#not thinking about anything at all whenever possible

[intromortal]

JEALOUS HEESEUNG BORDERLINE HATE FUCKS YOU !

PAIRING situationship!heeseung x f!reader

WARNINGS smut. mdni. p in v, manhandling, name calling, hair pulling, mean hee won't kiss you

Heeseung, all things considered, is a pretty chill and laid back guy. Not prone to big displays of jealousy, especially if anywhere public. Most of the time he's quietly laying back on a couch at a party across the room, watching you with a glint in his eyes as time and time again you reject yet another guy trying to sneak his way into your pants. There’s something about the way you so obediently glance his way every time someone tries to flirt you, how your expression slightly shifts when he slouches further into the soft brown cushions, legs spread almost as if to invite you over on his lap.

It’s been months since you started fucking, and as embarrassing as it feels to admit, you two haven't really put a label on what your... status actually is. You’re definitely more than friends–though you don't know if you would even consider Heeseung your friend in the first place–but you also don't believe you're anywhere close to being a thing yet. That litter sliver of something keeps you fucking hooked on Heeseung though, as bad for you as it is.

And he enjoys every second of it. How you're so loyal to him even when he doesn't give you any reason to be.

He’s confident you'll follow him around everywhere like a little lost puppy as long as he keeps feeding you whatever crumb you need; a gentle brush of his hand whenever he greets you, a soft compliment whispered in your ear before leaving you to find something to drink, a sweet forehead kiss when at the end of the night you've both found your way between the bedsheets. I’ve got it under control, he thinks.

Yet he can't find any explanation–one that he’d make peace with, that is–for the scorching rage that overcomes him whenever he sees you and your bestie walking hand in hand around campus. The slightest twitch to his eye when he notices how bright you seem to be around Jay, how hard you laugh at his jokes and how touchy you seem to be, shoving his shoulder away when he makes a stupid comment, yet letting your hand linger on the cotton of his shirt. There’s a different light coming from within you when he's around, and Heeseung fucking hates it with his entire being.

So really, he can't help it when he completely loses the cool he so desperately tries to maintain around you the one he catches jay staring way too long at your ass for it to be a mistake. There’s nothing Heeseung would have loved more than to beat him to a pulp, for looking at his girl like that.

Except you're not his girl–he hadn't even realized he really wanted you to be until then–so he can't do that. What he can do instead is take it out on your poor unsuspecting pussy though.

"You are such a nasty slut," he whispers against your lips as he pistons into your weeping cunt, ignoring every attempt you make to kiss him, biting down on your bottom lip when you don't catch the hint. "Walking around in that tight black skirt, for what?" It feels like he's spitting venom at you, a primal edge to his tone unlike anything you've ever heard from him. Despite everything, you'd be lying if you said it didn't make your pussy clamp even harder around him, trying to milk his girth for all it’s worth.

You take too long to reply for his liking, his hand digging almost hurtfully in your face to force you to look at him. "For. What?"

"I– fuck, i don't know."

He looks at you incredulously, like you must've gone dumb on his cock already, while his movements come to halt, despite your little cries and begs for him not to.

"Yes you fucking do," he spits, grabbing your thighs and flipping you over onto your knees. A little scream ripped out of you at the sudden motion as he manhandles you in whatever way he wants, paying no mind to any possible aching body part of yours or any discomfort you may feel. "Wore it to flaunt this ass around, didn't you? I know you did."

He lands a harsh smack on the skin of your bottom, kissing his teeth in annoyance when your entire body jerks forward, front collapsing on the bed. He eases his cock back into you in one thrust, setting a pace that is somehow faster than earlier. "Wanted Jay to bend you over like this, huh?"

"N-no! I– ngh." Your rebuttal is cut short by his hips slamming into yours in a harsher thrust than the previous, his thick hand pushing your head against the sheets, uncaring of all the drool that's dripping from your mouth, your eyes rolling into your skull. He plants one of his feet into the soft mattress, the new angle helping him reach so much deeper inside you as the hold on your hips becomes nearly unbearable, sure to leave a flashy bruise.

Good, he thinks. Let everyone know I own you.

"Oh, shut the fuck up." He grabs some of your hair, using it as leverage to fuck into you even harder, the mix of pain and pleasure so unbelievably delicious you don’t even know what to do with yourself if not just lay there and take it all. "That’s all a slut like you is good for anyway, shut her mouth and let me use her pretty pussy as I please."

[kithpendragon]

I want to fully endorse the fact that nobody but you can see any part of your internal world and that thoughts do not have any inherent moral value. And then (as it turns out) I'll write a quick overview on the difference between thinking and doing, and on choosing and cultivating thought patterns. May it benefit all that it may.

TLDR: You are not the random thoughts and nobody can see those. You are a whole person with the ability to choose what you do.

Your mind produces widely varied and creative thoughts, and also contains a filter that chooses which thoughts should inform the way you show up in the real world. That's what evolution has selected for us over the last billion or whatever years.

Not every thought is useful or true, and you don't have to endorse them all! You certainly don't have to *act* on all the thoughts, and choosing which thoughts you *should* act on is the work of morality.

I'll say it again but in a different shape:

There are NO "immoral thoughts", only ACTIONS that may produce perceived benefit and/or harm. You get to choose which thoughts eventually become actions.

We may become uncomfortable when some thoughts come up. That's GOOD! That feeling indicates our working ability to quickly detect potential harm to ourselves and others. That feeling is helping to keep you and those around you safe.

When a thought comes up and we find it uncomfortable we can examine it more closely. Then, if appropriate, we can choose to say to ourselves, "Well, that's obviously not something I should do!" Then release the thought back to wherever it came from, and be pleased that the filters are working as they should. The thought is allow to exist; you don't have to do anything else with it.

If you find yourself worrying at a particular thought like a loose tooth, ask yourself "Is this [behavior] useful?". A lot of times that can break the cycle.

Bonus: If you want some thoughts to come up more often, you can practice that! It helps to name the thought - assign it a short phrase or a simple sense impression that you can use to invoke it.[^1] Then simply name that thought as often as you can, and pay close attention to what it means to you. With time, you'll train the brain to think that thought more easily, and it can be there for you to choose from whenever you need it.

Of course, as with anything, if the presence/recurrence of certain thoughts is interfering with your ability to live your life well, it's time to talk to somebody about it.

Remember: you are not the random thoughts and nobody can see those. You are a whole person with the ability to choose what you do.

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

[^1] It occurs to me that the bit about naming thoughts with phrases or sense impressions could bear some examples.

A smooth stone in your pocket might remind you that breathing deeply helps calm the body down and can "smooth the way", such as it is.

Phrases like "Be happy", "Be strong", "Be safe" can remind us of feelings we want for ourselves and others, especially if you repeat them with a particular person firmly in mind.

The little toy on the desk can remind you not to take everything so seriously all the time.

The feeling of a necklace, bracelet, ring, &c. can remind you of a friend you love.

Get creative - the possibilities are endless!

here's a little reminder that no one can read your mind or see your "weird" or "bad" thoughts and daydreams! mind readers are not real, and your inner world is entirely private. your thoughts and daydreams are not embarrassing or bad, and they do not define your morality!

everyone who keeps saying shit like "sounds like something a mind reader would say" or "mind readers are real actually" i will eat you to death and enjoy every minute of it. not the time or place

[libraryofgage]

so i wrote this yesterday and now it's become a whole thing

basically: Steve is actually smart but nobody realized it until he just fixes their various STEM related problems

anyway this is Eddie's very first experience with how smart Steve Harrington actually is

also please don't call me out if my physics explanations are wrong. just suspend your disbelief, i'm begging you lmao

also also, if you see any typos, no you didn't

---

"You're going to fail my class, Munson."

"Gee, no need to sugarcoat it," Eddie mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets and avoiding Miss Chester's gaze. His eyes land on one of the posters behind her desk, a cat hanging off a tree branch. Maybe it would like to trade places.

Miss Chester sighs, looking pointedly at the desk closest to hers. She waits until Eddie sits on it, legs hanging over the edge. "I'm serious," she says. "You're going to fail, Eddie. I don't want you to, but there's just some...disconnect happening here."

He appreciates that she's not totally blaming him. Most of Eddie's other teachers would've been berating him for his laziness by now. This, among other things, is why Eddie likes her class even if he can't wrap his head around physics at all. "I don't know, Miss. It just doesn't make sense."

"So I'm noticing." Miss Chester leans back in her chair, her finger tapping against her desk. Eddie immediately recognizes it as the drum beat from a KISS song. "You know you'll probably be held back if you fail, right?"

"Not the first time."

Miss Chester waves off his words, looking deep in thought. "What do you think about tutoring? I think you'll do better in a one-on-one setting. If you understand the concepts better, I can start grading you based on the work you do with the tutor."

"It wouldn't be you?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly. He's not sure he wants some random geek tutoring him. Not that he has anything against geeks, of course, but he's never known one to talk in a way he can understand. They get all...technical and Eddie's eyes glaze over whenever he overhears their conversations.

"No, I don't have the time. But don't worry," Miss Chester says, smiling reassuringly before pulling her roster close and looking down the list. "The student I have in mind probably knows more than me, if I'm being honest. He should be able to answer any question you have."

"What student?"

"His name is Steve."

Of course, Eddie immediately thinks of that Steve. King Steve. Steve "The Hair" Harrington with his blinding smile that's always looked a little strained in Eddie's opinion.

He then dismisses Steve Harrington as a possibility and reviews the other kids named Steve at Hawkins High. There's Steve Paulson, Steve Meyers, and Steve Barns. Maybe it's Barns? He's the only one that Eddie could imagine being somewhat good at physics.

"Are you open to tutoring?" Miss Chester asks. "For one session, at least?"

"Yeah, sure, one session. Won't help, though."

Miss Chester smiles like she knows something Eddie doesn't. Which, to be fair, she does. She knows a lot more than Eddie in terms of physics, at least. "I'll set it up. Just come by tomorrow after school."

--------

On his first day at Hawkins High, Steve realized two things.

One, his parents weren't kidding when they'd said public school would be vastly different from the private group tutoring he'd received up to that point.

Two, if he wanted to have a good high school experience, he needed to be cool. And being cool, it seemed, meant not being smart. He didn't need to be dumb, but he couldn't breeze through his classes, either.

He's done a good job of it so far. He's bored beyond reason in most of his classes, sure, but he's also popular. Nobody bothers him or tries to copy off of him, and it's great. He can even swallow down the weird surge of frustration and annoyance and guilt whenever his classmates assume he's too dumb to be a good project partner, or when his parents ask why he isn't enrolled in AP classes, or when his teachers give him confused looks after he aces tests for a unit he seemingly didn't pay attention to.

Anyway, he almost rejected Miss Chester's request to tutor a student from a different class period. He was just about to say he didn't have the time when she leveled him with a look so profoundly hopeful that he just couldn't. So, Steve said yes and now he's hesitating outside the physics classroom.

What if the student inside uses this against him? Steve thinks he could play it off, maybe convince his friends that the kid is lying, but he's not sure. Nothing dire would happen, but Steve would have to reorient himself to a new place on the social ladder, and that sounds exhausting.

"Just get it over with," he mumbles. Then, before he can chicken out and just leave the other student hanging, he opens the door and steps into the classroom.

Miss Chester isn't there. Steve knew she wouldn't be. She'd said something about a department meeting that would take her time but leave them with the classroom to themselves.

The only other person in the room is Eddie Munson, bent over a notebook and furiously scribbling on the page. He looks up when the door opens and freezes at the sight of Steve. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Eddie breaks the silence by asking, "What, get lost on your way to the locker room, Harrington?"

Steve blinks, frowns slightly, and takes a deep breath. Okay. Fine. Eddie Munson it is. "Nope. Miss Chester asked me to tutor you," he says, because that's the only reason another student would be in this room after school has let out.

Eddie laughs. He nearly falls out of his chair with how hard he laughs. He's wheezing and clutching the edges of the desk by the time Steve moves another desk to face him and sits down across from him. "Are you done, Munson?" he asks.

"Holy shit, you're serious," Eddie says, his voice slightly strained and his face red from laughing. "No fucking way Steve Harrington is here to tutor me in physics. You probably don't even know what two plus two is!"

"It's four. Do you know what 12 times 40 is?" Steve asks, watching as Eddie blinks.

"I'm not a fucking calculator, man."

"No, you're not. It's 480, by the way."

"You could've just memorized that."

Steve sighs and reaches into his bag, digging around some before pulling a calculator out. He places it on Eddie's desk and says, "Ask me something."

Eddie looks at him like he's grown a second head but still pulls the calculator closer. "1,239 plus 378."

"1,617."

He watches Eddie use the calculator, feeling smug when his face twists into confused disbelief. He then puts the calculator down and frowns at Steve. "So you can add, big whoop. Doesn't mean you can teach me shit about physics."

"Won't know until we try," Steve says, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin in his palm. "So, what don't you get?"

"...All of it. Just assume I don't know shit."

"You don't know Newton's laws?"

Eddie snorts, looking back down at his notebook. "There's that motion one and the reaction one," he says.

"Right. Newton's first law and his third. What about the second?"

"It's just...some equation or some shit."

Okay, Steve is starting to get an idea of where things stand. He thinks for a moment before asking, "What kind of stuff do you like?"

"What?"

"What do you like?"

Eddie looks so shocked by the question that he doesn't really think before answering, "Heavy metal. And, uh, D&D, too."

Steve knows heavy metal is music, and he could work with that but the D&D Eddie mentioned might be better. "What does it involve? The D&D?"

"It's a fantasy role playing game. Like, using your imagination to go on adventures with friends and stuff. Needs dice to work."

Oh. Perfect. "Do you have dice with you?" Steve asks. After another brief pause, Eddie nods and pulls one out of his pocket. He passes it over and watches as Steve turns it between his fingers. "Oh, an icosahedron. Cool."

"A what?"

"Icosahedron," Steve says, looking at Eddie. "It just means a twenty-sided polyhedron."

Eddie still looks confused, and Steve is about to explain it again when Eddie says, "Just call it a D20, dude."

"Oh. Sure. Anyway, let's use this," Steve says, rolling it between his fingers before letting it clatter to the desk. It bounces a few times before settling, a 17 facing up. "Do you know what made it stop moving?"

"The desk. I'm not an idiot, Harrington."

"I didn't say you were, Munson," Steve replies, leaning back slightly. "Just...yes, the desk stopped it. This is Newton's first law. If the desk wasn't there, it would have kept falling until it hit the floor. It stopped bouncing because it lost power each time it hit the desk. An object, the D20, will stay in motion, falling, unless acted upon by another force, the desk."

"That...kinda made sense," Eddie says, blinking a few times.

"Great!" Steve says, unable to help the bright smile at knowing Eddie understood him. "Okay, for the second law, the equation is mass times acceleration equals force. Basically, the movement of an object depends on how much it weighs and how much force you apply."

"Aaaand ya lost me," Eddie says.

"Okay, uh, you fight things in that game, right?"

"Yeah, kind of the whole point."

"Right, yeah, and the stuff you fight comes in different sizes, right?"

"Well, an orc isn't gonna be as big as a dragon, is it?"

Steve isn't really sure what an orc is, but he nods anyway. "Right. So if you want to move a dragon, you need to land a stronger hit than you would need for an orc."

"Duh. You're not gonna fell a dragon with a basic cantrip."

"Not sure what that is, but yeah. For this example, moving, or defeating, an object, or a dragon that weighs more than an orc, relies on how much force you apply, which is the strength you use."

"Oh. So, because an orc weighs less, I don't need as much force to defeat it," Eddie says, grinning as he fidgets with his pencil. "This doesn't really sound like math, though."

Steve shrugs. "We'll get to the math part later. Right now is basics. You need to understand those to do more complicated stuff. So, the third law, this is the action-reaction law. Music might be better for it. What happens when you strum a guitar?"

"It...makes a sound. Because it's an instrument."

"Well, yeah, but do you understand how the sound is being made."

"By...strumming it?"

"Yeah, that's part of it. Sounds are vibrations in the air that we can understand. If you touch your throat while talking, you'll feel your voice box, your larynx, vibrate to make the sound of you talking."

He waits as Eddie does exactly that. While holding his fingers to his throat, Eddie says, "Didn't know it was called a larynx. Oh, fuck, yeah, there are vibrations."

Steve nods, waiting patiently as Eddie hums for a few minutes before looking back at him. "So, vibrations. Instruments make sound because playing them causes vibrations. When you strum a guitar, the strings rapidly move back and forth, and that movement is translated into notes."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah, I'm following you."

"So, the action of strumming a guitar creates the reaction of the strings vibrating. That action of the strings vibrating creates the reaction of air rippling, and those ripples create the reaction of audible noise. Did that make sense?"

"Yeah. It did," Eddie says, his voice soft as he stares at Steve like he's really seeing him for the first time.

Steve shifts uncomfortably, unused to this aspect of himself being known so well by someone at school. He's almost tempted to end things now and apologize to Miss Chester for walking out halfway through a tutoring session. Steve is practicing the apology in his head when Eddie says, "Hey, by the way, sorry for earlier."

"What?" Steve asks, trying to blink away his confusion and failing.

"You know, earlier, when I laughed at you? Pretty shitty of me to do. So, yeah, I'm sorry."

"Oh." Steve stares at Eddie for a few seconds before his shoulders relax. "It's fine. I'm not exactly known for being smart."

"Why not?"

"It's just...easier to let people think I'm dumb. Most of our classmates look at me and think I'm just, you know, a typical jock. They don't expect more from me than that, and I don't expect them to look any deeper."

"Does anyone else know, though?"

"My parents and the teachers. And you."

"Well, don't worry, big boy. Your secret's safe with me."

"Big boy?"

"Don't like it? Would you prefer Stevie?" Eddie asks, grinning as he leans in and exaggeratedly waggles his eyebrows at Steve.

Steve can't help snorting at the sight. "Whatever. Just call me what you want, Eddie," he says.

He tries to ignore the weird swooping in his stomach when Eddie's smile gets wider and he says, "You better not regret it, Stevie."

[komoriiis]

May i pls request fem!reader x sevika? I've been fallen for her since 3 years ago and after her scenes in ep 2 i was so in awe and giddy i need to read more of her 😭🤲

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀 ( 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 ) — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖞𝖕�� :: bullet points / short drabble

˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝐤𝖔𝖗𝖎 :: im absolutely in love with sevika too so this was really good timing!! ive been wanting to write for her and viktor for the longest time :3 i hope youre okay with me doing general hcs, i didnt know if you wanted anything specific so i just did this 😋 also, sorry if she turned out ooc, this is my first time writing for arcane characters 😓

[ masterlists ]

ᥫ᭡ sevika will be the most protective gf ever—anywhere you go, she’ll always be 2 steps behind looking out for you!

ᥫ᭡ its not that she doesn’t think you can take care of yourself, but its just who she is. she gets worried, especially if you’re wandering around in the undercity

ᥫ᭡ she will 100% be your biggest hype woman. whenever you wear something new for date night, you can see her pupils dilating when looking at you with a small smirk on her face

ᥫ᭡ rather than hand holding i think she would be someone to wrap her arms around your waist, almost possessive in a way. when shes not doing that though, she would want you to have a hand holding onto her biceps

ᥫ᭡ will never ever let you tag along with anything work related. shes pretty dead set on separating you with her dirty work, for your safety

ᥫ᭡ some nights when it gets bad, she just wants you to hold her. don’t say anything. don’t ask her questions. just be with her until the next morning

ᥫ᭡ she loves to bring you back little trinkets or accessories from her missions that she thinks you’ll like / will look good on you. she would never admit it, but her heart always skips a beat when she sees you wearing something that she got for you herself

ᥫ᭡ lives for teasing/banter arguments. she finds it so hot when youre all riled up and mad at her, because she knows that she’ll make it up to you later anyways ( WHAAAT 😦 )

ᥫ᭡ she has insane mood swings on her period. one time, she accidentally snapped at you while you were trying to tell her about your day, and she felt so incredibly shitty for like 2 months

ᥫ᭡ sometimes, she gets nightmares of you dying in her arms due to an enforcer attack. its a reoccurring dream, and whenever she jolts awake in a cold sweat, you reassure her that you’re still there. you’re alive, and you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

ᥫ᭡ sevika finds it adorable when you give her little nicknames. “vika”, “sevi” , “baby” , and “big mama” ( hehe ) are her favorites

ᥫ᭡ tries to have a date night at least once every two weeks. of course she would like it if it happened more often, but with her schedule its just not possible. when you two do go on dates though, she makes sure to go all out and make it the most enjoyable experience for you

ᥫ᭡ her coworkers are so surprised at how soft she has gotten because of you. she has something to fight for other than zaun now, and once they get their promised land then she’ll finally settle down with you and live through the rest with you by her side

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐢𝐢𝐬. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 !

[planetpedri]

Silver soul — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: When banter leads to an interesting chain of events.

Word count: 1.6k

Disclaimer/s: banter + fluff + light angst

A/N: i unfortunately did change the initial summary + plot but i’m too lazy to change the name

Annoyance seeped through your expression as your head turned to face Pedri’s. The two of you had been the last ones left outside when your friends has moved inside to do various things. You were expecting Pedri to leave along with them, wanting your moment of peace. Unfortunately, he was not going anywhere.

“You couldn’t possibly let me have any peace, could you?” Your eyes narrowed into slits as you shuffled in your seat, bringing your knees to your chest.

The fireplace casted a warm glow across the Tenerife man, making his face adorn a warm color that enunciated his features. You hated how good he looked, it make him so much harder to hate.

Pedri’s mouth forms a lazy grin. “What? You don’t appreciate my company?” He knew what to say to set you off, loving the way your face scrunched in annoyance.

“Not even in the slightest.”

His low chuckle made you even more agitated. He was so likable and charming that it pissed you off, not to mention how easy conversations seemed to flow with him. Every time you spoke, hours would pass without you even realizing.

Pedri leaned back in his chair, head tilted to the side as he looked at your stoic face as you watched the flames dance. “Ay, guapa.” His words catch your attention, your head snapping in his direction. [beautiful]

“Ay, cabez��n.” You shoot back, refusing to give into his flirtatious compliment. [big head]

The raven haired man laughed, his head falling forward, shaking slightly. “Okay, I was being nice and you just want to hurt me.”

Your shoulders move up and down, shrugging. “When will you realize you flirting isn’t going to make me dislike you any less?” You tug at the corners of your blanket to lift them over your shoulders to grow more comfortable.

“You know what I think?” Pedri asks, his eyes never leaving you, not even when you give him a hard, challenging glare. “I think you secretly like it.”

A laugh of disbelief leaves your lips, “and what makes you think that?”

Grinning wider, Pedri leans over in his chair. His elbows prop up on the armrest and he holds his head up with his palms. “You may not realize it, but your lips twitch every time I do.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

Pedri shakes his head, “no…” He was about to get real risky with what he says next, “but you can try and make me.”

Oh! Right, right. Funny.

Your lips pull into a thin line, eyes darting around his face. Is he being serious right now? But Pedri doesn’t look like he’s joking, his stupid smirk was gone, a serious look overtaking his face. He was.

“And how do you suppose I do that?” You nervously—wait. Nervous? Why were you nervous? Your knee had began to bounce, something that you did whenever you got anxious and, or nervous.

You were not anxious right now.

Your breathing slowed when Pedri’s gaze fell to your lips. He doesn’t say anything, just hums. He knew exactly what he was doing and you shake your head.

“Yeah, no.” You cough, turning away from him to look at the fire again. Your face was burning and it wasn’t because of the heat from the fire.

Pedri cracked up, finding it ever so amusing how flustered you’d gotten. He never realized how easy it would be to get you riled up like that.

And just like that, you’d stopped talking to Pedri. Completely. And every second of it was hell. All you could think about was his beautiful brown eyes that had a strong orange hue, the way his hair fell so softly on his head, the way he smiled with his teeth. It was so frustrating.

Pedri felt your absence the first time you didn’t show up to a gathering. Even when you didn’t come to a home game. Even when you said you hated him, you showed up periodically every three games.

He texted you, you didn’t respond. He asked your friends about you, they simply gave a, ‘she’s busy’ in response, but he noticed the slight questioning in their tone—like they didn’t believe what they were saying.

So, at his whits end, he stood outside your door in the rain. Pounding on the oak wood door, he progressingly got harsher and harsher until you finally swung it open.

“What—oh.” You falter, stepping back in surprise. “Pedri.”

“Yeah, Pedri. The guy you’ve avoided like I had a disease or something?” He snapped tightly, his hands moving as he spoke in frustration. “Tell me what I did wrong!”

You were taken aback, to say the least. You didn’t think your absence would affect him this much. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You answer quietly. “Are you cold?”

Pedri was befuddled. Cold? Was this your way of avoiding conversation? He was, of course. “What do you think? I’m drenched.”

“Come inside.” You step out of the way, motioning for him to come inside of your house.

Pedri’s mouth clamps shut. He strides inside and shrugs off his hoodie, leaving him clad in a white tee shirt that was still damp from the water that seeped through.

He’d never been to your house. It was exactly like he pictured. Neat, pops of color, random paraphernalia of the things you liked—yet subtle enough that nobody would know unless they liked those things or knew you well enough. It was all so.. you. He smiled a little.

“I can get you a blanket, coffee, tea? I don’t want you to get sick.” You were already moving toward the couch a few feet away, reaching for one.

Shaking his head, Pedri grips your arm, stopping you effectively. You glance back at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No. Stop stalling. Talk to me.”

Your eyes drift to his hand, ignoring the way his touch sent a bolt of electricity up your arm. “I have been busy. Not really feeling all the socializing. It’s not you.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it isn’t true.” Pedri demands, dropping his hand to give you the stage. His arms cross and he cocks his head to the side with a hard stare.

You play with the hem of your sleeve, reluctantly looking at him. “It’s not you.”

Confusion flashes across his face. “Then what is it?”

“It’s me!” You exclaim, rubbing your face. “It’s my complete and utter lack of ability to get you out of my head! It’s the way I can’t stop thinking about you! It is—“ You turn around and take a breath. “My head makes it so difficult to be around you.”

Pedri listens intently, ignoring his urge to reach out and shut you up. His heart races and his head pounds and God he just wanted to kiss you!

He says your name, softly. But you weren’t finished.

“—Not to mention, I want to forget you so bad and I can’t! You have always been annoying but it’s reaching an insufferable level!”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“If you think this is one sided, you are dead wrong.” And that was all he had to say. He wasn’t going to waste your time and ramble about how deeply he felt your absence, or how he couldn’t sleep because your face was the last thing he pictured when he closes his eyes and he didn’t want it to go away.

Your mouth parts, your breath hitching in your throat. Words fail your tongue. When you can’t get anything out, your shoulders slump. Okay. Okay! This was good. Right?

He says your name again, snapping his fingers in your face. Blinking, you take a long breath, a slightly confused smile overtaking your lips. “Wow. Alright. Oh. Now what.”

“Now, I ask if I can have that blanket because I’m pretty fucking cold.” He says through a breathy laugh.

Your head dips when you chuckle, “yeah, yeah. You can sit on the couch. I’ll make you tea, too. You’ll probably catch a cold.”

You were so caring, even when you pretended you couldn’t stand him. You were caring all the time, Pedri supposed that was what he loved so much about you.

When you were back with the blanket and tea in hand, you plop down beside him. “I haven’t been busy. I’ve been miserable.” You confess, leaning your head back against the couch cushion with a loose smile.

“I’ve been miserable too.” Pedri admits, setting the mug aside and leans back as well. When he’s facing you, he takes the moment of silence to scan your face. Every small feature, he took in. Burned it into his brain.

Your stomach hurt with his examination because with it came the softest, most endearing smile. “Are you always going to creepy-stare at me? Or will this end after tonight?”

“Always.” Pedri shrugs, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing your soft skin. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t make me have to get upset at you, I hated every second of it.”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut to sink in his every touch. “Never again.”

“And—“

“Can I shut you up?”

The call back to the conversation that happened only weeks ago had Pedri laughing. “Yes.” Without another word, your lips pressed to his.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you want to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @ar4ujos @joaoflms @gadriezmannsgirl @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

[suguru-getos]

“i have scars in my hands from touching certain people” — cult leader! geto x monkey! F->reader

genre: fluff, angst, comfort, budding building relationships between sugu and the reader. taunting, trauma. it’s a mix of everything really. (mentions of gore & killings, mentions of locking up the reader, suguru has caged her basically but he’s very suguru-like about it :3)

the lunch was so eerie, quiet, but so unlike the geto estate’s normal day to day. suguru was sitting eating quietly at the head’s chair, to his right side was mimiko, nanako to the left, manami, miguel, larue and a few others he proudly calls family seated. the farthest from him was you. and somehow the nearest — for you sat right in front of him at the other leader chair. you’re not one to talk anyways, despite the silence being deadly.

suguru found you a few months ago, when his temper got the better off of him on an italy trip with his dearest precious angelic girls. your friends were taking a seat right behind, the dinner place otherwise secluded. maybe it was how loud you all were, or perhaps, how disrespectful your friends was when the waiter asked her to tone it down a little upon suguru’s urgency. he was here for some peace and quiet. it was liberating as is in his head to tolerate monkeys around, breathing, heart beating against their chests & living… he couldn’t help but kill everyone.

the sound of bodies trampled by something you can’t see, some screams— you were luckily in the rest room & you didn’t dare come out. suguru knew better though, he knew you were here. his eyes had lingered a little too long when you came inside this place anyway. he gets up, eyes clinging together in his usual smile, headpatting nanako. “i will check if there are others.” the girls wished their geto sama wasn’t so temperamental all the time. but whenever suguru was amongst monkeys, it seemed like the infinite, ocean-like patience he harbors fades & evaporates from within him. she sighs, watching suguru walk towards the entrance of the restroom. a few more screams… “happy birthday to me.” she scoffs, looking down.

when it came down to you, a terrified little girl leaning against the restroom corner of one of the stalls, eyes closed, ears covered, he knew he might just make an exception. maybe it was to show mimiko & nanako that he didn’t kill them all & he is working on his actions… maybe he just knew you’d have nowhere to go, all your companions & friends were dead. he purses his lips, eyes blearing hard in annoyance. "get up." you still remember the command that ran through your skin. you get up, trying not to cry at the man, big and looming, a feet taller than you, his face smeared in blood. "please don't kill me. i wouldn't say anything..." you manage to croak, voice hoarse at the panic it brings you.

"i wouldn't. shut up." he seethes, a warning pretty clear the way your shoulders slump and you quiver. you don't want to make sure you die right here.

...the rest is history, suguru took you to the room in italy, the girls just mingled with you within a few days. then, he took you to japan. you had work, you had a life, but you didn't want to say anything after you saw your friends lifeless. you hated geto suguru, but your silence was all you could possibly do.

it's been a few months to this now, eventually, you're at a stage where things have changed. your family thinks you have 'moved in' with your boyfriend, you had obviously resigned from work and on being asked to serve your notice or pay fine, suguru slapped the fine on their faces. you just exist in this estate when geto sama is on his meetings, when the girls spend time learning, when miguel and larue are on missions... sometimes you take out time out of your already free day to write. but there's nothing else to your routine except being suguru's monkey pet.

you are traversing through your thoughts, and suguru clears his throat to snap you back to reality. "y/n. you didn't answer the question asked." oh shit- "sorry- what question?" "do you like the food?" he asks, observant, and ever so keen to know things about you. you have no idea why he does that. you have known he hates humans. the only people he has tolerated is your brother and your mom. when they came to 'visit' you. he played the boyfriend bit quite well, also. "yeah, s' great." you hum, taking another disinterested bite.

"really? i didn't like the spice level, you like spices too, don't you?" he hits you with another question. manami and larue are gazing at you, they don't know what kinda mood suguru is in at the moment. there are times he just locks you up for hours because he doesn't wish to contaminate the house with monkey stench. you don't want it to be one of those days either.

"i like it." you answered, not sure what is it that he wishes to hear.

suguru has also been like a quiet cat in the last few months. he just observes you, watches you keenly, accompanies you on your walks and has attached himself to a fleeting hope that you would eventually open up to him. you haven't asked him anything about himself, or ever expressed your discomfort. you don't want to talk about the instances where you and him have almost kissed for several times. or when you seek him out with sillies like, "do you want to take a walk? do you want to go and eat ice cream? do you wanna watch a movie?" there are moments with suguru which almost feel a little too domesticated. its not all bad.

there are moments when he clutches at your wrist and you feel the burn seep through your entire body, and then you hate yourself for it. there are moments you hate him and wish for him to die when you remember it's your friend's birthday and she's no more. there are a total of good and bad and even which you can't possibly count. there are times suguru hugs you for good mornings and then there are times he doesn't want to see your face. you both are struggling to accept each other.

"last time this was made, you didn't take a bite." he raises a brow. "so i made sure they had something you liked for store." he crosses his arms. raising a brow. oh goodness.. suguru geto and his fierce memory. "i like it now." you scoffed stubbornly.

the chair slides back and your heart sinks, suguru is coming towards you. there is a layer of panic in your body language that isn't unreadable despite there having enough close moments between you two. you flinched when he takes the last footstep, standing in front of you. his hand yanking the plate away and shoving it closer to your face. "does this look like the plate full of something you love?" he's right, you have barely taken a bite or two. you swallow thick, unsure why you're being lectured like a child. "sorry... i was just busy thinking about something but, i'll finish it." you mumbled, eyes glossed up at the sudden change. maybe its him who is in a bad mood today.

"no, i said i got something else." he yanks the plate against the wall, the crockery breaking the same time as a stray tear falls down your cheek. oh he's mad. its so evident the turmoil suguru is in when he's around you. you wish he didn't have to go through the psychological torture either, but its him that needs to understand that too. "don't be mad and ruin the dinner for everyone geto." your words have a slight gnaw, a warning. you don't know where you muster the strength to say all that but... you just do.

suguru is tamed just like that, a heavy sigh followed by an eye roll. you get up, wanting to leave when you feel his hand clasp around your wrist, tight, restricting some of your blood flow.

"i said, i got some food for you y/n" he raises a brow, why are you so difficult and why can't he kill you off. he knows he has a soft corner for you, he knows he ... loves you. which is why this hurts. he hates that fate had to choose no one but a fucking monkey for him. the very kind he hates has this much control over him. he wishes so bad that the feeling goes away, but his heart is taut between needing you near him and wanting to push you away.

"please." he murmurs like an injured lion next, leaning his hand away when you hiss in pain. so frail and breakable. he's so afraid to touch you wrong even, you're like a little bunny and he's this... big bad wolf. can't even hold you up well without hurting you. always extra careful... delighted to be extra careful. your hand reacts to his hold, turning redder and slightly blue. even though you're the one that's bruised, suguru is the one that's hurting.

"don't understand how weak someone can be." he hums, holding your hand gently and glaring at the wound. he hates this so much. then, there's always you attacking with words as well.

"oh you mean these physical wounds? eh, they're no problem. you can lock me up again if you're scared of hurting me physically, geto." you remind him that these are physical wounds, that this is something unrelated to the mental wounds he's given you.

"i have scars too, little one. so many scars from touching you." he replies, he also, means the emotional scars. you are a living, breathing reminder that his hate isn't enough after all.

"eat your food." suguru ends with a hum, despite everything, he can't let you go.

[furiousgoldfish]

I've noticed the other day how life is fundamentally different when living out of abuse. I had an experience of waking up in the morning, sleepily tapping over to the kitchen in my pajamas, wondering what to make for breakfast, and making a plan for the day. Completely careless and unselfconscious, thinking only about the food and what I wanted to do with my day. It hit me then how impossible every aspect of this would be, had I still been living in the abuse.

If I was still around abusers, my first thought in the morning would not be 'oh I'm so sleepy I'm gonna find something to eat', it would be 'Are they in the house, are they in the room, are they already mad at me'. I would be looking around cautiously, listening for every sound that indicates they're near me. I would be checking the clock to see if their schedule had already put them in their workplace or wherever they go, and then still peering trough the doors anxiously to see if the hallway is clear, if I can get to the kitchen. I'd be checking how I look to see if I'll be reprimanded for being in the pajamas in the common area. I'd change just to avoid the possibility. I'd be checking each item of food and wondering if it's okay to take it, or whether there's a chance I'll get yelled at or blamed for taking it. I'd be analyzing the last words and actions we exchanged to try to predict how close the abuser is from blowing up and possibly attacking me.

The rest of my day would be scheduled around avoiding them, or alternatively, being in the place where they could easily find me, because if I'm not where I'm expected to be, they might get mad. All of my activities could be stopped and prevented at moment's notice if they decided I need to be doing something for them at that moment. I could be yelled at for not doing something for them sooner, for 'making them say it'.

If I wanted to go out, I'd have to consider if this is allowed, and if they'd want me to stay inside for one reason or another. If I am outside, I'd have to worry about what's going to happen to my stuff if I'm not back whenever they're expecting me to be there, or what kind of angry state I'd find them in. It would be safest to notify them of everything I'm doing, but they might immediately call it unnecessary, stupid, offensive or otherwise inconvenient, and force me to drop it and do something for them instead. Secrecy was the only way to do things, but also risky in case some part of it turns out to be not allowed. There were never any clear rules to what is okay, it would change with their moods.

If I could hear the abuser's car parking in the driveway, I would run back inside of my room, as if it was the 'safe area', when it wasn't. It would at least take me out of their view, so they wouldn't immediately think to start at me. But if they wanted to, they could just go inside of my room and charge at me then. I would just delay being the target, putting myself out of immediate sight. Of course this also meant I couldn't leave any trace of doing anything in the home, so it wouldn't be noticeable I just ran away. Everything has to look untouched.

And then when they interacted with me, I had to make sure to not show emotion on my face, to not look overly confident or happy, to not show any fear or anxiety, to not look sad or upset, to not look angry. I had to act normal, or else. I had to try and defend my own actions and interests walking a fine line of 'trying to let them know I'm upset and unhappy about this, without setting them off and causing them to blow up at me for talking back'. And I'd be told off for this too, because 'how could I complain when people have it soo much worse and I am ungrateful for having a roof over my head'. I had to do whatever was asked out of me, and restrain from even expressing it wasn't what I wanted, for the fear of losing the roof over my head.

Unbelievable I just lived like that for many years. And now I can flop in my pajamas to the kitchen, eyes half closed, make a mess, and think of nothing but food and plans for the day, not worrying for a second that someone could target me for any move I make. I still get scared easily, but nobody attacks me anymore. I can take any item of food, for it is all mine. I can decide to go out anytime, come back anytime, no consequences. I decide what is good for me to do, and nobody else gets an input. I can think of my own interests, and disgreard what anyone else in the world could want from me, because I don't exist for their convenience, and I don't have to worry about it anymore. What I lived before feels absolutely intolerable now. Even one second of that is unsurvivable.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 47 – CANON DIVERGENCE

SERIES: Guys and Bots by Annie D (scaramouche)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 33,357 Tags: First Kiss, Flirting, Banter

Reasons why I love it: At this point it's no secret that I love everything Annie D has ever written, and this series is no exception. It's funny, emotional, fluffy and angsty in turns, and it's a rollercoaster ride that I will always come back for more of. If you like fantastic characterization, great humor and a wonderful ending, then you're going to love this one just as much as I do!

This series consists of:

Stick With Me, baby, I'm the Fella You Came in With

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 10,660 Tags: First Time, Light-Hearted, Humor

Summary: During the final battle with Ultron, Tony kisses Steve for the first time. Afterward, he makes it clear to Steve that he was just running on adrenaline and not thinking clearly. Steve seems to accept it, but the kiss nudges open a door of possibilities, and the situation escalates.

Reasons why I love it: They're both such dorks, I love them! That game of chicken they're playing is so much fun to see, and the emotional moments hit all the harder for how light-hearted and fluffy the rest of the fic is. This fic makes me so happy, and it's the perfect start to a fantastic series!

You Gamble on Everything, All Except Me

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 17,763 Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Post-AoU

Summary: Tony learns what it’s like to date Steve.

Reasons why I love it: The dialogue in this just kills me with how good it is. Annie D's writing always does that to me, but there's something about this one in particular that just stuck with me. In related news, the smut is scorchingly hot, and the Accords angst at the end is one of the best ways I've seen that entire mess dealth with. I adore it, and I bet you will too!

If I were a Bell

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 4,217 Tags: Bittersweet, Long-Distance Relationship, Bearded Steve

Summary: Officially, Tony hasn't seen Steve since the Sokovia Accords were ratified. Unofficially, Steve is a sneaky bastard who keeps taking risks to see Tony whenever he wants.

Reasons why I love it: It's rare that the aftermath of the Civil War is handled with such understanding and care on both sides, and I love that Annie D gave us a version that doesn't hurt but instead inspires hope. Plus, Tony's fixation on Steve's beard is hilarious, and the smut is hot as hell, as usual. I love this one so much!

Timestamp: Guys and Bots

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: G Words: 717 Tags: Infinity War, Magic, Avengers Team

Summary: Heading into the events of Avengers: Infinity War.

Reasons why I love it: This timestamp feels like a perfect little bow on top of a Christmas present. Honestly, I could read a billion more words in this universe, but this is such a perfect ending that I can't imagine anything topping it. If you haven't read this series yet, I really hope you give it a try, because it's absolutely fantastic!

[drdemonprince]

Your advice to the letter-writer whose friend is a former abuser is interesting to me! I largely agree with the specifics, but I'd have added advice to be careful with how the former abuser treats the letter-writer. I might also advise them to be careful whenever the former abuser describes conflicts, as they might be likelier than average to use a woe-is-me framework. I would recommend caution with anything the abuser suggests they do that might cause them discomfort or humiliation, even if it sounds righteous in theory. I realize this is not very fair of me. The former abuser shouldn't have to live with increased carefulness and suspicion from their friends. Maybe it's not a real friendship if you're always wary about your friend potentially turning on you. But purely pragmatically... a lot of former abusers do abuse again, even if they had changed, sincerely, for a while. And "my friend who knows my history and stands with me, even losing some other friends in the process" is a prime target for Abuse II: Abuse Comes Back But In A New Enlightened Way. Deciding to have solidarity with a former abuser is a very moral thing to do, but it's also a trait some abusers are great at warping for their own benefit. Again, I know I'm being unfair, but I keep seeing this happen. Sometimes the friend gets sucked into a narrative where they eventually blame the former victim and become increasingly protective. Other time they say very clear-eyed things but ultimately still end up physically or sexually or emotionally mistreated.

I guess my question is, you say you believe the abuser fundamentally changed, so what does that look like to you? Are you able to fully relax around people who've abused in the past? Abuse is the result of circumstances, but it's also a sort of skill; how do you trust people to never use that skill again?

Great things to be aware of, honestly, thanks anon for the nuanced and careful view.

I like your framing of abuse as a skillset rather than a type of person -- and it's a skill that a whole variety of people wield, including sometimes those who are identified by most not as abusers, but as crusaders for justice or even supposedly for victims' rights. Having been abused and having also learned to be a canny social manipulator, I do see abuse as a skill that gets taught in dysfunctional groups and family systems, and which we can all potentially fall back on when we're backed into a corner.

Knowing how to recognize the skills of abuse being utilized (and maybe even more importantly, how you feel when a person leverages certain tactics against you) is really important for self-preservation in general. Being friends with someone who has a known abuse history that they are explicit & contrite about, in some ways, puts you in a safer position than if you were interceding with a more covert abuser who uses such tactics under a banner of benevolence. But it's also true that many people who come to be known as abusers were initially known as charming, and right thinking, and moral -- and it's very possible for someone who has done abuse to present themselves as such but not mean it. We can't ever really know the full depths of someone else's heart and mind, nor do we have to -- we can look to their actions and the skills they use, particularly when they are frustrated or feeling attacked.

[angrywerewolfbeliever]

How I manifested getting into my dream school

*For some context, high school in my country is for fifteen to nineteen year olds*

I've always loved academics, and I've always been very smart, and because of that, I really wanted to go to this one particular, very academically challenging high school that is very difficult to get into.

For all of middle school, I kept thinking and worrying about whether or not I'd get in. I already knew about reality shifting and manifestation, and I believed it fully, but I was ridiculously misinformed, insecure, limiting, and inconsistant, so it's really no suprise that didn't get me anywhere.

Anyway, to get into this school you need to take an exam. I procrastinated studying for it, and the closer I got to the dreaded exam, the more I doubted my intelligence, manifestation as a whole, and most importantly, the likeness of me getting in.

After the exam, my anxiety worsened, especially because I didn't get into another school I applied to.

Safe to say, when the results came in, I was told I didn't get in.

Was I devastated? Yes. Did I want to rot in bed, soaking in self-pity? Also yes. Did I do that? No.

I don't think I had ever wanted anything more than to get in, so I sure as hell wasn't going to give up so easily.

I pulled myself together and said to myself, "No. I did get in. This is a mistake." This was immediately after I got the results. Of course, I still felt sad and disappointed, but I shoved those feelings down as deep as possible. For the next two weeks, I affirmed that I'm going to that school in the upcoming September, I checked what bus I'll need to take, I imagined me and my friend who did get in talking about how excited we are to be classmates, etc.

I knew that a second wave of people would get accepted in a couple of months, so my main affirmation was that I would be one of them and that I'd be first in line.

For the next two weeks, I spent all my free time, whether it was break between classes or walking my dog, affirming. Whenever I found myself thinking, "What if I don't get in?" I'd immediately tell myself to shut up, and I'd continue affirming. After a couple of days, my affirmations started popping up in my mind by themselves. After a week, I fully believed them. It didn't matter anymore that I didn't have the physical proof.

And guess what? My mom got an email from the school telling her that I got in. Keep in mind that those results weren't supposed to be out for a couple more months. I was first in line after all the others that got in and a spot opened. Not only was i first in line, but the amount of points that separated me from the last person who got in on result day was 0.05!

Now I go to that school and I couldn't be happier :)

The takeaway from this is:

1. Manifestation is incredibly simple,

2. Persist, persist, persist,

3. Circumstances don't fucking matter,

4. The 3D is your bitch and it's going to show you whatever you want it to so don't care if you're seeing the opposite,

5. Believe in yourself!!!

With love,

Venus

[randomfoggytiger]

With the help of your analysis, I started wondering if CSM and the syndicate chose Scully to be a "mole" in hopes of one day turning her into one of them as they did with Krycek.

Perhaps, because of their knowledge of Mulder's penchant for porn, they thought that she could be a distraction and a wrench in his plans. Once they could turn or initiate her, afterall she was young and relatively inexperience and possibly easily influenced (at least in their eyes), she could help manipulate Mulder ala Diana. They didn't expect Scully to be as strong-willed and connect to Mulder as she did.

I wonder what the plan was with Mulder and Scully had Gillian not gotten pregnant. I think I read that one of the writers or directors wanted to create some angst between them by having them turn against one another at some point. I could be wrong.

Another issue that my brain was trying to reconcile is who is the "boss"? Is Mulder technically Scully's "boss" or manager and is that why he seems to order her around. OR, is Scully technically the boss since she begins by monitoring him and reporting back about his doings to CSM/Belvins? I know they are supposed to be "partners" and on equal ground, but are they. Honestly, no matter what, Scully is in control because she has Mulder wrapped around her tiny little fingers.

Okay, let's answer this in chunks! >:DDD

Neither Mulder nor Scully is the boss. They both report to Skinner, and he holds them equally accountable for mistakes made on the files. If Mulder had been "the department head" in anything other than name/title only, then he would have had a lot more one-sided punishment from Skinner for the basement's escapades: hierarchy and rank bring require more responsibility. Which is what Mulder wanted to avoid (amongst other things-- like spies. Speaking of which:)

I think the Syndicate had a different goal than CSM for assigning Scully.

Blevins thought they could reign Mulder in; and his groupies constantly raged at CSM's or Deep Throat's interference whenever Mulder was "saved" or bailed out from various scrapes. They wanted Scully to debunk his work: Blevins admitted as much in Pilot. If they wanted to sexually distract Mulder from the files, they wouldn't have thought to recruit-- or let CSM recruit-- Diana Fowley out.

CSM kept trying to thwart or kill Mulder in Season 1-3; but canon rewrote that motivation in Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man to become one of deep curiosity and interest. In Season 4, we learned he sent Scully down because she would complement Mulder's work and hopefully lead that doe-y eyed younger man closer to the Truth-- specifically, to what CSM believed was the Truth: his beliefs and goals, his Syndicate. In Season 6, he lamented that Jeffrey was a lame buzzkill and not comparable at all to "Bill Mulder's son." It's not until Amor Fati-- David Duchovny's episode, really-- that we were given a more cogent reason for CSM's actions: he is more than willing to sacrifice Mulder for his own selfish gain. "Every man just wants to live a normal life" (loosely quoted) was what CSM believes, for himself and for Mulder; and we saw him constantly get mixed up with women left and right-- Tena Mulder, Cassandra Spender, Diana Fowley, nearly Scully-- trying to find a snippet of that normal life (the opposite of Mulder and Tena Mulder and Bill Mulder's strategy.) It's also in Amor Fati that CSM influences Mulder to wonder if Carl is his father-- an idea canon left mostly on the back burner the entire show. Here, we realize he wanted to draw Mulder to "the Truth" not for Mulder's benefit but for his own: either to join his side, or to leech off his brain (metaphorically and literally) like a parasite.

Mulder's pornography/phone sex is very different than an actualized sexual relationship with a woman; and the Syndicate, I believe, factored in that difference. As previously mentioned, the Consortium would have been aware that Mulder recruited his own girlfriend onto the files when he discovered them. Yet, they chose to-- or allowed CSM to, which I think is the case-- pull Diana away with an elevated position in Europe. Blevins and the group explicitly sent Scully in to debunk and humiliate Mulder's work. They could have chosen anyone else, including a planted spy; but they didn't feel the need because they thought it would be a one-and-done case-- that Scully would wrap her partner up tight and deliver him for slaughter. Further, I think they selected Scully because she was an excellent agent who, they assumed, wouldn't respect Mulder or his theories... and she inadvertently reinforced that impression by calling him "Spooky Mulder" in Blevins's office (after that exchange is when she was told about the job.)

Those are my thoughts, anyway.

[sin-on-purpose]

Rules: Daily Routine

What you do during baths / showers: You have to lock the door when you take a bath / shower and only once every 2 weeks can you leave the door open where she can only see you naked and you are only limited to making out and nothing more (it is up to your gf to notice the difference and take advantage of the door being ajar but you CANNOT invite her in the bathroom with you). Refer to #8 for when you are solo bathing.

Morning routine: Every MORNING you have to think of me and edge yourself / ride your fingers (and tell me about it) until you're about to cum but you CANNOT fully orgasm so your mind stays obsessed with Wanting. While this is happening, you have to moan my name over and over again until it becomes as natural as breathing. Every WEEKDAY (in the morning), you must stuff your underwear in your cunt after you finish and leave it inside of you while you drive to work OR for a minimum of 4 hours while starting your work-from-home shift. You are permitted to put them back on once you arrive at work OR after 4 hours have passed while working from home.

Night routine: Every NIGHT (If you find yourself alone) I want you to repeat everything from #4 BUT AFTERWARD you are NOT allowed to wash yourself / your hands. On Monday, Wednesday, Friday you have to let your cum dry on yourself and on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday you have to suck / lick your fingers dry. EVERY WEEKEND (at night) you must stuff your underwear in your cunt after you finish and leave it inside of you for AN HOUR.

What happens if you make a mess: Any time you make a mess ANYWHERE, you have to attempt to lick it clean just for me. Whatever can't be licked, you have to put the wet object in your mouth and suck on it or wipe it with your fingers and suck on them not leaving any of it to waste.

Driving home: Whenever you drive home from any location (work, errands, gym, etc.) you have to do so without wearing a bra. Once you get home, you have to leave your bra in the car to be worn again the next time you go out of the house.

Using the bathroom: Whenever you feel the need to use the bathroom IN PUBLIC (doesn't count bathrooms at a residence), you have find a way to drink a cup of water beforehand and after closing the door in the stall, you are to trace the outline of both of your nipples and pull at them until they are both erect enough for you to tug at them and then playfully insert an index finger inside of you once and wiggle it around for at least a full minute straight before you take a piss while thinking of me. You must drip dry if you pee but wipe regular if it involves anything else. You can still wash your hands after you're done in an attempt to compose yourself before going back outside. Whenever you use the bathroom IN PRIVATE (your house or anyone else's house), you are to prolong using the bathroom as long as feasibly possible (no need to drink a cup of water beforehand) and then repeat the routine of tracing the outline of both of your nipples, pulling at them until they are both erect enough for you to tug at them and then playfully insert an index finger inside of you once and wiggle it around for at least a full minute straight before you take a piss while thinking of me. You can use the bathroom like normal afterward and that includes wiping and washing your hands afterward. Both IN PUBLIC and IN PRIVATE, you must take your index and middle fingers and taste the tips of them to reward yourself for following instructions

When to orgasm: You can only fully let yourself go if your gf is pleasing you and only IF you are thinking of ONLY me once every 4 weeks (aka once month). If you're sleeping with your gf more frequently than that, she is only allowed to edge you (while you're thinking ONLY of me) until you're almost there but you have to stop it before you get to orgasm. If you are by yourself, you can only fully release all your tension all over yourself 4 weeks AFTER you allow your gf to make you cum. After you make yourself cum, your gf cannot do anything except kiss you and touch you over clothes for the next week. If she DOES get access to you under your clothes (counting under your bra and/or your bottoms) during this time, YOU cannot have sex with your gf for the next 4 weeks after that event.

Daily moaning (for me): Whenever you are pleasing yourself solo from #1-3, you are to moan my name always. For #1 when you are in the shower / bath, since your gf will not be with you for most of the time when you bathe, on occasions when you are alone with the door locked, you have to tease and please your cunt and repeatedly say my name almost loud enough for your gf to hear outside the door but not loud enough for her to distinguish what name you're saying.

Sleeping: If you are sleeping by yourself in bed on weekdays, you have to be naked after following the rules from #3 for your nightly routine. However, if you sleep by yourself in bed over the weekend, you have to leave your underwear on and remain topless so after you follow the rules from #3 you have to use your wet undies to stuff inside of you for the allotted 1 HOUR. Afterward, you can sleep naked. Anytime you sleep around anyone else, you are to be wear undies and a top (no bra)

Making coffee in the morning: If you are casually waiting for it to brew you (and you're by yourself), you have to press yourself up against a table or wall to let it hit your clit and turn yourself on. This is while wearing undies (top optional).

Texts, videochat, phone calls (to non-gf): Every initial correspondence initiated by anyone who isn't your gf are to be followed up with you touching yourself over clothes for at least 10 minutes regardless of who's around whether it's DURING your text / videochat / phone call or immediately right after. Just enough to tease and wake up your cunt.

[z3r0b1tch35]

It snowed a little here so I’m coming here with my little/cg hcs with snow!

-Hashira-

Gyomei:

Loves bundling up with scarfs and beanies and fuzzy socks, hates trying to walk. He’s adapted to his blindness over the years, but ice and the cold ground are hard to tell the difference. Definitely falls a lot, and the tears make his face very cold. Stresses him out as a cg because he isn’t able to know where his littles are as easy.

Tengen:

Hates it. Every single piece of winter he hates. He much prefers sitting inside cuddling his partners while drinking hot coffee by the fire place. Him and his partners have a weighted blanket for their bed just for this occasion. He is definitely not a happy flip whenever snow is involved.

Kanae:

She loves it, I don’t think there’s a stronger word to show how excited she gets for the winter months. She loved winter decorations, specifically the deer, she loves making hot chocolate, and making snowmen. She doesn’t need to worry about her littles too much as they stay mostly in her line of sight.

Obanai:

There isn’t a word to explain how much he hates winter. He loathes the snow. He’s already as cold as a reptile during the summer, the winter is just added salt to the wound. Every time he’s outside he’s the grumpiest toddler ever, he’s got three layers minimum and is just overall upset about the ordeal.

Giyuu:

He’s pretty “eh” about snow. He does like watching it melt in his hands though. Watching snowfall is his favorite activity. Seriously, he would just sit at the window and watch snow accumulate on the ground. When he’s little he likes just standing and watching others play in the ice.

Sanemi:

Adores it. He loves snowball fights, and it’s even better because he can get away with it. Loves watching people slip and fall, doesn’t love it when he’s the one to slip. As a cg he enjoys it simply because kids falling humors him, though he gets cold easy.

Kyojuro:

Due to his heightened natural body heat, he adores the cold. Fall and winter are his favorites because spring and summer gets him sweating. He hates having to wear gloves though, always putting up a fight. Little and big him get very excited when it snows, he loves making snow castles but he has to be fought into clothes.

Mitsuri:

Also due to heightened body temperature, she loves the snow. She does get a bit upset not getting to wear her normal skirts, but she loves her hakama pants that Kyojuro got her. Little her likes making snow pops, specifically the strawberry flavor ones.

Shinobu:

Hates it. Hates it all. She hates the decorations, hates the cold, hates the warm drinks. Loathes winter in its entirety. Hates having to clean up the wet floor from peoples shoes. Her as a cg has her getting much more snappy with littles.

Muichiro:

The most neutral guy in the world. He doesn’t care for seasons and doesn’t have a favorite. He doesn’t like having to wait for his hair to fully dry before stepping outside, that’s frustrates him. When he’s little he’s a bit happier about it, but his fingers get numb and he gets upset again.

-Kamaboka Squad-

Genya:

Very similar to Sanemi, he adores snow ball fights. He never starts them, but he does enjoy participating. His nose gets cold and red fast and so his cg (typically Gyomei) carries around tissues at all times. When he’s little he gets very eager to go outside and tries to get his clothes on as fast and physically possible.

Zenitsu:

This isn’t even a headcanon, he canonly hates the cold and snow and anything winter lmao. When he’s little it’s much much worse, he’s clinging to his cg and wears earmuffs the entire time he’s outside. The cold hurts his ears and hands and he lets everyone under the sun know about it. Has his pacifier in the entire time

Kanao:

She enjoys making snow angels, but having to get the frost out of her hair is a pain. She once cried because she lost her butterfly teether in the snow and couldn’t find it for over thirty minutes. When she’s little she doesn’t like straying far away from Kanae, so she waddles in the snow around her.

Aoi:

The biggest snow lover behind Kanae. She loves waddling around and helping with the decorations. If Kanae ever tells her she doesn’t need help she gets so sad. She doesn’t like snow ball fights because her hair always gets wet. She makes hot dark chocolate.

Tanjiro:

The hottest temperature naturally, they’ve learned to allow him a light jacket and he’s okay. The snow melts in his hands extremely fast, so snow ball fights are boring to him; he does enjoy making snowmen because of this though, the snow melts into compact. He gave a snowman his teether and got upset when Kyojuro took it away and cleaned it.

Inosuke:

Starts a snowball fight whenever he’s outside. He hates when he forced into heavy thick clothes because he can’t sense things as well, forgetting that his cgs have him protected. Constantly wandering off following animal tracks until a cg has to go and get him. Eats all the carrots on the snowmen, makes Tanjiro very upset.

Nezuko:

Similar to Tanjiro, her body is very hot so she only needs a jacket and pants. She loves helping Tanjiro in whatever he is doing. But when she is by herself, she loves finding hidden acorns and putting them in her pockets. Also finding little rocks that have surfaced near the river bend. Her pockets are filled by the time she’s picked up to go inside. Her paci falls all the time and she secretly just picks it up, she gets sick by the next day.

Senjuro:

He is identical to his brother in the fact that he’s much hotter than a typical person. He doesn’t mind the warmer seasons because he prefers staying inside, but it’s nice taking a walk and not getting home drenched. When he’s little he wants to only be outside in the snow like a little husky, even hollering like one when dragged back inside.

Kiyo:

She sits on the porch painting her, or the others, nails because the cold makes them dry in a neat pattern. She loves wearing her skirt even though you can see the goosebumps. Her as a babysitter consists of her just running around with her older sisters.

Sumi:

She is doing all the littles hair, Nezuko adores her. She is watching over the littles taking a break inside. She isn’t too keen on the cold, but the decorations are very nice to put up. She also has fixed up some scraps from littles that fell.

Naho:

Unlike her sisters, she hates the snow similar to Shinobu. She gets mad because her face gets numb and her teeth hurt under cold winds. She is also inside but she’s cooking food or cleaning the laundry so she doesn’t have to worry about mopping the snow off the ground. She is very opinionated on snow, she wishes it didn’t exist.

[ibit3u]

Skylar didn’t have time to react nor defend himself. One minute he was standing, mouthing off to the elder vampire. The next, his back collided with brick and he let out a hiss of pain as something cracked. Red eyes glared at James as the younger vampire attempted to break free of the hold, to retaliate. But it was no use. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, James was stronger.

The grip on his throat was like a vice, and while Skylar didn’t need to breathe, he felt himself panicking. Though, James had successfully found a way to silence the kid and allow him room to speak. All Skylar could do was listen and struggle within that grip. Yet those eyes spoke for him, glaring the elder to death. There was so much rage, so much anger and frustration in those eyes. It was clear he wasn’t used to being scalded like this, nor expected to be when he ventured out tonight. Meeting an elder was one thing, but for said elder to be Homelander’s puppet was a whole other can of worms entirely.

A growlhiss left Skylar as he felt that knee to his stomach, nails clawing at that hand around his throat, trying his best to break free. Oh, how he wanted to make James regret his actions, get his own back. He wanted nothing more than to beat the arrogance out of him. He met those eyes dead on with a mirrored look of fury. James may have the upper hand but Skylar was standing his ground…as best he could until his feet were dangling in the air. He squirmed like a caught feline, feral and hissing at the elder in response to the threats and warnings. However, his face fell at the mention of being taken to Homelander.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! I’m not going anywhere near him! I want nothing to do with him except put him six feet under.” Skylar growled, struggling as he was dragged, doing all he could to make it difficult and frustrating for the elder. A true brat indeed. “Actually…on second thought, sure. Take me to your master, dog. I’ll be more than happy to drain him dry. I’ll even let you watch.” He laughed, cruel and mocking, returning the tone he’d been given. “What, you think I’m scared of him?! I despise him with every fibre of my undead being. He’s a narcissistic prick, all show, all glamour. He makes me fucking sick.” Skylar spat, knowing his words got to James, but he didn’t care. He was that frustrated, that angry, he was running his mouth without really thinking.

Skylar still struggled, making things as awkward and difficult for James as possible while he was pulled toward the tower. Despite his efforts, it didn’t stop the inevitable and before long Vought Tower was right in front of them. “You have no idea how satisfying it would be to burn this goddamn tower to the ground with your precious boy scout inside. This is like a modern version of Dracula’s castle. God, I hate cliches.” He huffed, lip curling at the sight of the tower up close. Given it was a public building, he knew he wouldn’t need permission to enter. Even if he did, James seemed fairly set on him meeting Homelander whether he liked it or not.

Of course, just because they arrived at the tower didn’t mean Skylar didn’t stop being awkward and struggling. Oh, no. He was fully set on making James’ life hell, still pulling against that grip, dragging his feet, gripping and holding onto anything he could. Sure, he might be making himself look like an idiot by causing scenes, but he didn’t care. Even as they walked past visitors and employees, Skylar ran his mouth at them. “What’s so special about Homelander anyway?” and “Don’t you think Homelander is getting a bit too old to be doing this sort of thing?” and “Y’know, there’s definitely more to that Flight 37 thing than they’re telling us. Funny how things always fuck up whenever Homelander is involved!”

The instant James answered the phone it was obvious who it was. Skylar had taken a few steps, distancing them both. He was oh so tempted to leave and merge with the night. It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to considering the elder was very much distracted. Except it was the complete change in demeanour that caught Skylar’s attention, made him stop, listen and watch.

His senses could pick up the deep authoritative tone on the other end of the phone. His jaw clenched in disgust and loathing, hating no one more than the fucking Homelander. It made him sick to see the effects he clearly had on the elder vampire. The way he stuttered, cut himself off from speaking. The way he shrank into himself, became unsure. Far less confident. Frankly, it was embarrassing to watch, yet Skylar was frozen in place unable to look away.

Homelander had this vampire wrapped around his gloved fingers so much so that, frankly, it was quite pathetic. What did a vampire have to fear against a mutant Supe? Surely James could end his life if he wanted to. The problem was that by the sounds of things, that’s the last thing he wanted. Skylar’s brow furrowed in confusion. None of this made any sense. Vampires were superior, deadly predators. So why on earth was James rolling over and allowing himself to be ordered around? Questioned?

He shouldn’t care. It was none of his business. He should just leave, take off and find some peace and quiet for the rest of the night. Leave James to lick Homelander’s boots all he wanted. …Yet he needed to know why. Why an elder was reduced to a bumbling, anxious mess at just the voice of Homelander. What was there to fear?

That confused look remained when James ended the call and took a moment to gather himself. And then he couldn’t help but scoff laugh. “No, no, no. You can’t possibly expect me to take you seriously after that. Where were we? I was just leaving actually. Seems you’ve been tasked with a very important fetch quest, little doggy.” Skylar taunted, no longer intimidated by the elder vampire.

The young vampire took a few steps before pausing to turn and glare at James with a look of disgust. “You’re a sorry excuse for a vampire. You give us a bad name. The way you roll over for that…fucking maniac…for a human! It’s pathetic. You’re supposed to be stronger, wiser. Yet you let him order you around?! No. You’re not a vampire. You’re a goddamn lapdog licking at his boots.” Skylar all but spat, shaking his head. “We’re done here. Perhaps one day I’ll meet an elder who has a goddamn fucking backbone.”

[charlott2n]

forgetting is crazy like theres just a last time you ever even know something happened

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.