#... can you do that in chapter 2 files. if so then can you technically have the dealmaker while not having met spamton-

[makeste]

Plus One For All

so guys. can we talk about how there’s somebody chilling out inside of Katsuki’s mind who’s not supposed to be there.

hello there Mister All Might Vestige sir. you should not exist, just FYI. you’re not some Nighteye-type plot hallucination. because if you were, you would not be appearing here as Cloud Might, a version of yourself whom Katsuki has never met and has no frame of reference for. ergo he did not imagine you. ergo you are, in fact, real.

which means Katsuki has One For All.

because that’s the only way he could have a Vestige -- which is indisputably what this is -- inside of him. he has OFA. so. where did he get it. how does he have it. and why is it only making its presence known now.

let’s discuss.

okay so I’m going to try and lay this all out as clearly as possible while also attempting to be as succinct as I can. but knowing me, I’m probably going to wind up sacrificing the latter in pursuit of the former. I’ll do my best though. here goes.

1. Heroes Rising is canon.

which is a fact we’ve recently been reminded of not once, but twice -- first with the appearance of Katsuma and Mahoro in chapter 405, and then in chapter 406 with the “Bakugou no Kacchan” callback. the timing of this almost certainly isn’t coincidental. Horikoshi wants this to be fresh in our minds.

mind you, it is extremely unusual for movies, even technically!canon ones, to actually be relevant to the plot. but BnHA may be one of the few exceptions. we’ve already seen movie 1 impact the series both with Star & Stripe’s backstory, and with Deku’s new gauntlets. so there’s precedent, and it’s something I am paying very close attention to.

2. Deku giving OFA to Bakugou is canon.

just in case anyone here hasn’t yet seen or been spoiled for Heroes Rising, that is in fact what happens in that film! so yeah, that certainly seems like an extremely relevant detail right about now.

3. we never found out why and how Deku got OFA back at the end of the movie.

okay so I was looking for a clip to link before we discuss this next part, but I unfortunately couldn’t find one that hadn’t been edited to avoid copyright issues, so you’ll just have to make do with this.

skip ahead to about 7:10 for the relevant part. for the purposes of this theory, we’re just going to ignore everything All Might says here, because tbh he has no fucking clue what’s actually going on and is just guessing wildly lol. however, I do want you to take note of one thing which will be important later. and that’s the fact that, when OFA “returns” to Deku’s body, it’s only his body which starts glowing, and notably not Kacchan’s. the latter just keeps lying there unglowingly. nothing to indicate any kind of transfer is actually happening between him and Deku, in other words.

moving on.

4. OFA and AFO are probably the same quirk.

as summarized here and here. which is relevant because if they are the same quirk, or close to it, then OFA can most likely do anything AFO can do. so file that away for later.

5. AFO was able to split his quirk and give it to Tomura while still keeping a piece of it for himself.

what’s more, he was able to do the same with Garaki/Ujiko’s quirk, and presumably other quirks as well. while it’s possible that this quirk duplication has nothing to do with AFO and is simply something Garaki was able to figure out using ~*~Science~*~, I think it’s more likely that the two of them used AFO’s quirk in some way to accomplish this feat. particularly since Tomura not only received AFO, but a bunch of its stored up quirkdata as well, such as the information stored in Ragdoll’s stolen Search quirk.

6. OFA responds to Deku’s feelings and desires.

or at least this is the case according to Banjou in chapter 213. recall this interesting conversation on how Deku first activated Blackwhip.

he was thinking that he wanted to capture Monoma, and so OFA obediently activated his “capture Monoma” quirk. despite him being unaware he even had said quirk. it responded to his need, even though he wasn’t consciously trying to activate anything.

now then, let’s revisit that scene in Heroes Rising one more time.

7. during the climax of Heroes Rising, Deku was NOT thinking, “I need to give OFA to Kacchan.”

here’s the scene one more time for reference. this time you’re gonna want to skip to about 3:57.

here’s where we are going to get extremely technical, because this scene right here is the key to everything. Deku’s lines in this scene are, and I quote: “a way we can protect [everyone]... there’s just one way...!” but he very notably does not specify exactly what that “one way” is.

until we get to this scene a minute or so later, which spells it out for us very clearly.

two One For Alls. as in, “with two One For Alls, we could win this battle and save everyone.”

that’s what he was thinking at the moment of the “transfer.” NOT, “give OFA to Kacchan.” but, “we need two One For Alls.”

which, I think, may have made all the difference.

8. OFA created a copy of itself to share with Kacchan, so that both of them could have OFA and use the two OFAs to defeat Nine.

let’s recap. OFA is AFO. AFO can clone itself. so it stands to reason that OFA can presumably clone itself as well. and that’s exactly what Deku wanted to do. make a second One For All.

he didn’t know that he could do that. but as previously established in the Blackwhip incident, OFA is more than capable of making its own executive decisions in key moments just like this in order to help him out.

which would mean that what we saw at the end of Heroes Rising was not OFA being transferred from Bakugou back over to Deku. it was actually just Deku’s OFA briefly self-activating (possibly in response to his delirious apology to All Might -- kind of a “no worries bro, you’ve still got your quirk actually, so go back to sleep and stop stressing over it” type of thing). and Kacchan’s OFA doing... absolutely nothing. it didn’t actually transfer back into Deku. it didn’t actually go anywhere.

let me repeat that: it didn’t actually go anywhere.

in other words, Kacchan still has OFA. and has had it ever since Heroes Rising. he just didn’t realize it. and neither did anybody else.

9. Kacchan’s OFA went dormant once Nine was defeated.

okay, so. remember all of this exposition from chapter 304?

basically, if someone who already has a quirk receives OFA, using it will slowly destroy their body until it kills them. the Vestiges learned this from All Might while he was researching the past generations of OFA in chapter 241, incidentally. Heroes Rising takes place right around this same time (immediately following MVA if I recall). so by the time the film’s climax rolled around, the Vestiges would have known that giving OFA to Kacchan could have devastating consequences down the line if they did not take action immediately after the fight.

so they did.

once Nine was defeated, the Vestiges shut the whole thing down. the crisis was averted, and they no longer had need of a second OFA. they have this boy who is way too similar to Deku in terms of his willingness to put himself in harm’s way in order to achieve his goals. and they absolutely do not want any harm befalling this boy. more on that momentarily.

so they go dark. and they even seal his memory so that he’s no longer aware of even having the quirk. they are essentially in sleep mode. and if circumstances hadn’t eventually become desperate enough to force their hand, they might have remained inactive for the rest of Katsuki’s life.

now, you might be wondering to yourself, “why is OFA willing to go to such unusual lengths in order to protect Katsuki?” and well, the answer to that is pretty simple.

10. Kacchan does not have the same version of OFA as Deku.

Deku is ninth gen. Katsuki, however, is tenth gen. which means that his version of OFA has one additional Vestige. a Vestige whose presence immediately explains why OFA is so goddamn determined to protect him at all costs.

:’)

long story short, while Deku’s version of OFA has proven itself all too willing to enable him in his increasingly suicidal mission, Katsuki’s version of OFA is very much a different story, on account of it being under the management of what I’m guessing is the most willful Vestige ever to exist. and said management being just the slightest bit unhinged when it comes to Katsuki’s safety in particular. seriously, you can’t tell me this is not exactly how a Deku!Vestige would behave. “oh hell no. no OFA for you!! and no memories either, because you can’t be trusted, goddammit. we never should have done this. what the hell were we thinking. if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

so yeah. dormant.

right up until they literally couldn’t afford to be anymore.

11. OFA can self-activate in moments of crisis to protect its user.

Sports Festival. chapter 33. Deku vs. Shinsou.

aw yeah. it’s all coming together.

12. OFA reactivated itself in order to save Katsuki’s life.

I would now like to briefly draw your attention to this scene from chapter 405, in which Edgeshot explains how Katsuki was finally saved. please note my man is very clear that he did not restart Katsuki’s heart himself. he was basically just performing quirk CPR up until Katsuki’s own quirk returned him to life apropros of nothing.

“what brought you back... was the power you’ve honed.”

except... that should have been impossible. because Katsuki was dead. meaning he should not have been able to activate his quirk on his own, on account of the whole “being dead” thing.

however, if he by chance had a quirk with just enough of a mind of its own to activate in critical situations in order to help its user. situations like being forced under mind control. or, perhaps, being stabbed through the heart. well then. that would certainly go a long way towards explaining all of this.

and oh hey, when exactly was it that we saw this guy, again?

oh? it happened at the exact moment when his heart was stabbed through? you don’t say. well that certainly is interesting.

in summary:

Deku cloned his quirk in Heroes Rising and gave Kacchan a copy of OFA. owing to the hyperprotective Deku!Vestige inside Kacchan’s copy of OFA, it shut itself down once Nine was defeated, and all of Katsuki’s memories of having OFA were deliberately wiped, or sealed away. OFA itself remained inactive until TomurAFO stabbed Katsuki through the heart, at which point OFA was forced to reactivate itself to save his life. which it did, by forcibly restarting his heart.

that’s it. no idea how close to the money any of this is, but I think it would explain most of the lingering mysteries and questions about what exactly is going on with Katsuki. and I’ll throw in one last observation as well -- Katsuki has a nine in his name (BaKUgou), but not a ten. which I know sort of contradicts what I was saying earlier about him being the tenth gen, lol. but he both is and isn’t. if Deku split his quirk, Kacchan would in theory receive everything that’s currently in Deku’s quirk right now, and that includes Deku’s own power that he’s been adding to the mix. so he’d still have the Deku!Vestige. but he’s also still ninth gen, because he and Deku are sharing that distinction now. or at least I think the argument could be made at any rate.

so yeah. I’ve been obsessing over all of this for the past few days lol. what do you guys think?

#bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #one for all #bnha meta #bnha theory #bakugou meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #it's also possible that I put way too much thought into this and in actuality katsuki is just using the OFA embers #or something else along those lines #we'll see lol #but in the meantime it's fun to speculate

[kanasmusings]

[Eng Subs DL] Musical Yuukoku no Moriarty (Moriarty the Patriot) Op. 4 - "The Two Criminals"

Hello, and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate~! Otherwise, Happy Holidays! I am here to share the English subtitles for more MoriMyu~!

Oh gosh, I apologize for such a long wait...! Life just punched me around a bit with studying for board exams (which I passed, thankfully!), a bit of technical problems with the BD version, and a lot of real life things I needed to take care of before the year ends (￣▽￣*)ゞ

Op. 4 covers chapters 33-47 of the original comic, with a few scenes/moments omitted. It is essentially the build-up to the climax of the story that was covered in Op. 5! We were also blessed with the addition of Miss Mary Morstan and Adam Whiteley for this musical, and I hope everyone falls in love with them, too~!

Anyway, here are the subs~! A huge, huge thank you to @mouldering for helping me with proof-reading and quality checking! I wouldn't have been able to finish this before Christmas without your help~! ♡ ～('▽^人) I will be updating the folders with the bonus content subtitles when I am able to as well, but for now, please enjoy the main show's subs~!

Links, notes, and disclaimers under the cut, enjoy~!

BD PURCHASE LINK (International cards and shipping accepted!): CDJapan - BD ver. | DVD ver. Official Sites: Twitter | Website (MoriMyu General) | Website (Op. 4) MoriMyu Op. 1 Subtitles | MoriMyu Op. 2 Subtitles | MoriMyu Op. 3 Subtitles

NOTES:

※ THE FILE IS SUBTITLES ONLY, VIDEO IS NOT INCLUDED! ※ The folder contains subs for a DVD version as well as a Blu-ray version! (I tested the DVD version on the BD a lot of times, and there was always a slight delay with the syncing, so I re-timed and re-styled it for the BD. You could technically load the DVD subs onto the BD, but you'd have to manually adjust the timing on your media player.)

All songs and lyrics were translated by me. A bit of creative liberty was exercised to fit context and some cultural references. As usual, the lyrics actually help move the plot, so I didn’t include the romaji for any of them. But, if you’d like to have the complete lyrics, I do have them saved up in PDF form, so feel free to DM me for them if you want ^^

Again, I’m not a native British English speaker, so some terms might be off. I consulted with a friend to help me check them, just in case, but please forgive any mistakes.

As usual, some scenes in the musical differ from the anime/manga for time and fluidity’s sake, so please don’t hit me for things that I can’t control ^^;

There aren’t particularly any triggering scenes here, but please do watch with caution since some subjects and terms used might be sensitive and/or triggering for other viewers.

@kumoriyami-xiuzhen​ requested me to do the bonus content subs, so I will be reblogging and updating the main post when they are up as well! ^^

RULES:

[MOST IMPORTANT] Please DO NOT re-post the subs and the link outside of Tumblr! If you want to share outside, please, please DM me about it and link my blog to your post. That’s all I ask.

Please DO NOT remove my credits.

Please DO NOT re-translate without permission.

SUBS DL LINK: GOOGLE DRIVE 

※ Please only DM me if there is a problem with the subtitles. I cannot help you if it’s related to the videos. ※ If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a coffee here, if you can. It’ll really help me out a lot.(o^▽^o) Thank you!!

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #musical yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot musical #morimyu #suzuki shogo #hirano ryo #kubota hidetoshi #yamamoto ikkei #kamakari kenta #nagae ryoki #izawa yuuki #takagi shun #fujita ray #nanaki kanon #yuukoku no moriarty translations #my subs #my translations #i still get goosebumps whenever i watch the songs in op. 4...! #they are so powerful and so packed with emotion...! #“i hope” and “i will” still make me so weak!!

[wardenparker]

The King's Queen - chapter 3

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 8.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Illness/cancer, not the world's best father/son relationship, abusive relationship (in marriage). Summary: The selection of your ladies in waiting is far more dramatic than you had expected...and it is still not the biggest event to happen today... Notes: Introducing our story's villain! Booooooooo Hissssssss

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

Waking the next morning in a plush bed with linens more luxurious than the finest hotel is a little disorienting, considering you barely remember how you got here. It comes back in fragments as Frederica bustles about the room, opening your curtains and pulling back your blankets, and the image of Javi’s face swimming over yours as he placed a gentle kiss good night on your forehead comes back most strongly. You fell asleep at the cliff, that’s right…

“I have a tray for you, señorita. The king and the prince are busy this morning.” Frederica motions to the carved wooden tray on your bedside table. Crusty bread has been toasted and lined up on a plate with thinly sliced meats, and small containers that look like butter, jam, and some kind of tomato spread are all sitting ready for you along with an espresso drink and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

“Gracias, Frederica.” You sit up gratefully, and she dutifully sets the tray over your lap so you can eat breakfast in bed. “Is it alright that I call you by your first name?” You know that you ought to know the rules already — that most women in this position already would. But you don’t think the woman would judge you for asking a question.

“Técnicamente, señorita?” Technically, miss? On the move once again, she is at your closet pulling out clothing for you. “A lady’s maid is called by her family name. The household and the family – including you – should call me Flores.”

“Flores.” You nod and file away the information as you sip your coffee. It’s only mildly sweet and just warm so that it doesn’t burn your mouth, and you love it. “What does one wear to interview ladies in waiting, Flores? Do you have any ideas?”

She hums thoughtfully, looking into your closet again before looking back at you. “Something that will not crumple,” she advises, putting away the linen dress and silk blouse she had been considering. “You will be sitting most of the day. It will look messy.”

“What about that one?” She has pulled a blue wrap dress with flowers delicately printed on the light fabric and it strikes you as the sort of thing that Javi might like. “Would that be appropriate?”

“This?” She appraises the dress for a moment then nods and shoots you a mischievous grin. “We will find you a hat and you can interview your ladies in the garden. You will look like you belong in a painting.”

“Perfecto.” There cannot be any shortage of hats in a royal palace, you’re sure, but you have a few of your own and one is bound to work. “What is the prince busy with this morning?” You ask after a moment, deciding that the tomato jam and a few slices of the cured ham sound delicious in your first slice of toast. “Do you know?”

“Sí.” She nods as she starts to look through your things for an appropriate pair of shoes to match the dress. “They say some of the Crown Jewels have been brought out of storage. Though no one seems to know what for.”

“Oh, I see.” You know. You know very well. Javi must be looking at rings with his father this morning. And that gives you a certain twist of nerves and excitement that has you remembering the exact, delectable pressure of his kiss from last night. “I’m sure we’ll know soon enough,” you murmur with a smirk tucked away in the corner of your mouth. He had asked if you wanted to be able to pick out your ring. Perhaps he is narrowing down a few favourites — or perhaps his father has already decided for you both. It could easily be either.

******

“I must admit that I am surprised that you are so eager to pick out a ring.” The king’s brow arches as he tries to mask the pain of moving in the discreet motorized chair that had been secreted through the halls of the palace.

The room where the selection of jewels had been brought this morning is well-hidden, an extension of the library that was once used as a private prayer room for medieval kings. For the last few centuries it has been more of a place for meetings that the crown wishes to remain under wraps. Or, like this morning, official business that is to be kept quiet. A dozen brilliant rings of all shapes, sizes, and origins have been selected for the prince to choose from for his bride-to-be.

Javi’s eyes speculatively contemplate the rings and dismiss several heavier sets outright. He doesn’t want your hand weighed down by something too ostentatious. “I want my father to see me settled before the end of his time.” He had stayed up most of the night thinking about everything after he had put you to bed. It was quite possibly the most internal reflection he has had in a long time.

“I will be announcing my abdication the week after your engagement is made public.” The king has never been accused of being a sentimental man, but he most certainly believes there is a correct order to things. “The people will see you settled as well.”

Javi swallows and nods seriously. The heaviness of the comment making his heart clench and he realizes that despite their differences, his father is dying. By next year, he will not have his father’s council to guide him. It makes him wish he had spent more time with him. “As you wish.”

“It will prevent the beginning of your reign from being overshadowed by my death.” Having given it a great deal of thought, he and his advisors have agreed on this being the best course of action. It is unconventional, which is not a word that is normally used to describe King Miguel, but it is in the best interest of the nation he has dedicated his life to.

“And it will allow you to have some peace for your last days.” Javi’s heart breaks as he touches the ring his mother had worn when she was alive. He wonders if his father had put it back recently because it had been in their bedroom safe the last time Javi had seen it.

His father ignores the idea that peace or rest should be thought of at all, but leans closer to see Javier touch his mother’s ring gently. “It would not be unheard of for a son to offer his betrothed the mother’s ring,” he admits. Although it is a terribly trendy thing to do at the moment. The English princes have cornered that market.

“I think she would like it.” Javi admits, a small amount of moisture building up in his eyes. “Did you put this back recently?”

"I did." He had been reluctant to part with the gem considering his late wife's fondness for it. The emerald cut diamond had been selected by his own mother for his bride-to-be and the setting was created specifically for their engagement. "The connection between your mothers is important. It was appropriate to return it to the collection for you to choose from."

“I think mama would approve.” The choice of ring is appropriate and he picks it up and tilts his head. “Perhaps the infinity band with it.”

Sitting sometimes helps with the pain that the king faces near constantly and sometimes it does not, right now being one of the instances where the pain is stronger no matter what position he is in. "Your mother—" He clears his throat to cover a wince. To draw attention to his pain will help nothing. "Enjoyed choosing her own band." Of course, his own bride had made the choice with her mother at her side, but that will not be possible for his son's bride.

“Then I will leave it up to her to choose.” Javi decides, kneeling down beside the chair and looking up at his father. “Would you like to be present when I propose?”

"I will be present for the photographer to take your engagement portraits." The date, time, and place of which have already been decided, though the king doubts his son has viewed his appointments with any regularity. "The choosing of her was what was important. Ask her how you will, so long as it is appropriate and private. None of these public declarations. They are undignified."

“Yes sir.” Javi agrees. “We went to the cliffs last night to look at the stars. I might take her back to ask her there.”

"Remember she will be asked numerous times how it was done." Miguel warns his son. An arranged marriage may not be the most romantic option – much to Javier's chagrin – but it will still be anticipated and talked on by the entire nation. "If she can be happy to tell the story, so much the better."

“I will arrange to have a candlelit dessert on the cliffs.” Javi decides. “Perhaps I can find her favorite one from the States and have it flown in.”

"Our chefs can make anything." Dismissing the idea that Javier's American attraction could yield anything positive, the king waves one hand dismissively. "But do as you will. She will need to begin the wedding planning immediately so plan your date accordingly." He still thinks the idea unnecessary, but his son is a sentimental sort of man. "The less delay we have in everything, the better."

“Then I will do it tonight.” It might not be on his timeline, but he will not disappoint his father.

"Good." Checking his watch, the king looks to his son once more and the ring that he is holding. What once was the boy's mother's will now be his wife's and that is not a path through sentimentality that Miguel is equipped to walk himself. "I have a meeting," he announces gruffly. "Whatever you decide to do, let her keep her appointments today. I expect to know the names of her ladies in waiting before lunch and have a report from her dressmaker before dinner." The latter is not usual, but he needs to make sure the American will be dressed appropriately. She will be an important face in the kingdom in no time at all. She should look like it.

“Of course.” There is the thread of cold civility that Javier expected. The need to conform to the schedules and demands of the crown. He nods. “Have a good meeting, your Majesty.”

******

Having Flores nearby for this entirely odd interview process is your only source of comfort at the moment. The ladies who have been announced and curtsied before you have spanned several decades in age and experience. Some of the younger ones have been nauseating suck-ups. A few of the older have been merciless snobs. At this point you're grateful for the good weather and the mid-morning tea service that was provided by the kitchens for you to have some kind of polite activity to engage in while speaking to the numerous noblewomen who have come through the gardens.

"Dama Gabriella Gutierrez." The next lady is announced and your head tilts slightly with interest. This would be the woman that married Javi's cousin when he was refused permission to propose to her. This is your almost-fiancé's ex-girlfriend. Just when you thought today could not get more surreal.

"Buenos días." You have learned that it is not expected for you to stand for each lady, so you keep your seat when you nod to hear and put out your hand to offer her the seat across from you at the small table. She's stunningly beautiful and closer to Javi's age than you are, immediately making you feel more intimidated by her than maybe you ought to be.

Gabriella comes in and executes a deep, perfect curtsy. Nodding her head respectfully since your own station will be so much more elevated than her own. Jealousy tinges her vision as she looks up, seeing the woman who would be queen instead of her. “Buenos días.” She murmurs demurely, surprised to see that while you are lovely, there is no air of pretense surrounding you.

“Hablas inglés?” You have checked with every single one of the ladies before switching over to your own native language, finding that while all of them have been fluent not everyone seems fond of the idea that their queen will be American born. By the time they have made it to your table they all know who you will be to them. At least that is one topic you do not have to broach yourself.

“Sí, yes.” Gabriella nods. “Javi— Prince Javier,” she corrects herself, “prefers to speak English causally.” She explains, feeling the urge to shift guiltily since she was in love with the man you are going to marry.

“Please join me.” This will be an insightful conversation if nothing else, and the nearby footman pours a cup of cold lemonade to set in front of her. The kitchen had been perplexed when you had asked for iced tea with lemon to sip on and sent up hot tea and lemonade separately. Apparently America really is the only place you can get iced tea. “You…know the prince well…as I understand it?”

“I am….old friends with the prince.” Gabriella wonders why you have not already dismissed her as a candidate. The only reason she was here was because Lucas had demanded that she make sure that it was known that she had been interviewed for it. A preverbal slap in the face, but that was nothing new with her husband.

“That is a very polite way of putting it,” you smile though, because you have definitely been the ex-girlfriend on the other side of the table more than once. Never to this magnitude, but you know it can be hard. “Would you tell me a little about yourself?”

She frowns slightly. Aware that you should have all the information on her in front of you. “I am married to the Count of Ibiza.” She murmurs, her hands folded in her lap and tightening slightly. “Prince Javier’s eldest cousin.”

“Yes.” The sheet of information about her that you received says that already, but you offer her a smile. “But I wish to know about you. Not who your is husband or where you fall in the line of succession, or what title your parents had.”

“Forgive me.” She pauses and calculates what she wishes to ask. “I do not understand what you would like to know?”

“Well…” The other women that you had asked this of had trouble with it as well and you don’t blame them. You have lived your whole life as a congressman’s daughter and a future queen. You, of all people, understand. “Have you been reading anything interesting lately? What are your hobbies? The way I see it, the ladies that I end up spending my time with ought to be ones that I have something in common with. Otherwise this will be a truly tedious time for all involved.”

It is refreshing in a sense to imagine that someone would take an interest in her own hobbies. “My favorite books are not appropriate for a queen to be reading.” She admits, her cheeks burning with shame. “It has been a long time since I have been able to indulge, but I enjoy baking and experimenting with new dishes.”

“I find myself deeply interested in your reading habits, Contessa.” The embarrassment in her face means she either likes what your stepmother calls ‘beach books’ or she reads smut, and either way you already like this woman much more than the others. The one who said she was too mature to read novels had been dismissed almost immediately. “But first, what cuisines do you enjoy? And what is your favorite thing to bake?”

“I—” she flusters and does the unladylike thing of shrugging one elegant shoulder. “I find everything interesting. Trying to make things that I see on TV.” She admits, wondering if you would find it as ridiculous as Lucas does. “I enjoy making…how do you say? Fritters? Fruit fritters?” She tilts her head, wondering if she has messed up the word.

“Like the fried batter with fruit pieces in it?” You nod right away and end up smiling a little wider. Without realizing it, you had expected her to be classically trained or at least have her interests mean that way. “Any kind of fritter is always worth it. But that’s probably a very American thing for me to say.”

“They are so simple and yet they are so delicious!” She insists, leaning forward happily for a moment before she realizes who she is addressing. She sits back and nods. “Yes.”

“Oh please, if you want to get excited about something I wish you would do it,” you admit with an unladylike sigh. “I have spent all morning with women afraid to offend me if they have so much as a different favorite color.”

“That is how it is done.” She murmurs quietly. “We are here to be a friend to you. Not to have our interests returned.”

“I am not in the habit of forcing my interests or beliefs on those around me.” She is right, of course she is. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it or even agree with it. “I have seen plenty of so-called friendships between women that work that way and they are not beneficial to anyone.”

“You do not want me for a friend. I am not good at it.” She blurts out before biting her lip. She had come here expecting to hate you and yet you seem so kind.

“If that is really how you feel, then I won’t keep you.” Although you have to admit that you’re a little disappointed about it. Gabriella Gutierrez seemed to have had her happiness stamped out of her and a person like that deserves a friend. “But if that is only what you have been told, then I will refuse to believe it.”

“I—” her hands clench together again. “I am…unsuitable for everything.” She admits. “This was supposed to be a lesson.”

“A lesson?” That makes you frown deeply. “From whom, precisely?”

“I should not have said anything.” Mortification rolls across her features and her chin trembles. “Please do not say anything. I will go. I will not say a word.”

“No.” It is the first time you have ever ‘pulled rank’ so to speak, and it is telling that you have done it when you are afraid for someone’s safety. “No.” You reach across the table and offer her your hand. “Was it your husband? Someone in your family? Why is meeting me a punishment?”

“It is a reminder that I was not good enough to be Javier’s wife.” She confesses quietly. “That I am a horrible wife, and that I would not even be a good lady-in-waiting for the woman who will be queen.”

“What absolute bullshit.” Even with your voice low the fury behind the words is obvious, and you feel like you’re seeing red instantly. “The king refusing Javi’s request to propose has nothing to do with your suitability. It had to do with a contract. I have no idea what kind of a man your husband is but if he is the one who told you this then I suddenly find I have a vested interest in helping you stay away from him.” It’s straight out abuse is what it is, and you feel more deeply about her safety now than any other issue.

Her eyes widen in fear and she glances towards the closed door. “I should not have spoken so…impetuously.” She demurs. “My apologies.”

"The last thing I want is to make you more uncomfortable." Fearing that you have certainly achieved that without any effort whatsoever, you sit back in your chair and try not to do anything outrageous like sigh or frown. "You are certainly not prisoner here. If you wish to go, you may."

“You are…different than I imagined.” She stands and curtsies again. “I apologize for my outburst and understand that you would not wish me to be your lady-in-waiting. We would spend time together and I have a history with the future king.” A small, polite smile is offered and she turns around to walk out.

Alone – to a point – again in the fragrant expanse of the garden, you turn to look at your maid with a frown. "Was I wrong, Flores? To be honest?"

“It is rumored that the marriage between the Prince’s cousin and his wife is a deeply unhappy one.” She confides, her own frown in place. “The count has flaunted their marriage in public, but the servants know.”

"Servants know everything." That seems to be one stereotype that is entirely true, and at least you can be thankful for having someone on your side in that way. "How many more interviews are there?" You ask after taking a moment to digest the idea that all it not what it seems within this family that you are set to marry into.

“There is only one more.” Flores tells you, wishing that she had mentioned that there was a bit of competition between Javier and Lucas when they were younger. For some reason Lucas felt he should be heir.

“Who is last?” Meeting Gabriella was surprising and has put you on your guard. Now you’re wondering if the last candidate for lady in waiting will be the same as all the others or be completely out of left field like she was.

“Dama Margaret Zurita.” Flores tells you. “She is closer to age for you than some.”

“I hope that signifies something positive.” You offer her a tired smile before nodding to the footman – this one is named Raul – and straightening yourself out in your chair. “Alright, Raul. One more.”

Margaret walks into the gardens and curtsies prettily but there is a sincere smile on her face when she looks up at you.

"Sientate, por favor." Beginning the way you have begun with everyone, you offer her the seat across from you at the little garden table. "Hablas inglés?"

“Sí.” She nods and tilts her head. “If you would prefer, I am known as Maisie amongst my friends, and I hope that we will be friends.”

"Maisie?" The only person you've ever known with that name is the actress from Game of Thrones, but it seems to fit the woman in front of you nicely. She is elegant and poised but doesn't carry the immediate air of pretention that some of the others had. "It is a beautiful name. Please, tell me about yourself, Maisie."

“Oh. I don’t know what to tell you.” She’s honest to a fault. “I enjoy reading and horse riding, but I also prefer to enjoy new experiences.” She hums. “What interest appeal to you?”

"Are you reading something currently?" The last thing you want to do is answer a question about yourself and have her start to simply agree with the things you say because she thinks that is what you are looking for.

“I am reading The Wife’s House.” She admits, flustering slightly. “I don’t care for non-fiction.”

"I don't think I've heard of it." The name doesn't ring a bell at least, but someone admitting to reading for pleasure and not being ashamed of it is delightful. "Would you tell me about it? I'm always in the market for a new novel."

“It’s a thriller.” She brightens slightly, animating as she talks about the book she’s engrossed in. “If you like Gone Girl, you would love it.”

"I love Gone Girl." You're going to have to get your hands on a copy of his book as soon as you can, and the idea of having something new to read brightens you. As much as you are a bookworm, you have never been the kind of person who accumulated a large personal library. Knowing that one day you would have to pick up and move at the drop of a hat had made that impractical, and instead the local librarians had known you extremely well. "What do you like to do besides reading and riding?" This entire morning has been a parade of women who had demurred and insisted that whatever you enjoyed, they would like. It is wonderful to have someone actually express their own interests.

“I am supposed to tell you that I enjoy charity work, and I do. But not the types that have press releases.” She admits. “Real help. I have helped rebuild a house that was burned down in a fire. The resident was elderly and he was going to have nowhere to go. His family had passed.”

"I wholeheartedly appreciate a person who would rather get their hands dirty and provide real help than discuss how to be charitable over a meal that would bear a three-figure price tag in a restaurant." At last, you can't help thinking to yourself. Someone with a personality. "Can I ask who it was that might have coached you on what you are supposed to say to me this morning?"

Maisie freezes for a moment, not expecting that question but then she remembers that she had said something about what she was supposed to say. Except now, she wasn’t going to lie to you. “The Count of Ibiza.” She admits quietly.

“Interesting.” That is now the second time you have heard that man mentioned, and you can’t say you’re fond of what it implies. “And who is the Count of Ibiza to you?”

“May I speak freely?” Maisie asks, her eyes floating towards Flores and then back to you.

Of everyone here you have the least fear of Flores being untrustworthy, and instead offer the nearby footman a smile. For all you know, he has been instructed to report back to someone – like the king – and if he hears nothing then he will have nothing to report. “Raul, you may leave us.”

Bowing respectfully, the footman quickly exits the gardens and Maisie waits another few beats before she speaks. “The count is not a man you should trust.” She confides quietly, but clearly.

"I am gathering that rather quickly," you admit, picking up your glass to have something to do with your hands. "But who is he to you? His wife left here not five minutes ago."

“Gabriella was here?” Maisie’s brow shoots up and her jaw ticks a minute amount. “I had thought that she would not put in for it.”

"It seems she was made to." And the fact that this count – Javi's own cousin – is ordering and abusing his wife in this way? It makes you livid on principle. "I take it that you were made to, as well?"

“There is a…hierarchy that is unacknowledged by the rest of the country.” She murmurs quietly. “After the immediate royal family, the Count of Ibiza is the highest-ranking member of the court. And knows it.”

"And he is in the habit of abusing his station?" You could remark about what or whom else he abuses but you hold back. "Ordering the other nobility around as he sees fit?"

“He calls it….’privilege of rank’.” She snorts before she composes herself, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes.

"I take it the king is unaware of this habit of his nephew's?" Surely he would put a stop to it if he knew. Wouldn't he? Of course...there is a chance that this is just how things work in the Balearican Islands. And if that is the case you are not going to be terribly comfortable around any of these people.

“The Count is very skilled at hiding his true personality from those of importance.” She shakes her head. “King Miguel would never allow such an abuse of rank.”

"I see." This last conversation has been utterly enlightening in a rather unpleasant way, but you chew on the facts as you sip your lemonade. "Which naturally means he will hide his true face from me, as well. Unless he thinks he has the upper hand over me." When you look up again, you tilt your head at the woman across from you and hum softly. "Forgive me, I have met so many new people today that my mind is jumbled slightly. I can't seem to remember your title or who your husband is?"

“My husband is not a royal.” She admits with a small smile. “I am the daughter of the Count of Dragonera. Distant cousin to the Prince.”

“You are family, then.” Your lips twist into a smile. “However distant, family is powerful. What would you think of being a lady in waiting, Maisie? Spend time with me here at the castle and see what we can do together about the Count of Ibiza’s unfortunate habits?”

She is honestly surprised that you are extending the invitation to her, straightening slightly and a warm smile starts to break out across her face. "I would be delighted." She decides. One does not simply deny the future queen anything but the idea actually does hold tremendous appeal. She does not like her distant cousin and would like to see his hold on the family behind closed doors diminish. "Gabriella is a good woman." She adds, wanting to defend the woman who was Javier's interest before you. "Please do not judge her. There was a lot of pressure for her to marry Lucas."

“On the contrary.” Having made the decision, your stubbornness often turns to resolve. And in this instance you truly would not consider any other option. “I intend to extend the invitation to her as well. It seems to me that she could use a friend, and perhaps it will help her to spend a little less time under her husband’s thumb.”

Maisie’s expression lights up with delight and admiration for your kindness. “Ladies-in-waiting are at the whims of the queen.” She agrees with a conspiratorial smile.

Your own mischievous grin comes with a nod as you sip your drink again. “And with the wedding coming so quickly I am feeling particularly whimsical.”

“A wedding does take a lot of time and dedication to put on.” She agrees. “Especially a royal wedding to the future king.”

“My only fear is that it would be cruel to make the Contessa a part of that planning when she is so unhappy in her own marriage.” You admit, deftly not tacking on the fact that Gabriella Gutierrez almost gained her surname through marrying the man you are betrothed to.

“Gabriella would not feel any ill will. She is in love with the idea of love.” Maisie tells you. “She would be thrilled. Maybe a little heartbroken.” She admits quietly.

“I don’t want to cause her any pain.” In fact, that is sort of the motive for the entire plan in your mind. Sparing the woman that Javi had loved from the obvious pain of her situation. “If she is uncomfortable I will make sure she sees as little of the wedding planning as possible.”

“She has made peace with her fate to not be Javier’s wife.” Maisie smiles sadly. “It is a matter of pride that she be happy for him. Especially if he is happy.”

“I intend to do everything I can to ensure that he is.” Even before meeting him you had been resolved to keep your future husband happy. But now that you’ve met him? It brings a soft, smitten smile to your lips.

“He has charmed you.” Maisie sighs softly, happy to see it. She has always cared for the softhearted prince.

“Very much.” And you’re not afraid to admit it. In fact, it’s a relief. “He seems to be a sweet, sincere man.”

“He is.” She nods, happy that you seem to understand him. “I have always felt he was far too good to be royalty.”

"Or is that exactly the kind of person we want to have in charge, in a world where depersonalization and insincerity run rampant?" You shrug, not wanting to launch a full-scale debate. "I'm here to be the support he needs, whatever that ends up meaning. And for right now, that means making sure that the country is focused on happy news."

“Then I would be delighted to be your lady-in-waiting.” Maisie springs to her feet and rushes over to embrace you in a hug.

It's such an unexpected gesture that you almost laugh, accepting the hug wholeheartedly and squeezing her back before gently letting go. "Would you be willing to stay for a few hours today?" You ask, eyebrows pinched and raised with earnest hope. "I have to meet with a dressmaker today and I have a feeling that the things that American politician's daughters wear is a bit different than what future princesses and queens are supposed to wear."

“Of course.” She nods and shoots you a small grin. “I serve at your whim.” She reminds you with an arch of one perfect brow. “Perhaps we also need more assistance as well?”

"Did you have something in mind?" The idea that people serve you is something you don't know if you'll ever get used to. Even asking the palace staff for something makes you feel demanding – like a Karen ordering around restaurant staff.

“Gabriella as excellent taste.” She smirks and winks at you, “and I am sure she would love to get out of whatever is happening right now.”

"How terribly disappointed the count will be to discover that his wife's presence is required at the palace." Returning her smirk, you nod in agreement and look back to your maid who is standing nearby. "Flores, do you think you could ask the kitchen to prepare two more plates for lunch today? It seems I will be bringing the Contessa back to us after all." At some point you will have to report your choices to the king, but you can do that with or without Gabriella present.

“Yes, my lady.” She nods her head and rushes off to do your bidding. Happy that you are going to help poor Gabriella out. Even if she and the prince could never be what they wished, she was a kind soul who deserved happiness.

"Is there anything you would like to know about me?" It might be an unusual question, you don't really know. But as you and Maisie start to walk back to the palace, you find the need to fill the air with something other than schemes. Since you have done the royal equivalent of walking up to her on the playground and asking her to be your friend, you feel like you should offer something of yourself.

“Tell me something shocking.” She demands, giggling slightly. “Something that you have done or wish you could do.”

The number of things you have done in your life that could be considered acting out in any way is slim, but you hum slightly as you try to think of something good enough to divulge. "I...actually slapped the first boy who ever kissed me," you admit with a sheepish grin. "It actually caused some drama between our families for a while."

Maisie smirks and nods. “Good for you.” She hums, crossing her arms over her chest. “He stole a kiss and learned some manners.”

"My brother backed me up. He was there when it happened, and I think if it wasn't for him being a witness, my father would never have believed me." Your father's penchant for believing his son over any of the women in his life is only one of his many misogynistic traits that you had taught yourself to ignore or gloss over so you didn't go insane at home as a teenager.

“That is a shame.” She clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “I don’t know if my father would ever not believe anything that I told him.” She had a wonderful father who believed that women were much more resilient.

"I think he sees my mother too much when he looks at me," you admit, though it pains you slightly. "We lost her to cancer when my brother and I were twelve. And it hurt him far more than he has ever been able to say."

“I am very sorry for your loss.” She tells you, giving you a sympathetic smile. “A parent that young is hard for anyone.”

"Thank you." Her kindness is more than appreciated, and you nod to the footmen who open the palace doors to allow you inside without having to even pause in your steps. "She was a wonderful, kind woman, and I think he loved her much more than he will ever admit. Mostly because he has my stepmother now."

“It is hard to be the second wife.” She had seen many of her friends’ mothers and fathers replaced by new spouses over the years and the difficulties of the dynamics. “Most seem to think that love is measurable. If they still love the lost spouse, they don’t love the current as much.”

"I prefer to think that all loves are different." Maisie has a point though, and you nod in acknowledgement. "A first love will always feel different than a second or third. You could fall in love fifteen times in one life and no two of them would feel the same. What matters is that you cherish them when they come along."

“It’s the guilt of the living.” Maisie nods. “King Miguel has spoken of it. Privately, of course.”

"My mother was friends with the queen." Somehow, of everyone you have met so far, Maisie is the easiest to talk to besides Javi. Opening up to her doesn't feel forced or disingenuous. It just feels like talking to a friend. "They were at university together. That is...how I was chosen for the prince. Because of our mothers."

“Ohhhhhh.” Her hands clutch her heart and she practically melts in front of you. “That is just so…sweet. I like that. So very much.”

"I wish they were still here, but we'll find a way to make sure they're with us when we get married." It's something you've already promised yourself, and you mean to stick to it.

“That would be very lovely.” She nods. “It is something that could be very tasteful, a memorial table.”

“I’m sure the king will have some preference of how his late wife is honoured.” And whatever it is, you’ll honour it. Because there is no sense in going against a dying man over something that you have no stake in. That would be cruel, plain and simple.

“Yes, he will.” She smiles, appreciating how you already understand that portion of the dynamic. “He is a good man.” She promises.

The halls of the palace are busy today, and though most people do not yet know who you are, those who do – and those who recognize Maisie – pause in their paces to pay their respects before hustling on. The general commotion seems to be headed in one direction, though, and you recognize it to be the wing of the palace where business is taken care of. Not the wing where people live. “Flores.” Seeing your maid amongst the people walking by, you manage to catch her attention. “Is everything alright?”

“I am not sure, my lady.” She admits quietly, her own observations making her frown. The palace is a busy place, but it normally seems very effortless. Now, there is a sense of haste that she is unused to. “Did the prince indicate there would be any event in your honor tonight?”

"He didn't, but I haven't spoken to him yet today." Heading with her in the direction of all the fuss, you are relieved to have Maisie right beside you without effort. In fact, she seems to just glide along in the crowd - you'll have to learn how to manage that to look as elegant as she does.

Maisie's eyes widen when she sees a discreet uniform, one that is never a good sign in the royal halls. "I fear there is an issue." She whispers quietly to you. "Do you see the two people with the very tiny stars on their cuffs?"

Instead of saying anything you just follow the direction she is indicating and nod slightly when you spot the embroidered insignia on the uniforms up ahead. God forbid you say something wrong and it is overheard, but you know there is fear in your eyes instantly when Maisie indicates there could be a problem.

"They are doctors for the palace." She confides. "Emergency doctors."

It only takes a moment for your mind to kick in to high gear, and you're ready to push through the crowd instantly. The only problem is that since no one knows who you are, they aren't inclined to move for you. "Maisie," you take her arm tightly in yours and remind yourself to breathe. Panicking now will do no good. "We are going to walk straight through this crowd together. I need your royal blood for a moment. Mine is not blue enough for them to let us through just yet."

“Of course.” Maisie takes the lead, wrapping her arm around yours and clears her throat. “Please excuse us.” She speaks clearly. “Coming through.”

The sea of people parts for the noblewoman, albeit reluctantly, and lets you through to the end of a corridor where four people in subtle uniforms are bent over a figure being guarded resolutely by palace guards. There doesn't seem to be a prayer of getting by to find out what is going on until you catch a glimpse of chestnut curls a few feet away. "Javi." Trying not to cause more commotion than is already happening, you and Maisie push your way to the edge of the group of guards as quickly as you can. "Javi!" You try again to get his attention, this time more insistently.

Distraught eyes turn toward you and he leaps up from where he is kneeling down a few feet away from his father. “Let her through!” He shouts, rushing towards you as if a moth drawn to a flame.

He reaches for you like a lifeline, locking you into a tight hug that you return reflexively. "What happened?" Your hands immediately come up to his cheeks, holding him still when it seems like he might vibrate away or dissolve into a pool of his own tears.

“H-he collapsed.” Javi shudders, having been walking next to him when it happened. Shouting for help and fearing the worst until he could be told that his father was at least still breathing.

The medics and guards had been shielding the figure on the ground from view, but on the other side of the line it is very obvious who it is who has collapsed on the parquet flooring. "Oh god..." Swallowing any other exclamation or even any other sound, you nod your understanding and look back to Javi with wide, sympathetic eyes. "We have to let them do their jobs, querido." The term of endearment falls so easily from you, so naturally that you don't even realize it. "We can follow them to the hospital unless there is something else you need to be doing?" For all you know there is a speech or statement to be made to the people over this. The protocols aren't exactly ingrained in your brain because you were never made privy to any of them.

Javier shakes his head right as a tall, handsome man with silver hair and startling blue eyes walks up. “Primo. He oído. Yo me encargaré de todo.” Cousin. I have heard. I will handle everything. His hand slaps against Javier shoulder almost bruisingly and he barely spares a glance at the king.

You frown in confusion for barely half a minute before you catch a glimpse of Gabriella out of the corner of your eye. So this is Lucas, you think, the furrow in your brow deepening. He looks...oily. Not as in the use of oil, but slippery. Snake oil salesman kind of oily. In a Western he would be twirling his mustache and tying a damsel to the train tracks. "How could you possibly have heard?" You ask, lowering your voice and slipping your hand into Javi's to lace your fingers together. "It's only just happened."

Brows knitting instantly, his wild eyes turn towards you and then drop down to your fingers enter twined with his cousins. “I was in the throne room.” He lifts a brow at you dismissively. “You are?”

"Not going away." Javi's understandable shock keeps him from responding, but you are very used to standing up for yourself. Being American does come in handy once in a while – including moments when you want to make yourself a bit bigger than you really are. Bombasity, your brother calls it. "I am the woman currently standing beside the Crowned Prince, who will remain standing beside him."

His smile is charming, but it doesn’t reach his glacial eyes. “The American intended.” He coos, glancing towards Javier. “It is a good thing you are here. Primo, do not worry. I will take care of things so you can be with him.”

“It will be best to let the doctors do their work.” You decide, instantly not trusting a single hair on this man’s head. Even if you didn’t know what little Gabriella and Maisie had told you, you still wouldn’t trust him. He has the blankest, coldest eyes you’ve ever seen. “I am sure that some guest quarters can be assigned to you while Javi and I find out what is happening.” Glancing back at Maisie, you nod to her as well. “You, too, my friend. I’m sure Flores can see to having a room arranged for you.”

One perfectly groomed brow arches and his eyes flicker over to Javier again, expecting him to say something. But the prince doesn’t, too focused on his father and not even paying attention to the conversation around him. “I see.”

“I am sure your contributions to the situation will be appreciated in coming days. But let’s first find out exactly what is happening before we move too boldly.” Obviously this man has not expected you to have a backbone, but you understand the terror of seeing a parent you love be very ill. It either makes you bold or weak, and neither is a judgement call. “Gabriella?” Motioning past him to his wife, you beckon them woman closer as gently as you can.

“Sí?” Lucas despises when she speaks English, due to her connection with Javier and she clasps her hands together to force a smile on her face.

“Whatever you need to get settled, we will see taken care of,” you promise her with a reassuring smile all your own. “It seems I will need my ladies in waiting very nearby, so it may be some time before you return to Ibiza. I hope that will not be too disappointing for you?”

“You have selected Gabriella?” The surprise in her husband’s voice is unmistakable, along with the expression on his face. “Is that wise?”

“I certainly think so.” The smile on your face never falters. “Is it not an honor for her, count?”

He’s been backed into a corner and he does not care for it. “It is.” He purrs, reaching over and taking his wife’s arm. “I only hope she appreciates it.”

“I am certain that it will be a wonderful opportunity for all.” If you could never speak to this man again you would be more than happy about it, but you grit your teeth and smile all the more broadly. “But right now, it would be best for you to situate yourselves comfortably and wait for news, I think.”

His brow raises again and if looks could kill, Javier would be planning your funeral. Lucas despises being told what do to. “I’m afraid that I have more connection to the family at this moment.” He insists. “I am family.”

“Which is why it will be so reassuring to have you here at the palace.” An instinct, something primal in the pit of your stomach, tells you to keep him away from the hospital and you’re not sure why but you listen to it fully.

“I can be better use helping Javier.” Lucas insists. “There is the matter of running our country.” He shakes his head. “I know that as an American, you are unaware of how things work, but our people look up to the monarchy.”

“And they will continue to be able to look up to their crowned prince without hesitation.” The emergency medics are moving the king now, and Javi is right with them as his father is being taken away. “You can be of such help to Prince Javier. It is dearly appreciated.” Barely having enough time to nod to Maisie, you are off and striding toward Javi to take his hand. You have just made an enemy of the Count of Ibiza and you both know it, but there is no way you are letting that man near the ailing king. Instinct tells you not to.

“I don’t know what is going on.” Javier is nearly in tears, biting his lip to keep from breaking down. “I was just— he just helped me pick out- pick out your ring.”

“For now just hold my hand and nod if you make eye contact with anyone.” You’ve been through a health scare as a political child before, and although he has too you doubt that he was in the spotlight then like he is now. “We’ll find out what is happening when we get to the hospital.” Looking up at him, you have a forced if pleasant smile painted on your lips but your eyes are full of sympathy. “I’m sorry, querido. But we’ll get through this. I’m right here with you.”

Grateful to have you with him, Javier clings to your hand and manages to compose himself. Making sure that no one sees the devastation in his eyes and weariness in his spirit.

A member of the king's guard rides in the ambulance with the medics and you and Javi are ushered into a car to follow behind it. Basic rules dictates that Javi and his father never travel together because of the line of succession, and right now that counts more than ever. As soon as you are in the back of the car and another guard is in the front with the driver, you take off after the ambulance at an appropriately speedy rate. Javi looks like he's going to break down any second but you haven't stopped holding his hand.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

TKQ: @storiesofthefandomlovers @mimimarvelingmarvel

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #royalty au #arranged marriage

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: kissy kissy :3, mention of alcohol, you're broke. sorry.

a/n: i wrote this out today (what is now a few days ago) because i couldn't work on the other fic until i got this out of my system :) if there are plot holes its because i vomited out this chapter and threw it out like a dumbass. idk what Black-Cat's personality is like so i made it kinda mirror cat woman from the harley quinn show.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.6k

part 1 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Nueva York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as he, and the world, likes to call him, is your official nemesis, or at least that’s what the city thinks.

You crumple up the half-soaked People magazine, filled with ‘juicy gossip about our favorite Spider and the new villain-of-the-week: Blaze’. Seriously, you might just become a villain if they keep calling you that.

You briefly forgot you swiped the news story off of a nearby food and entertainment stand (that’s barely holding up in the downpour) until you hear:

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!” 

You don’t. 

In your defense, it was only a dollar-fifty. And either way, it’s technically the Spider’s fault that you didn’t have a penny on you!

Honestly, if it were your choice, you’d never see his stupidly broad shoulders again. He truly is the bane of your existence and a major pain in your ass. You genuinely don’t understand why he even pays you any mind, it’s not like you are plotting to take over the city. You just want enough money to get some fries and a Koka Soda, and maybe a couple more black articles of clothing that aren’t covered in clawed-out stripes. 

Spider-Man? More like Cat-Man. 

You would say you’ve been “fighting” this man for weeks like the magazines insinuate, but it’s less violence than it is just you squirming out of his clutches and running away. You swear the Spider is a bloodhound. No matter where you are, or what you’re wearing, he always finds you. And you always get away. It’s actually quite pathetic. 

He goes: “It’s you again.”

You say: “No it’s not.” 

Then he has to say: “Blaze.” Like you’re some ultra-nemesis that has ruined his life.

And you can’t help but: “Stop fucking calling me that, dude.” Before you make a run for it. 

He catches up, obviously, either has you on the ground, against the wall, or holds you up so you can’t escape, but then you do. Every time. And he lets you. 

So really, it’s just fucking annoying. What a waste of a great plan and an excellently executed silent break-in!

You never asked for any of this. The fact you don’t have a flashy-ass elastic suit should be proof enough: You’re not a supervillain. 

But, when the opportunity to make a little more cash comes around, you can’t just say no. In your mind, the bigger the heist, the longer you can stay out of the public and away from him. 

And if the one girl on the team wants to make you a suit, how can you resist? The Spider has ruined all the other clothes you’ve worn (and not in a good way). 

You saw your new suit a few hours before you needed to meet up with the team. Felicia, or Black Cat as the rest of the group refers to her, is probably the most elegant and badass woman you’ve ever met. 

She has voluminous silver-blonde curls and sharp green eyes that match the deadliness of her talon-like retractable claws (which actually kinda remind you of someone…). Though she doesn’t have explosive energy inside of her as you do, her cat-like senses and martial art skills are almost as deadly. 

Felicia was happy to invite you over to her multi-million dollar penthouse to get ready and hang out a little before you needed to leave. 

She’s filing her nails into perfectly deadly points as you sit on her plush ultra-white couch next to the new suit, hands fiddling nervously together as you watch her pamper herself with extreme precision. There are two glasses of high-grade champagne in front of you on the glass coffee table. Yours is barely touched. Hers has been drained and refilled a couple of times throughout the hour. 

“You know, usually I’d work this job alone, but it’s a lot easier to get away when you leave a few maggots to distract the Spider. That’s what men are for. Us girls need to stick together, right?” 

Even her voice is elegant. 

“Yeah.” You croak out. You prefer to listen to her talk than say something dumb and non-villain-like. And yeah, you’ll admit you’re a tiny bit scared of her, but sometimes that’s something you have to go through when making friends. Right?

“Alright, we’ve got like 20 minutes. Go on, babe, try it on.” She loosely gestures to the suit, “Bathroom is in the hallway, first door to the left.” You stand promptly and shuffle over to her bathroom, taking a second to look back to send a grateful smile at her before you close the door. 

It almost resembles the one you saw on her the first day you met. The only difference is that yours is completely black and has a high collar neckline in contrast to her more provocative V-shaped suit.

There’s no fur-lining or silver details, just an invisible zipper that creates the illusion that this suit is painted onto your body. Felicia also provided a simple mask that you can pull over your head when you tie back your hair and some silver hair spray so you’re less recognizable to the general public. 

You stare in the mirror and smooth out any wrinkles down your torso with your gloved fingers. Alright. Now you look like a supervillain. 

Or at least a super-something. 

She makes you do a little spin. “You look lovely, darling.” A smirk pulled at her charming lips. “Absolutely, perfect.” 

—

Fuck.

So here you are, trying to break out of a bank that shut down around you as soon as you walked in. The two guys, who you never took the time to learn the names of, are freaking out, banging harshly against the metal doors that slammed shut in front of the exits. 

Felicia, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, checking her nails like there isn’t a blaring siren and pulsing lights around her. 

So what now? You could probably blast the doors open with whatever comes out of your hands (you’re still not sure as you try to use your powers as a last resort). But that would leave a bunch of evidence that you were there and you didn’t come to knock down a whole building.

You walk over to her, trying to hide the anxiety that’s starting to bubble up inside of you. “What should we do?” She looks up from her manicured nails and looks at you. Then at the guys.

“Well, the boys seem a bit preoccupied,” As if to prove her point, one of them starts kicking the door, as if it would magically open up for him if he were to hit it harder and make more noise. She sighs, “I guess we could use the air duct that leads to the roof.” 

“Ok.”

So you follow her to one of the main offices in the building, watching as she easily rips off the cover of the vent and uses the desk for leverage to hoist her into the surprisingly spacious air duct. 

The chill evening breeze of Nueva York has never felt so good. Well, it has smelt better, but if garbage and crime-filled air meant you’re not going back to jail, you’ll take it. 

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” The Black Cat runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. Of course, it falls perfectly over her shoulders. “So…I’ll see you later, yeah?” She’s leaving?

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to!” 

“Great.” She walks to the edge of the roof and scales down the back of the building like it’s nothing. Look, it’s not that tall of a building, but still, you weren’t about to follow her down. You watch as her black-suited figure lands on the concrete ground, barely making a sound, before she sashays into the shadows of the city, disappearing into the night. God, she’s so cool. 

And then it’s just you. 

You sit yourself down and finally take a breath. Your first job as a villain and you didn’t even get to see the money. What are you getting yourself into?

You pull slightly at the elastic holding your hair together, regretting the tight pony that’s now giving you a major headache. Maybe this life isn’t for you. With, probably an overdramatic, sigh you push yourself up. Now to figure out how you’re getting out of here. 

–

Turns out you didn’t have too many options. As soon as you were about to take a serious ‘leap of faith’ and try to scale down the building, you were ambushed by a series of fwp, fwp, fwp’s and lifted from the ground. That probably saved your life now that you’re thinking back on it.

So, he found you. Big surprise. He’s practically stalking you at this point.

He takes you for a ride, holding you close as he swings from building to building, barely breaking a sweat. You’re actually surprised that you didn’t hurl all over his stupidly firm shoulder. You should have.

You don’t know why he brought you to the top of a half-constructed building, but you’re assuming he’s just trying to be dramatic again. Superheroes, right? 

You struggle against restraints when you’re finally set down, at least trying to lay in a more comfortable position as Spider-man stands over you. Not only are you fully wrapped in red webs, but your arms are also tied behind your back.

The Spider kneels down, watching you continue to struggle, “Alright, Hardy, give it up.” Hardy? Shit, he must think you’re Felicia. The black suit, the silver hair. Dammit. 

He takes off your mask before you can say anything, pulling out your loose hair tie with it, and boy, is he surprised to see it’s you.

“Wh–Blaze?” He takes off his mask like he can’t believe his fabric-covered eyes. His scarlet gaze not so subtly takes in your new look. A big change from the usual getup you wear. “What, uh,” When he finally meets your eyes, one of his gloved hands raises to rub at the back of his neck. Is he nervous? He briefly looks away from you, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Who cares! Let me out of these!” You glower at him, arms tugging at the luminous webs, “And you know I hate that stupid-ass name.”

“What the hell were you doing here? Why are you suddenly hanging out with a bunch of criminals?”

You give him a deadpan expression, “I’m a villain, remember.”

“Ah,” He slices through a couple of the overlapping webs that fit snugly over your stomach. “Finally giving into the narrative, hm?” Then the ones around your arms.

“S’not like I have much of a choice.” The red webs start to loosen until they unravel completely and pool on the floor. “So, you’re…letting me go?” You rub at your sore wrists, feeling the ache dissipate almost immediately. He shrugs like it’s no big deal for him. 

“It’s expected, isn't it?” He’s at the edge of the roof staring at the buildings around him, a soft breeze sweeps through his hair, and the lights of ‘the city that never sleeps’ soak over his suited figure from below.

“Just like that?” 

“...Just like that.” He says. But he says it more to himself than you. With that, he swiftly puts his mask back on, hiding the wonderfully serene expression he once held, but you never got to see in full. 

Spider-man is confusing. He treats you like you’re some sort of catch-and-release criminal. Acting like a push-over parent that reprimands their child even when they know they’ll do it again. You don’t get it. 

And the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s having fun. You see it when he’s chasing you, webbing you to the wall, or holding you under his claws. There’s a glowing heat that pulses in his eyes and you can almost see the barest gleam of his fangs. You can’t even wrap your head around how he can both infuriate and draw you in at the same time. And then he lets you go. 

And now he’s leaving you. 

So you take your chance. 

“Wait.” He stills but doesn’t turn back to look at you. He just stays there, merely stopping to listen to whatever you have to say. But you want him to look at you. You need to see those simmering red eyes that are hidden behind the mask. “I-” You stop yourself. You’re not actually sure what you were going to say. All you know is you just weren’t ready for him to leave yet. “I, um, never caught your name!” It blurts out of your lips before you realize what you’re saying. 

Then silence.

How awkward. 

You were sure he was going to leave you there. No sane superhero would reveal his secret identity, dumbass! Especially to a girl like you.

But then his hand comes up, slips off his mask again, hair slightly ruffled from the action, and he finally turns. Before you know it he’s approaching you, fast. And you can’t do anything but stand there, watching as his looming form starts to take up more and more of your vision until he’s standing right in front of you, head tilted downwards and red eyes low. 

Two warm palms cradle your jaw and you lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just as your eyes start to open again, his head is dipping toward yours. Then his lips meet yours.

And it’s perfect. His soft plush lips move against yours, occasionally nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until it was satisfyingly plump. The warm, masculine smell surrounding you makes your knees weak as his hands drop from your face to your waist in an effort to pull you toward him.

Your body melts against him as he starts to softly lick into your mouth, thoroughly seeking out the taste of you. He pushes you gently against the unfinished concrete wall behind you, eliminating any space that was left between your thinly suited bodies. You swear you’re about to melt when you feel his broken groan against your lightly suited-chest.

And then you separate, heavy breaths and intense gazes floating between you. “Miguel.” He looks down at the way he’s holding you, the size of his palm against your smaller body. And then the ridiculous suit that was tailored specifically for the heist, but looks more like something you’d wear for a BDSM session. He clears his throat and looks back up, “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Miguel…” His hand on your waist clenches at the sound of your hoarse voice and you can tell he’s tempted to pull you back in. 

“You’re one of the few who know.”

Now, you’re curious. You hum, “Who else knows?” His eyes glance at your hair and his hand drops. Suddenly, you feel cold. He steps away from you, not unkindly, but it’s clear he’s trying to create space. 

He brushes it off, “No one important.” And then he’s walking away. Back to the same spot he was going to leave you from. Cool. 

“Well,” You take a few steps closer, eyes roaming over his muscled back,  “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“I know.” His mask is back on, and this time you know there’s no stopping him this time. “Catch you later, Little Red.” He jumps. 

Little Red? 

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #cat and mouse

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 19

Hey, guys. Sorry it took so long to get this out. The chapter was fighting me and I have had the absolutely worst week. However in slightly happier news, my partner got a new job and that means I should be able to quit mine and go back to writing full time. I'll let you know more when I do, but it's looking more and more likely.

I realized it had been a while since we had an Eddie centric chapter and decided this would be the one. And I left it on a cliffhanger again. But don't worry next chapter will see more than one villain vanquished.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

***

Eddie was seething. He hadn’t been this mad since he learned Max was moving to New York. Actually. No. He was madder then that. He was pissed.

Gareth grimaced. “They won’t do anything?”

“No,” Eddie growled. “Because he technically hasn’t violated the protection order, according to them.”

“If he can’t get with in five hundred feet,” Brian said, “then how did he find out about Steve.”

Eddie threw up his arms into the air. “That’s what I asked.”

“I’m betting,” Mandy said, “that they didn’t have a good answer?”

“Apparently since Seth showed up at Hopper’s,” Eddie snarled, “and not Steve’s shop, that he was just going around to all the tattoo parlors and threatening everyone.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “I bet they didn’t even check with other tattoo shops and just made that shit up.”

“I even talked to Officer Callahan who was in charge of the original case file because he’s not supposed to be out of jail yet,” Eddie said, beginning to pace. “He never went.”

“What?!” came the shocked cry of outrage from everyone.

“Yeah,” Eddie continued. “Apparently he made a deal with the DA and they didn’t tell me. He got two years probation.”

“That’s bullshit!” Mandy hissed. “He was going to kill you.”

“Criminal mischief,” Eddie said. “Domestic abuse down to criminal mischief. $300 fine, two year probation, and forced to take a class about how not to be a violent offender.”

“It’s because you’re a man, isn’t it?” Gareth asked, licking his lips slowly. “These fuckers don’t think a man can be abused.”

Eddie pursed his lips into a line and nodded.

“Hop’s calling in a couple of favors to keep Steve safe,” he said. “But that does jack shit about me. And this isn’t me calling out that shit. That’s Hop’s prerogative but he’s my dumb ass ex, who’s protecting me?”

“We are,” Jeff said. “You don’t go anywhere without one of us. Garth, since you’re the only one without a roommate at the moment, Eddie’s going to stay with you. Brian, talk to Cecil, he’s studying law. See what he can recommend.”

Gareth and Brian both nodded.

Eddie buried his head into his hands. “This is such bullshit.”

Mandy came up and gave him a hug. “We’ll get through this. We did before and we will again. And this time we have more people that would be willing to help. Steve, Robin, Chrissy, hell the whole of the Royal Pain would throw hands for you.”

Eddie chuckled. He knew that too. “Well, maybe not Erica.”

Brian snorted. “That girl would sell her own mother for a cookie.”

“Not even a Girl Scout cookie,” Jeff agreed. “That girl is bound for world domination.”

“No doubt.”

*

“You tell me right now,” Wayne said when Eddie had called that night, “do you need me up there? Because work be damned, boy, I’ll be up there in two shakes of lamb’s tail.”

Eddie chewed on his nail. He felt like that little boy all over again. Being given the choice between being with his uncle or being put in a foster home. He didn’t want to be a bother to anyone, but he knew. He knew that Wayne was someone that wouldn’t care. That he could be as big a bother as he wanted, he would still be loved.

He let out a shuddering breath and like that little boy all those years ago said, “Yes. Please.”

“I’ve got some vacation time coming,” Wayne said as if he didn’t have weeks and weeks of it stored up because he was never sick a day in his life. “I cane be up there for as long as you need me, you hear?”

“I’m staying with Gareth for the time being,” Eddie said solemnly, “because Jeff is worried that Seth will follow me home.”

“Smart man, your Jeff,” Wayne agreed. “I have a friend in Indy I can crash on the sofa of for a couple of days until I can find something a little more permanent.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Let me know when you get into town and we’ll meet up for lunch.”

“You can finally take me to that pizza place you’ve been going on about for months.”

Eddie laughed, a knot loosening in his chest. “You’ve got it, old man.”

*

A few days later Steve was waiting for the pizza he had ordered for the shop, playing silly games on his phone when the bell announced new arrivals. He looked up instinctively and grinned.

He waved. “Eddie!”

Eddie lit up with a big smile. “Stevie?” He hopped over, an older man following a little slower behind.

“Hey!” Steve greeted. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Eddie’s smile turned into a grin. “DiMaggio’s is the best pizza place in Indy, not coming here is a crime.”

“If it’s not it certainly should be,” Steve agreed with his own answering grin.

“Steve,” Eddie said, “this is my uncle, Wayne. He’s staying in town for a few days.”

Steve’s mood was dampened a bit, knowing why he was in town. “Nice to meet you. I was planning a trip back down Hawkins at the end of the summer so that Eddie could introduce us, sorry we had meet under lesser than ideal circumstances.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment before turning to Eddie. “This one is a keeper.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in front of his face, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment.

Steve just smiled fondly at him. “I think that’s up to him.”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “I like him.”

That surprised a laugh out of Eddie causing him to drop the hair. “Me too.”

“Let me just go order our pizzas,” Eddie murmured and darted for the front counter.

“He’s cute,” Steve said, waving his hand to the chair in front of him for Wayne to sit.

Wayne took the seat and smiled. “He certainly is. I’m glad the world didn’t beat the silliness out of him.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed. “I love how earnest and outgoing he is.”

Wayne hummed. “He tell what was going on?”

Steve nodded. “I’m afraid it’s my fault. Seth came after me at a friend’s shop, tried to threaten me into leaving Eddie alone.”

“I don’t think being threatened is the fault of the victim,” he said, his voice a deep comforting rumble.

Steve blushed. “That’s what Jeff and Robin said.”

“Jeff I know,” Wayne said, “Robin I don’t, but it sounds to me like they both have their heads on straight and you should be listening to them and not that voice in the back of your head.” He tapped Steve forehead for emphasis.

The bell above the door rang again and Mike and Will walked in. Steve raised a eyebrow when he spotted them.

“DiMaggio’s is certainly hopping for a random Thursday,” he commented dryly to Will when he lead a slightly reluctant Mike over to their table. Eddie arrived at the table just moments later and there are hugs and greetings all around.

“You caused quite a stir at the latest family dinner,” Will said with a huge grin to Steve.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, how did that happen?”

“Jonathan is back on Mom’s couch,” he said with a smirk.

Steve reared his head back. “And how did that involve me?”

“Argyle kicked him out of the apartment because him and Nancy lied to him about who’s fault your and her relationship ended.”

“Nancy is furious at them both,” Mike said with a half shrug. “I’m not sure their relationship is going to survive that little revelation.”

Steve winced. “Yeah...that’s on them though. How was I to know that Jonathan hadn’t been honest to Argyle about that.”

Eddie bumped his shoulder. “You weren’t.”

“Oh we are totally on your side,” Will said.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, man. It was straight up bullshit all the lying they did.”

“Mom’s pissed because she really liked you,” Will continued, “and believed Jonathan about how things went down. Like of course she did. He’s her son, but she should have tried to get your side of it.”

“Those eight years are totally on her,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’ve been trying to tell her for years to at least talk to me about it.”

Will and Mike nodded.

Mike chewed on his lip as he played with the loose string on the hem of his t-shirt. “Is it bad I hope Nancy and Jonathan break up?”

The table got silence for a moment.

Wayne lifted his chin. “Why’s that, son?”

“Because I don’t think she wants a relationship. I think she was only with Jonathan and Steve,” he said waving at him with his left hand, “is because that’s what you’re ‘supposed’ to do.”

“Steve!” the counter called.

Steve got up to get his pizza order, he stopped back at the table. “I don’t think it’s a bad you want your sister to learn how to be herself without a partner. I think it shows that you’re more mature then she is. You’re a good man, Mike.”

He clapped Mike’s shoulder and then waved goodbye to everyone. He pulled out his keys and walked out to his car, flipping the key ring around as he thought.

He never intended this to happen when he saw his ex at the grocery store, but honestly? Maybe it was a good thing to get all those wounds brought to light so that they could heal properly.

For all their sakes.

*

Steve was ready for the weekend. His week had been a literal hell. But Eddie had promised that he would have fun. The band had been practicing a couple of new songs and were debuting them Saturday night.

He sat at the curve of the table, sandwiched between Robin, who wouldn’t care, only to tease him mercilessly later, and Mandy who got it, how fucking sexy Eddie and the band was when they were on stage.

Steve wished he could say he was better prepared every time Eddie got on stage, but every week Eddie went out of his way to drive Steve absolutely wild.

“He does this on purpose doesn’t he?” Steve asked after a particularly hot number where Eddie fell to his knees grinding on his guitar.

Mandy laughed. “I would like to put you out of your misery and say yes, but no. When Eddie gets on stage he loses all connection to the audience and just rocks out. His fans love it.”

Steve looked around the dingy bar and had to agree. They were just as turned on as he was. He shifted uncomfortably in his jeans, clearing his throat. “If we...” he cleared his throat again. “I mean if Eddie were to–if we were–”

Mandy took pity on him. “If you two were going out would the fans tear you to pieces for touching what they can’t?”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, looking at his hands that were twisted in lap.

She gave his knee a squeeze. “I honestly don’t know what the fans would do. But Eddie wouldn’t give a damn what they think. He’s been booed before for a song that they didn’t think was metal enough and he didn’t let that stop him. Not once.”

Steve let out a breath. It was always something that worried him. He knew he went against the grain in everything he did, but he didn’t want that with Eddie. He didn’t want to be with Eddie just because it went against the norm of what was expected of either of them.

They arrived at the club and already Robin was on the dance floor. She loved dancing and soon Mandy, Chrissy, Jeff, and Brian were out there with her. Gareth, Eddie, and Steve watched in amusement as their friends let loose on the dance floor, living it up under the rainbow lights and the thumping beat of the music.

Steve turned around and Eddie wasn’t there.

“You seen Eddie?” he shouted at Gareth.

Gareth shot up and looked around. “Shit.”

Somehow during their watching of their friends cutting it up, Eddie had slipped away.

“You check out back to see if he’s gone for a smoke,” Steve said.

Gareth nodded.

“I’m going to check the bar.”

Gareth nodded again.

Across the crowded room, a man in a tailored white suit grinned as he moved to the back of the club where the restrooms were, eyes glittering with want and rage as he scented his prey.

***

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95

#stranger things #steddie #my writing #tattoo artist steve #ladykailtiha writes

[rottenraccoons]

HIIII I wanted to ask a more technical question related to the game. I know in another ask I think you mentioned that the ending you get in chaper 1 would determine where the story goes in chapter 2, but I was curious if individual/specific choices from chapter 1 would make a difference or effect anything like a bit of dialogue in chapter 2.

Like for example in Oleanders route you pick a trinket and that can effect a few lines of dialogue later. Will some choices like that carry on into other chapters? Tho I'd totally understand if not since it'd probably get too complicated to do stuff like that ^^

I really hope this isn't spoiler territory. I tried my best not to do that ><

The short answer is yes! Choices you make in chapter one can absolutely be referenced or have ongoing effects in later chapters. For anyone who has never programmed before, I'll explain a little about how choices work under the read more and show some examples of Obscura code, but the simple version is that it's only a little more work to include stuff like this: a line of code and then whatever the extra/alternative dialogue is.

So!! If you've never programmed before, the word you'll want to know is variable. A variable is basically just a box that contains information. In basically all visual novels any information the game needs to remember is stored in a variable. And in Ren'py games, it is very easy to make and use variables for a lot of stuff!

Your protagonist's name, for example, is put in a variable box labelled "Name", and so we can just type [Name] in dialogue and Ren'py knows that what we're asking for is the contents of the "Name" variable box, so it just shows that. You can see us doing just that in the first line of this code screencap! So when you enter your name at the beginning of a playthrough, you're telling the game what information goes into the "Name" variable box.

(You can also see how we set variables here, with the "trust_keir" variable remembering if you said yes or no to trusting him, and if you say no then he gets one point added to his affection score.)

Within a single playthrough/save file your variables stay the same until something in the code changes them, but starting a new game makes a new set of variables for that playthrough. That's why no matter how many new games you start and enter a different name into, your old saves will still have the name you entered there.

Since Chapter 2 is going to be a direct continuation of Chapter 1, you're still in the same save file and so all your variables just continue being used. And that means they're available for us to use for all sorts of things! Using variables can be complicated if there's a lot of them that interact in a lot of ways (ask me how a certain date scene is going!), but here's a pretty simple version.

There's two ways onto Keir's route: you can get kidnapped by him normally, or Vesper can accidentally find a way into Mouse Hole after leaving Cirrus' route. If you do leave Cirrus' route, the variable "cirrus_escape" is set to True. That means that later on, I can program dialogue that will only be shown if you left Cirrus' route, in this case mentioning him by name while passing his church. There's a different line for players who didn't leave Cirrus' route. And we can do that with basically any variable in the script!

(For those who want a total breakdown, the screenshot above works like this:

First line: everyone sees this.

Second line: the code that tells the game only to show anything "inside" it (below and indented) if the player left Cirrus' route

Third line: the piece of script that's shown to players who left Cirrus' route

Fourth line: the piece of code that says "anyone who didn't get to see the third line get to see anything inside this"

Fifth line: the piece of script that's shown to players who didn't leave Cirrus' route

Sixth line: everyone sees this.)

So yes, there will be references to previous things that happened where they're appropriate! We love weaving references to things that happened before into the script, it makes everything feel more alive and responsive to your choices, even if those responses are individually pretty small.

#obscura vn #rotten raccoons #asks #about us #(by which i mean our process)

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 2 (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 2 Summary: You’re reviewing the case file Javi gave you when a memory of your last night in D.C. distracts you. After a bit of a brainstorm, you decide it’s finally time to call Marcus back and get his opinion. He always has the right words.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: masturbation (f!reader), flashback, thigh riding, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), hand on throat for control, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem/afab. Marcus is strong enough to lift Reader up onto the edge of a table (no mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color), Reader has hair long enough for Marcus to brush away from face, Marcus is super thoughtful and thorough when planning for sexy times

Words: ~4.5k

Author's Notes: A huge thank you again to @kilamonster for being my wonderful beta, talking me through my fear of posting dirty talk, and letting me bounce random porny ideas off her. <3

Again, there’s no specific time/setting, I just really wanted to get both Javi and Marcus together in the same story. In my mind, Javi is post-s3 of Narcos, and Marcus is somewhere around/after s7ep1 of The Mentalist.

I learned basically everything I know about the court system from true crime TV and podcasts, so the legalese here is purposefully vague. I have no idea what it would take to prosecute a federal case, lol. However, I did find some interesting information while researching art fraud/money laundering! I’m happy to share links to my sources if anybody is interested.

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Later that night, you sit cross-legged on your bed, the various photos and documents from Peña spread out around you. You can see why he was so adamant about Customs involvement – there was enough circumstantial evidence in front of you for some lower-level courts to convict. Peña doesn’t strike you as the type to take chances though, not at this point in his career. If he’s making an arrest, he wants a case airtight, no room for technicalities or sympathetic juries. He’ll have worked with enough federal prosecutors to know what he needs to put bastards away and keep them there.

You think back to your conversation with Peña for what must be the twelfth time since that afternoon. It’s still difficult to reconcile the reputation with the man. Javier Peña, the senior DEA agent, was by reputation a force of nature; women and men alike wanted him and wanted to be him. He is unapologetically brash, arrogant, and always gets his way. If he believes something is worth getting, he’ll do whatever it takes, even if he has to use less than savory channels. 

Javier Peña, the man, is intense, focused, driven, and has some of the saddest, most beautiful, big brown eyes you’d ever seen. He has a level of self-awareness you hadn’t expected. He struggles with asking for help, even if he can recognize his own limitations. 

With a sigh, you take the wire transcript in hand and lean back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The conversation had thankfully already been translated from Spanish with the original attached for reference. You had basic Spanish under your belt from high school and learned some choice slang from friends and exes, but you didn’t know nearly enough to comprehend the entire conversation on paper in front of you. 

The men were discussing various works of art and their estimated values at auction and on the black market. One of the men, Castano, was insisting he could simply forge a copy of a famous painting since it was “just a bunch of splattered paint��� that “didn’t look like anything anyway.” You chuckled to yourself. 

You used to think the same thing about the abstract expressionism paintings you’d seen until somebody actually took the time to explain the meaning behind the movement. Agent Marcus Pike knew a lot about art – it was his job, after all, as head of the FBI’s art crimes unit in D.C. You worked closely with Pike and his squad to close a major case before you put in for the transfer to Texas. The two of you had spent a lot of time together and grown close, developing a mutual professional respect before things had ever gotten personal. 

Your thoughts travel back to the last time Pike taught you something about art. It’s a bittersweet thought, since that was also your last night in D.C., and the last time you saw him. You’d come so close to saying more than you were ready to admit, and certainly more than you were ready to hear in return. 

With a sigh, you drop the transcript on the bed and fall back onto your pillows. That last night in D.C. was also the last time you experienced an orgasm you didn’t give yourself. More than one, actually. 

Your mind floods with images and sensations from that night and, rather unconsciously, your hands begin to retrace the parts of your body Marcus had touched. Fingertips ghost over the crook of your neck and across your collarbone to the collar of your worn t-shirt. Marcus’ t-shirt, actually. You’d stolen it unapologetically when he’d forgotten it at your place and told him it looked better on you anyway. Marcus had agreed, and then shown just how much better he liked it on you.

While your one hand is occupied at your breast, the other busies itself at the waistband of your panties. Eyes closed, you slide a finger over your dampening slit, remembering the path Marcus’ tongue traveled as your breath hitches. God, that man could use his mouth. And he loved to use it on you. You let the memory of that night wash over you…

Washington, D.C. 6 months ago

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear. 

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift the hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. 

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.” 

~~~

Pike stands behind you in the elevator in case you happen upon anybody else working late at the office. The odds are low, except for the contracted private security officers, but you didn’t think they’d want to see Pike’s hardon either. He’s so close, he’s almost pressed against your back while caressing a palm over your ass. You try to keep a straight face, but are practically panting through parted lips.

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time, haven’t you?” Marcus asks, his voice low in your ear as he leans over to push the button for the correct floor. His tone is almost conversational, but you can feel the thread of excitement pulling taut between your bodies. He’d been teasing you with the idea of fucking you in the art squad’s evidence locker for months now, going into great detail about what he was going to do to you – you only had to ask. 

You nod silently in response as the elevator doors close, and Pike grips your waist, grinding his erection into your lower back. “Yes,” your breath huffs out. He likes you to use your words, and strokes your arm with an approving hum. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Your nipples harden at his words and your breath comes out shakily. 

Marcus was the first person you’d ever been with to call you a good girl. You never thought you’d be into the kind of gentle dominance and steady stream of praise Marcus employed with you, but it made all the right synapses fire in your brain and took the experience to an entirely different level. 

You nod again, playing the game, knowing what he wants to hear.

Marcus’ hand splays across your lower belly, the other sweeping gently across your throat and brushing your hair away from your face. He’s pressing into you, the energy coming off him in waves, leaving you feeling heady. 

“Say it for me.” It’s spoken softly, coaxing, but still an unmistakable command. 

“I’ll be a good girl for you.” Your voice has the slightest waver, but ends strong.

Marcus’ hand on your belly inches lower and heat radiates between your thighs. “I know you will.”

The doors of the elevator open with a ding that makes you jump, and Marcus moves back with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. Gently, he guides you with a hand between your shoulder blades. You’re on one of the underground levels, where the low ceilings and fluorescent lights are stark reminders that you’re both still in a government building and cameras are watching your every move. 

A security guard rounds a corner and Marcus clears his throat, then moves to button his suit jacket, presumably to hide his erection. How he manages to walk with that thing when it’s hard, you’ll never know. 

The guard waves amiably. “Good evening, Agent Pike. What’re you still doing here so late?” Of course Pike knows the guard; probably knows his kids’ names too. 

“Just had something to finish off first.” Biting your tongue to keep from laughing, the two of you pass the guard. “Oh yeah, tell Rosie good luck at her big match this weekend.” You nearly snort. The men share a brief handshake and you and Marcus round the corner, the door to the evidence lockup just ahead.

The two of you share a heated look and Marcus smirks. He swipes his badge and the door unlocks with a small snick. You’re guided inside a dark room that could be the size of a storage closet for all you can see. Marcus flips one of the light switches, and sturdy floor-to-ceiling shelving units are illuminated on either side, hedging you in like a maze. So far, it looks like any other evidence room, except with mood lighting.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” you mutter, and Marcus chuckles. As he leads you along the shelves towards some unknown destination, long shadows from the meager overhead light throw the long rows and corners into darkness.

He takes your hand and explains, “The lighting, temperature, and humidity are all controlled by a central system. Same kind as in the National Gallery.” You nod, genuinely impressed. 

“You don’t keep all your evidence here, right?” The room was large, but most of the shelving space was taken up by various sized crates and archival boxes. Marcus shakes his head.

“Just the very valuable pieces that need to be kept under special conditions. Any other evidence is kept in a regular lockup.” Marcus stops and you come up short, nearly colliding with his broad back. “Oh,” you breathe, peering around him and knowing this is what he wanted to show you.

The maze of shelving units opens up onto what looks like a miniature museum exhibit. Paintings are hung on the walls or staged on easels and covered with drop cloths. Sculptures are on pedestals in glass cases along one wall, and to your right are a few chairs next to an expansive table. 

Marcus approaches the paintings and proceeds to carefully remove the drop cloths from each work of art. They vary in style, color, expression, and movement. Some of them are encased in elaborate frames, while others are plain, or bare. Now this is what you’d hoped for after all these months hearing Marcus speak of this place in near reverent tones. This evidence lockup could rival most well-funded galleries and museums. 

“Are these all forgeries?” You take a step closer to the nearest painting and inspect it – for what, you’re not sure. “Stolen?” 

“A bit of both.” Marcus sidles up behind you. Your voices remain hushed, private, intimate.

Hands casually in his pockets, he takes you on a tour of the evidence on display, telling you a bit about each piece – what made the art valuable enough to forge or steal, and a few particulars about each case. He is in his element here, the picture of quiet confidence. Passion laces his every word and brings a spark to his eyes that you’d only seen a few times before when you were about to crack a case.

You have never felt more attracted to him.

Coming up to the last painting, you cock your head to the side and give it a quizzical stare. It’s abstract, composed of a muted yet warm palette. The paint is blended with no discernable lines or shapes.

“What is it?” you ask, looking up in time to see Marcus’ dimple appear next to his gentle smile. 

“What do you see?” Marcus steps behind you again, and runs the tips of his fingers up and down your arms.

“I… I’m not sure. What am I supposed to see?” The texture of the paint is layered in some spaces, and there’s almost an ethereal glow emanating from its contrast of light and dark. You feel a bit embarrassed and uncultured. Maybe if you squint or let your vision blur, like it’s one of those magic eye puzzles that give you headaches.

“What I love about abstract art is that there’s no right or wrong answer. I hated it until we studied it in school. I always thought I was missing something, and got frustrated that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” 

You let out a soft hmm of agreement, but are distracted by Marcus’ voice, hot on your ear, lips close enough to graze the sensitive shell. “It was this quote by an artist, Arshile Gorky, that helped me appreciate it more. To paraphrase, abstraction frees the mind and allows it to explore the unknown. Whatever you see is what you’re meant to see.”

You let your mind rest on his words, buzzing from the energy between you. With a smirk, you say, “I bet you got laid a lot in school.” 

Marcus gives a surprised chuckle. “I did alright,” he admits, and you hear the grin in his voice.

Turning to face him, you run your hands up his chest and under the lapels of his jacket to his shoulders. Marcus sighs, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. That spark in his eye is trained on you now, his pupils blown while they skate over your face under hooded lids. 

“What’s next on the tour?” Your voice comes out a bit hoarse, his gaze almost overwhelming in its intensity. 

Marcus smiles, somewhat mischievously. “Just one more thing. C’mon,” he takes your hand and starts leading you to the large table and chairs. “I think you’re going to like this part.” 

Leaving you at the edge of the table, Marcus goes to one of the nearby shelves and pulls out a large cardboard envelope from a box, nearly the size of one of the paintings. With the flip of a switch, the entire surface of the table illuminates, humming gently from the internal fan. He pulls out what looks to be a sheet of dark plastic film and lays it on top of the table, revealing an x-ray image.

Marcus’ face is like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “This is an x-ray of that painting over here,” he points to the abstract work you’d been standing at a moment before. The x-ray on the table is a ghostly, black-and-white rendering of the muted swaths of paint. “And here,” he lays a second image down on the table, “is another x-ray taken of the same painting at different settings.” 

You nearly gasp. It’s virtually a different image entirely. The abstract painting has been reduced to a haze, overlaying a distinct pastoral landscape. Leaning over the table for a closer look, you feel a pleasantly warm glow on your face from the lit surface. “What the…” Your eyes snap back to Marcus’ face, which is lit up with what you can only describe as glee. 

“So you like it?” His eyes are sparkling and that dimple you love so much has reappeared. “‘Like it?’” You scoff. “I love it, Marcus, this is incredible. But…” you gesture at the images, “What exactly does that mean in terms of evidence?” Marcus comes around to your side of the table.

“The first one is a radiographic image of that painting we looked at, which could have told us if there were any traces of minerals or other elements within the paint used. Modern paint pigments are synthetic,” Marcus pulls the first image closer and gestures to the different shades of gray. “But–” he slides the second image next to the first, with its outlines of rolling hills and fluffy clouds, “Historically, heavy metals were frequently used, like lead and cobalt.” 

Nodding along with the lesson, you put two and two together. “So the heavy metals in old paint would show through on an x-ray, even if somebody has painted over it.” Marcus is beaming at you, clearly happy that you made the connection. 

“Exactly. And then the synthetic paint could be removed later.” Turning to face you, he rests a hip on the edge of the table. The surface light casts dramatic shadows across the contours of his jaw and nose. You mirror his body language and reach out to poke him playfully in the chest. 

“No fair; the FBI gets all the fun toys.” The cool satin of his tie slips deftly between your fingers, and you give it a gentle tug. His gaze is alert and hungry as he takes a step closer, and you can feel your body responding to his proximity once again. Marcus trails a finger across your clavicle that sends a chill down your spine and tingles straight to your nipples. 

“Yeah, but if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll share.” Threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull, he pulls gently but purposefully until your head tilts back and you’re forced to meet his eyes. A shuddering breath escapes your parted lips. Marcus leans in and grazes his lips against yours, barely a whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces the sensitive inner edge of your top lip and you nearly let out a whimper.

“Go on, then. Ask me.” He nips at your bottom lip. “Nicely.”

“Please,” you breathe. Marcus’ arm encircles your waist, while the hand in your hair grips a bit tighter. He uses a tight hold on your ass to grind you against the firm thigh he places between your own. Your hands grasp desperately onto his shoulders as your knees feel like they’re about to buckle from the delicious pressure. 

“‘Please’ what?” Marcus prompts gently. You’re pressing back against his thigh now, too lost in the sensation to respond. He withdraws it suddenly and you’re left clenching, all too aware of how badly you need that pressure back. 

“‘Please’ what?” He repeats, more firmly this time. 

“Please, Sir.” You correct yourself quickly, and are rewarded with Marcus’ lips against yours and the blessed return of his thigh. He’s a man possessed, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks inside. The next thing you know, he’s got you sandwiched between the table and his thigh now, your skirt hiked up, juices leaking through your panties as you ride the firm muscles of his leg. 

“Look at you, just beautiful. You’re so hot like this, I love seeing you lose yourself. Does that feel good? Hm?” Marcus presses his hard cock into your hip and groans. “Jesus, I can feel how fucking wet you are through my pants. Are you going to leave your pussy juices on me, so anybody we walk past can see what a good girl you are for me?” 

Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, arms gripping to Marcus for dear life as you continue rutting against him, breath becoming ragged. The friction and pressure are almost too much, you’ll practically give yourself rug burn at this rate. But the onslaught of Marcus’ filthy praise in your ear, his hot, steamy breath against your neck, his tongue on your pulse point – you’re already careening out of control and he knows it.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” Nodding, wordless, you scramble to hold onto him as Marcus scoops up one of your thighs and hooks it over his hip with a grunt. “Then you better ask first.” 

“P-please,” you gasp out, “Please, Sir. Please can I cum?” You’re on the precipice, Marcus’ cock almost painfully hard in your hip. 

You gasp when he pulls his thigh away, eyes flying open in shock. “Not yet, sweet girl, hold on for me just a little bit longer. You’re going to cum on my tongue first.” Before you have a chance to protest, Marcus hoists you up fully onto the edge of the light table and pulls up a chair to feast on you. 

You’re immediately aware of the warmth the lit surface of the table infuses into every part of your body it’s touching. The table itself feels sturdy and solid beneath you, but you can’t fight an initial moment of panic. “Um, Marcus…I don’t know if–” It’s a struggle to concentrate as Marcus noses at your clothed pussy. A gentle double tap to the crown of his head is all the signal he needs to check in.

“You okay? Do you want to stop?” Marcus’ face is flushed, but his eyes are clear and laser focused on you. 

“Is this, uh…safe?” You rap gently on the table with a forced air of nonchalance. 

Marcus smiles and strokes the outside of your hip and thigh with his hand. “Totally safe. I triple-checked the specs and tested it out already.” 

You lift an amused eyebrow at that. “Tested it out?”

Marcus’ eyes go round at the implication, his dominant persona dropped. “Not like that! I mean I stacked a shitload of evidence boxes on it and did a– well, ah– a simulation, I guess you could call it.” His self-effacing chuckle is endearing.  He always knows how to make you feel safe and secure during your more adventurous times together. You smile and stroke his hair as he rubs his cheek against your inner thigh, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow sending shockwaves to your pussy.

“I’m very interested in finding out more about this simulation…Sir.” His honorific on your lips is your signal that you’re ready to continue and his grin turns wolfish. With a playful, smacking kiss to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, Marcus slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Bracing your calves on his broad shoulders, you lift your ass a little to help Marcus slide the panties the rest of the way off. 

“Open up for me, sweetheart.” Gently, he applies pressure to your knees until you’re completely spread out before him. You might be a little embarrassed being on display if you didn’t know how much he loved you like this: open, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy. The expression on Marcus’ face is practically one of reverence. 

“This is exactly why I wanted to bring you here,” Marcus places open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, sucking and nibbling his way to your center. It’s difficult not to squirm, he’s got you feeling antsy and impatient. “I wanted to see you lit up and on exhibit for me, like the work of art you are.”

You must be quite a sight to behold with the bright light of the table shining from beneath you. To drive his point home, Marcus dips his tongue to your core and collects your gathering slick on his tongue, spreading it and his saliva up to your clit in a broad swipe. Riding his thigh earlier has left you swollen and sensitive; your back arches off the table and you gasp at the sudden contact. 

Marcus holds you open with one hand so his tongue can more freely explore the full length of your slit, while the other alternates between massaging your breasts and rolling a peaked nipple through your blouse. Desperate for more, you unbutton your top enough to pull the cups of your bra down and leave yourself exposed to Marcus’ roaming fingers. 

Your whimpers and shuddering breaths combine with the sounds of Marcus lapping at your seeping cunt. His nose bumps against your engorged clit and you gasp, hips spasming. The hand on your breast disappears, and a finger gently nudges your entrance. 

“I’m going to get you ready for my cock, baby. Are you ready?” You nod wordlessly, and Marcus eases a digit inside you, watching your expression. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re so good, so wet. So tight, fuck.” 

Marcus laves his tongue over your clit and you clench around his finger. “Mmm, you’re going to take me so good, aren’t you?” Soon, he adds a second, working it rhythmically in and out, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit until you’re panting.

The wet noises made by Marcus’ fingers inside you are practically obscene. When he crooks them at just the right spot, you lose all sense and writhe against him. You can hear a question in his inflection, but the twist and pull of his fingers are distracting, to say the least. He’s leaning over you now, the heel of his palm applying pressure over your clit to replace his mouth. 

“You’re doing so well, I know you can do it. You just need to ask me first.” His fingers inside you are relentless, and you can feel the pressure building inside, pulling taut like a rubber band about to snap. Marcus can tell how close you are and stops with his two fingers buried deep inside and applies his other hand to each side of your neck with just enough pressure to get your attention.

“C’mon, sweetheart, focus for me, otherwise I’ll have to stop.” His fingers are barely moving inside of you, just enough to keep you right on the edge. “You know what to do.”

A sob practically escapes your throat. “Please, Sir. I need to cum. Please can I? I want to be good for you.” It’s impossible to keep the pleading from your tone, you’re so close. Your hips are gyrating of their own accord, feebly fucking yourself on his fingers.

Marcus moves his hand off your throat to cup the side of your face and tangle his fingers in your hair. “Mm, do it. Be my good girl and cum.” Marcus leans down for a final taste where you’re stretched around his curling fingers, then settles his lips around your clit. With a cry, you break and see stars behind your eyelids as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Fuck yes, that’s my good girl. So beautiful like this, so perfect. I can feel you dripping into my hand, baby, you’re so wet. Did that feel good? Is that what you needed?” Marcus praises you through it all, stroking your neck, your breasts, peppering kisses over your mound and belly. His fingers retreat, leaving you fluttering in aftershocks, and you watch him lick your cum from his palm and fingers.

“Thank you for being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I had to taste you at least one more time before you leave...” Reality falls over the room like a weighted blanket, and you let your engaged muscles go slack against the lit surface of the table, suddenly harsh and blinding. You feel exposed instead of exhibited and you squeeze your thighs together as the final flutters of your orgasm subside.

“Hey, come back to me,” you hear Marcus murmur, and feel him turn your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste your tang on his plump bottom lip. He presses his forehead against yours and you share a couple of breaths. 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Additional Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! There is plenty more to come (had to). I'd love to know what you thought -- any and all feedback is welcome! I just want to become a better writer. :)

Chapter 3 || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #javier peña #marcus pike #javier pena x reader #marcus pike x reader #javier pena fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #senorabond writes #rumor has it fic

[cloudlessly-light]

I have a request!!

Emily and Aaron (not together) are texting about work and it somehow turns into them flirting and then sexting and it goes on all week until they finally hook up at the weekend 🫶🏼

Title:  Seems you cannot be replaced (Chapter 2/7)   Summary: It shouldn’t have happened, but they were drunk. It shouldn’t have happened but it felt right. It shouldn’t have happened but now it has. It shouldn’t have happened now they have to deal with it.  

Or, Emily always leaves before he wakes up, but she always leaves a note. Word Count:  3,2k Rating:  Explicit Warnings: Smut, sexting, dirty talk, grinding, multiple orgasms, spanking (blink and you’ll miss it)

She walks into the bullpen with anxiety knotting in her stomach. She had sex with her boss, her sort of friend, someone she greatly respected and now everything could change. She knew he wouldn’t fire her but she had worked her ass off to be accepted by him and she didn’t want to go back to them being cold and distant with each other. The hangover she was nursing was also not helping her concern and when Spencer greeted her happily she winced at his loud voice.   

“Hey Emily!”   

“Hey.” She took a sip of the coffee she had bought on the way before shrugging her jacket off.   

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, worry and curiosity mixing as he looked at her from his desk.   

“Yeah.” She gave him a smile. “Had a glass of wine too many at dinner last night, that’s all.” It wasn’t a lie, not technically and she heard Derek snicker behind her.   

“Hot date last night?” He grinned and if her head wasn’t pounding she would have rolled her eyes at the other man.   

“Not exactly.” When she turned away from Derek, about to pick up one of the files on her desk she sees the familiar black shoes in front of her on the catwalk and she slowly looks up. He’s looking at her with something unsure, dark eyes that the night before had been clouded by want was now soft, almost apologetic and she offered him a small smile.   

“Good morning.” He said and made sure to address the entire team before looking at her again. “Can I see you in my office for a moment, you forgot to sign off on a few files.”   

“Sure.” She stands up and grabs her coffee and when she turns she’s relieved to see that both Derek and Spencer have gone back to their own work. The seconds it takes for her to walk up the stairs and into his office are silent and tense and when he gestured to the chair across from his at his desk she sits down slowly.   

“So.” He starts as he sits down across from her. “How are you?”   

“I’m good.” She tries to relax, wants to relieve the awkwardness between them but for maybe the first time in her life, she’s at a loss for words. “How are you?” She finally asks.   

“I’m good too.” He leans forward on the desk, one hand clasped in the other. “I thought maybe we should talk… about last night.”   

“We were drunk.” She blurts out and the suddenness of it makes him smile despite himself.   

“Yes.” His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip and Emily forces herself not to stare at the slight shine left on it. “So besides the hangover I’m assuming you’re nursing, how are you really? Are you okay?”   

At that she smiles softly, her worry about how he would treat her in the future gone.   

“I’m okay. Are you?” The thought of knowing that she was the first woman since his separation suddenly dawned on her and for some reason it felt wrong that she had taken that from him.   

“I’m good.” There’s a beat of silence between them and then he speaks again. “We made a mistake, we don’t have to mention this again.”   

“I think that’s wise.” She agrees, the last of her anxiety disappearing as he smiles at her. “We were stupid, but we can pretend it didn’t happen.”   

“Deal.”   

When she gets back to her desk it already seemed like the previous night had been dream. It was better this way, she knew that, she just wondered if it would last.   

*   

Days go by, then weeks and they both do what they had agreed to, they don’t mention it again. It’s actually surprising, how easily they get back to normal and for that she’s grateful. She hasn’t forgotten, even through the blurriness of alcohol, every second seemed etched to her memory and sometimes she wonders if he ever thinks about that night too.   

The memories mostly come during lonely nights. They had been working too much, she hadn’t felt another person’s touch, hadn’t kissed anybody else, since him, so could anybody really blame her for thinking about it from time to time?   

It’s late when she comes home that evening, another case solved, another murderer in custody. She knows that she should go to bed, that she should try and sleep. But she had slept on the plane and it was Friday, so instead she decided to wind down with a movie. Her overnight bag ends up on the floor by the door, her clothes are thrown in the hamper and after a quick shower she turns on the TV just as her phone dings with an incoming text.   

She’s sure it’s Penelope’s usual are you home safe, text, but instead the name Aaron Hotchner is blinking up at her and she groans, thinking that they have to go back in already.   

“For God’s sake.” She mutters as she opens the text, but the words staring back at her make her furrow her eyebrows in confusion.   

Hotch: You did well this week.  

Emily:  Thank you. She texts back, not knowing what else to say.   

Hotch: Enjoy your weekend Prentiss.  

Emily:  You too, got any fun plans?  

Hotch: I’m seeing Jack tomorrow. How about you?  

Emily:  Not much, going to sleep and try to relax.  

There’s a pause, the messages that had been coming instantly, stopping. She looks at her phone but nothing happens, so her focus shifts to the TV. It’s a few minutes before her phone dings again.   

Hotch: What do you do to relax?  

She stares at her phone, something about the message made her think about that night, got her thinking that maybe that he was thinking about it too. But she could be wrong.   

Emily:  It depends. She finally sends back.   

Hotch: On what?  The reply was instant now and for some reason she felt like he had cracked the door open to the place they had decided to not mention again.   

Emily:  On how restless I am.   

Hotch: Yes, being restless is never a good feeling.   

She bites her bottom lip at his reply, still unsure if he was just being friendly or not.   

Emily:  What do you do when you’re restless? It’s not too direct, if she’s reading too much into this his response would clear it up.   

Hotch: I work out, go running.  

She sighs, he’s definitely not thinking what she had been thinking. She sits for a second to think of a reply when her phone dings again.   

Hotch: And sometimes I think about that night.  

She immediately feels her thighs clench in excitement. It had been too long since she got an orgasm from somebody other than herself and they had gotten over it before, what’s to say that they couldn’t again.   

Emily:  What do you think about?  

Hotch: Your taste.   

She isn’t even aware of the whimper that slips out as she reads his message over and over. It’s too late now, they’ve crossed the line already so she quickly texts back.   

Emily:  I think about the sounds you make when you come, that raw sound still drives me insane.  

Hotch: What else?  

Emily:  How you felt inside of me, how big you are. Her hand slips inside her panties, fingers quickly finding her clit.   

Hotch: You were so tight on my cock. When you came on it, I could barely fuck you through it.  

Emily:  I had bruises from your fingers on my body, when I laid in bed at night I would press on them to remember how you fucked me. She imagined him in a similar position as her, hand stroking his cock and she moaned at the thought. 

Hotch: Fuck Emily, I wish you were here.  

She stopped touching herself as she quickly weighed her options. It didn’t take long for her to make up her mind.   

Emily:  Let me get dressed and I’ll be right there.  

She was already halfway up the stairs when she got another text.   

Hotch: Don’t wear underwear.   

*   

When she knocked on his door her body was pumping with adrenaline and want and the moment he opened the door she saw the same thing on him.   

“Two-time thing?” She asked quickly as he pulled her inside by a firm grip on the back of her neck.   

“Two-time thing.” He agreed before kissing her hungrily, the hand not on her neck already ghosting under her shirt and touched the small of her back, pushing her against him. The gasp that leaves her at the feel of his hard shaft against her makes him smile. He’s only wearing boxers, but as they make their way through the apartment he gets her undressed, humming happily when he realizes that she’s not wearing underwear.   

“Good girl.” He whispers and she whines in response. “Did you touch yourself at home?” He asks when he feels how wet she is and she nods. “Did you come?”   

“No, which is why I really need you to fuck me.” She chuckles breathlessly and he hums again, low and graveled and she feels goosebumps at the back of her neck. “On the bed.” It’s supposed to come out with the same confidence that she usually has but instead it comes out needy. It doesn’t matter though, because Aaron is laying down on the bed and after she’s pulled his boxers off she’s quick to join him.   

She straddles his lap, traps his shaft between her folds and with a glint in her eye she slowly rolls her hips, moving over his shaft and making him feel her wetness as she coats him.   

“Fuck, that feels good.” He grunts out, eyes fastened on the way she slides over his cock, trapping it between her folds and his stomach. “Do you think you could come like this? Do you think you could come grinding on my cock?”   

“Yes.” She gasps, her hips twitching as her clit rubs against the length of him repeatedly. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she could, something about the feel of him and the dirty words that seemed to fall effortlessly from his lips assuring her that she would.   

Aaron’s head falls back against the pillows for a moment as she continues to move above him. His hands move to grab her hips, helping her to rock her hips back and forth on him. Through heavy-lidded eyes he watches her, from the darkness of her eyes, to the flush on her skin, to her soft breasts and rosy nipples, down where her abs are clenching and finally he takes in the sight of his thick shaft between her folds again. He’s glistening even in the darkness of the bedroom and his hips rock up to meet her movements.   

“Fuck, God Hotch.” She moans, her body buckling and his hands tighten on her hips. “It feels so good.”   

“You’re dripping on me.” He whispers in awe, never in his life has he seen anything more erotic that Emily right now. Precum leaks from his tip, the need to be inside of her growing but he wants her to fall off the edge first. With that thought in mind he sucks a nipple into his mouth, lapping and biting it softly and she moans louder.   

“Come on me baby.” The words are mixed with hot open-mouthed kisses against her collarbone before he catches her lip in a kiss.   

Emily couldn’t form a reply, her entire body buzzing with the impending orgasm that was quickly building. She nodded into the kiss, her fingers for sure bruising his chest and shoulder from the way she was grabbing at him. His hips pushed up against hers quicker, the feel of his heated shaft rubbing against her clit getting more intense and then she came with a broken moan.   

“Fuck, Hotch!” She buried her face in the crook of his neck as she trembled through earth-shattering pleasure. Her hips buckled and his hands stayed on her, helping her move through her release until she was jerking away from the feeling instead of leaning into it.   

“Gorgeous, so pretty coming on me like that.” He whispered in between kisses against her jaw, neck, shoulder, collarbone, anywhere he could reach as Emily’s breathing slowed down.   

“I’ve never come that hard in my life.” She chuckled and she saw the proud look on his face. “Don’t look so smug.”   

“Me smug? Never.” The grin didn’t leave his face until he felt her shifting above him, the leer quickly going to a darker look of want as she lined the tip of him with her folds. His eyes stayed on her face when she slowly sunk down on him, mouth slack at the heat of her around him.   

“So big.” She whimpered, her breathing falling against his face in soft puffs as she started to move again, this time lifting herself up and down instead of grinding.   

Aaron groaned as she rode him, let her set the pace as his hands moved over her body, like he was memorizing the feel of her skin against his palms.   

“You feel so good.” He grunted, hips pushing up to meet her and enjoying the moans and whimpers that continued to fall from her. “I’ve thought about you like this more times than I want to admit.”  His hand tangled in her dark hair and when he pulled carefully she cried out, the sound a little breathier.

“More, Hotch, more.” She begged and he smirked.   

“Get on your hands and knees.”   

She was quick to climb off him and he moved behind her. The feel of his hand slapping her ass cheek made her cry out and he did it again.   

“You like it rough, don’t you?” It was rhetorical, he knew she did, he still remembered how they had fucked hard enough for the headboard to slam into the wall last time.   

“Y-yes.” She gasped and he slapped her two more times. “Please, fuck me.”   

The words were barely out before he was pushing inside of her again, deep and hard and she gasped his name. One of his hands moved back to her grip hip, the other found its way to her hair. His finger tangled in the silky strands and when he tugged, her back arched as she hissed at the slight pain in her hairline and the full feeling of him inside of her, but he didn’t move. He waited until she was squirming, needing the friction, needed him to do something and then he pulled her up so her back pressed against his chest.   

“You want me to fuck you huh?” He murmured against her ear and she nodded.   

“Please.” She begged again and she felt his lips turn into a smile against her neck. His arm sneaked its way around her torso, the hand that had been on her hip moved between her legs. Fingers started to rub her clit at the same time as he started to thrust and Emily was sure her body went numb for a second, and then the pleasure was everywhere.   

His rough fingers rubbed softly over her swollen clit, his other hand held onto one breast, tweaking a nipple between his fingers, his breath was hot and clammy against her skin, his cock moving rapidly inside of her. It was overwhelming and addictive as he dragged pleasure from her body.   

“Already Prentiss?” His tone was teasing but she was in no state of mind to tell him off, instead she whined her response, causing his fingers on her clit to rub faster. “Fuck yeah, clench my cock.” He gritted out through gritted teeth as she started to tense in his arms.   

Her second orgasm ripped through her hard and fast, her moans turning into screams that he had to muffle with his hand over her mouth to keep the neighbors from hearing.   

“That’s it, that’s good baby.” He cooed as she slowly came down and started to relax. When he let go of her she fell onto the bed, whimpering when he slipped out of her and she turned around. Her cheeks were flushed pink, eyes hazy and she smiled lazily up at him.   

“What are you waiting for?”   

He was back inside of her in seconds, fucking her with heavy strokes. Her legs wrapped around his waist, wanting him as deep inside of her as possible and he growled against her shoulder.   

Skin slapped against skin, mixing with breathy moans and deep groans. When his fingers found their way back against her clit she jerked and whimpered.   

“You can take it.” He encouraged her, dark eyes fastened on her as he circled her clit in time with his moving hips. “You take me so well.”   

“Aaron.” She gasped, his first name slipping out before she could stop it, but he didn’t seem to mind, instead he kissed her. It was sloppy and quick and then he was moving up on his knees and continued to thrust into her.   

“You are going to come with me.” He panted and for reasons she wasn’t sure of, her body responded to it. Her pussy clenched around him, his fingers on her clit making heat spread through her again. She could see that he felt it, his grin darkening slightly and hips moving faster.   

It was only a few minutes later before she came with a raspy moan, her eyes shut tight and back arching. Her thighs trembled as pleasure made her ears ring. Aaron came only a few seconds after her, a string of groans and dirty words falling from his lips as he gave in to his own release.   

They stayed like that until their breathing had slowed and the evening chill caused her to shiver as sweat dried on their bodies. Aaron noticed and quickly grabbed the cover and laid down beside her, his arm over her waist.   

“This was fun.” She smiled as she turned to face him.   

“It was.” He agreed, his finger gentle as he pushed a few strands of hair away from her face.   

She didn’t mean to fall asleep, but when she did she noticed that he was sleeping soundly too. She needed to leave, in the dark of night the reality of what they had done again crashed over her. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal, but now when the veil of arousal was gone, she realized how stupid this was.   

Carefully she got up in search for her clothes, then quickly wrote down a message.   

When Aaron woke up by the sound of his alarm the next morning the space beside him was empty, the sheets cool and he knew that she had left. He looked at the bedside table and found another note, this one written on a post-it.   

Didn’t want to wake you. See you on Monday - Emily.   

#hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x emily #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut

[breachverse]

Breach: Chicago War Zone - WIP Update 14 - 10th of February 2023

I didn't think I'd be able to finish it this month considering my hard drive decided to corrupt itself, but, goddamn, I did it.

WIP Update 14 has been released! Chapter 2 Part 2 for both routes have started all the way up to the first chance of a downtime. Though you can't hangout with anyone, except for Hayne, you can now enjoy the limited shop for both the Archangel AND the FBI route, as well as the completed skill training feature.

Breach: Chicago War Zone (Updated)

DEVELOPMENT LOG#14 (10-February-2023)

(B2.1.1.22.12.20)

Alpha - 14

Tons of bug fixes typos and grammar fixes

Added the ability to buy plasma cutter pre-hangout

Added ARC skills training and store (limited)

Added FBI skills training and store (very limited)

Fixed FBI armory not being free. (Everything should now be free)

Tweaked a few of the weapon's descriptions to be available for both routes

Tweaked several weapon accessories token modifiers

Tweaked available accessories for the UTS-15

Added Flash Grenades

Added AR-10 Battle rifle (I know, I'm calling it one)

Added KSG-12 Shotgun

Added RPD Machine gun

Added AK-12 Assault rifle

Alpha - 14

Added Chapter Part restart feature to Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Settings tab to the Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Cheats tab to the Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Hayne's 1st hangout

W.I.P.: Chapter 2 Part 2 of The AA branch (23%) W.I.P.: Chapter 2 Part 2 of The FBI branch (23%) W.I.P.: AA Hangout (9%) W.I.P.: AA Store system (60%) W.I.P.: FBI Hangout (9%) W.I.P.: FBI Store system (50%) W.I.P.: Stat screen upgrade (30%) COMPLETED: Chapter 2 Part 1 of The AA branch (100%) COMPLETED: Chapter 2 Part 1 of The FBI branch (100%)

Word Count: 656,856 words including codes (Last update was 637,822)

The private testing for this was uploaded last month so technically I managed to get an update out once month but still… it was quite a delay and I'm terribly sorry.

For those who don't know, I had a horrible setback in which my computer's hard drive decided to bork itself and I had to reinstall windows. I lost a small number of data but it took me some time to rebuild my database and retrieve data from my corrupted hard drive. Thankfully, Breach itself is saved due to the number of backups I've made and the precaution of having multiple copies on different hard drives.

More detail on the situation on this post if you want to see the exact problem I was having.

But, all of that is past now and though I am still building up everything again, I was able to get my workspace back in order and thankfully, I've managed to finish this damn update before the end of the month for private testing, and added a few things for the public update.

The update also consists some scenes for the ARC route where if you choose to do the prep work for the grate work or wall work in the tunnels under the bank, as well as some new scenes for the FBI route where [spoiler]if you let Greg escape during the raid, he'll want to meet with you and he'll give you some secrets about the trio.[/spoiler]

I'm sorry it's taken so long, and thank you for being so patient. It's not a huge update, but it features the shop and the skill training system in-game where you can buy and change your gear however you wish, though the FBI armoury is quite limited for now.

Thank you all for your patience.

Much love! ❤️

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

Link to the CoG Forums post

I also have a Discord server!

As always feel free to drop however many screenshot feedbacks you'd like, either in the forums or in our Discord channel!

#breachverse #breach update #breach: chicago warzone #choice of games #interactive fiction #bcwz #breach the archangel job #if wip #choicescript #hosted games #cyoa #dashingdon #if game #interactive novel #breachverse news #btaj

[changingplumbob]

Woods Household: Chapter 1, Part 2

In this part the couple work together to get the file from the sheriff, Reece learns how bad the attacks were, then the couple unwind at the romance festival.

I changed my limit of pic collages per story post to 20 a while ago but I felt like I wrote a lot here. I did math and it's 52% longer than part 1 so... grab that snack, grab that coffee, it will probably take a few extra minutes to read so may as well be comfy.

Low level content warning: Some sim spice, mentions of death and violence

Reece: You’re so damn precise, I love it

Samir: Sometimes, like when we’re together, I have to be. Safety first. Other times, well…

Samir pulls out a knife and begins swinging at the block, causing Reece to wobble in his tree pose.

Reece: *shocked* The hell are you doing???

Samir: If they didn’t want me to use a knife for woodworking, why would they include one with the table. There, one horse sculpture done

Reece: *quizzically* Are you… starting another one?

Samir: We have to earn money somehow. But go back to your brainwave

Reece: My brainwave?

Samir: I know you. If you were thinking about the sheriff then you were bound to come up with a brainwave

Reece: I was thinking, the file on your parents deaths has to have a hard copy in records. Do you know where they’re kept?

Samir: The station is technically a small office above the library, so they’ve got to be kept nearby but not inside

Reece: I was thinking I'll go and talk to Sheriff Captain about the deed stuff while you go have a look for the file. Then we, you know, run away

Samir: I don’t like the idea of using you as a distraction

Reece: I’ll have you know I am very distracting, it’s a quality I have. Besides, I don't think you'd be able to have a conversation with that jerk. Unless it was a see who blinks first contest

Samir: *snorts* Well if Captain seemed to think you were a responsible person, we may as well take advantage

Reece: Okay just... let me take a cold shower first. Hearing you work there gave me... some kind of feelings

Samir: *smirks* Alright but no cheating. Remember, good boys follow the rules

The two head to the renovated mill which now serves as the Recreation centre for the town. Before heading in Samir grabs hold of Reece’s wrist, and twists him so they’re face to face.

Reece: Are you all right? There doesn’t seem to be too many people around

Samir: It’s not… I mean people are difficult but… I wanted to say, whether we pull this off or not, it means the world to me that you want to help

Reece: Of course I want to help, I love you

Samir: And I love you. Have I told you that today?

Reece: Yes, but that doesn’t mean I object to hearing it again

Samir: 🎵I… Love… You🎶

Reece: Well be still my beating heart

Samir: I’m so proud of you for coming up with this idea

Reece: It wasn’t that tough, I just… you know… thought it up

Samir: It still came from your brain blondie. You're a genius

Reece: We should get inside before I turn red, or the sheriff hears your singing and figures out what we’re doing

Samir: You go first, then I get the best view. One damn fine backside

Reece: Just admit you want me to fail at not getting off. You’re so- oh hey look, laundry machines!

Samir: Good. You always get your clothes dirty

Reece: It’s not like I get them dirty by myself. Is it this way

Samir: Should be. Nothing else has changed here

Reece: That’s one big sign. Hey *laughs* do you get the feeling he’s compensating for something?

Samir: Please don’t suggest that to him

Reece: Don’t worry boss. I’m going to distract him, you’re going to find the file, and we’re going to meet back home after, no problems. You should be able to pick it from first page stuff without having to read the details

Samir: *sighs* We can do this?

Reece: We can do this

...

Captain: Oh, it’s you again

Reece: Yes sir, I’m Reece

Samir timed the closing of the records room door for when Reece shut the office door. The records room was larger that he thought but didn’t appear to be too disorganised. Now, if he was a cop who thought murders were bear attacks, where would he put the file?

...

Captain: I hope you didn’t think I was out of line this morning. As sheriff I'm supposed to... extend courtesy to the citizens here

Reece: Seemed to me like you were just making sure no one was damaging the property, for which me and my boyfriend are extremely grateful

Captain: Did you bring a copy of the deed? To prove you have a right to be there?

Reece: Did I- why yes, I did, hold on a second

Bear attacks would fall under the umbrella of animal attacks. But there was nothing labelled animal attacks. Instead from what he could see every case of an animal attack that the town had had was kept separate from one another. His parents were the only fatalities though. Most others just had people losing consciousness and being unable to say what happened.

...

Captain: I’m glad to see you’re true to your word

Reece: So is my boyfriend

Captain: *scoffs* he doesn’t seem to say very much

Reece: He doesn't need to. Besides, he’s had a hard life, remember

Captain: Right. Watcher I’ll never forget that scene, I can’t believe they managed to clean it all up to try put the place on the market. I would have just torn the whole thing down

Reece: It was… really bad then?

Captain: I had seen dead things before, growing up near the woods you do. But I hadn’t tossed my stomach like that before, nothing prepares you to see bodies like that for the first time

Reece: You said there were urban legends...

Captain: Sure. Go anyplace and you're bound to hear about one house where things went sideways, people got hurt, and rumours say you won't survive a trip inside. It so happens your house is that place in Moonwood Mill. The deaths... but that’s just memories now. Good luck renovating and selling the house

Reece: Oh, we’re not selling it

Captain: You’re... not selling it?

Reece: No. We’re going to make a home there

Captain: You mean *scoffs*… you two will be sticking around?

Reece: *carefully* Yes, Samir and I are both big nature fans. The woods here are lovely

Captain: They are but *sighs* nevermind kid. Look, you proved you can be in the house, I have work to do here. You should... you should leave now

Reece turns to go when he hears the sheriff clear his throat.

Captain: I hope you and your boyfriend aren’t doing anything too… intimate. Because if you are getting up to stuff when you’re still a teen, he will be held responsible in the eyes of the law. We take protection of minors seriously here

Reece struggles not to swing for him. How dare he talk about looking after minors when he'd been so insensitve to Samir, who was only 5 when it all happened. He took a deep breath, and chose his next words carefully

Reece: He is a teen himself Sheriff, and I turn 18 tomorrow... but thank you for your concern you... clearly take your job seriously

Back at home...

Samir: I found the file. It was labelled so I didn't have to look in it. Were you okay

Reece: Piece of cake. Apart from it seeming like he would be a lot happier if we left town

Samir: What did he say

Reece: When he implied we needed to sell the house or when he implied he would arrest you if we had woohoo

Samir: Jerk. Almost makes me want to bend you over the table just to spite him

Reece: I mean you could and I would endorse such action

Samir looks sternly at Reece.

Reece: *sighs deeply* But I can't get off until my birthday, I know

Samir pulls Reece close and kisses him on the forehead before the two turn their attention back to the file in front of them.

Reece: Okay, you ready

Samir: Yeah just... maybe read in your head... please

Reece: You take care of me, I take care of you

Report of first officer on scene: Sheriff Giles. The station had a call mid-morning from a woman out on a run. She said she saw the door at the Hadji house was knocked in. She told me she approached the property but got a "weird feeling" so decided to call me instead of heading inside. I left Deputy Greenway manning the station and I went over there. I sent her on her way and approached the house. The door was completely detached and the doorframe was splintered. The smell hit you before you could even see inside the house, it's a good thing the woman didn't get closer. My late father used to hunt the wild boar in the area. He would drain the carcass of blood in our backyard before cutting up his kill, the smell put me back there.

Reece: Okay this bit is just saying a Sheriff Giles was first on scene

Samir nods, indicating Reece should keep reading to himself.

Upon entering the property it was clear that there were the remains of two bodies amongst the wreckage, most likely the property owners Othman and Nadia Hadji. Around the body I assumed to be Nadia were chunks of flesh leaving gaping wounds in her back, enough gone to see bone. I'm sorry to say Othman was in several pieces, and the blood pools around him appeared to have been walked through. However it had likely been some hours since the attack, and alongside the main tracks were small tracks, most likely from investigating animals. The larger tracks weren't clear enough to place. Most of the household furniture in that main area had been broken and touched by blood spatter. I looked up and there was even some on the roof, figured whatever did it got mad. I called in to the station then to alert my Greenway to the situation. I told him I would require camera equipment first off, and that he should bring the town doctor with him because we had bodies to process. Poor bloke was silent for the longest time, probably figured all he’d be doing in a small town like this would be parking tickets.

Reece: *softly* Samir... I didn't know

Samir: *clears throat* anything strange yet

Reece: Seems like the sheriff then thought Greenway was not cut out for something like this

Samir: He had kind eyes that sheriff. Giles I think he said he was

Reece: You're right, that's what it says

Reece gave Samir’s hand a reassuring squeeze and carried on reading.

Once the lads arrived, I set about taking photos of everything I could. The doctor wondered about Samir but whatever did this likely dragged him off, the boy was tiny and would be easy prey for something that took down his parents. I figured if anything needed following up on, we should have original pictures. Sure the scene had clearly been contaminated by wildlife, but the higher powers would want evidence. I had moved on from photos of the bodies and was photographing the door, well what was left of the door, when the doctor said the strangest thing. He said the young Hadji boy was under his mother, and that he had a pulse? I had hoped that if Samir wasn't dead then at least he wasn't in the house when the attack occurred. No such luck. Together, the doctor and I, we shifted Nadia’s body as carefully as we could. Under her it was clear Samir had been torn, the doctor said it looked like the same kind of marks that were on his parents. It was a miracle he was still alive, I know not all the blood was his but those cuts on his chest looked deep, I was sure he didn't have long.

Reece: Your mother… you were stuck under her

Samir: I mean… I can’t remember much of that, I think I’d been in and out of consciousness for too long to take stock of anything *sighs* has it mentioned Greenway again

Reece: Yeah, down here, hold on

I called out to Greenway who had been tasked with taking pictures of the outside damage and setting up a cordon. The doctor said we had to get the boy to a hospital, that the local clinic might not be enough. I instructed Greenway to call for a helicopter but upon entering the house and seeing the bloodied boy squirming he… contaminated the scene. The helicopter arrived and I helped the doctor carry Samir, who was now crying and trying to push off the material stopping the bleeding. When he was off safe I had Greenway inform the local social worker while I continued cataloguing evidence alone. He contaminated the scene once, I wasn't about to let him lose his insides again. Still can't get the boys wild eyes out of my head though, that poor kid's all alone now.

Reece: This bit makes it sound like… you nearly died

Samir: *shrugs* That’s true. They said…

Reece waits patiently while Samir gets his words sorted in his head

Samir: They said ommi’s weight on my chest stemmed the blood enough to stop me bleeding out. It’s... not exactly the best pillow talk you know

Reece: I’m so sorry

Samir: *sniffs* Is there anything else in there

Reece: Yeah umm... Coroner’s reports, photocopies of pictures that I do not want to look at right now. Here we go, sheriff’s concluding statement. I guess that's kind of like an inquest

I have talked to the doctor and the local rangers. It seems clear to us that no man committed this crime. The violence was too severe, and too random, to have thought behind it. Doctor determined the victims suffered claw and bite marks, had to be a large predator. I inquired if the damage could have been done with tools, a butcher knife or scythe or something, watcher knows there are enough amateur hunters in the area. Doctor could see no evidence to support the conclusion that instruments were used though. With that knowledge I have determined the most likely culprit was a rogue bear, no other predators would have the strength to smash the door in such a fashion. I know the rangers doubt a bear would wander inside a house but agree bears can hunt down prey. This time the prey was just our citizens. Greenway is keen to support this conclusion, saying he had seen bear attacks like this before-

Reece: Wait, that’s not right

Samir: What isn’t?

Reece: When I was in distracting Captain... he said he’d never seen anything like that crime scene before

Samir: Yeah. That's what he said when I reminded him he vomited

Reece: But in here it says he told the old sheriff he had seen bear attacks that looked the same

Samir: *sighs* Thank the watcher for you blondie, I knew you’d find something. I know sheriff Giles thought it couldn’t have been a person but it must have been. I mean I can't imagine Greenway lying to protect a rogue bear

Reece closes the file, putting it back on the table. He hold Samir's hand, tracing patterns on the back with his other.

Reece: I just wish I could go back and comfort you. Samir you must have been so scared

Samir holds Reece's hand to his mouth and kisses it softly.

Samir: Pretty sure I wouldn’t have been in the mood to humour a talkative 3 year old, even one as cute as you

He puts his arm around Reece who snuggles closer.

Reece: You knows what I mean. I’m so glad you survived it

Samir smiles, kissing Reece on the forehead again.

Samir: Yeah, I’m pretty glad I survived it too. Now, good boys that find leads deserve rewards

Reece: So you’ll let us-

Samir: Go to the romance festival

Reece: *pouts* well that’s a good second option I guess

Reece: This tea tastes good

Samir: What’s in it

Reece: I don’t really know. It can’t have any alcohol since it’s a free for all

While Reece continues to speculate what might make the drinks, and themselves, glow Samir took a moment to relax. The past would be solved eventually, tonight he just wanted to be in the moment with the guy he loved. When Reece declared his intention of raiding the gardens for their own stock Samir took the opportunity to approach the romance guru. He didn't believe much in superstitions and fortune tellers but when in Rome.

After the guru assured him the future was bright Samir approached Reece’s mum who was here selling some of her lower level work.

Samir: *clears throat* Reece’s birthday?

Kayleigh: Don’t worry. Harvey and I figured you two will probably want your space tomorrow, I promise you won’t get swarmed by every Foster in the save

Samir: *chuckles* thanks. Umm… Monday... not busy... if you…

Kayleigh: Say no more, we will be there! Will we get to meet your mum and brother

Samir: Umm… crowds are…

Kayleigh: I understand, Keira is just the same. But Harvey and I would love to meet them sometime if you can arrange it, since the two of you are living together and all

Reece: What were you talking to mum about

Samir: Oh I said she and your family should come over on Monday

Reece: You? Inviting people over? People plural?

Samir: I know your family are close and I don’t want that to stop just because I can only tolerate people in small doses

Reece: Except me

Samir: Except you. I gladly have you in large doses

Reece: *gleefully* What a concidence, I enjoy your large doses

Samir: *smirks* Do you now?

Samir brushes Reece's hair behind his ear and leans in to whisper.

Samir: Imagine, a pretty blonde piece like you enjoying my "doses"... in you... on your-

Reece: *playfully* Excuse me Mr Hadji but that talk sounds rather forward and I’m under strict instructions not to get off until my birthday so unless you want me to fail you’ll need to dial it back

Samir moves back smiling proudly.

Samir: *chuckles* Good boy, you pass even if you are flushed, but I do love that colour on you. Let’s go get some food

Samir orders food for them, barely taking his eyes off Reece. When they sit down Samir begins to dig in happily before noticing that Reece is letting out sighs of frustration. Normally he enjoys those sounds, but that's when he's the cause of them.

Samir: Blondie, what are you doing

Reece: It’s these wooden things! How does anyone eat with them

Samir: The chopsticks? Relax, you’re a genius, you’ll figure it out

Reece: Charlie and Kaori make it look so easy!

Samir: Are you-

Reece: Yes! I’m stabbing the food to make it cooperate

Samir watches Reece as he attacks his food, and smiles. He's got most of the morning planned already but he does like running it over in his head to make sure he's thought of every variable.

The pair arrive home still glowing, but before they can sleep Samir has a gift.

Samir: I know there were a bunch of flowers at the festival, and many of them are more symbolic of love but… yellow is your favourite colour so I wanted to get you a chrysanthemum

Reece: Aww, I love it. I’m afraid I just got you the traditional rose

Samir: Hey blondie, I’ll happily take anything you give me

Reece: *giggles* normally I’m the one saying that

Samir: *chuckles* okay Mr smut for brains, time to go to sleep before you wind your self up

Reece: Do we have to boss?

Samir: Trust me, you are going to need your energy for tomorrow

Previous Part ... Next Part

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #the sims #Rotation8 #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #WoodsHousehold #SamirHadji #ReeceFoster #simblr #R0806

[forever-fan]

My FNAF Hyperfixation has inspired me!

So I've been reading a bunch of FNAF time travel fix-it fics. If you don't know what I am referring to, they are basically fics where Michael/William/Henry/basically anyone else finds themselves in the past by some circumstance. They then try to fix the future.

Now that you know what I'm talking about I can actually get to the point. I have decided to write a FNAF time travel fix-it fic. It is tied to an AU, so don't come at me about "canon". Here is a sneak peek at it.

-

Michael wished he died in the fire. Well, technically he was already dead. He had no pulse and he couldn't breathe. His brain had long since stopped working and he got his energy from Remnant rather than digesting food. In all reality, he was a stubborn spirit trapped within his own corpse.

Michael hadn't died in the fire that Henry had set. Hell, his body was barely harmed. All he remembered was passing out before waking up in a random alley. Michael realized someone saved him, but now he was even more alone than ever before.

When the Mega Pizzaplex opened on top of Michael's old restaurant, he knew there would be trouble. Sure enough, there was. Michael took a job as a security guard and found that, while they weren't murderous, the animatronics weren't quite right.

Michael also found his fellow guard, Vanessa, to be a little shifty. She turned out to be way more than shifty when she pushed him into the daycare ball pit from a height that would have maimed or killed anyone else.

Michael's afterlife only got worse when he emerged from the ball pit and found that he was back in Fredbear's Family Diner in 1980.

-

This short introduction obviously doesn't tell you all the fun little headcanons that I have for this fic. I guess you'll just have to read it to find out. Of course, I haven't written in yet. But! I am so hyped about the movie that I think I'll probably finish the first chapter before twenty-four hours have passed.

[Edit: My entire document on Microsoft Word deleted itself from reality... RIP. So... I'm rewriting the first chapter all over again. :> And trust me, I looked through all of my files and drives. Let it be known, I have turned on auto-save cause it sucks to rewrite dialogue, and know for a fact that it's not the same as it was. Also, I lost a doc with half of my headcanons for a different fnaf au. Sadness.]

Real quick, I do have only a little bit of important information for anyone who wants to understand the timeline. (Also so I can remember the basic timeline I made for myself.)

Original Timeline

1968 - Michael is born.

1973 - Elizabeth is born.

1974 - Charlie Emily is born.

1975 - Evan is born.

1980 - William discovers something called Remnant.

1981 - The Missing Children Incident happens and Fredbear's barely stays open.

1982 - William begins to create the Funtimes to harvest Remnant.

1983, March - Elizabeth dies at her friend's birthday party, three days after Circus Baby's Pizza World opened.

1983, August - Evan dies a week after the bite of '83. (FNAF 4)

1983, August - Mrs. Afton [Yet to be named] dies after driving her car off a cliff.

1983, October - Charlie is murdered by William at her own birthday party.

1986 - Michael goes to college to get away from the tragedy and gets a little therapy.

1990, April - Michael receives a letter from his father asking him to find Elizabeth.

1990, June - Michael dies in the Sister Location. (FNAF 5)

1991, January - Michael assumes the name 'Fritz Smith' and works at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria before being fired on his first day. (FNAF 2)

1993 - Michael uses the name 'Mike Schmidt' and works at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. (FNAF 1)

1993 - William dies in the Spring Bonnie suit

2000 - Michael works at Fazbear's Fright. (FNAF 3)

2010, Late December - Michael opens Freddy Fazbear Pizza Place. (FNAF 6, Pizzeria Simulator)

2010, Early January - Henry sets the fire, and Michael survives. (Still FNAF 6, Pizzeria Simulator)

2020, July - Michael works at the Mega Pizzaplex and is pushed into the ball pit only six days before the events of Security Breach.

Time Travel Timeline

[To be edited as chapters are added. Peek under the cut only if you have read the most recent chapter, or if you don't give a shit about spoilers.]

1980 - Michael arrives in the past. He is not happy.

#ao3 fanfic #it has yet to be posted #time travel #fix it fic #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf au #michael afton #william afton #elizabeth afton #evan afton #henry emily #charlie emily

[fastcardotmp3]

❄️wip wednesday❄️

tagged by the incomparable louseph @cheatghost! <3 (like maybe 2 weeks ago or something whoops)

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs. Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file.

If you’re reading this, you’re invited! If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

wips:

Golden Afternoon chapter 2

bear au

stonathan takes indy

snippet (from Golden Afternoon):

“You know,” he clears his throat, “just because you’re both technically, legally grown-ups or whatever doesn’t mean you have to jump straight into all that big shit. Living together is kind of a major step, dude.” 

Bounce, pass, catch. 

“We’ve been together for the most part since we were twelve, dude,” Lucas says with an edge of snark, but Steve just snorts. 

“Yeah, and nothing major or life-changing has happened to either of you during that time,” he deadpans. 

Lucas huffs out a sound of displeasure and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything to the contrary either. 

“I’m just saying,” Steve says, holding the ball steady so Lucas is forced to look at him instead of it, “no one’s gonna think you love each other any less if you slow your roll a little bit. Yeah?” 

“You talk like Coach Gunderson, you know that?”

“That’s a fucked up thing to say to a person, Sinclair.” 

Lucas snorts, the aversion of his gaze more to do with his laughter this time than any lingering sheepishness. 

tagging with zero pressure and one trillion love: @kkpwnall @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @fragilecapric0rnn @hellsfireclub @capriciouslyterminal @thefreakandthehair + anyone who wants to join!

#wip game #no kas!chrissy this time not bc i'm not working on it but bc i must get over the fact that the last chapter flopped first fjakdlsfj #also bc i really would like to finish GA ch 2 by new years AND bc stonathan idea grabbed me by the throat last night #also pt. 2 steve and lucas friendship supremacy #help me decide what to work on!

[abeloth]

Novel Planning/Writing Programs/Sites

I wrote this mostly for myself as I've used many different things over the years with varying success, but I think it might be useful for others as well. Not sponsored. All below the cut. If you want the TLDR, scroll to the very bottom.

1. Google Docs

Free. Just regular ol' Google Docs for writing and organizing. If you lose a Doc, you can contact Google and they're pretty prompt about getting it back for you if you accidentally delete something and then empty your trash.

For writing, it helps to get one folder and then have a bunch of folders inside that folder for drafts. It also helps to make one Doc that's just for background information you might need or for outlining. For this, I've just made tables or used Google's built-in outlines. However, this is the model of an eleven year old and it can get pretty messy trying to keep track of too much.

2. Airtable

Free with paid version available. Not for writing, but good for organizing. There's a novel template as well. I like that you can link records together. I've been using it for awhile for things like species, scenes, locations, etc.

For family trees, I recommend changing the view from "Grid view" to "Kanban" and categorizing it by "Generation" (Gen 1, etc). This works really well for planning things out and world building in general. You can add images really easily as well. It's very user intuitive and I recommend playing around with categories and fields until you get it to your liking. Btw, if you sign up with the above link I get referral credit on the site! I'd appreciate it if this post proves helpful.

3. Notebook.ai

Free with paid version available. This is one of those programs that's technically free, but you need to pay for it to be really usable in some respects. I really like how it organizes characters and asks you questions that prompt you to think more about your character. Same with locations. So it's great for characters and locations, but not for stuff like species or races. If you want to write fantasy, I would not use this alone (but I would take a look to see if any of the questions help you with world-building or characterization). I'd use it in conjunction with something like Airtable.

4. novelWriter

Free. This offline software is great for novel-writing! You can move chapters around which is nice. It has all your work in this nice lil' collapsable list. It also has options for you to note stuff about the plot, characters, location, etc at the bottom. Not super user intuitive, but it's not very hard to figure out and their site can help you out. Also, the next several are very similar to novelWriter (similar features and are not browser-based), but with more features.

5. Manuskript

Free. Same as above, but it includes an analyzer that can tell you how often you used a word or phrase. It also has some neat features like a distraction-free mode you can customize and a novel assistant–though I have not used that feature. The devs recommend having backups because it's still in early development. However, you should have backups regardless. I’ve personally had some issues losing progress and my .msk file not loading completely within the program. I’m trying to play around and find a solution, but I might lose motivation since I haven’t had this issue with Quoll or novelWriter.

6. Quoll Writer

Free. Great for novel writing. It also has bonus features like a fullscreen distraction free mode you can configure and a guide meant to identify problems with your writing. You can easily do text annotations as well. It has stats to view your productivity AND an editor mode that includes sharing with others. There is also a warm-up feature that comes complete with writing prompts, though I’ve never used this feature.

7. Atomic Scribbler a.k.a SmartEdit Writer

Free. Great for novel writing, especially if you're super used to Microsoft Word. It has the same look and feel, so if you're considering transitioning, this is a great fit. Just like the ones above, it lets you go chapter by chapter and scene by scene so you can easily view your novel and rearrange it to your liking. Disclaimer that I have not used this because I hate Microsoft Word so much it's unreal.

8. yWriter

Free. yWriter seems pretty similar to novelWriter, but is only for Windows. I have Mac, so I haven’t tried this one but it looks nice and uncomplicated.

9. NovelEasy

Free. Browser-based, so you can use this if you have a ChromeBook (4-8 require Mac or Windows to run). It has a similar set up and some similar features, but it goes by chapters, not chapters and scenes. However, it does still have the option to see your daily progress with word count, time spent writing, etc. Disclaimer that I have not used this, but it looks like a good alternative if you can't run the aforementioned programs.

I haven't tried Scrivener (since it's paid), but I've heard good things about it. I'm not sure if there's anything included you couldn't get elsewhere for free. Campfire is free, but I'm unsure if it's free like Airtable or like Notebook. If I check it out, I'll update this post with my thoughts on it.

TLDR: What I’ve been using to write is Airtable (#2 on the list) for worldbuilding, characters, and outlining, Google Docs (#1) for at least the first draft, and novelWriter (#4) for the second draft onward since it’s so much easier to move scenes around and see what else you need to edit.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writblr #writerscommunity #writing

[manonamora-if]

WELLLLLL The last weeks have been a mess and a half. Don't want to get into it. It's probably going to stay messy for a while. whomp whopm :/

Onto what's been happenings. I missed last week, so here's a recap of what I did on that 3rd week of January:

I made a new Zine (CTRL+SHIFT+ZUT+ALORS), with the vibes of lost content/games and weird programs. The Zine is downloadable in both French and English. Also, you can use it as a prompt if you want!

I was working on my Recipe Jam entry (but didn't finish because I kept fighting Adventuron and all the conditional statements...).

Also continued to review a bunch of games (see @manonamora-if-reviews).

And here what happened this week:

I finished my entry to the Recipe Jam: Not Another Sad Meal - a short cooking sim parser (easy! with walkthrough and help!)

I've also done a couple of fixes for the Sugarcube Guide (mainly typo + new indexes)

Also done a mini-fix for Meeting the Parents

Continued to play and review a shit ton of games (got the 3rd place on the Reviewer board, need about 100 reviews to get to the next one...)

A longer note on Harcourt:

I've been going at the coding of the file this week, and I think I cleared at least 1/5th of the file (I've mainly done the easy passages). The maze was insanely long to write and edit... it is now a pain to code. Will people actually see all the written text? probably not. I may have the untested and unformatted version done in a week or two.

Writing wise, MelS is finishing the 2nd ending path for Chapter 6 (it's a bummer one, I've already cried yall...). And he has 2 more ending paths to write before moving to the editing bit.

We're seeing the end with this...

Some other neat things:

An Eggcellent Preparation got 3rd place for Best Puzzle-Focused Game at the IF Short Game Showcase !! I really wasn't expecting that at all!!!

(not so) strangers in the dark won 1st place for Best Use of Songs at the Shufflecomp! my laziness paid off!

Let's talk IF Events:

The Queer Vampire Game Jam ends in about three weeks. Got a vampire/human story with a LGBT+ cast? Then this is the event for you! (unranked)

Obviously @neointeractives got you covered for Valentine's with the Smoochie Jam: it's all about kisses, love and romance (unranked) - The next Neo-Interactives mini-jam will happen mid-March.

The SeedComp! (Sprouting) ends at the end of February. Come transform someone's idea or asset into a new IF game! See @seedcomp-if for more info ;) (ranked)

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2024 se termine dans un mois! Viendez faire des histoires en français!! <3 (ranked, duh)

The Spring Thing is waiting for your intent to participate until March 1st!

Got a cool talk idea regarding Interactive Fiction, narration, or gameplay? Consider submitting a proposal for this year's Narrascope! They are still looking for people!

Finally, Finally Finish Something 2024. Technically not IF, but if you finished something in January, and want to submit something... (it is ranked, but it also gets hundreds of entries)

I think that's all for the near future? See you for the February check up in a few days....

Also: Anon is back on. Send stuff if you want. (I'll prob do an AMA around the end of February)

#dev log #progress #update #if events #events #interactive fiction

[thecurioustale]

Two questions:

1. You’ve mentioned before that you write on a very, very old laptop called Joshiba. Do you have your ATH and GF drafts backed up somewhere in case it dies? 2. Out of everything you’ve ever written, what’s your favorite sentence?

1. You’ve mentioned before that you write on a very, very old laptop called Joshiba. Do you have your ATH and GF drafts backed up somewhere in case it dies?

Oh yes. Data loss is one of my least favorite things. Losing some fanfic files on the family computer as a kid cemented that aversion into me. And yet I have lost data many times since then, most notably in 2010 when my laptop Archimedes died out of nowhere, which killed most of my music compositions from one of my most important periods.

I'm quite paranoid about data loss. These days I will typically make a backup every three or four months (or less if I have done a lot of writing or otherwise feel the need to back something up sooner), and I have more than one independent backup device.

I actually got a warning just this morning on my main computer about an impending hard drive failure, so I did a full backup of that one and ordered a replacement drive.

2. Out of everything you’ve ever written, what’s your favorite sentence?

That's a deliciously provocative question, and there are so many different ways I could tackle it.

It would very likely be a fiction sentence, as I both care about my fiction more and put more effort into editing and refining it. But I should at least mention that I've done some nonfiction sentences that I'm really proud of. I love it when I can elegantly bring a thesis together, or synthesize a truly fascinating new idea, or perfectly summarize a thing. In all cases, my great nonfiction sentences are masterpieces of insightfulness and clarity. Clarity and insightfulness are the common factors, the reason you would spend your precious time reading my often-verbose, self-indulgent ramblings.

I don't have any such sentences in mind off the top of my head, sadly, or I would happily share one. I suppose I can leave it to anyone who has been a longtime reader of my journal to volunteer any favorites they can think of.

To get on with the fiction:

I put a lot of thought into first sentences: the first sentence in an entire story; the first sentence in a chapter or section; the first sentence introducing a new character; their first sentence of dialogue. When it makes sense to do so, and when I have the opportunity, I also put a lot of thought into last sentences.

There are the "high art" sentences, the ones that attempt some feat of technical prowess or showcase my skills or artistry. These tend to be longer and/or highly stylistic.

There are the "punchy" sentences: short sentences that comprise their own paragraph to underscore a point, ideally to resounding effect.

There are sentences that I am personally biased toward for external reasons, such as ones involving Silence doing Silence stuff.

There are sentences that have deep, personal resonance for whatever reason.

There are the sentences that depart from literality and become in some way transcendental, often assuming an omniscient voice and openly musing in the company of the reader.

There are sentences that don't look like much on their own but become very powerful in context. (Not unlike the aforementioned "punchy" sentences.)

And of course there are miscellaneous sentences that I just like for whatever reason.

(It's also worth noting that, with the way I write, often the great stuff is only resolvable down to the paragraph level, not the level of individual sentences. And some of it is only resolvable down to the scene level, with no great sentences per se even if the scene itself is very strong.)

Different sentences can excel in different ways, each in turn making a compelling case to be my "favorite." I can like sentences because of some aspect of their structure—their rhythm, for instance, or their alliteration or some other literary quality, or their feel on the tongue or in the eye. Or I can like sentences because of their imagery, the contents they convey, irrespective of their structure. Or I can like them because of their meta function, their role in advancing or pulling together the story or important thoughts therein. And so on. I don't consider these various properties comparable, which makes it very difficult to conceive of one supreme sentence above all others.

Even if that weren't so, the way my memory works also makes it virtually impossible for me to select a favorite without going back and rereading all the fiction I've ever written (lol) or whatever subset thereof I think most likely to produce leading candidates for my favorite.

In lieu of this I am quite limited in what my memory is able to recall at the moment on its own. The sentence that has stuck with me the most in recent months is not especially remarkable on its own; it is one of those "Silence doing Silence stuff" sentences and it really loses a lot of its punch without the context of its paragraph and wider scene, and since it is also something of a spoiler I don't think I will post it here, but it's basically an affirmation of her power, which I love.

Since writing the previous paragraph I spent over an hour looking for a good sentence in order to give you something approaching a satisfying answer, but alack my brain was not plugged into creative writing mode at all today and so I have found this a most unapproachable, inapprehensible exercise tonight. It's funny how, some days, it's like the text itself changes. There are times when I absolutely love this stuff, and times when I just don't connect with it at all, and sadly today is one of the latter.

But perhaps if you could refine the question (and catch me on a better day)? I often find that this helps to unlock my mind, if the derivative question has some new substance which helps me to conceive of the query differently.

Anyway! I've written quite a few sentences in my life. Maybe, given my complete uselessness, it would be better to ask the people who have read some of them what they think. I'd be curious to know, myself.

I can tell you one of the leading candidates for my favorite sentences that I haven't written, however. It's from Dickens:

And Scrooge said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard, those were the blithest in his ears.

For context, the preceding sentence is:

He looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured fellows said, "Good morning, sir! A merry Christmas to you!"

And I suppose that says a lot about me.

#Charles Dickens #Philosophy of writing

[pleasurebuttonwrites]

Hung the Moon (Chapter 1)

Masterlist | Chapter 2

Pairings: Jake Lockley x f!Reader

Summary: Your boss has sent you to retrieve an artifact. Jake Lockley is willing to help you. But are you willing to do something in return?

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: smut, technically coercion - but it’s all consensual, public-ish sex, unprotected piv, oral sex (male receiving), swearing

Word count: 2.4K

A/N: This was my first time writing second person fic. It was super fun! No Y/N. Also I’m new to fic in general and I don’t know all the terms or what all to tag. Please let me know if I got anything wrong or should tag something I didn’t. Thanks!

~~~

You’re sitting at an outdoor cafe in London waiting for your contact. You’re finally meeting him after months of messages and a few brief phone calls. He says he can get you what you’re searching for. And it’s not a moment too soon. Your boss has been breathing down your neck. He’s already sent his thugs after you twice and you had to sweet talk your way out of it. You’ve made so many promises and you’re really not sure you’ll be able to keep them. All of it comes down to this contact and what he can deliver.

You focus on the glass of water in front of you - you know better than to look around like you’re waiting for someone. If anyone is watching you, you can’t appear nervous. But you are. You watch bead after bead of condensation form and slip down the smooth glass as the minutes tick by. Your heart pounds in your chest when you start to think he might not show.

Then from the corner of your eye, you see someone. Your breathing picks up and you can hear your heart pound in your ears because he’s the absolute last person you want to see. You recognize him from the photo in his file. The heavy brow and large nose. Your mark, one Marc Spector, mercenary. You’re sure he doesn’t know who you are - how could he? But you turn your face away in any case hoping he’ll be gone in a minute.

Instead he heads straight for your table. He drapes his jacket over the chair across from you and sits down. You’re frozen to the spot, waiting to see what he’s going to do.

“I didn’t think you’d still be waiting,” he tells you - in Spanish. Your brain slowly realizes two things: one, Marc doesn’t speak Spanish, at least it’s not listed in his file. And two, he sounds exactly like your contact: Jake Lockley.

“What the fuck?” you say a little louder than you expected to. The women at the table next to you glance over.

“Tranquilo,” he says. Take it easy. “It’s me, Jake.”

He says it simply like he’s stating the obvious. You continue to stare at him. What can you even say?

He looks at you, partly confused, partly concerned. Then his brows shoot up in realization. “Oh, shit. I didn’t know that you knew what he looked like. I’m not Marc.”

“If you’re not Marc, then, what, are you two like twins or something? Seriously, what the fuck is going on?”

“No, not exactly,” he says.

You get up to leave but he reaches out and holds onto your wrist to stop you. “Do you want the s-” - he stops before he mentions the name publicly - “the amulet” - he calls it instead - “or don’t you?”

It’s not just that you want it, if you don’t get it, you’re dead. You sit back down. But you still don’t know what’s going on. You’re not even convinced that this guy isn’t Marc.

“Mira, I know you don’t believe it, but I’m not Marc.” Probably due to the look on your face, he elaborates, “Yes, this is Marc’s body, but I’m Jake.”

After a moment to think you ask, “So you’re like, what do they call ‘em, an alter?”

He nods. This was not in Marc’s file. You’re going to have to do a lot more research on this guy.

You still find it hard to believe. But the alternative, that he’s really Marc and he’s just pretending to have an alter named Jake to fuck with you, just doesn’t sound like the guy you researched. He’s a ruthless mercenary, sure, but nothing to suggest that he’s a sick sadistic fuck.

You study him, trying to decide if you trust him or not. You’re thinking that you might not have a choice even if you don’t. He looks right back at you, and there’s an openness to the way he doesn’t avoid your gaze. There’s no challenge to it. He actually just looks a bit…tired. You decide you think he’s telling the truth

“How do I know Marc isn’t listening in right now? He cannot find out about this.”

“Relax, he doesn’t even know I exist, ok? I told you I can get you what you’re looking for. And this is how.” He gestures at his body.

Your eyes travel over his body at his gesture, from the cap on his head and the soft brown curls escaping beneath it, to the hard line of his jaw, to his broad shoulders and the way his biceps strain the sleeves of his t-shirt. You’d be lying if you said Marc’s picture didn’t at times drive you to distraction. More than once you’d had to give yourself a release just so you could get back to focusing on your research.

You mentally shake yourself out of it, but if you’re not mistaken, Jake has noticed you looking at him. If the smirk on his face is any indication.

“Are you sure he has it?” you ask him.

He hesitates, then nods. That’s not much reassurance but even if this is a dead end, you have no other leads. You have no choice but to jump feet first. “Alright, what’s the play?”

“I can get you into his flat.”

You’re quiet as you think that over. “Why don’t you just retrieve it from his place and we can make the exchange tomorrow?”

He looks away. “Because I don’t think it’s in his flat.”

You bite back the string of curses that jump on your tongue. “Then what the f-. What good is getting into his place then?”

“He’s got like a thousand maps and papers and shit that might be like, I don’t know, a clue. I don’t know what to look for, but I’m guessing you do.”

You low-key want to strangle him for this shitty lead, but it’ll have to do. “When can you get me in?”

“Hold on a second,” he says. “Let’s talk payment first.”

“Name your price.”

“5 mil.”

You scoff and glance away. No way in hell you can secure that, not for what he’s giving you. And you feel sick at the idea of overpromising to your boss again. But if Jake doesn’t budge, you’re screwed.

When you look back, Jake is taking you in with his eyes. A chilly breeze rolls in - it’s the first day that summer has given way to fall - and it ruffles the thin material of your shirt sending goosebumps over your arms and causing your nipples to harden. You squirm in your seat under his gaze.

He licks his lips before he says, “I’ll take 1 mil, and the rest… you can pay another way.”

He gazes at you steadily before his eyes fall to your lips. You clench your thighs because you can feel that deep ache start up and you know you’re soaking your panties. It might just be your pussy talking but you’re more than up for paying him this way. And the 1 mil will be easy to get.

He sort of chuckles and you’re pretty sure it’s because the look on your face is pure unadulterated lust.

“I’ll take some of that payment now,” he says and stands up. He grabs his jacket and motions for you to follow.

You play it cooler than you feel, rising and following after him. You’re worried that you’re so wet that there’s a wet patch on the outside of your pants and that people will see. But the thought also turns you on more.

Jake leads you around to the alley behind the cafe. Down the other end is a busy street, and you can see pedestrians stroll by. If they were to look they’d be able to see you, but you’re far enough away they wouldn’t see much. The end closest to you is a walkway but it’s deserted. There’s a building that shields you from the street beyond, but who knows who could be watching from the windows.

Jake closes the distance between you and backs you up against the brick wall of a building. You’re enveloped in his heat when his body comes into contact with yours. He cups your face with both hands and his lips part yours as he sucks one lip then the other before sliding his tongue into your mouth. His lips are softer than you imagined but oh so strong. You have to practically fight to kiss him back. You break away so you can suck on his neck and when you reach the hollow above his collarbone he groans and presses his hips into you. You can feel how big his need for you is through his pants. You can’t help but moan.

You instinctively reach for him, to take him in your hand but he grabs your wrist. With his other hand he pops open the button on your pants and unzips them. He slips his hand into your panties and when he slides his fingers between your folds and feels how wet you are he exhales in a rush. He finds your clit and makes circles around it, starting slow but picking up speed as you clutch his shoulders. Your hips start to buck with how good he’s making you feel. He steadies you and holds you in place. He buries his face in your neck, whispering - in Spanish - about how beautiful you are and placing the softest kisses on your neck.

You can’t stop clenching your thighs around his hand and you know that you’re close. Jake seems to know it too because he abruptly pulls his hand from your pants. You whimper from the loss of his touch and you whimper again when you see him put his two fingers in his mouth and suck them clean of your juices. He grins at you and you don’t think you can take another second without him inside you. You start to undo his pants and he stands still watching your face with half-lidded eyes as you tug them down. Your eyes go wide when you see how thick it is, and not just the head but all the way down. You wrap your hand around him and he lets you stroke it one time before he spins you around. He slides your pants down your legs and you brace yourself against the wall - the rough brick prickling your palms - as he lines himself up behind you. With your pants around your ankles you can’t spread your legs for him and you can feel his thick cock pushing between your thighs.

His arm is wrapped around your middle holding you in place which is a good thing because when he finally thrusts into you, there’s no way you’d have been able to keep steady. You’re so wet for him that you take him well and the fullness of him inside you is oh so satisfying. He slides over that spot deep inside you and before you can stop yourself you cry out. He doesn’t miss a beat before saying, “That’s right. Let them all know what we’re doing back here.”

You wonder if he’s being sarcastic but he sounds so eager you don’t think he is. Another loud moan slips from you as he varies his thrusts and he says, in a voice more strained than before, “Let them know this is the best fuck you’ve ever had.”

That pushes you over the edge and you start to cum over his cock. You reach back with one hand to grip his thigh and he rides you through your orgasm, making sure you feel every last ounce of pleasure with your release. When your body settles and softens, he gently pulls out of you. He pulls your pants up for you and kisses the back of your neck. Both of you are breathing hard and you can feel his heart beating through his chest on your back. After a moment of tenderness he whispers in your ear, “Get on your knees for me.”

You turn to face him and your breath hitches at the look of pure need on his face. You kiss his mouth hungrily and he moans into yours, before you drop to your knees. Small bits of gravel against press through the fabric of your pants, but your whole attention is on his cock, glistening with your juices. You slide your tongue along the base of his shaft all the way up to his head. You love tasting yourself on him. He leans forward to brace himself and you let the motion push his head past your lips. You can’t take him far and he doesn’t push you. You just focus on relaxing your jaw and moving your tongue. You use your hand to work his base and once you get into a rhythm it’s like time ceases to pass and you could worship him forever.

He places a hand gently on the back of your head. You can hear him muttering curses in Spanish which turn into groans as his hand makes a fist in your hair. You don’t stop working him as he starts to release in your mouth. His seed is hot and salty and each spasm delivers a fresh load on your tongue. You suck every last drop from him before you let him pull out. He pulls your head back and your mouth falls open, showing him his seed on your tongue. You love the way he stares as he wipes up your bottom lip with one swipe from his thumb and then releases your hair. You savor his taste for one more moment before you swallow his cum.

He helps you to your feet and he watches your face as he zips and buttons your pants for you. You’re not sure what he’s seeing but he’s wearing the cockiest expression. And fuck, if that doesn’t make you want a second round. He zips himself up and bends to retrieve his jacket. He slips it on and pulls out his driving gloves from the pockets. He steals knowing glances at you as he tugs them on. Then he fetches a piece of paper from his pocket and holds it out to you.

“Meet me at this address at 3am tomorrow.” He pulls you in for a rough kiss. “Don’t forget the cash.”

Masterlist | Chapter 2

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley smut #moonknight fic