#one suggestion could be nothing but two suggestions seems to be building a pattern

[insignificant457]

Okay I'll bite, why do you think Virginia will step down as sovereign and who do you think will replace her?

Related thought: I was very into the idea of splitting the solar system into spheres of influence when Diomedes suggested it. Obviously his initial approach was naive. But it seems like a natural progression for the story, so I wouldn't be surprised if a Triumvirate does end up happening. Just need to pick a better third than 🙄Lysander🙄

Thank you for biting lol. The answer is Holiday!

I think it’s been foreshadowed quite a bit that Virginia will step down as sovereign once the war is done. In IG she tells Darrow that maybe after her term is up she won’t run for office again, and in DA when she’s escaping the citadel she vows that it’s the second to last time she leaves it, so clearly she’s had enough of the sovereigncy. And, to be honest, it seems many of the people have had enough of her. Yes the day of red doves was instigated by lilath and the abomination, but there had to have been resentment building for it to go off the way it did. And also, my girl deserves a BREAK. If she and Darrow both live they are heading off to a cabin in the middle of nowhere like “no one ever bother us again please and thank you.”

As for Holiday specifically as the replacement, I think it’s been foreshadowed as well. In DA, we find out she’s been reading Silenus’s meditations on Virginia’s recommendation, and Virginia says this:

And then in LB, she gives a rousing speech to what remains of the high command and victra says this:

We’ve seen her pull away from the howlers and more into virginias confidence over the last few books, and I think these two things could be setting her up as a replacement sovereign (or, honestly, a leader under a different title, as a signal that they are moving further away from the society).

And honestly, I think holiday would be a great candidate. She’s intelligent, level headed, firm but willing to compromise, humble without being a pushover. She’s an important figure in the initial rising, a long time son of ares, and she’s also got a legion military background, so I think she’s in a unique position to understand both the supporters and the skeptics of the republic.

She also has absolutely no desire for that kind of power, which is one of the qualities that make the best leaders, because she won’t become power hungry and abuse her position. And most importantly, she’s not a member of the previous ruling class. If the republic ever wants to move forward with true equality, they can’t keep handing the reigns from gold to gold to gold.

I also think, assuming Virginia lives and steps down willingly, she’d be a great confidante to holiday and be able to help her bear the weight of all those people. She’s mentioned how lonely the morning chair is, and I think she’d be more than willing to be an understanding ear if holiday took it over, since they’ve become so close.

Also, yeah, the spheres of influence really intrigued me when diomedes brought it up, especially since we saw how so many of the citizens of mercury were vehemently against the rising. I could see someone else (not Lysander obviously, as I suggested maybe Cicero since he got more focus than I expected this time around and he seems fed up with war already and more willing to lay down arms than, say, Julia au Bellona) ruling the core with some version of the hierarchy still intact but without the unwilling subjugation of anyone who doesn’t actively choose to, as diomedes said “give up their freedom in exchange for security.” Idk it doesn’t seem ideal, but this series is all about exploring the little gray areas.

[shuastar]

old money!wonwoo

genre/warnings: regency!au, old money!wonwoo, old money!reader, family name is yoon but nothing else is stated (korean is implied but never mentioned), suggestive (??? not really but..), implied past relationship

word count: 1783

a/n: ik the personalities kinda change in the middle but in my defense i wrote this at like 2am on 2 different days....wonwoo is still as hot so.. idk if i should turn this into a full-blown fic either [tumblr runs on reblogs!!]

“Are you even hearing yourself right now?” Your incredulous voice rings through the empty study. 

Wonwoo nods, bangs brushing into his eyes. “It can be contractual,” he pushes, quietly stepping forward.

The two of you stare at each other, the only sound in the room being the echoing ticking of the grandfather clock in the back of the room. You feel your confidence wavering as Wonwoo seems to not let up on his gaze, sinking deeper and deeper into what feels like your soul. Briefly, just briefly, you wonder how you two even came to this position at all. 

“Like a contractual marriage.” The words feel familiar on your tongue from the time you spent arguing with your parents on that very topic. The promise you made your fifteen-year-old self to marry for love, for your soulmate, for the one who would dance with you under the dim chandelier lights of your condo. So why did your stupid delusional heart catch on an erratic beat at the thought?

Wonwoo’s lips tug upwards at those words and you can’t help but notice how the remnants of his childhood dimples are still there. “Exactly. Like a contractual marriage.” His words are soft, uncharacteristic of the indifferent man you are used to. 

He dares to take another step forward, his fingers brushing your arms. You can almost breathe in his Armani cologne from how close you were. It makes your head spin – the scent of the cologne with a hint of his minty shampoo and aftershave. It threatens to break down all of your walls – the walls it took you years to build up.

When your eyes lift from the carpeted ground, you meet his eyes from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. They have an unfamiliar emotion swimming in the surface. It’s something that pulls you closer to him, unconsciously leaning in to gaze into his eyes. Almost as if your body wanted to memorize this effect on him. 

“Think about it,” he starts, “you don’t want to marry any of,” a pause, almost as if he adds it in for dramatic effect, “them,” he sneers. His eyebrows furrow and the perfect harmony of his stupid face crumples into one of bitter distaste. If he wasn’t standing as close, if his cologne wasn’t invading your senses, if he wasn’t staring at you with some unplaceable carnal expression in his eyes, you would have reached up and smoothed out the wrinkle on his forehead. Smoothed out the wrinkles on his perfect, pale, porcelain face. You would have reached a hand up to his jaw, trailing your fingers along his jawline and-

“Y/N,” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through your daydreams. He goes to push up his glasses, and you can’t help but notice the singular bracelet that adorns his wrist — woven tightly into an uncharacteristically messy pattern of blue and white waves. “If you don’t want this, you can tell me.” 

I can’t, you want to say. I can’t when you’re looking at me like that. With your stupidly pretty brown eyes and your stupidly gorgeous face. How could I ever say no?

He stares down at you, the corners of his lips pulled down into a hint of a frown. From this angle, the moon that shines through his study’s gigantic wood-framed windows, frames his body perfectly. His hair is tousled, in the way you remember only he can pull off. There is a faint giggling memory of watching your brother Jeonghan try to tousle his own hair like Wonwoo does, only to end up with blonde strands sticking up everywhere. 

You know you’re stringing it out for too long — you should’ve said something 10 seconds ago. BUt still, Wonwoo waits patiently, allowing your misted eyes to gaze over his body — from the tops of his hair to his expensive Thom Brown dress shoes. 

Your eyes land at the bracelet. 

“You can take it off, you know?” you whisper. It feels like a secret — the fact that Wonwoo still wears it; the fact that Wonwoo still remembers; the fact that the idea of you and Wonwoo once existed. 

Wonwoo is now the one silent, eyes fluttering to his bracelet. His fingers pick at the loose strands. The wave patterns move with every tug. For some reason, it makes your heart clench. 

“We’re done,” you say, “Remember?” Your words are harsh, almost forced out of your throat. It hangs uncomfortably in the air: an added tension in the thick, unbreathable air. 

”Not for me.” Wonwoo’s head rises, dark chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. 

Any words die in your throat. The three-word sentence Wonwoo uttered forces your lungs into a stop. Not for me. ‘Not for me’ your ass. Not done your ass. Because you remember sobbing in the hallways and him not giving a fuck. Because you remember hugging, begging, whining for him to stay. All for him to just say “no, it’s better this way,” and walk down the hallways. Not done your ass.

But you can’t bring yourself to say that. Not when his eyes blink slowly, lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. 

They stare directly into yours, before moving down your body. His fingers still tug on the bracelet. “It was never done for me. For you, maybe. But never for me,” he states. Confidence is laced in every syllable he utters. 

WOnwoo suddenly takes a step forward. You take a step backwards. Wonwoo. You. WOnwoo. You. Wonwoo. Yo- Wall. Your back slams against Wonwoo’s polished marble wall. The chilled marble sends shivers up your bare spine. A staggered gasp is ripped from the confines of your chest and your hands fly out and land on Wonwoo’s chest, stabilizing yourself. 

You tense, head tilted up against the wall, lips parted. You can feel the surge of heat against your cheeks. Your heart beats furiously in its cage, threatening to pound through your dress and spill onto the carpeted floor. Your hands suddenly feel embarrassingly sweaty and your fingers unconsciously clench Wonwoo’s black dress shirt. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, head bowing almost naturally, “Sorry, I don’t know what-“ you’re interrupted by your own muffled noise — something in between a gasp, whine, and murmur of protest. 

Wonwoo’s fingers now interlace with your own, against his own chest. There isn’t a speck of hesitation in his deep eyes when he slowly moves your intertwined hands to rest just above his left pec (which you conveniently chose to ignore how defined it was). 

WOnwoo raises a brow, when you move to pull away. “I’m not gonna bite, sweets.”

You blush at the nickname, pressing yourself further into the wall, trying your best to sink into the marble behind you. “What are you doing?” you ask, hands still pressed up against WOnwoo’s chest.

”I don’t think you believe me.” Wonwoo splays your hands out. His eyes waver when his fingers cover yours entirely. They close for a split second, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. When his eyes flutter open again, they’re noticeably darker, more hooded. He swallows thickly when you turn your own eyes up to him “Fuck,” he whispers, forehead lowering towards yours. His hold on your hand tightens, pressing your fingertips into his pecs. 

You blink, pretending to ignore everything else. “Believe what?” Your lips lift up in a cheeky grin. “That you have man boobs? It’s okay, sweets, I think moobies are hot.” Your words barely even leave your mouth and you have the strongest urge to slap a hand over your mouth. Seriously. What the fuck were you saying? 

HOwever, as you blush out of scarce embarrassment, Wonwoo’s ears turn bright red and he groans. A deep gutteral groan leaves his parted mouth, followed by a shaky mutter of your name. His forehead lands on your shoulder, breath hot against your neck. One hand releases your hand and trails against your hips. It falters when it reaches your waist, before it snakes around and pulls you against him. 

“Fuck, you feel that?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep near your ear. It almost pisses you off, how hard you need to prevent a whine from falling from your lips. 

You’re about to say “Feel what?” when you actually do feel it. From the tips of your fingers, you can feel Wonwoo’s heartbeat. The muscle pounds a horse race against your fingers, going a mile a minute. 

You can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. “You’re gonna pass out at this rate.” 

You can feel a grin against your neck. Wonwoo’s hand — the one around your waist — roams a little lower. “You’re gonna tuck me in and kiss me goodnight if I do?” he teases, sharp canines nipping your delicate skin, punching out a gasp. 

“Wonwoo!” You gasp, hand lightly pushing his head away. “I have to go back down! Do not give me a hickey,” you huff, wiggling in his loosening grasp. 

Wonwoo pulls away at your words. “Y’ needa go down?” A shadow of a pout appears on his lips. “Didn’t even bite you that hard, sweets,” he argues. His words sound slightly slurred, almost forced as he stares at you. No. Not at you. Rather, at your lips. 

Either that or your chin. 

You would prefer lips. 

At least then you wouldn’t be the only one desperately wanting his worry-bitten lips on yours. 

You sigh, slipping your hands out of his. You can only offer a second of hesitation before you wrap your arms around his neck, nails lightly scratching his undercut. There is a small smile that plays aganst your lips as you rest your cheek on his chest (but not before you leave a fleeting kiss against the junction between his neck and shoulder). You can still hear his erratic heartbeat, stuttering in your grasp. 

“Wish you did,” you murmur, leaning some of your weight against him, trusting he’ll lift you up. 

Wonwoo’s arms circle your waist – lower than what you would’ve allowed before all of this. His hands splay across your back and lift you up, walking himself to the nearest surface, which happened to be his desk. 

“What?” 

You hum, now smiling as he places you carefully on the edge of his desk, inserting himself between your parted legs. His fingers paw at your waist. “Wish you did,” you repeat, your own fingers reaching up to brush strands of his hair out of his eyes. 

Wonwoo tilts his head dumbly. As if your words made all of his own words disappear. “Did what?” 

You coo, pulling him closer to you by his tie. Your cheeks are hot, you know, but it still doesn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth: 

“Wish you bit me.” 

[concretejunglefm]

Summary: While staying at an air bnb you accidentally flash the boys, where it all starts to descent into depravity.

Pairing: f!reader x all omens.

CW: thigh riding, mutual masturbation, hand jobs, spit, panty sniffing and licking, over all dirty talk and objectification around reader.

AN: This is fic is in two parts. this is part two. part one can be found here. credit to @kaliforniahigh and these anon's hereand here

Smut under the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

After dinner, you decided to watch a movie, which came as a welcome distraction from the earlier incident. Although you still felt a slight twinge of embarrassment, you were now covered up with one of Matt’s shirts, which made you feel slightly better. You were confident that there would be no more chances of any more mishaps like the one that had occurred.

When you enter the living room with the bowl of popcorn, you discover that most of the guys have occupied the two sofas, leaving you with no place to sit. 

“Wow, thanks, guys. I suppose I’ll just sit on the floor then.” You roll your eyes, but as you attempt to sit, you feel Matt’s hands grasp your waist, pulling you down and into his lap. 

“Or you could sit here instead.”

The involuntary squeal that escapes your lips is accompanied by laughter from everyone else as Matt effortlessly places you on his lap. Your position, straddling his thigh, not seeming particularly noteworthy at this time.

“That works,” you softly laugh, turning your head to glance over your shoulder at Matt. “Are you happy now?” You don’t even need an answer because the grin on his face speaks volumes.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the movie on the screen is Lord of The Rings. You’ve watched it countless times, especially during group watch parties like these. You don’t entirely mind, sometimes you find yourself drawn back into it, and other times you're entertained by their chatter. However, this time, you’re instantly distracted by Matt’s hands slithering beneath your shirt. They rest comfortably on your stomach, but as you start feeling the slow, gentle patterns of his fingers, you begin to squirm in place, unable to control the ticklish sensation they cause.

You miss the glances exchanged between Folio, who sits beside Matt, and Nicholas and Noah, who are on the other couch nearby. Your attention is drawn to the television and goosebumps start to form beneath Matt’s gentle touch on your gradually flushing skin.

As the tension builds, you feel a steady ache between your thighs. You angle your hips and press down, trying to subtly drag them against Matt’s thigh, bouncing your leg as usual to hide the obvious motion.

Unbeknownst to you, the looks being exchanged suggest your movements to be less than subtle. Bryan, Jolly, and Davis slyly smirk at each other, and a glance over to Matt who’s expression reveals that he’s been aware of your actions for a while. His eyes gleam with amusement, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he fixates on you, observing the way your hips rock in a rather obvious manner.

The longer you push on, the harder it becomes to suppress your pleasure, biting down on your lower lip, as if trying to stifle any sounds. Meanwhile, Matt’s fingers persist in their torturous patterns, barely touching the waistband of your shorts, causing you to gasp.

Everyone gazes at you, and you clear your throat, nodding towards the screen. “It always gets me.” But what exactly gets you, you have no idea, because your attention has long since wandered from the movie and is now focused on clenching around nothing, the longer you find yourself grinding down on Matt's thigh. 

Beneath your shirt, your nipples have hardened, something that Nicholas has noticed. In response, Nicholas nudges Noah lightly, causing them both to briefly glance over at you. Any need for their fantasies about your tits has disappeared, especially after the earlier eyeful of them. Instead, they recall that memory and shift on their seat, pulling on the front of their shorts and jeans to relieve the pressure from watching you quietly grind yourself on Matt’s thigh.

Matt is struggling the most. He’s aware of how close you are to him, grinding yourself down on his thigh like a needy little thing, as if you’re oblivious to the fact that he’d know exactly what you’re doing. His own arousal is pressing against the front of his shorts, but fortunately, you’re far enough away from him to not feel it. However, the temptation to grab you and pull you down against it while you continue to grind is only increasing.

Suddenly, you lean back, resting your head against Matt’s shoulder as your hips come to a stop. You clench, feeling the wetness already clinging to the fabric of your panties and you know they’ll be soaked by the time you remove them. Unaware of the wet patch that has rubbed off and down onto Matt’s thigh during your playful antics, you continue to rest there.

“Are you okay?” Matt whispers, his breath tickling the side of your head as his hand gently caresses your stomach, teasingly playing with the waistband of your shorts. 

For a moment, you freeze, your eyes fluttering shut. You’re torn between wanting more of  his touch, to have him alleviate the aching sensation that plagues your core. You don’t even mind if the rest of the guys witness it; all you crave is the relief from this excruciating need.

“Mhm,” you force out the sound, a bit strained as you try to maintain your composure. Matt’s persistent teasing makes it even harder for you to focus, but before your mind becomes too hazy and you start begging him to sink his fingers into you, you abruptly pull yourself up and onto unsteady feet before declaring, “I’m going to the bathroom!”

As you hastily make your exit, you strive to avoid appearing overly suspicious and the moment you’re out of sight, it’s as if all the guys simultaneously release a breath they’d all been holding.

“How did you manage to not break?” Folio hisses across to Matt, who raises a hand and holds up his index finger as if to warn him to be quiet. He listens attentively for your footsteps before being satisfied once he hears the bathroom door close.

“I almost did,” Matt confesses. “My hand was just inches from slipping down and… fuck.” He lets out a throaty groan, the mere thought of how close you were to him sending a quiver through him. 

“You’ve got her all over your thigh now,” Jolly says, gesturing down to Matt’s thigh, which is partially covered in a light streak of your wetness.

“Well, shit,” he mutters under his breath, contemplating how easy it would be for him to simply run a finger through it and take a taste. 

When he looks up, he realizes that he’s not alone in his thoughts, as everyone’s eyes seem to be fixed on his thigh. “Come on, we’re not animals,” he tries to argue, but the moment they hear the bathroom door open again, a tense silence falls between them.

Your footsteps are all that they hear, followed by your bedroom door. The moment it closes, Folio  immediately leaps off the couch and races towards the bathroom.

“Where are you headed?” Nicholas calls out, but his words are drowned out as he disappears further into the house.

Folio, call it intuition or simply perversion, decides to investigate the bathroom you claimed as your own upon arrival. To his surprise, he finds your discarded panties in the corner of the room. As he picks them up, he notices the fresh wet patch and brings his nose right into it, inhaling deeply. 

As suspected, the mere smell of your musk is already intoxicating, and Folio is on the verge of taking a daring taste before he feels the sudden slap of a hand on his shoulder.

“What do you have there, buddy?” Matt asks, pulling him back from his arousal-fueled state. When he turns to look back at his friend, he holds up the panties, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

Before Folio even has a chance to claim victory over them, as Noah did with your bikini top, Matt steals them from him and races back through the house to the living room, where all the guys are waiting.

“Behold what our boy Folio has discovered for our pleasure this evening, my friends.” Matt displays your panties for everyone to see, and Folio rushes in, trying to retrieve them from him. However, Jolly swiftly snatches them away and presses them firmly against his nose, unapologetically inhaling the scent of your damp crotch.

“Well, damn,” he purrs, rolling his tongue across his lips as he holds the panties up with his fingers, examining the wet patch. “They’re still fresh too.”

“Perhaps... it wouldn’t be a bad idea to... would it?” Nicholas subtly suggests, and a faint blush creeps up his cheeks, prompting Jolly to smirk in return.

“Would you like to go first?” From the corner of his eye, he notices Folio trying to grab your panties as Jolly extends them towards Nicholas, who hesitantly reaches for them, only to be encouraged by Noah.

“Go ahead. Consider this my penance for stealing your earlier victory.”

With bated breath, they all hover around and watch as Nicholas brings them up to his face. First, he teases his nose against the crotch and through your wet patch before his tongue peaks out for a taste. No amount of imagination could have prepared him for the reality, and a quiver travels down his spine, accompanied by an involuntary groan from his throat.

“That good?” Noah asks, but his own excitement overpowers him. He moves closer to his best friend, leaning in until his tongue dances just inches from his friend’s across the damp patch of the fabric.

There should’ve been some level of humiliation felt, especially for the way they were all acting, particularly Noah and Nicholas in this moment. Yet, instead, everyone eagerly stood or sat and waited with bated breath before your panties began making the rounds, each taking a turn to either taste or sniff them.

By the time each of them has had a chance to savor your panties, they’re all sitting around with their dicks hard, hands rubbing over the bulge that has formed in response. None of them are particularly shy, but it’s Matt and Jolly who are the first to slip their cocks free. They slowly and lazily stroke themselves as they continue to take turns passing your panties around to enjoy between them for a moment longer.

“Are you really going to do that?” Folio asks, as though he's suddenly become shy.

Matt shrugs in response, “Why not?” He reaches over to free his friend from his jeans after noticing the strain against the front. “Here, I’ll help you if you want.” A smirk crosses Matt’s lips as he glances over at Folio. When no protests come from him, Matt wraps a hand around his shaft and initiates a slow, synchronized motion with his own. “Spit a little on it,” he instructs, and Folio obliges, the spit trickling down onto the tip while Matt uses it, making his shaft slick and enabling smoother movements.

Noah and Nicholas, following Matt’s lead, reach over to slip each other's cocks from their confines. From his pocket, Noah pulls out your bikini top and offers it to Nicholas to enjoy. Earlier, he had masturbated with it, but instead of using it as a cum rag, he chose to keep it as a trophy.

When Noah offers it to him, Nicholas presses the bikini top up to his face. The faint scent of your usual perfume lingers on the fabric, and he’s instantly transported back to the memory of you flashing them, accidentally.

“Fuck, imagine if she was down here with us right now.” Jolly’s voice pierces through the harmonious rhythm of their hands working almost in unison.

“I’d like to think of her as being willingly down on her knees for us. Consider it her apology to make up for getting us this worked up.” Matt playfully jokes.

“Like a real jerk circle.” Jolly lets out a deep, throaty groan at the mere thought of you willingly kneeling in the middle of them as they stand in a circle.

“Have you ever thought about how pretty she would look covered in cum?” Davis speaks up, his hand lazily stroking his cock. A grin spreads across his face as he’s clearly lost in thought, just like the rest of them. In his hand, he clutches your panties, keeping them pressed close as he inhales the lingering scent of you. He can’t get over it; it’s intoxicating, and all he can think about is wanting to taste you, to truly taste you.

“All the time!” Folio doesn’t miss a beat. His voice breaks into a groan as his head falls back, savoring the rhythm of Matt’s hand in his cock. He can’t resist bucking his hips up into his movements, his eyes rolling back to the fleeting memory of when you were grinding yourself down on Matt’s thigh, so close to touch yet none of them did.

“What if we all cum on her panties?” Nicholas proposes, his thumb gently caressing the tip of Noah’s cock, his gaze still fixed on your panties held in Davis’s hand.

“What? And ruin the only pair we have?” Davis retorts in disbelief.

“We can find another pair,” Nicholas suggests, clearly convinced that they can either find another pair for themselves or at least work together too.

“Alright then,” Jolly says, nodding as he gets up from the couch and begins walking towards the center of the living room. 

Everyone else follows the Swedes’ lead. The seven of them—Jolly, Nicholas, Noah, Folio, Matt, Davis, and Bryan—stand in a circle together. Davis throws your panties down onto the floor, right in the middle of them.

They all start pumping their own cocks, working faster and quicker this time, aiming down at the lacy fabric that’s now partly crumpled on the floor. The remnants of you are almost gone as the wet patch from earlier has dried up.

Between them, they engage in a lewd exchange of dirty talk, all discussing and objectifying you. They share their thoughts and fantasies while you’re upstairs, only a room away from them. It doesn’t take long before they’re all on the edge of their climax, pumping themselves through it. Grunts and whimpers fill the room, accompanied by a chorus of your name as they each take turns aiming thick ropes of cum down onto your panties on the floor. Each is consumed by the idea of you there instead, willingly being painted with their cum—even better, allowing them to jerk off directly into your mouth. 

When they finish, each one takes an unsteady step back, falling back into the couches they had risen from. They take a moment to come down from their high, each of them feeling dizzy from the euphoria. Their act doesn’t bring any shame to them; instead, they revel in their depravity with glee.

“So, how are we going to get another pair?” Bryan asks curiously.

“Don’t worry about that. I have an idea,” Jolly speaks up, smirking and sinking back into the couch. 

It’s your final day at the airbnb and as you rummage  through your bag, you huff in frustration as you fail to find the extra pairs of panties you could have sworn you had thrown in with your underwear pile.

“Hey guys, have you seen my—” you call out, only to be interrupted by the deep, resonant voice of Jolly, drawing your attention towards the doorway.

“Looking for these?” he dangles a pair of your black, lacy panties from one long finger, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Yes, actually, thank you,” you approach him, clearing your throat and trying to push back the wave of embarrassment threatening to overwhelm you. “I’ll just take them—” you reach out to grab them, only for him to ball them up into his fist and take a step back.

“Nu-uh, finders keepers, love. And I found these in my laundry, so they’re mine now,” he says with a glint in his eye as they darken and he doesn’t even hide the fact that he’s slipping them down into his jean pocket.

You raise an eyebrow, rendered utterly speechless as he walks off, taking your last pair of clean panties with him.

Tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero

[carionto]

Humans seem to have a "switch"

Team building exercises and competitive events are commonplace around the Galaxy. Everyone needs a distraction from the daily grind every now and then, and large organizations and long-term deployments make it essential for such "ice-breaker" activities, both to help integrate newcomers as well as reduce the chance of veterans becoming numb to life.

Yarvut Lyetzsnezhniiy had recently been assigned as a Cultural Analyst to the Human embassy aboard the Coalition Governing Station. While highly professional on the job and quite amicable, but wasn't all that into small talk, and once the workday was over, he was gone. No overtime, no hanging out, nothing.

When time came for the next publicly broadcast Cross-Embassy Game Series, where as many members from each species represented would be paired up with each other over the course of several days and partake in a game both agreed to in advance. Most of these were of the mental variety, and were honestly kinda boring to observe, but some pairings opted for more... active activities.

On the second day the Humans and another bipedal species called the Jorval had agreed to a competition not dissimilar to laser tag. This had actually been proposed by the previous Cultural Analyst and recently been added to the roster with some modifications. Two teams of, in this case, 15 participants on each side, as that was how many Humans were available that day without hindering the core operations of their embassy, so a few Jorvals had to sit out.

They entered a large spherical room with about a 300 meter diameter. Once they were done with the formalities, rules about safety, and yadda yadda - they turned off the gravity. Using small boosters on their heels, knees, elbows, and back, the teams floated to their starting locations on opposite ends of the sphere. And now the obstacles gently puttered in from all sides, turning a pristine empty space into a jungle of jarringly colored geometric shapes, natural looking plant replicas, and numerous traversable but obscuring meshes that come in all colors and patterns. Where once you could observe the entire area from anywhere, now there were scarcely any vistas that would allow one to see more than 50 meters away.

All for a simple capture the flag laser tag game. The Jorval have fairly long lifespans and, though they have not engaged in any wars for generations, military training is compulsory and seen as a matter of course by most of their society, so even the most desk-dedicated office workers are in generally good shape and have some reflexive combat moves at the ready. The Human team on the other hand, had one guy who used to be in the army... 40 years ago, two had taken up martial arts as a hobby, and Yarvut who turns out was an air-soft enthusiast. The rest were your typical either slightly too thin or too thick office workers when it came to their physical readiness.

Before the signal to start, the army guy, Brandon, gave out some tips and pointers, though it was likely going over everyone's heads as they tried to adjust to moving around in zero-g. No sooner had the game started, Yarvut dashed off on his own. Everyone did kinda feel he might do a lone wolf thing, but that, unsurprisingly, was short lived, as not even the two minute mark had struck when Yarvut found himself ambushed from three sides and was now locked in his suit gently pressed up against a tree-like obstacle with a modest view of the Jorval turf.

It would be a best of three, and, predictably, the first match ended with a strong Jorval victory by the seventeenth minute mark. However, it was not a total wipeout as the initial minutes might have suggested. Half of the remaining Humans were taken out within five, but by then Brandon had gotten used to moving in all directions and keeping tabs on the z-axis as well, and was coordinating a defensive tactic with the remaining members. He knew they would lose this match, but he was bent on making the Jorval earn it and show him what they could really do. In the end, every Human was taken out, and the Jorval had lost only three members, though all of which fell victim to the final holdout against just four Humans.

When it was time to swap home bases for the next match, before Brandon could start elaborating on his new tactics, Yarvut surprised everyone by huddling everyone together for a tactical discussion himself. From his position early on he was left with nothing else to do but carefully and calmly observe how the Jorval moved, where they focused their sights on, how close they tend to stick to each other, and other minor details which Brandon was deeply impressed by. Using this newfound perspective and knowledge, Brandon came up with a far more refined strategy for both offense and defense.

Seemingly bolstered by the humiliating defeat, the rest of them were also more motivated, and the entire Human team now gave off, what the neutral observers of the games described as, a different aura. Like something had flipped, that turned this group of people they knew and worked with and respected and generally liked, into something menacing, a focused machine almost. The look in their eyes through the visors sent shivers down most everyones spines or equivalents whenever a camera operator decided to do a zoom in.

Upon the start signal, the Humans split into five squads, one pair on defense duty, one four person team on patrol around the immediate vicinity, and three squads of three on offense, taking the longest route all around the edge of the sphere going for a three-sided ambush of the Jorval's home turf. It was amazing to see how much smoother and more coordinated each Human moved now, when before it was the first time most of them were expected to maneuver in zero-g using suits they had never worn before. You could literally see them adapting and intuitively getting a better by the minute at handling the booster-based movement, and navigating and keeping tabs on all three dimensions. Some were better at it than others, but even the most clumsy of the Humans was still visibly more comfortable now than thirty minutes ago.

The patrol squad had a quick skirmish with a Jorval scout, paralyzing his legs before he made a rapid retreat and taking no wounds themselves. Then a minute of silence, interrupted by a burst of activity coming from the Jorval base, then another minute of silence.

Yarvut was the only of the attack squad members to return, his left arm paralyzed, but he rushed past the defense members to plant the enemy flag in their base and take the win. It was now 1-1.

Another huddle, nobody even needed to call for it, now everyone on the Human team had fully switched to "hunter mode", as a Human audience member called it.

The third and deciding match wasn't even close. Once again, five squads, but this time three each and all in attack formation. They did not give the Jorval even time to fully disperse before the Humans came barreling through the obstacles just thirty seconds after the start signal. Shock and awe - every Jorval was taken out in the next twenty seconds, no Human losses.

Combining what everyone conveyed about their opponents from the second match with Yarvut's keen observations from the first, Brandon figured the Jorval were behaving in a standardized and heavily drilled pattern and would likely repeat it for the third, perhaps with minor alterations expecting another three-way ambush or some other sneaky and delayed attack. Their scout had also not arrived all that fast, so they must have trained to be very methodical in their approach. Brandon also employed a methodical defense the first time, then a coordinated precision strike, so, naturally, it was time for a sledgehammer approach.

And it worked beautifully, completely catching everyone off guard, even the audience. Blink and you missed the entire action. Everyone knows Humans can be reckless and even downright crazy, but to witness them going full "hunter mode" was a first for practically all observers. And this was just some office workers and an elderly former low ranking soldier. What kind of monsters were their actual well trained and fully geared up soldiers then?

_______________________

I really want to limit how much I describe the sentient aliens as they are not the focus of these stories, but it would be awkward to keep saying "those bipedal aliens", so a compromise this time. How they look beyond bipedal I'll leave entirely to your imagination.

[peaceteaa11]

Little Green Dress

Oneshot - Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (Y/N)

Ratings: Mostly clean, suggestive comments and actions throughout.

Warnings: Bullying, strong language, harassment, sadness and self doubt. Let me know if I missed something.

Summary: You are nervous, but for a good reason. Hanging out with Eddie's friends is scary considering how different you look from them all. Not to mention they don't seem to like you all that much, hopefully you can change their minds this time. Of course now there is a new factor involved... Eddie's Ex will be in attendance tonight.

A/N: I wrote this at 3am because sleep will not stop me from thinking about our beloved Eddie. Here is a quick oneshot while I work on finishing up Love Luna and My Rockstar. NOT PROOFREAD

Word Count: not sure atm

***Go check out my other Eddie fics! Eddie Munson Masterlist***

You are perfect just the way you are.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

You couldn’t help but be nervous to be hanging out with Eddie’s friend group again. They all were very intimating even when they didn’t mean to be. You stuck out like a sore thumb when you hung out with them. Dressed in floral patterns, flowy sundresses, and pastels all the time whereas they all dressed like Eddie. Leather, metal, and ripped up jeans. Of course they all looked good doing it too.

You felt their judgements the first time you met them. Why would Eddie pick you of all people to date. You two looked like something out of a romcom that Steve would force you to watch when y’all were younger. Your brother was always the more sensitive one even though you looked to be the obvious answer.

You look on the mirror. Your green sundress flowing around your thighs as you twist and twirl. You love this dress but you question if it’s right for a night out with Eddie and his friends. But the outfit struggle wasn’t even the worst part of this all.

Eddie’s ex was tagging along tonight as well. Her name is Gemma. You haven’t met her before but Eddie promises she’s sweet but that doesn’t stop the worrying and honestly… jealousy from building up in your stomach. Gareth invited her.

You got the feeling that Gareth didn’t like you that much the last time you saw him. He was standoffish and a bit mean. You tried to smile through it for Eddie but honestly you couldn’t understand what you were doing wrong. Tonight you hoped you could break through to him and become friendly at least but him inviting Eddie’s ex girlfriend makes you think he’s not up for that.

Eddie was a bit peeved when he found out Gareth invited her but you could tell it was only because he saw the look on your face when he told you. Your face turned pale and you looked as if you were going to have a panic attack. Eddie assured you there was nothing to worry about.

But as you stare yourself down in the mirror holding up another dress to your body you felt yourself beginning to do just that. Panic. What if she was still in love with Eddie. He was the one who broke up with her after all. He wasn’t too specific as to why but still.

Your eyes flash between the green dress you have on and the blue dress in your hand. Light blue with a shimmer to it when it moved. You decide to change.

Once in the blue dress you smile. The soft shimmer maybe you feel more elegant than before. It was nice. God. You looked in the mirror again. All ready to go. Makeup done. Hair done, curls bouncing against your shoulders. Dress done. You grab a pair of heeled sandals and you sigh.

Here goes nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie pulls up to your house and hops out of his van you rush out the front door. You close the door behind you and just as it latches and you smile at Eddie your brothers voice scares you.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Steve’s voice is laced with worry. You turn to see him sitting on the banister to the porch drinking a soda.

“It’ll be fine.” You smile at him. You had made the mistake of confiding too much in your brother many times and this was one of those times.

“Call me if you need me.” He hums softly. You nod in response and skip down the stairs to your boyfriend who has opened the passenger side door for you.

Eddie had in ripped black jeans, his regular white Reeboks, and a loose fitting Dio shirt on. His shirt is worn and light under his black leather jacket and usual denim vest. His patches growing in number everyday it seems.

“Hi baby bat.” He smiles as he pulls you into a hug.

“Hi.” You giggle. You pull back and Eddie whistles lowly.

“Have I ever mentioned I love this dress.” He scans your figure and lets his hand slide down to your hips.

“Eddie. I’ve only worn this dress once before.” You giggle and he squeezes your hips.

“Yes. And I fell in love with it.” He hums and leans in to kiss you until your brother shouts.

“No!” Steve growls and Eddie glances over your shoulder to see you brother, hands on his hips, glaring at the two do you.

“Steve!” You shout turning around to look at him with wide eyes.

Eddie leans down into you and smiles against your ear. “Maybe we should get going. I want a kiss.” He whispers softly. You giggle and nod.

“You keep her safe Munson!” Steve shouts as Eddie helps you into the van and shuts the door.

“Don’t I always?” He smirks and hops in the van himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the two of you pull up to the Hideout Eddie immediately throws the car in park and grabs your hand.

“Finally.” He chuckles and tugs you closer across the center console. You giggle as he presses his lips to yours and smiles into the kiss.

When you pull apart Eddie hums and shakes his head slightly. He licks his lips and grins. “Ready?”

You nod despite the fact that you are so not ready. You look down at your pastel blue shimmering dress and for some reason regret it. This group of people really knew how to make you rethink everything at least ten times over.

Eddie rounds the van and helps you out. The two of you start to walk and you quickly grab onto the sleeve of his leather jacket for comfort. He chuckles and pulls you into his side. He looks down at you and smiles his stunningly sweet smile as always.

“Don’t be nervous.” He kisses your temple and leads the way in. God. That’s easier said than done when you looked like a pastry compared to him. “Oh there they are!” He shifts his arm from around you and quickly grabs your hand instead.

The bar is rather packed tonight considering the fact that it’s a Saturday. The busiest day for the hideout.

You bite you lip as Eddie leads you up to his friends. Gareth stands there with Jeff, both laughing. Jeff seemed to be the nicer of the two. The only one who seemed to like you last time. Dawn and Crystal both frown when they see you but quickly smile when their eyes fall on Eddie.

“Eddie is here!” Dawn smiles brightly. Gareth looks up and you can see him sigh. Jeff is the only one who smiles at you. He grins and gives you a smile wave to which you eagerly return.

Once in front of all of them you can’t help but slink into Eddie’s side. Gareth swigs his beer while rolling his eyes and Jeff quickly elbows him.

“Hey guys.” Eddie moves from you and you find yourself standing awkwardly hands at your side. Eddie hugs the girls and before fist bumping the guys. He moves to stand back at your side to which you welcome. You wraps his arm around your shoulder and you take this moment to hide from Dawns bright blue eyes.

“Cute dress.” She hums. Nodding to you slightly. Her comment makes Gareth chuckle and you can’t help but feel like you’re the butt of a joke here.

“Thanks.” You say softly.

“Gemma should be here soon.” Gareth grins widely at Eddie and wiggles his brows. You almost wonder if your missing something. Jeff rolls his eyes and looks at you with a sad smile.

“Cool.” Eddie hums.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Crystal smirks looking over your shoulder. You and Eddie turn to look and your eyes nearly drop from your skull.

In front of you is a tall girl with a bright smile walking towards you guys. Her long black hair is straight and falls smoothly over her shoulders. Her top is a tight green tank top with rips all about and she’s wearing a tight little black leather skirt to go with. When you finally get to her shoes you see tall black strappy heels.

She looks like a model. A rockstar’s girlfriend.

When she finally reaches you she immediately holds out her arms and smiles.

“Hi Eds.” She hums and wraps her arms around him causing him to let you go and quickly wrap his around around her waist. They squeeze each other tightly and when she pulls back you don’t miss her glancing at his lips.

You feel like vomiting. You feel so small and insignificant around her. Not only was she tall and gorgeous, her and Eddie looked like the picture perfect metal couple.

Her eyes shift to you and she grins. “Cute dress.” She hums and extends her hand. “I’m Gemma. You must be?”

You freeze when her hand touches yours. She has the smoothest skin. “Y/n.” You squeak.

“Cute.” She hums again. She then passes you and begins to hug the others.

Soon enough all of you are standing in a circle chatting. Well they are all chatting. You are standing quietly beside Eddie gripping his jacket sleeve.

When Gemma laughs it’s angelic you think to yourself as you watch Eddie watch her.

“So Eds.” Gemma smirks at him. “How have you been. Babe.” She punctuates the last word and you quickly look away from the two of them. You glance around the bar behind you before looking back, eyes landing on Jeff who is watching you. You smile softly and he returns the favor before taking another swig of beer.

“I’ve been good. What about you?” He smiles at her and you feel your stomach turn. This was a bad idea. Your brother was right. You should’ve just stayed home and watched shitty romance movies with him. You would much rather wonder how Eddie was acting around his ex rather than see it in full swing.

“Lonely. I’ve missed seeing you…” her eyes flick to you and then back to Eddie. “All of you of course.”

“You should come around more often.” Gareth cuts in quickly.

“I think I might just.” Gemma hums. As she twirls her hair around her finger.

“We’d all love that!” Dawn grins brightly.

“Yea!” Crystal giggles and spits her drink.

“How about you Eds, babe.” Gemma smirks at him and her eyes narrow. She points at him with her long sharp nail. “Do you miss having me around.”

You can’t help but glance down at you nails. Short and honestly a bit dirty from gardening earlier. You garden when you have to much on your mind and honestly. You wish you were gardening now.

“Sure I do Gem.” Eddie’s voice is gentle and sweet with her. And you don’t miss the nickname. God you feel sickly and invisible.

“Y/n.” Jeff says softly to get your attention. You look at him, ripping your eyes away from Eddie and Gemma. As they stare at each other, standing directly across from one another.

“Hm?” Jeff, who stands across from you smiles as you hum in response.

“You okay? You look… pale.” Jeff’s words seem to catch Eddie’s attention as you looks down at you for the first time in a while.

“Baby? You okay?” He hums and places his hand on your cheek.

You nod. “I’m good. Just thirsty I think. I’ll go get myself a drink.”

“I’ll come with you.” He hums.

“Get me my usual won’t you Eds?” Gemma smiles at him, batting her eyes. You felt a bit angry at this but more than anything. You felt sick.

“Sure Gem.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Eddie wait at the bar for the drinks as you watch the hideout patrons busy dancing and laughing. From here you can’t see Eddie’s friends and honestly. It sends a wave of relief over you.

“Baby.” Eddie’s voice breaks you from your staring. You look up at him and he smiles at you. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“I don’t think your friends like me very much.” You force a small laugh but Eddie’s face shifts from smiley to serious.

“Sure they do. What’s not to like about you.” He grabs your face with both his hands and presses his lips firmly to yours. You melt into him a bit until he pulls back. “You just gotta jump in okay? Speak up and they’ll love you! Just like I do.” You raise your brow at this and he chuckles. “Okay maybe not just like I do.” He smirks as his hands slide down your body and quickly find your ass.

He pulls you into his body and hums to himself slightly before meeting your gaze with big brown eyes filled with lust. “If we were alone. I’d wreck you. In this pretty pastel dress.” He smirks causing you to blush deeply.

You shove your face into his chest and shake your head. “Eddie!” You giggle into him and he chuckles back.

“Gimme a kiss.” He says quickly. You pull back without hesitation and lean up onto your tiptoes. He squeezes your ass tightly as your lips meet and then pulls back. “I gotta use the bathroom. Will you take the drinks back to the group?”

“You…” you want to say… ‘you want me to take this back and hangout with your friends alone?!’ But instead you stop yourself and smile. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

“Baby bat. Don’t be nervous. You’re too lovable for any of them to hate you.” He quickly kisses your cheek and heads off into the back of the bar.

You grab your water and chug it down before grabbing Eddie and Gemma’s beers which you don’t miss the fact that they are the same. You start to head back over and just as they come into view again a guy accidentally cuts you off. You don’t mind as you try to slip past him while he talks with a friends.

As you try to weave your way back to them you half when you hear Gareth’s voice. “I told you she was freaky.” He chuckles and you hear laughter from several others.

“What is she wearing by the way?” Gemma’s smooth voice breaks through the music.

“Oh! She always dresses like that!” Crystals voice this time.

“She looks like a wannabe Barbie.” Gemma laughs cause the others to join.

“Oh and she is always clinging to Eddie like a lost puppy. It’s annoying!” Gareth slurs his way through the sentence. Then you hear Jeff cut in.

“Hey. She’s just different from us.” He adds in and you feel a bit protected but it doesn’t stop the others.

“I can’t believe Eddie actually likes her. I mean she’s not exactly his type.” Gemma scoffs.

“Yea! When they first started dating I literally laughed in his face I couldn’t believe it. She’s like a child to be honest. Always dressed like a doll.” Gareth jabs. More laughter erupts. You feel the tears pricking your eyes.

“We’ll. It’s still early in the relationship. He has time to change his mind.” Crystal says.

“Yea. To make the right decision.” Dawn giggles.

“I just don’t see what he sees in her.” Gemma says harshly. “I mean. We were much more compatible than whatever the fuck she is. I mean. She’s literally a pint sized, pastel covered nightmare.”

“Well. Eddie was totally flirting with you tonight. I think the old spark was coming back to him.” Crystal giggles like a schoolyard girl.

“Yea. I noticed that. Honestly. Do you guys think if I gave him the option he’d actually choose her. I don’t think so.” Gemma says cockily.

“Honestly. That was my plan. Get you here to knock some sense back into Eddie. Cause there is no way I can handle being around her much longer.” Gareth groans.

“What? Why would you do that?” Jeff asks sharply.

“Because she’s annoying Jeff.”

“She never says anything to us. She’s nothing but nice. I don’t understand y’all. Plus Eddie seems to actually like her why would you wanna ruin that.”

“Oh please Jeff. He only likes her cause Gemma was out of the picture.” Crystal cuts in.

“Ya think? I honestly can’t with how sexy he looks tonight.” Gemma practically moans as she finishes her sentence.

“Bottom line is. Y/n is annoying. And she’s got to go.” Gareth hums casually.

Just then the guy and his friend decide to head to the bar and you are there staring at the group. You blink back your tears as their eyes land on you. Gareth shrinks back when he sees you. His eyes going wide. Jeff frown at you with sad eyes and Gemma and the girls all try to hide their giggles.

You quickly walk over to them and smile but you know it probably looks sad.

“Eddie is in the bathroom but wanted you to get you drink. So here ya go.” You smile at Gemma having to tilt your head up slightly.

Gemma takes the drink from your hand and smiles. “Thanks.” She immediately takes a swig. “You drink as well?” She questions.

You nod but shrug “Yeah but not tonight. This is Eddie’s.” You look down to the floor briefly.

“Mmm so he still gets my usual. How sweet.” Gemma hums. You look up and her eyes are still on you. Everyone’s eyes are on you. The only one who seems nervous that you heard though seems to be Gareth.

“Yeah sweet.” You force a smile. “Actually could you hold this for him. I’m gonna go make a call.” You hand her his drink and she grins like an animal.

“Sure.”

“Who are you calling?” Jeff asks quickly. His eyes scanning you with what seems like worry.

“My brother.” You frown and turn away.

“Awe cute.” Gemma giggles.

As you rush away back towards the bar and phone you hear Gemma laugh loudly. “You think she heard us?”

~~~~~~~~~

“Steve you were right.” You sob into the phone finally letting the tears streak down your cheeks.

“What happened?!” Steve says into the phone and you can heard him grabbing his car keys already. And you are beyond thankful.

“Please just come get me.”

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Stand out front. I’ll be there in five.”

The hideout was ten minutes away but you knew your brother would be here in five just like he said. You hang up the phone and sniffle before pushing your way to the front door.

As you step out into the cool night air and shivered a bit. You rub your hands up and down your arms praying Steve would get there quicker.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder and you spin around. You half expect to be met with Eddie’s worried brown eyes but instead you are met with a random stranger.

“Whatcha doing out here s’all lone?” The man slurs.

You shrug his hand off your shoulder and step back.

“Waiting on my brother.” You say flatly.

“Why don’t you come back in and let me buy you a drink, pretty thing.” He reaches out for you again but stumble back once more.

“No thanks. Please. Just leave me alone.” You practically beg but it seems to only upset the man.

He grabs you by your shoulders and squeezes you.

“No need to be a bitch.” He spits and you turn your face away from him. “Just come inside with me. Or bet yet my car is over there.”

“No I don’t want to!” You feel you heart beat pick up and you try to yank free but only manage to get away enough for him to grab both of your wrists.

His grip is so tight you know they will be sore if not bruise by tomorrow. “Please let me go.” You practically cry out as he starts to tug you towards his car. You hear a car pull into the lot and you yank yourself back from the man against but he still doesn’t release your wrist.

“Let go of me!” You scream out and you hear a car door slam.

“HEY!” The sound of your brothers voice echoes across the parking lot. You hear gravel beneath his feet and just as he approaches you she the hideout doors open from behind the man and you see Eddie with all his friends behind him.

Eddie’s eyes widen and you can see him start to move into action but your brother beats him to it. Taking a baseball bat to the man’s back.

“Get the fuck away from her.” The man immediately lets you go and you practically fall back into Steve’s arms.

Steve squeezes you into his chest and points the bat at the man who is now sprawled out in the gravel lot.

“You ever touch my sister again and I’ll beat your face in.” Then Steve quickly points the bat at Eddie. “And where were you?! Fucker!” Steve let’s you go and moves towards Eddie whose eyes are fixated on you.

“Baby! Are you okay?” His voice is strained and his face looks as if he is in physical pain.

“She’s good! No thanks to you or your asshole friends. You stay the fuck away from her, Munson.” Steve walks closer to Eddie making him rip his eyes away from you and focus on him.

“Steve I-“

“You stay away from us. Don’t you ever even think-“

“Steve stop!” You shout as you stomp over to him. You rip the bat from his hand and swing it over your shoulder. “Let’s just go.”

“Y/n” Eddie’s voice pleads from behind you. You whip around to meet his eyes but you can help but notice all his friends staring at you too.

You turn back to your brother and shove the bat into his chest. “I just wanna go home.” You huff. Anger about the whole night begins to set in. Steve glares at Eddie and then looks to you.

“You said you would keep her safe.” Steve says simply. “I trusted you.” He huffs and grabs your arms gently and starts leading you to the car that is still on and sitting in the center of the lot.

“Y/n wait please!” You hear Eddie from behind you and it seems like he’s about to follow you until you hear Gemma’s voice.

“Just wait Eds. Let them go.”

And he does. He lets you go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were right about your wrists. They are bruised pretty bad as you slide your garden gloves on.

After you got home Steve demanded to know what happened. After your telling of the night Steve was a little less mad at Eddie and more mad at his friends but he still wouldn’t let go of the fact that he trusted Eddie to keep you safe and he failed.

In your eyes Eddie didn’t fail. You were the one who left. And without telling Eddie. Which Steve scolded you for. But he couldn’t really be mad when you started crying about how mean his friends were and how beautiful Gemma was.

You slide open the back door and begin to step out until you hear Steve walk into the room.

“How you feeling?” He asks.

You turn to face him and sigh. “I miss Eddie.” You admit. Maybe Gareth was right. Maybe you’re annoyingly clingy. Because all you wanted right now was to curl up in Eddie’s lap and stroke his hair. You missed him even though it’s only the next morning.

“Y/n. I’m sorry I snapped last night. I know he wasn’t really… the problem. But… if he shows up here I’m punching him in his nose.” Steve crosses his arms and you giggle. Your brother is protective but there is no way he’s going to punch your boyfriend.

If Eddie even still wants to be your boyfriend. After the scene you caused last night you’re sure his friends have talked him out of it. If anything you’re sure he’ll show up just to break up.

“Okay Steve. Whatever you say.”

“You going to the garden?” He asks softly and you simply nod. “Want some company?”

You shake your head and turn to head outside. “I just wanna be alone right now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

About an hour passes of you crying into the soil of your lilies. You can’t help but let the tears roll down your face. Replaying the night over and over again. Wondering if there was something you did to encourage them to talk that way about you. Maybe they were right. You were just a pastel nightmare. An annoying girlfriend. Why would Eddie chose you when someone like Gemma wants him?

You sigh as you weakly pull at a weed. And pull and pull and pull. So weakly it barely moves from the soil. You cry harder.

You look down at yourself. Jeans covered in dirt at the knees. Dirty old shirt hanging loosely around your frame. Your hair in a ponytail. You were a mess. Gemma probably never looked like such a mess. God. There is not a doubt in your mind that Eddie is going to end up choosing her but damn if it doesn’t break your heart.

You sniffle as you tug at the weed once more. Still no movement.

“You’re probably gonna have to pull harder than that, baby.” Eddie’s sweet voice makes you jump. You quickly wipe your puffy eyes with your sleeves and turn to face him. You stay huddled in the dirt on your knees as you look up at him. The sun beating down on his back.

He stands before you in jeans and a loose shirt and smiles down at you until his eyes settle on yours. He frowns deeply. “Baby. How much have you been crying?!” He drops to his knees in front of you and grabs your face causing you to shift and turn your whole body towards him. “Baby.” He coos as he runs his calloused thumbs over your puffy cheeks.

“Sorry.” You sniffle and pull your gloves off to wipe your eyes. As you do Eddie gently grabs your arms and pulls your hands down in front of him.

You watch as his teeth grit and jaw clench while he softly rubs the bruises on your wrists. “Do they hurt?” He says continuing to stare at them.

“No.” You rush to answer. He glances up to you and squints.

“My love.” He says lowly.

“A little.” You frown. And he sighs.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers his voice breaking as he does.

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left without telling you.”

“I should’ve been there.” He huffs as he rubs your wrist again and you see his knuckles all black and blue.

“Eddie what happened?!” You shift and it’s your turn to grab his hands. You frown and look up into his eyes. His brown eyes narrow and he grimaces. “Eddie.”

“Steve only got in one good hit. I did the rest of the work that’s all.” He says this so calmly you almost feel as if you shouldn’t be worried. But you are.

“What?! Why would you do that?!” You stare into his eyes and he chuckles.

“Baby bat. He can’t just do this to you and get away with it. I had to beat his teeth in.”

“Eddie!” You gasp and he smiles at you. “You didn’t hurt him too badly did you?” His grin grows when you say this.

“Only you would be worried about your attacker.” Eddie shakes his head causing his curls to fall around his shoulders.

“I’m not worried about him! I’m worried about you. You could’ve gotten hurt or ended up in jail!” You watch as his face falls and he blushes. “You ended up in jail?!” You groan and he chuckles.

“It was only overnight. Hopper let me go once I told him what happened.”

“Eddie.” You practically whine and before you can say anything Eddie leans in and kisses you softly. You lean into him until you hear him whine a bit. You pull back and stare at him. “You okay?”

“Uh yea… it’s just my nose. Your brother got in a good one.” Eddie’s sentence makes your jaw drop.

“He actually hit you?!” You grab his face and scan it intensely causing his cheeks to squish in a bit.

“Yesh.” He says. His lips puckered and squished. You let go of his face and pull back. “I deserved it. Plus it was only one punch. I don’t think he broke anything.” Eddie shrugs.

“Eds I’m so-“ you stop. Eds. It feels tainted now.

“Hey what just happened?” He grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest. “Where did you just go.”

You shake your head and shrug pulling your hand back. And suddenly you realize your hand is on his knee as well. You pull that back too. You are too clingy.

“Hey hey hey. What’s going on baby bat?” He searches your face as you try to avoid eye contact.

“Nothing. I just… it’s nothing.”

“Look at me.” He says gently. “Please.”

You look up and immediately are met with his gentle brown doe eyes.

“Jeff told me everything that happened. Said you probably heard most of it if not all of it.” Eddie frowns as he grabs you hand once more. He brings it to his lips and gently kisses your knuckles. “No matter what you heard. It’s not true.”

You shake your head a bit. “That’s the thing though. It is.” You go to drop you head but Eddie takes his other hand and grabs your chin.

“It’s not. You are far from a nightmare.” He grabs at your waist now with both hands and pulls you into his lap. He shifts so he is crisscrossed and you are straddling his hips. “You are not annoying. You are not any of the things those assholes said. Besides pint sized.” He jokes and you can’t help but smile.

His thumbs dip under your shirt and rub circles into your hips as he continues to talk.

“And most importantly. I do not want anyone besides you. All the scheming in the world would not make me want to leave you. Gemma is a ghost of the past. And now you can see why I left her there.” He stares into your eyes and continues to rub your skin.

“Oh yes. Her overwhelming beauty, style, and commonality with you. Yes. Makes sense.” You sigh and go to look away but Eddie captures your lips with his. He smiles when you start to kiss him back and then he quickly pulls back. Giving you one more peck before continuing.

“You are everything she is not. You are kind. Caring. Gentle. Beautiful. Loving. And most importantly you are nothing like me.” He grins and you shake your head a bit.

“I wanna be like you.” You frown. And all he can do is chuckle.

“My love, I wanna be like you.” His gentle smile is contagious and your lips tug up into a grin as well.

“She likes you.” You whisper.

“I love you.” He whispers back. Your eyes widen as you stare at him. Searching his face for a joke or hint of one. He stays serious which he doesn’t often do.

“You what?” You quickly place your hands on his shoulders as if to stabilize yourself.

“I love you. Only a few months in and I’m head over heels in love with you my baby bat. I don’t want anyone but you. I go to bed and think of you. I dream of you. Then I wake up and think of you again. My every moment is consumed by thoughts of you and your smile, your laugh, your eyes, your kindness, your everything. I don’t care what any of those fucks think of you or me or us. It’s our relationship. You’re my baby. No one needs to understand us but us. Sure. You’re bubbly and kind and covered in flowers and dirt most of the time while I’m sweaty and standoffish and covered in leather and metal but that’s us. And I love us. I love you. I’m so in love with you it hurts. It hurts to be away from you. It hurts to see you cry. It hurts to know I let you get hurt. I’m so stupidly and happily in love it drives me fucking wild. I just can’t get enough of you ever. I love when you cling to my jacket and hide in my side. I love when you whisper to me when you’re nervous. I love when you-“

You smash your lips into his causing him to lean back a bit. You wrap your hands up in his hair and tug gently as his hands travel up and down your back pulling you in as close as he can get you. You kiss him until you’re both out of breath and his eyes are blown out black circles. When you pull back you stare at him with flushed cheeks and smile.

“I’m in love with you too.” You smile as you nudge your nose against his forgetting momentarily about your brothers punch until Eddie hisses softly. You pull back and grab his face. “Oh! I’m sorry!” You cry out and he chuckles.

“Come back here.” He whines and pulls your face back to his. Foreheads touching and he closes his eyes.

As you sit here all your worries wash away. Eddie loves you. He’s in love with you. That’s all you want. That’s all you need.

Eddie’s hands gently run up and down your back and he hums softly.

“They said I dress like a doll.” You sigh. “Is that true?” You wonder. Not really offended anymore. Not now that you had Eddie wrapped around you. More just curious.

Eddie pulls back gently and scans you. “You aren’t dressed like a doll now.” He points out but you squint. You gasp and point at his face.

“You think I dress like I doll!”

“Not all the time!!” He whines and quickly covers your face in kisses. You giggle until he settle his head on your shoulder. Hiding his face away in your neck. His warm breath fanning your skin sending shivers down your spine.

Suddenly Eddie licks a strip up your neck till he reaches your ear. He nibbles at your ear and sighs softly and you tighten your hands in his hair.

“Besides. I like when you dress like a doll if it means you wear that sexy little dress of yours.” He practically moans in your ear and you can’t help but sigh into him. “In fact I love all your little dresses. Especially that little green number you got.” He gently kisses your neck before nipping at your skin. You let out a soft moan and he grins against your skin.

You both sit there for a moment as Eddie lays soft kisses along your neck.

“Why don’t we go inside and I’ll slip into that green dress.” You whisper shyly and Eddie snaps up. You giggle when he scans your face and smirks.

“Awe. You wanna put it on just for me to take it off again? Hmm.” He leans and pecks your lips softly. “Seems time consuming but I’ll be damned if I don’t wanna see you put it on.”

“Come on. You know your favorite part is taking them off. Im being generous.” You smirk.

“God I love you like this. Let’s go!”

Eddie helps you off his lap and jumps to his feet. He grabs your hand and the two of you stumble over each other to get inside. Wandering past Steve, giggling at each other and rushing up the stairs to your bedroom.

As Eddie basically slams the door shut you pick the green dress up off the floor and disappear into your closet. Quickly you change and when you come back out into the room Eddie is sitting on your bed with a soft smile on his face.

When he sees you his face falls and his eyes widen. "Damnit. Okay." He huffs mostly to himself as he sits up a bit straighter on your bed.

"What?" You giggle as you twirl around in front of him. You can barely finish the turn before Eddie grabs your hips and pulls you closer. Now you stand between his legs and he stares up at you with a shit eating grin plastered across his lips.

"You're too beautiful. I can't think." He groans and throws his head back causing you to laugh loudly.

"I was actually gonna wear this last night but got too nervous." You hum gently as your hands find his chest and gently run up and down his shirt.

He snaps his head up and gapes at you. "Are you kidding me?!" He shakes his head and leans into your stomach for a moment before pulling back to look into your eyes once more. "Actually it's probably good you didn't wear this cause... we would've both been in that bathroom."

His smirk provokes a giggle from you. he grabs your hips and squeezes them before planting a kiss on the side of your ribs.

"Wanna skip to your favorite part? Taking this thing off." You smirk causing his eyes to meet yours and he smirks.

"Fuck yes." He moans out as he quickly moves you both. He tosses you back onto your bed and you giggle up at him as he crawls over you. Running his hand up the side of your thigh. "On Second thought... let's keep it on." He smirks.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

That's all folks. Let me know what you think about this! Hope you all enjoyed the angsty romance.

Peace and Love, Babes.

Taglist - @iwillbiteabitch @and-claudia @ruinedbythehobbit @luvmybbies @wannabeyousobad @llodinsonlll @tlclick73 @i-love-ptv-vic @mischiefmanagers @tvserie-s-world @magnificantmermaid @brieho3 @saramelaniemoon @sidthedollface2 @saayanaaa @mylovelycrazyworld

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Three

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Three Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3173 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Spencer stared hard at the map of Manhattan that was pinned to the board, eyes flickering between each location the bodies were found at. He'd circled them, hoping to visualise some sort of map or pattern between the kill spots, but nothing emerged to his despair.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. The team had gone to their hotel soon after his outburst at Holt, but he'd been back in since around six o'clock. He checked his wristwatch. Quarter-to-eight it read.

'You're in early.'

Spencer swivelled around at the sound of Hotch entering the room, the rest of team following closely behind. JJ held two coffees in hand, walking around the big table in the middle of the room to hand one to him. He didnt know how JJ knew he needed the caffeine, but he smiled gratefully nonetheless and took the hot brew from her hands.

'Yeah,' he said after a deep sip, scrunching his nose slightly at the slight bitter taste he detected. It was sweet, but not sweet enough. 'I... couldn't sleep.'

How could he, when his whole world had been turned upside down in the span of a couple of hours? You were risking your life - had been for eleven months already. He wanted this case to be over, and sleeping in his uncomfortable hotel bed while you were constantly looking over your shoulder was not going to help make that happen.

The way his friends looked at him now only confirmed that he looked a little worse for wear. But before anyone could comment, Hotch intervened.

'Where are we on the unsub's comfort zone, Reid?' Hotch asked, looking at the map over Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer was grateful for the change in topic, and turned around to point at the map with one hand, the other still cradling his coffee. 'I marked out where each body was found in relation to their establishment,' he explained, pointing at each marked spot for emphasis. 'Unfortunately, they range from up to downtown, even the Upper Eastside to SoHo. Geography doesn't seem to be a factor in the killings. What does seem to be a factor, however, is that all the other girls, like Roxy, were killed either outside or not far from where they worked.'

'That could speak to the unsub wanting to deliver a message,' JJ suggested. 'If the unsub is someone who has been double-crossed by these girls or the establishments, maybe their deaths are a warning.'

'Penelope said she couldn't find anything on these girls prior to their employment,' Kate said, reading a text off her phone no doubt from the technical analyst herself. 'Y/N's intel was correct. These girls were like ghosts, but like, before they had a life.'

'They had to have come from somewhere,' Rossi said. 'They couldn't have just... invented these girls.'

'No...' Derek trailed off, hand reaching for his jean pocket. '...but they can be reinvented.'

'What do you mean?' JJ asked, but Spencer's brain worked faster than Derek's mouth.

'From the initial notes from each body find, we know all girls were quite loyal and involved with the establishment's business,' Spencer answered, feeling reinvigorated suddenly. Or maybe that was just the coffee. 'They would've had to have been isolated for a few years prior to their re-emergence back into society to be that conditioned to their owner's orders.'

'Most of these girls were around seventeen and eighteen when they started working,' Kate said. 'That's when girls usually establish their independence from families.'

'But these girls have stayed as they've entered their twenties,' Hotch noted.

'Which means they would've been taken away from society before they could figure out how to be independent.' Derek's finger pressed a speed dial button - the first person on Derek Morgan's list for all things knowledgeable.

'Greetings my love,' Penelope greeted, her perkiness like another shot of espresso in Spencer's system. 'Did you see my good morning text with all my notes - and by all of them, I mean nothing - on the girls' history? Sent with love.'

'We did, baby girl,' he answered. 'But we might have a new lead to go on and we need your help.'

'You've rubbed the lamp, and as the genie I am now at your command. What do you need to know?'

'See if you can find any missing child records from over the last decade, particularly girls,' Derek said.

'They might not be made by parents, per say,' Spencer quickly added. 'The seller is choosing girls he knows people won't look too hard for. They'll be low-risk victims, so look up any mysterious disappearances from homeless communities and even unofficial orphanages and shelters in the New York state.'

'Boy Wonder, you certainly live up to your name,' Penelope quipped, the soft pattering of her frantic typing filling the room for a moment before she stopped. 'Aha! There have been over fifty girls who've gone missing over the past decade that fit those perimeters. I almost missed some of them because they weren't officially reported, but they popped up in local newspaper adverts noting certain kids in their community had been missing for a while. I've just sent a list of places they all went missing from to your phones.'

Another flurry of fingers flying over her keyboard and she spoke again. 'And if you look at your tablets, you will find the picture a young girl, aged twelve, gone missing from a trip to an aquarium with her orphanage. A Missy Wright. She had a record for running away and hiding, so when she wasn't found after twenty four hours, police disbanded the search party and declared her a runaway. But does she look familiar at all to you?'

Spencer looked over JJ's shoulder as she looked at her own tablet, seeing the similarities before anyone else did. 'That's Roxy Vega,' he said.

'I'm running out of gold stars to give you, Boy Wonder,' Penelope quipped. 'I'll try and find more pictures of the dead girls and match them with any of the missing girls on my list.'

'Thank you mama, you're best,' Derek said.

'I know, sugar,' Penelope replied before ending the call promptly.

'Let's go talk to those establishments, particularly Roxy's old orphanage,' Hotch announced. 'Let's cover as many as we can by splitting up. Spencer and JJ, Derek and Kate, and Dave you're with me.'

Kate squinted at her phone, eyebrows furrowing in distress. 'There are over thirty addresses here. And they're spread all over the New York state. This could take days.'

'I'll get local police as well as Holt's team to help,' Hotch replied. 'We find out who these girls were before they were abducted, we find out how the unsub finds them.'

'Then we can find him,' Rossi added with an assertive nod. 'All right then, let's get going. We're burning daylight.'

Spencer downed the rest of his coffee then grabbed his satchel and suit jacket and scrambled after his team. Before he left, he turned back to the board, to the marked map and the pictures of the managers and the mutilated girls. Girls who died as different people to who they were born as.

We will find you, he silently vowed, and followed his team out the door.

~~~

The pounding music of the Pit replicated the consistent thuds in your head as you walked your way around the floor.

Three glasses of single malt whiskey balanced precariously on your tray as you made your way through the crowd of gentlemen and girls enjoying themselves. It was a fine art, one you had perfected over the eleven months you'd been undercover.

You tried not to crinkle your nose in disgust as you passed by a certain lecherous man getting handsy with one of the girls, Lavender.

She was younger than you, a pretty little thing who started around the same time as you did. You'd come to the assumption she was also one of the girls who'd been taken as a a child and reinvented, as she always dodged any questions you asked about her life before... working.

And maybe she just didn't know the answers or she just really valued her privacy as a girl in her late teens did. But the way she would always always redirect the subject or blatantly not answer didn't sit right with you.

Lavender's eyes met yours briefly, and you saw the defeat and disgust she felt as she let the man's hands grip her curvaceous hips. It was a silent cry for help - you'd seen the same look in the other girls' eyes before. Not just at the Chateau, either. At all the establishments you'd wheedled your way into.

You wanted nothing more than to slug the bastard who had to be forty years Lavender's senior, and shame him for defacing an innocent like her. For going behind his wife's back because God forbid she age like human beings do. You saw the ring tan wrapping his ring finger. That was an easy spot after being in the workplace as you long as you had. Or maybe that was just your profiler background giving you an upper hand.

Before you could do anything, however, Lavender was dragged back into a conversation with the lech, forcing a fake smile to crinkle her beautiful features. And you still had three drinks to deliver.

'There you go, boys,' you drawled out, slapping on a flirtatious smile as you placed the three glasses onto the small round table between the three occupied chairs.

'Why thank you, sweetheart,' one said, flashing your smile back at you in return. 'I've been looking forward to this all night.'

'Why don't you sit down with us,' another one said, patting his lap as he took a sip from his glass, never losing eye contact with you.

You repressed the shudder that instinctively rattled your bones, and instead you waved a hand carelessly. 'No, no. I can't. I'm on bar shift tonight, boys. I mean, who else is going to get you your drinks?'

'I'm sure someone else could cover for ya, sweetheart,' the third man suggested, hand reaching out to graze your hips. 'Come on, just ten minutes won't hurt anyone.'

Bile rose up in your throat at his touch, how it sent an uncomfortable chill through you despite the heat inside the Pit. But you were Serena Vanderguff, and this was not your first rodeo.

You gracefully yet pointedly slapped his hand away from you, laughing boisterously like you hadn't purposefully done that. 'Oh, you boys have such a wild sense of humour. But be honest... you couldn't afford ten minutes of this.'

You swayed your hips as you walked away, knowing full well they were staring after you. Wolf whistles followed your movements but none of them came after you thankfully, no doubt because they set their sights on some other poor victims.

You approached the bar and placed your tray on it, leaning on it with a sigh.

'Tell me about it,' a velvety voice said. The voice belonged to a gorgeous woman with charcoal skin, chocolate eyes, and multicoloured braids who was wiping glasses before putting them back behind the bar to use for another round of drinks. 'But I'm sad to say, but the night is still young.'

'You got that right, Ajani,' you murmured, rubbing around your eyes to avoid messing up your eye makeup. It was a little bright and bold for your taste, but it didn't matter what you liked.

It hadn't mattered for a while now.

'Hey,' Ajani said, grabbing your attention. 'Madame was looking for you in her office.'

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'For me? What for?'

Ajani shrugged, throwing the hand towel she'd been using over her shoulder. 'She didn't say what exactly, just that she wanted to see you now. Don't worry, I'll get Becky to cover for ten.'

You nodded, then cautiously turned over my shoulder to the door to the side of the stage that read OFFICE. It wasn't unusual for you to be called in to her office as of late. It was exactly what you wanted. But it didn't mean you weren't any less terrified whenever you entered, the endless possibilities of why you were in there driving you crazy.

The door opened to reveal Madame Lacroix sitting at her desk, a drink in hand, and two other men sitting in the two chairs on the other side of it. Two men, you were terrified to notice, you recognised as managers of your previous workplaces: Alfred Royalton of the Charming Times brothel, and Melton Jones from Guilty Pleasure. Their quiet murmurings silenced as soon as you came into view, their piercing gazes freezing you in the doorway.

'You wanted to see me, Madame?' you said as perkily as you could, hoping to cover your fear up slightly.

Madame Lacroix's red lips split in an award-winning smile as she waved you inside with her free hand. 'Yes, Serena. I was! How lovely of you to join us. Come in, come in!'

You quickly scurried in and closed the door behind you, happy to find reprieve in the much quieter room compared to the Pit. But that reprieve didn't last long, as you met your old bosses' curious gazes.

'You remember Alfred and Melton, Serena?' Madame Lacroix prompted after an awkward moment of silence.

'Yes,' you answered. 'It's great to see you both. You're looking well.'

'And so are you, dear Serena,' Alfred said, walking over and embracing you in an awkward hug as he tried to not spill his drink. As an older gentlemen, he seemed more like a fatherly figure to the girls in his employment. But from what you knew about the business he and the others in the room were involved in, he came off as a creepy pedophile. 'I'm so glad to see Madame Lacroix treating you so well. You know you are always welcome back at the old haunt.'

'If she's going back to anyone, it's me,' Melton said, the certainty in his words matching the intensity of his eyes. They raked you up and down, and again you repressed a shiver from the disgusting feeling it gave you to be watched like a piece of meat. Melton Jones couldn't be older than thirty-five, and was the son of one of the biggest CEO's in Eco-energy products and research.

You could only imagine what his big-time mother would think if she knew what her son was really into.

'Tough luck, boys. She's mine now,' Madame Lacroix interrupted the fight, getting up from her seat to walk around her desk and sling an arm around your shoulders. 'But why don't we get into what we really want to talk about? Have a seat, my dear.'

You didn't have much of a choice as Madame Lacroix guided you to sit in her own desk chair before joining the men on the other side. They all looked at you expectantly, but their smiles were more alarming than reassuring.

'Um... what did you want to see me for, Madame?' you asked after a moment of silence.

Madame didn't respond right away, placing her glass of wine down first on the desk. 'You are a special girl, Serena. Very special indeed.'

You raised a quizzical brow. 'How so?'

'You've impressed us,' Alfred answered, looking around at his peers. 'Your ability to keep secrets and do things without being asked has attributed to this. It's one of the reasons we've had to share you around so much and in such little time. If I had any say, you would've never left Charming Times!'

'You've done our stocktake,' Melton continued, those snake eyes of his never leaving yours. 'Kept certain... shipments under wraps. Picked up exclusive clientele that has done wonders for our business. You're like our own little personal lucky charm.'

You recounted all the times you'd hidden the secret load of drugs that were snuck into customer's drinks and food to get them so delirious they didn't realise how much money they were spending. All the times you sat in on meetings with the managers about who to target the next night, and all the shady receipts of shipments with unknown contents in them you hadn't be told about yet.

All the the illegal and dangerous deals that you'd told your Organised Crime unit about behind your managers' backs.

'That is why we would like to reward you, my dear,' Madame Lacroix said, a smile you figured to be proud gracing her lips. 'And we're not the only ones who think so too. We think you're ready to learn our... business, and so does the Boss.'

'The Boss?' you asked tentatively, not bothering to mask your slight fear. Was this the seller? Was this the guy you'd been trying to take down for almost a year now?

'Oh don't look so terrified, honey,' Madame Lacroix doted, walking around the desk to pat at your head. She leaned in close to you, and you restrained from gagging at the smell of too much wine tainting her breath. 'The Boss is impressed by your work and commitment to the trade. So much so, he wants to meet you. Soon.'

The men looked at you expectantly, and that's when you realised how you should be reacting. 'R-Really?' you mustered out an excited response, widening your eyes to appear more innocent. 'The Boss wants to see me?'

'Yes, Serena,' Alfred said. 'All the arrangements will be made when you meet, but soon you'll be seeing him a lot.'

'Arrangements?'

Melton surprisingly was the one to answer you. 'Each establishment in the Business, as we like to call it, has their hierarchy. The Boss is above us all, and he helps keep our establishments running smoothly. From there, it goes us, then our employees. That's you right now, Serena. But there is a status in between us and the employees that is trusted more than the others, kind of like our right hand woman.'

'And that woman acts as our mediator between us and the Boss,' Madame Lacroix continued, still stroking your hair. 'Kind of like a peace offering for how generous and kind he is to us.'

'What has this got to do with me?' you asked, but you already knew what the answer would be.

Madame Lacroix let out a dramatic sigh as she stood to make her way around the desk again, rejoining the men. 'Well, our mediator at the Chateau was Roxy, but, well, you know what happened to her. So what I'm offering is a chance to become the next Roxy, Serena. Be my most trusted employee, to learn the Business, and to appease the Boss- I mean, thank him.'

She stopped mid-walk to turn and look you dead in the eye, and despite her drunken breath, you saw clarity and evil flash in those emerald eyes of hers.

'So, what do you say, Serena? Do you want to be one of us?'

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 24B (the long-expected continuation): the gifts

or: the Rings of Power & Third Age

Another Sauron recap. He was particularly dangerous because he could shapeshift. But as we've seen before, he was not the only servant of Morgoth who could do that, there were some unnabed others. I suppose sauron was just the best in this and/or most convincing.

After Morgoth's defeat he bowed to Eonwë. So yes, it is probably about the same time when M&M send the letter demanding the silmarils. As I noticed in the WoW chapter reread, they don't go themselves, but still, maybe their emissary could have bumped into Sauron. It would be interesting to see this in a fic.

Maybe Sauron meant it, maybe not, we are left without a clear answer. But he was too ashamed and humilated to go before Manwë and afraid of a long punishment. He was not even afraid that they'd throw him in the void too, just didn't want a long penance, becasue he liked having power. Yes, indeed, you took a lot after Idiot#1. :(

OK, so here we are told that the Eldar could return to Eressea or Valinor. Mixed canon again. But i like them being allowed back into Valinor.

Something something map, Elven kingdoms, the Gwaith-i-Mírdain were better jewelers than everyone except Fëanor. Cool.

Sauron intrigues among the elves for a long time. Also, he badmouths Elrond and Gil-galad. The usual "we can make this land as pretty as Valinor, but yours" spiel. I mean, yes, this works :(

The Rings, nothing new in the reread…

Imladris! It's build during the war of Elves and Sauron for the Rings.

Sauron put some of his malice into the 16 rings too. The seven were made of gold, if I read it correctly. Also, the Nine allow to see the unseen but Sauron can editwhat is seen.

Also, he is still able to look fair at this point, but he prefers to rule by terror. We've seen this pattern of behavioral change before. :(

Again, the people in the South and East are evil and worship Sauron :F

The wording in this chapter suggests that it was the Valar who destroyed Númenor, I guess we're in a different narrative frame?

(Who even gave the in-world editors the information of what actually happnned? Gandalf?)

Elendil&co arrive. The seven palantíri, we get a list of their locations. The palantíri allow seeing things distant in space and in time, most easily things happening near another seeing stone.

Sauron is sitting in the darkness, thinking (Fic potential: what is he thinking about? He just has gotten a full-on divine punishment out of the blue. He's got a lot to think about.) until he makes a new form for himself. Aaaand no, the thinking did not work, he puts on his ring and here we go again.

We get the names of two important evil Númenoreans (but not necessarily the ones with rings).

The Last Alliance (yes, the whole army!) spends some time in Imladris. (Fic potential!!!) They are compared to the army of the West during the War of Wrath. There's a big battle. Fun fact: all the animals split so that every army has some of each species. I really wonder why? what worldbuilding or literary goal does this sentence serve? It seems so random.

They besiege Mordor for seven years. Again, important nmbers are important.

Third Age begins. Mordor is guarded, kind like Angband had been in FA.

Things happen, Isildur dies, what is it with broken swords "loosing their sheen"? First Anglachel and now Narsil. Does it just mean it became dull for some reason? What is it?

Also, Elrond does prophecies. Cool. Well, ok, he does one prophecy but still.

Eärnur, the last king of Gondor had clearly read too much about Fingolfin. And not enough about Maedhros. Protip: when Sauron challenges you to a duel, he is not going to duel you. Just to capture you. And nobody knows what happenned to him. Fic potential. But dark. :(

Also, does Sauron have a checklist with a neat header "things Melkor had done" and just goes along it???

So, Imladris. Elrond lived there for the whole TA, along with many wise beings of various kinds. Which, i think, implies Dwarves, Men (of course), and maybe an Entwife. And likely something I forgot about. also the remaining Noldor generally live there and in Grey Havens.

The fact that Elrond and Galadriel have Elven Rings is not spoken about but most Elves figured it out from the observable clues.

Also, Rivendell is described as a place "above which the stars shine brightest" XD

We get an info about the Istari, it's the version where Saruman arrives first. Also, I forgot that, but Saruman spent a lot of time with Men. He was less of a loner than I remembered.

Also, we are told that he best knew Sauron's earlier deeds. Huh. Did he study them or what? This makes the "Saruman envied Sauron from very early on" idea more likely.

Gandalf ran away from Dol Guldur. It made 100% sense, but still kind of funny. Elrond seems to have better foresight than Gandalf, at least when it comes to figuring out that Saruman is wrong. Makes sense.

"A strange chance" XD Sure Elrond you can't see it, Men are often fuzzy with fate (and Hobbits are Men), and I guess Gandalf's logic is "OK, this can't end that bad, but I can't see a way either, therefore it must lean on one of the elements which I do not see well". He is wise. (Not that Elrond isn't.) and further we get recap of LotR but from the backstage.

Aragorn is 39th heir of Isildur… which means he's 40th of Elendil. And he is very much like Elendil. So 40 is the number to look at here, not 39.

Well, ok, 39 in the sense of "let's recontextualize this number and the concept of Dúnedain form Pharazôn's madness to something good." But I'm not sure Tolkien enjoyed the idea of recontextualization. so maybe it's just "39 looks cool because 3 and 9 and also I want to say he was 40th after Elendil but I don't want it to look like a blatant ripoff".

The last Noldor sailed, so you may argue about Maglor here.

And the book ends.

[eleni-cherie]

among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- chapter 1.1

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

Breaking into the evidence storage wasn't hard with Seokjin's keycard. Getting there had been a bit more challenging considering the guards and agents who had remained there past office hours but he had still managed sneaking his way upstairs through the emergency staircase unnoticed. Finding his gun, however, appeared to be the harder task. Numerous boxes lined up with a nonsensical sorting system were lined up on the shelves and Jimin gulped when coming face to face with.

He didn't have much time though, getting there had already cost him five minutes and twenty three seconds - years of training to precisely calculate the time for heists in case a watch stopped working, coming in handy. That also meant he couldn't afford wasting any more time though. He only had four minutes to get out of there.

His gaze ran over the series of numbers on the boxes and he started recognising a pattern. Sorted by date of arrest, initials of arrested and their birth date.

So after walking around the aisle, he came to an halt in front the box that according to this logic, must've been his. And indeed, inside he found his Walter ppk, watch and wallet with fake IDs, the only personal belongings he always carried with him.

If he remembered correctly from the previous times he'd "visited" that building, the parking lot was just behind the evidence storage. If Yoongi was there, he could've just cut a hole in the wall with his swordand they'd escape, but he wasn't so Jimin had to come up with a different idea. And that fast.

He stepped out, making his way down the empty corridor when footsteps echoed on the linoleum ground from around the corner. He stopped in his tracks and quickly unlocked the door he was standing in front of by sliding one of his IDs into the door crack. After entering, he closed it soundlessbehind him and pressed himself against it, waiting. A sigh of relief left his lips when the sounds soon died down, although not for long as he only had roughly two minutes left.

The room he was in was dark, barely making out any shapes s he pressed one of the buttons on his watch to switch on the integrated flashlight. It seemed like he'd found himself in someone's office. Already spotting the small window up high. Too high for normal people but not too high for him, his monkey-like climbing abilities from climbing up all kinds of things since a young age made it easy to get on the bookshelves and bent enough to reach the small margin and open it.

He crawled through it, the frame just wide enough for him to fit and jumped down. Landing in front of none other than agent Blake who had just turned around the building's corner in that moment. She immediately froze when seeing the criminal who was supposed to be behind bars. Both staring at each other bewildered.

"Park Jimin, you're under arr-"

Before she could even finish her sentence and draw her gun, he had already rushed behind her. Holding her arms behind her back and spreading her legs with his, just in case she thought about kicking him where it hurt, making it impossible for her to move.

"Shh, dear," he whispered, making her audibly scoff while trying wiggling herself out of his grip.

"Agent Blake, for you."

He laughed out, hislips curling into a smirk then as he leaned in then. "Say, agent Blake, can't remember anyone else smelling as lovely as you. Is that parfume?"

Skylar's lips parted, his unexpected comment about her scent taking her off-guard. "Wh-"

"Hm.. Let me guess," Jimin chuckled then from behind, "You're into your little colleague, agent Jeon, right?"

A scowl immediately spread on her eyes over this random conclusion. "T-that'd be highly unprofessional," she said, feeling the need to defend herself.

"Aw c'mon, you can tell me!"

The woman only huffed, feeling her cheeks flushing. He was only trying messing with her and make her let her guard down, she realised. She had to stay clear-minded and not get fooled.

With a deep inhale, she gathered all her energy before yelling out: "Agent in danger! Help! Ag- !" But her mouth got quickly covered by one of his hands, preventing her from attracting anyone's attention. "Shhh, don't be so mean," he whined, "You know you ain't in danger. Don't get me in trouble just because I'm exposing your crush on the little guy."

She lookd offended by that. "He isn't a little guy," she mumbled against his hand, "He could beat your ass with no trouble."

Jimin laughed out at this, amused about him having hit yet another nerve. As always. Analysing people and finding out their weaknesses was part of the job after all and he was fairly good at it. Partially because it was also fun to see theirfacade of staidness crumble so easily and getting upset like children.

"Aw, sorry for offending your crush."

"He isn't my crush!"

He grinned, knowing she couldn't see him. "Whatever you say, love." And before she could retort anything else or attempt escaping, he pinched the spot between her neck and shoulder, causing Skylar to instantly succumb, her body subsiding in his arms. "Huh, she's heavier than she looks," he muttered to himself while carefully placing her down. Leaning her unconscious body sitting against the wall.

He grabbed her phone out of her jacket then and headed to the parking lot. Twendy-five seconds were left andhe knew Seokjin wouldn't gift him any second more.

He broke into one of the few cars standing there when hearing sirens going off inside the building.

"As expected, exactly ten minutes," he huffed, looking at his watch, "Punctual as always, pops. But I'm not dumb." He took the tracker from the coat's pocket which the agent thought he hadn't noticed him placing there, crushing it with his heal before sliding behind the driver's seat. After taking a few seconds to hot-wire the car and get the motor to jump start, he floored the gas pedal and dashed out of the parking lot right when seeing several agents in the side-mirror, rushing out of the main entrance and looking dumbfounded.

Despite the late hour, the streetsof Seoul were still quite busy as he was heading to the direction of an old hideout near the port. On the way, he planned to stop in an alley and leave the car and find a substitute, as the cops would easily find the car tag from security footage.

While overtaking another car he remembered still having Skylar's phone and took it out of the pocket to scroll through her contacts and stopped at one, tapping on it.

He cleared his throat, preparing his voice to adjust while he waited for the other person to pick up. The dial tone abruptly cutting off.

"Hello? Skylar?"

"Jungkookie, please help me!" Jimin mimicked the panicked voice of Skylar, immitating her perfectly. Even adding a pleading tone, to make it more believable.

"S-Skylar, where are you?"

"At the east side of the building. Please, hurry."

He didn't wait for a responce and hung up. Tossing the phone out of the window of the driving car.

"Thank me later, love."

»»»

3 minutes earlier

"Is everything alright? How did this happen?" Jungkook furrowed his brows at his supervisor, concern evident in his expression. He helped him get rid of the handcuffs, handing them back to him. "Did he fake the amnesia after all?"

Seokjin shook his head, rubbing his wrists that were finally freed before securing the handcuffs back around his belt.

"I don't think so," he answered and made his way to the elevators to head back upstairs, Jungkook trailing behind him. "He said someone gave him a pill and messed with his mind, ordering him to eliminate Valentine."

Jungkook's round eyes became even rounder at this. "Makes sense, I suppose, he'd never do this on his own after all.." the younger agent humed, earning an arched brow from Seokjin. He blinked, coughing nervously. "I-I mean, for all we know it'd be quite atypical of him at least."

His supervisor chuckled, directing his gaze to the elevator doorswhich opened with a ping. "Indeed," the older guy nodded and headed to his desk, "That's why I wanted you to do a new background check on her."

"Of course, yes. And did he say who it was? The one ordering him to eliminate Valentine?"

Seokjin stopped in front of his desk, turning at him with a sigh. "He did not."

His replies only rose more questions in Jungkook's head and Seokjin could tell by the deep crease between the young man's brows.

"But why do they want him to kill her?"

Pursing his lips, Seokjin had to suppress a chuckle. "That's what we gotta find out. He only said she used to be their member, whatever that means."

Jungkook slouched slightly but still nodded, despite not being entirely satisfied. He rubbed his temple then when his eyes fell on the whiteboard next to their desks. The crease returning tohis forehead "Who's 'owl inc'?"

Seokjin hummed questioningly, glancing up from the papers in front of him confused. "Never heard of it. Why?"

"Because someone wrote it here." Jungkook pointed with his finger on the bulletpoint on the bottom.

The older agent frowned and stood up again, walking up to the board to see what his subordinate was talking about as Jungkook excused himself to answer an incoming call.

The whiteboards was where they had gathered all relevant information on Jimin and his gang. Dates, notes, photos all in one place. It was quite a lot for everyone, sometimes new things getting added on them, except for one person. Arabella Valentine.

Out of the four, her bulletpoints were the most sparsley filled ones, hardly containing any useful information past her direct involvement with cases regarding Jimin.

"Arabella Valentine

associate to Park Jimin his lover!

no known/confirmed alias

thief/spy

age: unknown, ca. 25-30

birthplace/nationality: unknown

background: unknown kidnapped at 5 by 'owl inc', past member"

Someone had added something under 'background' and considering the freshly added 'his lover' under associate, Seokjin was confident in knowing exactly who that someone had been.

But what or who was 'owl inc'? Were they the ones Jimin had been talking about?

"Don?" he called out for one of the other few agents there. The man instantly perking up when hearing his name. "Call Jung Hoseok from organised crime tomorrow morning, I wanna ask him if he knows anything about this 'owl inc'." The agent nodded and noted it down, when Seokjin call out for him again. "And also get Kim Namjoon from special victims here. We might need him, too."

He heard hurried footsteps coming closer then. A flustered Jungkook standing beside him. "Sir, that was Skylar. She seemed in trouble and need for help. I've got to check on her."

Seokjin straightened himself, alarmed by that himself and gave him a stern nod. "Okay, but be careful. Perhaps it wasn't the real Blake after all."

Jungkook's eyes widened, eventually understanding what he meant. It wouldn't be the first time Park Jimin perfectly immitated someone's voice, even a female one. So he nodded, promising to be careful before rushing out and Seokjin watched him disappear behind the glass doors.

He exited the building and headed to its east side just as the voice on the call had instructed him to. Gun in his hand, just in case as he carefully roamed around the area until turning around the corner where the visitor parking lots were located at.

And his breath hitched when seeing an unconscious body against the wall. "Sky!"

His gun went back into its holster before he rushed towards his unconcious colleague and lowered down on one knee to get a closer look on her. Her head was bent to the side, eyes closed but otherwise she didn't seem to have any external injuries, which he was glad about but it still made him wonder what else had caused her unconsciousness.

He gently pressed three fingers into the side of her throat until finding the carotid artery to check her pulse. It was still beating and that quite strongly which made him him sigh shakily as relief washed over him. Still, he had to bring her to a hospital.

Brushing the strands of hair away from her serene looking face, his gaze lingered on it a second more before he swallowed and propped himself up. Sliding his arms behind her back and her knees, he carefully heaved her from the cold ground and held her close to his chest.

"Please, hang in there, Sky."

»»»

two days later

Havana, Cuba

Three knocks were heard on the door, but neither Taehyung nor Yoongi made a move to answer, the first one being too immersed in his mobile game while the other one was watching a basketball match and choseto ignore it. Only when another three knocks followed, Yoongi threw Taehyung an inquiring look, causing the younger one to drag out a sigh and push himself off the couch.

"Yeah, yeah, coming," Taehyung yawned with tousled hair and strands flying around from hours of gaming. He walked to the door and cracked it open, only to see Jimin standing there with a wide smile. "Hey! What took you so long?"

However, he only earned a suspious glare from Taehyung who reached for his gun. And Jimin chuckled, holding his hands up high in defense. "Wowhoho," he shoved the gun away from his face, "Is this how you greet your best friend?"

"Obviously," Yoongi was heard then, soon appearing behind Taehyung and brushed past him. He was also holding his sword towards Jimin, just in case. "So you're back to normal now?"

He grinned, pushing his fists against his waist to boast out his chest. "Yep, good old me!"

Taehyung eyed him carefully up and down, wanting to be entirely sure before eventually nodding, lowering his gun with Yoongi following slowly - very slowly- allowing him to enter. 

The younger guy arched a brow. "So you won't try killing us again?" he asked with a lopsided smirk, making Jimin huff.

"I've never tried killing you."

"True, it was Arabella you were after," Yoongi corrected nodding, taking his previous seat on the couch, "You only attacked us for holding you back."

Jimin sighed at the faint memory which felt like rather belonging to a stranger than being his own. He was only glad his friends had been sane enough to keep him from getting to Arabella. They'd protected her just like he'd promised her they would back in Mexico. They might not like her but they wouldn't let anyone harm her either. 

"Thanks for that by the way," he said, scratching the back of his neck when sitting down himself. Now that he was reminded of that, he felt embarrassed despite not being himself then, "I owe you for that."

"You owe us for many things," Taehyung mumbled lazily before plopping down on the couch and returning to his game, "But let's forget about it. At least you're no lunatic anymore."

"Speaking of Bella, where's she?" he asked then, looking around. He couldn't spot her anywhere.

Taehyung frowned at his display. "Didn't you call her?"

"No, I assumed she'd be with you guys.. Why? Where's she?"

Yoongi shrugged, averting his eyes from the tv to briefly look at him. "Last time we heard of her she was with some multi-millionaire on a greek island."

Jimin to let out a loud groan at this. "This woman.. I told her it's not safe on her own." He shook his head, exhaling deeply before furrowing his brows at them. "And you guys just let her?"

"She's an adult," Taehyung rolled his eyes, "It's not like we could force her to stay."

He groaned again. Getting more and more frustrated. "You should have!"

"Jimin, calm down. You out of all people should know how headstrong she is," Yoongi argued, "And it's not like she isn't able defending herself."

Folding his arms, he sat down with a pout on his lips. He knew they were right but couldn't help but being concerned about her. These guys were still after her after all and they weren't the ordinary kind. Besides, he was the only one who could protect her, not some stupid 'multi-millionaire'.

He scoffed internally at the thought of that. 

"What happened to you anyway, why were you after her?"

"It was these guys," Jimin explained, propping his face on his hands. "They got me and I don't know.. brainwashed me? They gave me some mind control drug or so, conditioned me into only seeing her as a target. I had completely forgotten everything else. Partially even you guys. I mean, I knew you, but I had forgotten what you're to me. And what she is to me. The only thing on my mind was that I had to eliminate her."

Yoongi scrunched his nose at his narration. "Sounds like you were their puppet."

He sighed, burrowing his face in his palms. "Pretty much."

"And explains why you attacked us," he pointed out, "But you seem fine now. Are you fine?"

Jimin shrugged. "Guess so.. I got memory flashbacks in the cell pops locked me into. And eventually it all came back."

"About that.." Taehyung paused his game and sat up, giving him an awkward look, "Sorry I set him on you. It seemed the only save solution back then. You were out of your mind after all and I didn't know what to do."

Jimin waved him off quickly, though, shaking his head. "Don't worry, I get it. And I had missed pops anyway," he chuckled then, "Poor guy looked so offended when I couldn't remember him anymore."

Who knew, perhaps that was the reason he'd given him those ten minutes to escape. He'd looked quite happy when seeing Jimin had gained back his memory and remembered who he was.

They might be rivals, like cat and mouse, but they did have a mutual respect and sympathy for each other. And he was the only lawenforcement member Jimin genuinely trusted.

"Alright, anyway," he exclaimed suddenly, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "New plan then! First we get Bella back, then we'll proceed with the original plan."

"The original plan?" Yoongi repeated astonished, "You mean-"

"Yep. Following the hint from your idea and hopefully finding the treasure."

Yoongi's gaze immediately wandered to Taehyung who remained silent, looking at his hands laying flat on his lap. Jimin frowned, following Yoongi's gaze. He noticed the troubled expression on his face and soon understood.

"Oh, look, Tae, if you prefer staying here with Cas, it's totally fine. I'd understand."

Even if it'd only been for merely two weeks, it almost felt like back in the good old days. He always knew, however, that sooner or later he'd have to bid goodbye to her again and he'd been mentally preparing himself for that moment to come from the beginning. It was looming in the horizon, it was lingering in the air, ever since he'd allowed himself to relent and enter her life again.

He was just glad it came later than expected. But still too soon.

"No, it's okay," he shook his head eventually and glanced at his friends. First at Jimin, then at Yoongi who was giving him a quiet glance of empathy. He'd been there after all, he'd seen him and Cassandra together and how happy they were.

Swallowing, Taehyung looked down at his hands again. "T-that's the life I've chosen after all. The only thing I'm good at," he said, the smile not reaching his eyes. It was a sad one, they could tell. Sitting up straight then he forced his lips to grow wider. "And besides, I can't let you guys hanging, you'd be stranded without me. Well, at least you, Jimin. I know Yoongi can handle himself just fine."

Yoongi couldn't help but let out a small laugh at this as Jimin rolled his eyes.

"Fine. But don't use me as an excuse," Jimin said.

"I'm.. I'm not."

They grew quiet before Yoongi cleared his throat, changing topics. "So when are we leaving?"

Jimin mused for a moment. "I'm gonna leave tomorrow to get Bella. You guys can follow later, in two to three days. Except if you already got other plans for these days.." He glanced at Taehyung who shook his head quickly.

He stood up then and headed to the door. "I'm.. I'm gonna let her know then."

"Take your time," Jimin said with a soft smile, "See you then."

Taehyung gave them a nod and left, Jimin facing Yoongi then with a grin. "Alright, how about we grab some food?"

"Sorry, already got plans right now."

His eyes widened. "What plans?"

Yoongi motioned with his chin to the television, making the younger man roll his eyes and slumb back in his seat,. And Jimin knew he didn't even need to try. He wouldn't get Yoongi to leave before the game was over. Not if he didn't want to.

"Hmph, fine. I'm gonna look for food on my own then."

»»»

Taehyung stood in front of Cassandra's door with a heavy heart. His hand kept rising and falling tohis side. He couldn't bring himself to go through with it, unsure of how to explain to her that he was leaving her once again. Just like one and a half years ago.

He rubbed his face out of frustration.

Her reaction wasn't something that scared him, after all he knew how understanding she was. He knew how she respected his life. No, her possible reaction wasn't scaring him, it was rather tearing him apart. Because even if she was more understanding than he ever deserved, she'd never been good in hiding her feelings. Her pain. Her big brown eyes would always give her away, as much as she tried hiding it.

So when he finally found the courage to ring the doorbell and Cassandra opened the door, seeing him standing there slouching and filled with anguish, her sweet smile instantly dropped. And before his lips could even part to explain himself, she cut him off with a sigh. "You've got to leave, right?" she asked with a sad smile.

And he simply nodded, unable to utter a word. His eyes falling to the tiger pendant and heart locket adorning her collarbones and his lips couldn't help but form a tiny smile at the sight of them. He hadn't expected to see her wearing them again and the fact she'd kept them all this time affected him more than he'd have imagined because he, too, had kept everything she'd ever given him.

"When?"

His eyes averted from the necklaces and dared to meed her eyes. "In three days."

She inhaled sharply. A stern expression spreading on her soft features then as she straighted herself.

"Don't you dare disappear on me again. Got it?"

Taehyung's lips fell agape and he blinked, taken aback by her unexpected words. "Cas, you know it's better wh-"

"- when you just dip and disappear like I've never mattered to you?"

His lips pressed together in a straight line, an equally severe look in his eyes as he held her glare. "You know I don't wanna drag you again into the mass that's my life."

"No, don't start all that again." Her voice broke at the end although she tried her best remaining firm and not let her emotions take over, "You know I never minded your life or only seeing you every other month." She stepped out then despite being barefoot, placing her hand on his cheek. Caressing his warm skin with her thumb as a small mirk tucked on her lips. "You know how cool I find my super hot master thief boyfriend," she giggled then.

He couldn't help but laugh at this, placing her hand on hers. Even now she managed making him laugh. Their hands lowered and they intertwined their fingers, squeazing them together.

"Jimin's the master thief, I'm just the gunman," he corrected her with fake-offence.

"That's even hotter."

He shook his head bashfully, chuckling at her nonsense. Even if she'd explained it to him years ago, he still couldn't wrap his head around how someone as cool as her would ever fall for him.

He honestly didn't believe he deserved Cassandra. He never did. She was too good of a person for a jackass like him. She deserved better. And yet, there she was, always sticking with him throughout the years. Despite him hurting her over and over again in the attempt of protecting her.

"I almost lost you the first time," he whispered then, pain washing over his soft edges when recalling the end of their relationship, "I promised to myself to never endanger you like this again."

She shook her head, holding his gaze. "That wasn't your fault, you know that."

"It was because of me, though."

Cassandra's eyes fell, searching for any more arguments. She was set on changing his mind and she would. "Alright, then see it like that," she said then and Taehyung saw a suspicious grin on her lips, full of mischief, "It already happened once, so it's less likely to happen again any time soon."

He huffed, dumbfounded. "You really stick to your guns, huh?"

"You're not the only one with one."

She was persistent, he gave her that. And perhaps she did have a point, but no, he had to stay persistent himself. It was about her safety.

"So?" Cassandra arched a brow at him, tucking at his hand like an impatient child. "Promise you'll come back after the job's finished. Otherwise I'll hunt you down myself. I might not have all you guys' skills but I will track you down on my own if you dare vanishing into thin air again. You hear me, cool guy?"

Her determined expression evoked a chuckle from him. He knew Cassandra was stubborn and if she set her mind on something, it was one of the many reasons he loved her and perhaps she'd indeed manage hunting him down if he tried breaking up with her again.

But quite frankly, he felt tired of trying conving them both that breaking up was the best when in reality he also couldn't bring himself to do it again.

The first time had torn his heart apart, the past one and half year without her being the worst in his life and he never wanted to go through that experience ever again.

The ghost of a smile was on his heart-shaped lips when he finally nodded. Squeazing her hand, he pulled her into his arms and embraced her tightly.

"You make it hard for me to protect you, angel, but yes, I promise."

»»»

next chapter: 1.2 here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[artmolonara]

Halloween Highroad - Writing Commission

My first ever writing commission on Ko-Fi (Check the end for a link)! Thank you again, @lyndexv!

***Please Enjoy***

The last day of October was a beckoning call to take the high roads of chance and find that spectral adventure that all sought. As it was, there was such a chance to be taken tonight.

A tall young man trotted up the gravel road, through dustings of fallen leaves, a backpack slung across his arm, ladened with perhaps more than he needed, but something felt special this evening, that perhaps, just maybe, the old stories would be true.

Nour was definitely the adventurous type, drawn to stories and tales of yesteryear. Pulp fictions, radio dramas, noir and western classics, all were so appealing to him and his particular interests.

And feeling that call of adventure, he had made it a Halloween goal to go on an excursion to someplace interesting. A search online had yielded a very interesting tale of urban exploration, of an old castle on the outskirts that was supposedly haunted. And not by some simple ghoul, but by what appeared to be an old timey car that seemed to drive around all by itself. Locals described it as a 1937 Citroën Traction 11B Cabriolet and had given it the charming nickname “Bernadette.”

This fascinated Nour a great deal indeed.

Only tonight he wasn’t Nour. The tradition of Hallow’s Eve was to embody another soul altogether, either a revulsion or a reflection. Nour had chosen the latter, for tonight, he was “Fajar, adventurer extraordinaire,” a character of his own creation.

And here he was, at the threshold now of a long abandoned ruin, overgrown with rot and decay. What wonders awaited inside? Hopefully, a table lay within, one which to host the tiny banquet he had brought within his pack; nothing too extravagant, just some cutlery, a nice meal, some wine, should he encounter some interesting company.

As luck would have it, he did.

Rounding the facade, looking for an entrance to the looming building, Nour was suddenly halted by the sound of slow and heavy rolling over gravel behind. Turning, he beheld a large shape in the dark, before his sight was temporarily blinded by two bright beams that flared to life.

A voice spoke out, as gravelly as the road he trod, while his vision slowly recalibrated from the light.

“This here is private property, you best be getting on now.”

It was an feminine voice, with an old type of speech pattern popular in 1920 talkies, and it sounded like it was being projected out of some speaker. Remotely, or…

His eyes now clear of purple smear, he could see clearly the vehicle before him. There it was, the old Cabriolet, as described in the forums. The body seemed well kept for the age, though it was missing a roof. The dark blue, almost black hued hull looked unblemished in the moon’s pale light.

Nour looked for the driver, but the glare obscured the interior from view. There was the possibility that this was simply a Halloween trick, a Scooby Doo spook just opting for scare tactics and nothing more. But even so, Nour embodied Fajar, unafraid and hopeful that there was truth to the legends, and knowing what to do.

He made a gentlemanly bow.

“Good evening, fair lady. Pardon me for possibly intruding, for I was heeding the nightly call to wayward wandering. My name is Fajar, and it is good fortune to be making your acquaintance.”

There was a moment of idling from the vehicle, then a soft beep and roll forward as a sign of intimidation.

“Now I do hate to be repeating myself,” came the lady’s voice again, slight annoyance with a twinge of walled fear, “but I will not be entertaining any more gentleman callers at this time of night, all looking to make a quick buck from stolen parts or take speakeasy joy rides around town. I won’t stand for it! So, again, I suggest you take your leave before I run you flatter than a buckwheat pancake… er, Please…”

But ever determined, Nour held his ground, looking up at the rumbling engine grill. 

“I hate to be so forward for asking this, but could you perhaps be Bernadette, the supposedly haunted car?”

The Cabriolet rolled back slightly as if in surprise, the mirrors suddenly moving this way and that at all angles, as if looking around.

The voice came out staticy and slightly panicked, “Are you one of them ghost hunters who’s been trying to leave cameras every- the nerve of- well you… good day-er night!” The car suddenly started to back up to leave. 

“Wait!” Nour called out, “I am no ghost hunter, madam, I just wanted to come visit you.” He reached into the pack and pulled out the aged wine, “I even brought dinner to share!”

At this, she stopped, flank now facing him as she had turned toward the gates. The side mirror spun to reflect him like an eye, angling to look him up and down. From this angle there was no mistaking now that the car was empty.

After a pause, a response floated out from within, “... goodness, how… hmm… now why…” There was a sound of clearing the fluster out of her throat, “What possessed you to… well, seek me out, specifically?”

Nour thought a moment, then responded with sincerity, “You must get lonely up here, all by yourself. I thought, on night of all nights, you might enjoy some company. If you’ll have me, that is.” The offer was extended, hanging in the air like the hallow moon.

Finally, a small chuckle came from the vehicle, “Well, you certainly are much more civil than any other gent that’s crossed my path… fine, sir, I suppose I can entertain the idea… so long as you behave yourself.”

Nodding his head, Nour put the wine back in his pack, “Of course, my lady. Is there someplace here we could sit and talk or…” He looked around at the ruinous steps of the castle, covered with moss and refuse, hardly a comfortable spot to rest.

“Oh no,” she responded, “Here is much too drab. I know a good spot down the road,” the passenger’s door swung open, “Hop in, I’ll take you there.”

Nour felt a slight hesitation. This was all happening so fast. A true living, seemingly haunted, car, and he was speaking to it, and now, it wished to drive him somewhere? Truly a tale off the pages of his favorite novels was coming to life around him. It was almost overwhelming, but the spirit of Fajar urged him on eagerly, to continue forward and see where the night led.

And so, he climbed in. There were thankfully seatbelts. Old cars like this tended not to have them, though this one seemed to have had some installed.

“By the way,” he asked, “Is it alright if I call you Bernadette. I know it’s what you’re known as, but if you go by another name…”

The radio in the dashboard crackled in response, showing the origin of the voice, “Bernadette is fine, I don’t know of any other name I’ve ever had besides it. And is it ok if I call you Mister Fajar?”

Nour smiled giddily, “Fajar is fine… I also go by Nour too. Whichever you prefer.

As they took off down the road, the steering wheel turning on its own with each curve they passed, Nour took the time to introduce himself more, explaining his hobbies, passions, life experiences, anything he thought may be of interest to her. And in return, Bernadette told him about her own life, as it was.

She didn’t recall being anything other than what she currently was, only that one day, a decade or so ago, she woke up under a sheet in a garage somewhere, gathering dust. Obviously a car that could talk and drive itself was all together strange to most, so she went into seclusion, only taking night drives to feel the wind about her. Folks still took notice, of course, and she had encountered a number of unsavory individuals over the years, which made her all the more glad that Nour, or as she continued to call him, Mister Fajar, was very respectable and treated her like a person.

They continued to talk as they came to a good spot overlooking the city. With luck, there was a picnic table nearby where Nour could have his late dinner and talk to Bernadette some more. When asked if she would perhaps like to get some oil or something, she explained that she’d never had the need to refuel at all, only sleep to make her gages go up. She hadn’t really questioned it, nor really felt the need to find out why. Nour didn’t pry further, and she was very appreciative of that.

The night wore on, and after a time, they decided to take a drive around and admire the festive lights and activities of Halloween, eventually finding a drive-in theater that Bernadette knew about. A double feature was enjoyed by both, Nour sharing facts of the films and Bernadette listening with great interest.

When pink haze began to creep over the horizon, and the excitement of a night that seemed to have gone by way too fast began to fade as exhaustion took hold, Nour, with great reluctance, decided to call it.

“Well, my dear Bernadette, I could talk to you for hours more, but unfortunately, the sandman is coming to spirit me away as we speak.” He finished with a yawn.

A giggle tingled though the system, “It would certainly seem so. Allow me to drive you home.”

After some directions, they arrived at his place, to which Nour saw himself out, bowing sleepily to the open car door. “It has been an enchanting evening, I thoroughly enjoyed your company.”

“I as well, Mister Fajar. You are truly the most upstanding and interesting young man I’ve ever met.”

Bashfulness colored Nour’s face, “May I call on you again sometime, fair lady?”

Bernadette chuckled, “Certainly. You know where to find me… and speaking of which, I should be getting back before I’m noticed by someone. Not everyone is as understanding as you, unfortunately.”

Nour nodded, “Safe travels then, I will visit you again soon.”

With a farewell, and a horn toot, the Citroën model car sped off into the rosy distance. Nour watched it go until it was no longer in sight, finally sighing, and heading inside his home. He would remember this magic night for always, and plan another night to visit his new companion soon.

He also would need to get his pack back, as in all the excitement the two shared, it had been forgotten on the seat.

~FIN~

Hope you liked it.

I still have slots open on my commission page, and I also do art if anyone else would like to have something done. Check out my Ko-Fi via the link.

BUY ME A KO-FI

[whisker-biscuit]

SlyFox Day 3: Hide

Mildly suggestive themes for this one but nothing warranting more than a T-rating.

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

It starts innocently, like it often does.

A light bump to the arm as they’re passing each other in the hall; a gentle brush to the shoulder while they’re both using the same corkboard wall to track down criminal movement; the slightest contact of two tails when he sits at his desk with a case file and she hovers over his chair.

It starts innocently, very often, and just as often it ends with them finding a remote corner of the building to make out.

Sly’s touch is tender and reverent where he’s running his fingers through her hair at the back of her skull, and Carmelita has him pressed against the wall with her hands cupping his face as if he might disappear out from beneath her at any moment. They kiss each other in a back-and-forth of chaste to sensual, sensual to rapid-fire, rapid-fire to chaste and then the pattern repeats again. Anyone else might see the display and wonder if they were actually drunk, but in truth they are simply making up for lost time.

There is a lot of lost time to make up for, after all. Lost time and lost kisses.

This time, they’ve tucked themselves away in an empty conference room that looks like it hasn’t seen visitors in at least a decade. The door to the hallway doesn’t have a lock on it, and Carmelita cannot help the thrill at the thought of how risky this new spot is – how someone could come in at any moment and catch them in an act that isn’t technically illegal but feels so very much so.

Then the thrill turns to horror as they hear footsteps coming their way.

Sly moves first, used to reacting to a sudden threat before he can be caught, and pulls her immediately through the opposite door on his left side. It’s not an escape – this is a cramped, dusty closet for housing extra chairs and portable tables – but it is a hiding place, and it’s just in time as Carmelita closes the door nearly-silently right before they hear the other one open.

She holds her breath like it will make her quieter as she presses one ear to the wood and listens for motion on the other side. Whoever crashed their party seems to be moving with purpose, doubling back and forth across the room, and she realizes with panic that they are probably setting up the large conference table for an actual upcoming conference. The fox prays to all that is holy that they don’t need more chairs.

Her partner is right behind her, but his presence has all but vanished. The only reason she can sense him at all is from instincts long-since honed to do so with him and him specifically. She might as well be alone in the closet for how unobtrusive he’s become.

That is, until she feels warm breath at her neck and gentle kisses at her cheek.

Carmelita stiffens, and Sly pulls back immediately. The unspoken apology radiates off of him in waves, but mixed in is a tentative sort of question that she doesn’t even need to turn around to know is on his face.

The stranger is still moving around the room proper. The inspector considers their predicament. If they are found in here, it’s going to be obvious what they were doing no matter how innocently they try to play it off. Sly seems to have already come to that conclusion and then followed it up with the decision that they might as well get something out of it while they’re stuck.

Carmelita hesitates, and considers. The thrill from before slowly begins to trickle back, subdued but no less potent and, with a final prayer that her boss will forgive her if the worst comes to pass, nods her head once in the dark.

The kisses resume, silent and careful and downright dangerous.

She keeps perfectly still as her partner peppers them across her cheek, down her neck, along the slightest bare of her shoulders where they meet her collared jacket. She closes her eyes and pretends it so that she can hear into the other room better when he silently moves her braided hair aside and starts in earnest at the base of her head. She refuses to breathe, refuses to squirm, refuses to show any reaction as he tries his absolute best to make her do the opposite.

She very nearly breaks when he presses his lips to her spine and hums. He hums so low and so quiet that she can only hear because they’re touching, and it almost makes her lose the game when, at the exact same time, the stranger outside their little haven makes a more audible sound than usual.

Carmelita manages not to shiver by sheer force of will, but she feels Sly’s smile against her skin and knows that he knows that he almost has her. Bastard.

Then, all at once, the stranger leaves, and she waits until the raccoon says a soft “they’re gone” before throwing open the closet door and rushing for the other exit. She can feel the heat in her face all the way up to her ears and refuses to look back at her partner the entire speedwalk back to their shared office.

As soon as they are safe in real privacy, she whirls on him and wants to either kiss or slap the stupid smug smile that’s there to greet her.

“Well,” he says, as unconcerned as if they’d just come back from lunch together, “that was certainly exciting.”

The inspector gives him a dirty look that is contrasted greatly by how red she still is. “We are never talking about this again.”

“You sure that’s what you really want?” Sly’s grin grows and grows and grows. “Cause it seemed to me like you were kind of into it. The risk of getting caught is awfully addictive, isn’t it?”

She can’t even argue; the thrill in her core over what they were doing is still making her heart want to beat out of her chest. Carmelita crosses her arms and huffs, then stops as an idea pops into her head. Her own crafty smile begins creeping across her mouth.

“I suppose it might be,” she gives a fake admission, “but I’m going to need more evidence to be sure.”

His eyes flash with impulse and passion. “Oh, yeah? Can I help you gather that evidence?”

“Perhaps…” The fox taps a finger to her upturned lips. “But to do that, we’re going to have to find out when that conference is being held, first.”

It takes a moment for her meaning to set in, but oh, the delight in his gaze when it does. Sly crosses the room in two strides and pulls her in for another kiss, and she returns it with zest. Later, she will decide whether this idea is one she’s shameless enough to go through with – but not now.

Right now, she has a raccoon in her arms and a thousand kisses to make up for, and that’s all that matters.

[nomsthecat]

BREAKS INTO YOUR INBOX-- hello there :D

i suggest 12: candles, 16: in dreams, and 46: shimmer. you can use 1, two, or all three! leaves through the me shaped hole i've left

oooo finally answers this because it’s late at night and that’s when I write best :sun thumbs up:

be warned of angst

muhahaha. I’m so evil (also I don’t know the word count and too tired to check soz)

A flickering sea of candles surrounds you, and this little circular clearing you happen to be standing in. You can’t tell what the ground was made of, (if it was even there,) but the sky above shimmers with twinkling pinpricks of dazzling light. A constellation of stars that seems to reflect the candlelight.

The candles go on forever, eventually becoming nothing but blackened mist that twists and turns and eats the worn down wax like a life no longer lived. Maybe that was what the candles meant.

Life.

You would smile, you would be amazed at this once in a lifetime view, if only the weight in your stomach and the fogginess that make up your fragile consciousness didn’t nag at you.

If only it wasn’t telling you that this wasn’t right. You’re not supposed to be happy.

They’re supposed to be dead.

You can’t be happy like this. The one you looked at so fondly— (the ones you looked at so fondly you should say,) with warm colors of tan, yellow, oranges and reds… a perfect resemblance of the sun with triangular rays decorating a circular face, and then he, with shades of blues, silver, white and bright yellow, patterned with stars and the waning crescent of the moon. One meant to play, one meant to sleep, both meant to act.

Neither meant to live.

You reach out for what isn’t there. To cup the side of a circular face and to smile so softly at them, to let them know you’re here for them. You weren’t.

You weren’t there for them when the building was sent aflame, when the floor caved and when they were abandoned. Ruined.

You went back for them, you did- you tried.

They were left on the floor. A caretaker with none to care for and none to seek care from.

And now they stand before you. You reached out for what wasn’t there, and they reached back.

Cold metal hands you cannot feel cradle your hand close, against their irreparable chassis and close to where would have been a heart, should they have had one. A face unmistakable to you, crowned with both rays and a night cap outdated for this era. Both are just as broken as the other.

But oh.

His smile. A smile that you saw often, ever unmoving but filled with such emotion, now torn in half just like the rest of his face. One eye the color of marigold, and the other a burning red, but both look at you with a plead. With hope. With grief and loss.

You’re supposed to be dead. you could’ve whispered, but find yourself incapable to speak with them. And you find your hand reluctantly released from their caring hold, where instead they now hold a candle.

Just like the many that surround you, that envelop the rolling hills made of nothing in this moment that could be described as everything. But this candle. This candle with the wax nearly gone and the wick burned black till there was nothing more. There is no flame to burn because there is nothing.

They died in that fire.

They died in that fire and this is their goodbye.

A gentle weight is placed on top of your head. An animatronic leans over you, the candle gone and replaced with your hands.

You didn’t deserve their grief, you didn’t deserve to cry. So why do they hold you so close, and why do these tears fall?

.

.

.

You wake up.

Thank you puff for your lovely prompts I wave goodbye before putting plastic wrap over the you shaped hole in my inbox for when you next decide to visit<3 (prank em’ john/ref/silly)

[aboutanancientenquiry]

Another review of the book of Christopher Pelling Herodotus and the Question Why

"2021

Review of "Herodotus and the Question Why," written by Christopher Pelling

Joel A. Schlosser

Christopher Pelling, (2019) Herodotus and the Question Why. Austin: University of Texas Press. xv + 360 pp. $55.00. ISBN 9781477318324 (hbk).

‘Does Herodotus think democracy a good thing?’ Christopher Pelling asks toward the end of his erudite and wide-ranging Herodotus and the Question Why. ‘The answer surely will be “yes and no”’ (p. 234). Freedom and democracy often lead to disturbing consequences as well as inspiring ones; Herodotus praises nothing without also revealing, sometimes subtly, its potential downsides. Strengths and weaknesses go closely together, both building and then imperiling greatness. Herodotus’ ability to hold these opposing interpretations together is not, Pelling asserts, an incoherence of thought. It is just a paradox.

Summoning many decades of inquiries into Herodotus (and citing 35 of his own articles, chapters, and books on the subject), Pelling centers the work of explanation in his study of Herodotus. Explanation appears as one of the motivations for the Histories themselves, which Herodotus describes (in Pelling’s translation) as ‘why they [sc. the Greeks and the barbarians] came to war with one another’ (p. 22). Explanation hopes to ‘make something more understandable’ (p. 5) and Pelling untangles the many skeins of explanation that Herodotus offers in the early books of the Histories: aiti- words that focus on blameworthiness or charges of malfeasance; prophasis, which Herodotus uses like Thucydides to describe an explanatory account put forward by an interested party; and proschêma, which describes a pretext or rationalization––not the true cause but a supposed one. Herodotus also employs stories for the sake of explanation, letting audiences draw their own inferences from recurrent patterns or suggestive narratives. Explanation, Pelling observes, ‘is a game for two’: explanatory success depends on an audience’s uptake. Herodotus’ preferred modes of explanation say a lot about who he took his audience to be and his variety of explanatory strategies suggests the different forms of persuasion current in his day.

But explanation comes with closure, and Herodotus’ Histories seem to resist closure at every turn. Herodotus and the Question Why expands the very idea of explanation early in its argument, opening it like a folded envelope to reveal the letter within. Herodotus does not just explain; he shows his readers how you could possibly know anything. He shows his own ‘rethinking in stride’ (p. 93)––one wonderful formulation among many in this volume––reworking patterns and complicating seemingly simply explanations as he goes. Pelling sees an affinity here with the Hippocratics, who developed ‘corroborative argument’ (p. 88) as well as such revisions, either finding support for initial hypotheses or revising their hypotheses when they discovered contrary evidence. Herodotus, for example, begins his description of the Egyptians by asserting that their way of life inverts that of the Greeks. ‘When the topsy-turvy idea returns’, Pelling writes, Herodotus has revised the ‘attention-grabbing initial strong proposition’ (p. 90), writing that the Egyptians ‘avoid using Greek customs and, so to speak, those of any other peoples’ (2.91), a phrase that leaves the possibility of similarities open.

As the narrative of the Histories unfurls, the predictability that explanations would seem to promise––e.g. that x phenomenon will lead to y consequence––becomes less clear cut. Aitia begins to appear ambiguous. Herodotus’ language of wonders (thômata) reflects his increasing awareness of unpredictable and inexplicable phenomena in the world he encounters. Modern historians worry about overdetermined events––what social scientists call ‘endogeneity problems’––but the language of wonder often evokes the opposite: underdetermined phenomena that seem enormously important yet stun and bemuse the inquirer. Wonders are things and events that resist explanation.

When Pelling turns to the actual sequence of events of the Histories––which he loosely follows in the latter two-thirds of the book––these framing thoughts on explanation allow for an expansive expatiation of Herodotus’ stories. While many interpretations leap on the pattern of expansionism and self-destruction that begins in Book I and shapes the narrative of the Persians’ invasions in the books that follow, Pelling sounds the many dissonant notes to this over-simple account. For one, the Greeks do a lot to bring the war with the Persians on themselves––meddling at the court, caring more about their own petty factionalism, and being sucked into aggressive behavior, such as when the Athenians are persuaded by Aristagoras to join the Ionian revolt from Persian control (5.97). More broadly, claims about blame and vengeance are ‘displaced from their natural place and placed in mouths where they ring false’ (p. 127). The stories of the Persians raise questions about how much they really differ from their Greek enemies. These stories are redolent with an ‘un-Greek’ atmosphere, yet while Cambyses behaves with ‘brutal insensitivity’, when Darius later asks Indians and Greeks about how they would treat the bodies of their dead fathers, the Greeks’ horror at the Indians’ response––that they would eat them––resembles Cambyses’ prejudicial judgment, while Darius exemplifies open-minded understanding.

Pelling’s own sensitivity to nuance and paradox in the Histories culminates in his approach to the treatment of the Greeks’ victory and especially the tendency among many readers of Herodotus to explain the triumph as one of Greek values––embodied by democracy or freedom or ‘civilization’––over Persian ones. Pelling grants that this story has some basis in Herodotus – Herodotus comments that isêgoria in Athens prompted her rise to greatness (5.78), and the Spartan Demaratus explains that it is the nomos of freedom that empowers the Greeks to fight (7.104). There are reasons to believe the Greeks’ triumph was of their own making. Pelling impersonates these moments of Greek pride when he asks: ‘Aren’t we simply better than them, and isn’t that explanation enough?’ (p. 167)

Such a rhetorical question may have satisfied many of Herodotus’ early auditors, but it did not stop Herodotus from further inquiry. For one, Herodotus’ sense of contingency qualifies any explanation: ‘Time and again, it could easily have been different’, Pelling observes (p. 167). Even with this qualification, no single explanatory variable––such as the Greeks’ being ‘better’––can suffice. In a rather un-Herodotean systematic survey, Pelling lays out the inadequacy of any simple explanation for the Greek victory: neither the gods nor ‘Greek values’ nor Greek strategies and tactics nor freedom nor democracy provides sufficient explanation. Unlike Thucydides, Herodotus does not appear interested in adducing a single set of causes. Peeling back the layers of Herodotus’ explanations, one never reaches the pith.

Yet each layer of explanation is distinct from the others. In this way, Herodotus is helpful for resisting the modern tendency toward conflating democracy and freedom. On his account, the Persians are free, but so are the Spartans, the Scythians, and the Athenians. Yet among these, only the Athenians have a democracy––and their democracy does not exist for the entirety of the Histories. Freedom may provide the rallying cry for the allied Greeks against the Persian invasion, but Herodotus has already staged a similar moment when Cyrus rallies the Persians against the Lydians on the grounds of freedom [my aboutanancientenquiry's remark: this is obviously a lapsus and the author means the Medes of Astyages, as it becomes clear later in the text]. Democracy is not necessary for freedom.

Nor is democracy sufficient for freedom. Democracy does play a powerful role at certain moments of the Histories, but its influence can also lead to ambivalent consequences. Pelling points out how democratic slogans in Ionia prompted revolts that then laid the groundwork for new forms of tyranny. The equal speaking for which democracy became notorious could get out of hand. Pelling describes how the Greek debate before the Battle of Salamis was a mess, a ‘great pushing and shoving of words’ during which Herodotus shows, on Pelling’s reading, that ‘the Greeks are wasting their bellicosity’ with endless vociferation (p. 184).

Demokratia, for which Herodotus is the earliest source, was not yet a laudatory word in the late 5th century when Herodotus was composing his inquiries. Herodotus often employs periphrastics such as the series of iso- related words––isonomia, isokratia, and isêgoria––that surface from the mouths of quite unlikely sources (like Otanes, the Persian nobleman) as well as quite undemocratic regimes (like the Spartans and the Corinthians). Pelling notes that isonomia is ‘never used pejoratively’, perhaps suggesting Herodotus’ affinities with the tyrant-slayers Aristogeiton and Harmodius who ‘made Athens isonomoi’ (p. 194). Yet while democracy ‘glistens’ for modern readers (p. 195), Herodotus does not shirk from casting shade.

Pelling casts doubt on a reading of Herodotus that celebrates the triumph of the people (dêmos). More often than he speaks of the dêmos, Herodotus describes groups of people––the Athenians, the Spartans, and the Persians. Yet even more often than this, Herodotus focuses his narrative on what Pelling calls the ‘big man antagonisms’, the vying of leaders of these groups of people. ‘It is as a tool’ of such antagonisms, Pelling asserts, ‘that the dêmos comes into play with Cleisthenes’ (p. 196). Cleisthenes’ engagement with Isagoras led him to ‘recruit the dêmos to his faction’ (translating Herodotus 5.66.2). The Spartans later complain of the ‘ungrateful demos’ (5.91) that threw off their protection, but as Pelling points out, the subsequent debate concerns not democracy but the broader conflict between tyranny and freedom.

Democracy, according to Pelling, ‘allows for a prism for seeing freedom pushed to the limit’, functioning as an inverse image of tyranny as a prism for seeing people ‘at the mercy of unrestrained power’ (p. 197). Here I wonder if Pelling too quickly assimilates the democracy of the Athenians with democracy in general and loses Herodotus’ appreciation for the wide variety of ways in which the people can create and lose power. Take, for example, the episode when Cyrus leads the Persians to revolt against Astyages. Pelling mentions the passage where Herodotus describes how ‘they’––the Persians––‘cast off the yoke of slavery and became free men’ (1.95), but he places this in the larger context of ‘big man’ accomplishments. I would instead interpret Herodotus here as anticipating his description of the strength of the Athenians, whose liberation was also a collective act (5.78). When Cyrus later calls on the Persians to free themselves from slavery, Herodotus relates how ‘they enthusiastically went about gaining their independence’ (1.128). Yes, Darius’ father Hystaspes describes Cyrus as having made the Persians free, but this does not come in the narrator’s own voice. So too with Darius’ later argument that disavows the importance of the dêmos for freeing the Persians. When Herodotus describes the event independent of a particular character, it has much more of a popular flavor. The Persians themselves act as rulers; they affirm their power to create their freedom.

Athenian democracy may not be as ‘special’ (p. 207) for Herodotus as 21st century readers, myself included, tend to make it, but Pelling’s insistence on this point risks glossing the nuances among different formations of collective power that appear across the Histories. Dêmokratia, as Pelling points out, does not receive systematic treatment by Herodotus. Tyranny and freedom, however, do. I would suggest that Herodotus’ attention to how different peoples create, sustain, and fail to maintain collective power through nomoi illuminates an underlying counterpoint to the ‘big man’ narratives he also loves to tell. Winning freedom may depend on a leader, but its sustenance requires that the collective wean itself from such dependence. Themistocles gives good advice about how the ‘wall of wood’ refers to a fleet ready for battle at sea, but the Athenians decide to follow this advice. The collectivity holds the power and they are, after all, the ones who win the battle itself.

That said, the paradox to which Pelling returns readers of the Histories remains: Herodotus proposes no definitive set of nomoi––culture, customs, or laws––that can guarantee the perdurance of freedom won by collective power. So ‘yes and no’ to democracy but also ‘yes and no’ to Spartan isokratia or Ionian isonomia. And ‘yes and no’ to each of the politeiai that Herodotus introduces across the course of his inquiry. As Pelling demonstrates, Herodotus brings readers to appreciate this paradox through his wonderful summoning of myriad causes, explanations, stories, and human and nonhuman actors. By doing so, Herodotus equips us to understand and appreciate the dynamic nature of things, illuminating the reasons for both ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Herodotus and the Question Why opens such a reading of Herodotus with skill and intelligence. About the book, then, one can declare with confidence a resounding ‘yes’.

Joel Alden Schlosser Bryn Mawr College jschlosser@brynmawr.edu"

[rosietrace]

Marry me pleek

Event: Rosie's valentines special 💌❣️

Ocs featured: Clarkson Monroe, Madam Mary Monroe, Sunako Hiyama(@sakuramidnight15), Meryl Hollow(briefly mentioned)

Ship: Clarkson Monroe x Sunako Hiyama

Summary: Marriage and an anxiety-filled Clark. Not a good look until he asked the question in person.

Warning(s): Potential ooc moments, Clark being a little shit

{ Apologies for any out of character moments }

[ Reblogs are recommended/encouraged ]

Listen.

Clark was abysmally in love with Sunako. If he wasn't immortal, he'd love her till the day he died and would do anything in order to keep her close. To hold her close.

So why was he so caught up in his inventions lately? As far as his cousin, madam Monroe, was concerned, there wasn't any friction between the two of them that could cause Clark to distance himself from Sunako.

Hell, Madam Monroe would go as far as to claim that Clark would just bicker with Sunako until he was ready to genuinely reach out to her.

Sure their relationship was rather rocky before anything romantic flourished, but it was each other's cunning that drew one to the other. And Marylin would have to applaud Clark for being able to pull it off so well.

Speaking of which, Madam Monroe was standing in front of the door to Clark's laboratory. Sighing, she knocked in three different patterns. All of which would signify that it was her who was knocking.

After a couple of moments with seemingly no response, Clark opened the door and begrudgingly allowed his cousin to enter his lab.

"What are you doing…" She allowed her question to trail off, eyeing the laboratory with intent. Nothing seemed to be out of place, although Clark's anxiety-filled expression told a completely different story.

Clark hummed in response, "What are you doing here, Mary?" He questioned, filled with suspicion.

She answered with a tone that was just as filled with suspicion as his own."I could ask you the same thing, Clarkson."

Clark shuddered at the mention of his full name before facing his cousin directly."Just answer the question, Mary." He crossed his arms.

Madam Monroe fought the urge to snort, seeing Clark's small frame mixed with a relatively broad sort of build amused her of sorts.

"Is it wrong for me to visit my dearest darling-est cousin during an hour of need?"

"When the hell have you ever said shit like that."

Madam Monroe gasped, albeit a little dramatically."Clarkson…. Meryl could be in this room, y'know." She commented.

Upon hearing her words, Clark panicked before frantically looking around the room for the young girl he'd prevent himself from swearing in front of.

But then he realized that she was probably just messing with him, and quickly sent her a scowl followed by an unseemly hand gesture.

Madam Monroe fought back her urges, but she ended up giving up and started laughing profusely at her cousin."It was so obvious that she wasn't in the room! Honestly, Clark, what's gotten you so paranoid all of a sudden?"

Clark's eyes widened before he, ever so hesitantly, picked up a small box.

It didn't take long for the realization to hit Marylin, beautiful Marylin, to realize what was inside that box.

"Clark…. Don't tell me-"

"Yup. I'm gonna do it… I'm gonna propose to her."

Madam Monroe inhaled sharply, unaware of how Sunako would react to such a proposal. But that wasn't her main priority at the moment.

What was her main priority at that moment was what kind of ring Clark got for Sunako. And based on the increasing rate of random explosions in his lab, she was sure that it was a ring of his own making.

Madam Monroe placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. The look in her eyes suggested to Clark that she most definitely wanted to see what kind of ring he got for his Sunako.

His darling, deadly, Sunako.

When he opened the small velvet box, his cousin audibly gasped at the sight before her.

The ring was practically a kaleidoscope. She could never figure out if it was gold, silver, or bronze. And she could barely figure out what kind of gemstone was atop of the ring.

It was beautiful. Something that she knew Clark would make for someone.

That someone is Sunako.

"Clark….. This ring is lovely." She smiled fondly, eyes softening as she eyed the ring with deep intent.

Clark blushed at the thought of Sunako wearing it, but closed the box and rested it on top of his table."Yeah, thanks. But…." He cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward.

"Well- Mary- Can I ask you something?"

"Hm? Of course, what is it?"

"...... Do you think she'll say yes?"

That…. That was a question Marylin almost didn't know the answer to. She felt unsure of how she should respond.

But in the end, she rested her arm on Clark's broad shoulders, an assuring smile on her freckled face.

"I may not know the answer to that, but I do not doubt in my mind that Sunako loves you enough to likely say yes."

♝•°•══════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══════•°•♝

Sunako was alone in the training area in HSA, far too busy trying to challenge her own physical capabilities to even notice Clark enter the room.

He snorted quietly, finding it attractive how intent she is on proving a point. How precise her movements are, not to mention how incredible she looked while performing them.

When he whistled out for her, Sunako stopped in her tracks and slowly faced the direction where Clark was. Right in front of the doors of the training area.

Sunako pursed her lips, slowly walking up to her benevolent inventor of a lover."Clark…" was what she first said.

He grinned, but his smile didn't reach his eyes."Heh. Good to see you too, Sunako." Clark crossed his arms with a delightful little grin on his face.

Behind her blindfold, Sunako narrowed her eyes. She put her hand on her waist, a daunting look of suspicion painted all over her blindfolded face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Aww, is it wrong of me to visit my most beautiful girlfriend who can and absolutely will beat my ass whenever she's given the cha-"

"Just get to the point."

Clark's smile never wavered, yet Sunako still noticed that it never quite reached his eyes."Just came to spar. Kind of wanted to work on my physical capabilities in combat."

Well, that was a bald-faced lie, Sunako likely thought. But either way, she knew that she probably wasn't going to get an answer out of Clark if she asked.

So she simply reluctantly nodded and walked back to the place she had been sparring in.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Clark took off his jacket, smirking deviously."You sure as hell I am." He replied coyly.

She rolled her eyes behind her blindfold before she began lunging at him with incredible speed.

Luckily for Clark, he was just as fast as Sunako and was able to dodge quite a number of her precise attacks. Quite a surprise until you remember that they likely learned from each other.

In the middle of the session, Clark tackled Sunako to the ground.

She groaned, jaw clenched."What was that for?" She questioned, visibly annoyed.

Clark, unlike his dutiful pioneer of a cousin, didn't fight back the urge to snort. Let alone at Sunako.

"You haven't felt the odd texture on your middle finger yet, have you?"

"What odd text-" Sunako stiffened once she felt the ring with her bare, calloused fingers.

She went dead silent. More silent than she'd ever been. And that scared Clark.

But that wasn't enough to stop him from asking the question.

"Sunako Hiyama….. For the time I have known you, I'm very much aware that despite my continuous annoyance, you are secretly attached to me."

She didn't know if she was going to like where this conversation was headed.

"And, admittedly, I was batshit scared of you. But that was in the past, just like this moment will be when I ask this question."

Sunako came to a realization seconds before he even asked the question.

Clark felt tears at the brim of his eyes, fearful of how she'd respond.

"Sunako….. My beautiful Sunako…. Will you marry me?"

Sunako sat up, remaining silent and leaving Clark anticipating utter rejection from her.

But then she leaned her forehead against his own, wiping away whatever tears were on his face.

".... Yes."

Taglist: [ I would like to hear your thoughts, if possible! ]

@starry-night-rose @windbornearchon @nem0-nee @authoruio @fumikomiyasaki @oseathepebble @geminiiviolets @celiica @terrovaniadorm @twsted-princess

For: @sakuramidnight15 !

Hi Sakura ^^ I hope you liked this oneshot. Thankfully, I managed to post this oneshot before white day o-(-<

A miracle, I know, but still, I digress. I also hope that I did justice to Sunako's character, especially since I haven't written anything related to her in a while

But either way, I hope you enjoy(ed) this oneshot, Sakura!

[mitigatedchaos]

[ @arcticdementor ]

I still think you're way too bullish on "the power of artificial intelligence, as well as prospects for genetic engineering" — particularly mass affordability (if everything always gets cheaper forever, why hasn't the Concorde become affordable yet?) — which mostly weakens the following arguments in my eyes. What if you're wrong about their impact in the coming decades? And I still don't get why people should get on board with building a "better replacement" for the current Left. You probably won't agree, but there's already a better alternative to the Left — it's called the Right. To put my point more bluntly, why should those of us on the Right let the Left try to recover, in the ways you outline, as opposed to seizing this moment to build momentum against it, and push as far as we can for the goal of eliminating the Left and achieving Total Reactionary Victory?

I don't expect you, specifically, to engage in the project of arranging for the emergence of a left coalition leader who can discipline the coalition and thereby achieve a peace deal, AD.

Left vs right is partly about the optimization level. The left-wing pushes for a reduced optimization level (in theory; they may just shift competition to the social/political realm). The right-wing pushes for an increased optimization level.

If the optimization level falls too low, then capital stocks will decline, overall production will fall, the system will become fragile, and standards of living (such as not dying from preventable diseases) will fall.

If the optimization level becomes very high, then every single person on Earth has to spend all of their time and resources fighting to survive, even though the production level may be very high.

Isn't that, you know, dumb?

What, exactly, is the benefit of that? Bigger pyramids? Moon colonies? What even is the point of building a Moon colony if you can't even enjoy it?

To think in more utilitarian terms, we could divide the level of optimization by the moral price required to produce it. Eventually, the marginal value contributed by the additional production produced at a higher optimization level will no longer exceed the moral price required to achieve it.

Technological advances and social technologies may reduce moral prices.

And generally, it's better to handle things at one or more removes, to manage uncertainty, preserve human dimensionality, and reduce the level of nihilism involved in policy. Morality being a means for cooperation, it's a better way to cooperate, but it's also the right thing to do.

What you're proposing is that there is effectively an optimization ceiling, such that it's effectively impossible to optimize beyond a certain amount, and thus the maximum moral price is effectively capped.

However, if I remember correctly, you're an atheist. So the two questions are, first, "Just how exhaustively has biological evolution searched the pattern space?" and, second, "Just how much scientific progress can humanity make this century?"

If the answer to the first question is "quite exhaustively," then there's nothing to worry about. However, in a world without a deity balancing things, it seems questionable that the share of the patternspace occupied by detailed, high-energy-input, capital-intensive-reproduction systems has been very thoroughly explored by Earth's low-energy-density ecosystems.

If the answer to the first question is "not very exhaustively," then "nothing ever happens" can still be maintained by proposing, "however, human society's ability to search the patternspace is very limited, so it's unlikely that they'll stumble upon anything truly dangerous in the next 20-30 years."

In that case, you're suggesting that someone like you might switch later, after 20-30 years, if a more dangerous or aggressive replicator pattern appears.

Given the amount of change between AI in 2005 and AI in 2025, and between genetic engineering in 2005 and genetic engineering in 2025, I think it's unreasonable to clip not only tail risks but also societal reorganization (with widespread unemployment) risks out of the projection window.

If there is absolutely no more progress whatsoever on either technology by 2045, then I can just change positions in the future.

[junkyarddogjyd]

[Intro Post]

The name’s Scott, freshly 24, and I’m from the great region of Kanto.

Moved to Hoenn on a business proposal but I feel that this transfer is permanent, not that I’m complaining as Kanto is staggeringly large in comparison. Something that I wasn’t too fond of. If you’re wondering about my job, I work remotely for INTERPOL. Serious work, I know. Nobody wants an unsafe neighborhood; my department deals with “underground Pokémon fighting rings,” we help unravel the heads behind these illicit crime syndicates. I won’t talk about my work much as it’s very heavy hitting material and I’d much rather lighten the mood than soak it all out like a sponge.

I prefer my tranquil peace and solidarity which is why I moved a bit further than one-klick west of Littleroot into a tidy log cabin stationed in the forest. In the two months I’ve been here, there has been several running-water issues that’s likely due to my friend Bruce, (my Sharpedo buddy), constantly banging on the enclosure when it’s almost feeding time.

Speaking of pals, here are the friends I’ve made and taken along my voyage:

“J.Y.D.” : This little fella is the Houndoom I adopted back in my hometown of Kanto when I was 19. We crossed paths when our group was busting one of the largest rings we’ve ever seen. She was shaken up for sure but wouldn’t let go of my pant legs! We took her and the other mistreated Pokémon to a professional care center and when that was all cleaned up, the higher-ups had to figure out ways to get them back to their original regions. To make our adjacent department’s job a little easier, instead of sending her back to Johto, I did the responsible thing and took care of her myself in my apartment. Saying that was a challenge would be a massive understatement. She would obliterate any couch she touched and destroy my rugs till there was nothing left; I’ve never seen such a playful Dark type before. There wouldn’t be a day that went by where she didn’t get her horns stuck. She was my first ever Pokémon while on my own and I can’t say I regret any of it.

Bruce : Moving into Hoenn was difficult, all of my colleagues weren’t minutes away, it was just JYD and I versus the world. That lasted about a day. Settling into my cabin took all of 4 hours with the minimal packing I had to do which meant that I could take a drive and relax by the coast, something child-me dreamed of doing. While there, I couldn’t help but notice the same Sharpedo swimming in what seemed to be a triangle-esque pattern. After getting closer, it started to breach the water bobbing up and down repeatedly. As a kind gesture for the show, I chucked a piece of raw fish its way. Now for the past 2 weeks, I’ve been coming to the same dock and feeding Bruce. Even though he’s not my Pokémon, I named it and try to see Bruce everyday. Hopefully one day I can build a substantially large aquatic aquarium and take care of Bruce one-on-one.

Rayquaza : The only work I have is online reports for the time being, meaning that I have a lot of free-time on my hands. One of my favorite things to do is hike here. After my third trip to the Hoenn Peak my 10th day here, I met a wild Rayquaza. Thankfully they’re naturally peaceful creatures as seeing that lanky, slender, snake-like body wrap around a tree and reveal its enormous body right in front of my eyes nearly had me dart to my car! Even though it’s stated that they tend to “stick to their own lane,” this one allowed me to pet its underbelly. It followed me all the way back to my cabin and is now resting on my porch, completely crushing my 2nd favorite rocking chair. At this moment I have no clue what to name them and would gladly take suggestions!

I’m always looking for new people to meet since I’m starting my blank slate in Hoenn. I do lots of hikes and lumber work in my free-time so if you ever need a new fence built, or in my case, a new rocking chair, be sure to reach out! I’m mostly friendly and don’t quite have a routine set up yet. I keep my circle of people small but that’s something I should work on, especially with how tight-knit everyone in this region seems. It would do me more good than harm.

//OOC — this is my first time doing something like this and would appreciate any kind words sent my way! I have a little story drawn up in my head and can’t wait to take those around my blog with me. Thanks again for taking the time to read this and if you have, let me know :D be sure to have a great day!

[nothingunrealistic]

review roundup: billions 7x07 “dmv”

a week for philip to shine! even though he did so by having a terrible time throughout! what did reviewers think?

New York Times: ‘Billions’ Season 7, Episode 7 Recap: The Way of the Ocean

Well, that was a nasty bit of business. One of the best episodes of “Billions” in recent memory,

agreed, tbh.

Philip gets a turn in the spotlight this week when he reels in Prince Cap’s latest whale: bioengineered, self-repairing concrete, invented by one of his mentors in college, Dr. Mike Rulov (Timothy Busfield).

that is not how you spell marc ruloff’s name. check imdb, my man!

With the legal and financial resources of one of the smaller G7 nations, Prince would make the new concrete a bigger deal than Rulov could, even with his own high-rollers backing him. But there was clearly no chance of such a sale, even before Prince started making veiled threats.

and prince started making those threats pretty early!

If Rulov cares about the concrete so much, Prince reasons, then tying it up in litigation for years will force him to sell because of his simple but irresistible desire to see his creation out in the world. Not that Mike is in any hurry for that to happen, even if he wins the fight: At the suggestion of the increasingly sinister Kate Sacker, he considers keeping the technology under wraps until he can roll it out as part of his 2028 re-election campaign. Such is the transactional nature of Mike’s do-gooding at this point. Desperate, Philip turns to Wendy — not for her advice, although that’s the front he puts up, but rather for her connection to Chuck. He knows that if he tells her the whole story, she will reach out to her ex, who will see an opportunity to stick it to Prince. But Philip’s hope that Chuck can shut down the entire patent-sharking sector is a pipe dream. All Chuck can do is have a friend at the Defense Department classify the patent as a matter of national security, seize Rulov’s efforts, and prevent either man from being the sole controller of such an important invention. Of course, the government will most likely sit on it forever, benefiting no one. But if that’s what it takes to stop Prince from getting his hands on this potential game-changer, so be it.

two objections to this description of events:

sacker’s suggestion to keep the concrete technology classified until it’s time for prince's 2028 campaign comes after it’s been classified by the department of defense, not before, as is suggested by the order in which those scenes are summarized.

presenting philip going to wendy as if he thought of it himself, rather than it being at taylor’s advice (at least to some extent), obfuscates taylor’s role in putting philip in a position where he’d want to act against prince.

Even after this debacle, Philip still wants nothing to do with the plot against Prince, the existence of which Wendy intimates to him after many a knowing glance between herself and Taylor. Philip storms out of her office, all but yelling, “Deniability! Deniability!” with his fingers in his ears.

and his ability to identify wendy and taylor but not wags as part of the plan is why taylor’s role in his plotline matters!

Banding together, they elect Victor and Rian to tell the committee Mike assembles to take his place — Wags, Scooter, Taylor and Philip — that they reject the committee’s authority to conduct the reviews. They pitch postponing them for a year and detaching their annual comp from the review process in the meantime. Mike caves and even throws them a gala casino night as a morale-building exercise. Or so it seems. In reality, he and Scooter have colluded to have the whole evening recorded, employing the real-life poker ace Vanessa Selbst to analyze their behavior and risk patterns — a performance review without the consent of the performers.

another strange description of events — this time implying that prince had any role at all in the casino night / performance review other than “i’m recusing myself. wags and scooter, you do it” and then fucking off to ruin ruloff’s life. he didn’t! there’s no proof he even knows the casino night happened!

Which members of the Prince Cap Movie Night crew understand that “The Wolf of Wall Street” is intended as a cautionary tale rather than a how-to manual? According to Wags, they are Kate, Victor, and Rian — not that it has stopped any of the three from acting rather wolfish.

lol. lmao, even.

Normally I’d come down pretty hard on a needle drop as narratively obvious as playing R.E.M.’s “Drive” after a kid passes his driving test, but I’m choosing to believe the song was chosen not for its title but for its somber tone, reflective of the mood of the rest of the episode. Otherwise, “I Can’t Drive 55” by Sammy Hagar was sitting right there.

you expect brian koppelman, known van hagar hater, to put a sammy hagar song in an episode of billions? in the crucial closing slot, no less? i think not!

Vulture: Billions Recap: Leave It to Senior

another four-star review! significantly more justified this time!

I’ve always believed in the “less is more” adage, and even though it took half a season, Billions finally got that memo this week. After last week’s plotline-packed extravaganza, co-creators Brian Koppelman and David Levien gave their audience a much-needed breather with the stripped-down “DMV.” By simplifying the narrative, the result was Billions’ strongest season-seven episode yet.

i think 7x05 is up there also, but of course i’m biased.

As Mike Prince continues to propel himself onto the political stage, we’re now looking at a potential alliance between Chuck and Wendy. But more importantly, we’re seeing more cracks in Prince’s inner circle — namely, with the billionaire’s protégé (and Scooter’s nephew), Philip Charyn.

and i love that for us!

“DMV” was also an unexpected treat because Jeffrey DeMunn got to double down on the hilariously vile Charles Rhoades Sr. character, and we, the audience, benefited immensely from his performance.

that, not so much.

Over at Michael Prince Capital, Philip has connected his former Stanford professor, Dr. Mark Ruloff (Timothy Busfield!), with his billionaire boss.

closer, but still not the right spelling of marc ruloff!

Except Ruloff isn’t selling, and he’s not budging on this decision. Neither is Prince. “Fins up,” he tells Philip, who’s now caught in an awkward position between his college mentor and his workplace mentor.

no, “fins up” was prince’s instruction to sacker, to get started on the patent sharking. philip just happened to be in the room and remember its significance later.

Okay, we all know that Chuck and Wendy are hardly parents of the year. But for Senior to present himself as the only one willing to “risk life and liberty on his [grandchildren’s] behalf” is, to use a word from Senior’s generation, a load of malarkey.

honestly! i still remember the scene in which senior gave kevin a slinky for his birthday and told chuck & wendy that if he was still playing with it the next day, they should focus all their attention and energy on eva instead. that’s not a man that cares about the wellbeing of all his grandchildren equally!

Ruloff is in a sour mood because Philip’s “good guy” Prince has begun buying rival patents. This is a problem because — thank you, expository dialogue! — now Ruloff, just by doing his own work, could be seen as infringing upon Prince-owned patents.

the exposition in that moment did feel exceptionally clunky, lol. but i guess it works from the angle of “ruloff is explaining this to philip in an overly didactic manner because he’s mad that philip was so naïve as to not see it coming. and also the whole former professor thing.”

Philip, who has been slowly morphing into season-four Taylor Mason, with his soul up for grabs, then receives a stern, albeit familiar warning from Ruloff: Get away from MPC while you still have a modicum of self-respect.

what did i say about philip’s plotline here running parallel to several of taylor’s past subplots!! 2x11 and 3x10 and 4x07! (that link is to the 4x07 recap, not incidentally.)

Taylor notices Philip’s inner turmoil and promptly sends him to Wendy to unload. While we don’t see the details of their session, it’s not necessary. All we need to know is that Philip’s cry for help is the incentive for Chuck and Wendy’s burgeoning alliance against Mike Prince.

do you have anything else you want to say about that interaction between taylor and philip? maybe something about how it relates to taylor in season 4, as you were just talking about one paragraph ago? possibly based on a comparison that taylor themself draws during that conversation? no? okay then.

And Prince’s shark attacks just get more and more brazen. First, he buys the biotech firm that creates the indispensable enzyme for Ruloff’s process.

well, he tried to buy the biotech firm. he didn’t succeed.

Prince is totally fine with undermining Ruloff with his endless supply of cash: Philip, who knows Ruloff best, assured his boss that it’s the professor’s stubborn nature that will ultimately be his downfall. But if you catch the moment the camera falls on Toney Goins’s face throughout Prince’s slow annihilation of Ruloff’s company, it’s impossible to ignore the guilt seeping out of Philip’s pores. Will this be useful to the Fifth Column down the line?

correction: philip tries to convey to prince that everyone will be better off if ruloff is allowed to remain in control of his company, and prince instead takes away the message about ruloff’s stubbornness being his downfall. (this is why you should never share backstories in this show! they’ll always get used against you!) sure also hoping this does eventually put philip on team kill prince, though!

Philip is on to Wendy, noticing that the moment Chuck got involved, the situation with Ruloff got exponentially worse. He knows Wendy and Taylor are organizing a mutiny, and he wants them to leave him out of it. But the way his voice breaks during this scene and his insistence on “complete deniability” suggests a vulnerability that somewhere, deep down, he knows they may be right.

oh absolutely. if he wanted to rat them out, he could! he only needs complete deniability if he expects there to be something for him to deny knowledge of that he can’t or won’t stop before it happens!

Wasn’t Dave Mahar supposed to be leading the case against Mike Prince? Is that still happening?

my best guess is that it Is still happening and that her leadership of the case has pushed chuck out of the inner circle, hence him having nothing to do with the prince case in this episode or the last. (though maybe if philip had given him something illegal on prince, he would have taken it to dave.) this season really hasn’t been giving dave her due as a series regular.

Fan Fun with Damian Lewis (Damianista): Billions on Showtime, Season 7 Episode 7: DMV

Even though the boss recuses himself from rewarding and punishing anyone on the team, the employees are feeling uneasy with the composition of the review panel; e.g.  Scooter, who is not in touch with them at all (they do not even invite him to the movie night because they know he would never show up!) is sitting on the  review committee.

i wish we could have heard any objections they might have had to the other members of the review panel too.

And lo and behold, combining Selbst’s raw research with Prospect Theory (that is my turf!) Wendy has performance reviews for everybody. So what is Prospect Theory? Developed by two economists, Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, and awarded a Nobel Prize in Economics in 2002, Prospect Theory, in a nutshell, says the following. Kahneman and Tversky propose that losses have a greater emotional impact than a gain of the same amount. They argue that, when an individual is presented with choices two ways – both offering the same result—they will pick the option offering perceived gains. Just to give an example: Suppose we have the end result of receiving $25. One option is to give an individual $25 outright. The other option is to give an individual $50 and but then they have to give back $25. The net utility is $25 in both options. According to prospect theory, individuals are most likely to choose to receive straight cash because a single gain is perceived as more favorable than having more cash at the outset but then suffering a loss.

i’m no prospect theory expert, but wouldn’t it be a factor that one of those options only involves one step while the other involves two? i’d think the simpler option would then be preferable. but what if you instead compared receiving $50 and giving back $25 to receiving $30 and giving back $5?

So I understand the reasoning behind the performance reviews conducted at the casino, but I am not confident that an individual’s casino behavior directly translates into their workplace behavior.  Especially when you are encouraged to enjoy the casino experience, you do, and after all, you are playing with your money that when you lose, you lose your own money. However, at the workplace, you are investing someone else’s money, and when you lose, you lose other people’s money which has serious implications. Thus, while there is certainly some correlation between how one behaves at the casino versus at the workplace, one does not directly translate into the other. Because if it does, then how come either Ben Kim or Tuk Lal still keep their jobs at MPC? Oh, and how about Peach winning the big prize? I would not be surprised if she made PM soon!

thank you!!! (and peach, who presumably has no experience or skills in trading equities, winning the night is just further proof that success in one realm doesn’t equate success in the other.)

I find Philip’s words to the professor about the Nobel prize going to the inventor and not the hedge-fund dude extremely naive. I do not think Philip seriously believes in what he is saying and I believe that the professor is quite right when he tells his former student that he is selling his soul to MPC.

well, i’ve said before that philip has a naïve streak, and the way he acts in the sessions with wendy sure suggests he really believed in what he was saying and doing re: ruloff.

Taylor is the one who notices that something is off with Philip. Inspired by Will Guidara‘s best-seller book Unreasonable Hospitality they do not give a hard time to the guy who misses two meetings in a row but asks after their well-being. . Taylor is quite familiar with the emotion / business conflict that Philip is in – they had to break up with Oscar in Season 3 Episode 10 Redemption. It was Wendy who helped Taylor back then so Taylor now encourages Philip to Wendy. But I think Taylor does that also because they feel like the time may be right for Wendy to turn Philip against Prince – which I think will ultimately happen.

again, if you’re gonna make a specific comparison between taylor’s past and philip’s present based on this scene, you should be bringing up their relationship with their father, because that’s the comparison they themself make — and rather than wendy helping back then, she took information confided in her to someone who brought about the downfall of the beloved mentor’s business, as she does here.

I still think Kate is there to take down Prince and she chooses to come across as soulless this season because she plays the game very carefully.

and i still think you’re incorrect about that.

Philip remembers Ruloff’s 1966 emerald-green Karmann Ghia 1300 that he really loved. Those cars were not known for their durability so Ruloff bought a brand new one just for the parts to save the green one! And while a number of people on the Board of Trustees at Stanford wanted to buy his car, Ruloff never sold it. I guess Philip tells Prince this story to argue that the professor is very stubborn and he will not back down but it helps Prince to figure that Ruloff should have a backer at Stanford.

people keep saying this! just because prince takes away “ruloff is too stubborn to back down willingly” from philip’s story doesn’t mean it was The Point philip was trying to make.

And it will not be easy for Philip to recover from this. I think he needs time to digest all that happened but I do think he will ultimately join the  ranks of Wendy, Taylor and Wags against Prince.

hoping for exactly that 🙏🙏🙏

I love the chemistry between Chuck and Wendy more than ever. These two belong together.

hoping against exactly that 🚫🚫🚫

Entertainment Weekly: Billions recap: Morals vs. Business

This week's Billions begins with a little bribery, but it's not from the usual suspects of the business world. Instead, Chuck Sr. is attempting to bribe a driving instructor into giving Kevin a passing grade on his driving test, which he's failed miserably. The bribe doesn't go over well, as the instructor calls the cops, and before long Chuck and Wendy are wrapped up in sorting out the situation and getting Chuck Sr. off the hook with the law.

it is kind of funny to contrast senior’s failed attempt at bribery with all the times people on the finance side have bribed people with ease. maybe it’s only a problem when you go after government officials and don’t have blackmail to back it up?

I've been on record this entire season saying that the whole "Michael Prince is a dangerous fascist" storyline isn't working at all, and while I still think that's true I also think this episode does a good job of putting in some character work to show how some of those closest to Prince could start to turn against him.

my “i don’t think michael prince is a dangerous fascist” t-shirt has people asking a lot of questions already answered by my shirt.

This time around it's Philip. He comes to Prince with a pitch from an old college professor that he considers a mentor. The man's life work has been dedicated to building bio-concrete, which is concrete that can repair itself.  Prince sees how monumental this opportunity is. He wants to buy the whole company, squash any competition, and get it to market. Plus, he can use it as a campaign tool, floating the idea of a slogan like "changing the foundation of America." The professor refuses, but Prince still wants the company. So, he starts "patent sharking," which essentially bogs down the professor's research, making sure that he can't bring his own idea to market. Philip, after talking to Wendy about how he's feeling about Prince's ruthlessness, tries to get Chuck to use his legal magic to stop Prince, but there's not much he can do. In the end, the federal government takes control of the research under the name of national security, the professor's life work is now completely out of his control, and Prince has the potential to use that research to his political advantage once he's in office.

“the professor” is definitely not the correct spelling of marc ruloff!

Fan Fun with Damian Lewis (Gingersnap): The Unbeatable, Unstoppable, Unparalleled MVPs from Billions Season 7 Episode 7, “DMV”

Gingersnap […] Iconic Innuendo – Chuck and his Jaws reference. What better way to put a stop to Patent Sharking than to reel in a Spielbergian. “You’re gonna need a bigger boat!” and that boat’s name is the Department of Defense (DoD). Way to put the kabash on Prince!

so that’s what chuck meant by spielbergian! (that’s not how you spell kibosh, though.)

Food For Thought: Chuck and Wendy. This right here, folks. This. Left me aching for what once was, and yearning for what it could be.

[CROWD BOOING]

Damianista Perfect Chemistry – Chuck and Wendy

[CROWD BOOING]

Most Voldemort-like Move – Mike Prince

i don’t normally say this, but given that this is a repeat offense: READ ANOTHER BOOK.

Lady Trader […] The “Eyes” Have It Award:  Taylor said so much in this episode without saying a word. The looks they give Wendy, Philip, and even Ruloff were speaking volumes. This can only be done because Asia Kate Dillon is amazing.

SO fucking true. if you’re trying to get into my good graces, it’s absolutely working.

The Time Machine Award: The writers are really bringing us back to the first few seasons of Billions in some major and minor ways this season. In this episode, they harken back to S2E3 “Optimal Play” when we  were first introduced to the poker skills of Taylor at the Alpha Cup Charity Poker Tournament.  This time is a full blown Casino Night, and it was just as much fun and telling!

wish this episode had given us more of taylor playing poker, though! (and hey, since we’re talking about it, can you think of any other ties this episode has to earlier seasons? maybe something related to taylor? maybe something they bring up themself? no?)

TheTailThatWagsTheDog Most Reprehensible Person – Chuck Sr – he is on quite the streak here. First he disparages any and all who practice a faith last week, and this week he pulls the “I am better than you peons because I’m rich” schtick.

two equally reprehensible wrongdoings: antitheism and bribery!

Best Poker Game – Craps – thank you Rian and Dollar Bill!  

craps, famously not a poker game or even a card game!

Best Cultural Reference  – Mo Greene – the Godfather. There was a time in the first couple seasons when the writers would regularly quote from one of the greatest movies (and sequels) ever. This was a welcome return.

you know they’ve been referencing the godfather all week every week in the recent seasons too, right? are you enrolled in the lady trader school of watching the show you’re reviewing?

Most Notable Closing Song – Drive by REM. Drive is off their ‘Automatic For the People” album. Brian Koppelman considers this to be their best album. He is a HUGE REM fan so I respect his opinion, but I also respectfully disagree. Life’s Rich Pageant to me is their best work. One of my favorite moments still occurs at the end of Season 2, Episode 3 “Optimal Play”, when Bobby closes with “well it’s a good thing I’m a rich, fucking man” which then leads right into the opening riff of “Begin The Begin”. Just an incredible moment. It also turns out that that was the episode when Taylor showed their prowess in poker. Coincidence???

i do like the R.E.M. connection being made between poker episodes here. though it is kind of funny that they put an R.E.M. song in an episode without axe when he’s the show’s biggest R.E.M. fan.

Last But Not Least – Chuck and Wendy – I am loving how they are drifting toward each other. Please let them reconnect before all is said and done. Of all the tumultuous relationships in this show, this one worked the most and was the most believable for me. Please!!!

[CROWD BOOING]

Fan Fun with Damian Lewis (Lady Trader): “From the Trader’s Desk”: Breakout the Tux, it’s Casino Night! Billions S7E7 “DMV”

From bringing his grandson to the road test in a Jag, to trying to bribe the instructor, Charles just thinks he can do whatever he wants (that is a running theme with the men in this show, isn’t it?).

i mean, it is the People Who Think Rules Don’t Apply To Them show.

I think this whole scenario was a way to lay the groundwork for Chuck and Wendy to “communicate” better, which could lead to them getting back together. And to that I say no, No, NO! They broke up for a reason, and that reason hasn’t gone away. Chuck is still a self-centered, jealous, insecure man.

[APPLAUSE]

Wendy is so much fiercer since she has been unshackled from that dreadful marriage. Let her stand on her own two feet. She has earned it.

*so-so hand gesture*

Also in this process, he is making Philip rethink the idea that Prince is one of the “good guys”. I think Taylor saw this coming and was happy to let it play out this way so they can add another member to the “We Hate Mike Prince” club (by the way, I’m a unofficial member of that club). Taylor pointing Philip in Wendy’s direction was pure manipulation, and it was brilliant. Taylor knows a thing or two about not combining personal emotions with business. I think we all remember what happened to Taylor and their dad in S4, and how that didn’t work out well. In that case, Wendy used Talyor’s feelings for their father against them, whereas know Wendy wants Philip to open up to her so she can use what he tells her against Prince.

finally someone gets it!! and makes the correct connection to taylor’s relationship with their father crumbling in 4x07! (still could be clearer about taylor drawing that connection themself, though.)

Philip tells Wendy he knows what she’s up to, but won’t join the posse, but I have a feeling this affected Philip more than he is letting on, and I’m sure he will step up when it comes time to take Prince down. Philip seems like a good guy, and I think the seed that was planted in his head by Dr. Ruloff about not being happy at MPC will certainly take hold.

we’re hoping 🙏🙏🙏

Watching MPC Casino Night made me happy. I have been to a few Casino Nights at Gotham Hall and they are always a good time.

add that to the “things in billions i didn’t realize were real” list. i could have guessed that casino nights happen but didn’t know gotham hall already regularly held them.

However, as much as seeing the Roulette wheel spin brought a smile to my face, I disagree with the premise that observing people (without their knowledge) gambling their own or the house’s money will give you insight into how they will trade. From my point of view, it’s totally different. When I am at the Blackjack table or the Roulette wheel, I’m playing with my money so I can be a bit more aggressive with my wagering. If I’m playing with money that someone gave me to have a good time with, as the $5K was giving the Prince Cappers, then I’m really going to push my luck. Gambling at a casino or waging on sports is not my job – it’s entertainment. When I’m trading my money or investing for someone else, I’m much more careful and conservative. Is there some overlap of the skills and instincts that go into gambling and trading? Absolutely. Knowing the odds and having a gut feeling come into doing both. But good traders and portfolio managers know how to separate work from entertainment. Managing money for a pension fund means I’m trying to get a good return for the teacher in Sioux City, Iowa or the firefighter from Queens, NY. And I would never gamble with their money. I would invest it. Big difference.

exactly!!

I also tend to have a few adult beverages when I’m playing cards, and I would never do that at work!

now that the prince cappers would do, lmao. dollar bill especially.

I also think the whole performance review kerfuffle was a bit overdone. Don’t get me wrong, performance reviews are a thing. It’s a chance to talk with your supervisor to see how you have done the past year, and to set any goals for the upcoming one. However, compensation and bonuses are rarely based on the review. Most traders and portfolio managers at hedge funds have contracts that specifically spell out your base salary, and bonuses are based on a formula. The formula could be derived from the returns of an overall fund if you are part of a team or based on your individual stock selection performance. So, you kind of know what you will be getting paid before the review. If you have done exceptionally well and the fund manager feels you are very valuable, they can certainly add more to your bonus to keep you at the firm. Or if you may have had an off year, but have a consistent track record, you may see a bit more than you are owed (or if you had a negative return year a little something to show the manager still has faith in you) in your bonus. 

more connections to taylor in s4: they didn’t do performance reviews because the numbers spoke for themselves, as lady trader is describing here. and surely the prince cap review panel has all the necessary data they could want.

I also do not think the “Mutiny on the Bounty” way that Victor and Rian handled the situation would fly. The traders, portfolio managers and researchers are key to any fund, but the head guy is the head guy, and I seriously can’t see someone like Steve Cohen or Axe putting up with those kind of shenanigans.

okay, but axe isn’t in charge of the fund right now. (nor is steve cohen.) prince is, and he gives so few fucks about the performance reviews relative to his presidential ambitions that he might not even know wags & scooter replaced the reviews with a casino night.