#jane may just be the death of us both | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelalorian · 6 months ago

Text

Fevered Flame

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature. This is my first time writing Marcus Pike and I hope I did him justice. I learned a few things about myself during this process, the most important being that I am incapable of writing porn without plot, or a romantic angle, apparently. This story turned out waaaaay different than intended because of that. I apologize now for the plot heaviness between sexy bits.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

Warnings: Explicit 18+, too much plot, heat making people cray cray, sexy sweatiness, lots of cursing (I’m from New Jersey, I can’t help it), nonsensical crime stuff, a plot that came straight outta left field, protected and unprotected sex (p in v), pussy eating and cock sucking, inappropriate use of an ice cube and hot springs. No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname and boobs, otherwise, I tried to keep her a blank slate. Some terms of endearment. IDK, there’s probably more but I can’t think right now.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this utter ridiculousness. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Moodboard by me.

Masterlist

Still reeling from the aftermath of Theresa Lisbon choosing that pontificating windbag Patrick Jane over him nearly a year ago, Marcus Pike buried himself in work. The transition from Texas to DC and adapting to leading a whole new team took his mind of his misery. However, the lonely nights in his new home, the one purchased with hopes of building a life with Theresa in mind, were untenable and he took on more fieldwork than someone at the director level typically would. Hence why Marcus found himself driving through the desert to some quirky small town in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences.

What the fuck kind of name was that for a town, he wondered idly as his right hand pumped the rental car’s AC to full blast. Having already stripped off his suit jacket and tie, Marcus sweat clear through his lavender dress shirt within minutes. The heat was ungodly. Surely it couldn’t be normal. How could people live like that?

Eyes scanning the dashboard display of the mid-size SUV the agency rented for him, they nearly bugged out of his head at the temperature reading. Lit up in glaring red, the numbers 121°F taunted him as sweat dripped down his temples.

Jesus Christ. Death Valley had nothing on this place.

Marcus steered the vehicle toward his hotel, opting to change into something a little more suitable for the local climate before checking in with the agent representing the local field office. The FBI put him up in a supposedly nice hotel, though he didn’t have high expectations of what that meant in a town like this. As long as the AC worked, he’d survive.

Thirty minutes later, Marcus took his second shower of the day, this one much colder than the last, and jumped back into the SUV in an outfit more typical of a golf outing than an FBI investigation. It was the best he could do with what he packed. The local agent texted him the address of an art gallery, the first in a series of apparent crime scenes, and he plugged the address into the GPS.

Normally, you didn’t mind the heat, preferring that to cold winters, but this current heatwave was beyond ridiculous. You sweat just by simply existing. You never experienced anything like it in the five years you’d been stationed in Albuquerque, and you suddenly found yourself longing for the bone-deep cold of a northeastern winter as you waited for the DC agent to arrive.

The chilling sea breeze of a New Jersey winter sounded like heaven right now.

A sleek silver SUV pulled up next to your government-issued sedan and you watched with an assessing gaze from the driver’s seat as Director Marcus Pike exited the vehicle clad in khaki shorts and a turquoise polo, trendy aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare of the desert sun. His dark brown hair was short and styled back off his forehead, and a neatly trimmed scruff lined his top lip and jaw.

You knew from a quick glance at his FBI profile that he was a decorated agent, but his government photo did not do him justice. The man was fucking gorgeous in person. Exiting your own vehicle before he caught you staring, you introduced yourself.

He flashed you a smile full of boyish charm when you gave him your name, causing your heart to thump double time. “You can just call me Jersey, everyone else does,” you finished, holding your hand out to shake his.

“Marcus Pike, Director of the Art Crimes Squad in DC,” he replied, his larger hand engulfing yours in a firm, yet not overbearing, shake. “Just call me Marcus.”

The two of you gazed at each other, the sun beating down on you both like laser beams. Holy fuck, Marcus was even hotter up close. Yeah, his FBI file photo did not do him any justice at all. Not wanting to make things uncomfortable by staring too long, you gestured toward the door to the gallery.

“Shall we?”

Marcus cleared his throat and nodded, following behind you as you strolled casually through the entrance. “Wanna give me a rundown of what we know so far?”

“Sure,” you replied. “We’ve had paintings stolen from several galleries in town. Despite its odd name and small-town status, Truth or Consequences has a rather robust art scene. Lots of expensive art showcased in these galleries.”

Marcus nodded as you gave him some background. He likely read most of this in the file on his flight out here, but you could appreciate the necessity of running over it again verbally. Repetition was the mother of… whatever the fuck that saying was. Your brain was already too fried from the heat.

“The thefts started almost a week ago, not too long after the start of the extreme heatwave this area is currently experiencing. There has been one painting taken every other day so far, always at the peak heat of the day when the townsfolk are too overheated and tired to pay much attention. No eyewitnesses and the thief artfully avoided any surveillance or security cameras so far.”

You watched Marcus jot down some notes, tapping the end of his pen against the small notepad as he reviewed the information.

“So, three paintings taken so far, and it’s still early in the day. I’m guessing we can expect another theft today?” You nodded and Marcus tapped the pen against his bottom lip this time, causing you to avert your gaze before he caught you ogling the plump flesh.

“Have there been any patterns identified?”

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Just in the types of paintings taken so far. They all depict scenes of cool, serene landscapes.”

Dark brown eyes held your gaze. “So, the exact opposite of the current weather situation.”

Again, you nodded. “That’s the only pattern so far. We haven’t been able to determine any order to the galleries hit and, unfortunately, this town doesn’t have the law enforcement manpower to guard all of the galleries and still attend to their normal duties. We do have unis posted at the galleries that haven’t been hit yet, just in case. That’s the best the townies could do though.”

Humming in thought, Marcus walked around the gallery, causing you to scramble to keep up. It was fascinating watching his mind work, his big, brown eyes taking in every minute detail around him. When he stopped in front of the empty spot marking the first stolen painting’s former home, you paused next to him, debating on sharing the only other piece of information you had so far.

“There’s, uh, something strange that may or may not be related to this case.” That got Marcus’ attention and his eyes shot to you once again, brow arched curiously.

“Do tell,” he replied with an encouraging smile. You blinked slowly, trying in vain to maintain your concentration in front of such a handsome man.

“I will on the way to the other galleries. Just… just promise to hold judgment until I finish telling you everything. It’s a little… unorthodox compared to what we’re used, I’d say.” You led the way back to your car, gesturing for Marcus to get in on the passenger side. It made more sense to ride together. Thankfully, you left it running while inside the gallery, making the interior still nice and cool.

Once seated, his head cocked to the side endearingly, the tilt of his lips bordering on an indulgent smile. “Ok, I promise.” The cadence and depth of his soft-spoken voice set you aflame and you had to practically shake yourself to not fall to your knees in praise of this man.

Jesus Christ, Jersey, have a modicum of professionalism and self-respect, will ya, your inner monologue chided. Your libido hyperfixated on the veritable stud before you whether you wanted it to or not. It’d been too long since your last tumble in the sheets, apparently. Recentering your focus, you pulled out onto the main road heading to the next crime scene.

“Good,” you croaked. Feeling the heat creep up your already overheated flesh, you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you can tell, the weather here is ungodly hot – hard to miss it. This is not entirely normal, from what I understand. It’s tempting to chalk it up to climate change, except for one strange thing. Drive twenty or thirty minutes outside of town and the temps are far lower, though still hot by some standards. The temps within the surrounding towns are in line with the more normal averages.”

Brows furrowed, Marcus’ dark eyes searched your face, clearly looking for more context clues. “The heat certainly seemed excessive on the ride over from the municipal airport. I had to stop at the hotel and change or I would have melted to the pavement in my suit.”

You chuckled. “I know the feeling. The average temperature here is supposed to be in the low 90s this time of year, not thirty degrees higher. And the usually cooler desert nights haven’t existed for the past couple of weeks. It’s very strange.”

“And it’s just this town, you say?”

Pulling to a stop in front of the next gallery, you nodded. “Strange, right?”

“Very,” Marcus replied, deep in thought as he followed you inside.

It carried on like that the rest of the afternoon until the heat became just too much after checking out the last crime scene. Like everyone else in town, you sought refuge in the coolest place you could find, which happened to be a hole-in-the-wall pub just off the main street.

Just when Marcus thought things couldn’t get weirder with this town, you led him into a dark and dingy little pub, settling right up to the aged bar. If you weren’t a certified agency employee, he would be terrified that you were luring him to his untimely death.

As it was, the scraggly old barkeep gave him the creeps when he shuffled over, eyeing the pair of you with the same attention he would three-headed aliens. “Coldest beer in town. Two pints?” The man’s voice as rough as he looked, he didn’t wait for an answer.

Marcus shot you a look, eyes wide and uncertain, but you merely shrugged in return. He didn’t normally drink on the job, but between the heat and the early start for traveling, Marcus decided his day was finished. He chugged at the frosty draft when the barkeep placed it in front of him. The old man was right, the pint glass was frozen and small chunks of ice floated in the foamy beer.

“Damn, that’s good,” he nearly moaned, feeling refreshed.

“I know, right?” you replied, nearly half done with your own pint. “I don’t normally like beer, but I could drink it all day long when it’s ice cold like this. Especially in this heat, you know?”

The first round went down easily, and quickly, and the old barkeep, whose name turned out to be Harry, placed another round down before Marcus even thought to ask. The pair of you settled into easy conversation, getting to know each other outside of the job. The more you drank, the more your Jersey accent started to peak through. He found it cute and kept asking you questions just to keep hearing you talk.

Soon enough, any thought left in his mind about Theresa evaporated. How could he still think about his ex-fiancé when a hot, smart, sweet little thing like you sat before him, chatting, and flirting away the evening. Theresa had nothing on you.

It took exactly a fraction of a second to be struck by your beauty that morning. Confident and intelligent, not mention damn good at your job, he quickly realized your natural beauty served as icing on the cake. You were the entire package, and he was trying his damnedest to not charge ahead trying to get you into bed.

Turned out you both had similar relationship history, married too young and divorced, no kids, longed for a dog if only your job didn’t call you away so often. You were practically the female version of him, Marcus thought. It made him all the more curious about you.

Before long, you both ordered some bar grub and went back to talking about the case. Neither of you could make sense of what you had so far. There were vital pieces of the puzzle missing, that much was apparent.

Harry unceremoniously dropped plates full of burgers and fries in front of you, not even trying to hide the fact that he eavesdropped on your conversation.

“You think your case has something to do with the heat?” the old man questioned, leaning heavily on the bar top.

You and Marcus shared a look before you nodded.

“There’s some local lore you might find interesting, then,” Harry said, pausing for dramatic effect and you gestured for him to continue. “Well, as the legends go, the Flame of Quetzalcoatl was hidden somewhere in town centuries ago. They say it was a gem gifted by the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl himself, but who the recipient was no one knows. The gem is said to hold the power of the sun and the wielder of it has the ability to control heat.”

You and Marcus sat there in silence, absorbing the tale Harry just shared. After a few minutes, Marcus glanced at you, doubt clear in his expression.

“This town just gets fuckin’ weirder by the minute, I swear,” he said, sipping at his pint once again. “I might actually believe that little story if I was a few more beers in.”

You laughed, but your face didn’t hold the same doubt as his. “I don’t know, Marcus. If living out here for the past few years has taught me anything, it’s that these Aztec legends are often too close to the truth to blow off.”

Harry harrumphed. “I’d say so, little lady.”

“Besides, it’s the best we’ve got right now,” you said, nudging Marcus’ shoulder with yours. “Couldn’t hurt to play that angle until a better lead pops up.”

Marcus found himself agreeing, much to his surprise.

Over the next few days, you and Marcus researched as much as possible about local lore related to Aztecs, searching for any hint of what Harry told you. In that time, three more paintings were stolen. The thief started leaving little clues as if to goad law enforcement.

The first cryptic clue further convinced you of the potential voracity of the Aztec legend. Written in drip red paint in the spot where the fourth painting had been located, Marcus suspected the thief meant it to look like blood.

When the feathered serpent sheds its skin, the heat will rise.

“Holy shit,” you gasped when you first read it. Turning to Marcus, you declared, “Quetzalcoatl was known as the Feathered Serpent.”

His dark brown eyes widened, meeting yours in shock. “No way.”

You nodded, flipping through your notepad to find your most recent notes on the case. “Yes way. That book we borrowed from the Historical Society talked about it. Remember?”

Marcus nodded slowly as the information came back to him, his eyes searching yours, trying to make sense of this completely bizarre case. “Didn’t the book say something about Quetzalcoatl being a signal of transformation? Think the clue has something to do with that?”

“Yeah, could be.”

The pattern continued the next day with another clue left behind.

Where the earth boils and the water steams, the gem of the sun awaits.

The pair of you debated the meaning of the second clue over cold beer at Harry’s pub. As the case evolved, so did the connection between you and Marcus. You both flirted unashamedly when you weren’t talking about the case. It turned out the agency put you both up at the same hotel – your rooms on the same floor even. You were beginning to hope that he would make a move, yet completely terrified of that happening at the same time.

Despite your best efforts, the thief remained one step ahead of law enforcement, somehow managing to steal from galleries you had actively guarded. How in the world was this guy doing it?

Things were slowly coming together once a third clue was discovered.

Seek the place where fire and water dance, and there you will find the sun’s heart.

Without a local FBI office to work out of – the Albuquerque one you worked out of was over two hours away – you’d decided to setup camp in a quiet booth at Harry’s. He kept you full on pub grub and refreshments – soda and water during work hours, of course – and chipped in with his local knowledge whenever he thought it needed.

In fact, it was Harry who guided you toward understanding the latest clues.

“Have you two heard about the hot springs? This town is famous for them.” The old man dropped the nugget of knowledge along with a plate of fries and shuffled away, leaving the two of you to stare after him.

Marcus turned to you; his lips pursed in thought. You ached to nibble on the plump flesh of his bottom lip, to feel the gentle scratch of his facial hair against your soft skin as you did so.

“Where the earth boils and the water streams,” Marcus recalled the second clue in that delicious, soft-spoken voice of his, sending a wave of gooseflesh over your skin. “Seek the place where fire and water dance.”

Shaking your head free of naughty thoughts, you focused on the clues and the knowledge bomb Harry dropped, picking right up on Marcus’ thought process. “Fire, heat, and water... The hot springs!”

Marcus beamed at you; eyes sparkling as he came to the same realization. “It has to be. Makes sense, right?”

“Sure does,” you agreed, grinning back at him. “But there must be a ton of them. How would we ever find the right one?”

Sitting back in his seat, Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to keep digging. Do you still have that book from the Historical Society? Maybe there’s something else in there to help us.”

“It’s back in my room,” you reply. “Fancy ordering room service at the hotel while we go over the clues again?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What was he thinking, agreeing to go back to your room to continue working on the case.

An unwitting temptress already, how was he supposed to control himself when you invited him into your room for dinner, drinks, and after-hours casework?

In the already excessive desert heat, Marcus was sweating bullets as he followed you into your room, conveniently located only a few doors down from his own.

“I have a bottle of cab, is that good?” you questioned, kicking off your shoes with a sigh before reaching for the screw cap bottle.

Audibly gulping, Marcus squeaked out an assent and wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts. He glanced around the room to distract himself, noting happily that you were a tidy traveler, much like himself.

“I have bottled water as well. Would you like one?” Marcus nodded. With an indulgent smile, you held out the small ice bucket. “I like mine over ice. Would you mind?”

Eager for a moment to clear his head, Marcus grabbed the bucket. “No problem.” The echo of your chuckle followed him as he rushed out the door.

“What is wrong with you, dude?” he whispered to himself as he strolled down the hall to the ice machine. “You don’t even know if this woman wants anything more than just reviewing the case. Calm the fuck down.”

Feeling a little calmer and more under control after his private pep talk, Marcus knocked on your door with the full ice bucket in hand. You let him in with a broad smile that nearly made his heart stop.

“Perfect.” Plucking the bucket from his hands, you returned to the makeshift kitchenette area to fill two cups with ice and water. Two glasses of cabernet were already sitting on the tiny table in the small designated sitting area of the hotel room.

Marcus joined you on the couch, case file in hand, seated close due to the limited space. You dove right in to discussing the case, easing his nerves. The pair of you compared the facts of the case, debating theories and potential connections. Without any physical evidence, you still didn’t have any viable suspects, which was incredibly frustrating for both of you.

“I’ve never had a case like this,” Marcus said. “It’s hard to believe that this could all relate to a myth about an ancient god. It feels weird even saying that aloud.”

“I know. It’s giving me Twilight Zone vibes.”

With the lack of viable suspects serving as a brick wall in furthering the investigation, conversation switched to other topics.

“You’re from New Jersey?” Marcus asked. “What brought you out here?”

“Yep, born and raised at the Jersey Shore,” you replied, that northeastern accent peeking through as you drank more wine. “Classic reason for relocating – I followed a guy, the one I told you a little about. We got married young and one day he woke up and decided he wanted a change of scenery. I followed along without argument, and we wound up out here. Biggest mistake of my life.”

“Ahh,” he said with a nod. “That asshole.”

“Yeah, that asshole.”

From what you told Marcus about your ex-husband, he knew the guy was a real piece of work. Classic narcissist who beat you down emotionally the entire time you were together. Marcus was happy that you kicked the guy to the curb two years ago and the divorce finalized last year. No one deserved to be treated like that, especially you.

“Are you going to stick around here now that’s all over with?” He found himself curious about your future plans.

Shaking your head, you laughed. “Hell no. I put in for a transfer already, for anywhere on the east coast closer to home. I’m no picky.”

Marcus perked up at that. The DC headquarters always had openings. He’d get to see you again if you were transferred there. “I could put in a good word for you, if you’d like. You’re a great agent from what I’ve seen so far.”

Ducking your head bashfully, you peeked at him through your lashes. “That’s pretty high praise coming from a director,” you deflected.

“I mean it, Jersey.” He kept his voice low, using your nickname for the first time, and watched in delight as you shuddered.

The air in the room shifted, sexual tension thick and nearly overpowering. Marcus watched as your pupils dilated, lust overtaking the previous sparkle. He gulped when your tongue darted out to lick your lips tantalizingly.

Shifting ever so closer, your scent washed over him. You smelled fucking delicious, hints of cocoa butter and salty sweat, reminding him of the beach. His shorts suddenly became tighter, his cock twitching to life. He wanted to devour you.

The next thing Marcus knew, your lips were pressed to his as you basically ripped the clothes from each other’s bodies, the now empty bottle of wine knocked from the table to the carpeted floor in the process. Despite the cool air pumping from the air conditioning, your skin felt hot to his touch.

Licking into your mouth, savoring the taste of you mixed with the bite of wine on your tongue, Marcus steered you backwards until your hamstrings bumped against the mattress. He eased you down onto the bed, detaching his lips from yours to take in the electrifying sight of your naked body splayed before him.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his fingertips tracing down your smooth skin slowly, teasingly from your neck to your toes.

Your eyes, blown wide with need, burned into his before dipping down to take in his naked body with a gasp. His cock bobbed eagerly as you stared.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Marcus said, his soft voice filled with awe, matching the wonder in his eyes.

“Me either,” you replied, “but I’m happy it is. You are so fucking gorgeous, Marcus.”

Marcus couldn’t help the blush that pinkened his cheeks. Reaching behind him to the bucket, he plucked a large ice cube from the slowly melting pile. His eyes remained locked on yours as he popped the frozen cube into his mouth, sucking lightly before his tongue pushed forward and his lips puckered as a portion of the ice cube stuck out.

The breath left you when he dipped his head down to run the cube along your clavicle and down across your breasts. Your nipples pebbled beneath the chilly wetness as Marcus directed the ice cube back and forth a few times. He watched delightedly as goosebumps peppered your skin when he moved the cube down your belly in a zigzag pattern.

“Oh, fuck.” Your chest heaved and fingers tightened their grip on the bedsheets when Marcus dipped further down, running the quickly melting cube over your mound and through your slit. The cold nearly shocking to the overwhelming heat of your labia.

Using his tongue to increase the pressure, Marcus circled the ice cube over your clit until you cried out, one hand loosening its grip on the sheets to tangle your fingers in his thick hair. He shifted, plunging the cube into your entrance, pushing as far as his tongue would extend, then leant back to watch your pussy suck the cube further until in melted into mere dribbles of water.

You laid there panting, eyes hooded and wanting, as Marcus dove back in, using his tongue to continue the work he started with the ice cube. He lapped and sucked at your clit, two thick fingers slipping inside you, until you became a blubbering mess, blurting out unintelligible words and moans, finally falling apart beneath his ministrations.

Marcus slurped at the evidence of your long overdue release, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you. His hips thrust against the mattress of their own accord, his body seeking any sort of friction against his aching cock it could find.

“Your mouth is a lethal weapon, Marcus,” you said breathlessly, hands reaching under his shoulders to drag him up your body. “Now let’s see what you can do with your cock.”

His hair flopped forward over his forehead from your fingers tangling in it and he grinned in satisfaction at your comment. His boyish charm proved too much to handle, and you yanked his face down to yours, tongues tangling in a scorching kiss. You nibbled on his plump bottom lip between fervent kisses, savoring the plushness between your teeth.

Whining when he pulled away suddenly, your fingers grasping for purchase to pull him back, Marcus winked at you when he slid off the bed. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right back.”

Digging in his shorts to find his wallet, Marcus pulled out a long-forgotten condom from the tri-fold leather and checked the date on the foil packaging to make sure it hadn’t expired. Content with the remaining half-life, he ripped the package open with his teeth and slid the latex material over his cock.

You beamed at him when he climbed back onto the bed. “I knew you were a smart man.”

Marcus slid up beside your body, turning you so your back pressed snug against his chest. “Safety first, baby. Wrap it before you tap it, right?”

Your laughter became strangled when he slid inside you, splitting you open on his cock. “Oh my god. You feel so good!” you cried when he began to move inside you after a long pause to let you adjust to the sheer size of him.

Marcus started at a slow pace, getting a feel for the way your walls tightened around him. Gripping the bed covers with your right hand, you reached your left hand up and around to tangle in his hair behind you. He picked up the pace as you tugged gently on his locks, his lips peppering your neck with soft, wet kisses.

When, at last, Marcus began pounding into you, you reached between your legs with your right hand to rub your clit. Despite the cool air blowing over your bodies, the heat between you had your skin glistening with sweat. You cried as Marcus hit a particularly pleasurable spot deep within you, his own moans morphing into grunts as you clamped down on him.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight around me. I can feel you clench every time I hit this spot.” His words were murmured into your ear, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. Marcus plunged forward to hit your g-spot, proving his point when you clenched tightly around him once again. “Yeah, just like that.”

You plunged clear over the precipice then, crying out his name and any number of praises as an orgasm overtook you. Marcus talked you through it, his voice like sugary syrup, while he never once let up on his thrusts. Minutes, hours later, he followed you into the overwhelming bliss with a shout of your name followed by a string of curses.

“That was amazing.” Marcus nuzzled your neck as his hips slowed, the last shots of his cum dribbling into the condom. “You are amazing.”

Lost for words, you just hummed in agreement. Knackered from the excessive heat, long day of investigative work, the alcohol, and the mind-blowing sex, you hovered on the edge of sleep while Marcus got up to dispose of the condom. He returned with a wet cloth and cleaned you up with tender dedication. Tossing the cloth aside, he paused, standing naked and uncertain next to the bed.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” you replied sleepily, tossing the covers down so you could both slide under them. “I hope you like to cuddle, Mister.”

Grinning at you, Marcus wrapped his arm around you, curving his body around yours. “You bet your ass I do.”

You both fell into an exhausted sleep feeling hopeful and satiated for the first time in a long time.

Waking up in Director Pike’s arms was not something you expected would happen on this case. You fantasized. You hoped. Sure, all of that. But you never, ever expected it would actually happen. But it did and it felt fucking incredible.

You already knew he was damn good at his job. It was impressive to see that his single-minded focus and massive talent carried over to his skills in the bedroom as well. You replayed the night before in your head as you showered, remembering with fondness all the ways Marcus surprised you, how cherished he made you feel, the sheer pleasure he brought you.

How were you supposed to focus on the case now when your mind was completely overcome with thoughts of Marcus. You were almost relieved when he slipped out of the room after sharing a cup of hotel room coffee with you. You weren’t sure you could keep your hands to yourself if he stayed much longer, the rumbled, sleepy look proving almost too adorable to resist.

Marcus met you in the hotel lobby, two large cups of iced coffee and a brown paper bag clutched in his hands an hour after waking up together. “Good morning, Jersey girl,” he greeted you with a wink, dark brown eyes sparkling in the soft morning light filtering through the windows.

You chuckled at the variation of your nickname, already knowing that would become his signature endearment for you. “Good morning, handsome. Long time, no see.”

His grin grew wider. “Come on. Let’s ride together. No sense in taking two cars anymore.” He handed you one of the iced coffees and the paper bag, pulling the keys to his SUV out of his pocket.

Clad in gray cargo shorts, blush polo shirt, and a pair of boat shoes, Marcus looked ready for a day spent on the water rather than investigating art theft. The sight made your mouth water and you gulped at the iced coffee. As he drove, you both munched on the bagels he picked up along with the coffees while waiting for you.

“I figured we’d start taking a look at some of these hot springs to get a feel for them and see if anything else in the clues pops out at us,” Marcus explained between bites. He always chewed with his mouth closed and waited until after he swallowed to speak. You loved a man with impeccably manners.

“Great idea. I put a list of them in the file.”

“I know,” he beamed at you. “I saw it last night, before… It’s what gave me the idea. Thought we’d start with La Paloma and work our way down the list. What do you think?”

You nodded, sitting back in the passenger seat contentedly. Much to your surprise, there wasn’t an ounce of awkwardness between you two after last night’s surprising turn of events. Everything felt natural, like it was meant to turn out this way and you basked in the effortless interactions between you and Marcus.

Marcus spoke to the manager upon your arrival at La Paloma Hot Springs & Spa and the gentleman gave you a quick tour of the facility before allowing the two of you to investigate on your own. You split up to cover more ground, the scent of mineral-rich water tickling your nose as you worked your way through the facility.

Searching the private soaking tubs, you ran your hands along the edges looking for evidence of hidden compartments that might contain the artifact. Still uncertain if that was what you were actually looking for, it didn’t hurt to search. When you found nothing, your focus shifted to the vintage décor including the old photographs hanging on the walls, looking for any signs or symbols that might be a clue.

An hour later, you and Marcus reconvened at the front desk, disappointed that you both came up empty, yet undeterred in your drive to figure out this case.

You visited a number of other hot springs, conducting the same kind of searches yet never finding additional clues or evidence.

“It’s like we’re missing something,” Marcus said as you both climbed into the SUV, burnt out and sweaty, after your latest search came up empty. You’d spent the entire day running from hot spring to hot spring across the small town to no avail.

“Yeah, but what could it be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not just any old hot spring? We need more to go on.”

Just then, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from the TCPD. Another painting stolen right under their noses – or rather, right behind the officer’s back as he turned around while patrolling one of the galleries. The thief had lightning-fast reflexes, apparently.

“Alright, thanks Chief. We’ll head over there now.” You ended the call and relayed the information to Marcus.

“This guy sure is brazen. I’ll give him that,” he lamented, carefully spinning the SUV around to head toward the latest crime scene.

“He’s got some balls, nicking a painting while an officer is standing right there. It’s like he’s begging to be caught.”

“That or he’s just a fucking lunatic.” Marcus met your gaze for a long moment after parking the vehicle. “Is it wrong that part of me hopes we don’t catch him too soon?”

Your heart thumped in your chest, lips quirking upwards into a shy smile. “No, not after last night…” you admitted. “We could always stay a few days after solving the case and explore this.” You gestured between the two of you.

Shutting off the car, Marcus bobbed his head. His previously styled hair fell across his forehead, the heat having worn away the product he used this morning. “I’d really like that.”

The TCPD officer met you at the door and led the way to the scene of the latest theft, his shoulders hunched in shame. “I never saw him; he was there and gone in seconds. Managed to leave this behind though, taped where the painting had been.”

Marcus accepted the paper, holding it up so you could read it.

Where the serpent bathes in earth’s warm embrace, beneath the soothing waters, the heart of the sun lies hidden.

“This message is different. Different, but the same. I mean… I don’t know what I mean,” you sighed frustratedly.

Marcus patted your shoulder in a manner appropriate for a professional audience. “No. I get what you mean. It’s tying the clues together in a different way. Giving us more hints at once.”

Heaving a sigh of your own, you nodded. What a great relief to feel understood. “Exactly.”

Conferring with the forensics team first, you and Marcus departed when they confirmed the thief left no trace evidence behind. No fibers, fingerprints, or hair. Nothing to clue you in on who the thief could be. Nothing, not even on the adhesive used to tape the clue to the wall or the paper itself. The perp was either lucky or extremely tidy.

Seated once again in the corner booth at Harry’s dingy pub, Marcus devoured his burger while you daintily nibbled at your fries. The extremely high temperature ruined your appetite. The case file sat open on the table as you placed sticky notes on a photocopy of the latest clue.

“’Where the serpent bathes’… that has to refer to the hot springs, right? And the serpent would symbolize this Quintessential guy?”

“Quetzalcoatl. The god’s name is Quetzalcoatl, for Christ’s sake,” Harry chimed in as he dropped off a fresh round of cold draft beers.

“Yeah, that guy,” you said, pointing a fry at Harry in thanks. Marcus laughed at your adorable ridiculousness. You made investigating this mind-boggling case fun.

“Right. And ‘in the earth’s warm embrace’ refers to the warm waters of the hot springs as well. That’s caused by geothermal activity, is that correct, Harry?” Marcus questioned.

The grizzled old barkeep lingered by your table, too caught up in his own curiosity to return to his duties. “Mmhmm, that’s what they say. I’m no rock scientist, mind.”

“You mean a geologist?” you chirped, a shit-eating grin gracing your pretty face.

“Yes, you mouthy little shit. Don’t sass me or I won’t help solve this case,” Harry grumbled. For a moment, Marcus worried you would be offended by the old man, but your tinkling laughter convinced him otherwise.

Marcus stifled a laugh when you rolled your eyes playfully and re-focused his attention on the clue. “That could be the earth’s warm embrace part, then. And ‘beneath the soothing waters’ refers again to the hot springs.”

“Uh huh,” Harry chimed in again, pulling the case file closer to him, aged eyes squinting to read your notes. Neither of you would normally let a civilian get so involved in a case, but Harry proved himself integral to solving this particularly challenging and unusual case. Pointing an arthritic finger to the final line of today’s clue, beneath the soothing waters, he added, “It refers to the artifact being hidden there, beneath one of the hot springs.”

Harry slipped into the booth on your side, and you flashed Marcus a smile. The old man was fully invested now. Thankfully the bar was empty but for a few regulars who could help themselves as far as Harry was concerned.

“Ok, so to summarize, we know the hot springs are involved,” you stated, processing the facts aloud as well as in your head. “And we know that the artifact is hidden beneath one of them. The question we’ve been chasing all day is which one, right? So, do any of the known hot springs have a serpent symbol or painting or something along those lines associated with it?”

Marcus shook his head as you flipped through pages of notes. “Definitely didn’t see any in the ones we checked out today.”

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy, you two idiots will be my age by the time you figure this out,” Harry stood from the booth, his voice gruff with annoyance, though whether that was from dealing with the two of you or the effort it took to stand with aged, arthritic bones was anyone’s guess. “You’ll want to check out Riverbend Hot Springs in the morning. You’re welcome.”

Mouths agape, you both watched the cantankerous old man shuffle back to the bar, grumbling to himself the whole way.

“Did he just solve the case for us?” Marcus asked when his gaze shifted back to you.

“I think so,” you laughed. “Thank fucking goodness. My eyes were starting to cross from looking at this file so much.”

Looking it up on his phone, Marcus confirmed that the Riverbend Hot Springs were closed until morning. Knowing their work was done for the day, he flashed you a heated look. “Want to go back to my room? Maybe cool off in the shower?”

Marcus had a nicer room than yours, the walk-in shower encased in glass and large enough to fit a few people. The perks of being a director, you guessed.

You barely glimpsed at the room before Marcus backed you against the already deadbolted door. His mouth pressed against yours, tongue dancing along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You let him in eagerly, tongues tangling and teeth clashing with urgency. His hands were everywhere, stripping away your clothes and sliding against already bare skin in turn.

Once you both gave into the spark, stoking the fire into flames last night, the want turned into a blazing inferno that neither of you could extinguish. Not that you wanted to, anyway. No, you were content to burn to a crisp as the fire raged.

Marcus had you stripped naked within minutes, his mouth having never left your own in the process. Eager to return the favor from last night, you sunk to your knees, undoing his belt and shorts as you stared up at him. Marcus tore off his shirt while you shoved his shorts and boxer briefs down his slim hips to pool at his feet.

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus moaned as you wrapped your hand around his hardened length, testing the girth and weight of it in your grip. You tugged playfully a few times, getting to know the feel of him. Still staring into his lust blown eyes, you slowly leaned forward to glide the head of his cock around your plump lips before slipping him inside your mouth. A delicious whine fell from his lips when your tongue lapped at the little droplet of precum without breaking eye contact.

Not wanting to torture him unnecessarily, you began to move, taking more of his cock into your mouth until he bumped the back of your throat. Bobbing your head, you soaked his cock with your saliva, sucking every now and then to increase the sensation. Your left hand tugged the base of him where your mouth couldn’t quite reach, twisting with each upward stroke to further enhance his pleasure, as your right hand massaged his balls.

Panting heavily above you, Marcus slapped his palms against the door to support himself as you continued sucking his cock. Experimenting with how far you could take him, you hollowed your cheeks, easing farther down his length and breathed through your nose.

“Jersey girl… ungh. Please, I’m gonna come down that pretty little throat if you don’t stop.” You could feel his thigh muscles flex and twitch with the effort of not blowing his load down your throat as he stuttered out the words.

Taking pity on the man, you eased back until his cock audibly popped out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you until Marcus severed the link by stepping backwards on shaky legs.

“You are too good at that, my little minx. Come here.” Marcus helped you up, leading you into the shower once you regained your balance. He kissed you deeply as the cool water from the shower head cascaded over you both.

The water felt good on your overheated skin and Marcus pressed you backwards against the sturdy glass. Hiking a leg up around his waist with one hand, he gently cradled the side of your face in the other. Your gazes locked as he reached around your thigh and teased your clit.

“So wet for me, my Jersey girl.” Already on edge from sucking his cock, you were drenched and ready for him. “Did sucking my cock turn you on that much, my Jersey girl?” You mewled and, with the slightest shift of his hips, Marcus notched his cock at your entrance, feeding you inch by inch until your walls gripped his entire length tightly. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

Droplets of water rained down your bodies as he thrusted into you, your lips pressed open-mouthed against each other, noses bumping, exchanging breaths and moans without actually kissing. The stretch was intense but pleasurable, and you could feel every ridge of him inside you.

You suddenly realized why that was.

“Shit, we forgot a condom,” you said in between moans, your hands grasping his plump ass to make certain he didn’t stop.

Marcus showed no signs of stopping, his hips almost seemed to pick up the pace. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no!” you gasped; eyes fluttering shut as he nudged that spot inside you just right. “Please don’t ever fucking stop.”

“Ok,” he breathed against your lips. “I’m clean and it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Same,” you replied. “And I’m on birth control, so please, come inside me.”

Marcus groaned deeply at that, his head shifting so he could nip at your neck, soothing the sting with little kitten licks of his tongue. Pulling back, he murmured, “Turn around.”

You did so, whining as he slipped out of you. With a gentle hand, Marcus pushed your upper body against the glass and pulled your hips closer to him so your back arched perfectly. Your tits were pressed up against the glass wall of the shower and, just beyond it, you could see your reflections in the mirror. Only a slight mist of steam swirled in the air from the temperature of the water, and it didn’t hinder your view at all as Marcus closed in behind you, slipping his cock back where it belonged.

You watched your reflections, mesmerized, as he fucked into you, his wet hair flopping over his forehead when he bent forward to kiss along your shoulders and neck. Your hands came up on either side of your head to brace yourself against the glass, hoping that the strength of his thrusts wouldn’t cause it to shatter.

Marcus reached a hand around your thigh, slipping between your legs to pluck at your clit as you fucked you. Every single cell in your body felt aflame, ready to burst at the pleasure racing through you. It didn’t take long for you to explode, eyes squinted shut as you keened.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Come on my cock, my little Jersey girl. I can feel your cum gushing around me. Fuck, baby.” Once again, Marcus talked you through it in the soft voice of his. He continued thrusting as your walls trembled around him, driving him right over the edge after you, rope and rope of cum splashed your walls as he made the loveliest sex sounds in your ear.

You stayed like that, pressed up against the glass with the weight of Marcus leaning against you, chests heaving, until you both came back down from the high. Taking a few minutes to actually wash the day off each other, you settled on the bed wrapped in towels afterwards.

The two of you talked long into the night and, unable to keep your hands or mouths off each other, you had sex twice more before falling asleep.

Unable to come to an agreement on whether backup would be necessary at this point, you and Marcus finally decided to bring one officer to investigate the Riverbend Hot Springs with you. An extra pair of eyes could be useful, on that you both agreed.

Known for its scenic outdoor pools on the banks of the Rio Grande, visitors usually flocked to Riverbend. The facility not only had the hot springs, but hotel rooms and spaces for recreational vehicles as well. The manager was less than pleased when Marcus informed him that any guests present would have to stay in their rooms and out of both the common and private pools during the search. The last thing the investigation needed was public interference or contaminated evidence.

Searching the private pools first to appease the guests and resort manager, Marcus swiped his hand over his sweaty face when you found nothing.

“Let’s check the common pools now,” he sighed, wondering if it would be another fruitless adventure.

Another two hours of searching – lifting stones, moving decorative displays, going inside the pools themselves, even going so far as to request a shovel from the grounds crew to poke around in the landscaping – turned up nothing.

“At least there’s only one pool to go,” you said, trying to stay positive about finding something. “This has gotta be the one, right?”

“Let’s hope,” Marcus replied. Drenched in a mixed of sweat and mineral water, he wanted nothing more than to slip between cool sheets with you and an ice-cold drink. This case sucked.

Located at the far end of the property, overlooking the Rio Grande, a rock wall encased the final pool for support given the topography on the side along the river dipped lower. Marcus directed the officer to start at one end while he joined you in working your way up from the riverbank. Thorough in your search, you left literally left no stone unturned. One particular large slab placed in the landscaping next to the pool like a decorative display required your and Marcus’ strength combined to lift, and you gasped when you saw what sat in hiding beneath it.

“Is that a fucking trap door?” Marcus asked with a grunt as he glanced down and pushed the rock slab to the side.

“Yeah, it fucking is.” Bending down to open it, Marcus stopped you.

“Wait a second, Jersey girl. We don’t want to just go rushing down there.” He called the officer over for a quick chat, asking him to find the manager and see if anyone knew anything about where the trapdoor led.

Minutes later, the manager and resort engineer joined the group. No one knew a damn thing about what they found. It wasn’t depicted on the as-built drawings or any other schematics the engineer had on file. That did not bode well. Turning to the officer, you asked him to call for back up.

“We’ll head down to scope it out. Come down once backup gets here. In the meantime, please keep the guests away from this area,” Marcus directed the officer and manager before turning to you. “Ready, Jersey girl?”

Pulling your service weapon from its holster, you nodded confidently. “With you at my side, I’m ready for anything.”

Marcus flashed that boyish grin before wrenching the trapdoor open. As suspected, narrow steps carved into the stone descended down into darkness. Before Marcus could ask for one, the facility engineer handed him a flashlight.

Stepping carefully down the steps with the flashlight held high in one hand and his service weapon in the other, Marcus descended into the dark unknown with you right on his heels. At the bottom, a pathway led through more rock, dim light visible in the distance. You reach out while walking along the pathway to find the rock is surprisingly warm.

“I expected it to be cool to the touch,” you murmured, not wanting to make too much noise in case someone or something waited in the shadows.

“Hmm?”

“The walls,” you pointed when Marcus turned around. “They’re warm.”

Directing the beam of light in the direction you pointed, Marcus touched the back of his hand to the wall and looked back at you with a questioning brow. “How?”

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrugged.

“Latent heat from the surface?” he took a guess.

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re below ground deep enough that it shouldn’t be this warm.”

Marcus continued on down the path, the rock walls growing warmer the farther you progressed. Finally, you turned a corner into a dimly lit chamber, the air filled with oppressive heat making it hard to breathe. You both scanned the room for threats, finding none. The chamber was oddly free of spider webs or bugs or people, aside from the two of you, but a pool of water bubbled inside a ring in the stone floor. Above the pool, an abnormally large, fiery opal appeared to float in the air, the glow from it the only source of light in the chamber aside from the flashlight in Marcus’ hand.

“What the fuck?” you questioned, confused as all hell why the gem just floated in air. “I’m getting some real X-Files type vibes and I DO NOT like it.”

Marcus couldn’t help the twitch of his lips even though he was just as confused as you. “This must be the Flame of Quetzalcoatl.”

“Ya think?” Your nerves made you snarky, a trait Marcus found profoundly adorable and endearing.

Stepping closer to the artifact, Marcus shielded his eyes from the fiery glow. He reached out with one long finger, nearly touching the object when the grinding sound of rock against rock reverberated through the chamber. Jerking back instinctually, both you and Marcus drew your pistols on the sudden intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?” you blurted at the man, your nerves shot to shit, your FBI training the only thing holding you together at that point.

Wild-haired, with oddly composed attire, the man practically vibrated with energy, a glint of insanity in his eerily green eyes. Under one arm, he carried another landscape painting, likely just stolen from another gallery. As if by magic or something equally befitting the utterly odd nature of this entire case, the other stolen paintings appeared, strategically placed along the rock walls rounding the chamber.

“I really don’t like this, Marcus,” you said through gritted teeth. His concerned gaze met yours briefly. “Me either, Jersey.”

It happened, as these things tend to do, suddenly and unexpectedly. The man lunged forward, dropping the painting without thought, and reached a trembling, emaciated hand toward the artifact. Marcus matched the man’s movement, reaching for him rather than the floating, glowing gem. In the process, a glass pedestal you didn’t even know was there, nearly invisible but surely the reason the artifact appeared to be floating in air, toppled over, sending the artifact flying.

You watched, awestruck and frozen in shock, as Marcus tackled the crazy man to the hard ground and the artifact shattered against the rock wall, simultaneously. Almost immediately, the temperature plunged until a damp coolness filled the formerly stuffy chamber, and the man shrieked in despair.

“No! No! No! You’ve ruined everything!” The man continued screeching. Moments later, TCPD officers rushed into the stone room, a few assisting Marcus with securing the thief in cuffs.

Among the backup that just arrived, the police chief stepped up to your side as you gave Marcus a hand in getting back on his feet. “Strangest thing,” the thick-bearded, squat man in uniform said, “the temperature dropped at least twenty-five degrees out of nowhere, just as we started making our way down here. Am I to believe it had something to do with whatever happened down here?”

You and Marcus shared a look before shrugging at the police chief. “I have no clue what even happened down here,” Marcus admitted. Tilting his chin in the crazy man’s direction, he added, “Your boys will bring him in for questioning? We’d like a shot at him, too.”

“Of course. We’ll get him processed. Come by the station whenever you’re finished up here.” The chief followed the officers escorting the man from the chamber, leaving behind a forensics team to gather evidence.

Standing above the shattered artifact, you sighed. “How the hell do I write this up in a report?”

“Very carefully and creatively,” Marcus replied with a smirk.

The interrogation didn’t take long, the man caving like a deck of cards in the wind. His name was Edmund Fawkes, a local starving artist driven mad by the excessive heat. Already obsessed with ancient mythology and local lore, he discovered the hidden chamber containing Quetzalcoatl’s Flame and, seeking the power and prosperity described in the legends, decided to take possession of it by appeasing the ancient god with landscape paintings.

It didn’t work, clearly, but Edmund was relentless in his insanity, continuing his thievery until you and Marcus caught him.

None of it made sense and there were so many things that could be attributed to entirely coincidental circumstances that you didn’t really care how the pieces fit together. The thief had been caught, the paintings returned to the appropriate galleries largely undamaged, and the town was no longer in the clutches of a deadly heat wave. That was all that really mattered.

On your way out of the police station, the case solved as far as the bureau was concerned, you turned to Marcus. “How long are you sticking around?”

Gazing at you with those chocolate puppy eyes, his lips twitched into a grin. “I have several weeks of PTO saved up. Figured I’d use some of that. Maybe all of it if I have a reason to.”

You grinned back at him. “I’m sure we could find a reason for that.”

An hour later, the sun dipping past the desert horizon, you found yourselves naked and neck deep in the soothing mineral water of a private hot springs pool. Given that business was completed, you checked out of the hotel the bureau set you both up in and reserved a room at the best resort in town for a couple days of relaxation.

“I’m going to miss this odd little town, especially Harry and his dingy pub,” Marcus said, pulling you closed to his side as you soaked in the soothing water.

“Me, too. I’m going to miss you most, though. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, both professionally and otherwise,” you admitted, leaning your head against his bare shoulder.

Marcus stilled for a moment before tightening his hold on you. “Why don’t you come back to DC with me?”

“What?” Your head tilted back to meet his eyes.

“You said you put in for a transfer back to the east coast, right?” You nodded and he continued. “Well, come back with me and we’ll have that transfer fast tracked. I’m certain there’s a position for you in DC. We won’t be on the same team, but that’s probably a good thing.”

You giggled at the boyish grin he flashed you. “If you’re sure, I’m game. I just don’t want you to feel like we’re rushing into anything.”

“Pssh, rushing, smushing. I’ve waited long enough to find someone like you. Now that I have, I’m not letting you go,” Marcus insisted. Gesturing between you, he added, “I mean it. There’s something amazing here, I know it. We can leave in a few days, spend a week or two exploring the city and each other before getting back to work.”

At a loss for a worthy response, you pressed your lips against his. The soft kiss quickly turned heated as you spun, straddling his lap, with your hands gripping the stone edge of the pool. Marcus ran his fingertips down the slick skin of your bare back as you squirmed into place, his cock swelling to life at the feel of you above, against, around him.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to ride you yet,” you murmured against his lips, grinding your bare pussy down on him.

“Now’s your chance, Jersey girl,” Marcus gasped through a moan. “Take me and use me, baby.”

Overheated despite the contrasting bite of cool air on your damp skin and warm water engulfing half your body, you eased yourself down onto his cock. You’d never get used to the exquisite stretch as he split you open. Drawing out the anticipation, you slid down his length with agonizing slowness, eliciting delicious whines from Marcus.

“Don’t torture me, baby. Please,” he begged to no avail. Peppering his handsome face with kisses, you kept the pace slow and torturous until he writhed beneath you.

At last, you took his full length inside you and started to move, bouncing eagerly on his cock with your head thrown back in pleasure. Marcus’ eyes stared at your breasts, bobbing along the water line and glistening from splashes of the mineral water as you moved on him. Mesmerized, he could look nowhere else, and his fingers shifted to pluck at the hardened peaks of your nipples.

The air temperature continued to drop as night set in, steam rising up from the warm water of the pool, dancing along your skin in beautiful swirls of water vapor. The clear, starry sky the perfect backdrop to your love making – for that’s what it was now, so much more than sex this time as you gave your whole self over to this wonderful, unexpected man who changed your life in a matter of days.

Overwhelmed with feelings, you keened as his cock nudged at all the right placing, your clit stimulated by grinding on his lap. “Fuck, Marcus. I’m gonna cum.”

Marcus thrust his hips upward at that statement, eager to drive you straight over the cliff into that beautiful abyss. “Do it, baby. Come all over my cock, my beautiful Jersey girl.”

Always good at following instructions, you did just that. Your eyelids slipped closed as you spasmed around him, head thrown back in ecstasy, his name falling like a prayer from your lips.

“That’s it, just like that,” Marcus crooned, pressing soothing kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re strangling my cock, baby. Gonna make me come too, sexy girl.”

A few more erratic thrusts upward and Marcus came with a fury, cock pulsing with rope after rope of his spend deep inside you. Breathless and exhausted, you clung to each other until shivers settled in from the plunging temperature.

“Let’s get inside, my Jersey girl. We’ll clean up, climb under the covers, and cuddle while we make plans for the future.”

fin

#little lady kinky may #writing challenge 3.0 #iamasaddie game #marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fluff #mystery #aztec myth #nonsensical plot

113 notes · View notes

triptychgardener · 9 months ago

Note

Hello sorry if this is a bother but I am asking in good faith where is the reading for transmasc nepeta. I’m asking this cuz of your last ask (the June one) and I see aradia Dirk and Jane. Thoes all I have seen post and analysis about. But I have not really seen anything about nepeta.

Okay so first thing you gotta understand is that gender in Homestuck, for lack of a better way to say it, can be understood in how characters reflect and relate to each other. That being said to understand Nepeta's gender, we gotta understand the gender of at the very least one other person.

Dave.

And more specifically.

Davepeta, Homestuck's very own first(ish) trans character.

Davepeta is noted to be a sort of platonic ideal of existence for both Dave and Nepeta. Somehow, through a strange series of cosmic coincidences, these two end up making an odd sort of parallel. Both having a strange relationship to a man who loves him some goddamn horses. The whole Akwete Purrmusk thing. I mean, Dave canonically engaged in semi-nonironic furry roleplay with Nepeta offscreen, and given what we know about what becoming a furry in Homestuck means, it's not a leap to describe this as their ideal form.

But, although we don't see a lot of Nepeta's character arc, we do see a lot of Dave's. He struggles his whole life under an incredibly oppressive masculine force (both of Bro and, indirectly, Lord English), and once the game is over ends up deconstructing and largely rejecting that.

So when Davesprite, who's also probably been thinking about this for even longer, bereft of purpose or identity, finds a kindred soul in a spunky catgirl... well the rest is Davepeta.

And similarly, there are points in the story where Nepeta acts kind of uncomfortable with how others see her as exclusively something to be protected. The whole "Dear, sweet, precious Nepeta" grates on her early on, as Equius uses it as an excuse to control her actions. The whole of moiraillegience as it is originally explained (i.e. one party helps to calm down an especially brutal and violent person from outbursts of anger, and in turn that person will protect the more docile, even-tempered soul from external harm) even kind of FEELS like the way heterosexual relationships are portrayed in a lot of conservative spaces, where women are nuturers and caretakers while men are protectors. And Nepeta is supposed to, in this situation, be the person who helps Equius manage his emotions, which she feels some consternation at!

Now, over the course of Hivebent, their relationship appears to evolve and get a bit more balanced, but it still carries these overtones of "I will protect you, and you will handle my outbursts." Notably, when Equius goes to seek the Highb100d, and leaves Nepeta behind.

And of course not after roleplaying as each other.

Which. I mean come on.

But notably, Nepeta doesn't just stay put! She doesn't really want to be protected all the time! And when push comes to shove, she leaps out to defend, or at the very least avenge, her best friend.

And then, we don't really see Nepeta for a while!

Until we get to the end of the comic.

During their whole "date", Nepeta seems a little uncomfortable with Jasprose's affections. She may be a bit flattered, but Jasprose also fully admits later that she was frankly looking for any girl she could fall in love with after the tragic death of her girlfriend and possible more tragic untimely resurrection.

But then the pivotal handshake happens, and we get to see who is perhaps the most happy being in all of Homestuck.

Then we get into some of the only actual discussion of gender in Homestuck. We don't get much besides that, for both of their lives, Dave and Nepeta both felt something was missing. Something felt wrong that they couldn't quite place that made them both miserable. I don't think it's a massive stretch to say this could be gender dysphoria.

And when they combine, they feel the fullness of the gendered experience they were missing, melded together like a two-piece puzzle.

Now while the abovementioned "strong identities as a boy and a girl" might throw you off, I would point to what Victoria Lacroix said about this passage: note the lack of the word "respectively." I rest my case.

Now full disclosure, my personal headcanon for Nepeta is genderfluid transmasc. The whole affinity for roleplaying lends itself to a more shifting identity and I just think Nepeta, given more time, would love exploring the little nooks and crannies of gender.

This isn't going into the more complicated shit with Gender when it comes to Equius and Dirk and all that other stuff. Here's a quick summary so you can see exactly how my brain is broken.

Anyways, thanks for the question! I hope I answered my thoughts on the topic adequately! If other people have more to say about this, please feel free to add on!

#whoof this was a long one #asks #anon #gender

205 notes · View notes

spiderprincess-suffet · 2 months ago

Text

Did this a while ago forgot to post it

Updated mah Creepypasta/general horror oc Jane Doe aka PIGEON

Other extra facts:

- While she’s mainly used in my Creepypasta au she can also act as her own standalone character used in other horror related projects, as she’s not fully tied to Creepypasta.

- She doesn’t really have a canon age it can be changed depending on the au, however to stay in line with her backstory she will ALWAYS be somewhere under 18 as in her backstory she died before 18, so yeah may not be specified but she’s just generally under 18 can be 10,14, 17 ect ect, personally I go with 13 specifically for my one au but ye doesn’t really matter much.

- fashion sense is weird…all the random fabrics, layers, colors and patterns you can imagine all just randomly tossed on with no sense for what does or does not go together.

- In said Creepypasta au she lives with Clockwork and Ani and considers Clockwork specifically as her cool Aunt.

- described as creepily thin,lanky and eerily tall.

- She doesn’t really have much of a personality due to not knowing who she is, she usually just people watches and imitates those around her otherwise she’s just on her own usually doing pointless things like wander around and just generally creep people out.

- Mildly sociopathic tbh not mean just generally doesn’t feel like a human anymore.

- her hair specifically is based on a now owl but despite that she ended up with the nickname Pigeon cuz she’s honestly kinda useless, she doesn’t even kill people literally just roams around and acts spooky.

- Among all the wandering around there’s been cases of her actually helping both humans and other uh un usual beings like herself occasionally, like said she’s not a violent spirit and she’d help out tho her help is more random and not something she’ll always do in any given situation, there’s been some people who actively try to contact her for help if desperately needed but it’s usually a last second option cuz well it’s like a 50/50 chance Jane will actually help you and not just turn around and go chase that squirrel she just saw.

- Pigeon don’t really talk much 1: cuz there’s generally just not much to say but 2: she also has a really thick hardly knows English has a thick Russian accent and braces. So like even if she did talk you probably wouldn’t be able to understand her to well.

- her hair is actually dyed her natural hair is brown tho with gray streaks caused from frequent stress in her life before death.

- A “side affect” or something of her dying a Jane Doe is that she has the ability to unintentionally be forgotten…as in no matter how weird or out there she looks people will still frequently forget about her and it’s completely at random she has like no control over this ability.

__________________________________________________________________

And outside of all that just idk do what ya want with her I’m fine with anything as long it’s not damaging or Illegal just have fun ig idk-

Edit: Wow I have made so many grammar and writing mistakes…I don’t feel like correct them good luck 🫠

#art #digital art #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta art #creepypasta oc #oc artwork #horror oc #ghost oc #creepypasta au #oc ref sheet #oc redesign #oc art

57 notes · View notes

frenziedslashers · 2 years ago

Text

I Love You, And I Don't Say It Enough:

Pt. 2; Baby, It's Okay

Pairing: Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) x Reader

Warnings: she/her pronouns used, possible ooc Daryl idk, PinV sex, unprotected sex (wrap that shit 👹), rough to soft sex, canon typical violence, mentions of character death. Not proofread.

About: This is set after Season 7 (meaning if you do not know who died Season 7 Episode 1, please do not read if you do not want spoilers.) This is a little fic about Daryl returning to Alexandria after escaping from Negan. I may have gotten some of the details wrong, but this was mostly for my own enjoyment. If you have a request you want to send in for him or another character, feel free. I will be making a master list for TWD and include the characters I write for here in the next few days!

REQUESTING INFO || TWD MASTERLIST

The past few weeks had been some of the toughest of your life. Not only did you witness two of your good friends die, but you knew that more blood would be shed along the way after theirs. You just didn't think it would be Daryl. He wasn't dead, not from what you knew, at least. They just took him from you. A man who's helped you survive since the beginning. A man who you grew very fond of, and he grew just as fond of you in return. You thought Alexandria brought hope to the future the both of you could share. You were wrong. At least in this moment you were so very wrong.

You screamed for them not to take him from you. It only made them laugh. Negan made a comment about wanting to take you, too. Make you his wife and Daryl have to watch him treat you like his. "I'll be back for ya, don't cry," was the last thing Daryl had said to you. It didn't stop your tears, if anything it only made them worse. What if that was the last time he would ever speak with you? The last time you'd ever see his face. What if he ended up like Glenn and Abraham... Or worse?

It felt like months had passed without him, but in reality. It was only about three, maybe four days. Living without him was lonely. Sure as hell a lot colder at night than having his furnace of a body cooped up next to you. When you saw him get off the truck, you nearly collapsed. His eyes looked tired, but they still searched for you. They still widened and looked at you with the same love and adoration as before. Negan was quick to stop the interaction when Daryl blurted your name and the both of you attempted to run for one another.

"Well," his smile, god. You'd give nothing more than to shoot it off his face. "Isn't this just adorable? Don't you think, Lucille?" He chuckled, walking up to you with a curious gaze. "We've got little miss Jane over here, and her man of a Tarzan over there." He spoke with a sigh. "Gross." He snickered, looking back at Daryl while circling around you. Placing his hands on your hips. Watching you flinch and Daryl fight with the people holding him back. "Don't touch 'er!" "Hey now, what did I say? None of that, or else I'll shut," He held his bat up close to your face. "That shit down." He spoke, voice getting lower and more stern with each word. Daryl understood, even if he didn't want to. Looking at you with a gaze that told you everything was going to be all right.

Negan chuckled again, leaning in close to press his nose against the side of your hair. Inhaling deeply, and then sighing. "Damn! Does your woman smell nice. Bet she tastes just as good, if yunno what I mean." He told Daryl with a sly grin. "Don't talk about 'er-" "Do you wanna see her brains on the pavement? Because I sure as hell don't! I've seen too many super hot wives die. No use wasting such a pretty face when she could maybe be yours again." Daryl glared, Negan looking back at you with a sigh and pursed lips. "You should really tame your dog. He's gonna bite someone someday."

After that, you had a sliver of hope. That maybe since they were letting him go on runs with them. That maybe Daryl could figure something out and get away. Maybe you'd wake up one night to Daryl climbing into bed with you. Pulling you close to one another and not saying a word. Just holding each other in silence.

Each passing day grew harder and harder. Each day without him felt like shit. Like it was a reminder that you would be alone. You came into this apocalypse alone. Everyone you ever knew and loved, dead. Then you would die alone. Everyone that you ever knew and loved being just as dead.

But then, it happened.

Everyone else saw him before you had. Hugging and reuniting with their friend. Their family. He didn't linger with anyone too long, though. His main priority was you. It was always you, and would always be. He had to make sure that you were safe. That he knew you were safe. "She's in the house. Up in your room. I think she's reading." Tara told him, and he nodded. Giving a soft thanks before racing off in order to find you. To hold you and never let go.

He crept up the stairs. His body trembling along with his breath. Doing his best to not be too fast and startle you, but the closer he got. The more he couldn't help himself. Finally reaching the door to your guys' room. Reaching out to touch the handle but to his surprise. It turned for him. Watching with cautious and wide eyes as the door opened and he was met with you. His girl. His woman. His wife. Though the two of you weren't official, nor did either of you talk about marriage. He considered you to be his spouse. May as well be since his eyes were only ever on you since they first saw you.

"Daryl," You didn't have time to say anything else. Cut off by Daryl pulling you in for a desperate kiss. He was never good with words, anyways.

The hunter was quick to get his point across too. About how much he missed you. How he wasn't about to let you go anytime soon, either. It didn't take long for him to push you onto the bed once the door was shut, and to have your clothes on the floor along with his own.

"Daryl," you called his name out, over and over like a soft prayer. Hands roaming one another's bodies with desperation. Pulling each other as close as you both could. Hungry mouths worked at either kissing anywhere they could reach or muttering soft nothings to one another.

Daryl was fairly rough with everything at first too. Like he was trying to tell you both that this was real. That he was here and so were you. His hips were fast. Each thrust within you deep and desperate. trying to chase what you both wanted. It was rough and fast, until it wasn't.

A slight worry set within you when his thrusts slowed, finally coming to a hault. His face buried in the crook of your neck. You were about to ask if you did something wrong until you heard the rigid and quiet sob that came from your lover. Frowning while your arms reached out to hold him. One hand on the back of his head, while the other rested on his back. Rubbing with soft motions while shushing him. Peppering the side of his head with kisses.

"Dar', honey, look at me. I'm here, you're back. Please, don't cry," you lulled, your eyes watering at the sound of his cries in your ear. You hated to hear or even see him cry, but you were glad that he did every so often. He was so good at bottling everything up. It scared you a lot of the time.

"Dar', sweetheart, please, look at me. Let me see you," He listened this time. Pulling away from your neck to look down at you. His blue eyes bloodshot. He had a black eye and a busted lip, which only made you frown more. Fingers tracing his face with your eyes. "Oh baby, what'd they do to you." He grunted, turning his face to get you to stop. "I thought I lost you," he muttered, a tear rolling down both of your faces this time. Your own lip quivering at his words. Everything finally setting in with both of you. "I thought I lost you too, Dixon." He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against your own.

"Did they touch you?" You shook your head, hands still holding the sides of his face. "No, think ya scared them too much," Daryl chuckled lightly at that. Opening his eyes to look at you again. "Yeah, maybe."

It was silent again. The both of you holding onto one another while staring back at each other. "I love you," you couldn't help but smile at his words. Running your fingers through his hair. Watching his eyes flutter shut and reluctantly open once more. You could easily put him to sleep by just playing with his hair. "I know you do, you have a way of telling me with your actions, always have. I love you too, mountain man." He rolled his eyes at the nickname and you chuckled. "I don't tell ya it enough, I love you. Really do. That's all I thought 'bout, too. That I don't tell ya it enough." He muttered, and you sighed. Resting your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them slightly. "Daryl, I told you. You say it without saying it. I know you do." He sighed with a nod, smiling faintly as you leant up to kiss the side of his mouth. Wanting to continue what the both of you started moments prior, but he wasn't done with his tangent. You wouldn't stop him though, you'd let him open up anytime he wanted to.

"All I could think about in there was you. If I'd see ya again. Hear ya," he spoke. "I was scared he'd.." He paused, breathing a bit heavily for a second as he thought. "Scared he'd take ya from me." "Dar', I'd go out fighting before I let him do anything to me." He chuckled, reaching up to brush some hair from your forehead. "That's what I was worried 'bout. If I lost you," "but you didn't, and I'm here. You're here. We're safe." "For now." You didn't say anything more after that. Only wrapping an arm around the back of his neck while staring up at him.

"I love you," he muttered again, and you nodded, leaning up to brush your lips against his. "I love you too, Daryl." He closed the gap between the both of you rather quick. Humming lowly into the kiss while rolling his hips against yours. Still nestled inside you.

It wasn't long before he was rolling his hips. Rolls turning into thrusts. He didn't move fast and rough like before, though. He took his time. Letting you know how much he loved and cared about you with his actions, again. His hand coming between the both of you to run his fingers between your folds. Your soft noises you released into his mouth were enough for him to continue. Lips traveling down to your neck. Leaving soft kisses and then love marks and bites. All while his fingers rubbed over your clit. Smirking softly as your hips bucked and rolled in order to chase your high, but Daryl didn't let you. No, not at first. He was dragging this out as long as he could.

"Wanna cum with ya," he muttered, kissing your collar bone with a groan. "Then do it," a growl left his throat at your words. Hips finally picking up to the speed the both of you were wanting. His finger rubbing a bit rougher on your bud. Not too harsh, but just enough it had your back arching off the bed. Hands grasping at him to ground yourself. One hand Tangling in his hair while the other clawed at his back. His lips came crashing on yours. Muffling the noises the both of you made as your bodies met their high.

You were the first to go, Daryl following right after. He came inside of you, but you didn't care. Not right now, at least. That was a problem to deal with later. Right now it was all about you and him. Holding each other after your highs became lows and you were both back on earth.

He pulled out, slowly. Doing his best not to hurt you, or himself in the overstimulated discomfort you were both in. "Wow," he looked at you with a brow raised as he used a Kleenex to wipe you both up. "I don't think we've fucked that hard in a while," you chuckled, and he chuckled back. Tossing the napkin into the bin before crawling back over you. A hand cupping the side of your face with a hum. "Ya tellin' me I only fuck good when one's of us nearly dies?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your lips. You shook your head, rubbing at his chest. "No, 'course not, we've just been..." "Busy?" You nodded, kissing him again. "Yeah," he sighed.

He finally laid next to you after tugging his shirt back on. Letting you pull your own and your underwear back on as well. Daryl kept the shirt on so no one would see his scars beside you. You were mostly dressed so if anything happened no one would see you nude. A precaution to keep both your and Daryl's minds easy.

Daryl pulled your body close to his own. Strong arms wrapped safely around your waist. "How 'bout we blame it on Rick." he muttered, and your brows furrowed, an amused smile on your lips. "What? Our sad sex life before today?" He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Yeah. He's always got us doin' stuff. No time for me to fuck ya." You snorted, rolling your eyes while swatting at his chest. "Shut up and go to sleep, Dixon." He smiled, pulling your closer while resting his chin atop your head. "Love you," you smiled, kissing his throat with a tired sigh. "I love you, too. I'm glad you're safe and home." "Me too, darlin'."

#daryl dixon #Daryl Dixon x reader #Daryl Dixon smut #the walking dead #two x reader #x reader #this was purely self indulgent #If you like it #that's a plus

1K notes · View notes

buttertheflame · 28 days ago

Text

Persuasion, "We Could Live Together" and Romanticism

"Although things can go wrong, time will not change how I feel about you."

After quite a few years of fic writing under my belt, I sometimes get stuck, feeling like I've changed a lot. But on reflection, I always liked to keep it simple. I use my ASOIAF fics to persuasively argue theories that I have and share what I think the overall main series is about. (It's my humble interpretation, that is.) Another way I approach my fics is to bring in those conflicts and challenges — and have the characters forge intimacy to overcome them together. They get angsty, melancholic depending, as well as lighthearted and warm in other places.

What does this have to do with Jane Austen? I picked up her last novel, Persuasion, a few years ago because "second chance at romance" is right up my alley. Little did I know that on the third or so read, I'd see a lot of parallels between this touching novel and my Jonerys fic A Long Way Home, which starts like this: After a post-Bolton botched assassination attempt, Dany fished Jon out of the Narrow Sea and gave him shelter on Dragonstone to recoup and heal...he went home to Winterfell but delayed returning to her with devastating consequences. Since readers have long wanted me to continue the story, I wanted to give Austen some homage, define a few Romantic characteristics she uses, and where they have and will fit over the span of the "We Could Live Together" fic series.

*spoilers below*

After some research earlier this year, I learned that for many reasons there's long been contention that she was not a Romantic author, more of a Sensibility author, but some people have put forth good arguments that she was both. Literature buffs have eventually conceded that Persuasion may well be Austen’s most melancholic and romantic story, exploring themes of lost love, missed opportunity, heartbreak, and becoming one’s own person. In Persuasion in particular, like Charlotte Bronte, she tackled these paramount Romantic characteristics: marginalized characters, close relation between the mind and body through emotions and reason vs. feeling (ultimately arguing for feeling over reason).

The additional Romantic characteristics in ASOIAF of religion/the supernatural (the two go hand-in-hand), self-knowledge and 'social energy' jumped out to me.

That said, in Persuasion, here are the main Romantic characteristics:

Marginalized character – Anne “just Anne” Elliot who lived under the “partialities and injustices of her [vain] father’s house knew love with her godmother, simply because she had no one else to love,” has already passed the bloom of her youth, yet finds that despite her social isolation, she draws and is drawn to the reappearance of her ex-fiance.

2. Close relation b/w mind and body via emotions – (Shout out to Mrs. Croft who boasts that even when she travels with her loving husband by sea, she never gets seriously ill)

3. Presentation of Reason vs. Feeling - Mr. Elliot, her cousin/father’s heir, she feels, does not speak from the heart and is therefore untrustworthy. When naval Captain Wentworth is restored to her, what emerges is a return, as close as they can be, in the countryside estates and private solars of Bath’s polite society. They fall in love again due to sheer proximity.

As for A Long Way Home, the main Romantic characteristics:

Marginalized characters in their feudal system – at first, neither Jon nor Dany were able to seize opportunities based on merit or achieve accomplishments due to competency; through sheer will, faith and dreams they were eventually made to be the hope of others, then found hope in one another.

Close relation between mind and body through emotions - the sensing of the other’s countenance celebrates the link between their bodies (heh) and hearts; in addition, Dany’s dreams and scrutiny of Jon’s Stark bloodline open up and fill in more magic lore, initiated by the tragedy that is Viserion’s death.

Reason vs. Feeling manifesting in the choices characters make:

Jon is in crisis - Reason (treated the incest discovery by Bran with reason, “I will not tell her yet, I will delay it if possible”) vs Feeling (there are worse things to do, worse things to be) (this won) Dany is the Rock - Reason (considered, “maybe it is time to take steps away from him”) vs Feeling (wishing not to be a ball and chain; carry the burden; not blame him) (this won)

As for similar themes in A Long Way Home, I'll drop a couple of lines in no particular order:

Lost Love: "We used to say 'if one of us should leave the other, I bet you'll always love me.'" He wanted a life with her. ... I will tell her when the time is right. Or else I'll lose her and this will have been for nothing. Missed Opportunity: "I know that my delay has cost us so much, but it's not the end is it?" "You've known for months! How could you? It's my right to know I'm not alone in this world!" Heartbreak: Yet not hearing him, now, only served to irk her in a way that felt much like a broken heart. "This hurts me, too." Becoming One's Own Person: "Your sister tried to apologize for you. I do not accept it. You are the master of your own life, Jon." “I am Jon Snow, son of Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Lyanna of House Stark. Nephew to Lord Eddard of House Stark. And nephew to you, Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen.”

Throughout the fic, I had fun touching base on the love vs. duty conflict George weaves so well with Jon. He had used his father Ned Stark's values to parse out difficult but straightforward decisions. Stay or Go? YOU SAID YOUR NIGHT'S WATCH VOWS, SO STAY! Although, like Jaime Lannister, he's realized it's sometimes more important to sacrifice name, reputation, even honor, for a greater cause--many months later in Winterfell, when the discovery of his parentage was made known to him by Bran, King Jon assumed his duty to his House and the North was in direct conflict with his love and sexual desire for Queen Daenerys. It caused him to choke like nothing else had. They entered a period of estrangement and division until he returned to her and eventually let her join in him in his crisis.

In the end... Rather than sticking to his father’s values--Jon takes up the risk of loving Dany as a man loves as woman, for a greater cause. To be a husband, a father, a king. Those are no small things to be. Those are the things that give his life meaning! He does not care about the right or wrong of it, so long as they are together. Dany, of course, happily concurs and wishes to only keep his heart.

And so I definitely credit this line from Persuasion as having pretty much inspired the direction in the continuance of the fic series:

“There they returned again into the past, more exquisitely happy, perhaps, in their reunion than when it had been first projected; more tender, more tried, more fixed in a knowledge of each other’s character, truth, and attachment; more equal to act, more justified in acting.” (Chapter 23, Persuasion)

In the end, the time away from each other has caused them to become even more mature leaders, managing realm-wide risks wisely, not risking those responsibilities for the love of one person. However, Jon has still got an inferiority complex and Dany still runs from trauma.

The next fic installment, In Full Bloom, will bring more tests to come, too heavy to carry alone, so they'll get through them together. And though my headcanon endgame is in sight, before then, they will have the chance to live together.

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #writing update #otp: we could live together #snowxstormworld #iceandfirejonerysdiscord #books #asoiaf #literature #jane austen #amber speaks #long post #*#is there such a thing as fanfic meta?#lol sounds pretentious #thanks for reading <3

18 notes · View notes

aloyxtilda · 5 months ago

Note

What do you think made Lis and Tilda break up? Did Tilda steal something (prior to attempting to steal GAIA), or do something else unsavory? And if she did, why would she risk losing Lis over something like that considering how much she loved her? Or was it Lis who just decided she doesn't want to be in a relationship anymore because it was distracting or too much work to learn how to give so much of her attention and time to Tilda? I'm curious about other people's ideas regarding this because I can't think of anything that would explain to me in a satisfactory way what went wrong and why. :D

I love this question, and I think of it often. My theory on this is that Tilda was already with the Zeniths before she met Lis. There may have been a reason Tilda was investigating Lis, so to speak. She was a data broker, and there may have been something Tilda was hired by the Zeniths to obtain.

Perhaps hired by the original founder of Zenith, Peter. He was obsessed with immortality and transhumanism. Maybe Elizabet was working on something he wanted. Something secret that not even we know of yet. A lot of data pads tell us about the zeniths facination with transhumanism.

A hint is where Tilda says Elizabet had trouble accepting her mother's death. She even calls Lis a mad scientist. What if (and this is a big if) Lis worked on some form of transhumanism in order to preserve her mother's consciousness in some way? And the zeniths wanted this tech.

Now, here is Tilda, beautiful, smart, and available for hire. She talks about being recruited by the zeniths back when they were a think tank. That was way before the Faro plague. The time Peter was the head. Tilda may have attempted to get close to Lis to steal this data, but instead, she fell deeply and madly, obsessively in love with Lis.

Lis, however, she was the one to show that love first. Tilda points that out at the breakfast. I think they both were fascinated and taken by each other. Realized they were a lot alike. Tilda's feelings opened after Lis began to show interest in Tilda. So we know from that Lis was honestly in love with Tilda. She also knew who and what Tilda was. This impressed the data broker.

Fast forward to the end of days. I think Elizabet knew what Tilda may have wanted all along but didn't care. They fell in love with each other. Maybe even talked about this. But I think Lis never fell out of love for Tilda. I think as time went on, Lis got more involved in her work. She may have felt she couldn't have a normal love life. Tilda may have wanted more. A family. While Lis felt a duty in herself to save the world with her knowledge and tech. I think she wanted the family Tilda wanted. A daughter with her. A happy life. But maybe she didn't want to raise a daughter in a world that was dying. It was dying before the Faro plague.

To know Lis, we simply have to look at Aloy. Aloy isn't living her happy life with someone she loves because she doesn't want to. We see she wants that. But she doesn't feel through most of the story that she can have that. Until she meets Tilda and learns about Lis, then meets Seyka. When Aloy asks what Lis was like, Tilda says she's like Lis and so much more.

So, I think in all this, we will learn more. There are obviously more secrets to Lis and even to Tilda. Their relationship may be kept secret for many reasons. I think we will learn more about them. And I also believe neither of them are dead. Because transhumanism seems to be the big secret behind all this. Especially in the data pads. Something here is brewing. We may learn Lis never died. Somehow, she preserved herself. And, maybe Tilda too. Not just through a failed experiment that the Odyssey Zeniths did with Nemesis, but through another way that Lis created.

But their love was strong and special. That I believe. Thanks for asking Jane! I always love talking Tilda and Lis with you.

#thank you for asking #tilda van der meer #horizon forbidden west #tilda #aloy #elisabet sobeck #hfw #far zenith #zenith

39 notes · View notes

misscammiedawn · 2 years ago

Text

50 Days of HypnoKink - Day 49: Hypno in Media

My heavens... we made it to the finish line. Tomorrow is the final day.

I wanted to save an obvious one for the end because I do so enjoy MC in fiction so very much. So much, in fact, that I made a Twitter thread with 110 recommendations and never even came close to emptying my resources.

I know so many of these scenes, both that Twitter thread and this page are skimming the surface.

I'll be using some of those recommendations here but let's divide by category:

Film

So let's get the obvious out of the way. You have

Trance

A Danny Boyle thriller with a terrible plot and Rosario Dawson as a hypnotherapist trying to get hidden information from James McAvoy's mind. Silly movie but one that doesn't get brought up a lot. Dawson learned hypnosis to get into the role.

Candyman

Horror movie in which the director literally hypnotized the actress so any time she was being stalked by the titular killer she looked completely entranced. Link above is an interview discussing this.

Hypnotic

HORRIBLE movie on Netflix but Sleepyhead and I have hosted a number of watch parties and let me tell you, this is the PERFECT movie to watch with a bunch of rowdy hypnokinksters. The therapist is unethical to a laughable degree and his office looks like it's inside of the Death Star. He's a living breathing red flag. The movie does have a really hot freeze scene, a good ragdoll and the dollification sequence. It's just enjoyable because it's terrible. Check CWs first though, this movie has a bunch of things that can make it an uncomfortable viewing experience.

The Great Hypnotist

This is a Not For Daja movie. A Chinese movie that doesn't get brought up a lot. Like Trance above it is a thriller with some twists and turns that I don't really want to spoil.

Stir of Echoes

A visualization of a dissociation induction designed to make a person view events on a screen so they are separate from the memory. It's a remarkably well done scene.

Now You See Me 1/2

The hypnosis in these movies is STUPID and I love it. The first movie has a punchline that every time Mark Rufallo's character makes a frustrated comment people who Woody Harrelson has hypnotized will start acting as if they're in an orchestra. Second movie has a twin Woody Harrelson as an evil hypnotist and he uses a pizza box as an evil induction. It's amazing.

Sherlock Holmes Woman in Green

This induction is one of the coolest I've seen in a film and I try my hardest to channel the energy of this when I am doing a relaxation focused scene.

Charlies Angels

This is bar none my favorite hypnosis scene in any fiction. The typewriter induction is amazing, the hypnotist has such a smooth voice, the entranced gazes are lovely. It's just perfect. Heck, the link above is "hypnosis scenes" from the episode and is 26 minutes long. From a single episode of television.

Doctor Who

Sarah Jane gets hypnotized so often that I could make a list purely from her.

Legion

youtube

I just wanna link this one as it's one of those scenes that works so much better without context and the aesthetics are incredible. Plus who doesn't like Aubrey Plaza?

Quick Bonus Animation Round

Carmen Sandiego (Neflix) has a ton of mind control including the bad end to the interactive movie.

Totally Spies is a meme for a reason

And this one is a reason many of us are here <3

Comics

DC vs Vampires

I think the page speaks for itself. "Hypnosis isn't lying, Diana. It's speaking to your vulnerability."

Korra

This sequence of Asami, brainwashed to hate the avatar, being deprogrammed is so good that someone on AO3 did an incredible fan-fiction which may well be one of my favorite hypnokink stories of all time.

Super Mario Comic

I bring this one up as it was one of my earliest moments of "...oh... this is kind of making me feel some kind of way."

Video Games

A note that a full directory of video games featuring Mind Control can be found at mindcontrol.fun the MC Games Wiki, run by @soveryverytired

Nyx Gaming (Featured game: Enthralled)

Nyx do incredible games which are designed to hypnotize the viewer and their consent practices are wonderful. They recently teamed up with Secret Subject to release a vampire enthrallment game and let me tell you, there is not a single word in that synopsis that doesn't make me happy.

Mind Melting Massaging Machine

The best tool for VR hypnosis. Upload custom files and program spirals, subliminals and chose between static spiral or headtracking. I have had so much fun with this over the years. There's a desktop version too but VR is optimal for this experience.

Spiral Clicker

It's such a simple concept. Click on the character and watch their will go away. Spiral Clicker is backed with a fun little universe, fun characters both original and community sourced, amazing art and a clever little gameplay loop that is quite addictive. Careful, the game features a constant spiral, you may find yourself falling in to trance. Don't worry. The game will wake you up. You can even ask the game to include suggestions for you :)

The sequel is being worked upon now and I cannot wait <3

Music Videos

Anna Soares - Hypnodoll (NSFW)

youtube

Straight up just a song and music video about hypnokink. If you click anything in this thread, click this one.

Little Big - Hypnodancer:

youtube

Silly antics but a fun music video.

Pharrell Williams - Hypnotize U

youtube

It's just Pharrell hanging out in a mansion with his hypnotized harem.

Grimes - We Appreciate Power

youtube

It's dronekink baby.

Andamiro - Hypnotize

youtube

Maid hypnotizes their employer.

I could do so many more in all areas. But the point is, media is hypnohorny. I never went over advertisements (UK ones especially), books, musicals (Phantom and Next To Normal for instance), anime (Sailor Moon) or manga.

But I write about a bunch more in my Twitter thread.

---

Day 48: Stealth Inductions

FULL SCHEDULE MASTER POST

FINAL Day 50: Presentation

#dawn posting #hypnosis #hypnokink #50 days of fetishes #Youtube #hypnomedia

313 notes · View notes

cutiecusp · 5 months ago

Text

The Lake

All those Summer Slashers you watched at Summer Camp weren't real, right?

Eddie Munson Slasher x Reader. (A DRABBLE)

T.W mentions of death, gore, paranoia.

The crackling of the campfire and the radio were the soundtrack of your night. You and your friends had gathered around the fire, and the smell of burnt marshmallows infiltrated the summer night.

You pull your jumper around your body a little more, the cool breeze of the evening settling in. You had been on your feet all day being a Camp Counsellor, and were looking to unwind a little.

A set of footsteps crunched under the dry forest floor, startling you and your friends.

Mike, one of the elder members of the team is stood there, sweat dripping off his body, his eyes wild.

"Has anyone seen Casey? We were at Lovers Lake and i lost her, and then i heard screaming." He rushes out in a panic.

"Hey man, relax." says Eddie, his casual demeanor settles over the group.

"Nothing out here but us." He continues. His gaze flickers between the people around the campfire.

"Maybe shes pranking you, we did watch that slasher film last night." He laughs.

An unease settles over everyone's shoulders, whether they wanted to admit it or not, the film had gotten under several members skin, but you and Eddie loved it. You two had stayed until the end, popcorn long forgotten as you both watched the killer take his victims.

"Even so, we should go check." Mike leads, grabbing a torch and his baseball bat. Some of the others agree, and make up a search party.

"Someone should stay behind, in case she comes here." You suggest, nodding to Eddie.

"Yeah, i'll stay here too, no one should be alone, especially if there is something in the woods" He says dramatically, raising his arms above his head as if hes a ghost.

You roll your eyes and laugh, but the others are already long gone, calling out to Casey.

When its finally quiet, with just the sound of the crackling fire, you look over to Eddie, studying his face, highlighted by the flames.

"Eddie?" you question, turning your body to his, mirroring his body language.

"What if there is something out there." You shudder.

Eddie chuckles darkly. Leaning over to you, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. You smell his signature smell, leather, a little Mary Jane, and.. pennies?

"What are the chances of two killers being in the woods, doll?" He smiles down at you, his eyes peering into yours.

"One down. Four to go."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN. This was a little drabble i wanted to write, i thought about exploring more, but i wanted something short and sweet. Not 100% its my favourite, so i may come back and expand it in the future :)

@xoxunhinged @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @enjisbf @frudoo @muneca-lemon-steppa @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @livingoutsidethetardis @gardenof-venus @soraya-daydreams @azxulaa @yesornowaitidontknow @enjisbf @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @evie-119

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #summer slasher #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie stranger things

29 notes · View notes

nolonger100daysoftavvyfanart · 20 days ago

Text

Upd8 thoughts! I've not done this before here so I might get the number of spaces wrong to hide spoilers under the read more, but I'll try it anyway;

:readmore:

ok surely that's enough

I'd assumed the note was being read directly after they were shouting at her, but apparently they both snuck out later. I guess maybe Harry and Vrissy got distracted or something? It's also very interesting that he's not using,,, his typing quirk,,, which could imply either:

It's just spoken. The pesterlogs could be explained as him using speech to text and treating it like a phone call, which would be in line with the Crockerlish old-timey stuff, thought nothing else suggests he does this

He can use full stops instead of commas when calm. This makes logical sense; he uses more commas when he's under stress, so he'd obviously use less when he's locked in

He didn't write the note. This is possible, but I hope he did.

The Yiffyism is interesting... Also, we might finally find out why his chumhandle is glutinousGymnast; I've previously speculated that he randomly generated it with a chumhandle generator, which may prove incorrect.

Tavvy rodent imagery is back!

Getting killed while generating a shield is dying while protecting someone. Textbook heroic death, I think this one might just stick... though maybe getting taken out by some mook goon cancels it out?

Goop on the screen is interesting. Could it be ecto-slime?

I'd say the skin is too dark to be a troll but vintage-foods has been known to play with the troll tones... At the very least, we now know that GC isn't AR-Terezi, which was a popular theory.

backwards arc number spotted

The only time I can think of where new word != new species was Jane "bothering" people

I seem to remember Vrissy saying something like "nobody worth messaging anyway" about this new chap. At the time I assumed that meant GC was a bot, but maybe they're just clingy... the run on texting stuff kind of reminds me of Harry.

Maybe the goop is said volatile materials? And now we know they aren't a cherub, since they're skeletons, and skeletons don't have buttcheeks

like... a seer?

Candy kids sburb! wait.

These lines earlier kind of imply that TC and GC actually worked on the game, which none of the beta kids had to do for Sburb. Though I do vaguely remember Sollux had to do something hacker-ish for Sgrub...

Ok the goop is definitely volatile

Time to see how this affects my end flash bingo card! I'll have to change things if this upd8 made them impossible, and I'm allowed to change things if I think they've become unlikely.

I was worried I'd have to eliminate "Deltritus kid intro", but luckily I didn't say it had to be the first one.

I do have to get rid of "Tavvy note read during the flash" because it's already been read now. I also have to lose "Moon laser set off by someone dying", because it's already gone off.

I'll be replacing these later this week I think. Good upd8!

#homestuck beyond canon #homestuck: beyond canon

19 notes · View notes

bethanydelleman · 1 year ago

Text

Northanger Abbey Readthrough Ch 25

Catherine might have missed like 99% of Henry Tilney's flirting, but she has an inkling it has happened, maybe, "He had—she thought he had, once or twice before this fatal morning, shown something like affection for her."

Which is why I love this meme so much:

Again, Catherine touches upon Marianne Dashwood behaviour but she just can't really commit, "But now—in short, she made herself as miserable as possible for about half an hour, went down when the clock struck five, with a broken heart, and could scarcely give an intelligible answer to Eleanor’s inquiry if she was well." However, by the end of the evening and with Henry being kinder than ever, she has recovered. she had nothing to do but to forgive herself and be happier than ever; and the lenient hand of time did much for her by insensible gradations in the course of another day. She does indeed bounce back quickly!

Catherine reflects that in England at least, the type of villains described by Mrs. Radcliff must not exist. She doesn't go so far as to pardon France and Switzerland from containing such evil, but she's pretty sure about her own country. She also believes that while Henry and Eleanor may not be perfect (never!), she's certain that General Tilney has some "specks" in his character. Well you've come a long way girl, we won't ask for more just yet.

Murder was not tolerated, servants were not slaves, and neither poison nor sleeping potions to be procured, like rhubarb, from every druggist.

Quick, someone tell Shakespeare!

Now Catherine's thoughts return to Bath, but she has no news. Her faithful friend has proved unfaithful again: But Isabella had promised and promised again; and when she promised a thing, she was so scrupulous in performing it! Oh Catherine...

Not as bad as her brother though! Poor Thorpe is in town: I dread the sight of him; his honest heart would feel so much. Honest heart! That man doesn't have an honest cell in his entire body! I would have more hope for James if we knew he finally figured out John, but the only hint we have is this: the failure of a very recent endeavour to accomplish a reconciliation between Morland and Isabella. So James and John met again and John tried to get them back together, but whether James rejected both siblings or just one is unknown.

I really feel for Catherine here, she has to sit through breakfast trying not to cry, then cannot return to her room because it is being cleaned (bedrooms in this era were mostly for dressing and sleeping, so she wouldn't be expected to use her room again until 4pm*), tries the drawing room only to discover the Tilney siblings, but then they kindly leave her to herself. Catherine needs another half hour (her magical sad-feeling time) before she can face them.

This line from Catherine is so very Jane Bennet:

"Could you have believed there had been such inconstancy and fickleness, and everything that is bad in the world?”

What a stroke was this for poor Jane, who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind as was here collected in one individual! -Pride & Prejudice, of Wickham

The poor girls, having their eyes opened to the wickedness of the world.

Then this part:

This post by Fira Wren playing in my head. His kids know the General is full of it. Eleanor is surprised her older brother has fallen in love, since it seems he never has been before, which again has Henry Crawford vibes.

No, not very. I do not believe Isabella has any fortune at all: but that will not signify in your family. Your father is so very liberal! He told me the other day that he only valued money as it allowed him to promote the happiness of his children.” The brother and sister looked at each other.

Now the reason that Isabella Thorpe would lose in a battle to the death against Lucy Steele and Lady Susan is that she didn't keep her first man secure until she had the next engagement entirely locked down. Rookie movie Izzy! I have too good an opinion of Miss Thorpe’s prudence to suppose that she would part with one gentleman before the other was secured. Isabella just could not manage two men at once.

I love this interaction:

This line from Catherine too, "I never was so deceived in anyone’s character in my life before.” and Henry's response: “Among all the great variety that you have known and studied.” has so much in common with this interaction in Pride & Prejudice:

“But perhaps,” observed Catherine, “though she has behaved so ill by our family, she may behave better by yours. Now she has really got the man she likes, she may be constant.” “Indeed I am afraid she will,” replied Henry; “I am afraid she will be very constant, unless a baronet should come in her way; that is Frederick’s only chance. I will get the Bath paper, and look over the arrivals.”

“I did not know before,” continued Bingley, immediately, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.” “Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage.” “The country,” said Darcy, “can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.” “But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever.”

Henry also manages to tip us off about his intentions to marry Catherine right under Catherine's oblivious nose!

"Prepare for your sister-in-law, Eleanor, and such a sister-in-law as you must delight in! Open, candid, artless, guileless, with affections strong but simple, forming no pretensions, and knowing no disguise.”

“Such a sister-in-law, Henry, I should delight in,” said Eleanor with a smile.

Catherine also realizes that she feels much less sad about losing Isabella than she thought she would, which Henry tells her to think about. The falseness of Isabella's friendship is dawning on Catherine, perhaps now just unconsciously.

*Quote illuminating this point from Wives & Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell, spoke by a character who would have been young during the Regency era: 'No, no, Cromer: bedrooms are for sleeping in, and sitting-rooms are for sitting in. Keep everything to its right purpose, and don't try and delude me into nonsense.' Why, my mother would have given us a fine scolding if she had ever caught us in our bedrooms in the daytime. We kept our out-door things in a closet downstairs; and there was a very tidy place for washing our hands, which is as much as one wants in the daytime.

#northanger abbey readthrough #northanger abbey #henry tilney #isabella thorpe #the letter from James

54 notes · View notes

watsonjackpot · 3 months ago

Text

+ ( So after seeing that cute giftset the other day from the end of the City That Never Sleeps DLC for MSM2, really think it was time to point out just how important a step like that is, not only for Peter and MJ's relationship, but for Mary Jane as a whole.

Buckle up, this may be a bit heavy.

Mary Jane, as a character, has shown more than a few times in differing canons that she can have a problem with intimacy. For a long period of time, she's been pretty adept at putting up a front to mask what she actually feels. Almost all of this stems from her family life growing up.

Mary Jane's father was a failed writer , and despite the loving way that their relationship and marriage started out, he quickly turned to take his anger out on not only Mary Jane's mother, Madeline, but also her and her sister, Gayle. Eventually, this was grounds for the three of them to outright leave . They bounced around from relative to relative, including Mary Jane's Aunt Anna, whom would come to play a big role in her life .

But the problems didn't just stop there. Gayle fell in love with a man, and married and quickly discovered she was pregnant with their first child. While things again were happy at first, they quickly began to fall apart , just as they had with Madeline and Philip . When Gayle broke the news to him that she was pregnant again, he abandoned her and their children, leaving Mary Jane and Madeline to help Gayle pick up the pieces.

This mirror of what had happened to their parents wasn't something Mary Jane could ignore.

Things truly came to a head in her life when Madeline fell ill, and eventually passed away, leaving Mary Jane and Gayle on their own. Having already developed the party-girl facade that she would allow to define her for years to come, Mary Jane finally snapped at the idea of now being the one who would be forced to help her sister raise her children.

It's important to note that Mary Jane had been using this mask for a long time by this point as well, to the point that Gayle entirely viewed her sister as not caring for her whatsoever. To MJ, it was like a second skin, and one that she almost seemed to prefer living in entirely.

Eventually, MJ came to live with her Aunt Anna , and finally find some grounding in her life. By this point, she was well aware that Peter Parker was Spider-Man, having found out the night that Uncle Ben was shot, and had been keeping this secret the entire time . Prior to this discovery, she had felt a sense of kinship with Spider-Man after seeing him on television, feeling that they both wore a mask to protect themselves. After finding out who really was under the mask, however, she couldn't deal with knowing the kind of dangers Peter was putting himself in, and actively avoided meeting him, despite Anna and May's attempts to set them up. Eventually, she ran out of excuses, and did meet him finally. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Fast forward a bit, and after having grown closer after the death of Gwen Stacy, Mary Jane and Peter did start to date a bit . Eventually, Peter thought that he should ask Mary Jane to marry him, which he did ... to be met not only with Mary Jane's rejection, but also that she was leaving to Florida with Aunt Anna . She would not return for a few years, but when she did, things with Peter eventually came to a head. She revealed that she did know he was Spider-Man, and that she had known all along . While this was initially done by her to explain why she couldn't handle being around him, it eventually led to their friendship becoming even more important in both of their lives.

After a mess of a situation involving Peter's then-romantic entangling's with Felicia Hardy, the Black Cat, Peter asked Mary Jane to marry him again. Right on the cusp of Mary Jane heading to Pittsburgh to deal with Gayle being arrested in connection with helping their father steal art . While her initial answer was again ' no ', she did concede that with how chaotic things were, she didn't have an answer for him. Leaving for Pittsburgh, Mary Jane quickly discovered upon landing that Peter had followed her there, intent on standing by her side while she dealt with her family issues.

It was this steadfast refusal to abandon her, and the way that the two of them teamed up to defeat a Spider-Slayer that had been tracking Peter, that finally made Mary Jane step back and think. She had long harbored fears that Peter, despite all the years she had known him, might end up being exactly like her father . But the way that time and time again, he had refused to abandon her, finally made her realize that she could trust Peter completely. While waiting for their flight back to New York, MJ agreed to marry him.

What does all this prove ? It shows just how much an important moment it is for Mary Jane, in any adaptation, to tell Peter that she's willing to make that step . Because it's not something that she would make with just anyone , but rather, it's a symbol of just how much she absolutely trusts Peter with that step . No-one else would ever be capable of that level of trust from her. No-one.

Furthermore, it highlights MJ being willing to push back her own fears of not being a good mother, or a good wife . Reading through the Spider-Man material post the wedding annual highlights just how much growth it takes for MJ to grow into the role of being a partner to Peter, especially given the horrors she had already witnessed via Madeline and Gayle's relationships . And she and Peter are not perfect , by any means. They have their spats, but they make up . They don't give up on one another, rewarding that faith MJ placed in him time and time again that things wouldn't end like her parents or Gayle's marriages .

It's this continued renewal of trust that makes it so when they do decide to take that step to having a family, it's without even a smidge of fear hanging over her . Because she knows that if there's anyone in the world who she could have that family with ? It's Peter , the person who she would trust with her life, time and time again .

#headcanons #tw: abuse

10 notes · View notes

themculibrary · 3 months ago

Text

Rich!Tony Masterlist

Black AmEx (ao3) - copperbadge G, 4k

Summary: Bruce isn't sure he wants to use a credit card Tony gave him. Steve isn't sure he even knows how.

Brooklyn Cats (ao3) - SushiOwl steve/tony E, 29k

Summary: (No Powers AU)

Steve Rogers is an art student who is comfortable being depressed and alone. Tony Stark comes along and messes that all up.

buy the brooklyn bridge (ao3) - plingo_kat steve/tony G, 3k

Summary: It’s a whole new world, and Steve finds himself fitting in pretty well. Especially with Tony Stark as a guide.

Can’t Stop Us RoboDads (ao3) - justanotherpipedream, rebelmeg T, 13k

Summary: The story of how a genius rich kid from New York and a poor military-bound kid from South Philly meet, get into shenanigans, birth a few bots, and forge a life-long friendship.

Discretionary Spending (ao3) - midgetnazgul G, 7k

Summary: Fill for a prompt on the Avengers kinkmeme.

Original prompt: Tony really enjoys buying/building the other Avengers things they mention wanting or needing. Natasha mentions this obscure brand of expensive chocolates she once enjoyed on a mission and can't seem to find? Tony orders some in bulk. Bruce misses a certain tea, or mentions in passing that he wants a piece of lab equipment? Already bought it, and here I made adjustments so the equipment is even better than it was! Steve wants a really old film that's only on VHS and is really hard to find? Oh, I just had it in storage… Clint likes perching up high, but lacks enough places to do so in comfort? Was just about to remodel the place anyway. Thor mentions some obscure Nordic food that he misses? Tony knows just the place…

Point being, they eventually catch on to the fact that Tony notices things, and proceeds to do what needs to be done to get those things for them. No matter how often he stays in his lab for three days in a row, or how much he throws sarcastic comments, or acts just plain rude, he cares a lot. This leads to the entire team being nicer as a whole to Tony.

Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend (ao3) - camichats wanda/tony E, 14k

Summary: Wanda ends up as Tony Stark’s sugar baby to help get her through college. Getting into that relationship was the last thing she expected and falling in love came as a surprise to both of them.

Down On The Farm (ao3) - tellxmebby steve/tony E, 7k

Summary: Tony laughs, throwing an old rag at the blond man, who bats it away in the air. "Fuck you."

"Mm," Steve rolls back under the car with a newly fitted socket, "maybe later."

Steve grins up at the chrome above him at the lack of response. It must take Tony a minute to recover, but when he does Steve hears him huff.

Faithless (ao3) - TheZev mary jane watson/tony E, 7k

Summary: While living in Stark Tower, Mary Jane decides she’s had enough of being Peter Parker’s broke wife. Now she’d rather be Tony Stark’s rich sugar baby.

Living ain’t cheap (ao3) - Strength_in_pain N/R, 2k

Summary: “I thought our utility bill would be lower. Shit shit shit.” May cried, running a hand through her hair. Or Peter is worried about May because their financial struggles have gotten worse and he ends up needing Tony Stark.

people like you must be the world’s loneliest creatures (ao3) - avienexjel bucky/tony N/R, 96k (WIP)

Summary: Tony Stark is rich, popular, and an arrogant asshole. In other words: his IQ rivals Einstein’s, he’s slept with most of his friends at least once, and he’s so fucking lonely that sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night in the dark and cries into the cold sheets on the other side of the bed.

It’s no different at his new boarding school called SHIELD, at first. Half of the students love him to death, the other half want to murder him, nothing new. That is, until Tony accidentally breaks James Barnes’s prosthetic arm and he finds the most vulnerable pieces of himself crawling their ways to the surface whether he wants them to or not.

peter’s stars (ao3) - IronPengu, parkrstark steve/tony T, 175k

Summary: Steve and Peter lose their apartment and are kicked out on the streets. Steve has to juggle between jobs to earn whatever money he can, take care of his son while resfusing to let him realize how much they’re trouble in, and keep them warm and safe on the city streets in winter.

So, he really doesn’t have time to date the billionaire that flirts with him everyday as he buys his cup of coffee. Even if he did, he can’t let himself fall for the man. Because if he knew that he lived from a backpack and showered in a public bathroom there’s no way he’d still want him…right?

Rich Man, Poor Man (ao3) - sassyfangs13 steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Steve grew up in a time when sharing what little you had was the norm so when Tony starts buying him rediculous gifts he doesn't really know what to say.

the weight of water (ao3) - citsiurtlanu steve/tony M, 31k

Summary: Tony Stark is a rich socialite who’s reached a dead end in his life. Steve Rogers is a poor artist who works from job to job. Both of them are passengers on the biggest ship in the world. Yup, it’s a Titanic AU.

To Destroy a Legacy, to Ruin a Legend. (ao3) - AniAuthor N/R, 1k

Summary: Tony Stark doesn't need his armor or even to fight Steve Roger's team to destroy them. He just needs what he always had: his empire that he and his father built, his wealth, and control over the media. After all, you don't take a multi-million empire and turn it into a multi-billion empire by letting others walk all over you. Read to find out how Tony Stark destroys Team Captain America without even fighting after T'Challa uses his influence to pardon them in the States.

Trophy of a One Night Stand (ao3) - BurdenedWithPointlessPurpose tony/stephen E, 35k

Summary: Becoming a professor had never been on Tony’s dream list. As a single parent with a child though he is hoping it will provide everything they need in their life. Stability. Structure. Satisfaction. It all sounds plausible in theory, at least until he really gets there and an Alpha uproots his plans. Although it’s actually debatable in the best way. He may have not sought his son’s birth Alpha out, but apparently life has its own plans after all.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #tony stark #masterlists #rich!tony #rich!tony masterlist #rich #richpoor #au #ceo!tony

9 notes · View notes

voltstone · 8 months ago

Text

THE THREE (OF FIVE) TWDG DEATHS WHICH HAUNT ME SO

Okay, so this is more of an opinion piece than it is an essay, but like, all of my essays are my own opinion anyway… Whatever. This is an opinion piece, I don't care.

Basically.

These are the 3 TWDG deaths that got to me.

Plus the, like, other two that definitely got to me too, but…they're different. I'll get into it.

I could have made this into more of an essay-essay, but whatever. I have two more in the works, one of them being more of a commentary which includes both Luke and Brody's, and then another one that's about Ben and Sarah actually.

Both of those will take a little bit, and I have a suspicion the first may end up being the longest essay by the end.

Anyway. Here's this.

[The Boring Ones]

My Clementine shot Lee, and she shot Kenny after he killed Jane. Very sadness. Got knots and tears in my throat.

So. There you go.

Anyway—

Okay, I am being a little bit of an ass. Of course there's a lot to analyze and evaluate with both deaths. Lee's is reflective of his character and what he wants for Clementine. S2's ending, meanwhile, is reflective of Clementine herself, just in a very different way; it's a test of loyalty and, given how I tend to play, a testament of what she would do at a breaking point; or, it could also be another decision of what's best for her, should the player choose based off of what information they have.

The main reason why I won't really consider these two of the "TWDG deaths that got to me" is… Well, for one, there's already been in-depth analyses of both, and while I could contribute, it would take analyzing their respective seasons as well, picking apart player choice, and yada yada. Secondly, this essay is more about the "smaller" deaths. Not the ones that are as emphasized in this way by the narrative. These deaths represent the losses along the way, and some of them hurt more than others, and get a rise.

That being said, one of them is related to these in how I processed the narrative, so one of these two will come up again. Just, less as a remark of the scene itself, and more a remark of the "smaller" death.

Anyhow, both of these scenes are catastrophic moments in the narrative either way. But because they are so catastrophic, they're not really relevant to this.

This is also what arguably makes this essay not that but instead an opinion piece. If I wanted to go in a more "essay" route (evaluation), I would have been focused on deconstructing the deaths that got to Clementine as a character and why, since that would be more of an analysis of TWDG, not the deaths that got to me because… I dunno. It's my feelings and my opinion.

And I feel like sharing it transparently here. Rather than using my own inferences or experiences as example.

[LUKE]

But! But! Luke's death was so stupid and didn't need to happen it was just a way for the season to be all depressing and stupid and—! And they could've walked around or crawled better on the ice and, and—!

Okay. I don't give a shit.

Not to say that I don't recognize the blaring narrative issues surrounding this moment, because I do. There is a lot to comment on; in fact, as I mentioned, this is one of the two deaths which will be analyzed in another essay. So in that essay, I will actually care about it.

Regardless, it's not that relevant here. Kinda. I won't indulge in it too much. There's no war in Ba Sing Se. Shh.

Luke's death is just tragedy, plain and simple.

The group is crossing this lake, desperate to just get out of the open winter and into some semblance of shelter. The house was never finished, but the fact that they still gun for it speaks to their desperation. …even if the game could have emphasized the desperation more, in the moment. But. Whatever.

With Luke's death, there's three different ways it can happen. Clementine listens to Bonnie, and goes to help Luke immediately. Clementine listens to Luke initially, and keeps the walkers off him while Bonnie goes against his word and tries to help. Both scenarios, two fall into the ice, that being Luke and whoever's closer. Then, there's a secondary option should Clementine try to save Luke thereafter, and she'll fall into the ice as well.

Bonnie's fate is also decided here. Depending on the choices, she'll die.

Regardless though, there was a slim chance that Luke was going to get out of that, if any at all. Once that ice started to break through, I don't really know if there would be anything he could've done. Some say he could've gotten closer to the ice to spread his weight better, so that it's not concentrated onto one point. However, Luke doesn't.

For one thing, the character may have been doomed due to his ignorance. If Luke didn't grow up around ice, he wouldn't have known.

Two, he was shot in his leg, and the walkers weren't helping things. So while yes, he may have had the chance to escape the ice, I don't know if Luke's mobility would have allowed it. Simply put, he was wounded by the shootout. And as S2 is concerned, this does represent the narrative's symbolic mark on him: Luke was wounded by a running motif of S2, which I will get to with Rebecca's death. It does say something. You know. Symbolically.

It's this slim chance, on top of the desperation, which has his death be the tragedy it is.

I always interpreted Luke, in that moment, realized he was out of luck. He knew his weight alone was too much, and anyone else—including the child, who's lighter than Bonnie—would've just exacerbated it.

Either way, Bonnie made it worse. Because she's desperate, and when you're desperate, the facts suddenly don't matter until said facts decide to rear their ugly heads.

Tried to save Luke. Fact of the matter was, that wasn't realistic.

Same way the group as a whole tried to save on time and energy, and just cross the ice. It could have been done. Everybody was in front of Luke once he got to that part of the ice, but… Caution was the sacrifice, and Luke got killed for it.

This reading of Luke's demise is another reason why I don't really care about how "unrealistic" it was, or how "stupid."

Was it stupid? Yes. Unrealistic? No.

Because people do die like this, and at a point in the season where the group got to a desperate point, it was only a matter of time before that eagerness to survive got someone killed. I firmly believe that's what his death was supposed to represent.

…the issues around it, which I will better deconstruct and analyze in another essay, boils down to the 1) confusion in the narrative, and 2) the fact that it's Luke. I don't mind that it was Luke, but I understand why people get upset that it's this character dying the way he did.

S2 does stumble a little bit in the reasoning behind them crossing the lake. I think desperation would have been the reason regardless, and it's a realistic one, but I do think they could've done a better job in really cementing that it was desperation. And then, also… The whole lake thing. There is one change that would've fixed everything, and it's a really simple one that was already established:

Make it a river. No, literally. Just make it so that there's no other way to cross. And also, if it was a river, have someone (I say Bonnie, Mike, or Kenny) freak out that they just need a break (which would've signaled that desperation). This being instead of just seeing the house, Kenny complaining, and Mike pointing out that they're there for supplies or something.

…which like, no Mike. You want the shelter too, you dingbat.

But, I digress.

Now, I'll go back to my final decision of S2, because Luke's death absolutely haunted that choice, hence why this death of S2 struck the way it did despite the narrative stumble. In the moment, no, I didn't really think about anything. I just had a visceral reaction and shot Kenny without even reading the other options.

Cuz I was feeling ✨spicy✨.

And by spicy, I mean agitated. There was a domino effect at play, one that Christa's separation incited. However, by this point, so much had already happened.

Then there's just Kenny.

Kenny would blow up, he'd feel remorse, and he'd apologize—like he'd done at the pylon. Then. He just. Turned around, and did the same shit thereafter, despite apology. He beat Arvo when Clementine needed a fire. Because she was climbing to Death's door with hypothermia closing in, and was still rattled from breaking through the ice in a panic to get Luke back.

But here Kenny was beating on a teenager. And when my Clementine went to stop him, he was again remorseful for accidentally hitting Clementine… Yet. Kenny still snapped at her. After that remorse on his face. Muttered a cruel line about "thought you liked this kind of thing" because she'd supported him before with Carver.

And over, and over, and over again. Until a breaking point.

A breaking point, which, I always found was marked by Luke's death in particular. He had been the catalyst to that season's final descent—like how the moment Lee got bit was S1's final catalyst. My Clementine fell into the ice for him, because panic and that desperation arose. She was pulled out, and within that timespan of needing a fire, there was Bonnie, who again didn't help and blamed Clementine. But then, Kenny decided to perpetuate the same cycle that had been a bane on her, even though he, again, apologized before. This same cycle that my Clementine relied on Luke and focus on AJ to escape from.

Except, all of a sudden, there was only AJ to escape to. Luke was gone.

So for my Clementine, he had been the catalyst because he had been the one adult she ultimately needed, regardless of his own shortcomings. She didn't know what to do with Jane, and she was losing her forbearance with Kenny because again, yes, he was a lot to navigate for a child.

And in conjunction with the imagery of Luke in the water (yikes dude, you don't look too good), yeah. It's in the top 3 for me.

[REBECCA]

I quite like Rebecca. I find her character interesting, especially as more time passes, and you realize her aggression in the beginning is…a farce, more or less. Not to say Rebecca can't be confident, or hostile, because we definitely get that side of her after she warms to Clementine, but, she is far more of an anxious woman trying to survive for her baby than anything else. She's stressed about who the father is. There's dead people just walking around. One of the potential fathers is hunting her down for the sake of "his" child.

And then there's just this random ass kid with a mauled arm, because Clementine was bitten. Just by a dog, not…a dead people.

So like yeah, Rebecca's so mean to Clementine in the beginning, but…Imma be honest, I don't know how many people wouldn't have at least been cautious of Clementine.

Once Rebecca does warm up to her, and we see more of that anxiety, and then her desperation/hope to have AJ… She's a nice lady. One of my favorite lines of hers is when she talks about AJ, she's hopeful because regardless of who she gives birth to, this is a new person she'd get to meet.

I just like her, so by the time she panics within the herd, and Clementine is there to help, of course I have Clementine oblige.

…now sure, did that reliance on her feed into the whole "child doing the adulting thing when she shouldn't have"? Well. Yeah.

But she's a nervous pregnant woman, I think asking for any kind of help when actively in a herd is the least concerning instance of "child doing the adulting thing."

She does die though. So. There's that whole thing.

I will say the one thing I do kind of wish is it should have mattered where it happened, or how it went, should the group choose to stay at the observatory deck to rest, or go to the nearby town as soon as they can. Rebecca is going to die regardless; she does not look good after giving birth, and I'm assuming it was both a case of 1) over-exhaustion, and 2) bleeding out that really weakened her, which leaves the hypothermia as that final nail in the coffin.

But, at the same time, the shootout would be at the spot it is regardless because that was where the Russian group had set their trap, it just so happens that Clementine came across Arvo before. And symbolically, so much of this death hinges on the fact that it starts this shootout. It is S2 at its core; if you want to summarize this season, this is the scene to do so.

Hence why I say kind of. I'm always going to value narrative significance over realism whenever there is a conflict of interest between the two. It's nice to have both, but stories are seldom perfect, so. Yeah. The group is at the observation deck for a few days, however, (if you choose to,) so I just…wish there was more of an impact than the dialogue right before the shooting. But, whatever.

Rebecca's death is depressing, and it's indicative of neglect.

Hence why it's here, in this post.

It's also why I will fight tooth and nail for this season, regardless of its shortcomings.

Unlike with Luke, I'll work my way backwards and start with the symbolism/narrative significance for the season before the moment itself.

S2 has a running motif of the Civil War, especially in the episodes after Howe's Hardware, however, you could also include Howe's in the theme. You have people working under a ruthless leader—including Rebecca, who could be bearing his child—, and those people escape. And what does Carver do? He chases them down, in the same manner that slave owners would chase down their slaves. And once he catches them, they're sent to forced labor, aside for the man (Alvin) who posed a threat to Carver's legitimacy as a father, and Rebecca, who was pregnant with a child he could raise like a crop to a field.

…which has me wonder if Rebecca and Alvin both being black, and Carver not was a coincidence, or a conscious choice. On top of Carver being someone fixated on the survival of a strong progeny.

Though as I said, the motif is especially found after Howe's Hardware, because that's when the season decides to be blunt. They find sanctuary in a Civil War site, from a museum to the observation deck. And sure, as much as it is a cheeky nod back to Lee...

This motif is S2's identity. You can't just separate the two and expect to get a grounded understanding of what S2 is as an environment. S2's about Clementine navigating the adult world way too soon, and growing up in the same manner. The environment she's put in is…a civil war.

And it being in winter is actually a very crucial element.

See: Fredricksberg, a battle set in Dec. 11-15 between Lee's Army of Northern Virginia and Burnside's Army of the Potomac… Hm.

I can (and probably will someday) go on and on and on.

Conflict like this is perpetuated throughout the season, and it's concluded with the ultimate civil conflict—between Kenny and Jane, the last two adults in Clementine's group. And it's also found at the time of Rebecca's death, because that sense of conflict is absolutely present given the shootout.

…except, what is interesting is Rebecca's death is the one scene that does not reference the Civil War. It references the United States' Revolutionary War.

Specifically, the shot heard round the world, which is derivative of that first shot which initiated battles in Lexington and Concord (April 19, 1775). The catalyst to the American Revolution, between the colonists, and the English—who were deemed to be invading.

Here, we have S2's core group, and then…another group. Who's distinctly foreign, given the Russian accent and language.

And the shot heard round this season is either dealt by Clementine herself, or Kenny, in order to put down Rebecca's reanimated corpse. The shot wasn't directed at either side here. However, it didn't matter, So in the confusion, the shootout began.

In the same way I can rattle on and on over the Civil War motif throughout, I can rattle on about this scene alone. I won't, aside for this:

This scene feels different because of the sheer amount of symbolism backing it. It's what I mean when I say this scene is S2 at its core. There's the revolutionary symbolism, which illustrates how the group does put aside their differences to fight a common enemy—that being the Russians here, but also the apocalypse itself, given Rebecca's reanimation. Yet, before and after this…, it goes back to the Civil War motif because the "common enemy" is not the central threat. The contention between everyone and their differences are.

So then, the moment itself...

There's this desolation to it. Rebecca died out in the open, still cradling AJ, and Clementine is the only one who notices.

That moment, where the adults are caught up in their own dispute, leaving the child to recognize the situation for what it actually is, and where she's forced to navigate on her own whether or not to take that first shot, or to have one of the adults (Kenny) do it...

It is the one of few deaths I can picture vividly without having to reference a screen.

And, it really speaks to that desolation. The one that the season is adamant to hammer home, because it wants you to miss Lee. To the point it actively uses its motif to kill two birds with one stone and do just that. S2 is where Lee becomes less a comfort, and more of a realization: he was an anomaly in the apocalypse.

Not all Lees were perfect, and did make huge mistakes, but Lee as a person always knew how to treat Clementine, and she never was put into these kind of positions where there's adults around, but there's something happening, why aren't you listening? Why don't you notice me? I need you to actually be there to support me.

It's a lot of why the season is the way it is, and why this scene in particular struck me the way it did. Because throughout it all, I was bombarded by the thought, how did it get to this point? It's nothing like S1's shootout where Clementine was ducked into safety immediately; here, she sees Rebecca, and then she's asked to contribute so that Luke can be a dumbass and dart from one cover to another.

I digress, though.

Like with Luke, there is a lot of narrative implications with Rebecca's death, and the trend will continue in Brody. For the sake of this post, that's telling of me more than anything else. But it is hard to separate the strings attached to each since, often times, whenever something really hits close, it's because there's other contexts to it.

And I also like storytelling. So. Duh.

For me, that other context with Rebecca is S2 as a whole, and the reason why S2 as a whole hits way too close to home is cuz um. Neglect when there's people around you hurts like a bitch. Owie. Thanks for the catharsis, I guess. But also thanks for the symbolic warfare stuff, I do come from a military family.

In any case, I will move onto the last death, because the death in itself is brutal, and Brody's walker is also just…terrifying.

[BRODY]

I like Luke. I quite like Rebecca.

And I really like Brody's character. It's a shame that she only was given so much time, and that's given you even choose to go fishing with her. But within that time, her character is solid. From her design to her dialogue and voice acting, and then to the tension she has with Violet—it's a nice bit of depth to have.

Like a pothole, neglected by the government for years, so there's enough room to dump the bodies.

Now that being said…, I don't mind that she dies so early on. For a number of reasons, but for the sake of this essay, her death really sets the tone, and it does a number of things that feeds into some of what the season explores.

For one, the gravity of the situation Marlon and Brody landed themselves in, right with the rest of the schoolkids. It also better contextualizes Marlon's character, and why he would be troubled youth. Because him bashing her head with a flashlight is a stark contradiction to what kind of person he prides himself to be, right down to how articulate he is in his verbiage.

Two, the state of the apocalypse. The fight between Clementine and Brody's reanimated corpse was a horror in itself, which had been the scene's intention. And that alone says a lot because Clementine knows how to fight at this point, the walkers the player encounters before this are all corroded, so...

Yeah, the apocalypse is still at large, just in a different way, and Brody presents that to us.

Before the reanimation, however, there is the death in itself.

And I can go on about symbolism, and narrative bullshit, and all that stuff cuz I'm a writer, blah blah blah… All the stuff that I did with the previous two deaths.

But I won't because Brody is distinct in that it's not the narrative strings attached that rattle me. The narrative bullshit comes with her reanimated corpse.

So when I see her death, I don't see the Civil War and American Revolution analogies like I do with Rebecca, nor the sentiment of desperation and a catalyst effect like I do with Luke.

All I see is brutality.

Brody's death is the most gutting of the games.

At least, not literally. And also to me, of course, since this is an opinion piece… Or whatever.

Brody is struck once in the head, mid-sentence as she is trying to tell Clementine the truth. And the moment it happens, Brody is completely disorientated.

She first asks, "What did you say?" Then she collapses. Is rendered blind, confused, and has to have her memory jogged to remember who Clementine is as Clementine kneels at her side.

And despite everything, Brody still tells Clementine everything she can.

But there is one line that absolutely guts me:

"Marlon'll kill me if I tell."

Brody is so out of it, she still has yet to truly grasp what happened.

Because. Brody...

Marlon already did.

She is actively dying from her own murder, because of Marlon, and she still is so scared that she tells Clementine the danger she's in.

My coal heart breaks whenever I hear that line, because it's a horrible way to go. One minute you're firm on you ground, telling someone what you need to say, and then next, you're just trying to cobble together the world around you before you're just…gone. That's it.

I wouldn't be surprised if Brody's last conscious moment was before the flashlight struck.

And, of course, the direction of this scene does everything. The voicework, the camera, the lighting. It all just works to elevate how dark, and how brutal this scene is.

Then we get to the reanimation, where again, it's a horror. The scene portrays it as a horror. There's the moment where Brody comes out of the shadows to snatch Clementine right back down into the basement. There's the parallel to Lee with the hammer and Sandra.

But ultimately, Brody serves as this season's reminder as to how dangerous TWDG's apocalypse remains to be. Sure, all the walkers now are decayed. They can't move as well. They don't hit as hard. So they only get really dangerous whenever they're in herds.

…yet, Brody's corpse is a huge threat. Why?

Well. While Brody's body was horking and growling in the shadows, Clementine is just waltzing around getting the flashlight and then a ruler to get out. She doesn't pay any mind to…Brody. Even though Clementine could clearly see that Brody was away from the broiler.

It's a false sense of security, which was ultimately how the apocalypse started in the first place; it took the world by surprise, and people panicked, and it spread all the more.

Not only that, Brody was a survivor. Her corpse is stronger than a lot of the earlier walkers because for the past many years, she had to build the muscle and dexterity to, you know, survive. And just before this scene, we see Brody knock Marlon flat on his ass because she's not dainty, here. She's really strong.

Maybe not quite on Clementine's level, but she's strong enough to pose a threat as a walker.

I just think it's cool. This death. And Rebecca's death. And Luke's death. I also like S2, I don't care.

Anyway that's it.

No I'm not giving this a proper conclusion. I'm done.

#volt's library #twdg essay #twdg #the walking dead game #twdg clementine #twdg lee #twdg brody #twdg luke #twdg rebecca #twdg 1 #twdg 2 #twdg 3 #twdg 4 #twdg kenny #i say essay it's more like an opinion piece i guess #i dunno

32 notes · View notes