#now if you're wondering “op what is the CONTEXT???”

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

The council has become VERY locked in a heated debate about this so I'm settling this ONCE AND FOR ALL via a tumblr poll (feel free to check the tags for context)

( GOES WITHOUT SAYING BUT PLEASE REBLOG FOR A LARGER SAMPLE SIZE )

if you'd like my personal opinion , i think it counts and we Would redefine the word to include our alien friends . theyre arguably just as human as we are and eating them would have the same psychological effects , even if they taste good !

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hello OP! Hope u don’t mind this request for the demon bros

So just earlier i saw the “raising a pet together” game on tiktok, and i was on a freenzy, IT’S JUST TOO CUTE 🥹 and i’m too single to have anybody to do it with me lol.

What would be their reaction when the MC got them to downloaded the app and raise the virtual pet together?

COMMENTS: Well, I didn't know about this game, so I asked Gemini (Bard) about it to find out a little more about this type of game. Long story short: I told some of my friends about this game and now we are taking care of a virtual kitten together 😊 Thank you so much for the request 😉

What I wrote is based on my little experience playing the game called Pokipet. I hope you and all enjoy 🐶🐱

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers (Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub & Belphegor)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Bullet Points

WORD COUNT: An average of 390 words per character.

CONTEXT - According to Gemini (formerly "Bard"): The "Raising a Pet Together" game is a concept where you and someone else, like a friend, family member, or significant other, work together to raise a virtual pet.

The core idea is to work together to raise a virtual pet, which can be a fun way to: Simulate pet ownership and its responsibilities. Test your teamwork and communication skills. Have a cute and engaging way to interact with someone else.

“Why would we take care of a virtual pet together if we can already do it with Cerberus?” He will ask you.

Well, maybe you just want to try it out and see how it goes.

“Of course everything would be fine. The two of us would be its caretakers. How could anything go if not perfectly?” he sighs and chuckles “Fine. If you really want to do this, then I can accommodate your whims.”

According to Lucifer's traditional Devildom profile, when asked "Cats or Dogs" he answers "Cerberus". So he would choose to take care of a dog and name it Cerberus.

Whenever you open the app to take care of the little virtual Cerberus, Lucifer has already taken care of everything. Feed it? He already did. Give it a bath? He already did it. Pet it? The happiness bar is already maxed out, but you can still do it.

You would probably do more of the decorating of the room and give it clothes and accessories. He'll probably be stupidly good at the minigames and earn a lot of money so you can spend it freely on those things.

Whenever he has a lot of work and opens the app as if it were another of his responsibilities and sees that the virtual Cerebrus is fed and well taken care of by you, he will smile in relief. It's so wonderful to have another person he can rely on and share responsibilities with. You're so good at taking the weight off his shoulders and making him feel at ease.

He will definitely try to use this game to convince you to take care of the real Cerebrus with him instead of a virtual pet.

If the app has a chat and, at night, you both open the app at the same time to put your pet to bed:

Lucifer: Good evening (Y/N)

Lucifer: Are you here to put Cerberus to bed too?

Lucifer: What a pleasant coincidence.

The two of you cuddle your pet until it falls asleep.

Lucifer: Now, you should go to sleep too.

Lucifer: The same applies to me.

Lucifer: But now I want to fall asleep with you by my side.

Lucifer: Come to my room.

Lucifer: I can cuddle you until you fall asleep too.

Lucifer: If what you want is to sleep, of course.

“Raising a pet together?! Do you think I have money to support a pet? I can barely stay out of debt!” Mammon panics and speaks as if you were talking about a child.

But then you explain that it's a virtual pet, on your D.D.D.s.

“Oh...” He blushes a lot. “W-why didn't you say that from the beginning, you dummy?” He thinks for a second and then smiles widely. “Well, if it's free, I guess we can try it.”

According to Mammon's traditional Devildom profile, when asked "Cats or Dogs"  he answers "Cats". If you were surprised, so was I. For a name? Maybe Goldie, like his credit card. A yellow kitten named Goldie.

He'll blush a little when he thinks that you're taking care of a pet together, like a real close couple.

You are the one who will take care of Goldie the most. Giving it food and bath. And there will be many times when you almost don't have the money for it because Mammon will spend it all on toys, clothes and decoration. Even though it's a virtual pet, he will spoil it.

In terms of the pet's needs, he will probably just play with it. And give it treats. He will try to do the minigames to earn more money, but regardless of whether he is good at these minigames or not, he will continue to spend more money than he can earn.

But despite everything, he will try to be as helpful as possible and genuinely try to take care of Goldie so you don't have to do all the work. Sometimes he will even surprise you by taking really ood care of it.

If the app has a chat and, at night, you both open the app at the same time to put your pet to bed:

Mammoney: Oi! What are ya doin' here?

Mammoney: Oh. Ya here to put Goldie to bed too?

Mammoney: Ok. You can do it tonight

You cuddle your pet until it falls asleep.

Mammoney: Aww look at our baby~

Mammoney: PET! I MEAN PET!

Mammoney: hey... if you're still not sleepy either

Mammoney: why don't ya come to my room?

Mammoney: I always feel more relaxed with you by my side

Mammoney: Maybe we can help each other sleep?

Mammoney: Or... do something else if ya want...

“A VIRTUAL PET TO TAKE CARE OF TOGETHER?!?!” Levi is overjoyed with the idea! His eyes were sparkling! You don't need to say anything else, he's already downloading the app. Could this be a test to find out if you would be good parents to a real pet? Or maybe... No! NO LEVI! TOO EARLY!! One step at a time.

According to Levi's traditional Devildom profile, when asked "Cats or Dogs"  he answers "Henry". But since he could only choose between dog and cat, he would probably choose dog, because cats are known to eat fish.

For a name? “Maybe Henry 3.0?” He starts to suggest “Hum... no... Ah! Can I try something?” he writes a name that is accepted and shows it to you so you can confirm or deny the suggestion, with his cheeks slightly flushed. Henry <3 When he sees you smile in confirmation, his smile and enthusiasm only increase.

He's a dedicated gamer, so you don't have to worry about anything at all! He will get so many coins that you will practically be rich in that game. And he will buy everything. EVERYTHING! Decoration, food, toys, clothes, accessories, literally everything that is possible to buy in the game. And you can do whatever you want.

If you show that you would like to contribute more to your pet's care, he will apologize and promise to play less so you can have the opportunity to take care of Henry <3 too. But of course he will continue to open the app almost constantly, even if it's just to see you taking care of Henry <3.

Don't be surprised if he one day shows up with a Henry <3 plush so that the two of you can cuddle your baby whenever you want.

If the app has a chat and, at night, you both open the app at the same time to put your pet to bed:

L3V1: HEYYYYY ^.^

L3V1: Are you here to put Henry <3 to bed too?

L3V1: Let’s do it together!

The two of you cuddle your pet until it falls asleep.

L3V1: Hey... um... are you sleepy?

L3V1: The thing is I'm not sleepy yet

L3V1: Actually I'm now wide awake

L3V1: Could you keep me company for a little while?

L3V1: You know, I always feel sleepier when I'm with you

L3V1: I feel safe and calm

L3V1: If by chance you also feel this way about me

L3V1: Would you like to keep each other company in my room?

L3V1: But it could also be in yours

L3V1: Or not. It's okay if you don't want to

Take care of a virtual pet together? Where one of the options is a cat? Sign him up! And since he can't have a real pet cat, this is the best thing you could have propose to him! (*cough* besides marriage *cough*)

We don't even need the Devildom profile for this one, do we?

For a name? Probably the name of one of his favorite writers. Or... how about the name of one of your (you two) favorite writers? Christopher from Christopher Peugeot ;)

He's not that much into games, but since we're talking about taking care of a kitten, he can reach your level of experience. Or at least he will try. And to do this, he will do two things: 1st - Ask you for help. Which will make you two learn together how the game works. And 2nd - Do a lot of research on the internet about the best ways to play and the best strategies to get lots of coins so that your cat doesn't lack any care.

That game will be one of the main apps on his D.D.D. In addition to apps about books and the chat where he talks to you and the others.

Maybe he'll even find a way to change the background on his phone to a screen shot of your virtual pet.

If the app has a chat and, at night, you both open the app at the same time to put your pet to bed:

stn: Hello.

stn: I see you're here to put Christopher to bed as well.

stn: Why don't we do the honors together?

The two of you cuddle your pet until it falls asleep.

stn: Now we both should go to sleep too.

stn: If you are having trouble falling asleep, you can come to my room.

stn: I will be happy to read with you until you fall asleep.

stn: Your company will also help me rest.

stn: So feel free to come see me.

“Take care of a virtual pet together? That sounds so cute! Oh, but it's not as demanding as taking care of a real pet, is it? I'm not ready for that kind of commitment. I still need my ME time.~”

According to Asmo's traditional Devildom profile, when asked "Cats or Dogs" he answers "Me <3". But you need to choose between a dog and a cat. So you suggest a cat.In real life, cats are generally not as dependent as dogs. And, lets say that they are more likely to take "beauty more seriously" than a dog.

For a name? “OH! Can it be Asmodeus II? Pretty pleeeeease~”

You will be Asmodeus II's main caretaker. Since Asmo will be more interested in spoiling it with toys, clothes and affection. And if he wants to buy something and doesn't have coins for it, he'll try to convince you to play more mini-games to get more coins for him to spend. “Ow, don't be mad at me hon. It's for our little baby. What if I spoil you in real life as a thanks~?”

When he tells his followers about this new virtual pet, eventually, more and more fans will ask him to tell them more and more about how it's going. Which mean that your pet will end up becoming part of his content. But it also ends up making Asmo pay more attention and care for it more.

And don't be surprised if, for a person who didn't want to commit to a pet, he ends up being the one trying to convince you to get a real pet. After all, if a virtual pet is already so good, imagine how much better a real pet would be! How cute would that be! And how much more engagement and new followers his social media would have! But despite this last one, what he really wants is to share a new love with you.

If the app has a chat and, at night, you both open the app at the same time to put your pet to bed:

AsmoBaby: Hey hon~ <3

AsmoBaby: I just wanted to come put our baby to bed~

AsmoBaby: Sorry for always being you the one to do this

AsmoBaby: What if you let me do this tonight? ;)

He cuddles your pet until it falls asleep.

AsmoBaby: Awwww! IT’S SO CUTE!

AsmoBaby: I have to take a screenshot to show my followers!

AsmoBaby: Give me a second~

AsmoBaby: I could see this cute little thing sleeping for hours~

AsmoBaby: But we both need our beauty sleep

AsmoBaby: Oh, that gives me an idea!

AsmoBaby: Why don't you come to my room?

AsmoBaby: We can do our nighttime beauty routines together

AsmoBaby: And we can sleep together if you want to stay with me

AsmoBaby: You deserve some spoiling for taking such good care of our baby <3

“A virtual pet?” Beel wouldn't understand the proposal well at first. “Isn't the point of having a pet to have a true companion by your side? You know, to take care of each other and play together?”

You tell him yes, but that it's just a little experience for you to share. Seeing how much you really want to do that with him, he will smile. “Okay, if you really want it that much, I'll take care of a pet with you. It'll be fun. Anything with you is.”

According to Beel's traditional Devildom profile, when asked "Cats or Dogs" he answers "Dogs". So, a dog will be.

For a name? You're asking a lot of him. Could you choose one for him? But try to keep it from being a food-related name, this will make Beel hungry. (And in the worst possible scenario, he wanting to bite your virtual pet. This is before he becomes attached to it)

He won't care much about aesthetics, you can take care of that if you want. You are free to dress your pet and get it as many toys as you want. Beel will be more interested in feeding it well and exercising.

In terms of playing mini-games to get coins, it would be very balanced, none of you would get many more coins than the other. Unless you're crazy about those mini-games. In that case, you would get more coins than Beel.

You also shouldn't be surprised when he starts talking about the two of you getting a real dog as a pet. Yes, it's true that Lucifer has Cerberus and that he would let you take care of him from time to time, but Beel wants a puppy of both of you. He wants to have a little furry baby with you.

If the app has a chat and, at night, you both open the app at the same time to put your pet to bed:

Beelzeburger: Hey

Beelzeburger: You're also here to put our dog to bed?

Beelzeburger: Being here with you makes me very happy

Beelzeburger: We can do this together

The two of you cuddle your pet until it falls asleep.

Beelzeburger: I'm going to get a snack before going to bed

Beelzeburger: Do you want one too?

Beelzeburger: We can have a midnight snack together

Beelzeburger: I'm going to the kitchen now

Beelzeburger: Do you want to meet me there?

Beelzeburger: Or do you want me to bring a snack to your room?

Beelzeburger: Oh wait!

Beelzeburger: I can eat your snack on the way

Beelzeburger: Sorry, it would be better if you come meet me in the kitchen

“A virtual pet? Well, it's not as demanding as having a real pet. And it would be fun to take care of a pet with you. Okay, we can do it.”

According to Belphie's traditional Devildom profile, when asked "Cats or Dogs" he answers "Dogs". So, a dog will be.

For a name? Well, Belphie would have a little idea. “You know, Beel has always reminded me of a happy dog, especially when he smiles. Ha ha. What do you think about calling it Beel?” That and when you two talk about your pet without giving context, the reactions of the brothers would be fun to watch.

You'll probably realize that taking care of that pet with Belphie is a rollercoaster. One moment he takes care of all the pet's needs and even buys one or two little things for it. And the next, the pet has all its needs at a minimum and needs a lot of care. Those last one usually happens because Belphie has fallen asleep and has been sleeping for a long time. But apart from those times, your care would be quite balanced.

You would probably be more in charge of playing the mini-games to earn coins. That's because Belphie doesn't really like to have that much work, although he tries to do it from time to time so it doesn't always have to be you.

He wouldn't start trying to convince you to get a real pet. Especially a dog. Because he knows it would be a responsibility he's not prepared for and he knows it would end up giving you more work and he doesn't want that. That virtual pet is perfect. At least for now.

If the app has a chat and, at night, you both open the app at the same time to put your pet to bed:

Belphie: Hi

Belphie: You're here too

Belphie: Do you want to put it to sleep?

Belphie: Be my guest :)

You cuddle your pet until it falls asleep.

Belphie: Thanks <3

Belphie: Hey, since you're still awake too

Belphie: Come join me

Belphie: Let's cuddle until we fall asleep

Belphie: I always sleep better when I'm with you

Belphie: I also have the best dreams

Belphie: Come sleep with me~

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[warpcorp]

A SPACE ODYSSEY TUMBLR SIMULATOR

[FOR CONTEXT, the book mentions that the events of the Discovery have become a "classic" of sorts which implies there is a fandom in universe for the Discovery...]

🚀 davidbowmankinnie follow

Happy 100 years since the Discovery Mission!

🔴 hal10000 follow

can't believe it's been 100 years... it felt like just yesterday!

🎂 discovery-logs-outofcontext follow

rb with your favorite thing about the fandom. I'll go first. i found my best friend irl because I saw she was reading the Discovery Manuscript. She's a really big Hal fan and I love Sal a lot. We are hal & sal irl...

💾 heywoodslefttoe follow

i kin dated someone as frank/dave in middle school. It ended bad.

📼 chandradeservedbetter follow

LOL do you remember the Hal Plushie incident?

🪽 halleyscomet follow

The WHAT NOW?

🌐 halmanpoole-shipper follow

DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE HAL PLUSHIE.

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

I CANNOT STAND HAL APOLOGISTS IM SORRY 💀 HE LITERALLY KILLED FOUR PEOPLE.

🔦 kaminskyy follow

Ofc its a frankdave shipper. Your fucking username IS FRANK DAVE ANAL SEX.

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

Your fav has zero fucking lines in the book but ok 📸 ur literally a murderer apologist 😭😭

🔴 hal10000 follow

GOD shut up its not a book theyre real people. Hal also like?? Was going thru fucking psychosis but ok then... did you read the second mission??

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

You're a hal kinnie dni.

🧮 zeniiiia follow

Don't interact with op they've doxxed like seven people.

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

BLOCKED 🤣

📀 legendofthediscovery follow

Just updated my newest fic! It's a hal/dave/frank fic, has 15 chapters and is a post canon fix-it!

💡chandras-son follow

GODDD THE HAL/SAL/CHANDRA INTERACTION IN THE NEWEST CHAP IS SO CUTE... OP I AM DYINGGG

📀 legendofthediscovery follow

I AM A HUGE FAN OF YOUR ART... IM HAPPY YOU LIKE IT. YOU INSPIRED A LOT OF THE CHANDRA FAMILY MOMENTS 🩷

💡chandras-son follow

CAN WE BE MUTUALS

🔎 dave-bowwman follow

Happy anniversary to my bfs @frankk-pooole and @ hal-loween. Couldn't do it without you guys

📺 betty-to-her-helena follow

Omg you guys are relationship goals...

🔎 dave-bowwman follow

THANK YOU <3

🎞 helena-to-her-betty follow

we neeeed to do that double date sometime.

〽️ frankk-pooole follow

YESS!! hal would also love it. Hes next to me btw.

🧿 monolithic-loser follow

the monolith is SO UNDERRATED.

🥏 tanya-heywood follow

🤝 I FELT THAT MY FAV IS LITERALLY TANYA NO ONE KNOWS HER AND MY RAREPAIR IS TANYA/HEYWOOD

🦾 hetty follow

Mine is betty/helena... no one even KNOWS OF THEM. SAPPHIC SHIPS DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER??

📽 sal-amander follow

> My favorite is Sal. I wish people talked about her more.

🤖 discoverydotcom follow

Petition to make the fandom less weird about the women in the book...

🔴 hal10000 follow

IT ISNT A BOOK.

🪐 jupiterreal follow

my god... its full of stars... I THINK ABOUT THAT ENDING SO MUCH. FUCKKKKKKKKK.

💾 heywoodslefttoe follow

IN THE SEQUEL HE COMES BACK BUT LIKE AS A WEIRD GHOST...

🤖 discoverydotcom follow

goddd wanna hear my headcanon ?? I hc he saved hal and they're living together as ghosts.

🔴 hal10000 follow

Bro you're reaching so hard for that ending.

🤖 discoverydotcom follow

LET ME DREAAAAAM

☀️ apolloeleven follow

Transmasc!David Bowman is real and in this essay...

〽️ frankk-pooole follow

REAL... i know dave trust me.

🌐 halmanpoole-shipper follow

Frank and dave transmasc and agender hal is canon

🔦 kaminskyy follow

REALL. T4T4A or something

🦾 hetty follow

Looking at the Discovery RPF tag is SO FUNNY. It's halman porn, davefrank angst, chandra found family and THEN THE MOST SOUL CRUSHING HELENA/BETTY POST CANON FIC EVER... going sooo insane

🔴 hal10000 follow

Sorry we left your boyfriend in space... yea.. hes floating out there for eternity..

🔦 kaminskyy follow

Sometimes i wonder what the irl discovery crew & lenonov crew would think if they saw this.

🔴 hal10000 follow

They'd have a fucking heart attack.

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

LOL

🔴 hal10000 follow

Didnt you block me?

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

Im not a pussy it was a bit jfc

🔴 hal10000 follow

What did i do to you oh my god

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

Wanna make out

🔴 hal10000 follow

?????????

🎰 discovery-alerts follow

HEYWOOD KNOWS ABOUT THE HALFRANK FIC

💾 frankdaveanalsex follow

HUH????

🤖 discoverydotcom follow

NO WHAT THE FUCK NOT THAT ONE???

📺 betty-to-her-helena follow

HOW DID HE FIND THAT?

DOES HE READ DISCOVERY RPF..... NOOOO????

🛸 tsiiiiiiiien follow

OUgh

🛸 tsien follow

SAME PROFILE PIC LOL

Also. WHAT GHE FUCK.

🪽 halleyscomet follow

Whats the halfrank fic?

☀️ apollotwelve follow

You sweet summer child...

[drconstellation]

More Half-and-Half-A-Miracle Thoughts

Part 1: Miracle Power Ranking

Part 2: The Dark side of Aziraphale is here. Part 3: The Third Archangel

I was originally going to add some comments as a reblog to @nofomogirl's post on why the 25 Lazurii miracle was so powerful, but the initial thought I had on the matter slipped away from me during that day, and I was left looking at a glimpse at the viridian green back panel of Aziraphale's waistcoat and wondering what had sparked my original thought, and any attempt to try and grasp it again was a futile as Muriel trying to open Gabriel's file in Heaven.

So I wandered off on other tangents, explored other topics I was curious about, and enjoyed reading the new posts that went up, but the ghost of that viridian green panel kept lurking about with a sharp stick to remind me it was there. So I'm here to post some more thoughts in addition to the op's post that I feel might add to the discussion about the little miracle that worked too well.

I also want to say before I get stuck in (and warning - this is going to be a long one!) that I think no matter how much we discuss this or dig at it, ultimately we just don't have enough information to have a definitive answer as to the why at the moment, and, we may never know. But I'm going to speak because I think I there is at least one thing I haven't seen discussed yet in context with this scene, and should be (at least, I haven't seen it yet - if you have, please let me know.)

So if you're in a TL:DR mode and don't want to open links, here is the list of current theories of why two little "half miracles" made one mighty one:

Theory#1: It's love

Theory #2: It's them

Theory#3: It's a fusion

Theory #4: It's Gabriel

Theory #5: It's the portal (that they did it on top of)

To preface my answering ramble the TL:DR again is - its a fusion of "them" i.e. both #2 and #3 together. As in Aziraphale x Gabriel x Crowley. 3x3x3

Hang on, that's 27! Not 25! yeah, yeah, I'm not that bad at math. And I'll admit it doesn't fit - it doesn't "snap" into place. But its either that or 5x5 and I wanted to consider all three elements in this miracle working together for the discussion at the start. And there seems to an emphasis on 3's as well as 7's (Maybe you can cut the middle out at the end, once you can see the bigger picture I'm trying to present, but lets leave it this way for now. Maybe it will give you another idea...)

Firstly, consider the three elements, working in synergy. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. As Crowley describes it in S2E6: " Apparently, if we do a miracle together, it all works a bit too well." (I was originally thinking of the word "gestalt" but on reflection its probably not the right one.)

"...if we..."

Let's ask who is "we" at this point, and how much miracle power they are contributing to the miracle. Are they contributing equally? Yes? Or no? I want to take a closer look at miracle power: the knowns, the unknowns and the possibilities to explore that.

We've already been told that most day-to-day miracles are down in the mili-Lazurii level, a mere few thousandth of the power of the hiding miracle. And this makes sense - we don't see our protagonists bringing the dead back to life willy-nilly. Aziraphale mentions getting into trouble for doing "too many frivolous miracles." But if its one thing Good Omens stands out for its the conspicuous lack of displays of stupendous power. And this actually doesn't help our understanding of the problem.

Indulge me in a "ranking of power" exercise, if you will.

At the top we have the big three - no, four - er, lets make that five actually! Five ineffably, unarguably, omnipotent entities that every one respects and no one will mess with. They can essentially do what ever they will.

God, and Her (ex-) bestie, Satan.

Azrael, the angel of Death.

Adam Young, the Antichrist, who has retained his powers and is still protecting Tadfield.

And lastly the yet-to be revealed second coming of Jesus Christ.

Lets put them all aside and out of the equation.

Next, we have the Metatron, whom we haven't seen lift a finger, only his voice, yet the mere sight of his face evokes fear. How much miracle power can he wield? That's a big unknown, unfortunately. But being the current right-hand being of the Almighty must give him some serious grunt.

The top brass of the respective bureaucracies starts to raise questions. We have our senior Archangels (the seraphim) and the Dukes of Hell. I have no doubt that Gabriel, as Supreme Archangel of all Heaven, should be capable of performing at least a 1 Lazurii miracle on his own if required, and he could even have the potential to stretch to 25 Lazurii...if he could be bothered.

We know that they can be promoted in an out of those positions, and that raises questions about what happens to their powers when they get promoted or demoted. To gain power when promoted? Or lose it when demoted? Or is it a simply a matter of belief? In which case it might rely on the individual's personality.

When looking for examples of expressed power, in both the book and tv series, it is easier to come up with examples of demonic miracles than angelic miracles, and it makes things look a bit biased, imo. I mean, Crowley aside for the moment (I'll get back to him shortly) you have to be impressed with Hastur's escape from the ansaphone into the call center and manifesting into the mass of maggots, for all he was a bit old fashioned and smelled like poo. Shax playing games with Crowley just outside the shop in S2, manifesting as different characters in rapid succession has to be up there with another good demo of demon power (which it certainly worked to needle Crowley into losing his temper with them.)

What do we see the Archangels do in comparison? Hmm. Bitch and snitch. Gossip with Hell on the back stairs. Pretend to be buying pornography from Aziraphale. Then physically punch our angel in guts for fraternizing with a demon before disappearing back to Heaven . Not much.

OK, so Gabriel arrives on a lightning bolt at Tadfield airbase

and there is that intriguing discussion with Sandalphon regarding Sodom and Gomorrah (just read above the cut, that's the important bit for this meta later on) where he was doing quite a bit of smiting, but its all off screen and in the distant past, we don't actually see them in action.

Which brings us back to Crowley and Aziraphale. And then more Aziraphale manipulating Crowley into performing miracles for him so he doesn't have to (the little minx.) The list of miracles I can think of that we have seen Crowley do is far longer and seems more impressive than what Aziraphale has done. Oh, but there is the Eldritch Ball, you say? Controlling multiple people at once? (Hold that thought.) He also sent the soldier at the entry gate of the Tadfield airbase all the way back to his home in the USA in an instant (according to the book) and he flew the moped with both Madame Tracey and Shadwell over the top of the Odegra ring of demon fire to get to Tadfield (again, as mentioned in the book.) And as the op back here says, why didn't they just manifest themselves out? Idiots...

On to Part 2: The Dark Side of Aziraphale.

[kyomunosaki]

Geminism Trial, thoughts and observations

I just noticed Geminism's trial is out, so this will be a short post on my thoughts regarding it. I've been eagerly waiting for this game for a few years now, especially since I'm a massive fan of Sayonara wo Oshiete, and this brings back a ton of the staff from that era.

I've tagged some other games that are related / probably inspirations, so take that as you will if you're seeing this post randomly lol

Overall Thoughts: An amazing introduction to a game that I've been excited for, for a while now. The writing style in Japanese is absolutely amazing, unique and got me absolutely hooked, and the visual and sound direction are just phenomenal. I want to also note it has the best direction of presentation I've ever seen from a visual novel to date, with tons of cool cut-ins and effects. I cannot wait to experience the full version of this game.

There will be at least some minor spoilers with OOC screenshots and whatnot in the rest of this post, so keep that in mind if you read!

First thing I noticed was that the game is in Unity, so I wonder if it'll take advantage of effects and stuff at all? It makes sense for the CRAFTWORK staff that I know of to work in an engine like this though, since they have some wizards there.

I like that they open their eyes when you hover over the game button, this sort of presentation in VNs adds a lot since it's like the cover to a book or album, it gives something to the rest of the atmosphere that's hard to describe.

The settings screen is super neat, but also the "戦局" screen being there is super interesting. I think it's something like a TIPS page that some older ADVs have, so it serves as a reference as you read. I'm guessing who has what body part is going to be important throughout the work.

I also find it funny that Awasumi's voice is at 100% by default while the rest are like 60%, and I really wonder if that's because a certain famous someone voices him, who's using the pen name 杯瑠万花 (literally read as: Pile Bunker, I'm not joking)

The visual style reminds me a LOT of Ciconia, I wouldn't be surprised if it's a direct inspiration. The widescreen NVL format with the film grain + blurred backgrounds just screams that was an influence on this game.

The OP being called "twyndyllyngs ~Fuguai no Alice~" is kinda funny in mind with the last point too, since Ciconia draws a lot from TRianThology in turn as well.

The visual direction is indeed amazing, I haven't seen anything like this since going through some of Shumon Yuu's stuff ages ago. Should also be noted this game has proper scene jump as well, which is damn impressive to implement into Unity of all engines.

The writing style is actually really excellent overall, I love lines line this in particular. It's harder to read than say, SayoOshi though. It should be noted that it's getting an English release on the same day as the Japanese one too, so it's cool that it's going to be so accessible and something actually done by a first-party and not some underpaid localizer.

I just realized it's somewhat like Muramasa with the sprites, which is pretty funny when her main one looks so relaxed here.

And yeah, the writing is really damn good and funny so far. I've also realized the game is just mixed weirdly, which is why Sugita's character is 100% volume lol. He's doing a damn amazing job too, I wouldn't have been able to tell it was him if not for his voice PV which pointed out how obvious it was him with the lines they used.

The other 3 voice actors as well, Nakaya Shiho, Nakaya Naho and Sumeragi Mikado all do amazing jobs as well. I really like that the Nakayas chose their pen names to seem like siblings. Also it should be brought up that they do vocals for the OP, which I think is amazing.

It should probably also be stated that it's still 100% a CRAFTWORK game, so expect some extremely graphic and definitely triggering psychosexual content if you read this.

I can't get a pic that's as out of context as these, but the visual effects are pretty crazy. They definitely take advantage of having a more traditional game engine, which is pretty amazing since Unity is somewhat infamous in terms of VNs.

Another no pic thing but the choices are like Fallout 4, where it's just a truncated form of what you actually say, and I think that's kinda funny.

Excellent! I don't have much more to add at the end here, but if you got this far thanks for reading! I'm always looking for new JVN mutuals, especially anyone who reads stuff in Japanese, so please hit me up!

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Congratulations, you so deserve all the followers and many, many more!!! As you know I am a HUGE fan of Heat and recommend it to all my friends. Anyhoo my ask is ⚖️🤨✨

My wonderful and most prolific cheerleader! I’m SUPER sorry for the ridiculous wait on this, but I finally got around to your wild Marcus Pike/Sex Pollen?! prompt. I really hope I did this sweet boy justice and that all the banter and smut make up for keeping you waiting so long~!

Thanks, as always, to @just-here-for-the-moment for putting up with my ass and beta reading to make sure this wasn’t complete trash and smutty enough.

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Spanish woman, written by a Latina. Here’s my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 17,000

🚨Author chooses not to include detailed warnings, but the following: Mentions of Teresa Lisbon, marriage, con artist behavior, crime, past relationships, unrequited love, sex pollen, deception, undercover work, graphic depictions of unprotected sex, and slight hurt-comfort.

Haze

There was a time when you were simply a skilled vixen – an entrancing, expert wheeler of the power of suggestion who'd been skimming your way through affluent circles from city to city, but never enough to draw attention to yourself. At least unless you wanted to.

Then, it'd all changed with a chance fumble that was spotted by the least likely source.

He'd been the special agent that had ensnared you and brought you into the fold – propositioning you into using your talents to sharpen the skills of the task force he'd taken the lead position in D.C. for. His team admittedly needed the consultation of someone with the experience and sophistication of being entrenched in the art world, albeit from the wrong side of the law. And you fit the bill.

You hadn't had much choice, considering the prospect of prison for your femme fatale lifestyle to date, and the precarious situation you'd been caught in by said special agent. So, you'd agreed to a career as an indentured asset to the bureau, with the tenure of your time working within the task force at his total discretion.

It had been a contentious adjustment.

Part of you was incredulous that you'd been foiled by the likes of Marcus Pike, and part of him was perplexed that rather than be eager to happily oblige the task force – and him, as its leader, you instead were intent to buck all conventions. This included a vexing, seemingly incessant need to push his buttons – buttons he never even knew he had.

Overtime, though, you'd both found a status quo – a begrudging understanding of how you'd each need to operate and let the other maneuver in order for the arrangement to work.

"—Hope you're not having another late night, Savedra. Not with all the work we have to tackle on this case—"

"Ah, I wonder: Was there ever a time in your life that you weren't in your pajamas and nursing your warm milk before Nick at Nite comes on, Pike? That you went out and had fun without fretting over an early bedtime? Don't worry, I'll be in bright and early—"

"That's what you said the last time, though—"

"Extenuating circumstances beyond my control, Pikey boy—"

"A 'couture trunk show' is Manhattan is hardly a good enough excuse to blame as an 'extenuating circumstance'—"

"To someone who wears the same rumpled suits? Oh, I'm sure it isn't. Now c'mon, Pike's Delight, tell me: How hard did the cashier at Kohl's laugh at you when you bought three versions of the same tie on-sale?"

"They did not—! This tie was a gift, actually—"

The pinch between his brows, the twitch of his lips fighting not to pull into a scowl, and the gruff way he countered back were his unmistakable tells that you'd needled him just right.

"You literally wore one that looked exactly like it the other day, and there was the blue version you had on for the inter-agency ops meeting last week—"

"They're completely different colors, though—"

"But they have the same dull polka dot configuration and they're the same exact semi-satin fabric, which makes them different versions of the same tie—"

"Alright, Dandy Lion. Give it a rest, and go before I set a curfew for your comings and goings."

Your smirk had been charming as you turned to lope down the hall towards the elevators, tossing a casual wave over your shoulder.

"Have a nice night, Pike."

The snappy repartee between you two had become notorious within the task force, and many couldn't help be amused – and take bets – on which of the two of you would have the last word, and the best zinger. Pike tended to score the most in the former, while you easily dominated the latter.

Still, though, Marcus found ways to rein you in, and started to take secret satisfaction in exasperating you right back.

"—I do not appreciate you freezing my accounts, Pike—"

"First of all, it's a single account, although I am considering having all your accounts frozen. Even the ones you think we don't know about—"

"That seems punitive and uncalled for—"

"The account in question is a corporate account, Savedra. It is for work-related expenses, not for lavish shopping hauls at Nordstroms—"

"Um, excuse me, that was a work-related expense. You want me to impersonate a wealthy socialite traveling to London for a black-market art auction, remember? I can't seriously be expected to do so without having the latest Fall must-haves—"

"Oh, so three Mooglar dresses and three Loubootan heels are the Fall must-haves, eh?"

Your full lips flattened in that peeved way for a nanosecond – the tell that indicated he'd successfully annoyed you before you placed your hands on your hips and smoothly deadpanned, "It's Mugler and Louboutin, Pike. And yes, they are essential if you want anyone to believe my cover—"

"You can expense one outfit. The costs of the other two will be docked from your stipend for next month—"

"So, it wouldn't be a good time to mention that I also pre-ordered a limited-edition Chanel purse…?"

"…How much?"

"Oh, it's an absolute steal! And, it'll only go up in value—"

"How much, Dandy Lion?"

You knew he meant business whenever he refers to you by your codename.

"Just a little over six grand…"

"That's more than three times your monthly stipend—!"

"…So then you'll let me expense it to the corporate card?"

"...Close the door on your way out, Savedra."

The smug purse of your lips indicated you'd been teasing him, and you confirmed so by chiming over your shoulder as you strolled out, "No worries. I already have a Chanel bag that'll work for the trip."

"Good. I'll make sure to call the Shanell store and let them know to go ahead and cancel that order, then—"

Pausing at the door, you turn to shoot a berating glare at him where he's sat behind his desk, and scoff condescendingly, "Oh my god, you are purposely butchering the label—you know damn well it's Cha-nel, not Sha-nell!"

You see the sly little quirk to the corner of his mouth he coolly veils by dropping his chin low as he shrugs and drawls, "Dully noted, dandelion."

You pursed your lips and grunted a cavalier sound before strutting out, deciding then and there you needed to do some forensic accounting of your own.

According to his records – the ones you pulled up after hacking into the bureau's internal database, Marcus Pike had been an FBI agent from right out of college. Graduating with honors from a Criminal Justice major, he'd been recruited, gotten stellar marks in Quantico, and received several letters of recommendation. He had an impeccable record, and was frankly a poster boy for a government do-gooder.

A few more backdoor breaches and search engine deep dives later, and you were able to paint quite a full picture from the social media collage-like bits of information you were able to access from college buddies, family friends, and federal databases.

Circumventing the encryption of his email provider allowed you an administrator's view of his account, and you were mystified that this man archived so many communications, no matter how inane, dated, or of innocuous consequence they seemed.

At least until you found the consequential stuff.

There was the correspondence with his divorce attorney from over a decade prior, the utility bills for the home he'd once shared with his ex-wife, the frank and disarmingly candid emails between said ex and him – one of which had the doozy of a line: I love you, Marcus, but I don't think I'm in love with you. I'm not really sure I ever was.

You felt guilty reading his response. Not because you were invading his privacy, but because you could feel how sympathetic he was towards basically being told how having married him had been a mistake – that they'd been fools who rushed into it at a young age before they even knew what they wanted in life. His answer, which was brimming with a veiled, resigned sadness to it that tugged at a heartstring – I guess I just got ahead of myself and took you along with me. I'm sorry – was a window into Marcus you didn't expect to get, nor feel deserving of having.

And then seeing the emails between him and an Agent Teresa Lisbon? How they'd gone from platonic forwards of suggested restaurants to check out, to apartment photos sent back and forth between them? Jumping then abruptly to a galling 'Dear John'-style email from her where she apologizes to him and offers to go in person in order to handle the shipping of her belongings back to Dallas, and promising to properly discuss her decision to break things off with him and not take the job he got for her at the D.C. FBI Major Crimes unit after all?

You'd been astounded.

"Did he really ask her to marry him after a couple of months of dating?!" was your flabbergasted rhetorical question to your empty office during the afterhours snoopfest.

Using your powers of suggestion, you'd eventually gotten more of the details from the task force's tech expert who'd come from the Dallas office with Pike, having befriended the congenial guy who tended to get very chatty over caffeinated drink breaks.

"—Totally brutal. Like, one minute he was smitten and cajoling her into picking an apartment, then he was fist-pumping about her saying yes to his impromptu proposal, and boom – she dumps him for Jane. Talk about getting mind-fucked," he prattled on over coffee, none the wiser that you were internally cataloguing everything.

However, this wasn't the usual fact-finding on a mark that you were used to undertaking.

Pike hadn't struck you as a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, and you perplexingly felt complicit in capitalizing on manipulating your way further into the good graces of the bureau thanks to him vouching for you with the powers that be, knowing now how much of a true-blue good guy he was. Even when he was getting his heart torn out and stomped on.

You ignored the thought about the parallels between he and you in that regard.

"—You with us, Savedra?"

Focusing back onto the meeting you're currently in, you curtly nod to Pike and quip, "Yes, I was just thinking about who would be best suited for the undercover side of the operation, since no offense, none of your fellas really fit the bill."

"Oh?" Marcus crosses his arms and leans back into the wall next to the projector screen that's currently displaying the pattern of the art theft ring's hits. "Care to share why you think so?"

Glancing across at the male agents, before arching a brow when you look at Pike, you gesture to the screen and explain, "The museums aren't the pattern; it's what they took that reveals the pattern. The items taken were antiquities – meaning requiring large crates and secure shipping out of country. Antiquity theft is a perfect front for the real heist: Moving narcotics across borders. They get packed in with the stolen piece, and act as payment for the traffickers moving it."

As you explain, you pull out your tablet and take over the screen of the laptop attached to the projector to screenshare several examples of police busts showing drugs packed in with stolen sculptures.

"There is a very elite pool of players with the means and networks to pull this kind of heist off, and based on the size of these antiquities? I think we're dealing with The Jackal."

Everyone exchanges looks of varying degrees of confusion before Marcus furrows his brow and queries, "Who?"

You roll your eyes as you seamlessly pull up the digital dossier that you'd taken the liberty to compile for the meeting. "It's a wonder how this task force is meant to achieve a damn thing, with the lack of intel you guys have involving actual international art theft…" is your aloof musing as you pull up a database cataloguing the thefts of antiquities and ancient artifacts. "So, The Jackal, boys and girls, is the head of an intercontinental ring of thieves operating in the Mediterranean the last five years or so. No one knows his true identity, but many of the buyers who were captured and cooperated with authorities in Egypt and Greece have given details about how they network."

"Ok…and what leads you to believe that no one here is suited to go undercover on this?" Marcus questions, crossed arms tightening as he eyes you intently when you give him a mischievous look.

"So, there's no way to actually infiltrate this ring. Which makes this operation moot. However, if we impersonate the ring to one of the trafficking syndicates, we might be able to find the buyers and retrieve the artifacts. And right now? None of your fellas resemble the description on file for The Jackal—"

"Wait, you want an agent to go undercover as The Jackal?" Marcus cuts in before he braces his hands onto the conference table so he can lean against it after you nod dramatically. "Well then. Care to tell us your plan?"

You do, detailing the honeypot-trap-style plan and how you'd be the facilitator for The Jackal and the targeted traffickers.

"—However, like I said, we don't have anyone who currently fits the bill for The Jackal—"

"And what is the bill?" Marcus inquires before remarking, "You just said so yourself. No one knows what this guy looks like—"

"No, but most do know rumors of what he's supposedly done, and his physical description leaves a lot lacking, but paints a general picture: Tall, broad-shouldered, boxer-like physique, tan skin, dark hair, strong jaw, dark eyes, and a well-kept beard. His demeanor is intense, intimidating, reticent, but quickly prone to violence," you elaborate, pointedly glancing around at every agent at the conference table, silently noting to Pike how none of them fit the description.

"However, I think with some sprucing up and a change of grooming habits, we might have a decent candidate," you remark coolly before you tap on your tablet screen to pull up a current badge photo of an agent in the task force that you think could be transformed to go undercover.

Marcus glances over at his own I.D. photo and watches the gif animation you created that augments his appearance by adding a beard and lengthening his hair slightly.

Some of the other agents have to stifle snickers or check their smirks as you innocently smile at their boss, who is glaring sharply at you.

Needless to say, when it's just you and him in his office after the meeting, you are able to argue your case effectively.

Marcus spends extra time at the gym, and grows out his hair in preparation. He even agrees to allow for your styling of him when the time comes.

A month later, Marcus has grown a beard and let his hair shag out into a more rugged style. You've been covertly taking notice, appreciating how his boring dress shirts now cling to his shoulders and accentuate the muscle of his pectorals and arms. It would still be another month before the seeds you'd planted for the sting operation had taken root, and likely a couple of additional weeks after that to actually execute the operation, so you figured you'd use the time wisely while your guy Pike threw himself into work across the task force's other major cases.

Marcus had gotten to a point with you where he didn't see you just as a rambunctious asset anymore, and with your cooperation and aptitude for the work, he began to categorize you as an integral member of the task force.

After all, you'd ingratiated yourself with the other agents and techs, helped train everyone in how to spot forgeries from the real things, and had volunteered to be the lure on certain cases, as well as his expert when it came to navigating relations with the bigger international agencies. There had been many times now he'd been complimented on the ingenuity of employing you to the cause, and there'd at least been one offer to take you off his hands if he was inclined to part with your expertise and charm.

Marcus took the praise in stride, and summarily declined the offer.

You were smart, resourceful, and masterful when it came to the work. His team was better for it, and he recognized – privately – that he was lucky to have you helping the task force look so skilled in cracking cases.

And the fact you were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen wasn't bad, either.

Still, he'd learned his lesson on courting while on the job, and you were definitely not someone he could earnestly consider as, well, anything more than an unconventional resource with a riskily long leash he was responsible for.

However, he debates about how sustainable this whole arrangement was, long-term. He'd gotten better at reading you, though, so he decides to bide his time for the right moment to discuss where your ambitions currently sit. After all, just because you were an 'indentured servant' didn't mean you weren't looking ahead to things – to a life after you'd done your time.

He wondered if you might want to become an in-field consultant, permanently. You'd partnered with the agents on his team on a whole variety of cases, and had earned their respect. Hell, they trusted you, and from what he could see, it seemed to be vice versa with you as well. And with every case you participated in, Marcus saw something new that slowly peeled the mystique and chipped away at the impression he had of you.

From witnessing how truly charming you could be while talking to foreign officials, to how genuinely kind and selfless you'd been when empathizing with victims of a museum heist, to the infectious warmth you exuded when the team was on downtime after a particularly grueling case. All these different facets had started to form a better picture of the woman you really were, and Marcus found himself looking forward to learning more.

When he returns from a short trip to Dallas for a deposition after a couple of days and heads up to the task force's floor to catch up on work late in the evening, he walks by your office and finds you pacing around with your tablet, in the middle of strategizing the big operation.

"That's a big artifact you've pulled from the archive," Marcus comments after he's watched you map things out.

You whirl around and snicker at seeing him lope in to survey what you've pinned to the transparent board in your office.

"Go big or go home, Shaggy," you can't help razz, grinning when he gives you a deriding look. "What? It's a good look for you, Pike—"

"Careful, Savedra. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment," he puckishly taunts and slips his hands into his gray slacks pockets when you squint humorously at him.

"Well, that's because it was," you remark simply, turning to retrieve your stylus from the desk and missing the way his features etched with surprise. "I think another couple of weeks of beard growth, and you'll be ready. Oh! And at some point, we have to go get you fitted for a couple of suits—"

Frowning, he crosses his arms and grumbles, "I have plenty of suits—"

"Correction: You have plenty of sad, drab, 'I clearly work for the FBI' suits. Nothing dashing and stylishly-tailored like what The Jackal has been rumored to wear," is your matter-of-fact counter as you sketch out a floorplan for the honeypot's meet room.

He grunts noncommittally and runs his fingers across his moustache as he looks over the map of the warehouse planned for the fake stolen art depot. "Well, it's a good thing I have a fashionista on the books who'll help spruce up my wardrobe, then, wildcat," he drawls in a raspy musing, and you can't help glance his way and admire the broad set of his shoulders under the gray blazer.

"So, how was Dallas?" you find yourself asking as you busy yourself saving the schematic that's on your tablet screen.

He turns halfway to look at you, as if surprised, before shrugging and recovering the aloof look on his features while he turns back to the board. "It was uneventful," is all he replies, but by the way he balances his weight onto one leg and crosses his arms tight, you can tell he's lying, but trying to be cool about it.

He's lying to himself—trying to convince himself it was uneventful.

You hum, and set your tablet and stylus aside on your sideboard before sitting on the edge of your appointed desk. "Well then, Pike's Delight! Please tell me you'll do something eventful? Have a wild weekend planned? Or are you going to spend it organizing your sock drawer—?"

He turns with a snort to snicker, "Give me a little credit. If you keep the sock drawer organized, you don't have to spend time getting it organized," and at your chuckle, he adds, "I'll spend it likely how I did last weekend—"

"Oh, let me guess: Farmer's market, then back to your place for dinner in front of the TV—"

"…I don't always go to the farmer's market to grocery shop, but yeah, dinner and a movie, sure—"

"Bet things were riotous at the produce stand—Oh! And I bet you watched something racy on Lifetime?" you can't help jibe irreverently as you cross your arms and lean into your perched seat more.

"Nope," Marcus smoothly refutes, before admitting, "It was TCM, and nothing racy."

You smile, truly amused. "Food shopping outside, cooking, and a Turner Classic Movie? Sounds like some action-packed shi—"

"Instead of ragging on it, you should try it out for yourself," Marcus finds himself blurting charismatically before he's registered the gravity of such a proposition. Your features betray mild intrigue, as if you're waiting for him to say something else to signal it's a joke. When he begins to muse, "Ah, I only mean—it's a cool spot with great vendors. I'm not much of a splurger on that kind of thing, but every once in a while, I go and get stuff to whip up a nice dinner—"

"Oh? Have you been holding out on me, Pikey boy? Are you a secret foodie?" you chime with a lilting tone, smile brilliant when he scoffs, as if caught. "You are! Well then, now I gotta see this 'nice dinner' and be the judge of your culinary compétence, cowboy. Although, I'm pretty sure I can whip up a way more delicious supper—"

"I'm gonna have to see that for myself, so it's settled, wildcat."

How you ended up making plans to meet up at the farmer's market on a lovely autumn afternoon to ingredient shop and have a cook-off at Pike's place is beyond you, but then again, he had a way of wearing your guard down into lightheartedness, and it wasn't the first time you'd had fun just bantering with him either. So, here you were, with your canvas tote at your shoulder over your nondescript leather carryall purse as you glance around for the agent in the promenade's foot traffic. Thinking about the puckish smirk he had on his full lips when he called you 'wildcat' – the nickname he seemed to prefer when he wanted to disarm you, while 'dandelion' is what he used when he was charmed by you.

"Well, you actually showed."

You turn to see Marcus in a pair of comfy-looking jeans, light-gray Henley shirt, and dark leather jacket with matching boots and belt.

He eyes you with an appraising glance before admitting, "I had to do a double-take to make sure it was you. I think I've only ever seen you in fancy tailored outfits the entire time you've been with us."

"I'm just channeling a cool and relaxed normie at a farmer's market," you tease as you smoothen down your comfy thin-cotton terracotta sweatshirt, feeling at ease in the formfitting black jeggings and cognac-colored boots.

"It suits you," he compliments before his brain has registered the inappropriateness of it.

You can't help smile before you hand him the shopping tote and deride, "That's quite the compliment, I suppose. Now make yourself useful and carry this so I can have my hands free to peruse, hot stuff."

Huffing in amusement, he takes the tote and falls in step with you as you both start strolling through the bustling outdoor farmer's market.

It's an afternoon filled with light conversation, quipping repartee, and lots of shopping thanks to you both agreeing to a friendly cookoff back at Pike's place. Once your shopping tote is full and he's carrying two paper bags filled with items, you both head down to the nearest metro station and ride the line to his stop.

The walk to his apartment is pleasant, even though you're arguing.

"—Why keep it a secret?"

"Because you'll have a smart remark and develop an instant bias—"

"We're cooking in the same space, Pike—"

"So? You just make your dishes without spying over at mine—"

"Ugh, fine. Oh, we haven't discussed what the winner will get—"

"Lifelong bragging rights?" Marcus proposes smugly as he keys open the entry door and holds it open for you.

"That's it?" you snicker while opening the foyer door and holding it open for him.

"What else is there?" he jokes as he leads the way to the elevator.

Once you're both in and he's pressed the button for his floor, you chime, "How about if you win, I'll quit ragging on you for a week, and if I win, you let me out of my servitude—?"

"That's hardly equal in value, dandelion," is his glib counter as the elevator doors slide open.

"Alright, M. Then what do you propose?" you lilt sardonically while he leads the way to his door and keys in.

Marcus grunts a humored sound, thanks to your James Bond codename reference growing on him the more you use it in convivial conversation.

"Winner gets to pick the movie?" he compromises as he opens his door and gestures for you to enter.

You do so, and take in his bachelor abode with so much veiled intrigue that it takes you a moment to think of a retort to his proposal. "Uh, fine. Sure," you finally singsong, as if resigned to it, but really you don't mind it.

After all, you're too busy admiring the art on his walls.

The apartment was cozy. He had a large L-shaped sectional couch and mid-century modern side tables mixed in with functional bookshelves and accent pieces that made the space warm, yet tastefully elevated compared to the general bachelor pad.

It's an open floorplan, so the kitchen is adjacent to the living room with the island separating the spaces, making it easy for Marcus to catch your appraising surveying after he's set the grocery bags down on the counter next to the stove.

"Alright. C'mon, let me have it," he charismatically jibes, gesturing for you to go ahead and voice your critiques of his place.

You chuckle and shake your head irreverently as you lope over to set down your full canvas tote onto the opposite side of the kitchen island from where he's standing.

"I'm impressed, actually," you tell him honestly, smirking when his brows arch up in surprise. "No, really. Being confronted with proof that you do have good taste is quite gratifying—"

"And there it is," he scoffs and blows a raspberry as he sheds his leather jacket and tosses it onto the nearest kitchen table chair's back before hiking up his Henley's sleeves and drawling, "Alright, Barefoot Contessa, let's get this show going. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Placing your purse on the end table with the lamp and strolling around to go to his sink, you nod towards the record player stand with the organized shelf filled with vinyl albums you spotted next to the entertainment center and remark as you wash your hands, "Impressive collection. What's the last record you had playing?"

He's just finished setting out all his ingredients onto his designated end of the kitchen island when he quirks a taunting brow and drawls, "Nothing you'd be into, I'm sure—"

"Hah, try me. Put it on, and I bet I can guess what it is—"

"If you can't, then you have to tell me your favorite album, and if I don't have it, you have to pull it up on your phone and play it," he challenges with a charming smile as he goes to the record player.

"Deal," you chirp as you take stock of his kitchen before checking in the bottom cabinets for the pots and pans that you'll need.

You get a head start on setting up for your cooking thanks to him fiddling with the record player before you hear the speakers crisply come on as the distinctive intro to the song reverberates through.

At the melodic plucking of guitar strings, you smirk and shout over your shoulder, "'Roundabout' by Yes, off of their album 'Fragile'."

Marcus is impressed, poking his head around from where the wall beam blocks you in the kitchen. "Well, shit. It didn't even get to the chorus—"

"I told you, Pike. I know my stuff," you smugly rub in as you start to chop vegetables on the cutting board you found in the nearest drawer.

"Marcus."

You pause and look back over at him with a curiously arched brow when he lopes in and leans his shoulder against the beam after crossing his arms, casual and relaxed as he stares with warmth in his dark brown eyes at you.

"We're off the clock, so…you can call me Marcus," he elaborates.

"Well then, you do the same," you tell him softly before dipping your chin down to hide your delighted smile as you resume chopping.

He leaves the album to play, and you can see his broad frame near in your peripheral. His baritone is like velvet over steel when he says your name, then rasps, "—We're each doing three courses still?"

Your brain fixates on how Marcus said your first name for the first time. Not the shortened version some of the other agents and techs refer to you by while at happy hour, but your full first name, and he enunciates it the way it's meant to be, which sends an exhilarated, effervescent tickle up your spine.

Heat tingles into the seat of your core, for some odd reason. "Yes. Best of two out of three wins, and gets to pick the movie," is your smooth retort as you cube the rest of the tomato. "Now, quit cheating and go to your corner of the kitchen!"

He chuckles and hops to it, seeming unconcerned with the needing to do any prep for his dishes.

"So, you're into 70's rock?" he queries as he washes his hands in the sink.

"I like all music. But c'mon, that was a classic. Anyone would've guessed right—"

"You'd be surprised," he counters affably as he dries his hands on a dishtowel. "If it isn't from the last decade, most people can't name it—"

"By most people, do you mean 'most women I break out the record collection to' can't name it?" you joke, smirking over your shoulder at him when he turns to look at you coyly. You're tempted to ask, 'Did Agent Lisbon pass your music test?' but decide against it, and instead muse, "Well, lucky for you, I have great taste – in all things."

Marcus glances over at you, and smirks, remarking in a cool hum, "It would seem so."

The cook-off becomes more of a banter session while you both work on your dishes, maneuvering around each other and trying to keep your attention on your individual courses in order not to spoil the surprise of the grand reveals.

"—You were in a band?!"

"Yep. Back in the day—"

"Oh! Let me guess…you played rhythm guitar—"

"Nope! I played bass, and sang vocals. Well, backup vocals, mostly—"

"So you can totally play the bass riff in 'Roundabout', right?"

"Most definitely. Although, don't ask me to sing—"

"I wasn't. I was going to demand that you sing—"

"Quit trying to distract me. I'm doing delicate work here, wildcat—"

"You've literally not started anything on the stove—"

"My dishes are fairly quick, though, so I'm being chivalrous and giving you the advantage��for now," Marcus roguishly quips while seamlessly uncorking a bottle of wine, pouring a serving into a nice glass before handing it to you with easy charm.

You giggle despite yourself before sipping the wine.

Before long, you have enough of your meals in progress that you offer to change the record while Marcus starts marinating and whisking things in the kitchen.

"Oh, you do have my favorite album!" you exclaim convivially, causing Marcus to grin as he seasons his main entrée's protein. "Ok, I'm putting it on, and you better be able to guess—"

"Ah, I will, dandelion. Go on," he lobs humorously over his shoulder as he starts to cook.

The aromatic cornucopia of cooking fills the apartment with so many interwoven scents that it's difficult for either of you to decipher what the other's dishes are, and all his pots and pans have opaque lids, or are in the oven covered with tinfoil.

Marcus is contemplating taking a little peek at one of the simmering pans you have on the back burner when he hears the record start playing.

The instrumental piano bars sound prescient through the speakers, but Marcus knows instantly what album it is.

"That's 'Imagine' by John Lennon, off of the 'Imagine' album," he declares as he gets the griddle hot on the available burner, smiling broadly before asking, "This is really your favorite album?"

"Yes! I love John Lennon—"

"I'm more of a Paul McCartney guy."

And so begins the next round of banter between you.

Soon enough, though, you're both plating your dishes and hiding them on the opposite ends of the kitchen's countertops before Marcus sets the table and brings over the bottle of wine to top off both your glasses.

"—Alright, ladies first," Marcus declares as he sits on one end of the square table.

You are more than happy to go first, believing there's no way he can top any of your three dishes.

"Well, M. First, I present a bruschetta with both heirloom and cherry tomatoes," you place the dish before him, and Marcus marvels at how delicate yet rich all the ingredients look on the toasted crostini-style breads.

"Next, is a black bean and mushroom risotto," is your lilting announcement as you return and place the piping dish down, smiling as he leans forward to catch the curling aroma wafting up from the center of the risotto.

"And finally, herb roasted chicken breast with garlic confit mashed potatoes," is your confident declaration as you place the dish down.

"Wow," is all Marcus can muster as he eyes the gourmet-looking spread you were able to whip up. Begrudgingly impressed, he scrapes his palm along his bearded cheek as he marvels, "This…this is good—"

"You can't say so until you've tried it," you snicker as you sit across from him. "Well? Time to show yours, Mr. Confident."

Marcus's lips quirk at the moniker, and the dark gleam of cocky amusement warms his eyes before he stands from his seat.

"Ok, close your eyes. I'm gonna carry all three out at the same time."

You do as you're asked, smiling goofily at the mental image of him in a ruffled apron effortlessly flouncing around a kitchen with all the dishes balanced in his arms.

"Ta-da!"

You open your eyes, and stare dubiously at the three courses he's placed before you before shooting a snarky stare up at him.

"Oh my god. You literally went the Denny's route?!"

"Hah, Denny's got nothing on any of my dishes! Here is my special vanilla-cinnamon French toast with homemade sausage patties and pure maple syrup. Texas-toast grilled cheese with Monterrey jack and cheddar cheese – with a creamy tomato soup with freshly-picked basil sprinkled on top for dipping. And last, but not least, cheese burgers with lettuce, onion, and tomato, and hand-cut steak fries, with my own mix of salt, pepper and dry-rub buffalo seasoning sprinkled on 'em," Marcus grandly presents and gestures to every dish before giving you a boyish little smile.

Diplomatically, you stand to arrange all the dishes to be within reaching distance for you both before you pat the chair nearest you, indicating he should sit there rather than across from you.

"Ok, cowboy. Let's dig in while it's all still hot!"

You both try each other's dishes, and are blown away by how delicious they are. Then, you eat from your own courses, and trade compliments. Soon enough, the bottle of wine is dry and you're both full – unable to eat another bite. So you help Marcus pack what's left and store it away while continuing to rate which of you won out in the cookoff.

"—How about this: We call it a tie, and we'll surf through the channels until we find a movie we both want to watch?" Marcus proposes as he uncorks the new bottle of wine while you take your boots off and set them aside by the front door.

"No! C'mon, no participation trophy draw," you challenge with a goofy scoff before rounding his couch to meet him halfway to take the offered glass of wine.

"Ok, then you tell me, who medaled in each course?" he derides as he puts the bottle onto the kitchen island and joins you on the sofa with his own topped off glass.

"Hmm, let's see…I think scrumptious breakfast always trumps its challenger, so my bruschetta is out," you rationalize out loud and cross your legs as you lean back into the comfy cushion. At his proud grunt, you quickly caveat, "But! While I really liked your burger, I think my herb roasted chicken was slightly better."

"Alright, so then the tie-breaker is the second course round," he remarks, and at your hum in agreement, he honestly rumbles, "I really liked your risotto."

"And I really liked your grilled cheese and tomato soup. So I think we're stuck with one win each," is your faux huff, but the smirk pulling you lips is impish when he squints dubiously at you. "What? Do you disagree with my assessments?"

"I don't," he drawls, picking up the remote with his free hand before offering it to you. "Start surfin', wildcat."

You do, and end up surprising him by stopping on the TCM channel and looking over at him when the movie description lists Gold Diggers of 1933 as the film that was about to begin.

"This is a good one. Up for watching it—?"

"You like old movies?"

"Well, yes. There are few good ones. I think I've must've seen Casablanca in six different languages at this point," you retort with genuine delight and shrug when he balks at you.

"Really? Casablanca?" he asks, truly charmed when you smile sheepishly for the first time. "No, I'm not teasing. I just don't think I've ever met anyone other than my grandmother who liked that movie too—"

"Well, I moved around a lot, and no matter where you're at in the world, classic cinema will be playing on some channel or at a theater. Watching old movies overseas – when they dub over the English, or at least list the subtitles beneath? It's a great way to learn the language," is your thoughtful rationale as you shift to comfortably sit in a way that you're angled towards him. "They're filled with old-fashion charm, glitz and glamour – even when they're dark and tragic stories...but this one is a silly romp of a musical, if you're into that kind of thing."

He knew your history from the intel reports he'd been given after you'd been detained. Clearing his throat, he set his wine glass aside and got comfortable on his end of the sofa, making the split decision not to broach the topic further.

"I've only seen parts of this one, so I'm good with watching it," is Marcus's easygoing remark, glancing over at you with a smile as he assures, "Go on. Stretch out and take a load off. If you get chilly, help yourself to the throw blanket."

You don't have to be told twice.

Soon enough, you're both engrossed in the film. You sit with your legs tucked underneath you, the blanket over your lap, and your arm folded over the back cushion while Marcus lounges with his sock-clad feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table. Every so often, one of you points out something, or joke around during the short commercial breaks.

"—I find it real telling how you spent so much time raggin' on my low-key evening plans," he chuckles now after he's finished his latest glass of wine. When you feign incomprehension, he rolls his eyes and rumbles, "You're just as big of a relaxed homebody as me—"

You snort, conspiratorially leaning towards him, a bit uninhibited now that the wine is cruising through your bloodstream, and confide in a flirty murmur, "What can I say, Marcus. I just enjoy hassling you."

A flicker of thrill flares in his apex at your words and the beguiling smile you give him. The alcohol's started flushing his cheeks, but the blush that creeps up his neck is definitely not from all the imbibing.

"I kind of picked up on that…eventually," he finds himself replying, lopsided smirk infinitely endearing to you. He was just about to say something else, when the commercial break ended and the movie returned on screen.

Before long, that film ends, and you're both in such a mellow state that you end up watching the next movie that runs right after it.

You talk during the breaks for that film too, and are charmed to learn more about each other.

"—So your mom liked art?"

"Yeah. She loved watercolors. Every so often, she'd take me to the museum when they had a new exhibit. Growing up, she wanted to be a painter…"

He tells you about how he'd grown up of humble means. His father had died when he was still very young, so his grandparents – a retired police deputy and first-grade teacher – helped raise him while his widowed mother held down two jobs. It explained a lot about him – his timelessly endearing charm, the chivalrous way he comported himself, and his love for classic films.

"…My grandmother loved Gone with the Wind the most. My granddad would watch old Jimmy Stewart Westerns pretty exclusively, though," he finishes remarking with a faraway smile on his features.

You can't help smirk as you lilt, "A real Bandolero! fan, then?"

Marcus snickers after draining the last of his wine. "Yep. Although The Man from Laramie was his favorite."

You both enjoy the rest of the movie once it resumes, but at some point, all the food and wine catch up with you both, and the movie on the TV becomes the perfect ambient-inducer for slumber to occur.

You don't know how, but when you eventually wake early the next morning, you find that in your sleep, you'd stretched out length-wise on the couch – and had slept snuggled between Marcus and the back cushions, with your head resting on his shoulder and your arm around his waist, while his was folded around your back.

Besides the sobering shock of it, your senses are flooded with the appealing whiff of his faint cologne, and the intermingled scents of his soap and natural musk. His body against yours felt good, and the alluring urge to nuzzle into his neck has arousal tingling down into your core before you're able to come to your senses and jolt up.

Marcus wakes groggily at the shift of the cushions as you amble up and shimmy away from the spot next to him you'd just vacated. The TV is still on, playing Father of the Bride, and it isn't until you're tossing the throw away from your legs that he snaps fully into awareness.

"Mmph, shit—sorry. I didn't mean to doze off like that," is his gruff mutter, baritone rough from disuse as he yawns and stretches.

You're too busy trying to hide your mortification as you bolt up from the sofa and round it to grab your purse before heading for your boots. "Um, yeah. It's morning, so, I'm just gonna let myself out—"

He sits up and frowns as he scratches at his mussed hair, realizing indeed, it's before dawn.

"Hey, you don't have to rush out. I can give you a ride to your place – I'll make us coffee, and whip up some breakfast before we go," Marcus offers warmly, not realizing you've already got one boot pulled on and are fussing to get the other on.

"No, that's alright. I'll catch a cab," you're telling him as you stand, looping your purse over your shoulder, crossbody, before self-consciously brushing your hands over your hair and finally sparing a glance his way as you remark, "I don't wanna impose any more than I have already—"

Marcus springs up from the couch, internally swearing at the morning wood he's sporting, while already assuring, "C'mon, you're not imposing at all—"

Bemused, he's just turned after covertly adjusting himself in his jeans to see you already at the door.

"See you at work, Pike."

You're out the door before he's even able to articulate a response.

If you were both honest, there had been a not-so-subtle buildup occurring between you.

However, after cookoff-gate, things had swerved into a direction neither of you seemed equipped to maneuver.

Your guard was all the way back up with him. So much so, you weren't even verbally sparring with him at the office anymore.

Marcus handled it the only way he knew how: Focus exclusively on work, and leave no question that his intentions were recalibrated back onto what he assumed you expected. That you wanted nothing but a professional rapport, and to rebuff anything else.

Even after that theory was tested with the club incident soon after the distance between you began – a torrid event that had left him pining for something more, Marcus was left more confused than before when you instead became even more distant.

You were on the precipice of uncertainty for the first time since you'd been ensnared into the task force.

So much so, that you were planning on making the antiquities sting your last.

None of this was because you didn't feel anything for Marcus. Quite the contrary. Your attraction was magnetic, and you hadn't realized how much you'd longed to be safe with someone the way you did when you were with him. It was too dangerous to give into it. That's why you intended to keep your walls up and to suppress all your feelings on the matter in order to concentrate of your impending exit strategy.

But then, things are never that simple.

Marcus is livid when he gets off the elevator and storms at a stalking pace down the corridor several days before the undercover operation is targeted to begin. Everyone takes notice, but the uncharacteristic glower on his rugged features is so intimidating that no one dares check in with him.

He makes it to your office, abruptly enters, and slams the door after himself before stomping to where you're sat behind your desk.

"What the hell possessed you to go around my back and contract an informant without my authorization?!" he shouts forcefully as he looms over you while you stare up at him and frown.

"Nothing. He's been part of the plan since the beginning—"

"Part of the plan that you haven't disclosed to me. And had you told me about the fence you recruited from within the group we're trying to take down, I would've never allowed it!" is Marcus's furious harangue, hands going to his hips to prevent him from gesticulating angrily at you. "You went to the U.S. Attorney and secured an immunity deal with him without my consent—!"

"There was no feasible way to infiltrate this organization without someone on the inside willing to vouch for me, and who can also co-sign that you're The Jackal. He's one of the very few people in the world who has actually seen him and knows his demeanor. And, he's got the motivation to not screw us. He wants out of the life, and knows we're his only chance of making it out alive," you rationalize as you stand and round your desk to point at your transparent board. "See? He's given me key coordinates, and after this morning's intel session with him, I have even more crucial info—"

Marcus grabs your elbow to steer you around to face him and his unwavering scowl. "You are not an agent, Savedra. All you are is a resource – an asset to this team, with no standing to orchestrate these kinds of things behind my back—"

"Listen, Pike. I'm the last person you have to remind of how short my leash is here. I've never forgotten that, least of all that you're the one holding the other end of it. Your task force is a joke, mostly. If you're going to be meek about how you go after these syndicates, then you might as well close shop and go back to Dallas," you snap and shrug your arm out of his hold, staring at him fiercely as you add, "Now, be mad all you want, but if you pull the plug on things now, you're going to derail weeks of work, and set your team back months. I, for one, would like to make all the effort count."

Clenching his jaw, Marcus exhales through his nose and pins you in his dark glare as he grounds out, "Fine. But this is the last time you pull a stunt like this. Understood?"

You nod curtly before turning away to recalibrate your poise as you sigh out.

"Now that we got that out of the way, I set up a session with him so he can detail to you what you need to channel when you're undercover."

Said session does nothing to assuage Marcus, but at least he gets the needed context of what this middle-aged criminal knows, and is briefed on key intel no one has on The Jackal.

The initial meet a few days later with the traffickers goes according to plan.

You convince them of your expertise as a collector of privately-acquired relics, and they buy your explanation of needing the help of a network in order to transport the large, archaic limestone Greek statue of the sphinx you sought to move overseas to a wealthy buyer. The fence, Elio, steers the crew to The Jackal being the appropriate track, and as planned, arranges the fake meet between the traffickers, you, and The Jackal himself.

Marcus didn't need a lot of motivation to channel a reticent, stony man quick to intimidation. His intense demeanor was exactly what everyone in the room expected, thanks to The Jackal's reputation preceding him. However, Elio had divulged one thing that no one outside of this kind of black-market syndicate knew about the head of the Mediterranean art theft ring.

"—Before I give my blessing to this transaction, I'd like to get to know who I'm doing business with."

You'd turned to Marcus and expertly portrayed cautious intrigue. It really wasn't hard, with how dapper he looked in his dark black suit, sans a tie and with a matching open-collared dress shirt underneath the tailored blazer. His hair was swept back, curling in shaggy whisps at his nape and behind his ears. And while his beard wasn't as thick and full as Elio had mentioned The Jackal's being, you thought he looked roguishly handsome, nevertheless.

"And I would be obliged to do whatever necessary to make our business nothing but successful, Sciacallo," you tell him, using the Italian moniker The Jackal favors when doing business.

As planned, Marcus leads you out of the impromptu gathering at the hangout the traffickers use and escorts you to the private quarters upstairs. However, unlike you'd planned up until five minutes before you'd entered the hideout for the meet, you and Marcus weren't dropping your covers once the door to the room closes.

You can't. Not with Elio mentioning that they had installed hidden cameras throughout the hideout, and he couldn't guarantee that the security goons monitoring the feeds wouldn't leave any camera or audio device on in the private quarters.

Marcus had been fuming when you'd faked leaning in to flirt with The Jackal, and whispered about the cameras in the room upstairs. His eyes had hardened and his jaw clenched, but he feigned like he was annoyed by someone talking too loudly close to you both.

So, having not planned this part, you were anxious and exhilarated.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Marcus gave the room a cursory stare before turning to you and murmuring, "See? Much better. We can hear ourselves talk. Perhaps you'll repeat what you said downstairs?"

You feel butterflies in your stomach as you approach him sultrily and caress your hand over the lapel of his suit. "I said, I'm eager to partner with you, handsome," you purr, eyes inviting as you glance up at him through the fringe of your lashes.

"That's what I thought," Marcus husks before trailing his hand up your arm to graze along your shoulder before snaking across your collarbone and up to clasp the slender column of your neck and wrap his thick, dexterous fingers around your throat lightly. He can feel your pulse racing, so he backs you up slowly into the nearest wall before cradling your jaw with a possessive caress of his hand as he rumbles, "I like eager and beautiful women."

Your body reacts, arching into him as you tilt your head back and stare alluringly at him before he leans down and kisses you with voracious zeal.

You dimly wonder if it's truly improvised undercover work when you've wanted Marcus to kiss you like this for weeks – maybe even longer, if you were being honest with yourself.

Marcus is wound tight in his chest with worry, but the way you loop your arms around him and hum into his mouth when he deepens the kiss gives him some relief that maybe this isn't a complete clusterfuck. The thought that they could be watching you both, though, kept him on edge – focused on not getting carried away in how phenomenal having you like this was and instead hyperaware of staying on task.

Mercifully, before things got carried away, a clueless underling walked in on you both, which gave Marcus the perfect opportunity to showcase the infamous fury The Jackal was known for.

He was off of you and slamming the guy up against the doorframe in an instant, yoking him up and contumely cursing him out before the dude could stammer an apology and the girl he had brought up with him ran off to avoid any wrath herself.

Fracas smoothened over by the underling's leader, who profusely apologized to The Jackal, things went back on track as planned, and you were able to leave the hideout with a guarantee that your antiquity could be smuggled overseas and sold to your contact.

The final meeting for the sting operation, however, did not go as planned.

You'd made it all the way up to the handoff at the warehouse when the boss of the trafficking syndicate suddenly tried to change the terms of the deal, by trying to make you reveal the name of your buyer overseas. There you were, surrounded by underlings and enforcers who were packing the crate housing the artifact with the contraband supplied by The Jackal, when you had to smoothly refuse.

The burly man had approached you swiftly, making a veiled threat you'd already composed a rebuttal for when all hell broke loose. You don't even know how it happened, but one second the tactical team rushed in and the guy pulled out a knife while he was lunging to grab your elbow. In a blink, though, you're yanked away and the knife swung wide and slashed at one of the stacked bundles near the crate.

You'd given up on trying to regain your bearings with how your eyes and sinuses were burning, vision watering and stinging as you blindly let Marcus haul you out of the sting's warehouse – having barreled into danger to extract you. The unidentified powder was part of the narcotic contraband to be stored in the crate with the artifact, but the contents of the torn bundle went airborne and caked over you before he was able to whisk you out of the fray and to a safehouse.

Even in the hyper rushed aftermath, his ears were still ringing.

Marcus had yanked you away from being attacked or taken hostage, but not before the powder exploded out like a confetti-cannon over you while shots started ringing out in the warehouse.

The pink haze had the consistency of dry cement as it fluttered down, and even he wasn't spared the hit of it flitting against the side of his face in the chaos.

The fallout was technically his fault, but the main target of the sting had threatened you, so he'd rushed in with backup. The ensuing pandemonium of the raid and the frenzy of pink powder haze and bullets flying had made it a frenzied operation for him.

He'd acted first and thought second, which was not the norm for him. But the threat? It had propelled him to determinedly bust in to extract you, cover being blown be damned. As far as he was concerned, it was unimportant now and of little consequence to him.

Well, now, while he hissed and scrubbed the chemical residue from his face as he locked the door and engaged the security system, he did let his anger swirl up in him all over again.

He hears you coughing in the bathroom, and no matter how exasperating you've been, something fierce coils in his chest at the distressing sound of you dry heaving and gasping to catch your breath.

Tucking his service weapon into the holster underneath his leather jacket, Marcus finds his way down into the narrow hall where the bathroom is, squinting the entire way as he absently wipes at his heated features in attempt to get the strange powder removed.

He knocks on the door before grousing lowly, "Hey, you ok?"

You croak some sort of scoff before running the faucet again and trying to get the cakey residue out from your nostrils so you can breathe without wheezing. Once you've splashed water over your face, you mumble, "I think so."

The door cracks ajar before Marcus pokes his head in to survey you. "What?"

"I said, I think so," you snap, cupping your hands under the faucet and splashing water messily over your flushed features.

"Damn…here, come sit and let me have a look at you," you hear him grumble as his footsteps approach you from behind.

He cups your elbow and firmly tugs you away from the sink to steer you towards the bathtub's ledge, yanking a hand towel from a nearby rack as he sits you down so he can try helping you scrub the remnants of the bubblegum-pink powder off your face.

You sneeze, which causes an itchy sensation in the back of your throat that sends you into another coughing fit, so Marcus hurriedly gets the glass you'd left on the sink vanity and refills it with cool water before placing it in your hands and helping guide it to your lips.

"Small sips. Take it slow," he murmurs in a firm baritone, ignoring his own discomfort to tend to you.

"Mmph," you grunt before taking a breath and shaking your head. "What the hell—what is this stuff?!"

"I'm not sure—"

"What if it's some kind of toxin?!" you exclaim as you try to stare at him without having your eyes water from the menthol-like burn.

"It's not. Remember the narcotic contraband was loaned to us by DEA. There's no way they'd let something toxic be used for a sting—"

"Then why is this stuff making me feel like I just got hit with powdered speed?!" you gripe as you snatch the towel from his grip so you can scrub your face more.

Marcus feels feverish and antsy himself, so he goes to the sink and runs the tap to splash his own features with cool water. "Probably just an irritant from the pink dye—"

"Ugh, I'm covered in this crap," you grouse as you begin to scrub the damp cloth down your neck and decolletage, ignoring how your slinky black dress is hanging in a racy, askew manner at your bustline from the strap drooping off of your shoulder.

Marcus catches himself staring at your cleavage before he hoarsely clears his throat and turns away. "I'll go see if there's anything you can change into," he croaks as he rushes out of the bathroom, heading for the spartan bedroom at the end of the hall and into the armoire across from the bed.

It's then while he's muttering crossly to himself, that he realizes his phone is vibrating in his jacket's pocket. Swearing, he retrieves it and answers, "Pike."

"Jeez, man! I've been calling yah nonstop," the DEA partner, Agent Jarvis, who helped coordinate things with the narcotic contraband for the sting, is barking in his ear. "Where are you?!"

"At a safehouse—"

"I was told your asset got a face-full of one of the powder bricks when shit went south—"

"She did. I caught some too, in the melee of trying to extract her—"

"…Shit. Ok, so, we have a problem," Agent Jarvis warns, before seriously instructing, "Listen to me very carefully, Pike. You and your asset were exposed to Pheral. If you haven't already, you're going to start feeling some effects from it—"

"Whoa, what the hell are you talking about? Pheral? What even is that?"

"So, it's a designer drug out of Amsterdam that's becoming big in the affluent, socialite drug scenes at clubs all around the world. It's a synthetic chemical composite of human pheromones, but it's potent and has the same effects as doing ketamine and acid. However, it's a disinhibitor; it hits the system and can cause coronary distress—"

Marcus is listening in horror while the man instructs him to remove any tainted clothes and rinse the residue off as soon as possible, all as he feels the effects of the drug start to palpitate in his chest. His pulse had been racing and he'd chalked it up to the adrenaline of extracting you from the botched sting, but now he's realizing that it's an elevated sensation pounding in his veins and zinging south, making him feverishly aroused.

"—How do you stop it?! Is there an antidote?"

"Lab hasn't been able to come up with one yet. It's absorbed through mucus membranes, so it hits the bloodstream quick. Get as much fluids in her to clear it out as quick as possible, but mostly, just keep her from hurting herself, Pike. She's going to be jonesing for physical gratification like a hellcat in heat. It's supposed to be the ultimate aphrodisiac—a heightened state of euphoria, but only when done in dab-like doses. If she was doused bad…I don't know. Users get so desperate from the effects when they overdo it that they lose sense of their pain thresholds—"

"I gotta go."

Marcus ends the call quickly before discarding the phone and then pulls the holster with his gun from the back of his waistband to be plopped onto the dresser in order to sprint down the hall to check on you.

He hears you whimpering just before he burst through the bathroom door.

"M-Marcus."

You're in a state of amplified arousal that is bordering on hyperventilating distress. Sweat has broken out along your hairline, and your bare skin is dewy from the overheated racing of your pulse. The ache of desire has you squirming in discomfort, feeling hypersensitive and raw-nerved as you stare wildly up at him from where you're curled into the corner of the floor by the tub.

He rushes to your side to cradle you against him as he hurriedly turns the shower's faucet handle to start spraying cold water into the tub. He says your name firmly before explaining in a hoarse rasp, "—I gotta get this stuff off of you and you're gonna have to drink more water for me."

You sob and grip onto his shoulders, trembling as you whine, "What's happening?!"

"It's the drug," is all he says as he hastily sheds his leather jacket in order to ease his own overheated discomfort, grabbing the glass to fill it to the brim with water before chugging half of it and refilling it in order to kneel down and insistently press it to your lips so you can guzzle as much as you can. When you drink your fill and push the glass away, he blindly sets it down on the back of the commode's tank lid before he rasps, "Now, c'mon, dandelion. I gotta get you under the cold water—"

"Come in with me?" you plead as he lifts you to stand on shaky knees. "You got it all over you too, Marcus," is your watery whisper as you caress his face and swipe at the pink smudge on his cheekbone.

The contact to his skin makes Marcus shudder, and against his control, arousal throbs riotously into his apex and pulses in his loins.

Rock-hard now, he huffs raggedly as he insists, "I gotta take care of you first, so let me get this off of you."

You're feeling like liquid fire is thrumming under your skin and your pulse is at your center, blood pumping from the silken clutch in your pelvis rather than from the organ in your chest. The usual tingle of arousal is instead a rapacious, searing heat at your core – making you quiver and drip with desire while Marcus rushes to gently remove the slinky black cocktail dress off your torso.

Your blush feels like you've been sitting under the Saharan sun, and the brush of Marcus's touch over your ignited body has you shivering and biting back a whimper as he strips you to your black cotton and lace thong before lifting you into the tub and under the cold spray of the showerhead.

The yelp you let out when the water beats down on your bare skin has him scrambling to grab you as you writhe to be in his embrace. "N-No, the water will help—"

"It feels like needles!" you cry and cling to him, quivering as you grip on to him desperately and chatter, "You feel good," before nuzzling his neck and giving yourself over to the urge that's become an incandescent force inside your body.

Your bare breasts press against him, nipples studded and tingling for gratification while your pussy clenches at how good his skin tastes when you suckle a kiss into his neck.

Marcus can't keep a lid on his own baser urges any longer at your distress melting away the more you touch him.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he gravels out and kisses your burning cheek, and at your breathy mewl, he kisses your mouth. The water on your body soaks into his shirt and jeans as you clamber to wrap your legs and arms around him with intoxicated urgency.

When he breaks the kiss to catch his breath, he has to soothe you when you whine for him.

"Can't—I can't just…don't want to lose control—"

You kiss him possessively and slink down his front while simultaneously yanking on his clothes he now desperately tries to peel off of himself.

Feeling his feverish skin press against yours after he shoves his clothes down and rushes to sit on the edge of the tub to kick the remainder off while simultaneously yanking you down – settling you to straddle onto his lap, you moan at having the length of his cock nestle against your damp cloth-covered crotch. You can feel your folds drench with arousal, making you ache to be split by him to the hilt – to be filled by his throbbing erection.

"No antidote—can't lose control. D-Don't want to hurt you," is all he's managed to string together as he gropes you against him and grazes wet, open-mouth kisses along your neck and jaw. Your clit throbs when he grips your waist and starts edging you onto his cock.

"You won't! W-Won't hurt me," you groan and encircle your arms around his shoulders before whining, "Please, please, Marcus—"

He shakes his senses loose of the horny haze to press, "Listen to me, wildcat. We need to wash this shit off. It'll be quick—we'll do it quick, and once it's off I'll do whatever you need—"

"Need you. Want you," you exhale in a frenzied state, staring with blown-out pupils at him as you start to pleasure yourself by rubbing your aching pussy along his cock. The friction of your soaked panties along his velvety, pulsing erection has Marcus buzzing from the electric pleasure sparking across his nerve endings.

"You'll have me, dandelion. C'mon, be a g-good girl for me," he husks and stands, holding you in his arms as you cling to him and whimper.

Once sure you won't bolt, he gets in under the shower spray with you.

The water doesn't feel as horrid against your skin as it had the first time, so you snap out of the hedonistic daze once Marcus has stood under the frigid spray for a few minutes and clumsily scrubbed the pink residue from your shoulders and back for you.

You hurriedly unlatch yourself from him to stand on quaking legs in order to wash the pink powder remnants quickly off your skin and hair, then help Marcus get it off his beard and neck while he lets the water spray directly into his face in hopes to get the maddening sensation to cease.

Now that the water going down the drain is no longer tinged in pink, you and Marcus maneuver so the spray can run down his back while you sway on your feet and try to regain your wits. Instead, you both end up standing in the cold cascade, staring into each other's flushed features.

It feels like a fever dream – seeing his naked body like this, and your pussy clenches around nothing when you caress your palms down his abs and watch his ruddy, pulsing erection twitch at your sensual touch.

He murmurs your name when you lean forward to kiss along his heated skin after nuzzling your face into his pecs, chasing his delectable scent.

You're dialed into this primordial attraction, so you kneel at his feet from how your mouth waters to have his cock stuffed in it – to have the weight of it on your tongue before he fills your pussy with it the way you're convinced he needs to in order to stop this feeling from consuming you like a leaf flung onto a blazing fire.

Marcus shakily cups your jaw as he rasps your name again, and at the skittish unease of his tone, you stare up at him and snake your other hand between your thighs to touch yourself while you mewl for permission to do what you hunger for. The sight of you has him trembling, and his thumb grazes over the corner of your mouth, attempting to tow you back up to him, but then you lick it and make a needy sound that sends a jolt of insatiable arousal to his cock.

"T-This'll make you feel better?" Is his hoarse whisper, cold cascading water raining onto his back completely forgotten.

"Yes, hot stuff. I want you in my mouth—"

He groans, muscles flexing in anticipation. "Wanna give you what you need, baby—"

You gratefully hum and finally put him in your mouth, savoring his salty pre-cum and the velvety smooth thick of him you suck lustfully on.

His hand buries in the back of your wet hair, a raspy moan tumbling from his lips as he grapples to stay balanced with the other planting against the tiled wall.

You're enthralled by his reaction, sucking him off while gripping the base of his cock and pumping him in your fist every time you let his thick cock slip from the warm purse of your mouth so you can catch your breath. All while you rut against the palm heel of your other hand to try and ease the ache of arousal pulsing beseechingly for gratification.

It's when you grind too hard and whimper like it hurts that finally snaps Marcus to focus on you and not the exquisite pleasure that you're giving him.

Your senses sway as Marcus manhandles you off your knees and picks you up to be carried out of the cold shower.

Latching your arms and legs around him with a yelp, you wail, "M-Marcus, wha—?"

"No hurting yourself," he grumbles heatedly as he hurriedly stalks as best as he can, in the state he's in, to the bedroom with you. "M'gonna make you feel good so you don't hurt yourself by accident—"

You hiccup, "Hurt?! What's h-happening to us, Marcus?"

He makes it into the room and puts you on the bed. You're both still drenched from the shower, and he eyes you intensely as he peels your soaked panties off of you whilst trying to soberly explain, "The pink powder? It's a designer drug. The way you're feeling—that we're both f-feeling is because of it. You got dosed with way too much of it—"

You rear up onto your splayed hands and gape at him once he's tossed your drenched thong aside. "C-Can't they give us something to counteract it—?" you begin, but he shakes his head vigorously and sends water droplets to halo about before a shudder makes him wring his hands across his overly-heated features.

He's still rock-hard, and completely naked in front of you now, and the insatiable force in you is suddenly dismissing your panic to instead fixate on him.

"Marcus?"

"Hmmph?"

"Are we going to die?"

"N-No! Jeez—no, of course not," he begins to assure as he drops his hands from his face and rushes to convince you, but ends up avidly staring as you provocatively spread your legs to show him how needy you are for him, keeping your gaze fixed on his blown-out pupils. He watches you sit up and beckon for him to come to you while you shimmy backwards onto the bed.

"Ok then. Take your socks off and get over here, now."

Marcus looks down and realizes that indeed, he still has his socks on. They're sopping wet from the shower, and explain why he had such a difficult time getting traction over the tile and floorboards as he carried you from the bathroom to the bed.

Yanking them off with as much dignity as he can muster, with how worked up and ravenous he is, Marcus tosses them and clambers onto the bed after you. You admire the way his broad, muscularly toned physique looks under the bedroom's track lighting, thrill tangling excitedly in your core at how thick and hard his ramrod cock is as it bobs from his prowling towards you.

Once he's in reach, you loop your arms around his shoulders and pull him down for a rapacious kiss, wanting to have his weight on top of you finally.

His hands are warm and assertive as he pulls you into him while his tongue plunders your mouth, and yours encouragingly grope down to grab his ass when you mewl and roll your hips into his.

He breaks the kiss suddenly, as if compelled to keep his wits about him while he stammers, "W-We don't have to do this. I-I can just—"

You roll your positions so that he's on his back with you straddling him now.

"You said I could have you. I want you, Marcus," you husk silkily as you brace your palms over his broad chest and undulated your hips to grind yourself against his ramrod cock. He groans and grips your thighs, so you lean down to kiss him before you purr against his panting lips, "Now let me have you, handsome."

Marcus feels like you've hit the payload that is his stockpiled arousal he's been trying to keep buried deep in his gut, unleashing a feral desire he's never allowed himself to experience.

You gasp in surprise when he sits up and lifts you by your waist so he can nudge his cock between your soaked folds in order to notch the smooth tip at your dimpled entrance before plunging you onto him to the hilt.

The moan that falls from your lips comes out almost like an overawed wail at how amazing he feels inside you, making you arch into him and cling to his shoulders as he starts fucking up into you with bruising, ruinously precise thrusts that have him stroking nerve-melting pleasure to flare inside you.

"Oh my god!" you cry out when Marcus starts using one hand clutching the small of your back to slam you over and over onto his cock while the other squeezes one breast before pinching your nipple while he suckles the other into his mouth.

He barely registers the sting of your nails pinching into his upper back when you whimper his name after a particularly nippy suckle onto your pebbled flesh, and he doesn't realize how overcome you are with pleasure until you start begging in a frantic tone he's never heard you use.

"Marcus, I—I can't—oh Marcus! Please—"

His hand abandons your breast to instead grip the back your neck and anchor you to him as he nuzzles your cheek and soothingly coos, "Tell me, gorgeous girl."

You feel overwhelmed. The heat of it singed across your face. It has you sobbing against his jaw, "I want more – w-want you to use me. Please, Marcus. I need you—"

There's something primordial that you're both dialed into, and at your words, Marcus just knows what he needs to give you.

Pivoting up on the bed with you, he tosses you onto the mattress before manhandling you onto your hands and knees so he can possessively yank your hips to be positioned just right for him to spear his cock back into your molten pussy from behind.

"Fuck," Marcus grits between clenched jaw at how your walls clamp greedily onto his shaft while you let out a sound akin to a hearty cry of triumph. When he crowds you and starts to pound into you insatiably, he moans at how you rock back to meet his thrusts.

You feel like an animal in heat. Like all there is right now is his cock inside you and his body enveloping around you and his taste and his scent and his sweat and it all has your head spinning in the best way while you interlace your fingers in his and crane your neck out so his face can fit perfectly in the crook as he suckles on your dewy skin.

For Marcus, it's like something was turned on inside him – an undiscovered feeling of belonging and power and accomplishment was cresting free, and the more he reveled in you, the hotter and brighter it was burning in his chest.

It was so liberating that he let his feelings escape the hive-like place in his heart where he kept them trapped away.

"You make me feel things I've never felt before," is growled into your jaw, and you clench around his cock like a silken vise while you moan and arch into him.

"Marcus—"

"M'gonna protect you. Was scared—scared I'd lose you—"

You whimper, "Oh, Marcus—"

"Tell me what you want, wildcat," he gravels in a rough timbre that rakes exhilarated desire through you.

"Fuck me, Marcus. Want you to fuck me until this feeling stops—until I'm yours. M-Make me yours—"

All inhibitions are gone from him now.

Marcus fucks you with abandon, railing you with such ferocity that you're turned into an alight, moaning mess as bliss tears you asunder with a deliriously scorching orgasm that has you bowing down into the bed while Marcus pounds through your fluttering cunt flooding his apex with your climax.

His hands grip your hips as he pivots back onto his haunches and prolongs your ecstasy, eyes glazed with his lust for you and watching you continue to mindlessly rock back to meet his thrusts.

He's throbbing for release, but this heightened state of arousal caused by the drug has an insatiable, prolonging effect – extending his libido's hold-out like a refractory period.

When you dissolve into the bed face-first with an exhausted mewl, Marcus pulls out and marvels at how much slick coats his cock and drips down his apex.

The scent of sex permeates the once sanitized-smelling air that came from the filtered vent system. The room feels humid from how elevated your body temperatures are, blood pressure feeling like it's sky-high as your pulses race. He knows that's dangerous, and in the syrupy miasma of his sex-dazed mind, he remembers the instructions he was given.

You are a blitzed-out heap of tingling nerve endings. So much so, you barely absorb when Marcus rumbles, "Gonna get more water. Be right back, dandelion," as he rolls you onto your back and pets the damp hair sticking to your warm skin away from your face.

"Stay," you mumble and take his hand, kissing the inside of his palm.

He grunts a reassuring sound before kissing your forehead and promising, "I'll be right back."

You vacantly nod and roll on your side with a tired sigh.

Marcus strings together enough control of his fine motor skills to rush out of the bedroom and go for the closest source of water. He enters the bathroom and finds the shower spray still on – having not realized he'd completely forgotten to turn it off. After doing so now, he grabs the discarded glass and refills it in the sink. He guzzles several glass-fills down, feeling more clearheaded the more he rehydrates. His body is running hot, tremors of arousal like muscle spasms in his apex that leave a tingling throb in his loins and have him idly palming and stroking his erection – gauging the muted sensation compared to normal – as he chugs the last of the water before he tops the glass off to take back to you.

When he enters the bedroom, he finds you still on the bed, but you're now restlessly trying to get yourself off – hand between your thighs and panting harshly as you grind against it.

He goes to your side and places the glass down on the night table before wrangling you into his arms.

"No, you'll hurt yourself doing that," he protests while you whine and squirm in his embrace. "I'll take care of you, baby. Just settle down enough to drink some water—"

"I don't want water. I want you," you complain heatedly, slinging your arms around his neck to anchor him down into bed with you.

He picks you up to maneuver you both on the disheveled covers, attempting to appease you before pressing, "I know. I want you too, wildcat. But you need to get fluids—"

"Marcus, you need to keep fucking me until you give me those," is your raunchy counter, smiling when he gapes at you before you start kissing along his cheek and suckle on his earlobe. He groans and ruts up against you, so you purr, "Please, I need you inside me. All of you—"

"Alright, then sit on my cock, naughty girl," he husks bawdily and clasps his hand to the back of your nape to tow you back so he can stare intensely into your dazzling eyes as you squirm in excitement. "You can use me – ride me as hard as you want. But first, you have to drink the water for me."

You look sinfully delicious as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth and arch your brows to obediently nod while already reaching between your bodies to guide his erection to be aligned with your plunging undulation over his lap.

Marcus groans hoarsely and guides you to remain still – flush over where you're both now joined – before hurriedly reaching for the glass and offering it to you.

Compliantly, you drink, and realize how parched you are, so you end up chugging the water until you gasp in relief and uncaringly glide the glass back onto the night table before burying your hand into the back of his damp hair and pull him into a hungry kiss.

Your tongue flicks and twirls against his as you start to fuck yourself onto his cock, mewling heatedly from the effort while Marcus fondles his hands possessively over the globes of your ass before squeezing them when he bucks up into you.

After you reach bliss riding him, shouting his name and staring at him in euphoric satisfaction, Marcus rolls you onto your back so he can dominate you into the bed, spinning you up into delirium all over again as he snaps his hips into a devastating angle that has him colliding dead-center with your nested pleasure clustered deep inside your fluttering sheath.

Time is lost to you both as you couple like animals during mating season.

He can't count how many times he makes you come, nor keep track of all the positions he takes you in, and you're so far flung in the throes of insatiable need that you don't realize until he's just got you off after fucking you with your legs propped up against his shoulders, that he hasn't orgasmed once.

While he slows his barreling thrusts into you once you've melted breathlessly under him, Marcus kisses along the crook of your neck and relishes how you quiver from the aftershocks of your climax. He's just about to shift back and pull out when you clench your floor muscles suddenly around him.

"Oh fuck, mmph," he moans gruffly before maneuvering your legs off of his shoulders and hooking the backs of your knees at his forearms so he can rear back and haul you with him as he says your name warningly and growls, "—You keep doing that and I'm going to lose control."

Your pussy aches, every muscle is sore and protesting, but still the insatiable heat persists, so you stare sultrily at him under heavy lids and coo, "I want you to lose control, you dope. Want you to fuck me until you come, and then keep fucking me until we both can't move or think anymore—"

He swears gruffly, but you feel his cock throb inside you, clearly betraying how enticed he is.

"It's not like I've been holding back. The drug takes the edge off and changes our pleasure and pain thresholds; affects sensation. I don't think I could come even if I tried," Marcus admits lowly as he wrings his hand over his heated features, clearly embarrassed.

"Hey, M."

"Hmm?"

"You're gorgeous when you're all flustered and naked and hard," is your silky murmur, smile cheeky when he pauses swiping the sweat off his brow to stare at you heatedly. Your smile sobers meekly as you admit in a mumble, "And, you're so sexy. Even when you're being maddening and all I want to do is wring your neck and run away…"

Marcus feels that incandescent pressure in the back of his sternum – the one that makes him feel like his ribs ache but feel full at the same time.

Overawed, he sits back on his heels and pulls out of you with a hiss before leaning over you to kiss a worshipful path up from your navel to your jaw. After he presses a kiss to your cheek, he nuzzles your ear before murmuring, "Don't run away. Stay with me, dandelion."

You feel stripped raw and soothed over at the same time by his words, and before you can stop it, your heart wrings in your chest as you confess, "I want to. I've wanted to for a while, b-but I can't help feel this way—"

He props up to gaze wondrously at you. "Feel what way?"

"Ugh!" you groan and cover your eyes with your forearm, too jelly-jointed to do much else to keep your frazzled guard up. "You know, M—"

"No, I don't," he firmly huffs and stretches out onto his side next to you in order to pull your forearm away so you have to look at him.

"…It doesn't matter. This is a mistake – a fluke accident and the weirdo horny mating drug doesn't change that reality—"

"What reality?"

"This!" you shout and weakly gesture between you and him. "Whatever this has become is a mess. I am a fool to feel this way, knowing how reckless you think I've been already and how badly you want to be done with the hassle—"

"…You're serious," Marcus deadpans, derailing your ramble, and when you focus on him, he scoffs and shakes his head, as if astounded, before rumbling in a honeyed baritone, "You don't even know, do you?"

You frown, confused.

Marcus sidles close, dark brown eyes softening as he exhales sardonically before caressing your chin between forefinger and thumb so you can't turn your face as he looks at you purposefully.

"I feel the same way," he tells you, smirking softly before professing, "I love you."

You can feel his body heat and see the unwavering truth in his handsome face, and your flustered mind is processing that this is real while you're carnally supercharged already for him.

"That's the drug talking—"

"No, it's not—"

"Marcus—"

"If you don't feel that way, it's fine—"

"That…that's not it. I'm saying we can't trust what we're feeling right now. We're literally in heat—"

"I fell in love with you before getting hit in the face with pink dust, wildcat—"

"Attraction is not the same as love, Marcus—"

"Oh trust me, I've learned that the hard way plenty already," is his deriding huff as he tucks his chin and smiles self-deprecatingly.

You pout and cup his bearded cheek, caressing it lovingly before mumbling, "You're too good for me. Literally – I don't think I can take how sweet and considerate and…and wonderful you are—"

He says your name huffily before caressing his touch along your side reassuringly, crooning, "—Don't be like that. A sexy little smartass like you can't be contrary all the time."

"Oh yeah? You're seriously not dying to unload me, after everything?" you mutter as you brush your lips along his bearded jaw and card your fingers through his hair. "It isn't just the libido drug making you talk crazy?"

"All the drug is making me do is stay rock-hard and be bold about saying how I feel," he says honestly, and smirks when you hum interestedly before palming his thick erection. When you trace your touch along the underside of the shaft, he husks throatily, "You've clearly grown on me, dandelion. P-Pressed all my buttons, made sport out of challenging me daily, and I hated it all…until I started liking it."

You feel your heart summersault in excitement at that, so you nuzzle his cheek after you carve your hips around his to nestle his throbbing hard-on against your warm, wet pussy, lightly grinding on it as you whisper, "Liking is not the same as lov—"

"Tell me how you feel."

You pause and stare into his eyes. Pressed this close together, you can see how brown his irises are, and how free of judgment they are twinkling soulfully at you.

"I—I care…care more than I ever have, and I feel things that I haven't felt—that I haven't felt in a long time. I just…" you trail off, huffing at yourself before admitting, "The way I feel about you is something I don't know how to manage."

Marcus keeps your hips rocking against him, all the while you flustered to the truth.

"That kind of sounds like the same thing I'm telling you I feel about you, stubborn girl," is his amused rumble. You can't help snort and bashfully curl into him. He doesn't let you hide your face in his neck, though. "C'mon, look at me."

You do, shivering when he cups your jaw and pins you into place with his passionate stare.

"I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper, feeling like you've just jumped off a cliff with no idea what's beyond the precipice.

But the look Marcus gives you – the way his handsome features brighten with delighted surprise, it makes something twinge warm and hopeful in your chest. You kiss him before girlishly scoffing, then stammering, "W-What're we going to do?"

"Right now?" Marcus sits up and caresses his hand down your body to touch where your warmth is flush up against his twitching member. You mewl and melt a little when he teasingly grazes his lips over yours before purring, "Right now, we're gonna keep fucking like rabbits until this damn drug is out of our systems."

You giggle enticingly before timidly snickering, "I'm exhausted, cowboy. I don't think I can manage doing anything but this right now," as you undulate against him for emphasis.

Smirking, Marcus hums, affectionately squeezing your thigh as he croons, "I got an idea."

He assertively rolls you over onto your opposite side and spoons up behind you while possessively fondling your curves. You mewl at the feeling of his warm body up against you from behind while his cock starts rutting against your pulsing womanhood.

Marcus lets you acclimate and simply revel in the feeling of being in his covetous embrace while you rock back against him lustfully. When he starts pressing his throbbing arousal into your pussy from behind, you moan an ecstatic little sound before whimpering, "More, Marcus. Please."

With a deft thrust, he gives you more, and more, as he cups your pussy and grinds his fingertips over the hood of your clit while grazing his teeth down your neck to claim it with a rough kiss at the base.

You reach your arm backwards to sling around his neck so you can keep his mouth on you while you both set a ravenous rhythm, bucking backwards onto him while he fucks forward into you.

The hand that cradles the curve of your waist tightens when you cry his name and desperately loop both your arms backwards to hold onto him as you're lost to the euphoric ecstasy of reaching bliss like this.

Marcus aches when you sob a gratified cry, and he feels pride crackle in his chest when your hands grip the hair at the base of his nape so you have leverage to pivot in his grip in order to kiss him passionately.

His cock pulses inside you when you break the kiss to lick at his bottom lip before you susurrate, "I want you to fill me with your cum, Marcus."

Incredibly turned on by the prospect, Marcus bucks into you with a gruff groan before gravelling tensely, "Now that's the drug talking—"

"No, it isn't," you contradict and look at him with sultry heat blazing in your eyes as you purr, "What's a girl gotta do to get you off, Pikey boy."

You feel him strain enticingly against your fluttering walls at the pet name, which has you shivering in delight just as Marcus growls, "Keep telling me what you want. Please."

That has you divulging things. Some seductive things, like, 'Want you to be all mine, cowboy,' and some salacious, authoritative orders, like, 'Fuck me like you want me, Marcus. I want you. I'll let everyone know you're mine, but only if you make me yours.'

The more you tell him what you want, the more worked up into searing arousal Marcus gets as he buries his moans into the back of your neck whilst he fucks you faster and harder – hands clutching you to him as your pitch gets more alight from your own pleasure cresting incandescently through you.

He's feral with need by the time he's got you on your stomach with your ass up for him to plunder his cock deep into your fluttering cunt. You're blitzed out – lasciviously keyed into the wild throes of carnal elation of being ravished by him. Sweat and slick and the heat of your flesh pressed together is making both your senses flare with rapturous yearning – panting breaths wild as you both are finally at the precipice of savage release together.

At his thrusts picking up frenzied pace that has your warm flesh colliding rhythmically over your hearty sounds of pleasure, you press the button he didn't know he had in him.

"Please, m-make me yours, sweet boy—"

The exhilarating, searing pleasure that snaps loose from Marcus at your airy mewl has him barreling ferociously into you while moaning in guttural, incredulous bliss just as you cry out and orgasm with him.

He buries his cock deep and clings over you as he shudders through the bursts of his climax that fill your rippling sheath while you exhale a rapturous, sated sound and melt under him, toes curled and arms draped around his as they clutch you to him. You feel made whole as the warm bloom of his spend filling you diffuses through you, and Marcus feels like lightning struck him and the electric buzz still scintillates through his sinew.

Reduced to trembling, breathless heaps tangled against each other, you and Marcus lay on the sullied sheets for a while. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, and he can feel your pulse against the hand pressed between the bed and your womb. Neither of you can think beyond the content reassurance that the other is still there, warm and safe.

Feeling returned to yourself a disorienting amount of time later, you shift clumsily under him to squirm around and face him. Marcus heavily rolls off of you and grunts from the effort, but groggily rubs at his forehead to get the matted hair off his skin.

You tiredly rest your hand on his tacky chest, caressing it along his broad pectorals soothingly.

"…You ok?"

"…Yeah…can't move."

"Same…you feel ok?"

Marcus snorts exhaustedly before lulling his head to stare with hooded eyes at you. "M'feelin' like I fucked a marathon. You?"

You snicker girlishly. "I'm feeling like the marathon you fucked."

His laugh is raspy, features dewy and relaxed from sweat and all the over-exertion. Your hand reaches up to trace his bearded jaw, affectionately caressing along it until he hums and closes his eyes contently.

"Do you still feel in heat?"

"It's more of an aroused little tickle now versus the raging inferno of insatiable mania of before," you answer as you continue to caress his handsome features. "You?"

With a cleansing exhale, Marcus rumbles thickly, "About the same. I'm gonna need a few before I can go again, though—"

"Oh my god. I just said I'm not in nymphomaniac-mode anymore, you dope—"

You catch his sly smirk when he cracks an eye open to goadingly peer over at you. "You're cute when you're all worked up, gorgeous—"

With a scoff, you silkily mutter, "You're so lucky I'm too wrecked to slap you around, hot stuff—"

"C'mon, wildcat. Wouldn't you rather just have your way with me instead?"

You laugh, as if intrigued, before sidling up to him and giving him an alluring look, purring, "Is that what you want, sweet boy?"

Marcus feels arousal skitter down into his loins, zinging pulsing want into his cock before he can even try to not react to the titillating pet name that was much of his undoing.

"Yes. That's what I want, wildcat," he husks, too tired to be timid about it.

Appeased, you slink up against him and loop your arm around his midriff. "Good," you lilt around a yawn before murmuring, "That's what I want too, sweet boy. After we conk out for a bit."

His chuckle is like rich honey to your senses, and the warm tingle that tickles down into your womb when he nuzzles a kiss to the top of your mussed hair has you shivering with delight.

"Sounds like a plan, dandelion."

_____________________________

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[knowlessman]

"shigaraki has become too powerful. we need to bring in the one person we know who can disable him from a distance." "you can't mean -" "I do. Contact Mr Smiley." (bnha s6e7-10)

I forgot Aquaman or wever his name is was keeping Eraser Head's eyes wet so he could stare at Tomura 'XD that's just, a thing. that's how this show works. that's just a thing in this show

"he even has all might's power and toughness" blinks in Magic player I wonder what those might be. Maybe like 7/7? or he's a 1/1 that can pump?

"'little brother?' I didn't say that. I don't want to be like you, teacher, I want to surpass you. my will is my own" yeah, I don't think you read all the fine print back when Super-Satan took you in. gifted powers from vague-talking benefactors have a tendency to not care what you want in the end

"Vanishing Fist" is a cool name for an attack. wonder what they cribbed it from (turns out they didn't, it sounded like something that coulda been from something else tho imo)

(midnight got got by mr compress and is telling momo to use a forbidden technique or something to stop bigfoot) hmmm. so midnight had yaoyorozu analyze her sedative stuff so she can make it? yaoyorozu's quirk may be a strict upgrade over some of the pros', then.

ngl, mt lady hasn't seemed to be slowing bigfoot down worth a damn so far. dint even try to get him off his feet, he was just pushing her ahead of him like a plow for the longest time

figures, acid girl remembered bigfoot from her origin story or something and it made her fumble the shot. or he just reminded her of it? not sure, I don't remember the details that well (could swear her origin story was literally about a "monster" looking guy just asking for directions but idk). anyway, kirishima to the rescue? like they do have that shared backstory bit kinda thing so like sure

…what the.

-- fucker just. …fuck is that called? gurning? yeah. mfer just won the universe gurning championship of all time out of nowhere. swallered his nose. and ears. and eyes.

(tomura got eraser head with the dart) I don't guess our guy's wearing dartproof shinguards under them trousers or summat? -- BRO.

-- BRO. when is this that kind of show

(OP starts up again) okay, get this upbeat… get this lewis carroll denver jam band shit outta my face, a man just cut his fucking leg off with a knife with one swipe, my man has a vorpal fucking sword specifically for chopping entire legs off and you are playing stuff that would sound too tame and mild and childish for fucking burnout 3. "lazy generation" wouldn't come close to cutting it for this shit, get outta here -- hell, what was he gonna do if it hit him in the gut? chop his entire fucking self in half? -- sweet from atlantis: "the catalog says this little beauty can cut through a femur in twenty-eight seconds. I'm betting I could cut that time in half"

"the giant villain is expected to pass through eleventy different cities on his way to wherever he's going" see, now they got sad twangy strings in the background, it sounds like "In the Woods Somewhere." this is appropriate music for the context -- also the kids really did go through all that for fuckall. : | apparently he can Tarrasque in his sleep or something

robotnik: "that one mistake will bring about your demise!" fucking cyclops with his stupid dinky eye lasers. and writers not knowing what defibrillators are for.

oh yeah, this episode's named after bakugo for some reason. writer really does act like he's fucking enkidu when he's just extremely simply a bad person, it's never gonna make sense to me

flashbacks of bakugo "helping" deku figure out the black whip ig -- wait shit, so deku now also has an ability called Float that just lets him Peter Pan. …or just levitate ig, apparently he needs the other stuff to actually move -- all might: "you're helping him learn his powers to atone for your past actions. but he probably never thought about it" these two make no goddamn sense. bakugo is still every bit as abusive, not only towards deku, but towards every person he interacts with, as he was when we first met him. he's never shown any trace of regretting being that way. hell, he also just got done spelling out that he can't understand that deku values and cares about other people, that that quality of deku's is repulsive to him. -- bakugo is just… is just wired in such a way, whether by nature or nurture or both, that he needs help becoming anything but several kinds of danger to other people. and he'll never get it, and he'll somehow continue to be portrayed as some kind of, for lack of a better word, "quirky" hero.

cyclops's cape is completely gone now, dang. is tomura gonna get a new one after this fight, or what? that thing was his whole wardrobe, now he's just Ben Swolo with wrong hair and chapped lips.

welp, here comes Super-Satan, Tomura, here comes your benefactor to take over the reins. toldja. -- (bakugo took the hit) there'll be no living with him after this. not that there was any before

"I finally got you" ah ah ah. if I didn't know any better, I'd think the Avatar Spirits might have something to say about that. I know you gave this power away, all that time ago, but it might not want to go back. it's got several minds of its own now

the villain team's hacker guy has visual on the fight? while riding on bigfoot's back? how shit is the good guys' tech if this nobody with a laptop can see shit and nobody else knew anything until bigfoot started moving?

"I need to ask sakuraraka why hawks killed twice" yeah because she'll definitely have any damned idea what you're talking about (did he die? I mean they kinda played it like he did but they do that a lot and it very rarely seems to take) -- "you're not the only one who's mad about twice" …what IS spinner doing here? what is his whole deal? does he have one? why is his sword twenty swords taped together in a pile, and why haven't we seen him do anything since like season two? at least, I could swear he hasn't done anything, for having such a distinctive design he's such a nothingburger of a character

"what are you going to do to me?" 'XD fucking nothing, the best her power can do is levitate you and you know it

oh goddammit, the next one's title is literally That Bit with the Gifs and the Hall & Oats Memes, the bit I been waiting for this entire time, but I just watched four in a row (four HEAVY ones) and I wanna stop. I'm just gonna have to save it and open on it (and Knife Girl's BS) next time

[priest-of-the-fortunate]

my silly little terraria story except i do not provide any context and just this dash simulator :3c

7 notes

🍄 experimment002 Follow

are we gonna talk about the amount of fascinating figures we have in our current mythology? hello? terraria's religion nerds? are you out there?

⏳ bigender-treasure-finder Follow

If you're wondering about the deities, they're panicking about the moon right now. It's interesting.

🍄 experimment002 Follow

how do you know? (not saying ur wrong)

⏳ bigender-treasure-finder Follow

I unfortunately have eye witnesses.

🌵 sandsandandsand Follow

Can confirm! Hi, Clay!

⏳ bigender-treasure-finder Follow

Hi Nero.

#What to do if the god of sands does not leave you alone #Asking for a friend

32 notes

🩸 tastes-of-metal Follow

Ay, if you kinda.. I don't know.. guard a dungeon as a lifetime job.... hit me up. My ask box is open or whatever.

🦴 empty-rooms Follow

you know you can just dm me, right?

🩸 tastes-of-metal Follow

Yeah 🥰

🦴 empty-rooms Follow

why are you like this

#we are dating #i love him

59 notes

🌕 faaaangs Follow

Unpopular opinion: There are too many moon gods. Choose one and stick with one! We don't need a blood moon or whatever you all like to do these days.

🩸 tastes-of-metal Follow

OP is the demigod of eclipses!! Do not listen to it!!

🌕 faaaangs Follow

SHUTTETH YON UPPETH, BEAST OF BLOOD

🩸 tastes-of-metal Follow

I'LL TELL ON YOU TO YOUR PUMPKIN BOYFIE

🌕 faaaangs Follow

HEY

#PUMPKIN MOON IS WAY COOLER THAN A BLOOD MOON #WHAT IS BETTER? HALLOWEEN OR RANDOM RED STUFF?

121 notes

🪡 the-forsaken Follow

The ways of this website are nice. You all seem to have your own little ecosystem. Are there any in-spoken laws of sorts?

☁️ coooolbreeze Follow

Try to give your mutuals a little silly stuff once in a while :3c

🪡 the-forsaken Follow

I see.

🪡 the-forsaken Follow

Your cloud art is beautiful, the shapes you make with such material is impressive.

☁️ coooolbreeze Follow

It doesn't necessarily need to be a compliment, but thank you so much!! TwT

#This is why I love this site #Everyone is so nice

48 notes

🤍 that-guy Follow

this place scares me

🕷️ mindsofmany Follow

op do you happen to be Byron, the man from the moon, perchance?

🤍 that-guy Follow

..no.

#help?

29 notes

[beautifulpersonpeach]

bpp sorry if this isn't the content you want on your blog after yesterday but is it ok if i ask for clarification on sth? i know youre army you don't like solos but i like reading solos for a wide span of info. i don't like to be in a bubble of echo chambers

i saw a post and i'll send the link right after this ask but the person was criticizing a post you made but it confused me bc what you wrote didnt match what they said. they didn't post your name but i know its you because you always start your answers with 3 dots

***

many armys say they like jimin but they pretend. i don't think youre like that but your answer is confusing so can you clarify? its like you allow jjks to shit on jimin but you drag out pjms only. armys do this over and over. its sad if youre the same bc i like your blog.

***

Please block me.

Actually, you know what? Don't. At least not just yet. Let's do this instead.

I checked the link you sent. I'd received that link a couple other times today accompanied with more hostile language, so I ignored it. But I checked out yours because I wondered what was so serious you couldn't add the link to your main ask, so if you're all in fact the same person sending that link, kudos for getting my attention.

And thank you for sending that to me, because now I'd like to use you and that post to make an example of what I'm talking about when I say solo stans think differently and are just less intelligent. In my opinion.

For other readers, I'm not going to link it directly so as to not draw more attention to them, and since they're stalking my blog to make an example without directly mentioning me or showing my blog name, I think it's only fair I react in kind by also not making a direct mention.

Here’s the post (mine) in question:

*

Here is the akgae's takeaway from the post above (mine):

**

Already, the dissonance between the first and second screenshot should be obvious. I’ll explain in any case just so everyone can follow along.

Shortly after Jimin released Closer Than This, I received an ask from someone who calls themselves a PJM (a Jimin akgae), who said they hate the song and also hate his voice. But that they are his solo stan because he’s “talented and hot”.

I responded that they, the Jimin solo stan who hates his ARMY song and voice, isn’t exactly a rare breed. And that Jimin has ARMY supporting him anyway. This is within the context of me always saying solo stans don’t actually like the person they choose to solo stan (if they did, they wouldn’t be akgaes), and that an akgae’s experience is more about them and their personal insecurities than anything Jimin (or any other BTS member) is actually doing.

Months later (present day), another Jimin solo stan quotes that ask and my response, as proof of me (1) going “sameee you’re so valid”, (2) not correctly identifying that person as someone who actually antis Jimin a.k.a. his akgae, and (3) as proof of me believing “one is more talented and more deserving than the other” re: Jungkook vs Jimin.

…is there even anything more for me to say?

Y'all, I bet you something like 90% of the shit that has solos constantly bouncing off the walls starts from things like this: a complete lack of reading comprehension coupled with gaps in logic and pre-conceived notions/insecurities. If I wanted to be really mean, there's so many places I could take this post right now, but I'll stop here for now.

That post made me laugh because the entire thing is a comedy of errors. The OP Anon in that akgae's post, is actually talking about another 'blogger' (who I know and generally like but that's besides the point), but the akgae responding to them mistook OP Anon's 'blogger' to be me, and then proceeded to write what's in the second screenshot...

It's just sad.

I've lost count of how many times I've been the subject of callout posts on Tumblr and each time it's been something like this lmaooo. Each time it's been by akgaes (and their exile varieties) and shippers. The last time this happened, I was a taekooker, and now someone has essentially embarrassed themselves with a lamentable lack of reading comprehension to spin a pretty innocuous post into... alladat.

This is how drama is manufactured in fan spaces out of plain stupidity.

*

There are many reasons I don't like akgaes, but one top reason is because they dumb down the quality of conversation in whatever space they're in. It's part of why I have such a disdain for 'discourse' in k-pop spaces in general, because oftentimes, the people most eager to write paragraphs on end while being hateful and/or victimizing, are people who don't know what they're talking about or lack basic skills in reading comprehension, among other things. ARMYs and k-pop stans are guilty of this too, but you're more likely to run into culprits in akgae 'discourse' spaces or adjacent ones.

I've given examples of this many times but here's a couple here, and here.

I'm not even trying to be condescending, I don't actually think I know all there is to know about Jimin, BTS, and k-pop, I just no longer have the patience for people who choose remain in spaces filled with akgaes and who keep bringing their nonsense into my inbox. And what's worse asking me to clarify sentences that a grade 5 student should be able to parse in any language.

Anyway Anon, now, you can block me.

[imhereonthekitchenfloor]

you can post this or not but i figured i'd tell you: not posting because i'm israeli and don't feel safe engaging with pro-palestinian content. the vast majority of it is made in good faith but you can't tell the difference between what is and what isn't, which makes me deeply uncomfortable. a lot of the fundraisers are scams, or go into hamas's pockets. a lot of the awareness spreading posts are made or motivated by people with anti-Semitic or anti-Israeli sentiments, including both posts that claim to provide historical context and updates kn the current situation. there's a lot of misleading info out there. my personal stance is that you can and should be pro-palestine AND pro-israel. you can and should be anti-hamas and anti-bibi. there's no space for that here. (there's a great NYT oped from a couple days ago that breaks down the nuance of the situation and aligns almost 100% with my own view called "How to Think Through the Moral Tangle in Gaza" if you're interested)

I think tumblr is a wonderful website for people to get a summary on major world news that might not be traditionally catered to them in the media. And tumblr is also nice because we dont need to fight backwards thinking and can thus actually talk about lesser known intricacies of the issue. I also think tumblr is a very bad website for any sort of nuance against the majority opinion in these situations as we are all anonymous users without context to anyone who doesn't follow us.

I understand where you are coming from!! I have a Jewish friend whose sister was in Israel at the start of this and her stance has always been she wants a better life for all the people and how heartbreaking this war is on all sides. We all know why Palestine is getting the attention it is, but that doesn't take away from the conflict in the area and how this too will need to be resolved. I understand you keeping out of this and I don't think that's a bad thing. (I haven't been posting a ton for the very reason you mentioned of not knowing what sources are good.) I am not going to blindly post and have been trying to support legitimate groups. This all being said, I'm sure this is all really stressful for you. I hope you are mentally doing okay right now and hope you can find a good balance online💕

[2n2n]

Could you do an analysis of the TBHK theme song. The lyrics seem like it’s Tsukasa talking to Hanako.

No. 7? Well, I'll say that... I don't know how much we can analyze anything made by anyone other than AidaIro themselves. Many anime explicitly don't follow the story beats of the manga as they progress, as they can't spoil the manga's story, and must develop separately. I'm not sure, case by case, what a crew is given to work with. For manga like FMA or Black Butler, the anime (FMA's 2003 anime) becomes completely and utterly different, and couldn't lampshade later arcs or even central themes for major characters. Nothing about those anime would really help you understand the manga, because the writing teams are different.

even when looking at the manga, one can't scrutinize a piece of dialogue without looking at the original japanese iro-sensei themselves wrote, where implications could be different.

While we do know AidaIro typically are very involved with things like cafe events and the anime's casting, I just don't know how much a hand they'd have in something like the lyrics to the opening song ... or what that artist was given/told by the staff? The lyricist is ANCHOR (Hiroki Suzuki) , who just does lyrics and/or compositions for many unrelated productions, as you'd expect. I don't know how ANCHOR works. I'm not really qualified to look into their production, though they seem to have an instagram.... not much there though.

NOW, I will say, the musical rendition of JSHK did a lot of atmospheric and loaded things (mostly in its choreo and staging) which felt backed-up by the later manga, outside of what the play was presenting. So, that at least made me wonder if Iro-sensei discusses things like general themes, Tsukasa's role, etc.... without maybe discussing incredibly specific story beats? I'd believe that Iro-sensei's writing is rich in themes and a very core direction that could be conveyed to the team, given to work around.

The lyrics of the anime are loaded with appropriate meaning that has only become more valid in the continued context, and also make me personally feel insane about my own theories, because it kind of supports them. But why or how? I have no idea. *cries*

I think you're right that it sounds like Tsukasa's perspective. Urging for a different outcome, to try again, change fate, or perhaps let it all happen just the same, all over again-- a want to see how this story could end, beckoning and pulling. Observing the repetition of suffering. I particularly like ah... "no scythe for grass that doesn't grow" which is a fun spin on the typical "the nail that sticks out is hammered down". Very Hanako's original philosophy, isn't it? Sticking to the laws and confines in which he is trapped.

Now, I personally am distracted that the cut opening talks about 'Seven faults, incomplete' (makes sense-- the 7 mysteries are all merely kaii blessed with one piece of a central God, whom power is returning to-- an incomplete entity)-- but the FULL song starts singing about "the eighth" and begins saying "eight faults, incomplete" ...

一か八か綱渡りって　八番目は無いだろ？ 四苦で八苦さ　引く手数多 七転んで　罰が当たる おいでおいで　奇々怪々 我が身八癖　未だに不完全で 未完成だから踠いてるんだ

plays-on-words suchas 一か八か & 八苦

Most of the mysteries names contain a reference to their number, and suspiciously, Yashiro's name also has a number tucked into it, eight 八.

But why of all things would so much emphasis on 'eight' be in the ANIME OP??????????????????????? WE'RE 100 CHAPTERS IN AND WE HAVEN'T TOUCHED ON 'EIGHTH'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I feel crazy enough, referring to Nene-chan as a possible 8th mystery-- containing another fragment of the God, blessed somehow, bestowed power, by-- what-- Tsukasa????? How when??? But, I do think something is true! I do think she's tied innately to the mysteries! If you destroy them all, you'll destroy her! She's clearly a human who couldn't be alive without the mysteries! Could Tsukasa, the well God, be why Nene-chan is alive at all?

I would personally love to see somebody fluent in Japanese do a nice in-depth paroozal of the lyrics! I really don't feel I can. I can barely scratch the surface. There is a lot of poetry and symbolism in things like song lyrics which can be very difficult to ground.... I wouldn't be able to identify anything.

.... and as I said... I wouldn't know how much meaning to take from it.

for now it only makes me feel slightly insane

I'm sorry for the post's low quality

[insanitysilver]

Hi! I'm doing a school design project and I've decided to have a go at designing a Archive of Our Own app! I was wondering if you might be up for answering some questions to help me with my design (I need to show research in my project!)

If you are, answers to these would be SUPER helpful!

How long have you been engaging fanfiction sites such as Archive of our own, Fanfiction.net and Wattpad? 

What are some of your favourite works or fandoms on those sites? 

Are you a writer as well as a reader?

What drew you to these platforms and why do you stay? 

How long have you been engaging with the site Archive of Our Own specifically? 

What does your engagement with the platform look like? 

How often do you engage with the platform?

What are your favourite aspects of the platform? 

Do you think that you engage with all of the elements available on the platform?

Are there any elements of the platform that frustrate you? 

Of the fanfiction sites you frequent, where would you rank the site as a whole and why?

What do other platforms have that Archive of Our Own does not, which you enjoy interacting with? 

Are there any features unique to Archive of Our Own that you enjoy?

If Archive of Our Own were to develop a mobile app, what features would you like to see? 

Would you like the app to be similar in aesthetic and function to the already established website?

Are there any features you would like to see added to the platform in the app?

If you're not interested no worries! Thanks so much

Ah, what a cool project!

I’m sure you know, op, but context for anyone else reading: ao3 does not have an official app because those continual development costs would siphon off some of their limited funding, so they focus on optimizing the mobile browser experience instead. [Source]

But! I do still think the project will be both fun and worthwhile, and once you’ve finished I think you should try connecting with AO3 and sharing a copy of your research. Maybe you stumble on a brilliant idea that can be implemented on the mobile browser version.

How long have you been engaging fanfiction sites such as Archive of our own, Fanfiction.net and Wattpad?: I started reading fic on fandom-specific webforums and made the jump to FFN shortly after. It’s been ~14 years now.

What are some of your favourite works or fandoms on those sites?: Oh geez you can’t do that to me. I have pages upon pages of bookmarks. Recently I’ve enjoyed:

Fractal by Ias, Silmarillion, Teen, 8,075 words https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272421

Are you a writer as well as a reader?: Yes

What drew you to these platforms and why do you stay?: They’re community hubs, so that’s the biggest draw. I use AO3 exclusively these days because it houses a large body of work that’s very easy to filter through.

How long have you been engaging with the site Archive of Our Own specifically?: ~9 years.

What does your engagement with the platform look like?: I get on, I read, I post work, I check the site news, leave reviews, respond to comments, etc.

How often do you engage with the platform?: Can be once every 1-2 weeks or multiple times a day. I go through phases.

What are your favourite aspects of the platform?: A robust filtering system with no algorithms pushing work in front of me.

Do you think that you engage with all of the elements available on the platform?: Oh, absolutely not. I consider myself pretty proficient with AO3, but I’m still learning new tricks regularly. I don’t really do secret santas or gift exchanges, so that’s a whole field of features I’ve barely touched.

Are there any elements of the platform that frustrate you?: So much of what I want from AO3 is already on their to-do list. Top of my personal list is pervasive, site-wide filters in a more formal capacity beyond jury-rigging site skins.

I want to be able to go to my profile, and add tags to my blacklist so I never see work with X ship or X fandom or X rating, or X author, etc.

I would also love to be able to subscribe to tag clusters instead of individual tags. So not just follow “character A/character B” but follow specifically “A/B, exclude C/B, words >5000” etc., and have those works blurbs appear in some sort of dashboard on my homepage as they’re posted.

Of the fanfiction sites you frequent, where would you rank the site as a whole and why?: Ao3’s not flawless, but it’s certainly head and shoulders over FFN and Wattpad. FFN’s minimal tagging and tight summary wordcount limit always made finding things more tedious. Plus the new mid-story ads are unforgivable. I’ve never read more than a few lines on Wattpad and find it hellish to navigate with all the promoted stories being shoved in front of you.

What do other platforms have that Archive of Our Own does not, which you enjoy interacting with?:

FFN: I do like that they force authors to pick 1-4 main characters, and 1-2 main relationships. I also like the forced genre tag class a lot. Fanfic has a reputation, especially on AO3, for being very focused on romantic relationships, which is perfectly fine, but I think showing a list of genres to pick helps reassure authors that if they want to write a western or a mystery, there’s space here for that too.

Wattpad: I’ve seen a lot of Wattpad expats mention how much they miss the in-built function to comment line-by-line. Authors enjoy the specificity of those comments, and readers have said they feel more like they’re in a community with other readers that way. There is an ao3 site script for a floating comment box that follows with you as you read, but I read mostly on mobile and that’s desktop only.

Wattpad will also display a work’s read time. (Yes there also is an ao3 site script for that, again, doesn’t work on iOS mobile) Would love to see that built into the site w/ options to customize your reading speed.

Are there any features unique to Archive of Our Own that you enjoy?: Robust tagging, public and private bookmarks w/ the ability to add notes,a read-later list

If Archive of Our Own were to develop a mobile app, what features would you like to see?: Writers tend to post from desktops, so for a mobile app I’d spend my resources on ppl accessing it to read. Make navigating the archive easy, reading easy, and commenting (and responding to comments) easy. Everything after is just icing imo.

Would you like the app to be similar in aesthetic and function to the already established website?: I mean, cohesive branding is never bad, but I wouldn’t mind if it looked prettier while retaining the same functionality.

Are there any features you would like to see added to the platform in the app?: Mostly every new feature I’d want on an app, I’d also want implemented on the main site. I suppose an offline reading mode could be nice for those who don’t want to go through the trouble of downloading individual fics to their phone as ebooks.

Best of luck with your project!

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 27 DAENERYS II (pages 383-392)

Dany arrives in Qarth, and finally gets caught up on the gossip from Westeros re: Bobby B vs The Boar.

If the reader had a penny for every time someone claiming to be a Dany fan decided to deliberately bad faith read one of their Dany-chapter-posts and leave hate, the reader would have two pennies, which isn't a lot but is still making the reader wonder if they should just skip Dany chapters in the future. The reader remains "not here for that shit," and would like to remind folks that shit gets auto-blocks.

-

On the walls of Qarth, men beat gongs to herald her coming, while others blew curious horns that encircled their bodies like great bronze snakes. A column of camelry emerged from the city as her honor guards.

This opening paragraph really drives home just how much complexity D&D stripped away to make make Dany a "cool underdog fighting for her every scrap." Like yes, she had to fight for everything, (although she also has a lot of luck and inherent power and status from just having dragons,) but they removed the entire Vaes Tolorro thing, which, yeah okay, only lasted a single chapter, but it also was an important breathing moment that showed Dany's willingness to build, to grow things, to regain her footing in the wake of what was a huge shift in her mentality from leader('s wife) of the khalasar to having almost nothing. (Also, on the subject: D&D making Doreah a self-interested betrayer because they think women have very few settings (bitch, plot device, meek, one of the guys) was absolute garbage. just like them.)

"Qarth is the greatest city that ever was or will be, (...) ancient beyond memory of man and so magnificent that Saathos the wise put out his eyes after gazing upon Qarth for the first time, because he knew that all he saw thereafter should look squalid and ugly by comparison."

Qarth is the Taj Mahal!? I'm sorry, I shouldn't joke about real human suffering. (It's also not a one-to-one but my brain knee-jerk connected.)

The women wore gowns of that left one breast bare,

Why though? Is there a specific reason? Or did GRRM just decide to half-ass the tits out look? I have questions about support, and whether its up-from-under or a wedge-cut from over, like Jane Foster's one-tit armour in Thor. The second one. Also: Qarth sounds so cool. (I hope those sandals the kids were wearing were only golden coloured though, or if not, at least it means they'll never be able to skip leg day.

"A honor as rare as summer snows."

I don't know why but this made me snort. I think it's partly because summer snows aren't rare at all in the north of Westeros, so this changes his sentence for context, but I know he means locally. I think it's also in part because my brain is going "wrong grammar is wrong" because 'honor' is one of those silent(ish) 'h' words that sound like it starts with a vowel, so my brain's like, "it's either "an 'onor" or you're pronouncing the 'h'. "a HHhhhhhhonor."" I might just be very tired.

"We have seen only the parts of Qarth that Pyat Pree wished us to see," she went on. "Rakharo, go forth and look on the rest, and tell me what you find. Take good men with you - and women, to go places where men are forbidden."

Yes, good. Trust but verify, except don't trust these people. Good thinking to send the ladies, way too often authors just ignore female spaces (... unless they're brothels.)

Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped on enough tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father. But before she could do that she must conquer.

Well now I'm sad. ... *pushes season 8 off the table like a cat with a vase*

Beneath Dany's gentle fingers, green Rhaegal stared at the stranger with eyes of molten gold. When his mouth opened, his teeth gleamed like black needles.

Ahhhh, so their teeth are black like their bones! I had wondered about that. Like I got the vibe with the skelies, but living dragons also: check!

"Dragons die." She stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on an unshaven cheek. "But so do dragonslayers."

oh now there's a raw-ass line. It has like an... almost inverse energy of that quote about dragons and stories... what was it...

Fairy tales do not tell children dragons exist. Children already know the dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed. - G.K. Chesterton

What's interesting about Dany's line is her acknowledgment that dragons die, when previously she's mentioned them as being powerful and nigh on indestructible creatures. Usually though she's using the references in metaphor for herself and those around her as a kind of mental housekeeping and protective adjustment, like Arya and her 'fear cuts deeper than swords' mantra.

Coming close on the heels of her talk with Jorah and captain Quhuru Mo of the Cinnamon Wind, it's kind of a blend of her previous imagery and "I understand that I am not in the best position of power, that I can still fail if I'm not careful, but so could my enemy, because they've lost their balance too."

[mellowgoop]

tumblr gave me music thoughts so now tumblr has to recieve said music thoughts...

context of cute manga teasing aside the take op was into hit such a nerve because like... are we just at a point where we call all the stuff music fans once thought was impressive "mid" (bad) in order to look smart?? I heard some kids on campus bashing like a ton of other classic rock bands and saying like Nirvana was trash the only truly good band was X

AND ITS fine to get to that place like whatever, we're people and those are always the thoughts we end up at... but there's nothing true about it with music imo

if you're saying AC/DC is mid because it's just generic and simplistic then are you trying to say you value originality? because it feels like bands that get too far in the weeds with complicated music and weird vibes like Radiohead get praised as the coolest thing ever during the time that they're the most intentional and creative thing that a person has heard and then they just find something more complicated and more intentional that speaks to them more and forget about the last thing until they're listening to 17/4 bossa jazz from ireland because its the Only Thing that speaks to them and that's definitely not the core of originality, that's just your personal taste

I understand wanting to toss out old opinions when they were once used to say that all pop music was junk and overly simplistic but if youre just going to say that your favorite indie band Dopus Popus is the one true artistically inspired band because it uses the sharp seventh chords that speak to your soul you're doing the same thing that Radiohead fans did before

maybe this is junk I definitely don't always have the best perspective on music but in my mind there are two poles where there's simple stuff that resonates with people widely like pop music using tried and true formulas and then an ocean of things going in their own direction with all kinds of more complex stuff that speaks to less people but more deeply

I could see getting mad at what people used to call the most interesting and innovative popular rock bands because they don't go far enough in either direction, these days being too artsy and self-centered to appeal to daywalkers but not artsy enough to be sophisticated "cool"

but now you're just putting them in the middle of a chart where the coordinates are just how much secret spice they used and how much they deviated from what was popular and you're kind of just hunting for outliers in a matrix of data at that point

I think there's a huge value in simple pop music that works for lots of people and a ton of value and music that uses lots of tools to create something fresh and rich and complicated and all that stuff in the middle has value too because, and this is a good part

~taste is so fucking subjective~

maybe I'm out of touch with the objective measurements people use for music these days but being pretty plugged into games I just think it's so much easier to spot a bad game (literal bugs and issues we all know are missing or dry mechanics that engage nonody) then it is to spot bad music because Ballon Wonder World is probably never going to appeal to anybody on that deep of a level but any once-innovative now-forgotten rock band still has the potential to mean so much to so many people and that's where I place value for sure, as pretty much a retired music critic of some kind at this point

and to be blunt most of the people I know who studied music and really associated their identities with it ended up in the same trap of finding the sound that spoke to them and, because they had to go off the beaten path for it and can see the artistic merit that sets it aside from what they don't like, think it's God's gift to man and look down at everybody who doesn't like it

when we are comparing apples to oranges to bananas and pears and changing up whats "objectively mid" every once in a while based on how many seeds it has or how hard it is to peel

[tarraxahum]

Hi op. Your post has been haunting me for a few days now, and I think I will explode if I don't interact with it. That being said, don't worry, I'm agreeing with you here.

And a panel that I would like to slap on here is this one from one of the Daydream Hour additional comics:

Falin has absolutely zero problems with firmly saying 'no' to Marcille. She only goes along with stuff she wants to or at the very least doesn't mind. That's very much a counter-definition of a pushover or a people-pleaser.

I'm putting the rest under the cut, 'cause as per usual, I got long.

That's not to mention that, as you've pointed out in that one reblog thread, if she was a desperate people-pleaser, her attitude towards school or even people of her hometown would hardly be what it is. She's a weird kid who fully realized that she's seen as weird and went "Ah, well" about it. Sure it makes her kinda sad, especially at the Academy pre-Marcille, but she's not going out of her way to change the way that people see her. Their loss, she has her grasshoppers.

And then she has two people who are actually fine with her being herself, and she likes being with them, so why not spend time with them?

As far as the Toshiro thing goes, well.

(Sorry, didn't find a better quality)

You're also correct, as per Adventurers' Bible Falin considered his proposal more out of the practical "Well, I don't exactly have a line of suitors waiting for me, maybe I should?" than feeling bad about refusing. If anything, she felt bad about potentially accepting (which is. a totally healthy reason to feel bad). So her considering it is not selfless - it's, in fact, selfish.

I think the misconception about her is heavily based on her role in the story, where everyone is trying to save her, and then, naturally, as you've also pointed out, fusses about her. Because who wouldn't fuss about a dear person revived from the dead?

Marcille is actually the one sometimes subjected to the same mistakes in canon, as seen in her assuming that Laios stole Falin against her will. And it's also spelled out very much in canon that being from a long-lived race, plus having known Falin since she was shorter than her, colors Marcille's perception in a certain way. Hell, she calls the Touden parents "kids" when she hears how old they are. Combine her point of view with Laios', who is Falin's older brother, and the fact that they're both worried, and it's no wonder Falin's mistaken for infantilized.

When in actuality she firmly gets in Marcille's face to say "No, it was my choice to leave", and with Laios... Well, they look for each other in the equal measure at the very least. (Love your observation that she names at least one of the dogs and therefore kicked his ass at least once as a kid, by the way.)

I also think the little drawings of Marcille fussing over Falin's hair or (in the Daydream Hour) nagging her choice of clothes or haircuts adds to the feeling of "Ah, so she lets herself be pushed around" and... first of all, none of those are canon per se, and second of all, even if we assume it translates in canon somewhere... Did Falin change her clothes because Marcille voiced her opinion? No. Just as she didn't stop eating berries or catching bugs. If anything, she influenced Marcille much more than Marcille did her. Moving on.

Stealing the image from your own post, sorry, but I felt it's needed here for context--

I do think it's not accidental that Falin's character arc, what there is of it, ends up with her wanting to explore the world regardless of Laios and Marcille. I do, however, also think, that it's more so her own desire than the dragon's (maybe they're just in agreement).

When Marcille met Falin, she was this girl in a dirty uniform with leaves in her hair, who would run away to explore the forest and the dungeons instead of studying. When we meet Falin in the post-canon omake, she's... got leaves in her hair and has been exploring the nearby natural dungeons. Her wandering habits are exactly the same.

We already know that she's not attached to Marcille at the hip 'cause she ran away once and vanished for 4 good years with only "Ha-ha, has it been that long?" to show for it (which, again, people-pleaser where?). I don't think she'd do that now, of course (whatever the relationship interpretation, poor Marcille would get a heart attack, considering all that had happened), but still, she's not likely to hide her desire to travel either.

And as for Laios, well, he says it himself. He learned to be open to people, dared to show himself more, he got friends now who actually consider him a friend. Before, if Falin left him, he risked to get malnourished again, get accidentally eaten by a monster or get in any other amount of trouble, since she used to be the only one who understood him. Not that it tied her to him by force, she clearly loves her brother and enjoys spending time with him (they're both weird together! they respect each other and see each other as amazing!), but also "Oh no if he leaves like that he'll probably die" was definitely a factor in her ditching the Academy without a second thought. (which one are we infantilizing, again?) (<- that is a joke, our autistic king is not a child either)

Now she knows he's in good hands, loved, respected by the people, and she will always know where to find him.

But also he's now tied to one place, so if she wants to wander free like she was always prone to, then she has to do it without him.

So I personally love that her personal arc ends up in her wanting to see the world and be herself beyond just merrily hanging out with Laios or/and Marcille. And the fact that the dragon probably amplifies that desire.

But she was never shackled by them and never denied herself because of them. This is just the first time in a long while where what she wants branched out from where they're going, and it's time to find out what that means. They got separated, Laios and Marcille got to do some personal growth without her, now it's her turn. That's just how life works, isn't it.

She's done it once already, alone at the Academy before Marcille, when she found a crack in that wall, and she's already doing it again, climbing the dungeons and eating Senshi's food with literally no one else being aware of what she's up to.

Altho this time, wherever she goes, she always knows she can come back to the place where people will gladly eat together with her. (And she likely got a lot of such people around the world now, considering how glad everyone was to see her in the final chapter!)

(Side note - I think that with a considerable part of Tumblr being the 'traumatized neurodivergent website' a lot of us are either people-pleasers ourselves or have friends like that, so we see a character being nice and smiling to everyone and then sacrificing themselves for others, and immediately assume them to be this self-sabotaging martyr who will keel over before they stand up for themselves in fear of upsetting anyone ever and... yeah that's just not who Falin is, at all.

Hell knows I almost fell into this trap myself - which is why your post got me thinking this much. Always good to analyze something that gets you a knee-jerk defensive reaction at first. So, uh, thank you, if you read this far, it helped a lot!)

not to be annoying but i do think a lot of people mischaracterize falin. shes got the most drastic canon v fanon thing going on. which i guess makes sense bc 1. we dont see much of her and 2. lot of the fan stuff are anime-onlies that have seen even less

but i think like a good 90% of the time i see falin-centric art or posts im like hrm hrm hrm thats all wrong no nope no-siree

she's just a cool chick that takes life as it comes, doesn't hold grudges even against a mother that apparently was trying to beat the magic outta her, finds her older brother the coolest person in the world, and has autism about observing life (and death, she loves the ghosts she has a connection to) and nature and taking care of things (including taking care of her brother, which is why she's even in the dungeons; she saw her scrawny mess of a brother and decided she had to fix that).

and i think my favorite part that people don't talk about is... she would have done the same for marcille or laios if it were one of them that was eaten. you could see it in her eyes:

it's what shuro misunderstands about her. it's easy to see her feminine, cute, good girl pieces and forget the rest of her. but she loves things to an ends-of-the-earth extent; the kind of caring that makes you a little insane. and that's how I think she and laios end up on the same page with their weirdness. they have different interests, but they are the same level of committed to those interests.

it's easy to love her, because she probably loves you just as much, if not more.

EDIT: for the love of god stop reblogging this only to add some comment or tag or reply saying 'op you forgot [BLATANTLY FANON INTERPRETATION]'. falin as we know her is not a pushover/people pleaser/infantilized, see this version of my post. also stuff like 'female shuro was in love with laios in the genderbent comic' and 'falin was going to marry shuro because she felt bad' are just things you made up in your head

[pastrytown]

hi im just wondering if you're aware of the fact that the post you rbed about the hate against trans men is very transandrophobia/transmisandry truther aligned? i dont feel like i have a better way to word this

Hi I'm on break now so I'm gonna answer this.

The post ^ for context

Yeah anon, you're right my bad. In my defense I only slept four hours and was awake at three in the morning idk what was going through my brain when I rbed it, reading it now leaves a very bad taste in my mouth seeing as the most prominent hate campaign that terfs actively engage in is transmisogyny. Anyways op seems to be an active transmysandry truther after reading his pinned post so whoops. Sorry abt that etcetc