#new photo drop white rabbit

[malibu-barb]

[hippiegoth97]

Random Jonathan Thought #1

Content Warning, 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, perv!jonathan byers, perv!fem!reader, no use of y/n, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, sexual fantasies, mentions of casual sex (protection not specified), mentions of sexual photos, no dialogue

Some Tags: @rafeyscurtainbangs @loserboysandlithium @mediocredreams @strangererotica @melodymunson

@bloodibambiidoll @userchai @violetpixiedust @keikoraven @keeksandgigz

He's watching you again.

A surge of excitement jolts through you at the thought. To see him peeking around the corner of his wispy white curtains from across the alley, in the building that serves as identical twin sister to yours. You'd just gotten home a couple of minutes ago, dropping off your purse and coat at the door, feeding your cat, Mr. Whiskers, before going to your room. It's been a very long day at the office for you, and all you've been able to think about is coming back to this.

It all started totally by accident. You noticed an unfamiliar man moving into the building next door, a handsome yet odd young blood who came to NYC to achieve some far-fetched artistic dream. Boxes of stuff nearly bursting from his junker of a car, expensive camera draped around his neck for safe keeping. It was too much for you to resist helping him as you watched him struggle from a couple floors above ground. You called down to him, offering your assistance, and he was more than glad to take it.

You helped him haul every last box up the couple flights of stairs, coming to find out his new apartment sits right across the narrow alley from your own. You commented on such, letting him know he could feel free to wave to you in passing if the mood struck. Little did you know, that this innocent enough offer would soon open a rather taboo door, never to be closed again by the look of it. In thanks of your help, the young man formally introduced himself, and ordered some take-out from a Chinese place you recommended.

Jonathan, you soon learned was his name. He was only a couple of years younger than you, still in his very early twenties, taking the one opportunity he had to get out of his wretchedly small hometown. He told you about his family, and you told him about yours. Not much to go on there, as you'd run away at sixteen to escape a couple of drunks you unfortunately called 'Mom' and 'Dad'. Nevertheless, you and Jonathan had a nice, casual talk, promising to look out for one another as neighbors. Neighbors. That's what you were supposed to be. Instead of playing this mildly fucked-up game you can't seem to find a way out of. Not that you're really complaining.

Back to the subject, it all started on a particularly humid night. As is typical for living in the Big Apple, your shitty landlord couldn't be bothered to have proper air conditioning put into his numerous rental properties. So, you had decided to go nearly naked in your apartment to beat the heat. You had a fan going, the window open as wide as it could go, lounging around in a thin t-shirt and skimpy panties.

You were in your room, trying to settle in for the night. But it was just too hot. You'd decided, fuck it, you can't sleep, and you may as well have a reason to be hot and bothered. You pulled open your bedside drawer, retrieving a reliable rabbit to satiate your growing hunger for release. You shoved your panties off, kicking them over the side of the bed. You clicked the toy on, which began buzzing firmly in your hand. You didn't waste any time at all, spreading your legs wide open and bringing the head of the rabbit to your needy clit.

Little did you know, at first, that Jonathan was getting the most perfect, pornographic view of you from across the alley. He'd been laid up in bed, lights off as he struggled to find some way to stay cool. He was completely nude between his thin sheets, and still sweating like a damn pig. He kept tossing and turning, eventually giving up and clicking on the small TV in his room to watch a movie or something. While he flipped mindlessly through the channels, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see what the movement was, and found you splayed out on your bed, touching yourself. He gasped in shock, fumbling with the remote so he didn't drop it loudly on the floor. Your buildings were definitely close enough to where you could hear a decent amount of sound if the windows were left open.

He caught the offending device, tossing it beside him on the bed. The little show you were putting on became far more interesting. Jonathan did briefly battle with himself whether or not it was right to be watching you like this, but his rapidly hardening cock won that argument. He rationalized it to himself, that maybe you wanted him to see you. You always left your curtains open, and waved at him at all hours of the day, whether you were fully dressed, or wrapped in nothing but a towel. He'd deal with the guilt later, he decided. He just couldn't bear to take his eyes off of you. His young, hot neighbor, who was currently lost in pleasure as she fucked herself with a silicone rabbit.

While Jonathan grappled with the potential implications of what spying on you could mean for your neighborly relationship, you continued to work the toy between your legs exactly to your liking. The thick shaft slid in and out of your pussy with ease, arousal spilling from you messily every few strokes. The buzzing 'ears' of the rabbit whirred against your clit, building you up towards an orgasm you realized you desperately needed. You weren't thinking about anyone in particular while doing this, mainly focusing on the sensations you were feeling with your eyes screwed shut.

But something felt off. Like someone was watching you. You peeled your eyes open for a moment, still going to town on yourself. Your eyes drifted around the room, looking for anything potentially lurking in the dark corners. Shadows were cast by the summer moon shining through your window, and your eyes drew past the open pane without much thought. That is, until you saw him. Jonathan, your neighbor, was watching you from the very edge of his own window. You couldn't make out much of him in the dark, but you knew he was there. The faintest outline of his head peered back at you.

Part of you wanted to stop, to stand up and go to the window and shout across the alley about how much of a pervert he was. It would've been the logical thing to do at such an invasion of privacy. But the other part, found it extremely hot that your cute neighbor wanted to see you in this way. You decided to play along, raising your free hand to wiggle your fingers at him like you always did, with a playful smirk plastered on your face.

Jonathan jerked back from the window at first when you waved, his face going red as a beet at getting caught. His heart pounded in his chest, he wondered how he would ever face you again after this. But the look on your face, and how you kept going, made him realize that you weren't grossed out, or offended. He was right, you liked it. He leaned back into view, perhaps a little further to let you know he was there. He waved back, and settled himself on the edge of his bed to watch you even more. His hand found his cock already dripping with need, a low moan escaping his thin lips as he closed his fist around himself.

When Jonathan came back into your line of sight, it was very clear what he was doing. You couldn't quite see below the window sill, but you could tell he was jerking off by the way his arm moved up and down, and how his mouth feel open just slightly. He was getting off on watching you. This only made the fire inside you burn hotter, making you feel as if you were melting into the bed at this point. You began to think of him now. You kept your eyes locked on him as you pounded your pussy with your toy, wishing it was him instead. You wanted Jonathan there, to touch you, kiss you, fuck you until you screamed his name. You wanted to have him there in your bed, sitting is his lap while his slender fingers pumped away inside you. You wanted to take his no-doubt gorgeous cock in your mouth, and suck the utter life out of him while he held you down. You wanted to ride him until your legs gave out, and have him fill you up with his sticky cum.

Jonathan refused to look away as your motions grew needier, your wrist getting a pretty good workout as you shoved the toy in harder, faster, deeper. He envied the thing, wishing he could be there instead. He stroked himself in time with your thrusts, dreaming up very filthy things about you to fill in the gaps. He craved the feeling of your lips on his neck, kissing and sucking all kinds of nasty bruises on his pale flesh. He wished for the opportunity to fuck your face until tears rolled down your cheeks and drool pooled heavily on your chin. He wanted to shove your head deep into your mattress while pounding you from behind, slapping your ass and making you squeal until you came all over his cock.

You could see him getting closer, and felt yourself doing the same. Your helpless moans and cries grew louder as the minutes passed, and you hoped Jonathan was able to hear them. Despite your wrist beginning to get tired in your fervor, you soldiered on. You weren't stopping for anything. You were making an absolute mess of your bed, sweat and juices dripping from you and soaking directly into the sheets. But you didn't care. You needed to cum, and you needed it soon. You kept hold of the idea of Jonathan's cock being the object fucking into you instead of the rabbit, moaning for him again and again when its rubber head hit your g-spot just right.

Jonathan was close, and he could tell you were, too. Fuck, he could hear some of those filthy noises you were making, which only pushed him closer to the edge. He listened and watched as you whined out his name, your thighs trembling as your orgasm was almost taking hold. His own high hit him unexpectedly, and he did his best to stand up to show you as his release spilled from his dick in thick spurts. He groaned loud enough for you to hear, still staring at you as his cum landed on his hand and the floor.

You cried out his name in ecstasy when you saw him lose control, eyes rolling back just after you watched him stand to show you his release. Your body shook as you came seconds after him, more mess spilling out of you and all over the bed. You heard it splash from your pussy, drenching your thighs and the sheets. You turned the toy off as your high ran its course, tossing it off to the side with little care where it would land. Once you caught your breath, you sat up to look across the alley again. You found Jonathan looking back at you, and he gave you another small wave. Awe rested in his eyes, probably from the massive amount of cum that came out of you just seconds before. You waved back at him, a satisfied smile on your face. You cleaned up and fell right asleep shortly after that, and Jonathan did the same.

After that first incident, this kind of thing became rather normal for the two of you. On many nights, either one or both of you will put on a 'show' of some kind. Most times it's just a silly strip tease, removing your clothes nice and slow while the other one watches. Even if it never leads to simultaneous masturbation, it's still highly thrilling for you. Other times, you up the stakes. Sometimes, one of you brings a date home. You bring them to your room, take off all your clothes, and go to town while the other one watches the whole thing.

None of these encounters are something you discuss beforehand. Oddly enough, your sexual adventures seem to only exist between the span of your twin windows, using them like mirrors you gaze into to feed your wildest fantasies. Outside of them, you only give polite greetings or farewells as you go about your lives. It's easier that way, you suppose. Not to mention far more exciting.

During the times when either of you bring a partner home, it's borderline intoxicating. You can't begin to count the number of times you've looked out the window to see Jonathan roughly fisting himself as you're getting absolutely railed. It heightens every sensation to know he's watching you, wishing he was the man to make you scream. Hell, sometimes he even has his camera out, snapping photos of you in every compromising position imaginable. Photos he later develops and slips underneath your door for you, sometimes with suggestive notes, or photos of himself to compliment them.

You, on the other hand, like to play with yourself in bed when Jonathan brings a girl to his place. You copy the positions he puts her in, fucking yourself on the rubber rabbit while he steals greedy glances over at you. You cum at the same time every time he does this, due to him timing his thrusts and speed to what he knows gets you off. And he hasn't even been on the other side of your window to figure that out.

It's been going on for months now, and you swear you'll never get enough. This little unspoken arrangement you have is probably the healthiest relationship you've ever been in, and you aren't even actually dating. You barely ever even say a word to each other, and you're unbelievably happy. You get everything you want, without having to deal with the dramatic bullshit that comes from typical relationships. And tonight, it looks like you little voyeur friend has brought a pretty blonde home. All that's left to do now is get in position, and enjoy the show.

[ghoultrifle]

I know it’s a bit early but I really hope we get some fan fiction of phantom celebrating Halloween for the first time

Thank you anon! I took this and kinda combined it with @p1nkcanoe's post here because i adore the idea of the abbey descending into chaos for two months a year. Also big credit to @marsohthree for her Phantom Halloween thoughts!

Here's 1.8k words of Phantom's first Halloween! This is somewhat based on unmasked Phantom but that's just because i never celebrated Halloween as a kid so he's all i have to go off asfhajghaldgh. Stick around to the end for a cute photo of Barbie and Ken! (also this is my first non-smut story and i'm a bit rusty, sorry!)

Phantom was practically vibrating with excitement, yes it was only September 1st but he’d heard today was the start of something called ‘Spooky Season’. Some people (Swiss) called it ‘Spoopy Season’ but that was silly because spoopy isn’t a proper word and it doesn’t even mean scary! 

The clock struck midnight, signalling the end of Summer and the start of two months of ghoul-induced chaos, Phantom was loving it. By the time the sun rose on the first of September, the walls of the Abbey were already covered in spray-on cobwebs and the glass panes in the doors stained with a bone-chilling red. Phantom had been the one to source the blood, having recently learned how to hunt with Cumulus; he absolutely was not a natural and the blood covering the walls had sprayed from the new ghoul after he mistook his tail for a rabbit.

All the ghouls from different disciplines of the clergy, including the band ghouls, collaborated on turning the Abbey into a hellfest, literally. They tried to recreate the atmosphere of the pit, only in the ghoul’s quarters of course, they’re not monsters. The mixed quarters, common areas between humans and ghouls, were turned into more of a haunted house with your typical Halloween attractions and scares.

Phantom couldn’t contain his goofy smile as he helped set up the mixed quarters, placing plastic spiders that he animated using his quintessence to occasionally scurry across the fake webs. He was dressed in a slutty devil costume, Rain dressed in the accompanying angel costume. Phantom’s red skirt barely covered his ass and his black mesh top matched his patchy painted nails. Rain was sporting a white miniskirt with thigh highs to match and a halo headband. Of course none of the ghouls needed to dress up, they could simply unglamour themselves, but it was more fun to do it this way.

The first ritual of the day was to carve the ministry’s pumpkins. After the hunting mishap, the pack decided Phantom was not to be trusted with a knife and was instead relegated to design and project management. He chose a bat design, of course, and carefully stood on his tiptoes watching over Aether’s shoulder as he carved out the flying creatures. Once the new ghoul was satisfied with his elder’s work he picked it up like a baby and would not let go, showing it proudly to everyone he met.

It got so bad he almost took it into the shower before Dew whisked it away, “Nuh uh lil guy, I am not cleaning pumpkin seeds out the drain. You can have it back after.” Dew proceeded to accidentally drop the pumpkin as he was walking back to Phantom’s room, startled by the motion-activated skeleton in the hallway. So instead of a pumpkin, the quintessence ghoul was met with a ‘forgive me?’ pair of bat plushies, it was love at first sight. They’re named Barbie and Ken and, yes, they're dressed in pink cowboy costumes.

Time passed as Phantom eagerly awaited The Day. In the meantime he’d often be found wrapped up in toilet roll, launching himself out of the shadows at passers by, trying to scare human members of the clergy and failing miserably, “Why aren’t they scared by my costume, Mounty?” he’d pout. “Well, you do it every morning so I think they know to expect you by now.” Mountain  replies. This only inspires the mischievous ghoul to up his scare game, his dream career being a scarer at a haunted house after the pack took him to Halloween Horror Nights.

The next day Aether and Omega had their work cut out at the infirmary as three clergymen were admitted for various fright-related conditions. Phantom bat-hung from the ceiling, the corpse of a freshly-hunted rabbit in his bloodied mouth, canines poking out as he smiled at the passing humans.

Phantom was forbidden from wearing anything other than normal clothes or slutty costumes from that point onwards.

In the days leading up to Halloween, the pack were sent on a trip to gather themed food for the ministry, Frankenstein crisps, ghost marshmallows, and of course sweets for trick-or-treaters. They thought it would be funny to let Phantom loose in the supermarket with just a list, the poor ghoul only just having learned how to read. “What’s this say?” Phantom asked excitedly, gasping for air as he ran back outside to where his pack was waiting, “Gummy worms, darling, you know the ones?” Cumulus replied the first time. Phantom nodded his head, skipping back into the store, only to jog back out minutes later.

“What ‘bout this one, Aeth?” He questioned, pointing hurriedly at the list. “Can’t see when you’re waving your hand around like that, Bug!” The older ghoul chuckled, moving Phantom’s hand away, “Ah, this is a tricky one. It says choco-late eye-balls.” Aether answers slowly as his hand traces the syllables on the paper. “If you can’t read anything else, just buy something spoopy!” Swiss shouts as Phantom shoots him a death stare from the store entrance.

It took five times as long as it would have taken if the pack joined Phantom, but the little guy enjoyed it too much for them to intervene. The ministry was now fully stocked, ready for the end of October.

Phantom awoke at 3am, the witching hour. His quintessence was tingling with the spirits of those below, rising for their day to shine. Today was the day. He restlessly walked to the kitchen, ready to eat despite the hour, to be met with a very tired Mountain. “Bug, what are you doing up? I thought we taught you how to read clocks?” he asked, still awake from the previous day. “Is Halloween Mounty! I couldn’t sleep any longer, too excited!”

Mountain sighed, clearly Swiss hasn’t been teaching Phantom how to tell the date as well as the time, “Tommy, it’s only the 29th of October, Halloween isn’t for another two days.” He frowned, upset for the eager ghoul. Phantom’s eyes began to water, tears instantly falling at the realisation, embarrassed and dismayed.

“Oh it’s alright, Bug, we can celebrate today if you’d like? Think of it as a practice!” Mountain replied frantically trying to abate the weeping ghoul. He pulled out his phone and texted the groupchat:

Mountain (3:06am): Ok ghouls change of plans… we’re celebrating Halloween today. Be ready :)

Dew (3:07am): huh? halpoween isnt todsy tho

Cumulus (3:07am): Yeah, what? What have you been meddling with Big Boy?

Mountain (3:10am): Phantom thought it was Halloween today and now he’s crying because it isn’t. I can’t bear to look at him like that so I told him we’re doing it today ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mountain (3:10am): Not my fault btw! Someone (@Swisstopher) didn’t teach new bug how to read the date

Swiss (3:18am): …

Come sunrise, the pack was ready for the rootin-ist tootin-ist Halloween this side of October 31st. Mountain and Aether were dressed up as cowboys, basically an Arthur Morgan cosplay. Aurora wore Phantom’s devil costume with Rain still sporting the angel side. Dew and Cirrus were both zombies, full makeup (and a bit of unglamouring) making them look truly horrifying. Cumulus is wearing a sexy police outfit, because fuck the cops, right? And Swiss is shirtless, wearing a toilet seat cover with ‘Dracula’ written on it in sharpie, “I’m sexy dracula, OK?!”

Phantom was sitting on the edge of his bed, kicking his legs in excitement, ready to start the day. He was adorning a bat costume he made all by himself. It was a black cloth with eye holes cut out and some metal wire to make wings, Aether helped with that part.

They spent the day watching low-budget horror films and eating the Halloween goodies that they’d been saving for trick-or-treaters. Phantom was snuggled on the sofa right in the middle of the large ghoul cuddle pile, chirping happily as he realised how loved he was, his pack did this for him. They sat all day in their uncomfortable costumes just to give him the best not-Halloween ever, and it wasn’t even sundown yet.

Phantom sat by the front door, his tongue poked out as he tied his shoes, ready to go out. The whole pack was coming with him on his first candy hunt, except Dew, he’d gone on a smoke break and was taking so long they left without him.

Dew was, in fact, not on a smoke break. He was carefully knocking on the door of each house the pack was going to visit, “Hi! Yeah I know it’s not Halloween but my friend thinks it is, so could you just play along, please?” he asked, far too many times on behalf of what looked like a fully grown adult. Most of the houses complied, and the few that didn’t, well, Dew gave them a 20 and they quickly got on board. Nothing was going to ruin his Phantom’s night!

And so, one-by-one the occupants of the nearest village were met with a bedraggled Phantom in his homemade bat costume. “Trick or treat?” He’d shout, arms outstretched, holding a comically large bucket for the size of the ghoul offering it.

“Oh sweet thing, happy Halloween! I love your costume, did you make it yourself?” One old lady asked. Phantom nodded as he blushed and twirled to show off the wings. “Very impressive, young man. I think you deserve some chocolate for that, don’t you?” She smiled as she almost emptied a whole tub into Phantom’s bucket, his arms buckling at the weight.

The moon was illuminating the night sky, and the night was winding down. The young ghoul had long abandoned his candy bucket, simply too heavy for him to hold. They walked back to the abbey, Cumulus carrying the night’s haul while Swiss gave Phantom a piggyback, the quintessence ghoul’s legs sore from all the walking.

When they opened the front door, they were met with Copia in bat wings matching Phantom’s. He’d missed the day due to clergy commitments but wanted to show his support for his favourite ghoul. Copia guided them all to the common room where he’d decorated it as grotesquely as he could; bones everywhere, blood dripping from the ceiling, and various speakers playing spooky sounds.

Phantom plopped himself in the middle of the room, taking in the view and soundscape surrounding him as he ate the treats Cirrus left out for tonight, the rest stored safely away from the young ghoul. He couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to be in such a supportive pack. Oh boy was he ready for actual Halloween.

and they were roommates

[boysdontcryboycry]

so i just scoured all four seasons on UrnWatch leaping from @wheelercore's post(s) because This Shit Is Fascinating and the wheeler family keeps me up at night and i need answers anyway this one's a doozy

i might've missed a few because i was just going by memory and didn't rewatch the entire show, but these are the important ones for sure.

first is the golden urn that falls during the earthquake, which isn't actually golden! it only looks golden in that specific scene, presumably from all the bright, warm yellow lights in the room, but the timing of the change being exactly when the four gates converged is a little suspect. in every other appearance, the titular urn is a silvery black and fairly large.

the first appearance of The Urn is in 1.01, right behind mike and ted as he fiddles with the tv antennae, watching what we now know is possibly the next week's episode of knight rider, as mike asks for 20 more minutes to keep playing

next is when el is looking at the wheeler mantle photos in 1.02, and in 1.04 when karen and nancy argue about nancy lying to the cops about sleeping with steve

in season 2, it's visible in the 2.02 flashback when ted insists the wheelers' patriotism to the lab agents, and in 2.05 when karen yells for ted to answer dustin's incessant ringing of the doorbell

we don't spend much time at the wheeler residence in season 3, but it still is just barely visible behind nancy's head in 3.05 when nancy and karen joke about nancy's fighting spirit coming from ted

and in season 4, The Urn returns in full force, lurking behind mike for the sweetie pie scene in 4.01,

for a flash behind dustin in 4.07 as holly menacingly dodges him with her white rabbit lite-brite, and hiding behind the fridge and dustin's head as he starts to put together the pieces about watergate and vecna opening portals and also erica threatens to reveal lucas' secret,

again in 4.07 when dustin and lucas steal holly's white rabbit lite-brite,

and finally The urn shot in 4.09 as it tumbles from the mantle along with several family photos

we don't see it again for the rest of the season, the camera stubbornly avoiding its designated location as we get a new angle of ted in his chair, turning off the news and rejecting the societal hysteria as holly continues to built her white rabbit on her lite-brite, as karen tucks nancy's old rabbit toy into a donation box

and it's times like these i wish i used desktop because i'm limited to ten photos on mobile because let's just say there is a LOT going on with the wheelers and urns, and either karen just really likes collecting decorative urns or the wheeler extended family are dropping like flies. i hope i can reblog with more photos. hold please.

[la-galaxie-langblr]

Uni Diaries 13/01/25

Image description: two chocolate muffins in a brown paper bag.

Back at uni for my second semester!! My next two weeks are my exam season but I also want to try and take these weeks as an opportunity to get into the new routines and habits I want to have this year. I really liked keeping an online diary last semester so I'm going to continue it :D

Today I:

Woke up at 9 to do some last minute exam prep

Had my oral exam, it was decidedly mid, I've had worse exams but I've had way better exams, so who knows how it'll go 😬 that's a problem for future me though

Did my groceries and bought some sweet treats, including chocolate muffins for myself and my housemates!! There were originally 5 but they went very quickly hence the 2 in the photo slfnslfblsdb

Ate lunch and yapped with my housemate in the kitchen

Took a nap

Tutored

Said hello to one of my friends when she dropped by our house to pick up a parcel, it was the first time we've seen each other since Christmas so it was nice to catch up!! We hung out in the kitchen so I got to prepare, eat and clean up dinner at the same time as yapping

Watched an episode of Black Mirror with my housemate, we're slowly making our way through them, last night was the Black Museum episode and that'll haunt me for a while 💀 (as does White Rabbit)

Said I was going to go to bed but ended up chatting for 3 hours until 1am, my housemate and I laughed so hard that we cried 😭 the jokes weren't even that funny we were just really tired and a bit loopy

Daily joys:

As I was waiting outside the room for my exam, someone I had a class with last year left the room after her exam and she gave me a great pep talk which was so nice of her :)

Chocolate muffins are SO GOOD

Lidl had some great discount coupons this week so I was able to do my first big shop at a lower price than I expected

Lunches after a grocery shop hit different

My two tutoring pupils were pretty engaged which was great, it makes my job so much easier and the sessions more enjoyable for everyone :)

One thing I like about teaching mainly primary school aged kids is that if they do ask questions about my accent or my stutter, it's never mean spirited (or if it is they at least ask politely), I'm very aware that I'm probably the first Northern Irish accent or stutter that most of them have ever heard and idk it's kind of nice to create awareness for them :)

Friends <333333

Goals progress:

I'm dubbing my main 3 daily habits for this quarter The Usuals i.e. did I study French, did I do my Bible study and did I go outside? Today was ✅❌✅, with moving to uni I'm a bit behind on Bible study but that's alright, I can get up to date on the readings for my "Bible in 1 Year" devotional plan

[sublimeobservationarcade]

What Is Behind The Rise Of Support For Far Right Political Parties?

A little thing called the Internet. Social media platforms on smart phones and their algorithms are winding folk up. Most things you watch on your feeds are slanted toward generating outrage. Video makers want eyeballs on their product so they title them with words designed to shock. Click bait rules the online realm. It is a perfect storm of influences directing folk down the rabbit hole. You might start out exploring a topic and before you know it you are knee deep in bile. This is what is behind the rise of support for far right political parties.

SpaceX Demo-2 Preflight (NHQ202005270020) by NASA HQ PHOTO is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 2.0

Online Outrage Campaigns & Social Media

The political parties themselves want to attract your attention and support for their campaigns. They go looking for causes likely to drum up ill feeling toward scapegoats that society likes to blame. Perennial scapegoats like immigrants, gay people, and those groups who don’t fit in with the dominant cohort. Blaming others for our own problems acts like a safety valve to some degree. It is not an admirable thing by any means but has been around for a very long time. Political parties, especially those on the right, find the blame game to be a rich vein for their campaign strategists.

Blame It On The Immigrant & Other Minorities What is behind the rise of support for far right political parties? If there are problems in the economy they can be blamed on immigration – new arrivals taking the jobs off the rest of us. If it is the LGBTQI community, then, it is wasteful programmes taking our hard earned tax dollars.  A favourite target for right wing parties at the moment is trans people. Despite there being very few trans people relative to our tens of millions in population this emotive topic drums up the outrage of those who do not think that these people should exist at all. There are hardline religious groups against them and they are campaigning for their right to shun these outliers from their institutions. This is called religious freedom. The conservative parties are running campaigns which invite members of the socially dominant cohort – white folk in the main – to get behind policies designed to limit any special accommodations for groups like Indigenous peoples.

Right Wing Parties & The Blame Game What is behind the rise of support for far right political parties? It is popular now for white people who feel aggrieved at their own lack of success to blame this on the special treatment supposedly doled out to dark skinned people living on the fringes of our societies. This convenient catchcry allows these folk to duck responsibility for their own contribution to their own lack of material success. Sure, they might have dropped out of school and didn’t bother to study hard but that is not why they failed, it was somebody else’s fault. Yeah sure, they might drink too much and have a bad attitude, more generally, but that is not their fault. No, the far right welcome these, let’s not call them losers, these aggrieved human beings, and tells them that they have been robbed of opportunity by these Indigenous people’s getting an easy ride in life. Despite the fact that this is contradicted by the economic evidence of just who is further down the food chain, this downward envy plays well for right wing political parties.

Photo by Polina Zimmerman on Pexels.com Looking Out For Easy Answers To Complex Issues Too many people want easy answers to complex societal problems. Youth crime? Lock them up! The digital age is all about push button solutions. Convenience is king and if something is wrong in your life it must be this scapegoat at fault. No political party is going to tell folk it is their own responsibility. Pissing in pockets is about buttering up support by passing the buck onto a socially acceptable target. Invariably it will be weaker groups that cannot readily defend themselves. Soft targets like women used to be. Refugees are socially isolated and without economic muscle, which makes them low hanging fruit for suburban Australia. Trans people are somewhat in a similar position. Who can be the punching bag for suburban whites under pressure economically from their home loans and high interest rates? The right wing party will dial up a few ripe candidates. Youth crime? Adult crime, adult time. A catchy slogan to take to the election. Nobody seems to be asking the question why these kids are breaking the law. Too hard for a political party only interested in expediency. Channel 7 click bait on YouTube – youth crime porn for oldies. Some shocking misinformation on social media will kick things off. Lies about refugees. Lies about trans people. The Internet is full of this stuff. The blame game on steroids.

the fear monger! “Social media posts that promote outrage and sensationalism – which are often prioritised by current algorithms due to high engagement levels – can exacerbate societal divisions and decrease capacity to collaboratively address large-scale societal challenges, argue researchers Luke Thorburn, PhD researcher from the Department of Informatics, King’s College London, and Aviv Ovadya, an affiliate at Berkman Klein Center at Harvard University and visiting scholar at the Leverhulme Centre for the Future of Intelligence, University of Cambridge.” (https://www.kcl.ac.uk/news/new-approach-to-social-media-algorithms-could-counteract-destructive-polarisation#:~:text=Socialmediapoststhatpromote,ThorburnPhDresearcherfromthe) There are no easy answers folks. Youth crime is a community problem and that involves you and me. Why are these kids running amok? Could it be that their parents are locked up in gaol. Could it be a neglect issue? A racial issue? Oh no, of course not, Australia is not a racist nation. Right wing folk keep telling us that . Deny defend depose.   Robert Sudha Hamilton is the author of Money Matters: Navigating Credit, Debt & Financial Freedom. ©WordsForWeb

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[themovieblogonline]

Alright, FROMily, let’s dive in! twenty-eight episodes later, FROM Season 3, Episode 8, titled “Thresholds,” finally delivers on some long-awaited answers we’ve been begging for. But like any good mystery show, each answer just piles on more questions, turning the town’s secrets into a deeper rabbit hole than ever. This episode served up a full plate of family drama, dark history, and wild revelations, with just a dash of time travel to keep us all on our toes. Let’s break down everything that went down in this thrilling chapter. Boyd is officially our Dad of the Year. In a tense and heartfelt moment, he sneaks his daughter-in-law Fatima out to a shed to shield her from the town’s suspicious stares. “Boyd’s got that dad energy dialed up to 11, protecting his own even if it means keeping Fatima locked up in a shed!” Fatima confesses to experiencing fits of rage she can’t explain, which Boyd instantly relates to his own worm incident back in Season 2. Is she infected, or is it something deeper? Boyd doesn’t know, but his commitment to her safety is clear—even if it means hiding her away from the world, family recipe style! https://youtu.be/kkKd9hDLHv8 Julie’s Time-Bending Adventure Then, in a twist that no one saw coming, we see Julie time traveling. Not only does she go back to Season 2’s pivotal moment with Boyd and the rope, but she’s actually the one who threw it to him! That’s right—Julie’s time-travel adventure connects her to a web of secrets even she doesn’t fully understand. Her journey shows us the deep ties between the town’s creepy dungeon, the caves, and the mysterious Angkooey kids, but we’re left wondering just how far her powers (or curse) will go. Victor Spills the Tea on the Boy in White Victor finally unloads his backstory, spilling secrets like he’s been bottling them up for three seasons. The Angkooey kids, he explains, were “born in the dark and died in the dark,” supposedly at the hands of the people they loved most. Victor recounts Christopher’s failed attempts to save them and the power of the mythical Faraway Tree, all while dropping hints that even more dark history might be around the corner. But just when it seems clear, the show throws a curveball, revealing that the Boy in White—not Jasper—was the one talking all along. It’s the kind of retcon that’s bound to stir up some fan controversy. Elgin’s Role in the Mystery Elgin remains our resident enigma. His weird attachment to his Polaroid, which seems to predict blood-soaked futures, only fuels the mystery. But it’s his creepy demeanor around Fatima that sends this episode’s chill factor through the roof. Not only does he snap another photo, but he also somehow persuades Fatima to go underground. And when she hesitates, he drags her to the cellar himself! Elgin’s growing influence over the town’s happenings could spell danger, and as the credits roll, we’re left wondering what dark secrets he’ll uncover next. Final Thoughts In “Thresholds,” FROM really leans into the mind-bending mystery it does best, finally answering some long-standing questions while sending us down even stranger paths. Boyd’s storyline had its heartfelt moments, Julie’s time-travel shocker is sure to stir up theories, and Victor’s backstory opens the door to a new level of intrigue in the town’s history. The time travel twist raises as many questions as it answers, but if there’s one thing fans know about this show, it’s that patience (and maybe a flowchart) is required. And with only a few episodes left, we’re all strapped in for the wild ride ahead. Read the full article

[harunovella]

but baby i've already got your heart ; s.g.

synopsis: professor gojo was loved by all, a well rounded man with a bright smile and a personality students and staff swooned over... however, he holds a dark secret that comes out in the late hours of the night—or sometimes, in the shadows during the day—the feared ghost face. his next victim? his most beloved student: you.

cw: fem!reader, professor!gojo/ghost face!gojo, student!reader/victim!reader, yandere!gojo, obsession/manipulation, mentions of blood/murder (nothing too detailed, stalker!gojo, oblivious!reader (but... is she, really?), fingering (public indecency), unprotected sex, creampie/squirting, cock warming, possessiveness, dub con!, stealing/breaking and entering, non con photos (?), panty snatching/sniffing, threats, mentions of somnophilia but nothing happens, gojo is a straight up perv and has major red flags but the ladies love him anyway!, plot twist, MDNI 18+ PLEASE! (sorry if I miss any)

wc: 7k+

an: this was sm fun to write, I love ghost face and i love gojo... it's october so why not put them together?! anyway, here's to my first ever gojo fic! i love this man sm, I hope you all enjoy! title inspo...

Satoru Gojo was obsessed. At least, obsessed felt like an understatement. What he felt for you, deep within his damned soul, was a sensation unlike any other. Sure, he's had his fair share of pretty things to fawn over in an unhealthy manner... but you, you were something else. Something ethereal. A being unlike any other. He didn't know why, nor did he know how or when it struck him... maybe it was the moment he met eyes with you for the very first time, but the urge to keep you was overwhelming.

His cute, little assistant. His beloved (and favorite) student. He knew every little detail about you. The amount of classes you took, your extracurricular activities. Where you graduated from high school. Your grades, your GPA, the people you were friends with. Your favorite color, the shampoo and conditioner you used. Every bit of information, even where you lived. After all, an obsession with a new target wasn't uncommon for a man who hid behind a Ghost Face mask while committing mass murder.

Professor Satoru Gojo, the highly demanded teacher who used his good looks to his advantage, lived a double life. He was well known amongst the university folks. Professors and staff alike either envied or loved him. Students fawned over him, doing everything and anything in their power to get his attention. No matter what it took: playing dumb, dressing skimpy, batting their eyelashes... Of course Satoru knew what power he held, it was one of his many great tools to help him become the best at what he did. No one suspected him—the handsome man with snow white hair and crystal blue eyes—to be a psycho serial killer. Of course not, he was just so sweet and social. Much too loved for anyone to point fingers at him.

And like everyone before you—his victims—you fell into his trap. You fell for his kind words and suave actions. His gentle praises and soft touches. From the moment you first stepped foot into his classroom, with your baby blue tank top tucked into your white, tennis skirt... the matching cardigan and bright white sneakers, you truly were a rabbit in a wolf's den. It was impossible for him not to set his target on you, making you his next casualty. From the second you sat down at your desk to the moment he found out you were going to be his T.A., he knew he had to have you.

Satoru didn't spare a second in scheming. Plotting how to sugar you up, get you to drop your guard and to fall so easily into his knife—literally and metaphorically. It wasn't like he wanted to kill you, not yet, he just wanted to have fun. And you really looked like a good time with that lip gloss you wore and that sweet perfume you always sprayed on your neck and wrists—a scent that heightened his obsession.

His first week around you was getting to know you in the most subtle ways, casually asking you about your major and your schedule—for T.A. purposes, of course. That's how he learned your favorite study spot was under a specific tree in the open courtyard near the campus forest. How you hung out at the local cafe in the mornings with your best friends. He managed to learn your schedule so easily. You were such an open book to him, it must have been his pretty eyes that had you in a trance.

And that's how he spent his free time, lurking in the shadows in his beloved Ghost Face attire. His white mask, black hoodie and jeans, tied up boots and gloves. His lanky figure so easily hid behind the mass amount of towering trees on the campus.

Like how he was now, lurking behind the bushes and shrubbery, watching as you stood with your best friend—Nobara Kugisaki. As you were studying psychology, she was studying fashion but the two of you met in your shared photography class freshman year. (Yes, he knew every little detail even about how you made friends.)

The two of you were laughing, standing before one another as you held onto your notebook while Nobara was showing you something on her phone. The sound was music to his ears, a grin grew on his lips from behind his howling mask. Sure, he should have been grading mid-term exams, but how could he when his little assistant wasn't there to help? He knew you had a set schedule in which you followed, but that didn't mean you couldn't offer him some help on your free time. Instead of giggling over dumb videos, you should've been sat with him in his office, close enough for him to smell your intoxicating scent. Close enough for him to see the way your breasts pressed together when you were bent forward to review some of the papers you were helping grade. Close enough for him to feel your breath fanning his cheek.

Close enough for him to yank you down to your knees, unbuckle his belt and undo his pants so he could reach in and pull out his—

Loud laughter caused him to slip past the trees and away from the spot where he stalked. It was foolish of him to get dressed up and hide just to watch you in the middle of the day while the sun was out... but he couldn't help himself! Every second away from you was agonizing. He needed you there beside or even before him. There, so he knew no one else was getting in his way.

After all, he may have something to do with the disappearances of a few frat boys and other psychology majors... But no one needed to know that Ghost Face was behind that. Sure, the entity loved the attention—that's what everyone claimed whenever a corpse was found with a polaroid photo of Ghost Face and said victim was on the scene—but not when it could possibly lead back to him. He was very careful. Clean and cautious. Even with his brutal attacks and stabs, he never allowed himself to get carried away.

"So how's it been working alongside professor Gojo?" Nobara asked you as the two of you walked along one another. "You've made a lot of enemies out of that, y'know," she teased with a small snicker. "So many people want to be in your shoes. Everyone has a crush on him. Makes me wonder if you think he's hot?"

Bitting your inner cheek as you smiled, you then shook your head, "he's my supervisor and professor. But... I mean, I'm not blind. He's a very good looking man."

"Very good looking?" Nobara tilted her head.

"Okay, hot!" You laughed. "I mean, I work so close to him, I see and smell it all. Like, he dresses and smells so expensive... for a professor, even."

"Well, he is from the Gojo clan. One of the wealthiest families in all of Japan. Couldn't expect any less from a man like him. He, himself, looks pricey. As if he wasn't birthed but carefully crafted by all of the world's greatest fashion designers," Nobara waved a hand, earning another laugh from you.

For a bit longer you continued to talk, giggling about Gojo and then moving onto gossip Nobara had learned about within the few hours you've been on campus. After a while, you called it a day as you had to meet up with Gojo, telling Nobara you'd see her later, gaining the response of if you fuck him, Yuji owes me $100. This earned a gasp from you, but before you could even get a word out, Nobara rushed off.

"My favorite student!" Gojo exclaimed as you had walked into his office, greeting him with a kind smile and a small brown bag in your grip that you dangled. "Always feeding my sweet tooth," he beamed, taking the bag from you as you took your usual seat across from him, settling your bag down on the chair beside you. "Mochi from my beloved mochi," he happily sighed as he nearly swallowed the treats whole.

"Do I have to lecture you again about chewing your food?" You shook your head as you took the paper work from him that he had yet to touch. You knew the man very well, always keeping assignments stacked, whining about how he'd eventually get them done, only for you to complete them. "I swear, it's like your a child, Mr. Gojo."

"My little mochi cares about me," he batted his lashes from behind his silver rimmed glasses. You were used to the man wearing sunglasses indoors just as you were used to him calling you by treat names rather than your actual one. At one point you assumed he had forgotten your real name, but he easily proved you wrong... then proceeded to call you his little dango. "I won't die on you. Not by choking, that's for sure. How embarrassing," he scoffed before lifting his insanely long legs on his desk, crossing them at the ankle as he watched you work.

Moments like these where you were so focused and immersed in your grading, he took the opportunity to stare at you. You, being the oh so oblivious beauty you were, never called it out. Maybe you were used to it, maybe it was his sunglasses, but he was so obvious with the way he undressed you with his eyes. He wasn't even trying to hide it. The way he spotted your cleavage from your blouse, how your collarbones were just as exposed. The expanse of your neck... He found himself licking his lips then biting his tongue. Oh, how he'd love to sink his teeth into your body... just as much as he'd love to plunge a knife in you.

Well, maybe not that... maybe not yet... You were so youthful, so full of life. So dedicated to your schooling and friends. So loyal to him. Though, he tsked at your taste in men and may have paid a few a nice visit in the middle of the night... after all you belonged to him and only him.

"So I graded your midterm," he sang as you hummed back in response, eyes still glued on the assignments before you. "I am very proud of you, my little jelly bean."

"Is that so?" You smiled, still keeping your attention low, earning an annoyed eye roll from Gojo that you were unaware of.

"Yes," he breathed before lowering his feet and sitting properly at his desk. "I want to treat you," Gojo smirked. That got your attention.

"Oh, no. You shouldn't," you shook your head as you now eyed the frosted haired man before you.

"Oh... I should," he grinned. His pearly whites on display as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, exposing his sky blue eyes. "C'mon. I'm inviting you to dinner tonight to celebrate! You can't turn down you favorite, good looking, professor: Satoru Gojo!"

Smiling, you let out a small chuckle, "okay, fine! Let's go to dinner."

And that you did. Gojo had made you hurry up grading, giving you a time frame as he walked around his office and rearranged his shelves impatiently. You couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes at him, beyond used to his antics at this point after weeks of working so close to him. Once you were finished, Gojo so easily dragged you out of his space, away from the building it was situated in, and over to where his car was parked. He hadn't told you exactly where he had in mind, but when you arrived, you felt so underdressed. Of course, he reassured you with the good ol' no one denies a Gojo.

Dinner went smoothly, you had gone out a few times with him but strictly for lunch. You tried not seeing it any differently... even if the blue skies were replaced by endless stars.

"See? Wasn't so bad," Gojo smiled as the two of you stood in front of your apartment door. "I paid for the greatest dinner—and wine—you've ever had in your lifetime and I gave you a free ride home!" He gestured to your door as you shook your head.

"Mind you, you invited me and then insisted to take me home," you reminded as Gojo shrugged. "Thank you for dinner and the ride, get home safe, Mr. Gojo. I know you can take care of yourself, but, I wouldn't want to lose someone like you with what's going on."

Those words really did him wonders. The pang in his chest? How his heart fluttered? The way his face dropped for a split second just to pick back up that sneaky grin... You truly were worth keeping around for a bit. With those sweet words and that gorgeous face of yours... he couldn't dispose of you. Not yet. He needed you badly. And, luckily, you just lead the big bad wolf to your front door. "Good night, my sweet cinnamon bun."

"Good night, professor," you chuckled before unlocking your door, walking in, and shutting it behind you.

Standing there with his hands deep in his pockets, he eyed his surroundings before squatting. Lifting your welcome mat, searching the twin pots that sat parallel to your front door, he then found your spare key hidden within the soil. "Oh, sweetheart... you're too easy..."

After a nice shower, changing into your cozy pajamas and drinking a nice cup of sleepy-time tea, you found yourself deep into your slumber. You were quite exhausted from the school day, Gojo also knew how to drain the energy from you with his excitement and never ending flow of words that spilled out of his mouth. But, you didn't mind, he was a kind man and he kept you entertained.

Grateful for his light footsteps for such a lanky body, Gojo pulled your door shut behind him as he eyed his surroundings. Like the genius murder he was, he made a copy of your spare care before placing the original back. Then, snatched his hidden items, pulled on his all black ensemble and mask, and made his way back to your home. He had hoped you would've invited him in earlier, but maybe you had enough of him for the day... or you were being cautious since he was your supervisor and it wouldn't be wise to have him in your personal living space.

Whatever, he thought. He used the moonlight to help guide him around your home. Eyeing the set up, remembering all the windows and the balcony. Keeping track of where he could and couldn't slip through by checking weak locks. He then eyed your belongings. The photos and art you kept around. Wasn't a whole lot, but they were there.

Quietly checking doors, finding a closet and bathroom, he then spotted your bedroom. The door was closed, much to his dismay. He had hoped you were asleep, not wanting to make his presence known just yet. Sighing, he slowly, and quietly twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Perfect, he grinned from behind his mask. You were dead asleep, resting on your side as you were curled up into a ball. Cute. Taking out his phone, he snapped a few shots of you sleeping. Up close and from afar, getting sight of your bedroom, too.

Taking a step back, he eyed his surroundings before gently pulling drawers open and pushing them closed. A section for pajamas, folded t-shirts, gym wear... your panties... His grin grew bigger as he rustled through it, spotting your lace numbers and thongs. It made him wonder what you had worn that night. Quietly closing the drawer and turning on his heel, he went over to your hamper and pushed pieces of clothing to a side, only to find a little black number.

Sniffing it before stuffing it into his pocket, he decided to call it a night.

That one would be the first of many.

Days of breaking in turned into weeks. Gojo was strategic about it, coming in at the late hours he knew you were asleep. And if you were out? He was hurt. However, it didn't stop him from stealing more of your items and rearranging others. He wanted to test you, see if you would pick up on the changes. You may be a bit oblivious, but you were a smart girl. He was too good at what he did, maybe that's why you never noticed... or maybe you had? He wouldn't know. It wasn't like you'd confide in your beloved professor about little things like that, would you?

Maybe it was time he made his presence known. After all, he had enough of playing with his food.

The sound of something toppling over made you jolt in your sleep. Usually, you were a heavy sleeper, but after noticing little things around your home being moved—like your jewelry or your framed photos—you had been a bit on edge lately. You had told Nobara about it, but she said it probably was a ghost that's haunting your place. You weren't really a believer, but you also weren't a non-believer.

However, you hated how Nobara wasn't wrong. It wasn't an actual, supernatural being. Not a legit ghost that was of an entity lurking... no, more like, a living being hiding behind a ghost mask.

You had gone to check on what had fallen, searching your little apartment to see nothing was out of place. A sense of relief had washed over you, more than ready to go back to bed... but the ghost thought otherwise.

An arm wrapped around your waist as a hand covered your mouth and more. It was large, just enough to block your nose, too, if they wanted. You instantly panicked, thrashed around and tried to free yourself, but the person before you was much too strong and instead pushed you onto your bed before aiming a hunting knife at your throat. "Now, now, I wouldn't cause a ruckus if I were you, sweetheart."

Gulping at the towering figure before you dressed in all black, a howling mask covering their face, you clutched onto your bedsheets as you tried to stay still. Your heart was racing and tears filled your eyes. You could kick him, maybe try and use something you learned in self defense classes... but the knife at your neck and the mask before you had you too stunned.

"You're so pretty, I couldn't kill ya..." he sighed through the voice modulator. "But a little prick..." piercing your skin lightly as a dribble of blood pooled up, the intruder watched you wince with a chuckle. "Hmm... that should do it for me for now..."

"I— I don't have much but you— you can take my money or— or my jewelry—"

"Nah, I don't want any of that shit," he waved a hand nonchalantly before he swiftly leaned into you, causing you to gasp at the sudden action. "I'm not superficial. I have my eyes on something else instead..."

Watching as he leaned his face into your neck as he took in a rather loud inhale, sniffing your scent, you shivered once again as you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. "Take whatever, please, just leave... leave me alone..."

Snickering as he pulled his head away, Ghost Face sighed as he was pressing one knee in between your legs. "Can't do that... don't wanna disturb the peace too much, y'know?"

Opening your eyes, you furrowed your brows. "Wh— What?"

"Well, I can't take what I want because, well... you live here and I don't wanna kidnap you or anything. That's no fun," he shook his head as you blinked, gulping at his words. He wanted... you? But why?!

"Me? No— Why? Why do you want me?" You shook your head, crawling back, only for him to catch your ankle and drag you back, mask nearly pressing into your face as you flinched.

"You're just so... perfect," he grinned—you knew he did from within the mask. "I'll see you around, cutie." Patting your cheek a bit too roughly with his leather glove covered hand, the intruder slipped away, deep into the shadows and disappeared from your sight.

It was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It was a dream. It was something your mind conjured. That's what you told yourself the days that followed that night. You were shaken up but told no one. You weren't sure if it had been true or not. It could've been some sort of sleep paralysis. A vivid dream? In reality, you couldn't even remember much... it was far too blurry, it was late into the night, maybe you hallucinated.

You carried on with life, not letting whatever that was stop you. You'd have to do some research. You were a psych major, there had to be something out there. Being a good student and an assistant was your top priority, whatever the hell that was, you would put it in the back seat. You didn't need to ponder too much on it... even if... you felt like you were constantly being watched.

"Hey, KitKat, you've been out of it lately. You're not all there during my lectures or, well... now," Gojo frowned as he leaned over you from behind.

You were seated at his desk, aimlessly staring as you weren't even bothering with the assignments before you. You felt his presence behind you as he had bent at the hip, head coming into view beside you. "Sorry... it's just..." sighing, you rubbed your face. "I don't know, I feel like I'm being watched. Maybe I'm paranoid... Maybe I watch too many scary movies before bed," you awkwardly chuckled as you turned your head to look at him.

"Let me take you out to dinner to get your mind off of things," he said, standing up straight with his hands buried in his slacks. "Food is always a good pick me up. I can also take us out to get ice cream!" He beamed as you softly smiled.

"I appreciate it—"

"No buts!" He lifted a finger. "Dinner, dessert... and a movie! Yes, I know there's a new movie I've been dying to see," Gojo said with a nod, already planning the evening. "I won't be taking a no for an answer, biscuit."

Sighing, you settled your work down. "Okay..."

"It'll be so worth it, trust me," he winked before pushing his sunglasses back. "You'll have the best night ever."

Gojo wasn't lying when he uttered those words to you with such promise and excitement. Yet again, he took you to a restaurant where the food made your taste buds explode from the feast. Everything was delicious and more, almost enough to keep your mind busy. Almost. You were still a bit on edge, your little sporadic smiles fading away every time your mind wandered off and looked blankly out the window.

However, being at the movie theater was different. There really wasn't anywhere to look out at and think so deeply, nor was there time to ponder over was it real or not when you were alone with your supervisor. When you were alone with the Satoru Gojo.

He knew what he was doing. He started off with gentle caresses to your exposed knee. Comforting touches to keep your mind at ease—or, probably not. Not with what he had in mind. He knew he was the cause of your paranoia, but boy if it wasn't fun toying with your emotions. Being the one to break you down and build you up. It made his blood rush straight to his now semi-hard cock.

You didn't stop the feather-like touches from their movements up your thigh. A part of you knew it was wrong, but a bigger part of you was begging for anything to keep your mind busy. The movie wasn't enough, though it was quite the comedy, you still needed more to keep your mind... well, empty. If that was what was going to help you.

Placing your hand on his as you inched it closer to your heat, you felt his eyes on you within the darkness of the theater before you turned your focus. Meeting his, you leaned over and closed the gap separating you two. You weren't so sure what possessed you, what made you so bold, but you were desperate. Needy for anything. Anything to help you forget.

Your subtle kiss of gentle pecks turned into tongues meeting and breaths fanning. You guided his fingers higher before you removed your hand to let him do the rest. Reaching over to clutch the back of his neck as you felt his long fingers slip under you panties, you scooted closer and parted your knees further.

He couldn't stop smiling. God, this was what he was aching for for so long. To finally taste your lips, to feel your drenched pussy against his fingertips. All because you needed to forget about his alter ego. He wondered, would you have done this with another man if he wasn't around? He didn't like the thought. All you needed was him and only him. No other man could satisfy you like he could. After all, he was the one who lead you to this point and he was going to go all the way. Fuck with your mind just like he knew he was going to fuck your tight pussy.

Your breathing quickened as you felt his long fingers tease you, his middle pushing into your hole as you hooked your leg over his to feel more. Gojo used his free hand to hold your jaw as his tongue licked into your mouth. Every chance he got to pull away, your saliva would keep you two connected before snapping and staining your chin. And every time he pulled away, he was always so quick to push his tongue back in—just like his fingers. Two of them now fucking in and out of you.

There was no point in watching the movie anymore, your entertainment was Gojo's tongue and skilled fingers. Maybe it was working, after all, your brain was slowly turning into mush as you felt yourself climaxing.

It didn't take long for you to move it to your bedroom. You left the movie before it ended, rushing to his car as he brought you home. You tugged him in by the collar of his shirt as you brought his lips to yours once again. A trail of clothes lead to your bed as Gojo found himself fully naked before your own nude body. He so eagerly ate your pussy like it was his last meal, lapping up your juices and fucking your hole with his tongue, explicit moans leaving both of you. Your thighs were covered up in bites and bruises, and your hips would soon be covered in his fingertips aftermath.

"I told you you'd have the best night ever," Gojo breathed as he thrusted deeply into you, his tip kissing your cervix with every languid movement of his hips. He smiled down at you, white locks hanging over his eyes as his cheshire cat grin was all you could see. A hint of his hungry, lustful eyes peeking through his bangs as he held onto the back of your knees. "Aren't I the best professor? I truly care for my favorite student, hmm? I give her the best one-on-one session..." he breathed.

Clutching onto your bed sheets as sweat clung to your body while moans left your parted lips, you couldn't form coherent sentences. "Mmh... Best... Best— Oh, Mr. Gojo—"

"Please," he shook his head before leaning in, lips hovering yours as he continued to fuck into you deeply, "call me Satoru."

"Satoru," you cried as your eyes squeezed shut the moment you felt his finger rubbing your sensitive clit. "Please— I'm gonna— Oh— There!" You whined as he continued his ministrations, grinning at the sight of you coming undone for a third time before him. You were practically drooling, hair in disarray, skirt flipped over your stomach, panties shoved in the back pocket of his slacks, blouse and bra long gone to leave your bouncing breasts on display—one of his many canvases covered in his bites.

He should've been gentle with you, sure, but he did promise you the best night... and what was love making going to do for you when raw fucking was going to make you go completely brainless?

You had never come like that in your life. You stained your sheets and your essence was all over Satoru's skin. He had never been prouder to fuck you so good you soaked him, too. He just wished it was all over his face instead... He'll get there eventually. Maybe a certain homicidal maniac should pay you a visit soon for some fun?

"'m gonna fill you up so good, 'kay? Make you my very own sweet treat with my seed spilling out of you, mhm? God, the most exquisite little thing ever," he breathed as he felt his abdomen tighten, his grip on you tightening to the point you whimpered as he came. It was almost endless, he fucked you slowly, ropes and ropes filling you up before Gojo let go of your legs and nearly collapsed on top of you. He stayed inside of you, even when he went soft. He couldn't seem to pull out, the feeling of being buried within you was much too wonderful to remove himself from. "You feeling better?" He breathed against your ear before biting on the soft skin below it.

"Mhm..." you hummed with a weak nod and hooded eyes, unable to keep them open. "So... so much... better..." you breathed, eyes falling closed as Gojo sat up enough to eye you, giving your lips a small kiss before sucking on your bottom lip, then pulling away.

"My pretty, little, peach," he smiled, kissing your chin and neck, slowly pulling out as a small whimper left you. Leaning back to watch his fill leak out of you, Gojo swiped up and pushed in as much as he could before pressing the rest on your tongue—in which you lazily lapped up with closed eyes.

You were exhausted, completely spent and full of him. He was filled with a sense of pride. His favorite muse all covered in him. His kisses, his bites, his saliva and anything in between. You were all his. Finally.

Eyeing your now resting figure as you so easily passed out, Gojo quietly stood up and cleaned himself up before he so kindly wiped you up—not after snapping a few photos of your leaking hole, bruised skin, and swollen lips (featuring your tear stained cheeks!) with his phone. Proud of his work, he fixed himself, zipped up his pants and readjusted his shirt. Staring at you for a bit, a sigh of defeat left him as he pulled off your skirt and tossed it to a side before slipping under your bedsheets with you.

He could go for a round two and fuck your sleeping body—he was sure you wouldn't mind—but he had exhausted you as it was. He was feeling generous. So, he stayed rested with you for a bit as you curled into him. He watched you sleep for what felt like hours before he left a few kisses on your lips and slipped away.

Leaving a note on your nightstand, caressing your face and stealing one last kiss, Gojo left your apartment satisfied and satiated.

For now.

The two of you acted like nothing happened. At least, out in the open. When you were attending his lectures or greeting one another in public, you kept things civil—like how they were before. To say you were nervous or embarrassed at first was an understatement. You were worried. Afraid you crossed the line... however... the very next day when you were back on campus said otherwise. And every day after that when you found yourself with your legs spread, pussy bare and getting absolutely devoured by Gojo at his desk in his office. Of course, it was a two way street. You made sure his aching length got equal attention from your small mouth and tight throat, letting him fuck your face and come all over it.

There were plenty of instances where his seed dripped down your cheeks or leaked out of your mouth. Just like there were many times where Gojo's lips glistened with your juices.

It had been so long. At least it felt like it. Maybe Gojo and your classes really kept your mind busy you had nearly forgotten about him. Your unfriendly, neighborhood, stalker. Murderer. Homicidal maniac. You name it.

You didn't dream it. You didn't hallucinate it. He was very much real and he was very much standing before you in your tiny living room. "Little kitten has claws," Ghost Face said as you stood your ground, clutching a kitchen knife. "Oh, baby... I missed you."

"I didn't miss you," you nearly whispered, trembling in your spot.

"But... didn't you? I'm sure you thought about me every single day. The big bad man who breaks into your home, lurks in the shadows... steals your panties," those words instantly made you flustered as your eyes widened. He took a mental note of that. "Oh, yeah, your missing panties? All belong to me know. You know, you've got a lovely scent. I can only imagine how that pussy tastes—"

"Stay back!" You exclaimed, lifting the knife, but the masked murderer laughed.

"Oh, Bambi, I know you have a very creative mind. Haven't you been curious about me? Haven't you imagined what it's like to get fucked by a murderer? Plenty of women fantasize about it. It's a common role play," he said with a nod as you bit your tongue. "Here, we can act it out! I promise, if you go along, you won't die tonight," he said as he lifted a gloved hand, lifting his index finger as he inched closer to you.

"You're— You're insane," you shook your head.

"I'm very well aware of that," he shrugged. "But, is it insane to want to stay alive? C'mon, that tight, little pussy wants to get wrecked by my fat cock. Just say the words," he sung as you shook your head. "Don't be such a fucking brat." Lunging forward as you gasped, he knocked the knife out of your grip before tugging your head back by your hair. Lifting his mask just enough, his lips crashed onto yours. A hint of mint lingering as his tongue dove into your mouth, feeling your walls and tasting you. You squirmed, tried to put up a fight and push him away, but he was much too strong.

Suddenly, a hiss left you as the tip of his knife made contact with your cheek. A small slice followed by his wet tongue licking away your droplets of blood made you shiver.

"Mmm," he hummed as he lowered his mask and let go of your hair before slumping forward. "Your mouth and blood, wow!" He nodded before lifting his index and thumb to form an okay with them. "So, what's your answer? Gonna let me fuck you raw? Gonna live for another day? I think it's an easy yes, hmm? Nothin' like a good ol' dickin' down to get you through the night. So easy."

"I am not... going to die... by your filthy hands," you breathed with the cutest mean face you could muster.

God, you were a keeper. "Then... I guess fucking it is!" He cheered as you winced.

That's how you found yourself underneath a masked man with his dick drilling into your poor pussy. You reminded yourself why you were there, why you would... agree? to this. He fucked into you like a jack hammer, fully clothed and enjoying the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so.

You kept your eyes focused elsewhere, trying to imagine it as anyone else, as someone you actually wanted. Like Gojo. But... you'd be lying if you said... it didn't feel good. The way his hips gyrated and rocked. How his cock pounded into you in an unholy manner. How the mystery of the man behind the mask somehow enticed you.

It was wrong, so wrong. You hated this. You did. You didn't want this. You didn't want this. But why... why did it feel so good?

Before you could reach your climax, the mystery man slotted his face in between your legs, lifting his mask enough to lick and fuck your pussy. His teeth making you shiver, his tongue thrusting and tasting your wetness. How he nearly bit your clit as you shrieked. He shifted between his fingers and tongue, overstimulating you and your sensitive nub as you clung onto your pillow. He chased your orgasm with a menacing snicker against your slick folds, enticing your release, fucking your hole so hard that you'd squirt all over him—just as he wanted.

The pants that left your body, the heavy breaths and the discomfort—yet relief—you felt were all consuming as the man stayed between your thighs. He was in the midst of licking his lips and lapping up whatever else he could from your orgasm, too focused on being drunk off of your pussy to even realize you were reaching towards him.

Reaching for his mask and just about to snatch it off, Ghost Face was quick to catch on. Moving away from you and reaching for the knife he had sheathed while fixing his mask, he gripped the hilt and aimed it at your heart as his voice boomed, "don't you fucking try that again or I'll fucking gut you like a fish, got that, whore?!"

Nodding profusely as tears so easily streamed down your face, the man stood from your bed and fixed his pants before sheathing his knife once again, watching you tremble and cry as you cowered away.

He was livid, beyond furious. He let his guard down and you almost revealed him? You were asking to get your throat slit.

He had to be careful around you.

He didn't want to kill you, not you, you were too fun. He was growing attached. So he slipped out of your home like a ghost once again and left you there to sob. The kill count for that evening would be the highest, the news would spread in the morning and you'd feel the guilt of the innocent lives taken on your shoulders.

"Can you stay the night...?" You shyly asked Gojo as he had come over on one of the sporadic nights you two would meet in secret. "I know you shouldn't but with a serial killer on the loose and going on a rampage as of late—"

"No need to explain," he said as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head as he did so. "I know it hasn't been easy for everyone. I wouldn't let anything happen to you, doughnut."

Giving him a weak smile, you nuzzled his chest. Your empty takeout containers sat at your coffee table as an old movie from a few decades back played on your TV. "Thank you, Satoru."

"Anything for you," he sweetly spoke as you looked up at him. Those mesmerizing eyes and those dazzling teeth... He was so handsome it truly hurt.

Leaning up to kiss him, you moved a leg over his lap to straddle him. The blanket you two shared fell over as you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Your tongue meeting his as his large hands gripped your ass and massaged the weight in his palms.

Running your fingers through his hair before sliding them down his neck, you unbuttoned his dress shirt further than it already was, slipping your hands beneath the cotton fabric. Feeling his toned chest and warm skin, you brought your lips down his throat, leaving a trail of red blotches along the way to his pecks, hearing his breathing increase.

Your hands found their way to the bulge protruding from his black slacks, massaging his trapped length with your palm as Gojo slid his own hand between your thighs. He could feel the wetness the pooled on your panties, teasing your aching cunt through the thin material as you began to rock your hips against him.

Quiet pleads left either of you as you undid his belt and zipper, pulling out his length as you began to pump his leaking cock with your tiny fist. Gojo pulled your panties down before letting them snap into place as you yelped. Dipping his hand into the thong you wore, he slid his fingers along your wetness, moaning at both your touch and the slick between his fingers.

Pulling his hand out as he sucked on his index and middle, you watched him with hungry eyes, whining and begging him to fuck you with them. Without hesitation, he slid his hand back in, fucking your pussy with little resistance as you jerked him off.

Pumping each other as you both moaned and hissed at the sensation at an incoming orgasm, the two of you pressed your foreheads together as you chased your mutual releases, coming into each others palms with heavy breaths. You watched as he licked his fingers clean once again, groaning at your taste before you leaned down to give his head kitten licks, teasing him before standing to your feet and tugging him with you to your bed.

"I've got an idea..." you said in a rather sultry voice, giving Gojo a wink before you pushed him onto your bed. Tugging off his pants and removing his shirt, you got him down to nothing but bare skin as you then reached into your nightstand and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Oh?" Gojo arched an eyebrow as you bit your bottom lip. "What do you have in mind?"

"I just... wanna try something with you..." you batted your lashes, playing innocent. "I wanna cuff you to my bed and fuck you... please?"

Eyeing you as his heart raced and cock twitched, he grinned, "I can't deny my sweet girl..."

Smiling happily, you straddled him and cuffed his wrists, then leaned in to whisper in his ear, "maybe I'll let you eat my pussy, too."

"Fuck, I'd love nothing more for you to ride my face," he breathed, watching you giggle as you pulled away from him.

"Okay, I've got another surprise," you nodded. "Close your eyes for me, 'toru."

Closing his eyes with an eager grin, excited for what else you had in store, Gojo felt his insides twist from anticipation. "You've got me feeling like I'm about to get the greatest treat."

"Oh, you will... You'll get your just desserts."

Furrowing his eyebrows, he opened his eyebrows, "huh?"

"Look familiar?" You tilted your head, holding up a mask in one and and a knife in the other. Not just any mask and knife—a Ghost Face mask and a hunting knife. His mask. His knife. "Oh, it does, doesn't it?"

"What— What the fuck—"

Seeing the look of pure shock on Gojo's face, you shook your head. "Don't play dumb," leaning in, you aimed his knife at his throat. "Didn't think I'd know? You always think you're ten steps ahead. Smarter than everyone. But, even you, the worlds smartest serial killer, have your own slip ups."

"Baby, angel, sweetheart— I— I have no idea what you're talking about!" He panicked, shaking his head and tugging at the cuffs that kept him tied down. "Please! What— What're you—"

Pricking the skin on his neck—just like he did to you—you then brought the knife to his cheek and pressed against the skin before sliding down. "How does it feel to be on the other side?"

"I— I don't know what the hell you're talking about?! You're freaking me—"

"Great," you sighed. "I guess I'll have to paint the picture for you."

It was 6 months ago. You remembered it so easily. You were working on your final assignment for your Intro to Photography class—one you shared with your best friend, Nobara, as to get some electives out of the way. You loved nighttime photos, always finding them to be your best. At the park, the beach, abandoned malls and late nights at supermarkets. Then you tried your campus, knowing the university grounds had some nice landscapes and views.

You didn't expect to see much action. Students had late classes but not that late. You had showed up ten till midnight, wanting some good photos of the moon and pretty reflections off of surfaces. Truly, you were just going to snap some photos and call it a night. Security was around, you weren't too scared of being alone.

However, you weren't really alone.

It must've been the wrong place at the wrong time. You had seen it, the lanky man in the distance. He didn't notice you as you were crouched behind bushes, getting photos of the courtyard. Your camera had zoomed in on him. The tall figure dressed in all black, almost in a rush. He carried something in his grip, you weren't sure.

So you followed.

You quietly kept your distance when you realized who it was. Professor Gojo. Why had he been there so late? What was he doing? Stopping behind a tree as you watched him enter the building, you spotted the light of an office space turn on as you zoomed in again. You watched as he shut his door behind him, the crack in his blinds giving you enough to see. He unlocked a drawer and slid it open before lifting a mask and a... bloody knife?

Your heart skipped a beat.

He settled both in the drawer before removing the gloves he had on. Black and leather. Your mind was racing, thoughts being assumed. You quickly hid yourself again before slipping away and rushing as fast as possible before he or anyone could spot you.

"It all made sense," you said as you recited that night. "It was no coincidence. You grew obsessed with me not too long after. I wondered if you knew, but I guess not. Maybe you're the oblivious one here and I just acted the part..." you shrugged, eyeing his knife as you lifted it from his neck. "You know... you may have a voice modulator to cover you... but, you think I wouldn't notice other things? The way you fucked me? The way you ate my pussy? Crazy, I know, it's the little things. But I noticed..." looking down at his hip bone and pointing at a scar, you nodded, "yeah... I noticed the scar and I spotted it when a sliver of your skin appeared from your Ghost Face attire...

"Then, of course, the way you kissed me. When you lifted your mask just enough, I noticed the little wisps of white. You really aren't that smart, now, huh?" You chuckled as the horrified man before you bit down roughly and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" He seethed as you smiled.

"Oh, a psych major like me is really lucky, I guess. Getting into the world of criminology and having the feared Ghost Face killer right before me? Maybe I'm lucky. Maybe I'm a bit insane. I mean, I got to pull this off for half a year..." you trailed as Gojo squinted his eyes. "What I want to know is..." you leaned in before tapping his forehead with the hilt of his knife, "what goes on in this twisted, psychotic mind of yours, Satoru Gojo," you smiled. "Or, really, should I say... Ghost Face?"

an: I didn't really mention it but I guess I should say it in case y'all are wondering... reader managed to snatch his mask and knife bc she knew where he kept them hidden and being his TA, she more than likely studied him like he studied her and figured where the key to the drawer was! anyway, this was sm fun to write, I wanted to write some "horror" au's for this month so here's my first! no part two, sorry, but... I personally like to think these two psychos team up and go absolutely feral on the world? I mean... we got the murderer and the brains, what a power couple— anyway, what do you all think? How do you think things would go? would one of them die? would he get caught? idk it's really a free for all kinda ending

[rockislandadultreads]

NoveList: Best Adult Fiction 2022 

Here are a handful of books that made NoveList's best adult fiction list for 2022! Did you know NoveList is a database you can access with your library card to find reading recommendations? Check it out on our website here!

In Search of a Prince by Toni Shiloh

Brielle Adebayo is fully content teaching at a New York City public school and taking annual summer vacations with her mother to Martha's Vineyard. But everything changes when her mom drops the mother of all bombshells - Brielle is a princess in the kingdom of Ọlọrọ Ilé, Africa, and she must immediately assume her royal position, since the health of her grandfather, King Tiwa Jimoh Adebayo, is failing.

Distraught by her mother's betrayal, Brielle is further left spinning when the Ọlọrọ Ilé Royal Council brings up an old edict that states she must marry before assuming the throne or the crown will be passed to another. Uncertain who to choose from the council's list of bachelors, she struggles with the decision along with the weight of her new role in a new country. With her world totally shaken, she must take a chance on love and brave the perils a wrong decision may bring.

This is the first volume in the “In Search of a Prince” series. 

The Fervor by Alma Katsu 

1944: As World War II rages on, the threat has come to the home front. In a remote corner of Idaho, Meiko Briggs and her daughter, Aiko, are desperate to return home. Following Meiko's husband's enlistment as an air force pilot in the Pacific months prior, Meiko and Aiko were taken from their home in Seattle and sent to one of the internment camps in the West. It didn’t matter that Aiko was American-born: They were Japanese, and therefore considered a threat by the American government.

Mother and daughter attempt to hold on to elements of their old life in the camp when a mysterious disease begins to spread among those interned. What starts as a minor cold quickly becomes spontaneous fits of violence and aggression, even death. And when a disconcerting team of doctors arrive, nearly more threatening than the illness itself, Meiko and her daughter team up with a newspaper reporter and widowed missionary to investigate, and it becomes clear to them that something more sinister is afoot, a demon from the stories of Meiko’s childhood, hell-bent on infiltrating their already strange world.

Just By Looking at Him by Ryan O’Connell

Elliott appears to be living the dream as a successful TV writer with a doting boyfriend. But behind his Instagram filter of a life, he’s grappling with an intensifying alcohol addiction, he can’t seem to stop cheating on his boyfriend with various sex workers, and his cerebral palsy is making him feel like gay Shrek.

After falling down a rabbit hole of sex, drinking, and Hollywood backstabbing, Elliott decides to limp his way towards redemption. But facing your demons is easier said than done.

One-Shot Harry by Gary Phillips 

Los Angeles, 1963: African American Korean War veteran Harry Ingram earns a living as a news photographer and occasional process server: chasing police radio calls and dodging baseball bats. With racial tensions running high on the eve of Martin Luther King’s Freedom Rally, Ingram risks becoming a victim at every crime scene he photographs.

When Ingram hears about a deadly automobile accident on his police scanner, he recognizes the vehicle described as belonging to his good friend and old army buddy, a white jazz trumpeter. The LAPD declares the car crash an accident, but when Ingram develops his photos, he sees signs of foul play. Ingram feels compelled to play detective, even if it means putting his own life on the line. Armed with his wits, his camera, and occasionally his Colt .45, “One-Shot” Harry plunges headfirst into the seamy underbelly of LA society, tangling with racists, leftists, gangsters, zealots, and lovers, all in the hope of finding something resembling justice for a friend.

Something Fabulous by Alexis Hall 

Valentine Layton, the Duke of Malvern, has twin problems: literally.

It was always his father’s hope that Valentine would marry Miss Arabella Tarleton. But, unfortunately, too many novels at an impressionable age have caused her to grow up…romantic. So romantic that a marriage of convenience will not do and after Valentine’s proposal she flees into the night determined never to set eyes on him again.

Arabella’s twin brother, Mr. Bonaventure “Bonny” Tarleton, has also grown up…romantic. And fully expects Valentine to ride out after Arabella and prove to her that he’s not the cold-hearted cad he seems to be.

Despite copious misgivings, Valentine finds himself on a pell-mell chase to Dover with Bonny by his side. Bonny is unreasonable, overdramatic, annoying, and…beautiful? And being with him makes Valentine question everything he thought he knew. About himself. About love. Even about which Tarleton he should be pursuing.

This is the first volume in the “Something Fabulous” series.

[bwbatta]

The one where you get together (1)

Abstract: Y/N and Sirius have been friends since they first met on the Hogwarts Express, so when they do get together, they decide not to tell their friends straight away. (Friends AU)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Lupin sister!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, talking about sexual content

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: To celebrate reaching 500 followers, I'm dropping another mini series as a thank you to everyone who has shared and supported my work! Add yourself to my taglist here 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You could still vividly remember the first time you met Sirius Black.

Boarding the train to Hogwarts the first time, you managed to find a compartment with your brother, Remus, before it was descended upon by two rowdy boys with large grins.

James Potter and Sirius Black had, with no hesitation, introduced themselves to you and you quickly became friends, especially when you pulled your money together and bought a various selection of chocolates from the trolley. When the sorting hat placed all of you in Gryffindor, it only reaffirmed your friendship.

It wasn't just the four of you in your little group though, the boys were placed in a dormitory with another boy, Peter, and you shared a dorm with two other girls who also became fierce friends of yours; Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon.

Of course, growing up together through Hogwarts had it's arguments and fall outs, though somehow you always seemed to remain friends.

It wasn't until your seventh, and final year of Hogwarts did the surprising pair of Lily and James get together which solidified your friendship group even further. Between Sirius and you, the bet you had made in your fourth year regarding when the pair would get together, finally came to an end where you had happily took your winnings with a smile and paid for a bottle of Firewhiskey to celebrate.

After graduating, you ended up moving in with Marlene, finding a perfect two bedroom flat for you to share, close to Diagon Alley. The boys had taken a page from your book with Sirius using some of his inheritance from his great uncle and buying a flat directly across the Leaky Cauldron.

Whilst he had invited Peter to also live with him and Remus, the boy politely refused with the intention to stay with his parents for a while.

James however, had asked Lily to move in with him almost the second they graduated and the pair had moved to a little cottage in Godric’s Hollow. It wasn’t long afterwards that James had proposed to Lily which led to the current series of events.

About an hour before, you and Marlene had walked down the aisle in the gardens of Potter Manor in your bridesmaids dresses, while Lily had donned a white dress and followed you. Standing opposite your brother and Sirius, the latter caught your eye when your friends said their wedding vows.

With a wink, Sirius had your attention and you weren't exactly sure what it was that felt different, but something definitely did.

As the reception started, you watched Lily and James take some of their wedding photos together. The smile on your face was something you couldn't help as Remus appeared at your side, a similar expression on his own face.

"Remember when Lily hexed James so hard he vomited out of his nose because he proposed to her?"

"I'm pretty sure it made him like her even more to be honest, James is weird like that." You snickered, accepting the drink from your brother. "Who would've thought we'd be here not even four years later?"

"Tell me about it. If you plan on getting married anytime soon though, please give me some warning." Remus joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

"I think I need to actually date someone before I marry them, but thanks for being so optimistic about my dating life." You grinned at him before seeing Sirius making his way over to the two of you.

"Well well, if it isn't the Lupin twins." Sirius laid an arm over both your shoulders. "How long do you reckon it'll be before Lily's creepy uncle makes a move on Marlene?"

"At least after two more drinks." Remus chuckled. "Which reminds me, I promised I'd save her from any men tonight who wanted to dance with her that, and I quote, looked like they had to use a stamina charm in bed."

"Good luck with that." You snickered, waving your brother off as he disappeared in the direction of the blonde.

Sirius didn't say anything else as he took a seat at one of the tables and pulled you down into his lap. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to hug or cuddle, having done so numerous times in the Gryffindor common room, much to Remus' annoyance. This only really resulted in Sirius being more affectionate.

Being twins, the two of you were naturally closer than normal siblings which resulted in Remus being protective over you since the only blood family you both had left was each other. Your parents, especially your father, had grown fearsome and disgusted at what Remus was, despite it not being his fault when Greyback bit him all those years ago. Your father began to resent you after you constantly took Remus' side and played his constant advocate.

"Hey, what're you thinking about?" Sirius nudged you, grabbing your attention. His expression was unreadable as he watched you watch Lily and James interact with each other.

"I don't know, it's nothing." Sirius nudged you again, looking for a proper answer. "I look at them and I just wonder if I'll ever have that, you know? Someone who looks at you like you're their whole world."

Sirius didn't say anything at first, but pulled you closer. He wouldn't admit it but he often had the same thought cross his mind.

"You'll find them."

"Are they fucking hiding from me?!"

"If they've already met you, then probably."

Smacking his chest, you couldn't help the contagious laughter that bubbled from you, echoing that from the wizard.

"Being serious though," Sirius grinned at the pun he just made, "who wouldn't want you?"

You smiled at him warmly, not knowing what to say. It wasn't often that Sirius was, well serious. The boy loved a joke, but he also loved his friends and knew exactly what to say to them to cheer them up, especially you.

"Thanks, Siri."

"Hey, James and Lily are about to head off for their honeymoon." Remus said, knocking on Sirius' bedroom door at Potter Manor, stepping inside to see Sirius rush back out from the ensuite bathroom only in his shirt and boxers. "What happened to you? You disappeared from the reception."

"Uh, dropped cake down myself, had to come and change." Sirius told him quickly.

"You do realise you're a wizard right? You could've just vanished the mess?"

"Ah yeah, of course, how stupid, sure could've. Anyway, I just need to put on some clean trousers and I'll be right down."

Remus frowned. Something was off but he couldn't work out what it was. Putting it down to Sirius drinking too much, he waved the man off, exiting the room.

"Alright well, hurry down, James was asking for you."

Remus exited the room and Sirius quickly closed the door behind him. Turning back to the bathroom, he watched as you opened the door with a tentative expression, trying to zip your dress back up but failing.

"Do you think he knew I was here?"

"Don't think so, here, turn around, I'll do it." Sirius turned you around, quickly zipping up your dress before resting his hands on your waist. "So, we haven't done that before."

"That is correct."

It was slightly awkward between the two of you, why was it awkward? Oh, maybe because you were both fucking like rabbits not even moments before your brother knocked on the door. It had never been awkward between you before though and you didn't like it.

"Why is it so awkward?" Sirius chuckled as you spun around before him.

"Right! It's like I don't know what to say!"

"We're just two friends who've had sex one time, there doesn't have to be anything awkward about that!"

"Exactly, it doesn't have to be a big deal, it was a one time thing, we can just go back to the party and no one will know!"

"Yes, good plan, lets go!" Turning towards the door, Sirius started towards it with a new determination, completely forgetting one issue.

"Sirius?" He paused, looking back at you, "maybe you should put on some trousers before we go down though."

"Good idea."

Waving James and Lily off, you stood alongside the rest of your friends as Marlene appeared, pulling you towards her by your waist.

"Ugh, please tell me we're going to get some good booze and continue to get fucked up at ours?"

"Is that an open invite?" Remus asked with a grin, "Think I spied an extra bottle of Firewhiskey knocking about near the top table."

"100%," Marlene grinned at him, "after all, it's the least I could do after you saved me from so many creeps tonight. I will thank you in the form of hosting a small afterparty with the inner circle. Right, Y/N?"

"I'm up for it, I'll go see if I can grab that extra bottle you mentioned."

Taking off towards the top table, your eyes scanned the tables one by one until you felt a presence behind you. Already knowing who it was, you didn't bother looking back at them.

"I've got a fresh bottle stashed under my bed upstairs if we wanna grab that one?" Sirius said lowly in your ear.

"That sounds like a plan," you said slowly, "though I thought we said it was only a one time thing?"

"Weddings don't count, right? I swear that's a rule somewhere."

"...How long do you think we can be before the others get suspicious?"

"10 minutes?"

"Sounds good, lets go."

The pair of you said nothing more the entire night on the matter and ended up just having a good time with your friends. The boys ended up sleeping on your sofas, not trusting themselves to apparate safely considering the amount they each had to drink.

It wasn't until mid morning when everyone started to rouse, that you offered to make everyone a cup of tea to help with the hangovers that had started to form.

"Hey, make mine extra strong, will you?"

You laughed, turning to face Sirius.

"You need the caffeine that much?"

"That answer is a strong yes."

Pouring the boiling water into the mugs, you passed Sirius' over to him as he smiled at you in thanks.

"So, yesterday was something." You smiled, taking a sip of your own drink.

"Yeah... something stupid, right?"

"Yeah, totally stupid." There was a brief silence between you as you weren't exactly sure what to say next. "Look as much as I enjoyed it, I don't want us to become awkward or ruin our friendship or anything because of it."

"Good, because I was going to say the same thing." Sirius nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter top. "As good as the sex was, and trust me it was good, it's not worth making our friendship awkward or anything not knowing where we stand with the other."

"Right, yes, that makes a lot of sense." You both took another sip of tea as you listened to Marlene and Remus in the living room laugh about something. "Unless... wait no, it's nothing."

"No, what it is?" Sirius asked.

"Unless... I don't know, we keep fucking in secret and just don't tell the others?"

You stared at the tea in your cup before raising your eyes to meet Sirius' grey ones which were wide, a grin on his face.

"I guess that would work too?"

"Yeah... anyway on a totally unrelated note, Marlene's visiting her family tomorrow night at like 7."

"Noted."

"Where's my bloody tea, Y/N!" The blonde in question strode into the kitchen sluggishly. "I swear you've been in here for 4 hours making it."

"If you were a little more patient, Mar, I was just about to bring it out for you." You rolled your eyes but handed the mug over to her anyway.

"Thanks, how're you two feeling this morning?"

"Rough." Sirius grunted out as the three of you headed back into the living room. "But what's new there, really?!"

"You should really try cut back on your drinking, Pads." Remus mentioned, taking the cup of tea from you with a smile.

"You should cut back on your chocolate."

"Chocolate doesn't give you hangovers." Remus countered with a smirk causing Sirius to just roll his eyes as he sunk down into an armchair.

"Either way, I hope Lils and James are having fun." Marlene stretched out on the other sofa, placing her legs over your own. "I know James will be with the things Y/N and I packed as a surprise in Lily's bags."

You snorted into your cup as you remembered the countless lacy items you'd snuck into Lily's normally conservative wardrobe.

"Well, James might be happy about what you packed, but he certainly won't be happy with what we packed." Sirius snickered as Remus held back a laugh.

"What did you do?!"

"We might've exchanged his entire bag of clothes for an entire bag of Cornish Pixies." Sirius grinned. "I'm already expecting a howler from Lily at some point in the near future."

Sirius didn’t have to wait long for Lily’s reaction as only moments later he heard an angry shout through his two way mirror he shared with James.

As planned, Marlene visited her family the next day and no later after she flooed away, Sirius appeared at the front door of your flat. The same happened after Marlene was picked by Dumbledore for an order mission and Sirius happily flooed into your flat only moments later. You were convinced he’d bugged your flat somehow.

James and Lily returned from their honeymoon a week later, effectively surprising you as they flooed into your flat with no warning, causing you to stuff a naked Sirius into your closet. It was safe to say he wasn’t impressed after Lily insisted she make a pot of tea to ‘catch up’, and ended up staying round for several hours. 

You barely managed to hide the snicker which escaped your lips when James asked if you knew where Sirius was.

With the newly married pair being back, the two of you decided to come up with a plan as how to sneak around without the others knowing.

Somehow, it didn’t really go to plan.

Sirius insisted that you should come over and take a bath with him one night, especially as Remus was due to be out. You couldn’t help but agree to the idea, mostly because you got to spend time with your very sexy male friend who looked very good in bubbles... and also the fact his bathtub was a lot better than your own.

The bathtub in question was a massive claw-foot tub which could fit the two of you and your two roommates if you so desired. Compared against the shitty little tub Marlene and you had in your flat, it was a no brainer.

Which is why as you sat in between Sirius’ legs, your back against his chest, you couldn’t help but feel more relaxed than you had done all week. 

Sirius was leant back against the tub, his arm around your waist with a glass of Firewhiskey in his other hand. The two of you had nicked this particular bottle from James’ ‘secret stash’ which everyone knew he hid under his cloak, under the stairs. It was all too easy for the two of you to sneak in and borrow it for the time being. 

“You know, Prongs must be real blind if he can’t see how many people actually know about his hiding spots.” You snickered as you took the glass from Sirius and took a sip.

“I think it might be all the brain damage after getting hit in the head so many times.” He grinned.

“How long do you think it’ll be until he notices the actual bottle being gone? A few days?”

“Give him some credit, it’ll be at least a week.”

The two of you chuckled before you heard the fireplace roar with flames. Footsteps quickly made their way towards Sirius’ room before heading towards the bathroom.

A panicked look between the two of you was exchanged as a knock was heard on the door. 

“Pads? It’s me, I’m coming in.”

Sirius quickly took the glass of Firewhiskey back from you as you dived underwater, praying the bubbles would cover up the fact you were there. 

The door opened and James stepped in about to say something, before he stopped and observed the scene before him. Sirius was sat covered in bubbles with candles lit around him. Despite the calm expression on his face, the fact you were lying between his legs in the water had his heart racing. 

“Did you need something, Prongs?”

“Uh, yeah, have you seen the bottle of Firewhiskey which I was given as a gift for my wedding?” James asked, very obviously looking at the opened bottle on the side of the bath. 

“Didn’t even know you got given one, mate. This was from Y/N.”

“And if I ask her, will she give me the same story?”

“Positively. Anything else?”

“Yeah, you want to order some Chinese?” 

“I mean I- NO!” 

His outburst was a surprise to both James and himself after you had pinched him underwater signalling you were running out of air.

“Really? Lily’s got me on this diet and-”

“James! Get out!”

“Fine! Okay! No need to shout at me, I’ve seen you in weirder scenarios.”

James left and shut the door behind him just as soon as you jolted up, gasping for breath. 

“I’m sorry, he wouldn’t leave! He wanted to ask me if I fancied some Chinese.”

“Chinese?” You asked, turning to look at him over your shoulder with a contemplative look on your face. “I could go for some chow mein.”

“Prongs!” Taking a deep breath, you disappeared underwater again just before James appeared once more. “I’ll have a large chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, some of those prawn cracker things and the spring rolls.”

“Spring rolls? I swear only Y/N likes them.”

“Thought I’d try them out since as she’s always yapping on about them.”

“Alright, back in a bit.”

James left and shut the door again. You emerged from the water, leaning back on Sirius again as he relayed off what he’d ordered. 

“You ordered me spring rolls?!”

“Yeah, I remembered you liked them.” Sirius shrugged, wrapping his arm around your waist again. “Even if they taste like arse.”

The group had gathered at Marlene and Y/N’s for an evening where despite Lily’s constant health kicks, she relented into ordering pizza for the group. 

“Hey, you guys will never guess what I found out today.” Marlene grinned.

“You’re secretly a guy?” Sirius snickered from the armchair, only to receive a cushion being thrown at his face by the blonde. 

“No,” Marlene scowled at him, “Alice and Frank got engaged!” 

“What?! How’d you find out?” Lily asked as she cuddled up to James in the other armchair. 

“I ran into Alice at Headquarters earlier and she showed me her ring.” Marlene leant back into the sofa as she brought her legs up to lay them over Remus’ lap. “We best be getting ready for another wedding soon.”

“I’m sure we’ll hear more at the meeting tomorrow.” James said grinning. “Who knew Longbottom had it in him?!”

“Alice certainly did.” You snickered, leaning onto Remus’ other shoulder. The comment got another round of chuckles from everyone present as Lily shot you a less than impressed look. 

“Alright, I say let’s call it a night if we have to be at the meeting early tomorrow morning.” The redhead rolled her eyes at you all before standing up and brushing her dress down. 

Everyone else seemed to follow her lead as Marlene and you stood to show everyone out. 

“Yeah, I need to sleep as much as I can with Moony’s snoring keeping me up all night.” Sirius grinned, stepping up beside you and Remus. 

What no one expected to happen was for Sirius to dip and find your lips in a kiss, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer, just as he had done for the last few weeks. 

The rest of the group stood with slack jaws as they took in the scene before them as they watched Sirius kiss you. Pulling away, you caught each other’s eyes as realisation set in and your own eyes went wide. 

“Marls,” Sirius shook off his slight hesitation before heading straight over to Marlene and pulling her in for a kiss of her own. “Lily.”

Stepping forward to give Lily a kiss goodbye, Sirius couldn’t help but notice the wide eyed look from both James at kissing his wife and Remus at kissing his sister. 

“Pleasure to spend time with you all.” Sirius grinned at everyone’s expressions before entering the fireplace to floo back to his own flat. 

“What the hell was that?!” Remus asked with wide eyes, securely on you. 

“Probably some leftover greeting from Lily and James’ wedding. Lils did have some french cousins, perhaps he picked it up from them?” You chuckled, trying to play down the laugh you so wanted to let out. 

“Yeah, it did feel french.” Marlene snickered. “I’m not sure if I feel happy about saying that I’ve kissed Sirius Black though.”

“Well, he can keep his lips to himself and not on my wife.” James scowled at the fireplace where Sirius had disappeared moments before. 

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Artistic Instinct Chapter 10

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, grief, loss and some second base action.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who reads, re-reads, points out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary - Xan Oku

Chapter 10

Your eyes fly open - heart pounding, mouth dry- as the nighttime movie that played behind your eyelids finishes abruptly. Hugging your arms around yourself, you try to steady the impact of that injection of adrenaline into your veins, drawing deep breaths into your lungs as you gaze into the oil slick of darkness surrounding you. The sounds of day are yet to kick into being as your phone screen illuminates 03:02 - the trains not yet pulling out of their sidings, sirens still silenced for the most part. The night air is just punctuated by the rhythmic pitter patter of rain upon the roof and the sweetest little snores still rising steadily from your…

Your boss.

For fucks sake.

Once could be called a mistake, even if it was a twelve year long one. But back doing this shit again? Sheer fucking stupidity. Your head drops into your hands as a stab of pain cuts through your gut. What the fuck do you do now? Marcus so honestly put his heart on a platter for you last night- could you be the cold hearted, callous bitch that throws it back in his face? All of your body fizzes with fear - your muscles twitching with the cortisol so rather than irritate him with your fidgeting, you slide out of his bed.

Bare soles on the night-cooled wooden floors help to ground your flighty soul as you walk around the unfamiliar apartment. Whilst the exterior dampness can only come as far as pretty patterns on the window pane, the chill causes tiny pinprick goosebumps to stand proud against your skin. You finally settle cross-legged on the floor by the French doors leading out to the balcony, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass - mentally cheering on your favourites as they glide towards the inky pools gathering beneath them.

With your mind so lost in your new-found sport, you aren’t entirely aware of the arrival of a warm, breathing blanket that curls itself around your body languidly before you are tightly encircled by long limbs and gentle nuzzling into the side of your neck, “What’s up, honey?”

A small, precious kiss is pressed into your temple before the sleep-thick murmur continues in your ear, “Thought you’d left. So happy to find you here.”

Leaning back into his broad chest, you allow the expanse of his form that is wrapped around you to consume your body whole, “Bad dream. Couldn’t get back to sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

“‘M sorry,” Marcus slides you slightly to his left so he can search your face for the answers that you are so incredibly reluctant to give, “Your heart is racing - do you want to talk or just have things that will make you feel better?”

Initially, you don’t feel able to catch his gaze, having thought about breaking his heart only minutes prior to his soothing arrival but when you do, everything hits you like a ton of bricks. The deep pillow creases of his cheek, sweetly mussed up hair and the earthy hues of his questioning eyes make your fist fly to cover your eyes as your tears echo the deluge of rain.

He doesn’t speak. Just holds you close. Cradling you in his arms as your body shakes into his. Marcus allows you to sit with your pain awhile - not pressuring you to speak or offering any empty platitudes to solve it- allowing the hurricane of grief to rip through you, all the while tethering you to the ground.

As the tears exhaust themselves, Marcus leaves and your eyes dance in panic at the loss of his soothing touch. The relief of hearing his kettle start to boil and then the gentle roar of taps filling a tub, stretch a ghostly pair of arms back around you, soothing the ache beneath your ribs. A hand reaches down to you offering a way out - gently hoisting you back onto your feet.

“C’mere sweetheart,” Marcus pulls you back into his chest, pressing a line of kisses along your hairline, “I’ve made you a cup of camomile tea and run you a bath.”

He makes to leave you but your haunted eyes and tight grip upon his wrist beg him to stay, “Honey, I don’t want to overstep the mark here. I’m sorry that I asked you to stay. Overwhelming you like this, isn’t fair of me.”

Trying to eloquently respond to him comes out with just a snotty sad gasp so you vehemently shake your head tugging his hand towards the bathroom. Once inside the metro tiled space - pausing between heaving breaths - you manage to squeak out in your juddery voice, “Please stay with me.”

“Please don’t feel guilty - this is just shit I need to work through,” you mumble as you fiddle with the hem of Marcus’ t-shirt, feeling his skin twitch as you accidentally make contact, “I’m sorry that it’s having a knock on effect for you.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he leans in to sweetly kiss your forehead, “I’ll turn around while you get in but I promise not to leave.”

“I don’t care if you see me naked - it’s just a body,” you mutter slightly confused by this sentiment when he’d been stroking your breasts earlier. As you start peeling off the t-shirt you’d borrowed from him, Marcus swings to face the bathroom door quickly.

“No,” the sharpness of Marcus’ response steals the air from your lungs momentarily - you stand in front of him like a rabbit caught in headlights, “I’m sorry, sweetheart - didn’t mean to be so forceful. No - it’s not just a body. It is your body and I wanna enjoy it properly when you’re not so upset. It would be taking advantage.”

Slowly lowering yourself into the delicious expanse of Marcus’ bath, you allow the warmth to soak into your aching bones. The water cocoons and hugs every inch of you as you permit it to unknit every knot of tension within your body.

“You can turn around now.”

A kind smile plays upon the deep creases set by Marcus’ eyes, “Tilt your head back.”

Reaching behind you, he turns on the shower attachment - the water bursting forth in a perfect summer rain across the skin of the bath water. Like a parent with a child, he checks the temperature until it reaches a soothing heat and runs it over your hair, soaking every last strand, washing away the mix of salt from anxious sweat and tears. Dropping the shower head in the bath, he then grabs a generous squirt of shampoo in his hands, lathering it into your scalp, massaging until you feel like a gelatinous blob under his skilful touch.

After rinsing every last bubble and sud from your hair, Marcus then squeezes out some conditioner - the bottle releasing the most indecent sound that has you both giggling like small children. Having coated his digits well, he starts to run his fingers through your hair - combing every strand with his hands, ensuring there isn’t a single knot to be found. A gentle finger beneath your chin tells you to tip your head back again as the shower rinses the excess away.

Settling back on the plush bath mat, Marcus passes you your tea silently and you just sit. Sit there in companionable silence - without an ounce of awkwardness- just both sipping tea as your body gradually accepts its need to sleep again.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready,” Marcus gazes softly after your disappearing form as you spin into your bedroom to get dressed for work. It takes every bit of gentlemanly restraint that he possesses not to follow you, run his hands over your silken skin and get a hit of your delicious taste. Instead he re-settles his mind by looking around your flat having finally been allowed a peek inside your inner sanctum.

He doesn’t quite know what he expects to see but it certainly isn’t this. It feels an odd mix in there- piles of cushions and blankets but no photos. No pictures decorating the place yet multiple empty frames propped against walls, waiting for their stories to be told. Your home isn’t really a home at all - it is just a roof over your head with nests for you to curl into exhaustedly.

“Have you been here long?” he asks quizzically, spying the battered moving boxes that have obviously been rummaged through for a missing necessary nick-nack or two but never having been fully unpacked. Marcus runs his hand over the coarse, corrugated cardboard and light spattering of dust coating them, wondering what secrets you wish to keep hidden in there and if you will ever open fully to him, to allow him to lighten your load.

“Almost two years,” he hears you muffledly answer through the jumper you pull over your head as you momentarily reappear in the doorway of your bedroom - a vision of radiantly soft curves- just knickers and a mess of limbs arguing with the item of clothing, before your breasts get hidden under the striped knitwear.

As much as Marcus tries to stop himself, his body takes the required steps forward so that his fingers can be satiated with the warmth of your skin. He doesn’t kiss you yet - the heat of his breath just dusts the shell of your ear as he inhales the scent of his shampoo in your hair.

“Look at you,” he murmurs - shaking his head in disbelief as he grabs your wrists and pulls you into him, “Beautiful.”

Using the back of his hand to release the hair caught in the collar of your jumper, Marcus takes a moment to drink in all your features. The flecks of gold in your eyes, the sharpness of your cheekbones, the streaks of wisdom in your hair - how were you, the beauty that you are, interested in him?

And then you’re kissing him. Your mouth open, soft lips inviting him into your inner sanctum. He feels your fingertips stroking into the nape of his neck, your nails scratching into the hair that twists and curls there. Shivers of pleasure run down Marcus’ spine, making him pull you closer as your touch sparks life across his body. Your gentle push causes Marcus to startle - to stumble backwards, falling back onto the sofa, sending cushions scuttling across the floor.

Feeling his jaw tic as you clamber into a kneeling position above him, Marcus tries to steady his breath by focussing on the small details of you. The darker spots of pigmentation where the sun has permanently kissed your skin. The divots of your collarbones just peeking above your sweater. The small reminder of a childhood misadventure just above your right eyebrow.

Nope. This is not working. God, I want her.

“Lower those goddamn hips,” he growls, “Sit down.”

“I can’t,” he hears you whimper, eyes shut tight, “I’ll make a mess of your trousers.”

Marcus groans as he considers the sweetness that is encased by those bright pink, lace edged panties - still not quite believing that it is him who has had this effect on you. When you grab his hands that have been stroking little circles by your knees and pull them to your ass, the heat in him rises as he squeezes and needles the delicious flesh beneath.

“This is gonna be hard having you work so close,” as soon as he hears the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. The little twitch between your eyebrows. The tremble of your bottom lip. The slight shift back of your weight upon his lap. Marcus catches them all.

“I’m sorry. Nush, I shouldn’t have…”

As your weight rocks back away from him, leaving his body quickly cooling with your absence, the air is punctuated with your muttering of one word over and over. Each utterance a bullet coated in guilt hitting him sharply.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Scrunching his eyes tight shut, he rocks forward, head in hands. Should he come after you? Should he leave? Fuck, Pike.

Hearing the creak of your bedroom door, Marcus lifts his head in your direction - his eyes throwing a million apologies to you, “Nush, I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s the last thing that I’d ever want to do.”

He watches as you walk across the floor - smaller shuffling steps rather than your usual confident stomp, your eyes red-rimmed and glassy and your breathing a little jagged - and feels like he’s just crushed a butterfly in his hands when all he was trying to do was appreciate its beauty. Water starts to pool in the corners of his eyes as he blinks hard to warn them off - after all, he didn’t need to give you any other reason to walk away from him. A small grateful smile creeps across his face when you settle between his knees, resting your arms across his lap - your tear-streaked face looking up at him.

“I’m frightened,” he hears you whisper, “Repeating past mistakes is sheer fucking stupidity.”

Marcus freezes, the blood in his veins turning to ice as he awaits your verdict.

“I can’t do that again. You cannot become another Jasper to me. The relationship that never was with all the hiding.”

“I don’t want us to hide,” he hears his voice betraying him as fear courses through his synapses, his hands aching to touch you. Hold you.

Please don’t let me lose her.

Please don’t let this be it.

“Can I touch you?” Marcus quietly, carefully checks before daring to reach out. He watches as a cloud of confusion washes across your face at his request.

“Of course you can. What? Hang on, did you think,” you pause, brow furrowed, “Did you think I want to stop whatever this turns out to be?”

With his shoulders slightly hunched, one hand reaching behind to rub the base of his neck, Marcus nods, “Yeah, a bit. I…”

“I don’t wanna fuck this up, Nush,” he reaches forward to stroke your wrist.

“Me neither, but we will,” your words take a moment to register with him, “We have both experienced so much - good and bad - that we will put our proverbial foot in it with each other.

“But, I hope that in time, with our collective pasts and the streaks of grey in our hair, we may also slowly learn how to communicate and say when things are a bit shit for us and why. Why my instinct is to run screaming from things and why you think everyone you love is going to leave.”

Marcus curls forward so he can rest his forehead against yours before placing a small kiss there, “Now you’re really gonna have to be two minutes if we’re gonna get to work on time. I’m just gonna shut my eyes until you’re dressed so I’m not tempted to make us late.”

“You think that’ll work?”

Chuckling at the wink you throw at him over your shoulder, Marcus starts to allow that tiny ray of hope he’s been burying for years to shine again.

✪✪✪✪✪

As Marcus opens the door for you, an overwhelming wave assaults your senses. Noises from tapping keyboards, phones ringing and computers blaring, the overwhelming scents of fatty, sugary yet discarded breakfasts and coffee hits hard but it’s the tiny, surreptitious stroke at the base of your spine gives you the kick you need to go in and start your day. A steaming coffee is thrust towards Marcus behind you and some case files are handed to you by a smiling Andy, “Morning Sir, morning Nush. What time did you manage to get cleared up?”

“Between the two of us, it didn’t take too long,” you grin at the PA before looking over your shoulder to find Marcus smiling at you, “Think I was asleep by eleven.”

“Snoring away,” Marcus barely audibly whispers, making your eyes widen.

“Ready for the meeting at nine o’clock, Sir? I have everything set up in the conference room, ready to go…” Andy sweeps Marcus away from you as you head over to your desk, spying the hot cup of Java awaiting your arrival.

New piles of paperwork seem to litter your desk, replacing the ones you’d tried so hard to clear on Friday afternoon. Office life. That it is a life is a bit of a lie, as every soul within your office space looks like it is in some stage of decomposition. Kiri appears to be in need of another weekend to get over the two days of rest just gone, Dian is yawning into her coffee and as for Harper, well, there’s a part of you that doesn’t quite believe she’s fully human with the way she’s already ploughing through her work.

When 9am finally rolls around, it feels more like two in the afternoon. Marcus sticks his head out of the door to call everyone into the meeting and is met by several groans from the team as they reluctantly shake themselves from their chairs and drag their Monday fatigued bones towards the conference room. At the oval, walnut table, you sit sandwiched between Dian and Kiri, directly opposite Andy in a hopefully not too obvious ploy to not be too close to Marcus.

“Good morning everyone, I’d ask you if you’d all had a good weekend but I think we spent enough time together to know that we all did,” a chuckle rises from your office mates as Marcus welcomes everyone, “I wanted to have a catch up this morning as the Soutine that Agent Pierce and I checked in Lyon, has come back as a definite fake. The verdict was reached late Friday afternoon and the French authorities are currently trying to trace its origins.

“We also received word this morning that a Modigliani has turned up in Sotheby’s - they have their own art fraud team but hopefully we will get a look in soon. Agent Pierce, I know I haven’t asked you to prep but could you explain to the team what the issues are around his work?”

“Sotheby’s?” you question, staring straight at Marcus and entirely ignoring his request, “I can get in there now as my best mate works in the fraud team.”

“Hephzibah?” Andy catches your eye, “Didn’t realise she’d transferred over from Scotland Yard.”

“More money,” you shrug as Andy presses his lips together and nods in agreement.

“No, Agent Pierce, I’d like us to hang back for now,” Marcus responds, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, “If you could give us some of your insight about Modigliani’s pieces, please?”

Slightly taken aback by Marcus’ firmness, you take a moment before responding, “Modigliani’s back catalogue is a fucking mess as he used to give out sketches like a fortune teller.

“Jean Cocteau said that he was drawn by Modigliani roughly fifty times but he only ever owned one picture. Prices have skyrocketed over the past decade with one going for $170.4 million dollars so he’s very much a member of the $100 million club along with Warhol, Picasso et al but not quite at their ethereal prices.

“One of the main things about Modigliani is that the love of the man is not easily separated from his art. Over the years, he has been painted as somewhat Byronesque in his exploits by salacious biographies and films - very much sex and drugs and rock n roll. A bohemian who lived in Montparnasse and Montmartre at the Fin de Siecle - he was known by all the artists who lived there at the time - Picasso even said he was the only man in Paris who knew how to dress.

“To be honest, whilst he was hot - soulful dark eyes, ebony, wavy hair and a beautiful bone structure with an extraordinary amount of intelligence and eloquence-”

“Ah, so you have a type?” Harper mutters into her notes.

Your cheeks flush and eyes dart around the room, hoping that Marcus didn’t hear that as you desperately try to summon a consummate professional performance for the others, “-It is hugely difficult to separate the man from the myth but the main issue due to his profligacy with his art, unlike the other greats who get over $100 million for their work, Modigliani’s work is often questioned. You could easily find a Modigliani in an attic with a letter attached from the man himself and people would still raise an eyebrow at it.

“So, um, the main thing according to all the auction houses is that unless it is in the catalogue curated by Ceroni, it ain’t a Modigliani. This is problematic in itself as that was published in 1958 and even some of the pieces on his list are questionable. People have ended up in prison over their dubious dealings with Modigliani’s back catalogue as you can see in the case of Parisot.

“So if a piece comes to auction that isn’t on the list, they’re damned if it is a Modigliani, and damned if it isn’t?” Dian questions you.

“Pretty much. And he worked at a time when a lot of advances and changes happened in artist’s products. In the first half of the twentieth century, both the production of paint and paper changed massively as everything was slowly more industrialised and made more stable. By industrialising these things, it made the equipment cheaper quicker as more could use it rather than being made Etsy-style in tiny batches that were way beyond the means of most artists.

“Normally, with older pieces we can look at how the artists use paints and the type of paints they use but with more modern artists everything becomes a bit murkier as it is harder to date. And I will stop there before I piss off Harper by rabbiting on too much more.”

Even Harper has the decency to smirk at your comment before returning to her notes. Marcus’s gaze has softened again as you finish speaking, “ Thanks, Agent Pierce. Perhaps we could hear from you now Agent Gleason and Youngerson?”

Harper raises her eyebrows in Marcus’ direction before starting, “So, Agent Youngerson and I have been looking at various right wing groups currently active across the world and what their links are to the art world. The main ones who have thrown up scents for us to chase are The Old School Society, Hydra and The Order.”

Dian looks up from her pad of extensive notes, “Yeah, we've been tracing money routes with those three and when looking at the main donors to these groups, they’ve all had dealings with art galleries and auction houses recently. So we’re now looking into each donor carefully and may need to do some in the field meetings with them as prospective buyers - so my darling work wife, Nush, we may need notes unless you fancy being our cover girl?” she comically winks at you. Making a little heart with your index finger and thumb, you send an equally cheesy wink and click of the tongue back at her.

Marcus huffs a chuckle out at the two of you before turning his attention to Kiritopa, “How have you been getting on with your catalogue of fakes relating to this case?”

“Yeah, alright - slow going collecting all the data as it seems some auction houses are reluctant to reveal how many fakes pass through their doors,” Kiri frowns before glugging some more coffee.

“It’s understandable, they don’t want their reputations dashed. Doesn’t make our work any easier though. Agent Morrison - if you can show me what you’ve compiled so far that’d be great,” Marcus gives the agent a small, sincere smile before turning to address the room again, “Right, I have a meeting this afternoon that’ll keep me out of the office for the rest of the day so I’ll leave you all to get on. Have a great day everyone.”

✪✪✪✪✪

You:

Hey sexy lady, I hear you’ve got a tasty little number at S’s - can I take a look?

Hephzi:

Off the books? Course you can. Change into civvies and I’ll get you in this afternoon.

You:

You’re a fucking ⭐️. I’ll make it worth your while

Hephzi:

Do you mean cake and coffee? Because if you do, I’m fucking yours.

You:

Urm obviously! See you around two?

A small knock on your desk makes you put down your phone and you look up into Marcus’ face, “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Yes, Sir,” as you push your chair away from your desk, you throw your mobile in your desk drawer and follow him into his office.

His desk is immaculately tidy and warm to the touch with its honey and caramel tones washing back and forth in undulating waves as if across a beach. There’s not a hint of Marcus in his office yet - no personal treasures - it stands in stark contrast to the warmth of the man you’re getting to know.

“I just wanted to check you were ok. I heard what Harper said,” he reaches out to straighten the ribbing at the bottom of your jumper, his thumb stroking your tummy lightly.

“She’s not wrong,” you grin lopsidedly at him as you step in closer, placing your hands on either side of his face, “Dark soulful eyes, beautifully high cheekbones, delightfully luscious lips that are perfect for kissing - hard not to fancy Modigliani, really.”

“You’re mean,” Marcus squeezes your hip as he shakes his head, “When would you like to speak to the others? I think being up front with them will help us in the long run.”

You sit on the edge of his desk, leaning back slightly, your face illuminated by your smile, “Maybe we can have our first date and then think about the long run?”

When you see the flinch from Marcus, a pang of guilt echoes through your gut as you recall your earlier conversation, “I think you’re right- once we’re truly confident we know where this is headed, we should speak up. I am not going to lose my job or risk my reputation for you… but I also already know that I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Me neither,” his hand reaches out for you, fingers entangling, thumbs stroking - eyes crinkling as they meet yours, “What are you doing for lunch?”

“Well, I was a bit distracted when I got dressed this morning - there was this really hot guy in my flat…”

“Uh huh, tell me about him,” Marcus slowly drawls, looking down at you amusedly.

“Oh you don’t want to know, Sir. Wouldn’t let me get dressed. Just kept groping me.”

“How... inappropriate of him.”

“Yeah - so I was almost late to work because of him wanting his wicked way with me and accidentally ended up putting on two different shoes.” Marcus steps away from you and having looked down, notices the one extremely dark navy and one black ballet pump with a gently shaking chest as he tries to swallow his chuckle.

“Going home to change? Your mind really must have been elsewhere,” you nod at him -slightly embarrassed by your initial genuine mistake that has now become a cover story. His gaze intensifies as he cups your face, his eyes focussing on your lips, “I’m sorry honey, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop you there and back before my meeting - will you be ok?”

“Of course, Marcus - I’ve worked here for years,” you tease him, feeling awkward as fuck when the half truth you are spinning for your boss feels awkward and bitter in your mouth.

But his kiss doesn’t. Marcus quickly closes the gap between the two of you, leaning towards you - his head tilted, lips soft and welcoming with their desire for you utterly apparent. Deepening the kiss, his mouth gently opening, tongue searching as his hands drop from your face to your waist, you find yourself forgetting to worry that anyone could walk in. Forgetting the regret of lying to him. What had you even been talking about? Should you be doing this? Fuck it. You pull him the final distance so that no air could pass between you - just you and Marcus refusing to pause for breath until your lungs run out of air.

Pulling back to gaze at him with lust blown pupils, wanting him so much more, you eventually find the energy to push away from him. Swiping at your lips with your thumb in case anyone spots the remnants of this moment as you walk towards the door on brand new baby deer legs.

“Hey Nush,” you swing back to look at Marcus, still standing, equally dumbstruck as you, before he winks with a cheeky grin, “Nice shoes.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Gripping the cardboard carrier that holds two steaming cups of black coffee in your left hand, you ring the bell to the magnificent Bloomsbury building that has sold multiple pieces of multi-million pound art. The Georgian façade is impressive in its structure and beautifully kept without a sign of peeling paint, decrying its almost 250 year history - a far cry from the shatterproof glass and steel at HQ. Hephzi opens the door to you with a wide grin upon her face, “Bang on time, missus - I swear the only way to get you places quickly, is with the promise of fine art to get you salivating!”

You can’t really respond eloquently to her as you are absorbed into the cool of the elegant building. Whilst kept modern and minimalistic, the space has retained some of its more charming period features - the cornicing and ceiling roses are still firmly in place despite the stark white of the walls. Oh, the pieces that have passed through this space! The very thought makes you tingle all over through excitement.

Currently bedecking the walls are a collection of women artists about to go up for auction the next day. To you, there was no true money in those frames - just a conversation between you, the spectator and the artist about their emotions in picture form. A discussion that spanned centuries as you follow Hephzi’s soft footsteps through the gallery, enjoying every single one from a still life of flowers surrounded by butterflies and other insects by Rachel Ruysch to one of the copies of Blinding by Tracy Emin - the upside down nude female form shaped in neon pink tubes. The artists speak through ages, through the art upon the wall, in the language of your soul.

Marcus would love it here. Oh to bring him and enjoy it together, walking through the space, hand in hand. My head on his shoulder...

“...Hello? Earth to Nushka? Ah, welcome back,” Hephzibah is shaking her head at you, “You’re here on work experience if anyone asks, yes?”

“Yup,” still only half listening to your friend, you begrudgingly continue on to her workspace in the fraud and forgeries department, reluctantly walking away from the art you long to submerge yourself in.

“Right, hand over the coffee and cake- I take payment in advance, Madam,” Hephzi demands, hand outstretched, “So tell me about the new job. What’s your new boss like?”

“Marcus is nice,” you quietly offer into the rim of your coffee.

“First names already?” Hephzibah’s eyes are round with surprise, “And you mention him before the job… Who even are you? What have you done with the real Nush? Oh! Oh Nush, do you like him?”

You stand there blinking hard, feeling an absolute idiot for being so awkward in front of the person you call your best friend. A small, barely perceivable nod through the steam of your coffee has the arms of your best friend wrapped around you, “Nush, tell me more - has anything happened? Do you think he feels the same way?”

“I think so. Made a curry last night for the team at his flat, and ended up staying the night - nothing happ.. Well, we didn’t have sex but I think he likes me,” you nervously chatter at her before drawing a deep breath, “He’s pretty fucking amazing. Seems to be genuinely a nice guy - just straight talking, gentle, kind and holy shit is he good looking! His kisses and touches just turn me into fucking jelly.”

“Better than Jas?”

Your heart thuds in your chest so hard that there is a point where you fully expect it to wrench open your rib cage and run across the floor. You stare wide-eyed, your mouth open

“What?”

Hephzi steps forward, her gaze gentle as she places her hand on your arm, “You weren’t quite as good at hiding it as you thought you were. It was pretty obvious you were together and loved each other very dearly - I just knew that if I ever brought it up that you would run a mile.

“I tried telling you that I knew before. It was after he died and I wanted you to know that I knew it wasn’t just the death of a co-worker. Not that there’s ever any just in those situations for us either but I knew. When I asked about meeting someone the other day, it was more of me just trying to figure out if you were ready to date again.”

With that, the floodgates open and the grief flows you like a river, eroding your defences away. Hephzi holds you as you utterly soak through her expensive blouse, “I wanted to tell you so many times but I was terrified of what you’d think of me.”

“What I’d think of you - are you fucking kidding me, you absolute idiot?” she tucks your tear drenched hair behind your ears, “I’ve held your hair back in pub toilets as you’ve thrown up from too much alcohol and gotten you out of so many other scrapes but that, a relationship with a man from work is what you think I’d judge you for? Nah, that's not how any of this works, mate. Firstly, you can’t help who you fall in love with and secondly, where else are you ever going to meet someone when all you do is work?”

“N...N...Need a tissue. You made me get all snotty,” you tearfully stammer, all blotchy-face and tear streaked.

Hephzi can’t help but laugh at you blaming her for your tears. As she grabs a tissue, she also grabs the cake and the serviettes from the bag, “Come on, I know what’ll cheer you up - cake and a masterpiece.”

Following her into the studio beside her office, there it is. A supposedly lost version of Modigliani’s Nu Couché sur le Côté Gauche - her sheer sensuality rolling off her in waves. The way that she gazes out of the piece beguilingly, inviting you to join her on the bed, the sheets ruffled and rolling beneath her delicious curves.

Hephzi laughs at your reaction to the piece, “She’s hot isn’t she?”

“Yep - I’d definitely do her. I’d like to say that it is her almond eyes enticing me but really, it’s that entirely biteable bum,” you say before biting into the pastel de nata.

“Agreed - although for me, it’s her back and her thighs. They are edible - as you rightly say,” she says into her coffee.

“How’s the provenance?”

Hepzhi pulls a face as she turns back to you, “Traceable, but this one isn’t in Ceroni.”

“Shit.”

“My thoughts entirely. Look, love, I can’t let you touch it but feel free to take photos, measurements etc. As soon as my own tests come back, I promise you’ll know before the guys upstairs do,” Hephzibah asserts before sitting back on the desk in the room, “Just remember, you’re here on work experience.”

You throw a thank you over your shoulder at the rapidly retreating figure of Hepzi as you set to work. Using a Canon with a macro lens, you instantly photograph the major features and then take several overlapping pictures so that you can look close up on your computer at work. Whilst not quite a microscope, it would have to do given the circumstances. You trusted Hephzi’s sample taking but it was good to see it in person, even if Marcus had asked you to hold fire.

Whilst you were taking measurements of various points and aspects of the picture, you realised there were multiple footsteps coming up the corridor. Hephzi, obviously heard them gaining on the studio too and rejoined you, to back the story of work experience rather than letting her old friend backstage for some covert readings. She threw her notebook at you with a pencil to have the pretence of you taking notes as she worked.

“Well, Hephzibah, that is the first time I’ve ever seen you entrust your beloved notebook with anyone other than yourself. You have never even shown me the secrets you record there, and I am the person paying your salary,” a truly plummy voice cut through the room, “Whoever this work experience girl is, we will have to see about hiring her if you trust her this much.”

Hephzibah plasters a smile onto her features, “Sir, she is the best I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Such a keen eye.”

Refusing to turn around, you carry on making notes in Hephzi’s journal, attempting to concentrate on the words written in front of you, instead of the intrusion.

“So what d’ya think? On first impressions, is it real?”

Shit.

That voice.

Stepping up in response, Hephzibah firmly states, “Sir, I am terribly sorry but I am not currently at liberty to be able to fully disclose that info…”

“Oh no, it is quite alright, Hephzibah - this gentleman is Marcus Pike. He is currently fronting an investigation into white terrorism and art forgeries with 5 Eyes. One of your old lot, you know,” Hephzibah’s boss winks as if he was letting her in on the national secrecy act.

“Marcus Pike?” Hephzi shoots you a surreptitious look before the smile is back, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. Shame we haven’t crossed paths before now.”

Marcus offers his hand in greeting to Hephzibah, “I hope we can put that right in the future. I was wondering if we could hear from your work experience person. I am always open to fresh eyes.”

Dread courses through your veins as you turn towards Marcus, not wanting to look him in the face, “It would be remiss of me to make a declaration without reading through and tracking back the provenance as well as undertaking the necessary infrared and paint samples.”

“Sensible,” Marcus nods, his face not betraying a single emotion.

Your face creases at his lack of response, something that Hephzi’s boss picks up on, “Are you alright, dear? You don’t look terribly well.”

“Sudden headache, sir. I should probably get going for today anyway,” you virtually throw Hephzi’s notebook at her before grabbing your bag, “Thank you for today, I will be in touch, Hephzibah.”

Running out of the building as fast as your feet and lungs can carry you, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

Sir Agent Marcus Pike:

Hey,

We need to talk. My office at 5?

You:

...

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319 @sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @day-off-inkyoto @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @lawfulgranola @agirllovespancakes @theravenreads @lv7867 @ezrasbirdie @songsformonkeys

[tedturneriscrazy]

And here we are with Yesterday's Lie, the season 2A finale!

Wow, this came up quick, huh?

Anyways...

What are you doing with all that, not-Luz?

(Also, cute photo of younger Luz. She had hair!)

That musical cue when not-Luz adjusted her hair was rather unnerving

Judging by Camila's reaction to that box being set out, she wasn't lying when she said she loved Luz's creativity

Freeing the rabbit from the trap did a lot to establish more of Camila's character. I'm glad we're finally getting more of her.

OH SHIT REAL LUZ IN THE MIRROR

"Are you sure this isn't gonna blow our faces off?" "Nope!"

That's a rather eclectic collection of ingredients for the door

I wonder if Amity also provided the abomination head

Group hug❤

There's the trailer shot

You only appear in reflections, huh? Interesting...

Jeez, Luz, priorities!

(Oh who am I kidding, the fact she's still thinking about her girlfriend is adorable)

I do love it when her accent comes through

Whoops, looks like wherever this is the magic of the Isles doesn't reach

Previously unmentioned dad whose face is obscured in the photo

GASP

Spider-Man moment

Oh, voice change in not-Luz!

Classic "I ain't goin' back, man!" moment

Also, it's beta Luz's bat!

"Monster Slayer Academia" I'm not entirely sure that doesn't actually exist...

"I will never understand anime..."😂😂😂

Oh, true form time!

Vee's gonna be a fan favorite, isn't she? (I ask, full well knowing the answer)

I mean, I've already seen plenty of Luca x Owl House fan art, so I imagine that may intensify

Luz seems to be quite understanding all things considered. I suppose all the people in the "Doppelganger isn't evil, actually" camp have been vindicated.

Oh, Eda

I don't think I like that camera...

So Gravesfield, Connecticut, huh?

Welp, there's a statue of a man that's probably Philip Wittebane

Oh, partially transformed Vee is gonna be irresistible to fanartists

Witch obsessed guy? Pamphlets? Hmm...

Wait, MARILYN?! As in Stan's ex?!

(I know she wasn't actually since the two shows don't take place in the same universe, but no way that nod wasn't deliberate)

"She tried to pay for a latte with a live raccoon" Eda I'm saying this in the nicest way possible: What the fuck

Those rats...buh

"BREAD OF WISDOM GRANTS US SPEECH! WE DESIRE MORE!"

Can't say I don't relate to Vee wrt confrontation

Luz has definitely had some...previous experiences with other kids. Creepy talking rats? Yes. Human high schoolers? No thank you.

Oh, fellow campers! Luz isn't the only one who had off-screen experiences.

That reading seemed...ominous

Right...contacts...

Side note: seems like that camp doesn't stomp out weirdness as thoroughly as previously speculated

Oh shit it's Sonic the Hedgehog! I mean Warden Wrath! I mean Roger Craig Smith!

I saw someone take issue with how Vee reacted to Luz running away to the Demon Realm, but considering her past experience and trauma, her reaction is understandable

Belos I don't care how much of a foxy grandpa you are, you fucking suck

"Skin's sure weird!"

She took the day off work to drive "Luz" to camp I just😭

Whether you think camp was a bad idea or not, Camila's a good mom

Oh dear, Sonic is a conspiracy bro

I guess we know who set up that camera. And the traps.

Oh, seems Eda didn't have elixir with her on one of her trips to the human realm...

"After watching a few Mew-tube videos I learned the truth!" Yup he's a conspiracy bro. Goddamnit, Sonic!

(I can rag on Sonic the Hedgehog all I want, I've been into the games since the Genesis days, well before most of y'all were even born)

Luz having a "BOI" moment

This guy definitely watches Alex Jones. Props to the TOH crew for teaching a new generation about these conspiracy creeps.

Vee is accustomed to a life on the run, but apparently not with Luz's determination and quick thinking.

Also, all this talk about being "outed?" Yeah I'm definitely seeing the trans allegory everyone's talking about.

Now Luz turns to the one person who can help

That "boop"❤ (Now we know where Luz gets it from)

Camila not believing all the Demon Realm stuff. Shocked. SHOCKED, I say.

Well shit, Camila's been a veterinarian all this time! Don't we all have egg on our faces!

It would explain how Luz is so good with animals

Sonic the Curator sure is something, huh

The scary thing is that there are people like him in real life. Worse, even.

Okay, I know this is a dire situation, but I am enamored with Camila's mom energy here. She's adorable.

Dude with a ponytail and cardinal on his shoulder to send the theorists in a tizzy. It'll be interesting to see how this all eventually comes together.

I just realized that that's a training wand on the table

And now Camila realizes this is no game

Further props to the TOH crew for making the antagonist of the episode a crackpot white dude. This is correct.

Yup, further trans allegory. Plus a nice example of a supportive-if-not-quite-understanding-everything parent.

And there's Camila going ham on a motherfucker. Turns out there was no lie in the "Two Truths and a Lie!" Rather, the lie was that there was a lie in the first place...My brain hurts.

Oh, she can appear in the rain. That's cool!

Now is time for Real Sad Hours

The way Camila is reacting...god...it hurts...

"Is this the only way I can touch you?" STOP😢

"Staying here was the best decision I ever made!" Uh oh...

That promise is totally not gonna come back up later in the most tragic, gutwrenching way possible. Nope. Nuh uh. No way that'll happen.

Dammit, Luz, not more lies! Oh, right. The episode title.

Her face really says it all.

Well, it wasn't quite the continuous pain train we convinced ourselves it was gonna be, but that ending? Ow. I'm glad Vee has the support she needs, but my heart hurts for the Nocedas. I really hope they can resolve the issues they clearly still have, because damn.

And now we get to chew on all that for the next however many months! Hooray! I knew I said I was ready for a hiatus, but it turns out I'm a big fat liar, because I'm not! Augh!

Well, I'll try to look on the bright side: At least my sleep schedule can normalize again? Also I can cancel my Sling subscription once 6-10 drop on D+. Neither DisneyNow nor Sling are optimal VOD experiences.

[mosylufanfic]

Color My World (just paint it with your love)

For the Killervibe Gift Swap, a gift for @ava-has-a-closet-murderboard. Eventually I hope to get everyone a gift but it’s going real slow, y’all!

You see in color when you meet your soulmate AU. (Also obviously Ronnie died the first time and didn't come back as Firestorm, sorry Ronnie.)

Title from the song Color My World by Petula Clark

Color My World (just paint it with your love)

When Ronnie died, the world went grey in an instant. 

Even as Caitlin screamed his name, she knew it was hopeless. Just the same as the world had exploded with color between one blink and the next the moment she'd met him, it reversed the moment his heart stopped beating.

-

For years, Caitlin assumed that Cisco saw the world in the same shades of grey as she did. She knew he was friendly and flirty and went on dates, and well - he was Cisco, after all. So she always expected to see him come rushing into the cortex one day, looking around at everything and seeing the colors after having met the person he was supposed to spend his life with.

So when she walked into his lab one day to find him comparing two apparently identical swatches, it was a surprise - but it wasn't.

"Cisco!" she cried, and he whirled to face her, stuffing both swatches behind his back. "Are you seeing in color?"

"Um, I - what? No. I was - comparing - um." He sagged. "Yes."

"You met your soulmate! Who is it? When can I meet them? What's their name?" She realized he wasn't looking as excited as people usually did in that first flush of color and love. "What's wrong?"

"I haven't met anyone new."

"Well, of course you have, you're seeing in color -"

"I met them years ago."

"Years? You've been seeing color all this time? You never said anything."

He nodded. "Sorry. Yeah."

"But when? And why didn't you - why aren't you - what happened?" Dramatic, overblown scenarios raced through her head, taken from cheesy cable movies with titles like "Soulmate to a Serial Killer.”

"Nothing happened, exactly. It's - " He looked away. "They're my soulmate, but I'm not theirs."

She goggled at him. You heard about those things, of course. Small percentages. Sad stories whispered behind hands. But knowing Cisco was one of them - "How do you know?"

"They'd already met their real soulmate when I met them."

She shook her head, attempting to wrap her head around it. "Are you sure? Have you told them? Have you talked about it at all?"

"Yes, I'm a hundred percent sure."

How could the universe be this cruel? Warm, laughing, loving Cisco, to be matched with someone who wasn't matched to him. To watch from the sidelines as they built a life with someone else. 

It was almost as horribly unfair as losing your soulmate. No - no. More unfair. She'd at least had a life with Ronnie, no matter how short it had been. Cisco never had that with his soulmate, and never would. 

"Why didn't you ever say anything? I always thought - "

"Because I didn't want you looking at me exactly the way you're looking at me right this very moment. Like I just told you my puppy has cancer."

She tried to rearrange her face. "I'm just -"

"Caitlin, it's fine. It happens." He shook his head a little. "I'm sorry I kept it from you."

"Who else knows?"

"Barry. And probably Iris."

"Has he met them?" A flush of - jealousy? she didn't know what to call it - washed up her throat.

"No, he doesn't even know who they are. Just that they exist." He shrugged and tossed the swatches on to the table. "Couldn't exactly keep it from him when we were designing suits together."

She said very quietly, "Did Ronnie know?"

He shook his head hard. "No, he didn't. No. Not even a suspicion. Look, I don't talk about it because there's nothing I can do about it, and there's nothing you can do about it, either. A soulmate is a soulmate, right? Even when they're not."

She reached to put her arm around his shoulder. "Cisco - "

Gently but firmly, he shrugged her hand away. "I've come to terms with it. It's just the way things are."

She swallowed hurt. "But you've been dating. Haven't you?" He had an app on his phone, and sometimes he would take it out and swipe through photos. She'd thought it was a regular app that just set you up on dates with other people who hadn't met their soulmate yet.

"It's a different kind of app. We all know the score. Nobody's on there to meet their soulmate. Just to find a good time."

"Is it just people who are - " She floundered. There was a term for people like Cisco, but to her mind, it was nasty and rude.

He said it anyway. "Third wheels?"

She made a face. It sounded even worse now that she knew it applied to him.

"Most of us, yeah. But there's a pretty good number of people who - uh - " He looked at her sidelong. "Who lost theirs."

"Oh." She couldn't imagine seeking anyone out after Ronnie. "Really?"

"Yup. I mean, they're not dead just because - well, anyway, if you ever wanna - you know. See the app. You can."

"Thank you,” she said. “But don't try to distract me. How long has it been?"

"A few years," he said. "Look, it's just a thing about me. Like having brown eyes and vibes and a rockin' fashion sense. Can you do me a solid, as a friend?"

"Anything. Of course."

"Let's never talk about this again."

Painted into a corner, she bit her lip. "Okay. If that's what you want."

"It's what I want."

Of course, she hadn't gotten the chance to ask the question that burned the most. Who was it? Who could possibly overlook Cisco? 

But she'd promised.

-

She thought about it, though. She thought about it a lot, in her cold bed, in her grey house with all the colors she couldn't see anymore. At her kitchen table, set for one. When she opened up her phone and looked at the last picture Ronnie had sent her, a selfie with a particularly gigantic donut.

In black and white, of course. Like everything else, all the pictures of him had drained of color when he died. It made everything sting worse. She'd seen his face in color from the beginning, but now she couldn't remember the exact shade of his eyes or the different tones of his hair.

She didn't ask Cisco anything more, but she did go down a rabbit hole of research. One-sided soulmate was the technical term they used in social science surveys. OSS for short. She looked at reams and reams of statistics, quantitative and qualitative and longitudinal studies. Some of the OSS's said they were happy, some were depressed, some simply accepted it. Surprisingly, the stats on their overall mental well-being weren't all that different from people who were with their soulmates, or still waiting to find them. 

Some one-sided soulmates spent their lives alone. But others dated and slept with and sometimes even married others like them.

She gave into curiosity and read the research on people who'd lost soulmates. She found the stats there very much the same. A little more depression, maybe, but there were a surprising amount of people who did just as the one-sided soulmates did - dating, sleeping with, marrying people they met. 

Sometimes those people even found a second soulmate. 

When that particular revelation popped up on her screen, she dropped a full cup of coffee and completely ruined her keyboard.

-

The day everything changed was just a regular day at first. The Flash and Vibe were out investigating a sketchy warehouse, and Caitlin was trying not to fret while reading yet another study on people who fell outside the soulmate norm. 

"Cisco!" she cried as Barry whooshed them into the cortex, almost doubled over trying to support his weight. "What happened?"

"Got my bell rung," he slurred. "Ow, dude, ow, gentle -  "

"The guy knocked him into a concrete pillar," Barry reported, settling Cisco onto the edge of the bed. 

"No, don’t lay him down. 'll take care of him. You go get changed." As he whooshed out, she gloved up quickly and checked Cisco's pupils. They were the same size, and he denied any nausea or dizziness, but she’d still have to monitor him for signs of a concussion. She set her penlight down and gasped.

"What?"

“You’re bleeding.”

He wiped his face and blood smeared across the back of his hand. “Just a bloody nose. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

She tsked and pressed a square of gauze to his nose, gently feeling its shape. It wasn’t broken. “Are your teeth okay? Your tongue?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t lean back! Just breathe through your mouth.” After holding it a few minutes, she checked, and indeed, the blood had stopped its flow. She let him straighten up. "How's your head?"

"Could use an aspirin."

"You got it." She turned away, but before she pulled her gloves off, she looked at the blood smeared over the fingertips and soaking into the gauze.

Against the light grey of her gloves and the white of the gauze, Cisco's blood showed scarlet.

-

At first, she thought she’d been mistaken. It had just been the blood, not anything else.

But then the sprinkles on the ice cream he brought her the next day showed up vividly blue and pink and orange against the rich brown of the treat. And the chips and guac she shared with him the day after that were pale yellow and brilliant green. 

Color seeped back into her world a little at a time, mostly following Cisco. It was so different than before, but so wonderful at the same time. She'd forgotten how vivid red could be, how lavender was so delicate, how green was so rich. Sometimes she would just sit and stare at whatever had lit up today.

He noticed, of course. "What's wrong?" he asked one day, as the sunlight filtering through the skylights in the cortex picked out rich highlights in his hair.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"You were staring."

"There was a - a bug on you. But it flew away," she added hastily as he swiped at his hair. 

It wasn’t like it had been with Ronnie. Then, it had been instantaneous, like a finger snap. Not this slow bloom of color, spreading outward from Cisco like watercolors soaking into paper, until every corner of the world had a different hue and shade. But Cisco wasn’t Ronnie, and she didn’t want him to be. 

She worried about it sometimes. Did this mean Ronnie hadn't been her soulmate? That she didn't love him anymore? But she knew he had, and she knew she did. She would never stop.

It was just that she was one of the lucky very few who got a second soulmate. 

And then the thought followed: what if Cisco's mystery soulmate was her?

She turned it over in her head, as carefully as an antique china plate. The facts fit. She had been with Ronnie when she and Cisco had met. She even remembered them telling him about their first meeting, over dinner or something. She struggled to remember his reaction, what he'd said or looked like, but couldn't. 

And when Ronnie had died and the color had drained from the world, she'd told him that too. 

She pressed her fingers to her eyes, watching the newly colorful starbursts behind her lids. "Oh, Cisco," she murmured to his past self. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I never saw. I know you couldn't tell me, but I wish I'd realized you were hurting."

Watching her with Ronnie must have been torture for him. Watching her after Ronnie died - that must have been torture in a different way, her loss of color confirming every day that he wasn't her soulmate. 

But it was going to be different now. If they were soulmates, he deserved to know.

And if they weren't - 

Her stomach pitched uneasily at the thought.

-

Her heart thundered in her chest as she made her way down to his lab. She'd kept this secret for a month now, clasped to her chest. And he'd kept it for years. This was going to change everything,

For the better?

She hoped.

He was head and shoulders into the souped-up treadmill Barry used to test his speed, a tool box open next to him. "Hey," he called out as she came in. She never could surprise him. Was that a soulmate thing, a Vibe thing, or just a Cisco thing?

"Hi," she said brightly, almost shrilly. She swallowed  hard and perched herself on the edge of his table, wiping her sweaty palms on her favorite skirt. "What are you working on?"

"Oh, just tuning this old girl up. How about you? What brings you down here?"

"Do I have to have a reason to come down here?"

He peered at her over his shoulder. "No, but you sure look like you do."

She wiped her palms again. "I was just thinking."

"Uhoh," he said cheerfully, turning back to the treadmill.

"About your soulmate."

Although he didn't say anything, all the cheer sucked itself out of the room.

"About, um, when you met them, and how long it's been, and -"

"Caitlin," he said in a heavy voice. "You said you wouldn't talk about this anymore."

"I know, I did, but I'm just curious - "

"You promised," he said. "You made me a promise."

"I - I did - "

He straightened up again, crossing his arms, resting the greasy wrench against his shoulder. His brows loomed heavy and serious. "So why the hell are you breaking it now?"

Okay, this wasn't broaching the subject like she'd thought it would. "You should put that wrench down," she said. "You're getting grease all over that shirt."

"Subject changed appreciated, but why - "

“And I like that shirt," she said. "I like that color on you. “It’s very flattering.”

He dropped the wrench on his foot.

When the clanging and the yelping and the jumping up and down and the checking that his foot wasn't broken had all died down, he wiped his greasy fingers on a rag, getting the fingers greasier. "So," he said levelly, "you met someone. That's great. That- that's awesome. What's their name?"

Oh. She hadn't expected this.

"Cisco," she said. "It's you."

He looked up, pain filling his eyes, and probably not from his foot. "No, it's not."

"It is," she insisted. Oh, wow, she hadn't expected him to be this stubborn about it.

"No," he said. "No. You met someone and you didn't realize, that's all. I don't know why you think it's me, because we've known each other for years, and it's never been me before." His voice cracked.

She reached out to take his hands. "But it is. I've been seeing in color for a month now. Just a little at first. But now it's everywhere. And it started with you. Cisco, it's you."

He shook his head slowly. "How?"

She shrugged. “I’ve been researching. Did you know it's a whole field in social science? The study of soulmates. Amatology. It's so much more complicated then everybody thinks, Cisco. We always hear how you know in the first moment, and it's just that one person, forever, and - and that's not accurate! You can have more than one. And you know somebody for years before they become your soulmate. And that's what happened to me. With you," she added firmly.

He was pressing his lips together. "It was - " he said, then stopped. Swallowed. Took a breath. "It was the first moment with me. The first color I saw was the gold of your engagement ring."

"Oh," she breathed. 

He swallowed again. There were tears in his eyes. "I've loved you for years, Caitlin, so I need you to tell me right now. Swear to me you're sure, and you're not screwing with me, and you - " His voice sank to a whisper. "And you absolutely know I'm your soulmate."

"I'm sure," she said. "I'm not screwing with you. I absolutely know that you're my soulmate, Cisco Ramon. And you know why? Because I don’t want it to be anybody but you."

He kissed her, hard, pulling her close. She had half a thought for her meticulously selected outfit, then mentally consigned it to the rag bin and kissed her soulmate back.

When they had to come up for air, he rested his forehead against hers. "I never wanted it to be anybody but you, either," he breathed.

"Even when - Ronnie?"

He nodded. "Because he made you happy. I wanted that more than anything else."

She traced the lines of his face, the arch of his brows, the curve of his lips. Dear and familiar and beautiful. "You're going to make me happy too."

FINIS

[themovieblogonline]

Alright, FROMily, let’s dive in! twenty-eight episodes later, FROM Season 3, Episode 8, titled “Thresholds,” finally delivers on some long-awaited answers we’ve been begging for. But like any good mystery show, each answer just piles on more questions, turning the town’s secrets into a deeper rabbit hole than ever. This episode served up a full plate of family drama, dark history, and wild revelations, with just a dash of time travel to keep us all on our toes. Let’s break down everything that went down in this thrilling chapter. Boyd is officially our Dad of the Year. In a tense and heartfelt moment, he sneaks his daughter-in-law Fatima out to a shed to shield her from the town’s suspicious stares. “Boyd’s got that dad energy dialed up to 11, protecting his own even if it means keeping Fatima locked up in a shed!” Fatima confesses to experiencing fits of rage she can’t explain, which Boyd instantly relates to his own worm incident back in Season 2. Is she infected, or is it something deeper? Boyd doesn’t know, but his commitment to her safety is clear—even if it means hiding her away from the world, family recipe style! https://youtu.be/kkKd9hDLHv8 Julie’s Time-Bending Adventure Then, in a twist that no one saw coming, we see Julie time traveling. Not only does she go back to Season 2’s pivotal moment with Boyd and the rope, but she’s actually the one who threw it to him! That’s right—Julie’s time-travel adventure connects her to a web of secrets even she doesn’t fully understand. Her journey shows us the deep ties between the town’s creepy dungeon, the caves, and the mysterious Angkooey kids, but we’re left wondering just how far her powers (or curse) will go. Victor Spills the Tea on the Boy in White Victor finally unloads his backstory, spilling secrets like he’s been bottling them up for three seasons. The Angkooey kids, he explains, were “born in the dark and died in the dark,” supposedly at the hands of the people they loved most. Victor recounts Christopher’s failed attempts to save them and the power of the mythical Faraway Tree, all while dropping hints that even more dark history might be around the corner. But just when it seems clear, the show throws a curveball, revealing that the Boy in White—not Jasper—was the one talking all along. It’s the kind of retcon that’s bound to stir up some fan controversy. Elgin’s Role in the Mystery Elgin remains our resident enigma. His weird attachment to his Polaroid, which seems to predict blood-soaked futures, only fuels the mystery. But it’s his creepy demeanor around Fatima that sends this episode’s chill factor through the roof. Not only does he snap another photo, but he also somehow persuades Fatima to go underground. And when she hesitates, he drags her to the cellar himself! Elgin’s growing influence over the town’s happenings could spell danger, and as the credits roll, we’re left wondering what dark secrets he’ll uncover next. Final Thoughts In “Thresholds,” FROM really leans into the mind-bending mystery it does best, finally answering some long-standing questions while sending us down even stranger paths. Boyd’s storyline had its heartfelt moments, Julie’s time-travel shocker is sure to stir up theories, and Victor’s backstory opens the door to a new level of intrigue in the town’s history. The time travel twist raises as many questions as it answers, but if there’s one thing fans know about this show, it’s that patience (and maybe a flowchart) is required. And with only a few episodes left, we’re all strapped in for the wild ride ahead. Read the full article

[bevioletskies]

spare me a little (of your love)

summary: Klavier always liked to express his love with flowers, so sending a beautiful bouquet to his boyfriend every now and then seemed like the obvious thing to do. However, there’s just one little problem - Apollo is very, very allergic to pollen.

word count: 5.3k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day two of seven (prompt: "flowers"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. My source for flower meanings can be found here. Fic title is from the song Spare Me a Little of Your Love by Fleetwood Mac.

“The language of...flowers?”

“Oui, oui, mon ami!” Athena chirped, nodding eagerly. “That’s just one of the many languages I speak, y’know.”

Apollo eyed her skeptically over the top of his laptop screen. “...right. Elaborate, please.”

“Well, you know how people usually give roses to express their love?” Athena said, leaning across the gap between their desks. She didn’t even blink when she accidentally knocked over Apollo’s calendar and pen holder in one fell swoop. Apollo, on the other hand, shot her an affronted glance that she deftly ignored. “Well, each flower actually has its own specific meaning. It even varies from color to color! Par exemple, white roses symbolize innocence, while yellow roses symbolize friendship.”

“That seems unnecessarily complicated,” Apollo remarked. “Don’t most flowers come with a card? Why can’t people just write their messages instead?”

They turned at the sound of a disappointed groan coming from the middle of the room. “You’re so unromantic, Polly,” Trucy complained, peeking at them from over the back of the couch. “I almost feel bad for Mr. Gavin!”

“Hey,” Apollo protested. “I can be - I-I’m romantic!”

“If you say so,” Athena giggled, poking him in the shoulder. Huffing, Apollo prodded her back. Athena reached for a rubber band, fully intending to escalate things. She lowered her projectile dejectedly when Apollo raised his hands in surrender; he had no interest in losing an eye today.

“Sunflowers and tulips are supposed to symbolize happiness, right?” Phoenix asked. “Those are pretty much the only flowers I really know, so.”

There was a long, uncomfortably drawn-out silence. “...Daddy, your ex-girlfriend’s name was Dahlia. Her real name was - is - Iris.”

“Oh...right,” Phoenix chuckled, only mildly embarrassed. “Speaking of, do you know what dahlias and irises mean, Athena?”

Athena’s eyes were practically sparkling now. “Oui! Dahlias symbolize elegance and dignity.” Phoenix made a face. “...but, they also symbolize dishonesty and betrayal.”

“That’s more like it,” Phoenix muttered under his breath. “And irises?”

“Faith, wisdom, that kinda thing,” Athena shrugged. She then paused. “Y’know, if you want some ideas on the kinds of flowers Mr. Edgeworth would like, I can make some - ”

“Nope, nope, I-I’m good,” Phoenix interrupted swiftly, his face reddening. He had a vase of daffodils sitting on his desk, which Edgeworth had sent to the office a few days ago. None of them believed Phoenix when he claimed they were purely intended for decoration. “So why the sudden interest in flowers, Apollo? Is this, er...is this about Gavin?”

“If you’re not talking about your prosecutor, sir, I’m not talking about mine,” Apollo said firmly, turning back to his laptop.

“Sure, except I think your prosecutor’s fair game when he picks you up from work most days,” Phoenix teased. His tone was eerily similar to Trucy’s. If Phoenix wasn’t both his boss and his sort-of stepfather, Apollo would’ve picked up a rubber band himself.

A few hours later, Apollo was locking up the office for the evening when he heard the roar of a familiar-sounding motorcycle coming up the street. He turned, biting back a smile as Klavier pulled up beside the sidewalk and turned off his engine. “Your bike really is as obnoxious as you are.”

Klavier removed his helmet, pouting. “Achtung, is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”

“It is for me,” Apollo replied, kissing him briefly. “Hi.”

“Hallo,” Klavier murmured against Apollo’s lips, grinning as he pulled away. “Dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Apollo said, reaching for Klavier’s spare helmet. “I’m feeling...pizza and all the cheesy garlic breadsticks. Or maybe we can just get cheesy garlic breadsticks.”

“As nice as that sounds, you need more vegetables than the little bits you get in your cup noodles, baby,” Klavier said, patting Apollo’s hip affectionately. “Pizza, breadsticks, and a side salad, ja?”

“Fine, fine,” Apollo grumbled, settling in behind Klavier. “Turn me into a rabbit, why don’t you? Buy me a bag of carrot sticks the next time we go to the grocery store. Stuff my mattress with straw and newspaper - ”

“And people think I’m the dramatic one,” Klavier lamented, shaking his head in amusement.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were sitting on the floor of Klavier’s living room, pleasantly stuffed with pizza and breadsticks and a mediocre amount of Greek salad (“I’m not a fan of olives, you know.” “Not surprising, since the color doesn’t work with your complexion.” “Klavier, I swear to - ”). A random made-for-TV movie was playing in the background on mute, though neither of them were particularly interested in watching it.

“How was work?” Apollo asked, taking a much-needed gulp of cold water. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to get the taste of garlic out of his mouth.

“Boring, unfortunately,” Klavier said with a grimace. “Herr Edgeworth didn’t have anything but paperwork to offer me. No trials, no investigations, nichts. You?”

“Same,” Apollo replied. “Mr. Wright’s mostly working with Athena this month, so they’re taking the big clients while I get stuck with the smaller cases. Not that I’m complaining, I mean - it’s a nice change from Khura’in. I don’t want every trial to feel like I’m going under, you know?”

“Nein, that would be terrible,” Klavier agreed. “Exciting, sure, but the stress wouldn’t be worth it. I already found a gray hair the other day, ach.”

Apollo snorted. “Just one? You should see mine - I’m gonna be completely gray by thirty-five at this rate.” He shuffled closer so he could snuggle up against Klavier’s side, letting his head drop to Klavier’s shoulder. “So...turns out, Athena knows all about the flower language thing. Figured she might.”

“Flower...language...thing?” Klavier echoed, confused. He then brightened. “Ah! From our video call with my mama the other day, ja? I didn’t know you were actually interested.”

“I wasn’t, not at first,” Apollo admitted, squeezing Klavier’s arm. “But...I want your parents to like me, and since she said she was taking an interest, I thought, y’know, why not look into it? And it sounds kinda...contrived, not gonna lie. But I guess it’s kinda sweet, too. Like a secret language between just two people.”

Klavier’s face softened. “Ja, exactly. My parents used to write love letters to each other when they were in school, so I think this is Mama’s way of starting a new tradition - buying Papa flowers so he can plant them in his garden. You should see our family estate in the summer, it’s absolutely stunning.”

“Sounds like it,” Apollo said, smiling. “Your parents’ lives sound so...peaceful. Baking, gardening, travelling...I know it’s a little early to start thinking about retirement, but still, they’re living the dream.”

“They’re not retired yet,” Klavier chuckled. “And stop making me feel like I’m dating an old man, bitte. You complaining about your back makes me feel like I have to start complaining about my back.”

Apollo hummed, tracing random patterns along Klavier’s forearm with his finger. He was pleasantly sleepy from a number of things - his long, if uneventful day of work, the amount of cheese and carbs he’d just consumed, and the warmth of Klavier’s skin against his. “Sorry we can’t all afford chiropractors and massage therapists, sheesh,” he teased, unable to hold back a yawn.

“Maybe we can get a massage together someday,” Klavier suggested, stretching luxuriously. “Ah, before I forget - since we were talking about my parents just now, they asked me the other day if it would be alright to text you and send you things, little gifts and whatnot.”

“Huh? They would do that?” Apollo exclaimed. “I only just met them, like, a week ago!”

“They’re a bit...much,” Klavier said carefully. “Even when I was in high school, every friend I brought home was a potential lover to them, you know? They wanted to know everything about them, to shower them with gifts and affection. Even when I started working, I would ask Papa if I could have some flowers from his garden - you know, an arrangement to thank Herr Edgeworth for giving me a raise, a bouquet for my manager when we got our first record deal - and it was always the same story. Achtung, it’s embarrassing, but they mean well. You don’t have to say ja if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d ask.”

“No, I - it’s okay, I’d love to get to know your parents more, I’m just surprised,” Apollo admitted. The thought of them liking him this easily made him both relieved and unnerved at the same time. “Should I, uh, get them something in return?”

“Nein, nein, let them spoil you.” Klavier cupped Apollo’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. “Just like I do.”

“Sap,” Apollo murmured, kissing him back.

_____

It was a sort of gradual thing, for the most part. Barely a day had gone by when Apollo found himself in a group text with Klavier’s parents; he quickly discovered how witty and sweet and whip-smart they both were. Klavier’s father sent gorgeous photos of his garden - and calling it a garden seemed almost too modest when it seemed to be the size of a soccer field - while Klavier’s mother sent book recommendations, even the occasional movie recommendation.

“I never thought I’d be at that point in my life where my boyfriend’s mother sends me three long paragraphs about how she ‘discovered’ the Legally Blonde musical, but here we are,” Apollo had mused to the other agency members.

“Did you tell her that Klavier reminds everyone of that song, the one that goes - ”

“No, Athena, I did not. I want her to like me, remember?”

Soon after that, gifts started to arrive. Apollo had requested they send them to the agency, given how little he trusted his apartment building’s security after they nearly let his cat escape not too long ago. Unfortunately, it was too late before he realized that sometimes, he trusted his co-workers - or more specifically, his sister - even less.

“Trucy, do you know who ate the last piece of pie? Y’know, the one I was saving for today, to celebrate the end of my trial?”

“...huh. No idea, sorry, Polly!”

“Wait - th-there’s graham crumbs on Mr. Hat, what the hell - ”

His sister’s betrayal aside, Apollo felt good about things, almost unusually good. He soon started texting Klavier’s parents just as frequently as he did his own mother, thanking them for their generosity whenever they sent the occasional box of pastries or discounted event tickets. They also exchanged anecdotes about Klavier, along with stories about their own lives. He even received celebratory emojis whenever he told them about his victories in court - over their son, no less.

“I’m starting to think they like you more than they like me,” Klavier had lamented, though he seemed pleased all the same.

Then, a month into their budding familial relationship, a problem arrived on Apollo’s desk in the form of a bouquet the size of his head.

“Ah-choo!”

Trucy and Athena, who had been standing by the latter’s desk, both startled at the sound. “Ay Dios mío!” Athena exclaimed, clutching her heart in shock. “Are you okay, Apollo? That was some sneeze. I thought we were having another earthquake!”

“Har, har,” Apollo said dryly, reaching for a tissue. “It’s just the - achoo - flowers, that’s all.”

“They’re beautiful - very classic,” Athena added, dropping into Apollo’s desk chair so she could get a closer look. “Red roses and white lilies, claro. Ooh, I see some red carnations and white chrysanthemums, too!”

“Well, I see a card,” Trucy said, plucking a small white notecard from between the leaves. “Let’s see what it says!”

“That’s for - achoo - me, thank you very much.” Apollo snatched the card out of her hands, then squinted through his watery eyes to read it. “I...oh. Klavier says his mom helped him make the arrangement, with flowers from his dad’s garden.”

“How sweet!” Trucy gushed, taking a moment to sniff them, inhaling deeply as her eyes drifted closed. “Ooh, and they smell amazing. Mr. Gavin is such a good - ”

“Ah-choo!” Apollo sniffled, wiping his nose carefully. “...dammit.”

“I didn’t know you were allergic to pollen, Apollo,” Phoenix commented; he was on the other side of the room, pouring himself a cup of tea. “You never had any problems with the flowers Edgeworth sent to m - I mean, to the office.”

“Maybe it’s a freshly-cut thing?” Athena guessed, ignoring Phoenix’s awkward laugh. “Or, y’know, some flowers are worse for allergies than others. Dahlias, for example, are the worst.” Phoenix made another face before turning back to what he was doing.

“You should tell him you’re allergic,” Trucy said, patting Apollo’s free hand in sympathy. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

“But…” Apollo hesitated. The others braced themselves, anticipating another sneeze. “...this is from Klavier and his parents, you know? I can put up with a sneeze or two if it makes them happy. He loves sending flowers, and his dad’s really into gardening, so...if I tell them, they’ll stop doing it, and they’ll be too understanding, and I - I can’t deal with that. The, uh, the niceness, I mean.”

“Poor you, having the sweetest in-laws in the world,” Athena teased, pouting exaggeratedly. Oh, the humanity, Widget added. Apollo would have glared at them both, had he not started sneezing again. “Como tú quieras, I guess.”

Hours later, when Klavier met Apollo at the agency, the sight of his face brightening when he saw the bouquet confirmed Apollo’s fears. “Ah, how wunderschön,” Klavier declared, beaming. “I was worried they wouldn’t hold up during delivery. Do you like them, liebe?”

“They’re beautiful,” Apollo said, as honest as he could be. “Thanks, Klavier. I, uh, I hope it didn’t take you too long to put together.”

“You know how picky I can be,” Klavier hummed, carefully drawing a carnation out of the vase between two practiced fingers and bringing it up to his nose to smell. “I don’t settle for anything less than perfekt.” He turned, smirking. “That’s why I’m dating you, after all.”

“Gross,” Apollo said, wrinkling his nose; the effect was ruined by his affectionate laughter. “Hey, is it okay if I press them after they’ve wilted? I was thinking I could keep ‘em in my journal as a nice little reminder.”

Klavier chuckled, reaching over to squeeze Apollo’s hand. “Of course, Forehead. They’re all yours, you don’t have to ask for my permission. And I’m sure Mama and Papa would be delighted to hear you’re planning to give Papa’s flowers a second life. We’ll have to send you more in the future, ja?”

“...ja,” Apollo said weakly, his heart sinking.

_____

The next bouquet arrived two weeks later, bigger and bolder than before. According to Athena, it consisted of pink and orange roses, pink lilies, and yellow alstroemeria. However, it seemed to be the handful of sunflowers that topped everything off that left Apollo’s nose running all day.

“I think the only sunflower I can stand to be around is my attorney’s badge,” Apollo had bemoaned.

After that came an arrangement of white daisies, red gerbera, and white limonium (or, as Trucy liked to call it - she liked practicing tongue twisters when she was bored - “linoleum”). Then green hydrangeas and Queen Anne’s lace, which admittedly wasn't so bad, followed by purple daisies and pink gerbera, which was very, very bad. Apollo did not like the fact that he was getting used to the taste of Benadryl. He did manage to get some reprieve when Klavier sent him a simple vase of pink peonies.

“They’re hypoallergenic,” Athena had informed him. “But...mein Gott, Apollo, just tell him already!”

“But if I do, i-it’s…” Apollo had gestured wildly, unable to find the right words. Athena and Trucy had exchanged glances, then shook their heads in eerily synchronized disappointment.

Pink carnations and pink alstroemeria, purple irises and white aster, yellow daisies and orange roses; Apollo was starting to think the Gavin family garden was endless. And while his journal had never looked prettier, every page decorated with carefully pressed petals, every other page detailed with a date and a description courtesy of Athena’s expertise, his nose had never looked worse, his skin pink and dry and irritated. He was getting too used to the smell of CeraVe as well.

Finally, a bouquet of red roses - thankfully, also hypoallergenic - arrived with Klavier himself. He seemed delighted to be at the agency while everyone else was present for once, chatting happily with Athena and marvelling at Trucy’s card tricks. He and Phoenix seemed awkward around each other, though Apollo supposed that was to be expected. Even now, they hesitated whenever Apollo brought the other one up.

“So what’re you doing here, Mr. Gavin?” Trucy asked after she’d successfully duped him three times in a row. Apollo had to stop her before she started charging him for it. “Is it date night?”

“Not exactly,” Klavier said, turning to Apollo. “I came here to ask you something in person, liebe.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not suspicious at all. What’s up?”

“I think it’s about time you meet my parents in person.” Klavier took both of Apollo’s hands in his, smiling hopefully. “So, if you’re ready...are you free this weekend? We could go to my family estate, spend the day - Mama would love to teach you how to make those puff pastries you like, and Papa wants to show you around the garden so you can see where all your wunderschön flowers came from.”

“I...oh.” Apollo’s face fell for a split second before he quickly regained his composure. “Sorry, Klav, that sounds incredible, but I-I was gonna stay with Mom this weekend. Maybe another time?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier replied, still smiling. While his smiles usually made Apollo feel warm and fuzzy, now all he was feeling was gnawing guilt. “Let me know when you have a free weekend, ja?”

“For sure,” Apollo promised, pecking him briefly on the cheek. “And thanks for the roses, even though I, uh, kinda ruined the occasion.”

“Ruined?” Klavier repeated, chuckling. “Ach, it’s no big deal, you’re busy. We have time, don’t we?”

“Of course!” Apollo exclaimed, far too loudly. Klavier didn’t seem to mind, though; he leaned down to kiss Apollo properly, humming all the while.

“Anyway, I should get going before Herr Edgeworth notices I’m not in my office,” Klavier said, reluctantly pulling away. The look on Phoenix's face suggested he knew that Edgeworth had figured it out long ago. “Auf Wiedersehen, süßer!”

The second Klavier left, Apollo let out the breath he’d been holding. He didn’t even need to look up to know the others were staring at him very judgmentally. “...I don’t wanna hear it.”

“You really shouldn’t lie to your boyfriend, Apollo,” Phoenix said gently; his voice had taken on the sort of “dad” tone that made Apollo feel even guiltier. “Er, that is, you shouldn’t lie to anyone, but you know what I mean. Are you really protecting his feelings by doing this?”

Sighing, Apollo collapsed into his desk chair, dropping his forehead to his desk with an audible thunk. “I know, I know. It was stupid from the start, but...I-I honestly wasn’t expecting him to send this many! I thought it’d be, y’know, for special occasions only, like every few months or whatever. Then I could deal with it, and he would never have to know. Not, like, just ‘cos he felt like it. Though I guess I really should’ve seen it coming, knowing him.”

“You really gotta tell him,” Trucy insisted. “Next time you see him, okay? Or else you’re never gonna say anything!”

“I will, I swear,” Apollo insisted, combing his fingers through his hair. He could feel more grays coming in by the second. “I have no interest in being the worst boyfriend ever, believe me.”

_____

It didn’t take long for Apollo to realize that while he was perfectly fine - or, at least, reasonably fine - with confrontation in the courtroom, he was very much not fine with confrontation in his personal life. The flower arrangements came less frequently now, and when they did, they seemed to be exclusively hypoallergenic. Klavier’s invitations, on the other hand, seemed more persistent.

“I don’t mean to push,” Klavier would say. “It’s just that exam week is coming up and, being professors and all, they’re going to be very busy soon. I was hoping we’d be able to spend some time with them before then.”

“Yeah, o-of course,” Apollo would reply, his stomach twisting every time, knowing full well he was about to turn him down again.

Another weekend went by, then another. There always seemed to be something, whether it was Apollo’s sudden frequent visits to Thalassa’s, Trucy’s sudden need for a magic show assistant, or that Apollo was just too tired to be good company. Eventually, Klavier seemed to simply stop asking. In fact, he seemed to stop asking him about anything at all.

“Do you wanna grab lunch?” Apollo had once asked Klavier while they were both packing up after the end of a lengthy trial.

“I don’t know.” Klavier had sounded tired, subdued; he refused to look Apollo in the eyes. “I think I’m just going to head back to the office and catch up on my emails. Take care, Herr Forehead.” He’d quickly swept out of the courtroom before Apollo could even say goodbye.

Apollo’s group text with his parents seemed to slow down, too, especially when it came to Klavier’s papa’s photos of his garden. Klavier’s mama, on the other hand, sent him short, stilted messages, now seemingly out of obligation instead of affection. Their near-radio silence, Apollo had to admit, was well-deserved. He knew he had to do something before it was too late, if it wasn’t already too late.

“I was surprised you wanted me to join you today,” Klavier said one morning as the two of them were taking a leisurely stroll around People Park, hand-in-hand. “Lately, I feel like I’ve been dating a ghost, achtung. We only ever see each other in court. Maybe at crime scenes, too, if we’re lucky.”

“And I’m surprised you agreed to come,” Apollo admitted. “I missed you, Klavier. Only...I, uh, I know that’s really my fault, not yours.”

“You do, do you?” Klavier sounded bitter. His grip on Apollo’s hand was looser than usual, like he was ready to pull away at any second, like he wanted to run. The thought made Apollo’s chest ache. “And here, I thought you were as oblivious as ever.”

“Hey,” Apollo protested, frowning. Then, he sighed. “No, you - you’re right. This is on me. Will you - I - listen, I have something for you, back at the office. Can we go get it before you head to work?”

Klavier nodded shortly. While his eyes had softened, his smile was still strained. “Ja, let’s go.”

Thankfully, the agency was empty when they got there, save for a certain something sitting patiently on Apollo’s desk. He set his bag down, then turned on all the lights, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage. “So these aren’t as nice as your dad’s, but, uh. This is for you...and your parents.”

“What do you - ah!” Klavier approached Apollo’s desk with wide, disbelieving eyes, his gaze fixated on the beautiful arrangement of white lilies, yellow tulips, and white orchids wrapped in white decorative tissue paper. “Apollo, these are...they’re lovely! Did you pick these out yourself?”

“Athena helped,” Apollo said, hovering nervously. “She said white lilies are for humility, yellow tulips can mean forgiveness, and white orchids symbolize strength. Fitting, since I wanted to...apologize. For being a horrible boyfriend.”

“I don’t know about ‘horrible’,” Klavier said, gently running a finger down the length of one of the orchids. “...but you have been distant. If you’re not actually interested in meeting my parents, or if you...if you want to end things, just say so, will you?” His voice cracked. “I might like a bit of drama every now and then, but not in my own life. Not in my own relationship.”

“What?! No, no, I-I don’t wanna end things at all!” Apollo exclaimed, his voice filling the room. He took a few deep, even breaths to calm himself. “Just...will you hear me out? Please?” Klavier nodded, though he refused to look at him. “I’m...I’m sorry for avoiding you and your parents. And before you ask...yes. I was doing it on purpose. It’s nothing that - none of you did anything wrong, okay? It’s me, i-it’s - it - I - ah - ”

Klavier turned on his heel, worried. “Apollo? Are you - ”

“Ah-choo!”

Klavier jumped. “Ach - Apollo?”

“I forgot there were asters in there,” Apollo grumbled, reaching for a tissue. He wasn’t sure which was redder now, his nose or his cheeks. “It’s - I - achoo - ”

“Apollo,” Klavier said slowly; if Apollo didn’t know any better, he would've thought he was trying not to laugh. “Are you, by chance...allergic to pollen?”

Apollo sniffed sharply. “...yes, dammit, yes! That’s literally what I’ve been trying to say - achoo - just now, until - achoo - my sinuses decided to - achoo - speak for me!” He was half-doubled over at this point, clenching a fistful of tissues in both hands.

“Baby, have you been rejecting my invitation to meet my parents because you’re allergic to all the flowers we’ve been sending you for the last several weeks?” Klavier sounded more incredulous than angry.

“...yes. Yes, I have, yes, I’m an idiot and an asshole and - achoo - I’m so sorry, Klavier, I - achoo - ”

“Bitte, say it, don’t spray it.” Klavier held up Apollo’s tissue box for him, keeping it - and Apollo himself - at a good distance. “Mein Gott, Apollo, I thought you wanted to break up with me! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?!”

It took another minute or so before Apollo finally stopped sneezing long enough to get a full sentence out. He sniffled again, wiping his nose completely clean. “...have you ever told, like, the tiniest lie to make someone happy, only for it to turn into a big...thing? And then you know you have to come clean, that it’s what you’re s’posed to do, but the thought of doing it makes you anxious, even if not doing it also makes you anxious, and then...it just...it, uh, it stays with you.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “Not that that’s an excuse, it’s just - that’s just what happened. I’m sorry, Klavier, I really am. I really do want to meet your parents, they’re so sweet and friendly a-and funny, I’m just...I’m bad at this. Really, really bad at this.”

Klavier sighed. Apollo held his breath, anticipating the worst. Then, Klavier wrapped him in his arms, letting out another sigh of relief. “I understand, liebe, and...I forgive you. Danke for explaining yourself.” He kissed the top of Apollo’s head. “Maybe we should’ve stuck to sending you pies, ja?”

Apollo laughed wetly. “I don’t know how you’re joking right now. That’s usually my job.” He lifted his head from Klavier’s chest to look up at him with a grateful smile. “I really did love the flowers, you know. When they weren’t attacking my respiratory system, that is.”

“Still, let’s not push it any further,” Klavier said wryly. “Now - two things, if you don’t mind. First, let me give you some moisturizer for your poor, poor nose. I’m not kissing you until I’m sure your skin won’t flake off in the process.”

“Ew, thanks for the gross visual,” Apollo grimaced. “And the second thing?”

Klavier smiled. “If you're alright with it, I’d like you to tell my parents what happened...in person.”

_____

The garden was just as beautiful as Apollo imagined it to be, given the dozens and dozens of photos he’d gotten from Klavier’s papa. It was full and lush and vibrant, with towering trees that provided ample shade, a beautiful gazebo with a built-in fireplace, a gorgeous two-tiered fish pond, and of course, a plethora of flowers, as far as they could see. Everything was especially beautiful, in Apollo’s opinion, from the relative safety of the conservatory.

“We’re not throwing you to the wolves, darling,” Klavier’s mama insisted, as if she were talking about actual wild animals and not her husband’s hobby. “We’ll stay in here for high tea so you can admire the garden at a safe distance, yes?”

“Yes, th-thank you,” Apollo stammered, relieved. “High tea?”

“Today’s menu is German chocolate scones and mini-sandwiches. With the crusts cut off for my fussy baby boy, of course,” she added, pinching Klavier’s cheek with a devious grin.

“Mama,” Klavier protested, embarrassed. His papa chuckled, settling into the chair across from his son; he still had a smudge of dirt on his nose. “I’m a grown man, achtung. I have my own health insurance and everything!”

“I really am sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Gavin,” Apollo said sincerely. Despite their kindness and generosity, he was still somewhat intimidated by them, by how tall and beautiful and well-spoken they were. As much as he didn’t want to think about his former boss, Apollo could see where he and Klavier got their good looks and charm from. “I wanted to make a good impression, but I, uh, I didn’t go about it the right way. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, but...I kept it from happening for a dumb reason, and it led to me hurting your feelings and Klavier’s feelings. I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven,” Klavier’s papa insisted, waving a hand. “Just promise you’ll stop by every now and then, alright? Our doors are open to you, Apollo. Consider us your parents, too, if you’d like.”

Apollo smiled softly. “I would, sir.”

“It’ll be a good, allergy-free time, I promise,” he continued with a teasing wink. “We’ll bake some bread, watch some home movies...are you interested in seeing - ach, what do the kids call it - Klavier’s ‘goth phase’?”

Apollo’s mouth dropped open. “...his what.”

“Papa, nein,” Klavier whined; he really did sound like a child now. “Maybe it was a mistake to bring you here, liebling.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Apollo said, his grin widening. “I would love to see Klavier’s goth phase. Did he dye his hair?”

“Oh, did he,” Klavier’s mama said slyly with the exasperated sigh of a parent who had dealt with too much. “It’s a miracle he managed to get back to blond at all.” She then got to her feet, smoothing out the front of her apron. “Anyway, Papa and I should go check on the scones now. You two sit tight, okay?” Before Apollo could blink, she’d dropped kisses on both his and Klavier’s foreheads, then disappeared down the hallway and into the kitchen, her husband in tow. He turned to look at Klavier, who was watching him nervously.

“I love them,” Apollo admitted. “They’re so sweet, Klav, they - stop looking at me like that, will you?”

“You can’t blame me for worrying,” Klavier said, kissing him briefly. “But I’m glad to hear it. Ich liebe dich, schatz.”

“Love you too, dork,” Apollo murmured against Klavier’s lips. “...so. Did you have a lip ring, or snake bites, or - ”

“Get out of my house,” Klavier huffed, pinching Apollo’s arm with an exaggerated pout.

“Hey! This isn’t your house, it’s your parents’ house, and they said their doors were open,” Apollo teased, laughing. Rolling his eyes, Klavier pulled Apollo into his arms, the two of them snuggled up on the loveseat. In the distance, they could see birds and butterflies fluttering among the flowers, a stray squirrel or two sniffing curiously at the edge of the fish pond. It was peaceful, serene. If it wasn't for the pollen, Apollo could see himself staying outside for hours at a time. “...but seriously, I’m looking forward to the video evidence.”

“I’m sure you are,” Klavier sighed, giving Apollo one last kiss before his parents returned with a large tray of sandwiches, scones, tea, and a vase with a single red rose for decoration - hypoallergenic, of course.

_____

a/n: Welcome to my second entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the fourth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Today, I have projected my allergies and anxiety onto Apollo, because that's what fanfiction is for, right? I hope y'all like my version of the Gavins; I've written them as cold and distant a couple of times, but I usually prefer to write them as warm and witty so that Klavier has a good support system in his life.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[scripttorture]

You likely don't follow Dream Smp but there was just a reveal that one person (Character A) is torturing another (Character B, former villain, now in prison) for info on necromancy while the warden of the prison gave CA the equipment to do it and is ignoring CB's screams for help. And half the fandom is trying to justify it with "oh, CB deserves it for threatening to kill a child, killing (1/2)

another child (who he then revived, not justifying /that/ though) and manipulating/abusing the latter." Not only that, but so many people are telling off anyone who pointing out how messed up it is (and don't worry, the story itself so far is showing that it's messed up and won't work) with "it's just fiction, get over it." Like I am legit concerned over how many people are claiming it's cathartic and the character deserves it for their actions. Rant over I guess (2/2) (Dream smp anon) And I forgot to add that this character was /already/ being tortured; he has been in complete solitary confinement for upwards of 2 months and is being starved) and was actively self-harming and destroying items in his cell in a bid to get the warden to come replace them (looking for social interactions, even if it was negative) and people STILL thought that wasn't "enough of a punishment"

-

I have no idea what this show? Comic? Piece of media is but I’m happy to give my opinion on the general situation and use of violence in fiction*.

 But I’m not here to take sides in fandom wars and the aim of this blog is not to tell people they can’t write about violence or abuse. It’s to make people think about how it’s used in stories and hopefully create something that’s more realistic and respectful to real survivors.

 At the end of the day the reason I’m interested in fiction is because it effects our perception of real survivors. When so much of our popular media is unrealistic in ways that demean survivors that has an effect. I want to remind people that while the violent acts we write about are fiction, similar acts are happening to real people today.

 Torture survivors are real. They’re human and they deserve respect.

 Here’s the thing Anon, the people you’re mad at are real too. And the characters that sparked this are not.

 There’s nothing wrong with having a strong emotional respond to fiction. There’s nothing wrong with getting frustrated with how pigheaded or outright bigoted fandom can be. But it is worth questioning whether responding to this kind of thing is worth it.

 Arguments over fictional characters can become extremely heated and result in real world harm. And so long as you’re engaging with stuff in a purely fictional context… well I think the chances of being dismissed, belittled etc are significantly higher. (Note however that being dismissed and belittled still happens when you’re dealing with torture in the real world.)

 This is not fair. That does not change other people’s responses or the cultural climate.

 I will be blunt; if you are writing and reading in English the majority of fans you deal with will be Western and white. I have personally found this intersection very likely to treat violence as something purely fictional. I have found them unlikely to consider torture as a reality unless they are prompted to.

 And from my side of things that prompting is often like dropping an anvil on someone’s foot during the conversation.

 Believe me I get it. It is infuriating to see real, deadly torture techniques interpreted as harmless. It is hurtful seeing torture victims blamed for their own suffering. This happens on the news as often as it does in fandom so the fact these feelings are being set off by something fictional doesn’t make a lot of difference. Because these arguments are used in the real world against real people.

 Seeing torture apologia touted as this weeks hot take is something you are allowed to be mad about. I’d be a hypocrite if I said otherwise.

 But educating other people is hard work and you are talking about a piece of media aimed at children. You are probably talking to children. If you’re a teenager yourself it might be hard to hear it put like that.

 It’s still true.

 If you really want to have these conversations in your fandom then you need to centre the reality. Underestimating or dismissing the damage solitary confinement and starvation do to people is serious because it props up real world systems of abuse. Because it justifies ‘tough’ sentences to level of isolation that leave people mutilated by their own hand, or unable to function in society. Or dead. Because it leads to doctors ‘prescribing’ diets used in death camps.

 Here’s the thing, talking about that reality to children is a fraught process. Especially when they’re children who don’t have any experience of seeing this stuff. And unless you’re their parent or teacher educating them is not your job.

 Sending them down an internet rabbit hole that leads to photos of real injuries, real torture, real mass graves… I think that has the potential to go very badly.

 Enjoying something and then discovering that the fandom is toxic is unpleasant. But my impression is that’s the problem here: the fandom interactions are leaving you feeling like shit.

 Disengage.

 You do not need the fandom to enjoy uh… whatever Dream smp is. You do not need their permission and if the fandom is a negative space for you, you are allowed to leave.

 If some of these people are your friends then by all means try to privately explain why their words hurt you and use this blog as a resource. But ask yourself how much you want to be friends first because that is a long painful process that might not work.

 Torture apologia is everywhere and fixing it is going to take decades.

 Accept that you can not control other people’s actions. Accept that some people will always be assholes.

 If seeing torture apologia hurts you then… you probably need to find a piece of media without torture to enjoy. Because apologia is so present that I think that’s the only way to completely avoid coming across it in fandom.

 Once again I understand. I’ve volunteered to be bombarded with this stuff every day. It is upsetting. It is also embedded our global culture and the popular media exported to every single nation on the planet.

 Constantly being confronted with it and stewing in that anger and hurt is unhealthy.

 Step back. Do something else for a while. Take a look at this post I made last week. You might find some of the advice on dealing with these feelings helpful.

 You can not make people care. Hopefully most of the people you’re talking to will grow and learn and become more compassionate people. But you can’t force that process.

 And you don’t have to deal with their bullshit while they’re still growing.

 Shouting at other people isn’t always helpful and it isn’t activism. If you want to do something constructive there are a lot of organisations that would gladly accept your money and your time.

 Here’s a couple that seem relevant:

Just Detention

Solitary Watch

The World Food Programme

Amnesty International

 I hope that helps. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*I asked a friend to explain what Dream Smp is and I’ll be honest I still don’t understand it. But hey I got an idea of the target audience which helps. Please don’t explain Minecraft to me any more let me rest.