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maniculum · 6 months

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Bestiaryposting: Wutugald Results

All right, time to see what everyone came up with for the Wutugald! Again, if that statement confuses you, you may find an explanation at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting . If you want a refresher on the description the artists were working with, here is the original post:

This was a pretty good creature to start with, I think; the random number generator did us a solid with this one. It laid to rest some concerns I had: will people be able to put aside their real-world knowledge of these animals and draw as if they had never heard of them? Yes, apparently -- a number of comments and notes indicated that several participants had guessed what the Wutugald was, refrained from sharing that information, and drew something that fit the description while being nevertheless a fully distinct animal. I was also concerned about some of the upcoming entries that specify a type of animal (bird, serpent, &c.), wondering if that constraint would be a problem -- but a number of people drew some Very Good Birds for this one, so I feel reassured that future entries that are Explicitly A Bird will still be material we can have fun with.

So, let's see what people created. I'm putting these in roughly the order in which they appeared, below the cut:

@cosmic-flora (link to post here) produced this in Paint pretty shortly after the original post went up, and posted it with a brief explanation of their design decisions -- they were the first but not the last to interpret the rigid spine as spikes and the single tooth as a beak, and also to provide the creature with claws for digging.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) was also quick off the mark, posting this the same evening along with an explanation of their design process. I'm genuinely impressed by how quickly they were able to draw something so naturalistic -- this went up within like four hours of the original post. This was also the first (but again not the last) to include an apparent reference to the Wutugald's ability to change sex by including both male genitalia and noticeable teats. Also, I wonder if the coat pattern on the baby is a sneaky reference to the animal this is based on, as Silverhart does indicate that they figured it out.

@elodieunderglass (link to post here) created this rendition, which I think does a good job at capturing the vibe in the bestiary entry, of a creature that the medieval author clearly sees as discomfiting and somewhat sinister. That is a grin that makes me worry about the critter's intentions.

@geeoharee (link to post here) posted this along with a brief explanation of their design decisions. The human face and the speech bubble are great, I think -- it makes me smile. I think this is the first non-mammalian Wutugald, but several more come later.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) drew this with a dip pen, apparently, which is cool. Also this might be the cuddliest-looking version, but my desire to hug it probably says more about my own sense of self-preservation than anything else. That is a cute face, right? It's not just me?

@cinqueform (link to post here) produced this wonderfully medieval-styled image. We can see here the ruler-straight spine and the depiction of the Wutugald's sexual ambiguity, as well as a human-like face for imitating speech. Also a very nice stylized letter W.

@rautavaara (link to post here) has also done a medieval-style rendition, which is excellently sinister in presentation. That is a Worrying Creature. It's also the first (but again not the last) avian interpretation of the Wutugald, which I think really works. Also I'm not sure if this is a sneaky nod to what the animal actually is, or just a case of "great minds think alike", but Rautavaara's interpretation of the rigid spine is very similar to the one in the actual Aberdeen Bestiary illustration I will show y'all at the end of this post.

@spontaneousmusicalnumber (link to post here) posted this along with a brief explanation of their design process. I think they're right about the side pattern being appropriate for a bestiary critter.

@strixcattus (link to post here) did another avian rendition of the Wutugald complete with a fantastic lengthy reinterpretation of the bestiary entry through the eyes of a modern naturalist. Seriously, go check that out, it's very good.

@fidgetyhands (link to post here) provides this image of the Wutugald along with an explanation of their design choices. They also note that limitations in terms of artistic material are probably relevant to a lot of bestiary drawings.

@jamiethekeener (link to post here) gives us this Wutugald in the act of digging. She instructs that we should not ask why her interpretation of Wutugald ended up being so unsettling, which I cannot deny that it is. (That smile... that damn smile.) I also want to highlight the interpretation of the rigid spine as a shield-like plate along the back.

@thewhetherman (link to post here) gives us this rather-frightening-looking creature, along with a brief commentary that definitely ups the spook factor on this whole thing.

@bruncikara (link to post here) also went with a medieval stylization, with a very period-appropriate pose and frame. We can see again some digging claws and a nod to the animal's sexual ambiguity. Wicked-looking single tooth, also.

@mobileleprechaun (link to post here) has given us what I think is our only invertebrate Wutugald by interpreting the rigid spine as a shell and the single tooth as a radula. Shown here with its half-lion offspring.

@illogarithmil (link to post here) has also taken inspiration from medieval bestiary art, noting the unusual color and perspective choices typical of the genre. Note the straight tail, the skull, and the doorway in the background -- presumably into a tomb of some sort. The diamond-pupilled eye is striking.

@qwertyprophecy (link to post here) gives us this Wutugald who manages to strike an excellent balance between "cute" and "villainous". Like, I would expect to see these hopping around to signal that the Protagonists have entered the Sinister Fantasy Kingdom, but it's also kind of adorable. I think the gemstone pupil helps with that vibe. Vulture face is for easier eating of corpses, I assume.

@aaclysm (link to post here) provides both a final version and a "messy bus sketch". We can see the stone-like eyes, the single tooth interpreted as a beak, and the rigid spine interpreted as a carapace. Kind of griffin-like vibes, which I'm enjoying.

@scarlettbookworm (link to post here) gives us this drawing, which has some delightful details. I like the lines on the shadow, which I assume is meant to indicate the magical effects associated with it. Also love that the Wutugald's ability to change sex is acknowledged by giving it a little trans-pride flag to wave with its tail. I believe the text in its speech bubble is intended to be word-salad, demonstrating that it imitates but does not understand human speech.

@pachelbelsheadcanon (link to post here) gives us another very cute Wutugald. (More of these than I expected are downright cuddly.) I'm particularly delighted by the attempt to take the whole "single tooth that closes like a casket" thing at its word and make it work. They provide in their post an explanation of what's going on with that and some other interesting zoological details of their creation. I also enjoy the idea that the Wutugald talks like bot-generated spam.

@changeinenthalpy (link to post here) has produced this fairly-intimidating-looking critter. This definitely looks like something that could dig up and eat a corpse if it wanted. Nasty claws on that beast. The shiny gemstone eyes give it an unsettling gaze also.

@aethergeologist (link to post here) gives us this creature, which I both want to pet and also want to keep a healthy distance from because those claws look like they could mess you up. They provide an explanation for their design choices in the linked post.

@karthara (link to post here) has added to our store of avian Wutugalds, and includes a brief explanation of their design choices in the linked post. I like how happy it seems in the side view -- all excited about its corpse-digging plans for the evening.

@moustawott (link to post here) created this delightfully prehistoric-looking beast, and provides a detailed account of their design choices in the linked post. I think the snapping-turtle face really works here, and this is probably one of the most dangerous-looking interpretations of the Wutugald.

@cattorneyatlaw (link to post here) has drawn an unusually porcine Wutugald. Probably one of the spookier pig drawings I've seen. They provide an explanation of their design choices -- including "why a pig" -- in the linked post.

@curiouslyodd (link to post here) has given us a Wutugald with a very unsettling face and an interesting fur pattern. In the linked post, they not only provide an explanation of their design choices, but also a detailed and well-written reinterpretation of the bestiary entry based on the animal as they have drawn it. Go check that out.

@treesurface (link to post here) has done an interestingly chimeric Wutugald, and includes a brief explanation of their design choices in the linked post. I like the head particularly.

And... hm. We're not going to be able to fit all of the images in one post. The limit is thirty, right? Stay tuned for a bit, I guess. The remaining Wutugalds will be in a reblog of this post, along with the reveal of the animal's identity and the Aberdeen Bestiary's interpretation of the creature.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #wutugald

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pedgito · 2 years

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Ahhh you did my breakup sex request you literally made me cry!!! I had an idea for a part 2(if you ever want to write it lol) so two months after reader starts dating a guy who can be easily her soulmate but she gets bored cuz everything is too perfect (except the sex cuz she can’t help but compares it to eddie) and somehow one night reader ends up in eddies trailer again idk something like that haha. You’re literally the best author your writing is so good, so so talented 🖤

author’s note: i mixed this with another request i got here, but this is a continuation of this request if anyone's reading this before the other part. it's not necessary but the context will help.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), fem!reader, makeup sex?, cheating (sort of? reader is over her boyfriend and he's an asshole so yeah), exhibitionism (barely, they're in private but other people are around), angst, confessions, jason is an asshole, eddie is degrading of the readers bf toward her, multiple orgasms, fights (brief description of injury), lots of smut, ect. let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.7k

You can’t even bring yourself to look at him, most of the time. Eddie’s done a perfect job at ignoring, pretending you don’t exist, plucking you out of his life—just like you asked, but you weren’t sure what hurt more—knowing how easily he could move on, or how badly you regretted all of it in the first place.

It didn’t matter that Eddie was struggling every day to not look your direction, hug you, just be in your presence—it was a constant, daily reminder of how badly he’d fucked up. Maybe if he was a better boyfriend, maybe if he paid attention more often and didn't throw himself into everything he loved so passionately, then you would have stayed.

It doesn’t take long for you to move on, but you thrive on codependency, being with someone, and you never expected that person to be Jason—but he just fits, or, you made him fit. You have similar interests, he’s sweet to you when he tries to be, and he always knows how to make you feel special; the sex was another story.

And it wasn’t that Eddie wasn’t sweet or caring—Eddie was all of that, but you melded with Jason on a level that Eddie couldn’t reach, at least that’s what you told yourself.

Jason was performative in a different way—Eddie loved to make a scene, grab everyone’s attention, but the affection he showed you was never meant for show. He kissed you in private, told you all the filthiest things in the world that would have you blushing in public, but those words were meant for you and no one else. He’d hold your hand when you were nervous, or rub your back when you were worried. Eddie always knew when to lean in and when to back away—with Jason, it was never genuine.

He only ever kissed you in front of his friends and constantly bolstered himself up on a pedestal when you were around, like you were just another worthless person to impress—and that’s when you realized that the only thing Jason really needed was approval. He only acted like he enjoyed the same things you did to come off as likable, he bought you expensive gifts to make you feel worthy, and he was everything that every girl could ask for, but not you.

And as horribly as you feel about it, the sex was the breaking point. He was quick and rushed and never focused on anything but himself, it was such a whiplash experience from what you had with Eddie that it left you in tears, most of the time—you’d shove Jason out of your house quickly afterwards, curl up on your bed, and weep until it hurt less. It was your own selfishness that wanted to you to be taken care of too; sex was a shared experience, and you enjoyed it, it only seemed fair that it was equal on both ends. Jason didn’t see it that way, unfortunately.

Jason accosts you in front of his friends at lunch that Friday, his arms winding around your waist as he leans over to kiss you on the cheek, flashing the trademark toothy grin at you.

“You’re coming to the party, right?” He asks, the watchful eyes of others not giving you much of a chance to weasel your way out of his grasp. “Everyone’s gonna be there.”

“I guess,” You shrug, forcing a fake smile as he lets you go just as quickly, taking a seat at the head of the lunch table, “did Lucas ever get back to you?”

“He said he’d go,” Jason taps his fork against the tray, moving the food around, “but he wants me to invite all of them—some shit about being inclusive or whatever.”

“All of Hellfire?” You ask, eyebrows pulling up in confusion. You take a glance over at the table, eyes immediately drawn toward Eddie—he’s already looking at you when you turn your head and he panics, like he’s been caught, and quickly averts his attention toward Dustin.

“They’re all fucking freaks,” Jason says snidely, “If any of them try to ruin my party, they’re dead.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” You assure him, ignoring his obvious distaste and resentment toward the idea. “I doubt they’ll even go.”

“Yeah, let’s hope so.”

Jason abandons you before lunch is over, making a weak excuse about needing to talk to the boys in private—but really, you didn’t care. But, they snatch Lucas up in the process, much to Eddie’s dismay.

So when you finally leave the lunchroom to reach your locker, fiddling with the stupid lock that never wants to open, Eddie corners you. He notices the struggle, the frustrated look on your face, tongue poking out the side of your mouth.

He pulls it from your hand without questions, putting in the code and yanking at the lock with force—it opens on the first time. Eddie doesn’t have the same motivation to act smug about, his mouth pulled into a tight line.

“Thanks,” You mumble, open the locker door to retrieve your school books—he still hasn’t left, “—did you need something?”

“Tell your boyfriend to stop spreading his stink over my table,” He says with a harsh undertone, “it makes everyone uncomfortable—especially Lucas.”

“He’s not going to listen to me,” You tell him, “he never has.”

You two had only been together a couple months, but Jason always had a mind of his own, and was always forcing you to do things you wouldn’t normally do—he had to have that control. You didn’t like fancy dinner dates or extravagant nights out, but with Jason, that’s all you got.

You just wanted movies on the couch and cheap delivery pizza, to talk for hours about books and pop culture, everything that seemed interesting to you, and you wouldn’t even mind hearing him ramble on about basketball—it was the principle of it all, Jason didn’t like to put in the effort.

Eddie always had, you were only realizing that much too late.

And you can’t help your curiosity, mind racing with thoughts.

“Are you going to the party?” You ask, slipping your locker closed, taking a small glance at Eddie.

“Don’t know yet,” He shrugs. Eddie knew when to stay away, but with Jason, he couldn’t help himself, “maybe.”

He knew you were miserable, it was written all over your face, your mood, it had altered your personality into something he didn’t even recognize.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.” You tell him honestly—it wasn’t a warning or a threat, you were just terrified of what would unfold if he did.

Jason knew of your past with Eddie and as much as he tried not to seem bothered by it, he couldn’t grasp the idea of someone wanting to be paired up with the town freak, Eddie Munson.

“You’re not my boss.” Eddie smirks with an immense amount of smugness.

“I’m not trying to be,” You tell him softly, “I’m just—I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

And it’s a terrible idea, in fact—but it doesn’t stop Eddie from showing up to the party with Chrissy Cunningham by his side.

“Uh, Lucas,” You nudged the boy standing beside you, cup in hand, “did he tell you anything about that?”

Lucas is just as wide-eyed as the rest of the party, gawking at the two of them like animals in a cage. Chrissy is noticeably unfazed, as always, smiling bigger than ever. The cheerfulness wasn’t an act either, it was just her. The only thing different about Eddie is that he isn’t wearing his jacket, which strikes you as odd because he never leaves the house without it, it was like his security blanket.

“No, nothing—“ Lucas takes a glance at Jason, who’s just as tense as the rest of you, but his eyes are brimmed with an anger he only got around Eddie, for whatever reason that was, he never talked about it either, “—you might wanna check on him.”

Jason sees you coming before you even touch him, hand coming up in waiting to wrap around you waist, like you were an accessory. “Hey, it’s fine,” You try to soothe him, your free hand wrapping around his own waist, hoping he’ll turn his attention toward you, “maybe Chrissy didn’t want to come alone.”

“But Chrissy—why her?” Jason asks, voice laced with jealousy. You roll your eyes noticeably, it felt like a losing battle anymore—relationships just weren’t for you.

“Everyone loves Chrissy,” You tell him, his eyes glancing toward you briefly, a micro twitch of his face at those words, “I don’t think Eddie’s immune to that, as much as you want him to be.”

You watch Chrissy yank Eddie toward the kitchen, his feet struggling to keep up as they squeak against the tile floor, letting her wrap his fingers in between hers. You’ve never seen Eddie talk to Chrissy, so it was just as much of a mystery to you.

And you knew the history with Jason and Chrissy, maybe he wasn’t really over her, maybe you were just a rebound—but so was he. That’s why you don’t stop him when he hurdles toward the kitchen, the rest of his posse hot on his tail, aside from Lucas. He grabs your hand before you make the decision to follow, shaking his head in warning.

“We should stay out of it.” He warns, “You know how he gets.”

“Yeah,” You nod pointedly, “That’s exactly the problem.”

“Munson,” Jason’s voice booms over the music, the entirety of the party turning their heads in his direction, ready to witness the carnage, “funny seeing you here.”

“You invited me.” He says, which is more of an attempt to make Jason look like an idiot.

He’s successful, gaining a few snickers and badly disguised laughs with a cough.

“It wasn’t a legitimate invitation,” Jason confesses, “—and Chrissy, wow—that’s a hell of surprise, how do you two know each other?”

They both stumble over their words for a moment before Chrissy finally answers.

“I just asked him,” She settled on, “I didn’t want to come alone.”

It shouldn’t hurt Eddie as much as it did, his ego is wounded—Chrissy was cute, nice, but it was a low blow on her part, since he was the one supplying her with drugs, all while managing to keep it a secret.

“So, pity,” Jason laughs, tipping his cup in Eddie’s direction, “—look, dude, I’d save yourself the embarrassment and just leave—it’s not like anyone wants you here—“

The last part forces you to put a stop to his assault, pulling gently at his arm, not wanting to become a secondary victim to his attack. “Jason, come on—everyone’s staring,” It took you a moment to realize that even the music had died down, all eyes on the four of you collected in the kitchen, ”babe, please.”

Eddie snorts an amused laugh at that, hand coming to rest against the counter top—he wasn’t even looking at Jason anymore, his eyes directly on you. You could see how badly he wanted to say something, make some snide comment, get back for all that you’d put him through—but it’s Jason that attacks instead, albeit, at your expense.

“I see why you like her,” Jason nods toward you, “—the mouth on her, it’s something—say, is that why you came? Did you think she was gonna take you back?”

You’ve never seen Eddie mad, but his face changes on a dime, open hand now closed fist and white knuckled. He could easily take Jason out, but he didn’t want to cause a scene, not in front of you.

But, it’s the next thing out of Jason’s mouth that has him throwing that morale out of the window completely.

“Did you think you could come here and make a trade?” Jason antagonizes—you try to feel hurt, but it almost sounds like a good idea, you couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore, and maybe it had been like that for weeks, but tonight was the breaking point.

Eddie punches first, slamming Jason against the ground as his fist connects with his eyebrows—again and again, until there’s blood covering his rings and Jason’s begging for relief.

No one seems surprised—almost relieved that someone finally dealt with Jason’s shit, but it still pulls at your gut, that guilt as you stared down at him, his eyebrow split open at end, blood pouring and pooling quickly into his hand.

Lucas senses your hesitance, kneeling down at Jason’s side, “Go—get him out of here.” He begs, shoving you away and into Eddie, his fists curled tightly at his side. You yank once, twice, until he finally gives in and lets you drag him away from the majority of the party.

The only unlocked door you can find is Jason’s bedroom, which is a horrible juxtaposition to your life. But, Eddie’s covered in blood and you know there’s enough stuff to clean him up in there, so you drag him along, silently. Eddie can’t even force himself to speak.

You move diligently, locking the door to the larger bathroom, guiding him toward the edge of the counter, squatting down to find the first aid kit under the sink before slamming it against the marble surface, finally breaking Eddie from his trance.

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand extends, allowing you to grasp it. You pull gently at his rings, letting the metal clink into the sink, covered in a sticky crimson red. The impression of his own rings had cut into his knuckles at how hard the blow to Jason’s face had been, his own blood mixed with what you could only assume was Jason’s.

“That was stupid.” You say quietly, turning on the sink to let the water run over the rings, washing away as much blood as you could, guiding his hand under the freezing cold water, it’s even worse than the dull, throbbing pain in his hand.

“Do you let him talk about you like that all the time?” Eddie asks suddenly, face pulled up in frustration, jealousy.

“It’s Jason—who cares.”

“You broke up with me for that?” He pulls his hand back suddenly, annoyed with the bitter cold of the water, but also how dismissive you were being. “Was I really that horrible of a boyfriend?”

“Eddie, no,” You say honestly, guiding his hand back toward you, rubbing a small alcohol patch against the skin, his face seemingly unfazed, “—why does this even matter?”

He goes quiet again, he feels the anger, the resentment, but the last thing he wants to do is take it out on you, not when you’re on the verge of tears—you didn’t even realize amongst all the chaos, it’s only when you finally start to calm, placing the small bandages on Eddie’s knuckles that you feel it settle in.

You clear your throat loudly, shoving his hand gently back toward his chest, slamming the kit closed and returning it to its spot underneath the sink. “Look—I don’t know why you came here tonight, I told you it was a bad idea.”

You face toward the sink, fetching his rings and attempting to wrap them in a towel to dry them, but Eddie stops your movements, taking the balled up material in his hands and placing it back down. “I can look after myself,” He tells you, his undamaged hand wrapping around your bicep, the cold sting of his fingers a shock to your warm skin, feeling overwhelmed and claustrophobic, “—why won’t you look at me?”

You shake your head slightly, eyes downturned and staring at your fidgeting hands, twisting your own dainty rings against the skin.

“Look at me.” Eddie demands softly, “Please.”

He’s met with teary eyes, lips pulled tight to keep any sounds from escaping, his thumb brushes away the stray tear that slips down your cheek.

“Is he always like that?” Eddie asks, whatever anger he felt a few minutes ago forced away, if only for a moment. You needed a friend, he could be that.

You shake your head, unable to admit it to yourself. “Not always—it doesn’t matter, Eddie. I just need to go back downstairs and tell him I’m leaving—he can finally try and get Chrissy back, I know that’s what he’s after.”

“We were coming from a deal,” Eddie tells you abruptly, your eyes pulling up to him in confusion, his hand still resting against your cheek. He hasn’t moved it and you couldn’t be bothered to move it either, “—she’s one of my regulars.”

You laugh at the absurdity, giggle bubbling from your chest. “Chrissy, seriously? God—Jason would shit himself if he knew that.” Then again, maybe he did—and maybe that’s why he hated Eddie so much. You didn’t care to find out, Jason was the last thing on your mind.

Still, you couldn’t help but be upset at Eddie for being so irrational, causing a scene, you slap him in the chest suddenly, soft at first, but harder until he has to grip your hands, forcing you to stop. “That was stupid! Why would you do that?”

“I did that for you?” He responds passionately, and it pulls you back, surprised that he even admits it out loud. “Is that such a fucking shock that some cares about you?”

“We’re not together anymore.”

“Yeah—I’m very fucking aware of that,” Eddie snaps, “but I still care, I was your friend first, remember that?”

You’re silent, startled by his words. He’s not angry—just, upset.

“You threw all of that away,” Eddie tells you, “not me—not when I cared about you, liked you, fuck—I almost—I almost thought I loved you, you know?”

“Eddie—“

He doesn’t stop, a never ending flow of confessions. He was pouring his heart out to you in the middle of your ex-boyfriends party, hand still pounding with pain, and done with holding back for so long.

“You were worried about us not liking the same things? That I spent too much time on the things I enjoyed? You didn’t even communicate that to me,” Eddie takes a breath, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration, “maybe I was selfish for asking you to have sex with me that night, but I don’t regret—I never regretted anything in our relationship and if you hated me so much, you should’ve never committed yourself to it.”

“Eddie, I don’t regret anything—“

“And you start dating Jason, really? Jason?”

“Eddie!” You shout, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever heard you yell, stopping for a brief moment to hear you out. “I’m sorry—I should’ve never broken up with you the way I did.”

“Well, you did.”

And you feel it hit you, the urge to say it—it felt like you’re world was closing in on you and if you didn’t say it now, you’d never have the chance,

“I wish I’d never broken up with you at all.” You say softly, taking a step back to lean against the sink, hit with a sudden wave of vertigo or dizziness, the adrenaline of it all finally wearing off, “I can admit that now.”

“You don’t mean that.” Eddie says quietly, hand braced between you too, almost as a defensive mechanism. “Not after making me doubt everything about us.”

“You never did anything wrong,” You admit to him, “I was being selfish, I didn’t want to communicate—I just wanted things to be perfect—my perfect, but I don’t even know what this is now.”

“Relationships aren’t perfect, sweetheart.” He says soothingly, hand fading back slightly, “I’m pretty sure it’s impossible.”

“I’m starting to realize that.” You laugh bitterly, reflecting on all the stuff Jason had put you through, physically and mentally. “Look, I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

“It’s okay.”

It was not okay, but Eddie wanted to make you feel safe, even if he needed time to process everything himself.

You reach your hand forward to slip in his own, his fingers squeeze gently in return, like no time has passed at all. The low hum of the music from downstairs is overwhelming in the silence.

“I can take you home?” Eddie suggests, wanting to ditch this place just as bad. “If that’s what you want.”

You laugh softly at his weak attempt to be chivalrous, even if he was still upset with you, and it doesn’t dawn on you until you’re staring at the locked door of the bathroom, staring at Eddie, that you realized just how pissed you are at Jason—you were so caught up in making sure Eddie was alright that you forgot how cruel Jason had been toward Eddie, at your own expense. And if there was one parting gift you could leave Jason with, it would be this.

Eddie sees it too, the look in your eyes, like a silent agreement that whatever was to happen was just that—you could leave it here and forget about it afterwards, avoid the long awkward talk—just enjoy each other, because you knew you both needed it so desperately.

He’s on you instantly, arms looping around your middle to lift you up onto the counter, spreading your legs open until he is snug, fit between you like the last piece of a puzzle, exactly when you need. His hands are calculated, rough, yanking your head back until your mouth meets his and it feels fucking amazing.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, overwhelmed by the sensation that you gasp loudly, eyes glaring into Eddie’s, his relaxed stare turning heated, his other hand slipping under your thigh, locking it around his hip until your cunt is pressed against the growing tent in his pants. He’s desperate for control and you can’t be bothered to fight it, letting him pull your head back until you’re grunting in pain, his lips latching into your neck greedily, leave a sizable bruise that’s too hard to ignore—and usually you aren’t one for hickeys, but you can’t be bothered to say no. You wanted it.

“Fuck, he really doesn’t touch you like this, does he?” Eddie asks redundantly, he knows Jason can’t, won’t—he’s unable to care about anyone but himself. “I’ve barely even kissed you and you’re already worked up.”

His hands push along the squishy flesh of your thighs, underneath the flowing material of your skirt until his fingertips bump your hip bones, squeezing tightly at the skin until you’re yelping, the small tickling sensation driving you wild.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He demands, leaning forward to sneak his tongue out against your top lip, teasing you greatly before dipping down to slip his tongue past your lips completely, kissing you sloppily. “Need to hear you admit it.”

“He doesn’t,” You rush out through smothered kisses, the sound of your voice swallowed up by Eddie and his eager mouth, “haven't even—he doesn't make me come, it’s been so long.”

“How long?” Eddie asks softly, tipping your chin up with his fingers, pulling back slightly to look at you. “Tell me.”

“Since I’ve had an orgasm?”

He nods, thumb pulling at your bottom lip until it slips away.

“A couple days,” You tell him; it wasn’t a lie, “maybe three.”

“I’m not talking about doing it yourself,” He smiles, the warmth of his breath hitting your face, “has he ever made you come?”

You shake your head, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Eddie makes a small noise of astonishment, not that he’s entirely surprised, but that you allowed it to go on for so long—you, of all people. His hand slips around the back of your neck, thumb pressing against the point where your jaw meets.

“Let’s fix that, yeah?” He nods, urging to move off the counter and follow him. “Lock his door.”

The his makes it even worse, realizing how dirty this feels—but you can’t be bothered to care. You both make a hurried attempt at unlocking the bathroom door, letting Eddie flip the light switch on while you fumble clumsily with his lock, alight with nerves you’ve never felt before, hands shaking with anxiety.

Eddie noticed your hesitation, invading your space until he’s lodged between you and the door, head tilted down to look at you, “Hey—we don’t have to—“

You laugh at yourself, eyes squeezing shut, nose scrunching up in amusement. You feel ridiculous. It was Eddie. Eddie. You had nothing to be worried about.

“God—shut up,” You say endearingly, squeezing his face in your hands until he’s leaning forward to kiss you, large hands traveling down your thighs until you’re jumping into his grip, letting him carry you to the neatly made bed, no doubt to be ruined in a few moments, “—fuck, do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

Eddie cups your cunt, fingers tracing gently over the thin material of your underwear, his eyebrows quirks up in question.

“Yeah?” You nod furiously, the way you jerk at the smallest bit of pressure has him shaking his head in disbelief, “He couldn’t even touch you? You’re kidding me?”

You don’t answer and it causes Eddie to pull back, fully questioning every part of your relationship with Jason; it was a mystery how he could withstand touching you, almost seeming disgusted by it—it baffled Eddie to the point of speechlessness.

“Foreplay? Anything?” Eddie asks.

You shake your head, Eddie tuts softly in response.

“Sweetheart, you deserve so much more.” He says honestly, and you could burst into tears if you weren’t turned on right now, cunt pulsing at every minor touch Eddie made against your opening, sliding slowly up to the sensitive nub of your clit.

“Look at you,” He says tantalizingly, head tilted up slightly in a way to mock your own, your own head tilting back toward the pillows, mouth open on a wordless gasp, “I think I can make you come before I’m even inside you.”

You couldn’t even argue, it was absolutely possible.

Eddie carefully slips his hand up and under the thin barrier of your panties, the first bare touch of his finger like electricity, sliding through your slick and back toward your clit, the ease of friction was too much, your hand grabbing desperately at his forearm, the muscles flexing underneath your grip with every movement. Eddie leans over you more, free hand rising to brush the loose hair from your face, thumb rubbing gently against your forehead, his wide eyes boring into your own.

You moan without shame, openly and allowing the sounds to mix with the steady beat of the music. Eddie’s enjoy it too much, mouth opening with every sound you made, another easy attempt to mock you, flashing his big smile every time you caught on, but it didn’t stop you—and it definitely didn’t stop him. He’s rubbing deliberate, tight circles against your clit, determined to get you off quickly and break that long running streak that Jason had forced you into—none of that existed anymore.

“Eddie, huh—I’m gonna,” You breath catches, back arching off the bed as he stops for a moment, leaning forward to bite along the side of your jaw, gently at your cheek, whispering into your ear.

“Where are your manners?” Eddie asks softly, “Didn’t forget them, did you?”

“Fuck, please—please, Eddie. I can’t take this.” You beg, moaning loudly as he continued his movements, with fervor and quickness, “—oh, Eddie—I’m so close—just want to come, please?”

“Go ahead.” He whispers softly, face resting gently against the side of yours as you come with a drawn out moan, hips jerking through your orgasm, his middle finger working you through the high until you finally come back down, tapping gently at his hand until he finally gives you some relief, his smile entirely too smug.

“He’s really missing out,” Eddie tells you, voice soft, “You look so pretty when you come.”

And you don’t think you’ve ever blushed harder, shoving Eddie’s face away from yours playfully, giggling when he nips at your shoulder. You could drag this out, indulge in everything you missed out on for the last couple of months, but you really just wanted Eddie inside you—sex with him was…palpable. There was always a charge of something within it, a connection that you didn’t have with Jason—it was like a drug.

“I could say the same thing for you,” You tease, yanking Eddie down against you, letting him shift until he’s settled between your legs, “—but I think I might need a refresher.”

Eddie pulls at his belt, shirt lifted halfway up his stomach as he works against the material, tossing his belt, then pants to the side—and somehow manages to pull your skirt and panties down in one go, save for your shirt. “Condoms?” He asks, when he’s finally settled back between your legs.

Fuck, you really should have thought about that.

You lean over to the bedside table, rummaging through Jason's cluttered drawer and finally find the box, albeit empty, as you turn it over to shake out on the bed, discarding the useless cardboard.

Eddie chuckles from beside you, palming at his hard cock, your own face still filled with worry, anticipation. “Won’t be the first time, right?” You shake your head sheepishly, “—did he ever—“

You couldn’t stand the idea of sex with Jason without a condom, it was never a consideration or a question—it was the rule.

Another small head shake, Eddie’s grin grows wider—he’s unashamed and cocky as he hands roam his cock, tugging leisurely, he notices your gaze pulling to his hands—and it’s been so long, you just can’t help yourself.

“You want it?” Eddie asks teasingly, his free hand coming down to run through your folds, “You think you deserve it?”

The real answer is no, but you nod your head anyways, your hand coming up to yank at the bottom of his shirt, pulling him forward, cock nudging the top of your cunt lightly.

“Don’t go quiet on me now,” He chided, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock down the seam of your cunt, his breath slightly labored as he leans over you, twisting the thin cotton of your shirt in his hands, using it as leverage to pull you against him, his hips rocking gently, “do you, sweetheart?”

You gasp softly, your grip on his shirt tighter, the holds on each other like a vice, using one another as anchors, keeping yourself grounded in the moment. “Look at you,” He nods toward your soaked cunt, his dick glistening from your wetness, “—she missed me, didn’t she?”

You nod fervently, “Now answer my question,” Eddie says again, voice low and riddled with a timber that has you clenching around nothing, “do you deserve it?”

“No,” You say honestly, pathetically, but you still lift your hips up higher, forcing him to slip into you momentarily, his hips rocking away in response, “—I don’t, Eddie.”

“That’s right,” He nods, another soft tug at the shirt twisted in his hands and you rock against him once more, “—but I’m feeling generous.”

And he slips in slowly, without warning, your mouth open on a soundless whine as he stretches you open, his face drawn up in concentration. “Fuck—“ He groans, the hand that isn’t holding onto your shirt settles at your side, his thumb pressing against the outline of your hipbone as you breath, adjusting to him—he was bigger than Jason, more confident, and you felt it immediately, “—feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah—yes,” You nod, letting out a soft moan at his gentle thrust, his eyes never leaving your face, half lidded and dark—his eye contact drove you wild, something you’ve never felt before him, he fed off of the connection, wanting to watch you fall apart underneath him, but you were selfish and couldn’t help watching either, “take care of me, Eddie—please?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” He says mockingly, a few more forceful thrusts that had Jason’s bed rocking against the wall, you couldn’t be bothered to care, too caught up in the moment. “—god, it’s been weeks, months since—“

“Since we’ve been together, yeah—I know,” You didn’t want to relive that pain, not with him deep inside you right now. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Eddie’s chuckle dies out on a groan as your cunt clenches around him, already over sensitive from your orgasm a few minutes ago, “I was trying to say since I’ve had sex.” He admits and you can’t help but look shocked.

“You—you haven’t—oh,” You gasp, a sharp snap of his hips has you grasping the sheets, untucking the nicely made bed, “—you really haven’t had—“

Eddie shakes his head lazily, fucking into you at a steady rhythm now, the mix of your moans overpowering whatever music was playing downstairs and if anyone was to turn it down, they’d surely here what was happening several feet above them.

“He doesn’t like you—like this, does he?” Eddie asks harshly, his gaze heated and powerful, his hand loosening from your shirt to slip under your thighs, lifting them up at an angle that has you whining loudly, his cock slipping out of you momentarily before sliding back in roughly, “—can’t even look at you, it’s a fucking shame.”

You nod dumbly, agreeing with whatever he had to say. “He only ever—fuck, he only ever wanted me on my hands and—my, my knees,” You struggle to say, Eddie’s hands squeezing at your thighs relentlessly, pulling you wide and open, his gaze locked on the space where you two were connected, watching himself disappear again and again, mumbling soft, sweet praises that had you stomach clenching with pleasure, “—s’not like this, never like this.”

Eddie’s so lost in his own pleasure that he doesn’t respond, mouth hung open slightly as he moved against you, his soft, pink lips and deep contrast from his flushed face, the sweat of his face making his bangs stick to his forehead, he wouldn’t even remember his name if you asked him.

“Eddie,” You say softly, broken on a gasp as he finally looks at you, his eyes there, but distant, “—I can take over.”

“Fuck, please—“ He sighs, flipping you both over without much problem, your hips locking around his own instinctively—the pace you set is overwhelming and Eddie moans out—if they didn’t know what was going on before, they surely did now. You couldn’t be bothered to care, though.

“Wanna see your tits,” Eddie confesses, fumbling with the bottom of your shirt, “—please, baby.”

It’s a momentary slip, but neither of you address it. You slip the shirt over your head quickly, tossing it off to the side as Eddie leans up, his mouth latching over your breast without hesitation, sucking gently at the flesh, his other hand blindly wrapping around your neck, not squeezing, but resting.

You lean into it, a silent agreement to what he was asking, rocking your hips desperately against his cock, a feeble sound of acknowledgement slipping from your mouth, “Uh huh,” You answer, his face pulling away to look at you, “it’s okay.”

His hand tightens slightly, the pressure another added sensation. Eddie aids in the harsh bounce of your hips, ass slapping loudly against his thighs as he forces back a plethora of moans, trying to save you both some decency when you find the courage to walk downstairs.

“What did I tell you?” He says harshly, neck angling up as he shifts his hand, “That night—when you broke up with me—say it.”

“Never—never would find someone,” You gasp suddenly, the hand not wrapped around your throat coming to work against your clit, his movements quick and deliberate, “—that fucks me like—fuck, like you do—no one takes care of me like you do.”

“Shit—and I was right, wasn’t I?” The fact that he even has the nerve to be so bold at a moment like this is pushing you over the edge, the feeling, the sensations, the anger in his voice—it was all the built up tension Eddie had held back finally breaking free, and you couldn’t take it.

“Yes,” You whine, movements slowing against him as you came, your hands bracing against his chest as you rode out the orgasm, his own hands struggling to latch onto your thighs, the precipice of his own release near, struggling to focus on your words, “—there’s no one, Eddie—fuck, no one like you.”

“Say my name like that again,” He pleads through gritted teeth, “want him to hear you say my name.”

“Eddie.” You say on a sigh, his eyes falling shut as his thighs tense, his movements erratic, sloppy—

“Louder,” He begs, falling back against the ruined bed, pillows and blankets askew, “fuck—say it louder.”

“Eddie,” You moan loudly, mostly out of performances but it’s also just felt so fucking good having him inside you again, moaning out his name with no shame, “—fuck, Eddie!”

“Shit,” He curses, “Move—sweetheart, please.”

He’s there, right there—but you can’t be bothered to care.

“Want you to come inside me, Eddie.” You tell him softly, “Please?”

And if wasn’t the sound of your voice that did him in, it was the faint pout on your face as you sunk down for the last time, his cock spilling inside you, groaning loudly through his orgasm, cursing at the sheer force that it hits him with, “—that was—fuck—“ He breathes out, his shirt sticking to his chest with sweat, “—Jesus Christ.”

Your face pulls up in a smile, watching Eddie process everything, his hands squeezing at the flesh of your thighs gently, comfortingly. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually he comes back down, staring at you with a look that makes you feel vulnerable.

“That was so much better than break up sex,” He laughs tiredly, tugging at your arm until you fall against him, hands braced on either side of his head, “—can I kiss you?”

You nod slowly, his hands lifting your hips to pull himself out of you, but the kiss soothes the loss, warm touches traveling up your spine as he slips his tongue past your lips, kissing you so full it’s overwhelming—the kind of fullness that came with love and history and emotion, you knew you weren’t over Eddie, and he wasn’t over you.

“How are we supposed to walk back downstairs and act normal?” You ask with a lilt, face turning a soft shade of pink at the idea that everyone would know the second they laid eyes on you.

Eddie sits up, bringing you with him—“You should probably clean up first,” He points out knowingly, “and I need my rings.”

“Shit—oh, shit,” You completely forget, so caught up in everything, Eddie helps you off of his lap, throwing your clothes as you run through the bathroom entryway, disappearing for a moment while he dressed, “—can you fix the bed?” Your voice carries, the distant sound as you rustle around, grabbing Eddie’s rings.

“Fuck him,” Eddie scoffs lightly, mocking the offended look on his face as you peer around the door, rings clasped in your hand, “—seriously, fuck him.”

You shake your head with amusement, handing him his jewelry, watching him shove them into the pocket of his jeans.

“You should have thought about that before we fucked in his bed, sweetheart.” And you hated him for being right. “—let me drive you home.”

“Fine,” You sigh, “—but this does not mean we’re back together, Eddie. I still have to break up with him.”

Eddie laughs softly, hand reaching forward to tip your chin up, his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip, “I never said anything about getting back together, sweetheart—but if that’s really what you want—“

You shake your head gently, “We can figure it out—I don’t expect anything after how I broke up with you.”

Eddie smiles, pulling your chin up high, his lips barely grazing against your own, “That isn’t gonna stop me from fucking you, though—someone’s gotta take care of you.”

And it didn’t sound bad at all—everything was complicated, you didn’t know how you could make things work after breaking up with Eddie the first time, but you were willing to give it time; figure things out.

“Now, you’re gonna go look Jason in the eye,” Eddie waits for your nod of understanding, “and break his heart.”

His devilish smile was enough to make you do anything if he asked.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

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markeronacomputer · 27 days

Text

Abstracted Heart, Mind and Soul

Art I kinda pushed out of an AU/concept that I need someone to write for me because I have too many WIPs.

I call this the “Abstraction AU” (unrelated to the Amazing Digital Circus, but does share some similarities), and here’s how it works:

The Basics

Inspired by Core Suppressions from Lobotomy Corporation

Basically, whenever one of the three undergoes extreme stress, they “Abstract” into one of these forms

The Headspace basically stops working the way it’s supposed to until the transformation is reversed: the way it’s affected depends on who’s Abstracting

The transformation only wears off once the side passes out: which sounds like it would result in a big boss fight or something

BUT, luckily for them, since Abstracting is basically letting out all your emotions and strength and fighting with all you’ve got, it is EXHAUSTING

so once it’s happened they’re typically not conscious for any more than an hour

Contrary to what you might guess at first, the side is still “themselves” while Abstracting: it’s just difficult to tell since the stress that causes the transformation also makes them act irrational and overly violent

Despite this, post-transformation, the side typically doesn’t have memories of what happened during the fight… until a few hours after waking up

It can happen to the same person more than once, but to Abstract for the first time you have to be pushed PARTICULARLY far

After that it gets a bit easier for it to happen again, like you’ve given into your inner monster

To further emphasise that, they all get “battle scars” from their first time Abstracting that stay with them for the rest of their lives

And to go into what the first time abstracting was like for each individual:

Heart

Abstraction is usually caused by intense stress.

While this is still true in Heart’s case, since being emotional is his job description, he needs to be pushed further than the others in order to Abstract

(because if that wasn’t the case, he would Abstract all the time)

Anyways, his first time probably came after days on end of extreme trauma

Specifically, trauma that neither Mind nor Soul did anything to try and stop

He likely Abstracted out of view from the others, and they didn’t even notice until Soul was like “wait why isn’t my trident working”

As Heart is… the heart of the Headspace, when he Abstracts, magic stops working there

His design was obviously based off of biblically accurate angels, as well as a Beholder from DND but without eyes so it would look like a heart

You’d think he’d be biased towards Mind while like that, but no- he goes after Soul.

He expected Mind to ignore him, but Soul? It’s his job to make sure things are alright with him, so why’d he just abandon him?

Even without the benefit of the Trident, though, I imagine Abstracted Heart wouldn’t be all too difficult for them to take down if they really tried their best, so he goes down rather quickly

After he wakes up, his head’s basically just in one big blur for a while until the memories start to come back

Then he just starts shaking and hugging them while constantly muttering apologies (even though he still has EVERY RIGHT to be mad)

”Battle scars” take the form of purple(-er) wings, fangs and a halo

Mind

Mind’s is a pretty different case

While his was also caused by days of repeated trauma, as Abstractions tend to be, his problem is that he kept trying to bottle it up and only started to show even the tiniest cracks just before the transformation

(after all, I don’t think they’d take a chance like that again after what happened with Heart)

He likely Abstracted right in front of Heart and Soul

His design was based off of UFOs, obviously, as well as a brain and spine. The eyelashes are meant to look like the sun’s rays

When he Abstracts, all laws of physics in the Headspace basically stop working and the place gets even weirder than normal

Despite having the advantage of Soul’s trident this time, taking him down is a lot harder since he’s metal: the key is to tire him out

When he wakes up after the fact, he’s even more of an asshole than usual, but mainly because he’s still tired and stressed

He gets all quiet once the memories start to come back to him though, like he feels bad about attacking them so violently but doesn’t really know how to express it

”Battle scars” take the form of rhombus-shaped pupils and back spikes

Soul

If you’re a time loop fan, then Soul Abstracting is typically what restarts the loop

He was designed to be the most humanoid to show that he was the closest to Whole, with three heads because… you know why

When he Abstracts, he fuses with his trident, the Headspace becomes black and white, and starts slowly to fall apart

Heart and Mind do not stand a CHANCE in this fight, hence why his Abstraction is inevitably what restarts the loop

However, if by some chance they lasted long enough for things to go back to normal, I imagine Soul would be… surprisingly nice after going back to normal

It’s like finally letting it all out made him calm down a bit. He’s still pretty awkward around them, but better than you might think

Even when the memories come back, sure he kinda shuts himself in for a bit and avoids talking about it, but he’s not as closed off as Mind is

Battle scars take the form of his right eye becoming normal (as in not identical to his left eye as seen in the art), and the left side of his face being covered in black (to match his face in his Abstracted form)

#chonny jash #cccc #cccc heart #cccc mind #cccc soul #chonny Jash au #chonny’s charming chaos compendium

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parentsday · 1 month

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i think david was a lot more like max as a kid but he softened the story he told to max nikki and neil in the car

thank you for the ask anon !! for your reference reading this made me grimace in a way that a wounded dog would upon seeing a piece of meat !! but seriously this is a topic that is very important to my personal and possibly general understanding of these two characters, so im just gonna say that i agree with you and such interpretation of david’s character is very easy to call accurate to canon as both david and max are written with obvious intent to be seen as parallels of one another, more so than they are written to be character foils.

max and david are set to be read as opposites in the show from the very start and i think this is also the easiest and safest way to perceive both of their characters if this shows meta doesn’t interest you. their standpoints and life views are seemingly removed as far away from each other as humanly possible and we are reminded of it more than necessary in the earlier content. the show tries really hard to make it look like david is an inherently good person put against max’s necessary evil, so it seems only right to view them this way. and yet the first two seasons of the show do a spectacular job at showing us that david is not at all as good of a person as he tries to be (not tries to appear, but tries to be, important bc first one is max’s perspective on david’s person while the second one is a description actually accurate to him). early seasons david is undeniably selfish and just as much of an asshole as max is, keep in mind that this is not my personal view on his character but a fact in canon that we are reminded of time and time again and is also something that gets lampshaded by the writers during the parents day episode. he pushes his positive perspective of the way things should be just as hard as max pushes his negative one, if not more, he behaves in his own personal interests instead of interests of others or the interests of camp constantly and guess who is the only other character in the show who does this just as often (the answer is max). the only reason why it’s not always easy to pin point this stuff is because they are constantly posed in situations that require them to act dissimilarly enough for it to create a contrast which isn’t always easy to pick up on as something intentionally vague and done for specific narrative purpose. this similarity extends onto the fact that they are both victims of abuse and the show is well aware of it and uses it to its own advantage. both max and david deal with their trauma in drastically different ways as seen by the way they talk about the world surrounding them, but the core of it is the same and that’s the important part of it.

so i believe it’s very safe to say that even if david didn’t say anything that would allude to him changing the story about his younger self to be nicer than it actually was, it sure was implied by the writers in the subtext of that episode, maybe in the subtext of the show in its entirety. early camp camp content surrounding these two based itself very heavily on david’s belief that his similarity to max is what will push this kid to become just like him in the future, so it really is not out of the left field to assume david was a lot more like max when he was younger. most probably because in many ways he still is just like him.

tldr; david sees himself in max in more ways than one and the show’s writing feels the same way because they intentionally wrote them to be as similar as possible. the writers rely heavily on these two being narrative parallels to make their characters work in the way they do so your headcanon is as real as it gets anon ^^

#camp camp #camp camp meta analysis #david cc #max cc #is it obvious i tried my best not to dadvid out in this one #treating these two like they are not intertwined in my mind just so none of you get the found family ick.. mwah mwah

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thewiz9062 · 2 months

Text

Smiling Critters AU: Familial Relationships & Friendship Status Headcanons

NOTE: THIS IS NOT RELATED TO CANON IN THE SLIGHTEST. An accurate description of this au is that I took every playtime.co poster art and promotional material from the game and lit up the rest of canon in a bonfire. That means EVERY character is part of one big cartoon. That's it. No bigger bodies project, no child souls, no experiments, just a depiction of a cartoon. PLEASE do not ask me to do anything suggestive with anyone.

OK I'm jumping straight under the cut, these are pretty long so be warned

Bubba's relationship with his parents is pretty good. The only reason I say "pretty" is because he feels like they "undermine his intelligence." In reality, he just wants to help them. In his younger years, he accessed the internet pretty easily and used context clues to figure out that with all the factors of an adult life, they weren't doing so well financially. But he saw a solution: a lot of people who have easy lives have a good education. So, he got to work, teaching himself anything and everything. He even (somewhat legally) got multiple jobs, ranging from tutoring to coding and other similar occupations. He hid these from his parents for a suprise. (This is when he was about 8, but my timeline is weird rn) anyways, he in total made a LOT more money than any child should have. Eventually, he told his parents and told them about his entire plan to help them. They exchanged a few words between each other and turned back to Bubba. They told him that they were very proud of him, but he shouldn't have to worry about things like that at his age. He understood because he knows that a lot of kids his age don't know a quarter of the stuff he does, but he also felt betrayed. As if they think he doesn't really know anything. In reality, they just want him to be able to live a life without their own issues, dragging him down. But they still are a happy family. There are just a few misunderstandings. Moving on, he still kept those jobs to the present day, meaning he's (for lack of a better term) loaded. In terms of the friend group, he is the one to give out life advice and such. He also funds their more expensive outings. If bobby is the "mom friend," Bubba is the "dad friend." Speaking of which, Bobby is his closest friend outside of Kickin. They both care for their friends and family, even though they do in different ways. He's still in good light with everyone else, though.

Kickin has fairly normal parents. They were a bit concerned with his behavior shift, but after meeting Bubba and his family, they were able to see him truly happy again. They care about him, like parents do. In regards to the friend group, Bubba and him are attached at the hip. If you were to invite one, you'd get the other. Package deal. This made and broke a lot of parties or outings with their peers, but with the critters they're both welcome anytime. Outside of Bubba, Hoppy is his closest friend, Dogday coming at a close second.

Hoppy's parents are her biggest inspiration. Athletes, just like she wants to be. They're pretty chill with each other, and they support her dreams. With the friend group, kickin is her best friend, but bobby is cool to her as well.

Crafty's parents are total assholes. I've gone over her parents before, but to give a brief summary, crafty wants to be an artist because she genuinely enjoys it, but her mother wants her to follow in her footsteps and be a model, simply because their rarity as unicorns. Her father knows, but doesn't care what she does either way. He's off defending people in court most of the time, and it was an arranged marriage anyway, just to keep the line going. (Not incredibly proud of this one, but it'll do). Whenever she wants to hang out with the friend group, she usually appears in far too expensive clothes for the activity, but Bobby's usually prepared and brings some clothing that Crafty feels comfortable in. She's closest to Dogday, him being the one to help her make friends in the first place and give her the motivation needed to be proud of her art.

Bobby's parental situation is bittersweet. She's the only critter with siblings, and regularly has to watch them because she has a working father, and her mother divorced him and didn't get custody. She is understanding and is more than happy to help, much to her father's regret, him having wanted her to have a normal childhood. (See why her and Bubba get along?) This led to her being essentially their mother. She wasn't exactly alone in this, as Picky Piggy was a huge help in some departments. Eventually, her father started earning enough to pay for a babysitter, allowing Bobby to be normal. But old habits are hard to shake. In the friend group, she is undeniably the mom friend. Other than picky (which she knew before joining the critters), Bubba is who she's closest to, for sharing the same goals: to help. Dogday makes ideas and plans, but bobby and Bubba make sure they go flawlessly.

Picky is also pretty normal. She has parents that support her culinary arts and had a few friends before joining the critters, including Bobby. Her knowing bobby immediately places her as Picky's closest friend, but she's fairly indiscriminate to everyone.

Another one I've gone over before: Catnap lost his parents at 4 (cause of bye-bye still pending and I honestly need help) and has lived on his own ever since. He's not COMPLETELY parentless, though, even though he'd never admit it. Although he never shows it like ever, he appreciates boxy boo just stopping by to check on him. In terms of friends, he's not actually an official member yet, but Dogday, Bobby, and Picky know him. Bubba and Kickin know of his existence because Dogday muttered his name when planning their sleepover but have yet to meet him. Dogday is his best friend, and wants to help him see that although it's great to be happy, he's still human (ik ik he isnt but yk what I mean) and is allowed to see things in a negative light sometimes.

Dogday was abandoned by his parents shortly after he was born, and was put in an orphanage and has lived there since. Just like catnap, however, he's not totally fatherless. One time, during one of the rare outings when one of their caretakers would take them to the local park dogday and wanted a balloon but didn't have a quarter to pay. Luckily for him, someone came and bought one for him. That someone was Huggy Wuggy. They became acquainted after Dogday thanked him, and anytime dogday visits the park, they sit on a bench and talk about things. (He also learned that Huggy gives the greatest hugs and now he won't leave without one everytime he has to go.) In terms of the friend group, he was the one that brought most of them together and along with being generally likeable he's in great standing with all of them. Though, hides the fact that he lives in an orphanage, thinking that they would treat him differently. When he met Catnap, however, they bonded over their lack of biological parents, and they became best friends. Dogday, even though he barely knows more than Catnap, wants to teach him how to make the best out of situations, even when times are bad.

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Edit: tumblr try not to post my drafts challenge go- failed

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters poppy playtime #catnap #alternate universe #dogday #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #bubba bubbaphant #hoppy hopscotch #kickinchicken #poppy playtime 3 #boxy boo #huggy wuggy

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dazaispinkietoe · 21 days

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Levi Analysis !!

OKAY LEVIS BIRTHDAY ANALYZING HIM WITH DR PEPPER IN MY DR PEPPER SHIRT LETS GO YIPEE

Brief description of his character, Leviathan is the 3rd eldest/most powerful brother of the seven. He’s the sin of envy, for some reason a Navy general, but mostly known for his introverted personality and social anxiety.

In Celestia, Leviathan carried out a similar role. But unlike the other brothers, he wasn’t much happier than he was in Devildom. In Nightbringer, Leviathan says that he felt like he didn’t belong anywhere. He felt like he had no purpose, which is likely why he took on these big roles, feeling like without them he’s just a waste of space. Touching on this, that’s one of the reasons for his sin. I’ve talked about this before, but because of the displacement Leviathan felt, his reaction was one of envy, looking down on himself for what others had that he didn’t, and once he did have it, moved on to something else. He can’t be satisfied because of this, which is why he constantly plays games that he can consistently level up in or at least use to distract himself. That could also be one of the reasons he has so many outbursts. If you’re constantly distracting yourself, when you’re not able to, you don’t handle it as well. Instead of being like Belphegor, though, all of the external and internal self hatred causes Leviathan to lash out in a different way. Instead of having an annoyed reaction, he has more of a “How dare you?” reaction. I can assume this is because he feels like everyone has so much more than him, which leads to him thinking that because everyone must have so much more than him, they must be trying to brag.

This is also why he is so protective and obsessive about his interests. When he finds something, he wants to make sure he stays at the top of it, so he can at least be good at something. When that’s challenged, he starts feeling worse than normal, and that form of escapism isn’t really escapism but more like a chore or something he has to do to just stay at the top of. I could imagine that he also feels like a failure and blames himself for Lilith’s death. His job in Celestia had to do with keeping people safe after all, and he couldn’t even do that for the person closest to him. Not only that, but after everything he was still thrown out. Now he had to start over again, with people actually judging him. After he fell from Celesita, Leviathan felt isolated. He didn’t have a title here, or anything to do but sit back and play his games. Until he met Henry, he felt totally alone, his brothers didn’t really want to interact very much, and if they did there were pretty much always arguments or fights. Once he met Henry, he felt like he could understand someone for once, even if that someone was just a snake. Snakes are known for being feared, or seen as vermin that need to be removed. He could probably empathize with the snake, especially after Henry had pretty much wandered into their house, where he wasn’t really welcome. Leviathan had similar features as Henry, too, with his tail being similar to serpents or sea snakes.

But eventually, he had to let that snake go. Not because it was unhappy, it was really the opposite. Him and the snake got along too well, but Leviathan was too insecure to see that. He thought he was holding the snake back, so he opened the tank to let him go, and Henry left because he thought Leviathan needed more friends. This reminds me of Leviathan’s relationship with MC in a way. In a lot of the chats Leviathan is in, he’s insulting himself, talking about how MC is the only person to understand him, or apologizing in the form of self deprecation. He probably feels like MC deserves better than him and is trying to give MC excuses for why they should leave him.

Leviathan is also extremely empathetic. I feel like a lot of people ignore this side of him, but he has a tendency to give inanimate objects personalities or feelings, like how he was afraid to go into a store alone because he felt like the clothes were judging him. One of the articles I read on this said this could be because of over inclusivity, which would make sense because if you feel left out you’re more likely to try harder to not let anything else feel the same.

I HAVE MORE TO SAY BUT IM RLLY ON A TIME CRUNCH RN AND HAVENT HAD MUCH MOTIVATION IM SORRY </3

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEVIATHAN I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH

#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me levi

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knchins · 2 years

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Overtime - Wakasa I.

Summary: Your boss calls you in on your day off to help cheer up his best friend, and you can’t say no to the extra cash. Based on Chapter 270.

Pairing: Wakasa x Reader

Reader Type: AFAB - She/her

Rating: E+

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Chapter 270 Spoilers, sex work, boss/employee relationship, established relationship, booty call, biting, knife play, vaginal sex, unsafe sex, cream pie, semi-public sex, praise kink, angst (no happy ending)

Notes: Welcome to my Wakasa brain rot. Requests are open if you'd like to see more Waka content! I just take a while to get to them sometimes.

The edge of the bathroom counter dug into your lower back as a mewl made its way from between your lips. “My boss is going to be angry,” You say with a sigh as teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck. The tattooed man is smirking against your now wet skin, knowing that you weren’t truly all that concerned.

“Are you telling me no?” He asks, breath tickling your ear before he nips at your earlobe. “I think he’ll be even more upset if you give him blue balls.”

He parted your legs with his knee, pressing it against your clothed cunt. Though he couldn’t feel the dampness of your panties through his jeans, he knew what state they were in. You managed to resist the urge to roll your hips to feel friction against your throbbing clit. “What about your- ah- friend,” you pant as he moves his leg back and forth to stimulate you in the most teasing of ways.

“He had to go,” Wakasa replied, not knowing why Shinichiro bothered darting off after some homeless man that claimed to be a time leaper. It was ridiculous. His grief was driving him to every possible option to get Mikey back, though most of them had been scams. This one was probably just another elaborate scheme to get money out of the poor grieving older brother.

You tutted, annoyed with him as his hands began to lazily flick open the buttons of your blouse. “You called me in on my night off to fuck him and he’s not even here?” It wasn’t in your job description. Hostesses didn’t have sex with customers normally, but you and Wakasa had a game that you play where he pretends to only want you for sex and you pretend to only want the money he gives you for it.

There couldn’t possibly be anything deeper between the two of you, not even the slightest chance.

You shifted as his cold fingers brushed against your bare skin when he opened up your shirt completely. He grabbed hold of your hips and lifted you to set you on the counter. A whimper left you at the new lack of touch against your clit. It was so easy for him to rile you up,

“You really going to complain when you’re already crying for my cock?” He asked, taking out a switchblade and flicking it open. He cut the middle of your bra, letting your breasts free. You wanted to complain, but the money he’d be slipping you later would be more than enough to pay for a new one.

He ran the flat part of the blade along your jaw, the thought of him accidentally cutting you sending a jolt straight to your core. Just one slip and you could be bleeding, one little mistake as he dragged it down your throat and traced your collar bones. Your breath hitched in your throat, worried that if you breathed too heavily then you’d be cut.

He put the knife down momentarily and you let out the breath you’d been holding. “Still don’t trust me, huh?” He asked, his tone bored though you knew he was joking. He enjoyed playing chicken with you, even if you didn’t necessarily enjoy it back.

His large hand cupped your right breast, squeezing it playfully before moving to pinch your hardened nipple. Your teeth sink into your lip to keep quiet, hearing someone try to open the locked door. The customer cursed before leaving. Waka was unperturbed as he rid you of your underwear in a similar fashion to your bra, by cutting out the middle of it. You hadn’t even noticed he’d picked it back up again, though that was probably for the best.

His index finger traced along your slit, gathering the arousal that had pooled into your now ruined underwear. You bit your lip even harder as he circled your clit slowly before flicking it. A squeak of surprise was stuck in your throat as he pulled his hand away and motioned for you to open your mouth.

You did so obediently and he slid his finger into your parted lips for you to suck on, the taste of your own sweetness now on your tongue. “That’s a good girl,” He hummed and your thighs pressed together desperately. Why did he always insist on taking his time in the beginning? It was incredibly frustrating.

With your impatience growing you reached for his belt, and he didn’t stop you from unbuckling it before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. That same blank expression was on his pretty face, though his half-lidded eyes stayed on you like a hawk.

“You’re really desperate for someone who had the day off.” He commented as he grabbed your wrists before you could pull his stiff cock out. You groaned with frustration, needing more than his incessant teasing. He knew what you wanted, but Waka moved at his own pace. He wasn’t one to be rushed.

You leaned forward, putting your head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see the needy expression on your face. “If you need me so bad, then say it.” He said, sounding almost irritated with your shyness. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t done this a hundred times before.

Heat crept up the back of your neck and onto your face with embarrassment. “I need you, Waka.” You murmured into his neck before kissing it in order to urge him on. Another jiggling of the bathroom doorknob at you sitting upright again. Normally you two did this after closing, it wasn’t like him to fuck you in the middle of the work day.

You eyed the door, hearing another frustrated sound from a coworker who cursed before banging on the door, “hurry up in there!” If only they knew who they were talking to, you thought as you looked at the now annoyed expression on your boss’s face. Instead of saying anything back to them, he pushed down his pants and briefs to expose his long, flushed cock.

Your mouth watered as you reached out to stroke him, wishing you were in a position to get down on your knees for him. Wakasa had an air of authority around him regardless if he was on the job or not. Perhaps it was his gang status or maybe it was just his natural state of being, but with just a look, he really could make you do anything he wanted.

He reached around to grab handfuls of your ass before pulling you to the edge of the counter as you smeared the bead of precum along his length. You spread your legs for him like the obedient bitch that you were.

You positioned his tip at the entrance to your pussy and without any hesitation, Waka pushed in all the way to the hilt, stretching you out as your head tilted back with a silent moan. Your legs wrapped around his thin waist as he grabbed your chin to steady you for a forceful and demanding kiss.

His cock throbbed, hard as stone as he waited to move. It wasn’t that you couldn’t take his size, he had made sure to train you well in that area, but he wanted to savor the way you clamped down on him. The small edging of your hips to get him to move. The little whine you made when he stood still as you did anything to feel more of him.

You were molded to him as if the two of you had been made for each other. Your hands moved to his shoulders, nails attempting to dig through his shirt and into the skin of his back. He had to know how much you wanted him, right? That it wasn’t just about the money but the quality of the orgasms his dick gave you. The way his name felt so right coming out of your mouth as you begged for him to move.

Wakasa leaned down to press his lips against yours again. It lacked tenderness or care and was enough to snap you back into the reality that this was your boss and not someone that actually cared about you. It was hungry and consuming, almost overpowering as he slowly dragged his hips backward before snapping them into you with enough force to make the mirror behind you rattle.

A moan rattled your throat as he started slow, reveling in the feeling of you sucking him back in every time he pulled out to the tip. The whimper of ecstasy as he thrust back in, balls deep. The beautifully blissful expression on your face as your eyes rolled back when he picked up the pace. Waka would devour you whole if he could. Keep you locked away where no other man could paw at you. But then, maybe moments like this wouldn’t be as exhilarating if he knew he had you all to himself.

Your hands found his face, cupping either side of it as you pulled him down for a deep kiss. Your tongue intertwined with his, exploring each other’s mouths as if you didn’t already know every inch of it. Your moans poured into him like new life as his blunt nails dug into the plush of your bottom, practically pulling you off the ledge so he could push his cock in even deeper.

Outside the floor manager had turned up the interior ambiance music to keep patrons from getting the wrong idea. No touching the girls, the poor blushing man reminding everyone while apologizing for the person who was sick in the bathroom. No one fell for the bad attempt at a cover-up. Everyone could tell what was going on behind the closed door.

Your nails dug into the back of his neck, leaving red crescents in his pale skin. He didn’t mind the marking, though if any other of the girls he routinely called on did he then he’d probably drop them. You were and always would be his favorite fuck.

He bit at your neck again as your back arched, pulling your bouncing chest closer to his as his thrusts grew relentless. His angle was perfect, the rhythm driving you insane as his shaft continuously rubbed against the sweet spot inside of you. Your vision blurred, bright white stars sprouting in the darkness as the intense knot in your abdomen threatened to snap which each roll of his hips.

“Waka,” you keened as his hands found your hair and wrenched your head back to give him easier access to your throat. Your walls tensed around him as pain radiated from your hair follicles. The sudden tightness made him groan, something rare as he normally kept quiet during sex unless he was to praise or degrade you.

“You take me-” He paused as he rammed into you again, “Fuck, so well.”

“Gonna cum,” you gasped, your own way of asking for permission. The gods knew you’d be in trouble if you came without his approval.

“My little whore wants to cum?” He hissed, his balls heavy with the need to release. In truth, he couldn’t hold out much longer either. All he needed to let go was to feel your pussy spasming around him. “Go on then, cum.”

As if on cue the knot inside of you snapped and waves of relieving pleasure washed over you. Your walls undulated, tightening and untightening in rapid succession as Waka fucked you through it, his own movements becoming erratic and almost jarring you from the plane of bliss you were currently floating in.

You could feel him pulsing as he gave one last heavy thrust before pumping you full of his white semen. You could almost taste it on your lips as your eyes slid shit and thighs relaxed, slumping forward as he held you to keep you from falling.

He rutted into you, making sure none of his precious seed would leak out when he finally pulled away from you. The sudden loss of warmth made you feel cold and lonely despite him standing right in front of you.

Wakasa adjusted his pants, not one for small talk after having dumped his load. A part of him longed to hold you, stay with you, and tell you that you somehow meant more to him than the others. Yet the words never came. He could get any girl he wanted to bed, but it was the commitment of them staying in it that made him afraid.

“You comin’ in tomorrow?” He asked, pulling out a cigarette and putting it into his mouth. Despite knowing what this truly was, a booty call, it hurt. Pain wound its way around your still-hammering heart as you quickly began to button your blouse back up before he could open the door to reveal your half-nakedness.

He pressed a wad of cash into your palm. A chilling display of what you were to him. You took it, putting it into your discarded clutch as you swallowed the hurt that threatened to creep up your throat like bile. “Yeah,” You said plainly, not giving any sign of how you were truly feeling. You hopped down from the counter and pretended to care about fixing your makeup in the mirror.

His lilac eyes lingered on you a moment longer before he gave a stiff nod and unlocked the bathroom door. He walked out, the same bored expression on his face as he went to finish the drink he had ordered before you arrived.

Your hands gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles turning a few shades lighter as you tried to reign in your emotions. The money, you reminded yourself. That was why you continued to do this to yourself. For the Money.

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unrequitedloveletter · 1 year

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Hi ^^ I love your writing sm and I’d like to request a Jesper x reader !! The reader is very quiet and anxious but can come off as cold or rude to others. They joined the Dregs after Kaz bought their indenture from the head of a fighting ring that reader was forced into, similar to Inej’s situation with the menagerie. Reader is an excellent fighter and skilled squaller, using their gift to manipulate the air around arrows they shoot so they are much quicker and precise. I don’t mind what gender the reader is or if this is written as headcanons or a oneshot, anything will be perfect <3 Also sorry if this is too specific, just let me know if it is and I can revise :^) thank you !! - 👾

Vecht Amfitheater- J.F x gn! Reader

Okay! Thank you so much for sending this in! I've been missing writing for Jesper because it feels like I haven't been writing for him a ton lately so getting the chance to again was a blast!

Also, there's a bit of Dutch language in this because Dutch is what Kerch language is based on, and the translations for the two Dutch words I used might be wrong so I apologize in advance!

Fic type- this is like, fluff kind of? fluff with angsty undertones

Warnings- mentions of and allusions to trafficking (the reader describes being taken and trafficked to Ketterdam, though it's very brief and not descriptive)

Jesper had seen you the first night you’d found yourself in the Slat, your indenture owned by the Dregs and paid off by Kaz. You were quiet, aloof, sitting at a table in the back corner and looking from person to person as though you were sizing up an opponent.

Jesper had asked Kaz your name, and that was that. You were Y/N L/N, and Jesper decided that was all the information he needed to gleam from Kaz. He could get the rest from you, and he would, provided that patience was something he was willing to practice.

As it turned out, he was, and that was to his benefit. Over the next six months, he noticed things about you. Your skilled way of fighting--you were the best fighter that Jesper had ever seen. It was almost as though you were able to predict every movement your opponent was going to make before they made it, and in turn, have them beaten before they could even register that you’d won.

He watched you train, too, saw your ability with your arrows in action, noticed that you always made every single shot you took. He noticed that your arrows moved toward your target quicker and with a more precise nature than he’d ever seen any archer get their arrows to fly.

Then, he noticed that you also aimed differently to how most archers he’d seen did it. Archers he’d seen tended to aim with all of their fingers around the bowstring.

You aimed with your thumb and your first, leaving your middle, ring, and pinky fingers open. The aiming technique wasn’t the best but somehow, you were the best archer that Jesper Fahey had ever encountered.

“You can stop watching me now,” you said one morning, when Jesper had been watching you shoot for what must’ve been an hour, maybe two. It was the early morning, and you were in the countryside of Ravka for a job. You’d set up a shooting range in the backyard of the place you were staying, one of many estates owned by the Lantsov family. “You have questions. Ask them.”

“How do you shoot so terribly and still get every shot?” Jesper asked. “Even when we’re on field jobs. Your aim is the most precise aim I’ve ever seen, and yet you don’t even aim or hold your weapon in the traditional way.”

“I aim well enough,” you said. “Being a squaller is why my aim might be a little off. I could still summon the wind to ensure that my shots are precise if I did it like you’ve seen before, but having my middle, ring, and pinky fingers open makes it easier.”

“You’re a squaller?” Jesper asked.

You laughed. “I’ve never really kept it a secret, but I don’t use my abilities outside of shooting anymore. Reminds me too much of the Vecht Amfitheater,” it was Kerch for the Fight Amphitheater, and quite possibly the most basic name for a fighting ring Jesper had ever heard.

You’d always been quiet, aloof and a lot of the time, even people in the Dregs called you cold, rude, senseless, broken, damaged. If it was because of your time in the ring, then suddenly, your nature made a lot of sense.

“You worked there?”

“By force,” you said. “I was jumped while heading back to the Little Palace from an outing with my class in Ravka at sixteen. Worked there for two years before Kaz found me, and six months later, here I am. Skilled but broken, as the gossips of the Dregs say.”

Jesper shrugged. “Happens to the best of us,” he said. “The broken part. Not the whole trafficking and all the trauma that comes with it--”

“Fahey?” You asked, grin fighting its way onto your face despite your best judgement.

“L/N?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” you said, grin on your face. Jesper felt his heart light itself up and damn near take flight out of his chest, a grin coming to his face as he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Was planning to.”

You shook your head as you turned back around and Jesper went back to watching you shoot.

He observed that you held the bowstring with your thumb and first finger, pulled back and curled your middle, ring, and pinky finger toward your palm during the split second before you released the bowstring and the wind you summoned by curling your fingers sent your arrow flying.

It was then that Jesper Fahey realized he was falling in love with you, and he wouldn’t’ve changed that for the world.

#jesper fahey #jesper fahey x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone

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nofomogirl · 4 months

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Before the Beginning (part 1.2.)

This series of posts is about the opening scene of S2. Obviously. In every X.1. post I will propose one theory of what I believe the scene tells us about the universe and the characters, and then in the following X posts (X.2. and on) I will interpret scenes from both seasons applying and further examining thet theory.

My first theory, which I presented in the opening post, is that the Fall was a far more transformative event than both we, the audience, and the characters in the show, especially Aziraphale, have ever realized. I believe it's communicated to us by showing us pre-Fall Crowley who has no serpentine traits, from which we can infer that he had no serpentine nature either. It had only appeared after the Fall.

Now I'd like to examine the scenes where Crowley's past angelic identity is ever brought up.

In this post, we'll be looking at the (in)famous Bandstand Breakup from S1E3. The beginning of that scene is one of the earliest instances Crowley's past angelic identity is ever brought up properly.

Here's the original dialogue:

A: It's the Great Plan Crowley. C: Yeah. For the record, great pustulent mangled bollocks to the Great blasted Plan! A: May you be forgiven. C: I won't be forgiven. Not ever. That's part of the demon's job description. Unforgivable. That's what I am. A: You were an angel once. C: That was a long time ago.

I'm not going to lie, I didn't notice anything unusual about it after S1. It's a brief exchange and the Bandstand Breakup is a heavily emotional scene, so even after multiple rewatches it got lost for me among all the other things that were going on.

If anything, my interpretation was that Aziraphale meant Crowley might not be as unforgivable as he claims. But I really wasn't thinking too much about it.

But now that I have a reason to look specifically at those two lines, they are very unusual.

Just compare them to the dialogue from the very same episode, from the 1862 St. James Park scene:

C: Look, I've been thinking. What if it all goes wrong? We have a lot in common, you and me. A: I don't know. We may have both started off as angels but you are fallen.

And, OK, this was somewhat unusual too, but only in how extreme it was, not in the sentiment either of them was expressing. It was perfectly on-brand for Crowley to try and bring Aziraphale's attention to how the differences between them weren't really all that big or significant. It was just as perfectly on brand for Aziraphale to insist they were on opposite sides.

In fact, they both express the very same sentiments during the bandstand scene.

Except in those early lines I quoted where their roles are practically reversed for a brief moment. By pointing out that Crowley was an angel once, it's Aziraphale who tries to convince Crowley they are more similar than it may appear. And by brushing Aziraphale off it's Crowley who shuts down that line of reasoning and underlines the divide between them.

You must admit it is unusual.

So why would they?

When it comes to Aziraphale, it's important to remember that at the time this scene was happening, he was in an exceptional and very difficult position. I've already addressed it in one of my older posts, so I'm just going to quote myself:

"At the end of episode 2, Aziraphale learned who and where the Antichrist was and it was the first piece of real information he got that could actually make a difference. He needed to make a choice about what to do with it and it pretty much paralysed him.

First, immediately after finding out, he got a call from Crowley asking for updates and lied claiming he didn't know anything. Then he arranged the meeting with the Archangels but withheld most of the information and when asked directly where the Antichrist might be he lied again that he wasn't sure. Then he met Crowley face to face (this is where the scene we're discussing takes place), once more lied (by omission) about the Antichrist, insisted he wouldn't tell him anyway, and eventually broke up with him. The next day he approached Gabriel and tried to reason with him by mentioning "human prophecies" but not the Antichrist. Then Crowley approached him again and was rejected again. And finally, he got cornered and assaulted by Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon.

Frankly, I haven't even noticed it before, with all the other scenes in between, and all the emotions involved, but it's a very clear pattern, isn't it? Crowley - Heaven - Crowley - Heaven - Crowley - Heaven. Nothing could illustrate better how Aziraphale was swinging between the two."

Aziraphale is trying to figure out what to do. He's currently in a swing away from Heaven - which put him off the idea of telling them during their meeting - and towards Crowley. He's searching for reasons and arguments why he might choose siding with Crowley. And it's all very high stakes and emotionally intense.

And under all this immense pressure Aziraphale brings up, in a rather small and pleading voice, something that seems uncharacteristic at the time.

"You used to be an angel once".

You used to be like me. You still are.

This was a perfect opening for Crowley. He should have picked that thread and pulled and he would very likely get where he wanted. Starting from there would make it so much easier to back all his arguments and prove all his points. But he didn't.

Crowley straight-up refused to discuss it.

He pretty much shut the door Aziraphale opened for him and then not even a minute later proceeded to try and break through the wall...

Why?

That is a much simpler question. Just like Aziraphale, Crowley was heavily distressed. He didn't know about the Antichrist. He believed he was running out of options and out of time. The world was about to end and he was powerless to do anything about it. He didn't have the mental capacity to reexamine and discuss this very sensitive and problematic topic right then.

We are not done with the scene yet, but for now, let's leave it. In the next post, we'll look at ones when Crowley is a bit more open about the subject - the Job minisode.

#good omens #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #post series

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fablesrose · 1 month

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Ch 15 - The Zanzibar Marketplace Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: Maggie gets arrested in Ukraine for stealing a priceless artifact. The team's got to go work with Sterling to get it back and clear her name

Words: 6560

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

Nate decided to let us help sort through possible clients, so the four of us, Nate, Tara, Eliot, and I were sitting around a table in McRory’s, looking through files. Hardison and Parker stood at the bar chatting, not wanting to over crowd. Nate explained his file which described a family whose pension disappeared and had their land seized by the state under eminent domain.

“So these are all your lost sheep?” Tara asked, flipping through her own folder.

“Excuse me?” Nate asked.

“Well, you know, you can’t save them all.”

Nate didn’t have a response to that and just stood, saying he was going to get a refill of coffee.

Tara looked between the two of us, “You know he’s drinking again.”

“I know,” I sighed at the same time Eliot said, “I’m not an idiot, Tara.”

“I was told this was a problem,” Tara said.

“Drinking’s not a problem,” Eliot corrected, “It’s a symptom.”

The conversation didn’t go further as Nate came back. I kept my head down, looking at the file I had randomly selected, but I wasn’t actually reading it. They were right, but I didn’t know what I could do about it. I couldn’t do anything, really. Nate made his own decisions and he was one of the most stubborn people I knew. While I could support him, and hope he stopped again. I couldn’t make him.

As I was lost in my thoughts I didn’t realize Nate had focused on someone who had walked into the pub until he said, “Eliot, I’m gonna ask you not to do anything violent.”

I looked up at Nate with a curious expression, why would he say that? I looked over to Eliot to see he had a similar look, but what caught my attention was the fact that Sterling was standing behind him.

“What?” Eliot said, “What are you talking about? I only use violence as an appropriate response.”

“Hello Nate,” Sterling said.

I watched as Eliot’s expression shifted for a split second before he stood quickly from his seat, turned and clocked him across the face. Sterling tried to fight back, even whipping out a baton, but he was nowhere close to even slowing Eliot down. A quick look at Parker and Hardison revealed that they were enjoying the show.

“And this is…?” Tara asked.

“James Sterling,” Nate answered, “we used to work together. Insurance.”

“Seems to rub Eliot the wrong way.”

“You could say that,” I answered this time.

Nate walked up to the pair as Eliot pinned Sterling to the table he had been beating him on. “Hello Sterling. What are you doing here?”

“Actually, I came to offer you a job,” he strangled out.

“There’s nothing you could say to make us work with you,” Eliot said.

“It’s Maggie.”

Nate looked at me for a moment before telling Eliot to bring him upstairs. Eliot hauled Sterling up and kept a tight grip on him until we all got to Nate’s apartment. Sterling, of course was being a bit whiny and dramatic about being beat up, particularly that first punch across the face. I grabbed an ice pack out of Nate’s freezer and, a bit pettily, tossed it at him. I was aiming at his face, but miscalculated and it hit lower at his chest and shoulder. Though, he still flinched at the pack being cold and hard when it hit, so I called it a win.

Sterling held the ice pack to his face as he explained the situation. A Faberge egg worth nine million dollars due to its rarity, was stolen from a Ukrainian museum. Maggie, who was working in that museum verifying Russian artifacts, was the only one in the building when the egg was stolen, therefore, she had been blamed.

“Who is…?” Tara asked.

“Maggie is Nate’s ex-wife,” Eliot answered quickly.

“Okay, is there any chance she took the egg?”

“No,” Parker answered this time, “Maggie is the most honest person we know, but besides that she’s okay.”

“Tara, she is probably a significant reason why I turned out, quote on quote, ‘normal,’” I added.

Nate came rushing down the stairs from his room, “Maggie is being set up.”

“You live, and work here?” Sterling asked incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“I like the old place better.”

“Do not mention the old offices,” Hardison demanded.

“Maggie is where, precisely, right now?” Nate asked before that anger could get too far.

“She is currently awaiting trial in the Kiev jail,” Sterling answered. “Of course when I heard that poor Maggie was being held without bail, I rushed-”

“Please,” Nate interrupted, “As soon as you found out that the Faberge egg that your company insures went missing, you-”

“Rushed to the Ukraine,” Sterling finished. “Of course I was unable to clear her name.”

“But I’m assuming you have another suspect.”

“Absolutely,” Sterling put a picture on the screen, “Alexander Lundy, international real estate mogul. Very rich, very powerful. My only problem is that he works at the American embassy, which makes him untouchable by normal law enforcement.”

“Guys we’ve got to book it, our flight to Kiev leaves in three hours,” Hardison insisted. Luckily we had all been multitasking getting our documents together.

“Hang on,” Eliot said before we all scattered to finish packing. “I’m not working next to this guy,” Eliot stated, pointing accusingly at Sterling.

“You don’t have to,” Nate assured, “I’ll work with him. You have a different job.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re the retrieval specialist,” Nate said, “retrieve my wife from jail, let’s go.”

Once we got to Kiev, Nate and Sterling went to meet with Alexander Lundy, and Tara, Hardison and Eliot went to get Maggie released from jail. Parker and I didn’t have anything to do at the moment, so we decided to go sightseeing for a little bit. We went to the museum, though I think Parker and I had different focuses. While I was admiring the art and artifacts, Parker couldn’t take her eyes off of the cameras and motion sensors.

We returned to the I.Y.S. offices where Nate and Sterling were holding their investigation. They had boards with paperwork pinned to it, trying to figure out just how to prove that Maggie had nothing to do with the missing Faberge egg, and that Alexander did it.

“That lying son of a-” Nate said, “I mean, look at these financials, the credit crunch wiped him out. He’s maybe three, four months from declaring bankruptcy.”

“Lundy offers up the egg to the museum exhibitions, so it falls under their insurance policy,” Sterling said, “hires a bit of local muscle to help with the heist, tidy payout.”

“Now, we just need some proof.”

Parker sighed from where she was perched on the counter, “It was an inside job. Average keypad hack time is one minute nine point three seconds, inner door access card takes at least thirty seconds for anybody but Hardison, and the vault was an old Mark two Remington.” She puffed, “In and out average, seven minutes forty seconds. With these thieves, they did it in five minutes twelve seconds. Maggie had the best access, so the real thieves only had to get her codes and badge… yeah, only way they could pull it off that fast.”

Sterling looked at Nate and I, “How long has she been sitting…”

I just nodded at him since she had been there the whole time, but Nate didn’t even bother.

“Maggie’s on his calendar,” Nate said as he looked through some files, “he had lunch with her the day of the heist to discuss his collection. So while he’s keeping her busy at lunch, his men take her ID card and access codes… She gets framed for the heist, oh boy, I’m gonna nail this son of a-”

The door opened across the room and none other than Maggie, the woman of the hour, walked into the conference room.

“I can explain,” Nate said quickly.

I walked over and gave her a hug while Parker laid out some supplies on the table to show Maggie. Maggie hugged me back a bit confusedly.

“We’re here to help,” I assured.

“Maggie, it’s not what you think,” Nate also assured.

Parker dragged Maggie over to the table, “It’s your first time being a fugitive, so I made you a bag.”

“Thank you, Parker,” Maggie said, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate getting out of jail, I just can’t live my life as a fugitive.”

“But you're not a fugitive,” Nate corrected, “You were released, not broken out.”

Parker was busy telling Maggie all the supplies she included in Maggie’s go back including a lock pick, toothpaste, and explosive gel, important not to mix up.

“But you released me to run. I’m not going anywhere until my name is cleared.”

“That’s what I’m here to do!” Nate said, “to get the egg back and to clear your name.”

Maggie looked at me, thinking I was less likely to lie to her.

“Yes,” I backed Nate up, “That is what we’re trying to do, we just didn’t want you sitting in jail while we do that though.”

She turned back to Nate, “but you’re clearing my name with thieves! No offense Parker.”

Parker gave her a puzzled look, “at what?”

“Actually,” Sterling said cooly, “Nate and Y/n here have been rehabilitated.”

I scoffed, “Please Sterling, freelancing is a more honest profession than whatever you do.” The fact that I hadn’t done freelancing for months was not a fact that either him or Maggie needed to know.

“Fine, Nate has been rehabilitated,” Sterling amended, “he’s here on official I.Y.S. business as a consultant. I brought him on.”

“You’ve gone straight?” Maggie asked.

Nate nodded but didn’t directly answer her, “the only reason they’re here is to deal with the authorities and to get you released and everything. They’re not staying.”

“Absolutely not,” Sterling said, “I don’t trust them, they don’t trust me.”

“Eliot already punched him,” Parker added, trying to help.

“Yeah, it’s all above board,” Nate concluded, “it’s perfectly legit. You know, I think, really the best thing you could do is go back to the hotel, get cleaned up and everything, and I’ll call you if anything happens.”

Parker then ushered Maggie away with the intention of further explaining the go bag without the discouragement of Nate. I followed after them to maybe help Maggie escape if need be. I was eventually able to convince Parker that we needed to go and get her ready to ‘leave.’ It was a small lie in front of Maggie, because in reality Parker did have to get ready to leave, but it was for the American Embassy, not for home. Parker and Hardison went to the embassy pretending to apply for a marriage visa in order to get information off of Lundy’s phone.

“Alexander has a travel visa to the United Arab Emirates,” Hardison said once they gleaned the info, “He’s also setting up accounts in the Caimans, Macao, and Switzerland.”

“Yes,” Nate said, “countries with no extradition treaty. Tax havens. Yeah, this does not look like someone who is going to wait around for the insurance payout.”

“And this guy showed up on his phone.”

“I know him,” Parker said. “That’s Adrian Chernov, he’s a fence.”

“Fence? So he’s selling it,” Hardison said.

“Oh yeah, sure he’s selling it,” Nate responded, “He’s going to sell that egg on the black market and run.”

“Gotta hand it to the guy, it’s a pretty good plan,” Parker remarked, “I almost feel a little bad for screwing it up.”

“Really? I don’t,” Nate stated.

I shot him a look, questioning his attitude for this job. Sure, Maggie was involved, but this pettiness wasn’t going to help in the long run.

“Uh, Hardison? Can you get Chernov’s location for Tara and Eliot, please?” Nate requested.

Hardison did as requested and sent Tara and Eliot on a mission. I was surprised at how quickly they were able to get some information, though it didn’t seem like much. The only thing that Chernov had on him was an envelope with a plain blank card inside. None of us could figure it out, so when they got back we called someone who might.

“It’s a Zanzibar marketplace,” Sophie said when we showed her the card, “The marketplace is a one time event, it crops up in a city when an important piece has been stolen. You should have seen Stockholm after the Rembrandt heist. Parking was a bloody nightmare!”

“If it’s a one time event,” I started, “how do people know to come? It’s not like you can advertise.”

“Well, the prospective buyers are invited by their black market contacts,” Sophie answered. “They show up, verify the merchandise, and they make a sealed bid. Hey, shine an ultraviolet light on that card.”

Hardison dug through his bag, pulling a small one out.

“Seriously?” Eliot asked, “you have one, just laying around?”

“And you’re surprised?” I asked in return. I had been eyeing the two braids he had in his hair the past couple of days. They originated from underneath layers of his hair, but were accentuated with beads at the end. I took the opportunity to give a playful tug to one of them, playing a bit with the bead.

Eliot lifted his eyebrow at me, but didn’t tell me off. I gave a soft smile before dropping my hand, turning part of my attention back to Sophie and the card. I felt a bit bold touching his hair like that, I hadn’t attempted to do so until now. I didn’t want to push it though, even if he didn’t have a negative reaction this time. In fact, I hadn’t touched Eliot in any capacity very often. Still, the bit of hair I did touch was soft, and I theorized I would be thinking about it in the future.

“The bidder’s ID number and the time of the auction’s encrypted on the card,” Sophie continued. “The bidders write their bid on the back of the card, one number, no zeros, and they hand it to the seller in a sealed envelope. They leave town immediately. A week later, if they win, they transfer the money, and the merchandise is couriered to them by a messenger as soon as the heat’s died down.”

As Sophie was explaining this, Hardison shone his little UV light on the card, and sure enough a time and bidding number appeared.

“So no names, no contact with the money, or the item?” Hardison clarified. “Nice.”

“Alright,” Eliot said, “so marketplace means multiple buyers at the same time. Where’s he gonna do this without drawing attention?”

“At the embassy,” Nate answered as he entered the room.

The three of us shared a look, glancing at Sophie who made a cutting motion on the screen. In response, Hardison slowly lowered the laptop screen, effectively ending the call.

Nate continued as if he hadn’t noticed, “Yeah, the American Embassy is having a party tonight. Perfect cover.”

“It’s a great place to store stolen merchandise,” Eliot pointed out. “Pretty much American territory, local cops can’t even get through the gate.”

“Well, even if we can prove that Alexander has the egg, police can’t touch him or search for it.”

“If we can’t let loose the dogs of law enforcement on him, what do we do?” Hardison asked.

“We, uh, steal the damn thing back,” Nate replied simply.

I guess it was settled. Luckily formal attire has been permanently placed on my packing list, it seems you can never predict when there’s a time to dress up. All of us attended the party, courtesy of Sterling and I.Y.S., except for Hardison due to Sterling being petty about almost being blown up. At least, so I hear.

The plan was for Tara to be the buyer and once the egg was located, Eliot and Parker would snatch it back. Hardison was in a van to run any technical support needed and I was there for additional personal support. Probably to be a distraction at some point.

This plan was quickly foiled when Sterling conveniently forgot to tell us that Alexander and Maggie were in a relationship. This was only revealed when they walked into the party together. That meant that Alexander saw Tara with Nate, blowing her cover to be the buyer. It also meant that Eliot and Parker had to be extra careful to avoid being seen. Nate had Eliot be the bidder now, which required the envelope that Tara had with the card.

“Parker,” Tara signaled, “Double reverse on three.” She took an empty glass and placed it along with the card on a waitress’s tray who was heading in her direction.

I watched from a separate corner as Parker snatched the card off the tray and handed it to Eliot as they passed each other walking in different directions. “Damn, that was smooth,” I said, mostly to myself, clearly impressed and slightly jealous.

Eliot gave me a quick wink through the crowd as he headed off to the auction which caused a blush to cross my face.

I kept my distance from Nate and Tara as Maggie and Alexander approached, not wanting to get in the middle of that if I didn’t have to.

Tara and Maggie introduced themselves to each other after a pointed exchange between Nate and Maggie. Alexander then thanked Nate for helping get Maggie out of jail.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Nate said. “After all, what was I supposed to do, let her sit and rot in a Ukrainian jail, to think about the poor choices she’s made? Without setting things right, or explaining herself?”

I sighed and said to myself, “What is it with everyone being petty today?” I then said pointedly, “ Nate, what the hell? Stop-” I wasn’t sure what to say, “Just stop with the attitude please, you’re acting like a toddler.”

Tara grabbed a drink off of a waitress’s tray and raised it to the group, “Cheers.”

Eliot made it to the auction saying, “Alright Nate, he’s hired some local security on the payroll, watch yourself.”

I glanced around the ballroom, picking out the few security personnel I could see. There was enough that suggested that there was plenty between who he hired and regular security to make certain menouvers difficult if not impossible. Hopefully if everything went to plan, it wouldn’t come to that.

The two pairs made painfully awkward small talk across the room; I was glad I had decided to stay out of it. When Alexander excused himself, we knew it was go time. Eliot signaled they were about to present the egg and the rest of us prepared to get it back. What we didn’t expect was that the egg was presented as a video feed, meaning we didn’t know where it was.

Hardison worked on tracking the signal of the feed and Eliot delayed the auction by having them move the egg on the screen ensuring it was a live feed and not a recording. Luckily, Hardison was able to work his magic and identify that it was not only still in the embassy, but what room it was in. He sent the map to us and Parker went to grab it.

I was not as successful at blending into the crowd as Parker was, Maggie spotted me and wrapped me into a conversation with her and Tara. It was pleasant conversation, small talk at first, Maggie getting to know Tara. That’s to say, it was pleasant until Maggie just had to catch up with me.

“So…” she said, “anything happen between you and Eliot?” She had an innocent smile, but the intonation was more suggestive.

I gave her a pointed smile, signalling her to drop it. “No, nothing’s happened. You know, with Nate cleaning up, going straight, I’ve only seen Eliot a couple of times since LA,” I lied. “Besides, we both know it was just the job, his character,” I said, this statement much less of one, if not completely true.

Maggie gave me a hum and a, ‘if you say so’ look.

I glanced at Tara who had a lifted brow, curious. I lifted my own brow in return, almost daring her to say something, but desperately hoping she wouldn’t.

Luck was on my side in this particular instance as the conversation shifted from my imaginary dating life to specifically them dating Nate. I saw Nate was walking towards us, so I gracefully excused myself to ‘grab a drink’ despite all the waitresses walking around. I started after Parker just in case something came up and she needed help.

Unfortunately, something did come up. When the video feed ended, the guard who was in the room with the egg exited, and started guarding the door. Parker had no way in. Everyone else was out of position. I was on my way to help distract him when I ran into Sterling.

We looked at each other for a moment in the hallway. He raised his bottle half empty bottle with a tilt of his head. I nodded, inferring what he was going to do and encouraged him down the hallway, leaving me a gap to follow.

He started to coughing and staggering down the hallway just before he turned the corner where the guard would be. I left a roughly ten second gap before I started calling down the hallway after him. I jogged a little bit at the end, not very fast in the shoes I was wearing, but enough to show I was chasing.

“Dad!” I said as I finally spotted him drunkenly leaning against the wall. The guard was already starting to approach him cautiously. I grabbed Sterling’s shoulder as if trying to stand him up again. “God dammit, I turn away for one second…” I feigned struggling to help him and turned to the guard who had closed the gap.

“Do you need help, miss,” the guard asked. Well, for a goon of the bad guy, he was sweet.

“Would you please?” I asked, stepping away from Sterling to give the guard some room. “He’s a drunk, I can barely keep track of him sometimes.”

“I’m not a drunk,” Sterling slurred, “you are very strong.”

“Thank you,” the guard said as he supported him down the hallway we came from.

I glanced to the other side of the hallway to see Parker sneaking around the corner towards the room. I nodded at her before turning back to Sterling and the guard, keeping him occupied. Parker communicated no issues when grabbing the egg and getting out. It didn’t take too long for the guard to get Sterling to a more respectable part of the embassy and for us to let him go back to his now empty post.

“Your welcome,” Sterling said after the guard had gone. “I don’t know how you people ever manage-”

He cut off and stuck his finger in his ear. Hardison apologized for comm feedback, but everytime Sterling tried to talk, the feedback came back. I saw that Parker was cracking a smile similar to mine each time it happened.

We were prepared to clear out with the egg, but Nate was suddenly nowhere to be found. We decided to regroup back at our temporary base of operations, aka the I.Y.S. conference room, before doing anything too drastic. When we got back, Hardison tried everything he could think of to contact Nate, but to no avail. He couldn’t find him anywhere.

“The case is closed, people,” Sterling whined, “the egg is back, I’m sure Nate is breaking it to Maggie about her continued bad choice in men.”

Before I, or anyone else, could snap back a retort, Hardison’s laptop rang with a call from Nate’s cell. When he answered, it was not Nate on the other end of the line.

“We have your people,” the deeply disguised voice said. “No police. Await further instructions.” It then hung up.

I immediately looked to Eliot, but my gaze shifted to Sterling who had begun to dial his phone.

“What are you doing?” Tara asked, reading my mind.

“Calling the police,” he said simply, “they don’t get to-”

Eliot snatched the phone before he could finish, “We’re not calling the cops. Two hostages means they can kill one to make a point.”

I nervously started chewing on the tip of my thumb, purposefully avoiding the nail. The focus and pressure on both my thumb and teeth was a distraction and outlet from the rising panic and anxiety rising through me. I couldn’t remember the stakes being this high, and for some reason, it felt that all the previous jobs and even my life before this was on easy mode, or even a dream, and that we had just entered the real world. Or maybe this was a dream, not really happening. Before I could spiral further, Eliot took charge, bringing my attention back to him.

“Alright listen, there's three types of calls we can get next,” Eliot began, “One: amateur. Cash and a dump site. Number two: professional. That’s wire transfers and multiple location drop offs.” Eliot then hesitated for half of a second, “And three: targeted.”

“Targeted towards us?” Hardison asked hesitantly.

“No,” Eliot answered, “towards a specific ransom demand.” He looked at the egg that was sitting in a case on the table, “not cash.”

Sterling was not having it, “You know, risking a nine million dollar artifact-”

“It might be the only chance!”

“On a hunch!”

Eliot was clearly irate as he rolled his eyes and rounded the table to stand behind the rest of us, facing Sterling.

“Let me run this,” Sterling continued, “we track the calls, find out whoever it is, let the police-”

“Sterling,” Eliot finally cut him off, “I’m the retrieval specialist. That’s my job.”

Sterling took a hard look at us, “Your friends’ lives hang in the balance, and you’re gonna take your cues from a punch up artist, instead of me?”

None of us verbally answered, it was clear where we stood. Sterling shifted his gaze across every one of us individually, testing the waters until he came to me.

“Even you, y/n? You trust him to save your dear Uncle Nate and Auntie Maggie and not me?”

I swallowed with a set jaw before answering because it was clear this time that he wanted an answer, “Yeah, Sterling. I trust him. I’d trust him with this any day of the week over you. And to top it off, I like him better too. So let. him. do it. Or there’s gonna be problems.” I could feel myself trembling softly, mostly through my hands which I was hiding behind the table. I couldn’t decide if it was fear, anger, or something else, but I started to chew on my lip once I finished talking to release some energy and keep myself from saying something stupid.

Sterling made an expression of acceptance and closed the case with the egg in it and grabbed it off the table. “Call me when you need me. Cuz you will need me.” He then walked out of the room with the egg in hand.

The rest of us looked at each other once he was gone. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I guess this was it. We had to get Nate and Maggie back.

Eliot directed Tara and Parker to try to see where Alexander was, Tara to check his house, Parker to check around the embassy. Hardison continued to work on his laptop, trying to prepare or find anything that would help.

I paced around the room a couple of times before turning to Eliot. I was about to ask what I could do when he shook his head.

“There’s nothing you can do right now, we just have to wait,” he placed his hand on my shoulder which comforted me more than he would know and directed me to sit at the table. “We’re gonna get them back, I promise. I’m gonna get them back.” He held eye contact long enough for me to know that he meant it.

I nodded, letting him know that I believed him. He then removed his hand and sat at his own seat, thinking. I was so tired, this night had been long and now the stress was draining my energy even faster. I folded my arms on the table and rested my head. Just for a second, to rest my eyes. As hard as I tried to not fall asleep, Hardison’s quiet clacking on his keyboard slowly lulled away from consciousness.

I awoke with a start when Tara and Parker walked in the room sporting no news of where Alexander was except not at his house and that his embassy car was checked out.

“He’s angry,” Eliot said, “We took his payday.”

Just then, the phone rang. Eliot spread his hands with an ‘alright’ and pulled the conference speakerphone towards him.

“Go,” he said simply when he answered it.

“If you follow our instructions, your friends will be returned unharmed,” the distorted voice on the other end said.

“We agree. Tell us what you want.”

Hardison worked on reversing the distortion and succeeded which revealed Alexander’s voice.

“You owe me nine million dollars,” Alexander said. “I still have a buyer for the egg, return it, and I return your friends.”

“I want proof of life, now,” Eliot demanded.

Alexander hesitated, “Agreed.”

It wasn’t long before a webcam video was provided showing a storage room where Alexander’s assistant was handcuffed. The accountant was talking about Alexander’s finances when Nate walked into frame, saying that we had found all of the fishy stuff in his accounts. Maggie then walked into frame and started arguing about us being here.

“There’s our proof of life,” Eliot said.

“I was in that room earlier,” Parker said.

“That’s the room the egg was in.”

“They’re at the embassy.”

“That doesn’t do us any good,” Tara pointed out. “We can’t storm it and the police can’t touch it.”

The feed cut out.

“I sent you the address,” Alexander said, “Come alone, at dawn. Bring the egg, or your friends die.”

Eliot hung up, shoving the speaker away.

Hardison pulled up the address Alexander sent, “Okay, the address is one of Alexander’s construction sites. Local project. Abandoned once his business got in trouble.”

“So now we have to go convince Sterling,” Tara said. “Who hates you-”

“Us,” Parker corrected, “He hates us.”

“To loan you a nine million dollar antique,” she continued, “so you can bring it to a ransom drop.”

“Listen,” Eliot said, “We know who’s behind this. We know what they want. We have the upper hand here. We do.”

We started to prepare for the drop. Eliot was coming up with the plan, predicting an elevator drop since we were directed to go to one of the higher floors of the building. There was a moment where he stopped mapping it out and stared at the screen again where the webcam feed used to be.

“What is it?” I asked him when I noticed the furrowed brow.

“There wasn’t sound on the video during the auction, but there was sound for our proof of life,” he said thoughtfully.

I sat and thought on it for a minute, trying to find an explanation. The video played over in my head a couple of times before I thought I noticed something.

“The assistant…” I thought out loud, “He didn’t seem… right. For someone who had been taken hostage. It sounded almost…”

“Rehearsed,” Eliot finished for me. He finally broke his gaze at the screen and looked at me, “I think it’s him doing this, not Alexander.”

I rested my head on my hands, “So what does this mean?”

He tilted his head, “He kept this pretty well covered up, blaming Alexander, he might try to pull something.”

I hesitated, “Like… leave no witnesses, pull something?”

Eliot nodded, “Yeah.”

I took a deep breath, “So what now?”

He turned back to his notepad, scribbling a bit more before setting his pen down. “Well, I have a plan. Now to see if Sterling will give up the egg long enough for us to get Nate back.”

“Do you want me to handle that?” I asked, trying to be helpful, knowing full well the tension that would be there.

“No,” he responded simply, “I’ll talk to him.”

I sighed a little annoyed, “Eliot, don’t baby me, let me do something. I’ve felt useless the last few jobs, I want to help. I want to help get Nate back.”

“Hey,” Eliot stopped me, “I’m not babyin’ ya. I know you’re capable. I didn’t like the way he spoke to you earlier, to be honest. Just… don’t worry about anything, okay?”

I nodded meekly before saying a bit more light heartedly, “yeah, you’re right, you should do it. The underlying threat of him being punched in the face might help our case, huh?”

He gave me a crooked smile and a wink before going to make the call.

I looked up after him as he walked away when my eyes caught Tara’s from across the room. It looked like she had been watching the exchange with a tilt of her head. I tilted my head back at her and she walked over to sit across the table from me.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked.

I rubbed my eyes, “You’re the grifter, I’m sure you can tell.”

“It’s still polite to ask,” she said pointedly.

I gave a murmured agreement before answering, “I’m… okay. I trust the team. It’s just…” I trailed off, trying to find the words. “It’s just another one of those moments where it hits me how useless I am. I can’t contribute anything, I’m just dead weight that they have to worry about in case something goes wrong. You all have done this for years, you know the risks, how to navigate them. I’m trying, and I want to be here, but…” I didn’t know how to finish, but I figured I didn’t need to. I didn’t need to dump on Tara, she was here for the paycheck.

“Well, maybe they need a little bit of normal in their lives. Keeps them grounded,” she answered unexpectedly, to me at least.

I looked up at her for a moment, “That’s kind of you to say, Tara.” It was clear I didn’t quite believe her.

She stood up again, “Fine, if you won’t listen to me, at least listen to Eliot. Stop worrying about it. You said you trust the team. So trust them.” She walked out of the room, most likely going to the hotel to sleep.

That wasn’t a bad idea.

The next morning I was still stressed, but resting helped me feel a lot better. I wanted to wait with Eliot on the higher floor to be there when Nate and Maggie arrived, but he told me to go help Tara with her task. I was going to protest, but the stern, yet reassuring look he gave me encouraged me to go.

Tara and I waited around the corner, waiting for the embassy car that the assistant would come in. Once they pulled up, he and his guards entered the building with Nate, Maggie, Alexander, and a suspicious looking bag in tow. I handed Tara a screwdriver and she handed back a license plate that Hardison had linked to a stolen vehicle.

We each took a side and began to switch the embassy plates, making it officially a civilian car. When I had just finished up, Sterling came out of the building, the Faberge Egg in hand. I was going to ignore him, but he walked right up to me and the car.

“Can you get me into the trunk?” He asked seriously.

I furrowed my brow in confusion, “The trunk? You want me to stuff you in the trunk?”

His face twisted in a way that told me that he didn’t like the way it was phrased, but finally replied, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he didn’t have to tell me twice.

They had been stupid, or confident, enough to leave it unlocked so I simply pulled the trunk handle that was beside me and opened it up.

“In ya go,” I grabbed his arm and shoved him towards the opening.

He barely was able to catch himself and landed ungracefully. He twisted around to face me and said sarcastically, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” I closed the trunk lid on his head, bumping it a little. I heard a muffled swear. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m sure a bruise wouldn’t hurt the act,” I answered loudly at him. I didn’t wait for another muffled answer and went to the other entrance to head up to the floor where everyone else was. Tara and I waited around the corner to watch them speed off first though.

When Tara and I arrived, Hardison was explaining how he sped up the elevators and then stopped them to give Parker time to switch out the bomb from the elevator and then put the elevators on track to arrive on time.

“Looks like we missed the party,” Tara said.

“Did they do what we thought?” Eliot asked.

“Yup,” I popped the ‘p.’ “Hopped into their ‘embassy’ car and sped off towards the airport.”

Tara and I raised the license plates, showing the switch. She dropped hers on the ground while I inspected mine for a moment.

“Might keep a souvenir,” I commented.

“How did you…” Nate asked.

Eliot explained the sound on the webcam and how he figured out who was really behind the theft and kidnapping.

“After that, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out,” he finished.

“You know, people underestimate you Eliot,” Maggie said.

“That’s kinda the point,” Nate replied.

Eliot turned towards the rest of us with a content smile for a moment before Alexander asked where the egg was.

“Yeah, in order for us to get the egg from Sterling, he made some additions,” Eliot said.

“Wouldn’t let the egg out of his sight, or too far from his grasp,” I added. I thought back to him coming out of the building with it and pushing him in the trunk, “He’s got it safe and sound.”

That settled it, so we left to go pack up and head home. Once we got there, we gathered in the pub for our celebratory drink. Except, the news was on. It showed Sterling crawling out of the embassy car trunk and telling the news how he discovered who had the egg and got it back.

“Based on his work recovering the priceless artifact,” the news anchor said, “He’s been invited to join Interpol. He’s a real life Sherlock Holmes.”

“That son of a gun,” I said. “I should have hit him harder with the trunk, knocked him out.”

“Yeah,” Parker said to me, “Interpol? Seriously?”

“Sterling’s career gets another bump because of our hard work,” Hardison said.

“We didn’t even get paid,” Tara added.

“Nope,” Hardison answered.

“I hate this guy,” she concluded.

Eliot knocked his beer against hers, “Now, you’re part of the team.”

I raised my glass, “Cheers.”

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