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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

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The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 4: The Sound of Her Laughter

TW: blood, nonconsensual surgical procedures, gore/body horror, mental issues, attempted suicide, ANGST. This chapter is a LOT guys so if you're sensitive to any of the above please take your time and if you need to skip please do so, I can summarize the important events to anyone that needs it ❤

White walls, endless halls, happiness and health to find. The floors reflected everything that moved in their waxed perfection, shapes twisted and curled within the depths. If I stared at it long enough the faces would start to stare back and they didn't like it when I watched them. So pristine, all of it, right down to the sparkling door knobs that giggled when I passed by, nothing but gossips they were. A single drop of red hit the glossy floor beneath me, another followed, more followed that until a pool had formed. White walls, endless halls… Pools of blood and bone. My heart thudded faster and faster. White walls, endless halls, screams and wails consume you. My lungs burned for air as the breath left me. White walls, endless halls, nothing can save you now. A ringing echoed in my ears. Red blood on every floor. Red walls painted over. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

My screaming was what brought me out of the drugged haze. Brought me back to where I was, staring down at the pool of blood that sloshed beneath me… My blood. I didn't remember them strapping me to the surgical table, but I remembered the first few minutes of the unsteady hand drill carving through the side of my lower back before the drugs fully kicked in. The sound was the worst part, bone grating against metal and blood and flesh squelching as the blades cut through me.

When my body began to spasm the shaky drill slowed to a stop and the half covered face of the man known as Elias Shenton bent down to look at me. "Good morning, Ms. Barlow. I must say I'm impressed! We gave you triple the dosage and you've still managed to burn it off in less than an hour!"

I wanted to throw some witty remark in his face, spit on him, something! But, the terrible truth was I was too tired. So, instead of putting up a fight I just stared back down at the floor as Shenton returned to his work, giving me me a rough pat on the shoulder. "You're truly something special. I've never seen this kind of healing progress. Just last week we performed this same procedure, sucked up as much of that pretty little bone marrow as we could and yet now here we are and it's like we were never there! Aside from the obvious scar tissue but what's a little scar, I hear its become all the rage now!"

"God," I groaned, both out of physical pain and the mental torture of listening to his chirpy conversation.

"No, no," he tutted, tapping my spine with his scalpel. "No calling the gods to save you! Not while you and I still have so much to learn from one another!"

"You're insane!"

"Perhaps, but my insanity shall be the reason humanity achieves immortal life!" He cheered. "The history books will pen my name down among the heroes!"

"More like among the unethical."

"Unethical." His voice had lowered from the upbeat chirping down to a tone that sent my mind and body into a panic. "I really don't like that word, Ms. Barlow. Perhaps you should apologize."

Tears rolled down my nose, falling into the pool of blood on the floor. I clenched my jaw, straining to keep holding on to that last thinning thread of rebellion I had in me. A thread that unwound more and more every day. When it became clear I wasn't intending to say anything, Shenton sighed. The sudden blinding pain of the scalpel being stabbed into my shoulder pulsed through me and the stinging tug that followed as he dragged the blade through my skin was just as bad if not worse.

"I'm sorry!" I shouted as the cut began nearing the middle of my back. "Please! I'm sorry... I’m sorry.”

"Very good," his voice returned to its normal tone. "Now, let's finish this collection! Wouldn't want you to miss out on lunch, now would we?"

Never in a million years would I have thought that I'd miss Roderick Burgess, or at least the familiar and simple brutality he provided, but Elias Shenton and his experiments were far worse than any beating. As I'd come to learn during the five, almost six, years of my stay at the London Asylum for the Insane the pain only stopped when I lost consciousness. At least then in those brief moments I could imagine the man with the starry blue eyes.

I would have been embarrassed by just how often I thought of him, but I was far more terrified that if I didn't think of him he'd fade from my memory entirely. He filled my unconscious thoughts, the last of the tattered and broken pieces of myself that had yet to be lost to the mad doctor. Day by day, piece by piece he took with him as he cut, chopped, and drilled. Piece by piece the girl I was, the girl the Sandman knew, was torn apart and reassembled wrong. Would he recognize me now? I wondered in that blissful moment of darkness. Or would he look at me now and see just another broken human? Did he even care? Had he thought of me, as I did of him? No, probably not. What was one human to a god of dreams.

Even with the heavy doubt that consumed all joyful thoughts I still pictured him, still saw him in the drug addled haze of my mind, still cared... Still missed him more than anything. The mark had stopped tingling years ago, a moment that shattered most of my hopeful resolve. For a while I'd still feel whispers of fleeting emotions, but they too had ceased. Now all that remained was the stained skin that, thankfully, Shenton hadn't tried to carve away.

My mind floated in the darkness with the thoughts of the sandman and… Laughter? It was manic and high pitched but still held a unique beauty in it that seemed to resonate with something in me. When the darkness faded and my mind woke from its comfort the laughter was gone, replaced by the wails and pounding of those whom I shared my prison. I stared up at the leaky molded ceiling, watching the steady drip.

I didn't move, there was no point to that. The chains around my ankles kept me from getting even across the room, and if that didn't stop me the pain that nestled under my skin certainly would. My arms were bound to my sides with thick leather buckles, a feeling I once would have thrashed and fought against. Once, when there'd been a point in fighting. Once when I'd felt anything other than this crushing weight of nothing.

My body sang with the familiar haze of the sedatives. They never lasted long, a phenomenon that only fueled Shentons obsession with me, but in these moments I was the closest I'd ever been to dreaming. The ceiling rippled like water above me, and fish of every shape, size and color appeared swimming overhead leaving bright twinkling lights and inky clouds of color behind them. I could hear the sound of the ocean, feel the chill of the water, smell the salt and sand. One of the smaller fish swam down close enough that I could brush against its wet, slippery scales with the tips of my fingers. Then, just as quickly as it came it faded away back to reality. I let my damp fingers drop back against the stiff mattress and closed my eyes, letting the sounds of the asylum consume me.

***

A jolt of burning hot electricity ran through me, pulling me out of whatever state I'd been in. My eyes refocused in the bright light onto Shentons smiling face as it slowly cleared in my vision. "There she is! For a minute I thought you were really gone this time!"

I lifted my head off the table and immediately sobbed at the sight of my stomach cut open, insides protruding, hanging out of my body. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to go back to being dead. Instead I was forced to keep breathing, heavy painful breaths as Shenton continued his torture, whistling a jaunty tune. "So it seems you are capable of dying, but the damage or blood loss has to be more extreme than usual. Absolutely fascinating!"

There were no words, only guttural whines. He shushed me, patting my cheek with a bloody hand. "Fret not, Ms. Barlow, I won't let you die on me."

I won't let you die.

In the corner of the room a hazy vision of the sandman stood. He was so beautiful, especially as he stood, contrasting the dark ugliness of this place, and while I knew it wasn't real, knew he wasn't there it didn't stop me from crying out to him. "Please…" Begging him. "Please kill me…" Anything. "Please!"

I won't let you die. The laughter echoed around me once again.

***

My throat constricted around the tube as I came to. My head was buckled in place keeping me from seeing whatever it was they were doing to me now. I could feel the pain, I always could, this time it seemed to be focused around my ribs, my lungs maybe. Shenton noticed my eyes had opened and gave me a little wave before returning back to his work. The ceiling above swirled with cosmic clouds and bright stars. Tears spilled from my eyes at the knowledge that I would never see the stars again.

Shenton and the others left the room to attend to some kind of emergency and the night sky opened slightly, revealing a mirror. In the reflection I saw a glint of the scalpel just inches away from my hand. I twisted and pulled until the buckle holding my arm down finally gave way. Grabbing the small blade I didn't hesitate, reaching over and stabbing it as far into my opposing wrist as I could. Pulling, pulling, pulling until I couldn't anymore. If he wouldn't let me die, I'd do it myself.

When they returned Shenton jumped into action, scolding and berating me every second that he worked on saving my life. They'd gotten back just in time to keep me from bleeding out. A cruel joke of fate. Shenton sat beside me while we waited for my new room to be cleaned. “You’re very lucky, Ms. Barlow. A second more and we would have been too late.”

Lucky, I thought bitterly. What about any of this was lucky? How did my failed attempt at dying on my own terms make me lucky? The word rattled around in my brain. Lucky. I wanted nothing more than for the word to materialize in my hands so I could crush it between my fingers. No. I wasn’t lucky. I was cursed.

Soft, passionate humming filled the room, followed by that damn manic laughter.

***

Curled into the corner of my room I sat with my knees pulled to my chest, the jacket restraining me was too tight, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was crying, but didn't really feel it, but whether that was because they had upped my dosage again or because I’d finally reached a point of absolute numbness. This was it, the end of the line… I didn't have anything else to give. No piece of me was still even mine, not after being twisted and cut up by another. I closed my eyes and sank into myself, finally ready to succumb to the nothing.

"You look tired." An unfamiliar voice said from beside me.

My head whipped to look up at the figure that now stood in my room. The girl was short and thin, clothed in a dress that looked hand stitched together with different fabrics that did not match, not in color, pattern or even material. The bottom was ripped and tattered, some strips had rocks or crystals tied to them. They swayed with the light swing of the girl's body.

When I looked into her eyes I was captured by the beautiful mismatched orbs of green and blue. Each eye had a small brightly colored fish painted over it, glistening a little in the light as if they had real scales. Her short red hair was tangled and messy with streaks of various colors poking through.

She didn't look real. Fuck, maybe she wasn't. "Are you..."

"Real?" She interrupted with a squeal. "Truth be told I don't even know."

"Who are you?" I whispered still in disbelief.

She smiled, holding her hand out to me. "You can call me De." A beat passed before she realized my arms were bound. She giggled. "Oh, right."

I looked over at the still locked door. "How did you get here?"

"I followed you." She said simply as she plopped down in front of me. The smell of bitter wine hit my nose, not unpleasant, but definitely strong and unexpected. Her hands suddenly clapped together. "I need to ask you something!"

"Okay..."

She pointed to the wall by my head. "Does that look like a bird or toad?"

I studied the spot for a moment, tilting my head to get a better view. "Toad."

When I looked at her next the pattern of her clothes had changed and in her rainbow streaked hair a toad sat croaking silently. Her mismatched eyes smiled at me. "You have good eyes. They see all sorts of things that other eyes don't."

"I'm sorry, if you're real, but this is the absolute most insane conversation I've ever had."

She laughed and a spark of something lit in my chest. It was the laugh I'd been hearing for months. The laughter that echoed down every hallway and in every room. "I'll take it as a compliment. Normal conversations are so stiff and booorrring! But you're not boring, butterfly, you're special."

"Butterfly?" I asked furrowing my brows.

Her head tilted and her face mimicked mine, as if she was confused by my confusion. "I just figured since you had butterflies in your hair that it was your name."

"I don't have…" My words trailed off as a glittering blue butterfly fluttered down from my head and onto my knee. Our eyes locked. "Okay, nevermind... Should I call you toad then?"

Now it was her that was confused. "Why toad?"

I nodded to her hair. She unwound the little thing from her head and held it in her hands, face just a hair away from it as her wide eyes looked at the creature. She laughed again and soon I did too. "The butterfly and the toad!" She proclaimed with glee. "I love it! Thank you!"

"No," I whispered as I caught my breath. "Thank you."

"For what?"

I smiled sadly. "That's the first time I've laughed in years."

Her glee faded into a sad expression. "Oh, that's awfully sad. Are you sad?"

"I'm not sad," I said. "I'm… I'm nothing."

"Nobody's nothing!" She moved her hand to my ratted hair and let a butterfly perch on her finger. "You're a butterfly!"

"Then you would be a toad."

She smiled. "I quite like toads. They make the most beautiful songs!"

I smiled back. "You're insane."

"Positively delirious," she agreed settling in beside me. With her head on my shoulder she hummed a soft song.

***

More time passed, but something in me had changed. I didn't feel as hollow as I had months ago. De visited me every day, keeping my spirits lifted. I still had no idea if she was real or another hallucination that my mind conjured up in its drug ridden state, but I didn't care. The sound of her laughter was all that stood between me and the bottomless pit of despair that always lurked close by.

Shentons experiments continued, but much to his annoyance I approached them with bouts of laughter and children's rhymes. Was I going mad? Quite possibly, but as De always said madness is closer to reality than we think. Shenton was convinced I'd lost my mind, not that I cared, not that he was wrong. The days blurred together, until one morning I woke to find a familiar face looking down at me. A chilled rage ran down my spine. "Father?"

He glared down, face fatter and more wrinkled than I remembered. "Do you have any idea what you've cost me?" I didn't respond, still too stunned to even think. "Roderick Burgess is dead."

I laughed, long and loud and crazy. Roderick is dead. Joy filled my lungs and the laugh turned into a fit of laughter. "ENOUGH!" Father shouted.

He waited until my fit of giggles finally subsided before continuing. "Before the bastard died he withdrew from our arrangement. Told me where he'd stuck you and handed me the bill for your costs over the last eight years. Thousands of dollars wasted!"

I fought the urge to laugh again. What was the point of this? To make me feel bad? The mere thought was funny. He leaned down over me. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"No." Was all I said, and I said it with a smile.

He growled. "I am just glad your poor mother died before she saw what a disgrace you turned out to be."

The words swirled in my head. My mother had died? When? How? But the pain of her loss never came. She'd not been my mother for so long that I suppose I just didn't care that she was gone. Once that thought would have made me feel guilty, but now it made me feel lighter. "I'm sending you to another facility. One where you'll work off this debt you've put me in."

I wouldn’t have cared. Another facility would just be more of the same, but then I thought of De. If she was just my own hallucination then I’d leave here and she’d leave with me, but if she was real she’d be left behind, trapped here alone. My throat constricted at the thought. No. I wasn’t willing to take that chance, wasn’t willing to potentially doom a friend to suffer alone. My father huffed above me, throat bobbing, and a grotesque opportunity presented itself. One I took.

I sat up as far as I could on the flat mattress and clamped my mouth around his throat, biting and biting and biting until my teeth clacked against one another and flesh and blood filled my mouth. I watched as fathers mouth opened and closed, trying to call out or scream with no avail. I spat the clump of flesh out at him. "Now you have a tiny glimpse of the pain you put me through."

Blood still rolled down from my lips as the workers clamored into the room in futile attempts to save my fathers life. In the doorway Dr. Shenton looked on in horror. I smiled widely, showing off my bloodstained teeth as they pumped me full of sedatives. A threat, no, a promise. *Your throat is next.*

***

When I woke up next De was sitting across my legs, twirling a paper butterfly between her fingers. I tried to speak, but found my mouth clamped shut by a muzzle. "You're leaving soon."

Her usually joyful eyes met mine with a glint of sorrow. "It's good. Exactly as it's supposed to be. But…" She paused. "But I'm going to miss you."

Come with me, I thought.

She smiled sadly, shaking her head as she stuffed the paper butterfly under my jacket. "I can't, butterfly. It's time we both went home."

She hopped off the bed, and cupped my muzzled cheeks in her cold hands. "Come visit me after you two finish up with all that mess you've both got." I didn't understand her, I never did. She pressed a kiss to my forehead.. "Just, don't forget me butterfly."

I closed my eyes tightly, the tears that had build up there finally falling. I could never forget you toad. Not ever. When I opened my eyes again she was gone but I could still hear the faint sound of her laughter echoing through the halls. The light scratch of the paper against my chest easing the sense of loneliness that filled me.

***

"Penelope," a soft, nervous voice called out from above me. A gentle hand squeezed mine.

When I turned my head towards it, Paul's familiar face stood out among the fish in the background. Paul! My mouth was still bound by the muzzle, resulting in a high pitched whine. Paul's eyes filled with tears. "Oh god, Pen… What have they done to you?"

He stroked my hair out of my face. "I'm taking you with me. I don't know for how long… Alex, he just thought…"

Sorrow overtook my joy. Of course, I thought bitterly. He only wants me back to use against the Sandman. I turned my head away from him.

"I know, Pen… I know. I'm sorry." His voice cracked. "I'm so sorry Penelope. Alex is, well he's growing rather obsessed. I love him with all I am but it's a lot." He stroked a tear from my cheek. "I'm going to help you."

I looked over at him, eyes swimming in doubt. He noticed. "I promise you, I'm going to help. However I can. However you need me to."

Paul had been the best of them. The only one I knew cared about doing the right thing. So, I nodded and squeezed his hand back. I had nothing left to lose anyway. He’d convinced the nearby nurses to take off the muzzle and then he and I negotiated my terms. The workers pumped me full of sedatives before our departure. Shenton helped wheel me out to the car and once I'd settled in the backseat he closed the door and smiled. "I'll see you soon, Ms. Barlow."

If my hands had been free I would have flipped him off. Instead I just leaned my head back and watched the swirl of colors and shapes fly past as we drove. By the time we pulled up to the house the drugs had all but worn off, but my body still felt slow and heavy. The two workers that had accompanied us helped me out of the car and toward the mansion.

Nothing had changed. Not the yard, not the house and certainly not the basement. All my breath left me at the sight of him. He hadn't changed either. His head was down, eyes cast to the ground and I wondered how long he'd been staring at that spot. It had been so long… Would he recognize me under the straight jacket and long ratted hair? Did he even notice my absence?

Alex turned and his face went pale at the sight of me. God I probably looked insane. Wasn't I though? He looked like he was going to say something, but decided against it. The workers removed the muzzle once again and helped me sit down against the all too familiar pillar with a quiet, tense mumble, "Behave."

I felt his eyes before I saw them. Turning my head slowly, trying not to collapse while my body still felt heavy. I met his gaze and the pained look in his almost made me burst into tears. With a sigh I forced a smile. "Hey Sandy, it's been a while."

Anger filled the blue orbs as he sent a glare to Alex as he approached me. "She seems more relaxed than what was described."

"She is heavily sedated, sir." One of the workers replied.

Paul cursed under his breath. "Is that really necessary?"

"For everyone's safety, yes." They made their way back upstairs to wait.

Alex lowered himself down in front of me, carefully leaning in closer, examining me like some kind of animal. If it's an animal he wants… I slammed my head into his, sending him to the ground.

My loud, unhinged laughter filled the room. I watched as Alex stood back up and pretended like nothing had happened as he cleared his throat and looked at the Sandman. "You see, she's here just as I promised. Now, speak to me, please."

I rolled my eyes. Looks like the years haven't changed anything. I thought to myself, eyes gluing to the floor as the heaviness of my body began to lessen. Silence filled the room, as Alex waited and stayed waiting. After nearly twenty minutes he finally spoke again, voice shaking with frustration, "Why won't you speak to me? I've not asked for gifts or anything, just one word."

Paul set a hand on his shoulder. "Alex..."

"Can you speak to him?" Alex turned to me now. "Convince him to just talk with me?"

I couldn't help the bitter laugh that rose from my chest. "What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"That mark on your arm!" He shouted. "He gifted you with it and you expect me to believe he did so without a single word to you, with nothing?"

"The years have truly made you just as paranoid as your father, Alex." He sneered down at me. "I've told you this already. He hasn't said a single word to me, not when I got the mark and not a minute after."

"Then why?" He asked, voice reaching a dangerous tone. "Why give you anything in the first place?"

With a scoff I settled back into the stone pillar. "I've answered that question before too."

"It can't have been an accident!" He insisted. "It just couldn't be."

"Look, this conversation has been just riveting, truly, but I think it's over. So, now what?"

Alex looked off, like he hadn't truly thought of this outcome. "Now you go back to the institution."

Anger, fear, and betrayal filled my chest. "Back to my own glass cage? After all those empty promises of freedom?" Guilt painted his face, but I had no need of guilt. "Just as well I suppose, I was starting to feel left out."

"Don't." He warned. "I fully intend to let you go, I just..."

"Just what Alex?" I demanded. "Just intend to dangle freedom in front of me for another eight years? Twenty perhaps? Longer?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't, not without lying to me or himself. With a sigh he turned and left the room. Paul, who sent me an apologetic yet knowing look, followed with the guards not far behind, likely arranging the drive back, but there would be no going back. Not this time. Not if Paul did what he promised.

The silence of the room had shifted now that it was just he and I. It was calmer, not by any means comfortable but more so than before. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I steeled myself. "When you do get out," I turned to meet the darkened gaze of the man in the glass. "Make them pay for it. Every second."

As expected he said nothing, but his head tilted in a nod so stiff and minimal I'd almost missed it. A silent understanding passed between us, a promise bound in something I didn't fully grasp, something stronger than the chains that enslaved us both. The mark on my arm tingled, a sensation I hadn't felt in years.

When the gate opened again Paul came into view. He knelt down and undid the fastenings of my jacket, helping me pull myself free of it. A small paper butterfly fell into my hand, but I didn’t have time to dwell on what it meant. I almost sobbed as I pulled him into a hug. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I can't do more," he said, pulling back and holding a familiar small bag out to me. "I kept it safe for you."

"Paul," I whispered, holding it close against my chest.

"Don't. This is the least I can do. Now what? The workers agreed to let you out of the vest, but they won't be so inclined to just let you walk off."

My jaw clenched as I prepared the half lie. "Don't worry, I've got a plan. I'll be okay."

Paul looked at the Sandman. "I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill all your requests. It's just…"

"Alex," I finished for him. "I understand. Can I?"

He nodded, moving out of my way. I approached the glass slowly, and the Sandman moved closer to the barrier between us. It was cold under the palm of my hand and only got colder when he lifted his hand to mine. The mark hummed between us forcing a sigh from my throat. "I tried to bargain with them for you too…" His eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry it didn't work. But it's okay."

I pressed my forehead to the glass, sobbing a little when he did the same. "You're going to be okay." I said. "I know you will."

Upstairs the workers began shouting at me to hurry. I looked into his eyes one last time, committing him to my memory. Pressing a kiss to the glass where his forehead rested I whispered, "Goodbye, Sandman."

In his eyes a sorrowful glint flashed, like he somehow knew what I had planned. Like he knew that this goodbye was one I said intending for it to be the last. I smiled at him, to reassure him or maybe myself, as I let my hand fall away from his. Then I followed Paul out of the dark basement, clutching my bag in my hands I walked obediently to the car. He squeezed my arm. "Goodbye Pen."

"Take care of him." He knew who I meant. I breathed in one last breath of fresh air and took one last look at the mansion. Good luck. I thought as I slid into the backseat of the car.

One worker took the wheel and the other sat in the front seat. Perfect. The long road bumped beneath the wheels as we drove off. My heart pounded in my ears, blood pulsing through my veins as the bridge came into view. I waited for the perfect moment before all but jumping over the seat dividing the car and jerked the wheel as hard as I could to the side. The sound of metal hitting stone and the stomach dropping feeling of weightlessness struck me. I closed my eyes just as the cold water hit, pulling us deeper and deeper into the river.

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sleepy-seal · 3 months

Text

Welcome back to another week of: TMAGP & Treats!

This week's treat: Blood Lemon Poundcake

A fitting name for the subject of the 4th episode. Ingredients were baking mix, water, one egg, and melted butter.

And without further ado, here is my notes and thoughts that I have for this episode:

- started preheating the oven to 350 degrees

- i'll be using baking mix this time so the quality may not be the greatest

- SAM BUDDY WHAT ARE YOU DOING

- ACCESSING RESTRICTED FILES????? STOP PLEASE THAT'S WHAT THE NARRATIVE WANTS

- ahhhhh "the magnus protocol" it all makes sense

- I FUCKING KNEW ITTTTTTTTTTTT AGUSTUS WOULD FINALLY TALK IN THIS

- ALSO WAIT WHO THE FUCK IS AGUSTUS

- PETER LUKAS?????????,

- WAIT JONAH

- JONAH JONAH JONAH JONAH

- is this a will?

- violin violin violin

- OH THANK GOD WE HAVE EGGS I WAS WORRIED THEY DIDN'T BUY ANY

- UH OHHHHHHHHH

- WEEWOO WEEWOO WE HAVE A MURDER LETTER MURDER UP AHEAD I CAN FEEL IT

- i'm gonna be honest i wish i sifted the baking mix beforehand so maybe there would be less lumps in it

- you don't control me

- batter is pretty stiff so i'll shovel it into the pan and put it iDEATH???????

- DUDE WHAT???????

- OH MY GOD

- OH HE'S FUCKING DEAD

- OH HE'S FUCKING DEAD TOO

- what is it with these people and describing their life stories to strangers

- put in the pound cake for 40 minutes! should be enough time to listen And relisten if needed

- OUCH OUCH OUCH

- pain violin. violin that bites you and hates you so so much

- thank you so much agustus we really needed a symphonic performance

- violin wants blood mmmmm yummy yummy yum

- I KNEWWW ITTTTTTTTTT

- VIOLIN NEEDS BLOOD

- KILL MAIM DESTROY VIOLENCE VIOLENCE VIOLENCE VIOLENCE

- ohhhh so the violin makes you kill other people by music alone

- HEY LENA????? WHAT DID YOU DO

- GWEN WHAT DID YOU SEEEEEEEEEEE

- GWEN

- GWENN

- GWEENNNNNNNNNN

OKAY FINAL THOUGHTS:

one:

i was so right in my assumption that agustus would start speaking in this episode. i was surprised though with the fact that it was not elias' voice actor this time. for a bit i was convinced that it might've been peter lukas for a little bit, but it didn't make sense at the moment. it then hit me in a moment of brilliance and subsequent horror that it was most likely jonah's voice. not elias' voice, jonah's. it also fits well with the usual magpod formula. jon/martin usually read more statements, with jonah/elias occasionally reading something of his own, likely something very old and historic. very fun, i like it.

two:

Guys I Am So Worried For Sam. he is poking into places he shouldn't already, and it's only been the 4th episode. we've all seen someone who keeps digging further than they're meant to, and we've seen what happens to them. nothing good. it's a good thing that alice is trying to dissuade sam from prying further. i trust her when she says that he should stay out of it and stop looking into the magnus institute and "the protocol". as the saying goes, canaries should stay above ground.

three:

what was in that video holy shit???????? what did gwen see???? i'm having a hard time wrapping my head around what might've happened. whatever it was, it was enough to put gwendolyn off. possibly something violent, maybe even worse? it sounds like, what Did happen, either involved lena trying to hurt klaus, or hurting someone else. maybe she was even trying to destroy something else, something that would disturb ms. bouchard. and what was that about klaus disappearing again? who is klaus? just some food for thought to chew on until all is revealed later.

it just dawned on me that the video may be correlated with what lena said in ep 1. "Unfortunately, I know what climbing this particular ladder entails, and you don’t have what it takes." perhaps this is tied to the video. maybe what she had to do was much uglier and grim than expected.

four:

lastly, and the most important thing i feel is, i have a feeling our good pals chester, norris, and agustus have a bigger hand on things than i initially thought. i'm sure people have said this already (which i have yet to see), however i feel like people have a point in saying that freddie is doing things on purpose. even colin said that the computer was doing things On Purpose. it might be a little crazy but hear me out.

with the security notification, it's a weird thing that it got directed to alice and not the IT guy, right? well, what if the programs intentionally redirected the notification to alice and not colin? i'm sure that chester and norris are familiar with someone going down a rabbit hole and went too deep to turn back. i think they might have sent it to alice because they want sam to stop looking, and he needs to hear it from someone he trusted.

another thing that points to me believing that freddie may be more in the know than we initially thought is the video sent to gwen at the end. but the real reason i have is not if they're doing it, but why. why would they send her this video? what kind of message are they trying to send? could it be that they're trying to warn her? that lena kelly is not someone to be trusted? or maybe they're giving her an answer to a question she had in her head, the reason as to why she hasn't been promoted yet and still the subordinate of mrs. kelly. or maybe, just maybe, they're telling her what it takes for her to get what she wants. maybe it's giving her the key to a position she's wanted for years.

overall, this episode is very good and got my thinking cap on real good. the blood lemon poundcake was also a real treat. have a good day, cheers!

#tmagp & treats #tmagp spoilers #tmagp

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imagineamagicworld · 11 months

Text

Slept on my Thoughts and Big Feelings™ about yesterday's patch, here we go (in true stereotypical fashion, this got a bit longer than I initially thought)

Spoilers for the 7.3 story moments (impside)

So obviously this was a very character-centric patch and its highlights really were the cutscenes. Like many people, I expected slightly more out of the gameplay part of the patch, especially after 7.2 and everything we got on Ruhnuk...

But the team really, really pulled through on what we got out of the cutscenes.

Rivix seems like a slimy bastard and I alternated between cheering him on for decking that other random Sithy guy and praying for his downfall at Tau's hand (you'll get him next time baby girl <3)

pleasantly surprised to see him immediately contact the Commander, and YET, I am and will remain suspicious of his every move and will anticipate the inevitable backstabbing

"what about your fascinating Hutt scientist?", mum come pick me up, i'm scared

Sa'har's interactions with Ri'kan make me want to bawl my eyes out, why can't Bioware ever let siblings be happy, she's so gentle but so blind and he's drowning in resentment and rage and they are so doomed

"I had little choice. Some earn what they have. Some are given everything", "and some lost it all", "you dare speak to me of suffering" I am going Insane™

Heta is so delulu it would be funny if it didn't make the situation go from worse to worser so fast, "it's never safe to change a galaxy, never easy to fight corruption and hypocrisy" be for fucking real

Sa'har, just say the word and we WILL come and pick you up (i have all the adoption papers ready whenever)

"I would be more than happy to go over the details", "... But not right now" PLEASE the Commander is SO TIRED lmaoo

not Oggurobb admiring Darth Nul's work, can you please focus

more on The Discrovery™ later in this post

Mind you, I played this whole patch on my main (Elias my love <3), who is a Saboteur ex-Imperial Agent, but...

my god, the Torian alert talk hit Different™

whoever decided this should be a cutscene and not just a letter... you are everything. It felt raw, it felt reflective, it felt absolutely necessary and i'm really liking the depth it is bringing with it

"I agree with Heta about the banner being used as a symbol of shame and betrayal. And yet... how dare she burn it"

"How you feel about your past is for you to decide"

"I spent so much time trying to be better than my history, I didn't stop to think about where I came from", "Good and bad, this box contains my past. Who my father was. My family. My sense of right and wrong. I can open it and remember when I need to, or I can leave it shut. The choice is mine."

It's the intergenerational trauma, fighting against yet embracing your history to shape your future and find your own purpose in life, I-

This Barbie is an ex-war criminal haunted by the Past!! And so am I!!

The whole Malgus cutscene was incredible and I probably spent at least half an hour (if not more) just going over all the different options.

flirting with Theron at work!! In front of our bestie Lana who is So Done™!! "May I remind you both we still have more to discuss", it never gets old <3

was actually shocked by how involved Theron was in the cutscene? actually had a lot of lines and he felt materially present in a way that i hadn't seen in a loong time (I will never ever kill Theron off [I have morals and I love him, your Honour] but I do wonder how the cutscene looks when you don't have him around?)

Theron calling the Imperial characters the fuck out is a kink I didn't know I had, but I do, so thank you for that

"Some higher-up is all sweaty about my past contracts with Malgus", "One of those contracts was destroying the defense grid on Coruscant during an Imperial invasion", get her ass my love!!

the tensions with Shae are back and, listen, I love our problematic girlie as much as the next person (too much), but I am thriving

"Don't you get it? With the holocron, Heta is part of that plan, willing or not", "You weren't interested in the holocron when you shot a teenager out of nowhere we ran into Sa'har", the girls are FIGHTING

I just can't get over how similar yet different they both are. Probably won't resonate with all Outlanders, but as a former Imperial agent, Elias NEVER thought he would become a Leader of any sort. He was always content to stick to the shadows, do what he does best with few restrictions and little scrutiny. It's so so so interesting to see Shae feeling like she owes so much to her people and yet struggling so much with being Mandalore

"Make him think you understand" and isn't the interesting part that some Outlanders really might understand, at least in part? Unique perspectives indeed.

"You and I are very much alike. I couldn't stand it when my mind was at the mercy of another... I don't fault you for wanting to break free" (patch 7.1)

"... few minds can comprehend my vision", "none who have stood by my side have understood this. The only one who could have... is my enemy" (patch 7.3)

Mirrors and narrative foils and the weight of our choices and I'm going Insane™ once again

we didn't learn much from the interrogation that we didn't really already know or couldn't suspect, it was very much about the Themes™

I know it's controversial, but I actually like the Nul and Mandalorian plots intermingling

"The Mandalorians are fractured... a broken people. They struggle to decide who they are", something that is so so important in basically all of the Mando characters we have here. Torian, Akaavi, even the Ordo brothers, Heta herself of course and the Varad, the Dar'manda and the Ash'ad, SHAE SHAE SHAE

I am going to ignore how this would inevitably resonate in many Outlanders too, the longing for home versus the morality of doing what's right for the galaxy and fighting your home and saving your independance but never knowing if it's going to be enough-

it was a bit weird that there was no way to prevent Shae from listening in on Malgus' interrogation, but then again, the whole scene where he bypasses us to speak to her directly is so powerful that I can't really mind too much

the them of HISTORY strikes again!!

"Can you not see it? The past looms over us all... a shadow of unchanging history. There are fools who believe they can outrun the shadow. Without a flame to chase it away, it will consume them - they are doomed to repeat the same failures"

the SILENCE once you get back from the interrogation is so LOUD and I felt a true sense of heaviness from it

Unfortunately, I feel like the Voss part of the patch was the weakest in many ways. I haven't played Shrine of Silence yet (the Flashpoint), but it is (as was announced) not required for the main story content.

The highlights truly were, again, the characters.

Arcann is back!! and we get to have a very nice talk with him about redemption, acceptance and forgiveness. all things that felt very important for Arcann's journey (and for my MC as well, actually)

"I saw centuries worth of horrors committed by my father. I felt the rage and the cruelty born of my desperation to please him", "I was afraid I saw those ruins because I was doomed to follow in his [my father's] footsteps", navigating intergenerational trauma and trying to trace the lines between what you suffered and what you are responsible of, painfully delicious

"I will never expect forgiveness - or even acceptance - from anyone I have hurt. But I will cherish any that is offered", what, me, crying? no, it's just raining, i would never cry (i am bawling like a little baby and will never stop)

can't say I was that surprised to learn that Darth Nul had been a Jedi before being corrupted over to the dark side, but I'm glad that finally puts to rest the "Lana is Darth Nul" theories

I am very intrigued by that Force power of hers , however : "she could mentally bond with anyone who could feel the Force. In those who did not recognize their own abilities, she awakened that realisation", okay, but what does it mean exactly?

the Voss stuff was otherwise a little bit on the forgettable side, I must admit (but I'm always happy to come back to Voss, so it's okay)

"[the Three] would never share them with an outsider, even one of your status", hmmm, excuse you, Sana-Rae, but I was once married to a Voss lady, doesn't that count for something

And just like that we were back to doing little chores-like quests and rocking it KOTOR-dialogue style. Which was okay, but not groundbreaking by any means.

of course it was Czerka, of course it was

out of all the side quests, I really liked the cantina one, it was so silly

the talk with Sana-Rae before going to see the Three was really touching <3 It really is all about personal choices and finding one's purpose even if it clashes with what you were taught growing up

the... prophecy itself is very vague and doesn't give us much more than what we've learned so far

"Life will be reshaped... scales unbalanced... A wave of change rises and falls... beyond the reach of Darth Malgus... and as he dreams, he awakens a great power... one that will tear the galaxy apart"

"Should Darth Malgus perish, this catastrophe will transpire more quickly"

I can't for the life of me begin to guess at what the devs have in store for us, but you can colour me intrigued for sure (and a bit wary)

the sheer unavoidability of "what is to come" is ???

and yet, somehow, "whatever is to come from this, it is you... who will choose the fate of us all"

"I'm tired of being responsible for the consequences of every decision"

"You can fight against destiny, but it is inescapable"

When I tell you boyo is TIRED

Overall, very strong themes for this patch. The way both the past and the future are inescapable, unavoidable, dooms that we cannot run away from.

The way we have to embrace them, embrace who we are, who we were and who we can become.

The way there is always a choice, there always has to be a choice.

#swtor #swtor 7.3 #swtor 7.3 spoilers #7.3 spoilers #7.3 Old Wounds #the themes are theming so hard this patch #overall i don't think this is as strong a patch as Ruhnuk was #and I imagine (I hope?) that the story will move forward massively with 7.4 (which has already been confirmed)#But it was still fun #The cutscenes were phenomenal and you can tell just how much love went into making them #OC: Elias O'Hara (Imperial Agent)#Theron Shan #Lana Beniko #Torian Cadera #Arcann Tirall #Sana-Rae #Shae Vizla #Darth Malgus #Darth Rivix

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 9 months

Text

Corrupted, chapter ten: A Sopping Wet Cat - a Malevolent x TMA crossover

Between elderly Lara Croft and the deeply-adoptable Jonathan Sims, Tim's feeling less alone.

Now if only Bouchard and Hastur weren't playing footsie while Tim tries to find his own footing…

Chapter ten of Corrupted, a Malevolent x TMA crossover.

AO3

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

It’s after five p.m., but Tim is sure Bouchard will let them in. He doesn’t even bother calling this time before taking the bus. If Hastur is right, and Bouchard can see just about everything, he’ll know they’re coming.

Tim’s not sure how he feels about omniscience actually being real and belonging to just… some guy.

The gods in this world might be dead, but they exist, and that throws his entire philosophy of life into question. Even worse, they were eaten by something worse—which begs the question of what the fuck a god actually is.

“Is that guy a god?” he murmurs into his earpods.

Who?

“Bouchard.”

No.

“Right. How are we defining gods?”

How do you define a cat?

Tim purses his lips. “Guess you know a cat when you see one, huh?”

Indeed.

“So it’s not just a power thing, apparently, given that this guy isn’t one. Did that mean there were gods without power, too?”

Yes, actually. Hastur sounds warm again. You can be so very smart, Tim.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, blah blah blah,” Tim mumbles.

Hastur laughs softly.

Tim falls silent. He has a lot to process.

At least it’s easier to reach the Magnus Institute now that he can see. The area is truly lovely; old buildings, probably all National Trust, absolutely clean sidewalks (he can’t imagine the army of people paid to preserve that), and discreet little signs that don’t stick out in any way because reputation matters more here than advertising.

“Oh it's expensive,” Tim sings to and I'm so happy. “So damned expensive! Couldn’t afford a cup of tea! Bet the coffee tastes like pee!”

Hastur laughs. What on earth are you doing?

“Being delightful so the poor police don’t come out and nab me.”

Unlikely to work as a deterrent.

"Well, a guy's gotta try." And then Time spots a slight man in a sweater-vest juggling and losing his folders in a spray of knowledge all over the steps.

“Damn and blast!” the fellow announces like an eighty-year-old, and Tim knows who he is.

“Hey, Jon, right?” Tim says, jogging lightly toward him. “Let me help.”

“Oh! Mister Stoker.” Jon blinks at him. Then behind him. Then at him again, looking confused.

Tim turns and sees nothing. He shrugs and turns back, bending to gather papers. “Sorry I don’t know what order all this goes in.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” says Jon in a deeply peevish way. “She’s not going to organize them anyway.”

“She?” says Tim.

“I have been reassigned to the archives,” says Jon with a little sniff, and pushes his glasses up his nose. “There, I have discovered that Ms. Robinson has no sense of order, nor a positive attitude toward anyone who wants to help.” He stops. His eyes widen. “I am so sorry. This isn’t any of your trouble. Please don’t say… er, anything. I’m very grateful for the opportunity.”

Just listening yesterday, Tim had thought Jon was a prick. Looking at him today, he’s certain Jon is actually a nerd—probably a bullied one—who’s wearing spiky intellectual armor to stay safe.

Tim knows the type. He’s adopted a few in the past. “Mum's the word, boss," he says, and hands over a sheaf of paper back.

Jon stuffs them into folders without any attempt at organizing. His face looks hot. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, Mister Stoker.”

“Tim, please. I’m gonna be around for a bit, so no need to be so formal, yeah?”

Jon’s shoulders untense. “You are? That’s, ah, good to know? I’m sorry, but this is after business hours, and we’re closed.”

“Naw. Elias will let me in,” says Tim.

“Oh! He’s expecting you?” says Jon. “And I’m keeping you! Come along, now, let’s not waste any more time,” he says as if the delay were Tim’s idea, and scurries up the stairs.

What an annoying little man, says Hastur.

Nope. Dorky in the extreme, maybe; he definitely knows the type. Tim grins and follows.

Jon juggles folders and keys; ungraciously accepts a hand with the folders; drops his keys; and finally, face red, gets the door open. “I’m glad to hear we were able to help you. Nasty things, Leitners.”

“Leitners?”

“That bookplate. Jurgen Leitner owned evil books—and legitimately produced some of the few verifiable supernatural occurrences on record.” Jon gives him a challenging look.

Tim just wants to scoop him up and wrap him in a scarf and make him watch some sci-fi. “I believe you.”

The relief is visible. “You do?”

“Seen some things. Yes.”

“I’m really glad we can do something for you,” says Jon. “You know, it’s very strange. I’ve worked here for three years, and I've never once seen Elias get involved in any—”

“Mister Sims, what are you doing?”

And there she is—the little old lady who doesn't look like a bad-ass god-fighting machine, but definitely is. She's tiny; conservatively dressed. She’d be cute if she weren't so severe. Her reading glasses hang from a chain around her neck, and though she lacks any obvious weapons, she still has books in her jacket pockets.

Tim wonders which one's the flamethrower.

Tread carefully, Hastur says, unnecessarily. I don’t know what she remembers after Kayne’s intervention.

“Ms. Robinson,” Jon stammers. “He’s, ah. There’s been a, ah.”

"Hello," says Tim. "Your boss asked for me."

Her look flatly dismisses what he says like wiping away footprints in the sand. "Did he."

Jon looks confused. He's frozen, folders bulked under one arm, keys still in hand.

"He did!" says Tim brightly. "So why don't we all go and see what happens?"*

The old woman stares him down.

Gimlet eyes, Tim thinks, having encountered the phrase in publishing a few times, but never before now actually seeing them.

"Let's do that," she decides, and gestures toward the darkened Institute and Elias’ office. "In we all go now, chop chop," says elderly Lara Croft.

He's already inside. Bouchard. It's safe to enter.

Tim would give a lot of money to know how Hastur knew that, but he can't ask now. He smiles his absolute warmest at both of them and walks into what he desperately hopes is not his tomb.

Bouchard is waiting for them, standing in his office doorway. Tim feels weirdly justified. “Thank you, Gertrude,” says Bouchard. “Tim, if you please—right this…” He stops. Stares. “Interesting,” he murmurs.

“Are you sure you want to handle this?” says the murderous old bat.

“Yes, it’ll be fine. He’s not a danger,” says Bouchard.

He’s lying. You are.

Bouchard’s look. It’s hungry. What the hell.

“Jon,” says Bouchard, suddenly. “I will need to see you after this meeting. All right? Clear your schedule. It’s going to be a bit of a thing.”

Jon looks absolutely spooked. “Sure, of course, Elias. Right.”

Lara “Gertrude” Croft looks highly suspicious.

“Right,” says Jon, glancing back and forth. “Um.” He flees.

“That guy needs a movie night,” Tim says.

Gertrude stares at him.

“You know. With friends? A bit of beer, or something? Snacks? Everybody cozy in socks? Bras off?”

She stares harder.

“Right. Maybe you need one, too,” says Tim.

Bouchard clears his throat. “Shall we?”

“Sure.” Tim gives her his brightest smile.

She does not respond. Well, now she’s a challenge.

Bouchard’s look has not changed. Thoughtful. Penetrative. He gestures to the seat across from his desk and sits behind it, fingers steepled.

“You really make a guy sweat with a look like that,” says Tim.

“I’m glad to hear it,” says Bouchard. “And please—do call me Elias.”

Tim shifts. “We’re all on first-name basis here, I guess. Tim.”

Elias does a little gracious nod. “So you’ve had an adventure of some kind since I last saw you,” he says. “For one thing, your vision has swapped hands, if you'll pardon my mixing of metaphors."

“How did you—yeah. That happened. Also, that old bat out there tried to kill me for no damn reason?”

She was aggressive, says Hastur.

“I must apologize for her, not that I have any control over her, really,” he says. “The fact is that when it’s time to stop her, I’m going to have to kill her—but she makes a marvelous distraction in the meantime, doesn’t she?”

What an absolutely fucked up thing to say. “I’m not sure I can agree with that?” says Tim.

Yes… I see your point, says Hastur, because of course, it makes sense to him. And she has done so since before you claimed this body, am I right?

Elias’ smile grows teeth. “I see you don’t miss much.”

No.

“I am mindful of it,” says Elias.

I’d guess… in the neighborhood of two centuries?

“Very good! Yes. I’m surprised one such as yourself would be aware of such mortal lifetimes.”

Hastur responds like a cat petted along its spine, arching its arse in the air. I’ve had to pay attention to such things. Human bodies are… regrettably fragile.

What the actual hell?

Tim frowns, feeling the anger rising, trying to push it down. “Hey, old guys. I’m still here, you know,” he says.

“Yes, and that is a perfect segue,” says Elias, smooth as fucking butter. “I don’t know what happened yesterday. I know Gertrude came back with her memory altered; I know whatever you got involved with raised a sort of… fog through which I could not see.”

“So you were watching,” says Tim.

“I watch everything I can,” says Elias, as though this is perfectly normal. “That is how I serve my patron. But I could not see what happened.”

Tim doesn’t care to tell him. Elias just rubs him wrong.

Chaos. That’s what happened.

“Vague, but fair enough. I cannot even see the memories in your head, Tim, which tells me on one level how strong the forces we’re dealing with are—but there is one thing I do see. You have been marked.”

Tim feels… bad?

He hunches a little. It’s not a familiar feeling, this. He's not even sure "bad" is the right word. “Yeah. Apparently, I’m doomed to become a rage monster, la-di-da.”

“This does place me in an awkward position,” says Elias. “You have, in a manner of speaking, been claimed by a patron other than mine, and they tend to be… possessive.”

Yet you have not thrown us out, says Hastur warmly (because the manipulation seems to have worked), and Tim frowns just a pinch harder.

“Naturally. I’ve never seen anything like this—which means, I fear, that you are practically catnip for me.”

And the two old assholes laugh, and Tim has almost had enough.

(But should he have had enough?)

(Wouldn’t he be more patient with this nonsense, normally?)

“Right,” Tim says. “So. I’m going to assume you also saw what happened at the police station.”

“I did. Most unfortunate.”

"We had something of a plan about that."

“Yes, and I may be able to help you with it—if you’re willing to make a deal.”

Here we go again, Tim thinks. “If you’re already watching, what difference does it make?”

“All the difference. It changes your perception of events, and alters how you feel. It becomes a gift to my patron—given under duress, which is even better—and thus, empowers me.”

Tim stares. “At least you’re honest.”

Surprisingly honest, says Hastur darkly.

Elias shrugs. “The fact is that you're difficult to see into, which is... unusual for me. Surface thoughts are easy; but I don't even know your name.”

He didn’t mean Tim. “You don’t know?”

“I can’t see it. I can see his memory of himself, but not his name—it’s clouded, even in your mind.”

We really are catnip to this guy, Tim thinks. “You don’t have to tell him,” says Tim.

I know. I’m weighing whether his aid is worth whatever price he extracts.

“I assure you, whatever ‘price I extract’ is going to be observation-based. That is, after all, what I’m all about.”

And that was weird. Very weird. Because Tim thinks Elias just lied.

There’s no reason for it. He can’t see any difference in face or body language. But he’s sure Elias lied. He’s getting something out of this beyond observation. Anger bubbles, slowly simmering.

I’ve had… various names.

Elias is looking so damned intense. “I would love to know. It might even help me refine my current thought on how to give you some… support.”

“Don’t give away the farm,” says Tim.

I see no reason to hold this back, Hastur decides.

“If you’re sure.” Tim is not sure.

I have been called Hastur. The Unspeakable One. I have been called… the King in Yellow.

Elias’ eyes light up like he just won the lottery. “Phenomenal,” he whispers. “Lord of Carcosa. Regaled in a gown of yellow, twice as tall as any man! Majestic, he glides over the ground to take his throne in lost Carcosa, for he is the king that was and shall be!”

“Oh, boy,” Tim says.

Yes, Hastur says.

“Well… I am, I will not lie, deeply honored,” Elias lies, and does a proper bow as he says it so Hastur can tell by the sound that he lowered his head.

Tim wonders if this really is the better option than cultists.

The metaphorical lid is beginning to bounce on the pot of his anger, clanging, jarring out of place with rising rage—and Elias sees. Tim knows that he sees.

Elias is enjoying this.

Rein it in, Tim tells himself, because this isn’t like him, this isn’t usual, he’s a patient man, he’s dealt with shit like this from shitty managers all in the past, this isn’t new, this… he doesn’t have to… he…

“Your self-control is extraordinary,” says Elias, softly. “I’m very impressed, Tim. And I appreciate it. I don’t particularly want to be burned—so I thank you.”

At least that time, he wasn’t lying.

Tim.

“What?” Tim snaps between clenched teeth.

Please.

Well, fuck, what’s Tim supposed to do with that?

They’re both waiting to see what he does with that.

Come on, you, he thinks. Pull it together. He breathes slowly. Deeply. Shuddering.

“You are remarkable,” says Elias, and he sounds like he means it. “I wouldn’t have guessed—forgive me.”

He is, says Hastur, as though he planned for any of this.

“I think I hate you both right now?” says Tim.

“Fair,” says Elias. “And I’m sorry that you’re in the position you’re in.”

Again—he’s telling the truth now.

Does Elias know Tim picked up when he was lying?

Tim thinks he does. Elias, Tim realizes, is a fucking dangerous piece of work.

You have an idea? says Hastur.

“I do. This is, of course, based on research and memories from those in my line going back some thousands of years. If I understand correctly, your current vulnerability is largely based on… well. Your host’s mortality.”

That isn’t… fully inaccurate.

“As opposed, let’s say, to possessing a body closer to what you had before?”

My original body? There are no bodies here closer to what I had before.

“What if one could be created? How would that affect your situation?”

Tim has no idea. “What, give him his own body? Go all deific Frankenstein?”

I need to… consider this. You say it as if there were a possibility of such a thing.

Elias’ eyes lid. It’s like he knows he’s hooked a fish, and can take his time reeling it in. “Well. You no doubt feel the stored power of this place. That is because we collect artefacts. This particular hobby is not unique to us. I may—theoretically—know of some deific flesh, carefully preserved in crystal. And I may—theoretically—know someone who could potentially use it to craft you a new body.”

“Why would you go to all that trouble?” says Tim.

“Because it will be an amazing thing to watch, and as things currently stand, you won’t live long enough to… ah. I apologize.”

“Scratch your itch?” says Tim, dry. “Get you the fuck off?”

“Something like that,” says Elias, who isn’t so easy to ruffle.

I need to think about this.

“Of course you do. Might I suggest you stay here until you do, though? No obligation, no payment—well, beyond watching you, which I will be doing anyway, no matter where you are.”

“You knew I already planned on that part,” says Tim.

Elias shrugs like a prince. “I choose to be gracious, nonetheless.”

Tim wants to hit him.

Keep it down, he tells himself. You’re not the rage. You not the… whatever the fuck wrath monster. You’re you.

“I offer protection,” says Elias. “We are not, of course, impervious to invasion, but we are far safer than a hotel, or an apartment, or, gods forbid, the street. Three agents I can see followed you here—two of the Corruption, who would devour you with mold, worms, maggots, disease; and one of the Desolation, who… well, to be frank, I don’t know what she’d do, given that you, Tim, are marked—but I assure you, she is not here on a mission of mercy.”

“What?”

“You were followed—and I am not talking about your policewoman.”

“Wait, we were?"

“You didn’t notice? Oh, dear,” says Elias.

Fuck.

Yeah, pretty much.

We shall stay, says Hastur as though the favor being given is them gracing this place with their presence.

Tim realizes with a shock that he isn’t sure his opinion is any good right now. He’s too angry. It’s not his rage. But it’s… spilling into everything. Tim has never felt unsure in his life. This is a horrible feeling. He wipes at his eyes, surprised to find them wet.

“Come.” Elias stands, not revealing whatever he thinks of this display, and heads for the door.

Are you all right?

Hastur seems to mean it. Can Tim trust that, either?

Yes. He knows he can. Whatever else is wrong with him, he knows he’s reading other people correctly, including Hastur. “Not really?”

I will do what I can for you once we are alone.

“More spells?" Tim scoffs.

Oh, the things I can teach you...

“Sure,” says Tim without conviction, and follows Elias Bouchard deeper into his spooky mid-london temple.

Elias hadn’t lied; it’s a neat little space down there, in the archives.

Well. It’s a mess. But the living quarters are definitely cute.

Gertrude Lara Croft Robinson is down there already, eyeing them, visibly daring commentary on the stacks of mismatched files, the open cardboard boxes balanced precariously against each other or on chairs, the truly heinous amount of cobwebs in every corner, between every shelf.

“Uh,” says Tim. “Nice haunted house you’re running here.”

“Mm,” says Elias.

Gertrude gives Tim a skewering look.

“No, really,” says Tim, stepping over six sagging boxes and around two piles of unsorted papers. “Get a fog machine down here and you’ll make bank.”

“Yes, well, Gertrude insists there is a reason for all of it,” says Elias as if his kingdom’s condition is of no concern.

Gertrude says nothing.

Tim suddenly wonders if she’s hiding weapons in the paperwork.

The little living area is, happily, free from nonsense. A very tiny kitchenette, a small cot sharing space with boxes and office supplies, and a bathroom with a cramped toilet and sink.

“There is a shower upstairs,” says Elias, “though it is in my office, and you will need to arrange time to use it.”

“Weird,” says Tim. “But okay.”

Elias shrugs. “It is a very old building. James Wright had it installed, so I am to understand, but what he was thinking, doing it there… well. I have no idea.”

A lie. Tim peers at him.

Elias smiles and it is a bright, sharp thing, like light glinting off a blade. “Oh, you are good at that, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

“What—was that a test?”

“It was. Over something I think you can agree, at least, is harmless.”

“Hard not to be insulted,” Tim says.

“Of course—but I had to be sure you knew on your own. I can clearly see Lord Hastur did not clue you in.”

“Lord Hastur?”

“I’ve never met a god before, and I’d prefer to be on his good side. Wouldn’t you?” says Elias.

Tim rolls his eyes so hard they hurt. “Subject fucking change. How can you help with that police officer?”

“Are you willing to do some footwork?”

Tim frowns. “Sure?”

“Good. Then I can send you to a few places which will, in time, lead her on a completely different trail.”

“So you already knew our plan.”

“Yes. I won’t send you alone, either. It’s hardly safe. Just give me some time to make a couple of arrangements.”

Truth. “Okay. I guess. Fuck, this is… Am I really kipping in a haunted basement to hide from maggot gods?”

“I fear before all of this over, you will experience far stranger things than this,” says Elias. “Now—do try to get comfortable. I will fetch you a key, as well as the code for the alarm.”

“Elias!” Gertrude protests.

“He is officially under our protection.” And there, right there, is the most real Elias has been this whole damn time, because that hardly sounded like the same man. The smarm is gone, replaced with a frankly terrifying hardness, the kind that makes Tim think he could shoot a guy in the face and walk away without a second thought.

But maybe it’s necessary to corral someone like Gertrude. She looks positively raucous for a moment, then glances at Tim.

Tim holds his hands up. “No quarrels with you. I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I reserve the right to kill him if he tries a ritual inside the Institute—whether or not he knows what it does,” Gertrude snaps.

Well, she certainly remembers some of what happened.

“Fair,” says Elias.

“Sure?” says Tim.

Gertrude nods as if her head is an axe and marches away.

Elias sighs. “I really do apologize for her.”

Will she honor your command?

“For a while, anyway. Her focus is ‘protecting humanity,’ whatever that means, so as long as Tim provides no such active threat, he will fall off her radar.”

“She came after me yesterday," says Tim.

“She’d thought you were attempting a ritual to give one of the Fears more power,” says Elias.

“She didn’t even ask. She just… assumed.”

“In the name of saving the world, she sacrifices people,” Elias says coldly. “It makes one wonder what the value of life is to her.”

So that’s a whole host of unspoken stories. “Wow.”

“Indeed. I’ll send help down with a key and all shortly. Rest, Tim. As best we can, we’ll keep you safe.” Elias smiles (and, oddly enough, was telling the truth), and leaves.

Tim flops onto the cot.

It squeaks.

“That’ll make masturbating awkward,” he says without thinking.

Hastur laughs.

Tim did not expect to fall asleep.

It’s not like this is the best cot in the world. But there’s something weirdly peaceful about this place; the sounds of paper rustling outside the little room, presumably Gertrude moving piles from one spot to another (also presumably just keeping an eye on him). The sweet emptiness of being underground, with so much stone and paper and threadbare carpet, is its own wonderful white noise. Tim hasn’t been in a silent place in a long time, and finds it soothing. Even the simmering anger seems to be calming.

He yawns, stretches, is amused that the cot creaks again. “Mm,” he says. “Guess this is what monks see in it, or something.”

What—the silence and isolation? Perhaps; though they tend also to be… industrious orders, working far more hours than usual. The time allotted to rest in silence is slim.

“Fuck that, then. Guess I’m starting my own monastery—to laziness.” Tim stretches again. “Hey—why do you know about monks?”

I’ve spent more than one life in one such place.

Tim sputters. “Are you serious?”

Yes. There isn’t much in this world that I have not at least tried, Tim.

Tim sits up. “You really did monk things?”

I did.

“Like… prayed to gods you knew weren’t there, or whatever?”

A dark chuckle. Well, says Hastur. I will admit that I tended to leave such places altered, compared to when I went in.

“What did you do?”

Finely honed insanity, says Hastur, as though recounting a garden he’d grown.

Tim gapes at nothing. “Insanity? Hastur, why would you do that? What'd they do to you?"

Nothing. It was merely amusing at the time.

Maybe Tim is overtired. He should find this beyond horrifying, but instead, it’s just frustrating. “Look, do you even know it was wrong?”

Why would it be wrong? Hastur feels sincere. I am a god. I am no mortal. I am no human. I have graced this world with my presence out of necessity, but I have the right to do as I wish while I'm here.

“No, you don’t,” says Tim, baffled as to how he can possibly get his message across.

I disagree.

“Yeah, obviously, but that doesn’t make you right.”

No? And your twenty-nine years of life tell you this, do they?

Tim has an epiphany. “No, actually. That Kayne guy did.”

It feels like Hastur goes stiff as a board. What?

“If just being bigger than someone gives you the right to do what you want to them, then we’re actually morally wrong for running away from him.” Tim’s proud of that one.

Hastur has no mouth to sputter. He manages to do it, anyway. That is not the same!

“Sure it is. He can, so he should, right?”

I didn’t say should.

“No, but you said you have the right to do it. Well, does he?”

It’s not the same, Hastur insists.

It’s Tim’s turn to be smug, and he leans into it. "I didn't realize you were morally deficient. That's gonna make this rough, Hastur."

I am not deficient. I am morally superior.

"Right. Superior. In being deficient."

Tim...

Tim sighs. “What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

I think, Tim, rumbles Hastur in a low and terrible tone, the real question is what I am going to do with you.

Tim goes very still.

And there’s a knock at the storage closet door.

Tim has never been more grateful for an interruption in his life as he leaps off the cot to answer it. “Saved by the… hey, come in!”

It’s Jon.

Jon, who looks like a gray ghost, who holds out a key, a post-it note with a six-digit code, and a torn-out notebook page with addresses scribbled on it. He looks smaller than usual, as if whatever just happened to him has compressed him right down.

“Oh, thanks.” Tim takes them. “Hey—you okay?”

Jon stares at him. “Did you know there are things?” he says.

“So that’s a nope,” says Tim, who has decided to adopt Jon whether Jon knows it or not, and takes his arm to gently lead him in. “Sit down, already, before you pass out?”

“I am not going to pass out,” bristles Jon.

Tim sits him down, anyway, right on the cot.

It squeaks.

Tim checks a box labeled PAPER, finds it sturdy, and plops down onto it. “You okay?” he says again.

“There are… there are fear gods.”

Poor guy. “Apparently so. Might help to talk it out, yeah? Why don’t you start at the beginning? Was it Elias?”

“Oh, gods, yes it was Elias.” Jon puts his face in his hands.

Hastur finds Jon’s distress funny. The chuckle is soft, dark, cruel; it makes Tim angry—and he’s pretty sure this anger is his, not some stupid Desolation’s. Still, he takes a moment to force it down. “Yeah. I did know, little buddy, but only for about… two days? Or so? I’m losing track.”

“Oh,” says Jon.

What the hell had Bouchard done up there? “I’m guessing your boss filled you in.”

Jon looks forlorn. “One of them’s got me already, apparently?”

Accidental priest. “He just went full info-dump, didn’t he?” says Tim, who feels utterly justified in disliking that guy. “I’m sorry. I’m still wrestling with it all myself.”

“He says one of them’s got you, too,” says Jon. “And I am… I’m to go with you as we leave today, and as we gather what is necessary to distract… police? From your trail? Then retreat back to the Institute as quickly as possible.”

TIm blinks slowly. “He’s sending you?”

Jon reddens. “Yes. He says I… he says. I…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Hey. You can tell me whatever. Just verbally process, I don’t care."

Tim, we don’t have time to play therapist.

Tim ignores him. “What happened, Jon?”

“I tried to quit to prove him wrong,” says Jon. “I couldn’t.”

“Okay,” says Tim. “That’s horrible.”

“I wouldn’t have believed him except he knew about Mister Spider,” says Jon.

“Okay,” says Tim. “Do I want to know what that is?”

Jon stares. “Can we go? I… I don’t think I can sit here and think too much about this right now.”

“Sure, all right. We can talk later,” says Tim. “But—no offense—why is he sending you?”

“Oh. Because I saw who was following you this morning.”

Tim blinks. “You did?”

“Three of them. Two looked quite ill, but one just looked… angry. They all made me nervous; I’d assumed you knew, but Elias said you didn’t.”

Remarkable, says Hastur. He truly is in tune with the Beholding.

“I didn’t see them,” says Tim. “I really need the extra set of eyes. I’m a bit of trouble, you know?”

“That’s what he said.” Jon stands (and the cot squeaks). “I’m really not in a place to wield rational arguments at the moment.”

“Right. Well, let’s go, then.” Tim guides him out the door. “What's at these addresses?”

“He didn’t say.” Jon is shaking. His slightly oversized sweater-vest nearly hides it, but he is, and it makes his voice tremble.

Pathetic, says Hastur.

“Do you hate kittens, too?” Tim murmured softly.

“What?” says Jon.

“Nothing.”

Gertrude is glaring at them. “I’m watching you.”

“What?” says Jon very weakly.

“There’s a queue for that,” Tim quips, and hurries Jon out.

“That was odd,” says Jon in a high, spooked voice.

“Yeah?”

“Could’ve sworn she had blood all over her for a moment.”

What? says Hastur. Tim. Tim, I’m going to need you to do a spell.

Tim ignore that. “Don’t suppose Elias told you why I’m in trouble.”

“No. He said that was your purview, should I earn your trust.”

Tim! We need to do a spell. I need to know what’s going on with this annoying little man.

“Earn my trust? Wow. He really is a dickhead, isn’t he?”

Jon sputters. “He’s… I don’t know! He’s just Elias! I’ve barely noticed him in the past three years. Once my interview was done, we’ve hardly interacted!”

Tim!

Hastur’s confidence in Tim’s spellcasting abilities might be high, but Tim does not have that confidence. At any rate, it’ll be difficult talking to Hastur unless Jon knows the score, so… Why not? “Right,” Tim says, trusting Jon at Elias. “So… the Powers Elias told you about? Something like that jumped out of the book I brought in. It’s in my head right now.”

Jon is taking this very seriously. “Really?”

“Really. Talks all the time. Real awkward.”

Tim, Hastur warns.

Tim deadpans it: “He wants me to cast some kind of spell to check you out.”

Tim!

“Check me out?” blurts Jon, stopping before the final stair. “For what? A new host?”

Hardly. That would not be worth my time, Hastur snaps.

“Naw,” Tim says. “He’s not a swinger. He just wants to see, is all.”

Jon’s eyes seem take up half his face. “What?” he says.

“You know, because he’s in me already?”

This has gone right over Jon’s head. He stares at Tim as though he’s speaking Sanskrit.

Like a sopping wet cat, Tim thinks with growing fondness. “Never mind. Let’s go check out these addresses, yeah?”

He’s an idiot, Hastur declares. Mentally deficient.

Is Hastur jealous? He feels jealous.

“Sure,” says Jon weakly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” says Tim, and pats him on the shoulder.

Hastur growls quietly.

New game, thinks Tim, because how could he not, and follows Jon into the lobby.

#tma #tma crossover #malevolent #malevolent crossover #tma fic #malevolent fic #tim stoker #hastur malevolent #kiy malevolent #elias bouchard #gertrude robinson #jonathan sims #corrupted fic

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westerosoliviapope · 11 months

Text

Auntie Dany & Prince Eggy

From the cutting board of an old story, as promised for @spookyscaryfox:

“Can I interest you in a mimosa, Auntie? A jay, perhaps?”

Princess Daenerys turns away from the white clouds rippling beneath the plane wing like a banner in the wind to eye her nephew warily. He’s the last person she wants to be trapped on a plane with right now, but Elia wanted them to return from their respective international trips together.

From Volantis to Pentos, Daenerys appreciated blessed silence as her traveling staff gave her the space to process her loss privately before having to do so in public.

Then, after an hour-long wait on a Pentoshi airfield, Aegon arrived.

“We aren’t going to brunch, Eggy; my mother is dead. And you’re not smoking on my plane.”

“You’re right. Grandmother did love a good vodka tonic,” he says, retrieving a small plastic baggy full of gummy bears from a vintage leather duffle bag monogrammed with a stately “A.T. VI” before pressing the intercom. “We’d like two vodka tonics, please.”

“You carry your drugs in a monogrammed bag?”

He blinks at her with eyes like Rhaegar’s—deep indigo opposed to the light violet of her own—with none of his seriousness. “What? They’re only illegal in Westeros.”

Maybe vodka isn’t a bad idea.

“How old were you when Grandmother let you have your first tonic?” Aegon asks, looking wistfully at the clear liquid in his glass.

Dany smiles, remembering her mother’s summons in the wee hours after her fifteenth birthday party. It was a bit of a tradition in the family that when she summoned you to the Queen’s personal sitting room for a drink, she thought of you as an adult.

“So,” her mother said in her gentle voice. “Tell me what you want to do with your life, my dear.”

To go to college—away from Westeros. To see the world and learn about life outside of palaces and stuffy old traditions. To contribute more to the world than smiling and hugging children for photo opportunities.

She’d managed all of the above, with her mother’s ardent support every step of the way. Through six years at Sealord’s College in Braavos where she earned dual undergraduate degrees in international studies and economics, then a postgraduate degree in human rights. “Diplomacy” missions across Essos and as far east as Asshai while she raised funds to start The Mhysa Foundation, which advocated against labor-related human rights abuses all over the world. Her fervent lobbying against archaic labor laws in Astapor, Yuncai, Meereen, and Volantis that were little more than thinly-veiled slavery.

And on the rare occasion Daenerys ended up in the tabloids for one silly thing or another (namely her weakness for the private company of tattooed Essosi futbol players), Rhaella never reprimanded her, even when Rhaegar and Elia expressed disapproval.

Gods, she missed her mother so much already.

“Fifteen,” she finally answered Aegon. “You were a bit older, right?”

Aegon nodded. “Nineteen. Not everyone was as wise beyond their years as you were, Auntie. Though,” he shrugs. “It could have been worse. I don’t think she had a drink with Uncle Viserys until he was twenty-one.”

That was certainly on-brand for her middle brother. “Do you remember what she said to you?”

Her nephew cleared his throat and did his best impersonation of Rhaella’s prim, melodic voice. “‘You come from the stock of rulers and rogues, on both sides. Gods be good, you’ll be neither.’” Casting a look at the red-haired Royal Guardsman seated with the rest of the detail near the back of the plane, he smiles a wicked grin. “She was right. I much prefer to take after the women in my family.”

Careful not to stare too hard at the older gentleman—Connington, if she’s not mistaken—Dany rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Aegon. He’s your father’s age.”

Aegon motions for a refill. “That’s the point, Auntie. Don’t tell me you’ve never indulged in a little ‘daddy’ play? That enforcer from the Dothraki futbol team looked like the type.”

Ordinarily, she’d indulge his need to dish; especially since it seems like he wants a distraction from his grief. But she’s in no mood to discuss her exes, least of all the one whose “sun and stars” tattoo she only recently removed from her hip bone.

“How long has this been going on?” If the man had touched her nephew when he was underage, she’d personally have him gelded.

“Before you start breathing fire,” Aegon held up his hand. “It’s only been since my twenty-third birthday. And I seduced him.”

“If Rhaegar ever finds out…”

For the first time since he boarded the plane, Dany sees darkness cloud his carefree expression. “His precious heir has just given him adorable twin grandchildren. And he has a throne to ascend. Who shares my bed is the least of Father’s concerns.”

Unfortunately, with Rhaegar and Elia on the throne, Dany has a feeling that the dating lives of all the unmarried Targaryens are about to be at the top of the list of the crown’s concerns.

"I’m going to try to get some rest. There’s a proper mourning suit for you to change into before we land. A preview from Prada’s spring line.”

With a smile, Aegon rises from his seat. “Princess Daenerys, Holder of Degrees, Khaleesi of Essosi Futbol Cocks, Mhysa of the Downtrodden, Procurer of Fine Fabrics for Her Favorite Nephew. Long may you reign.”

“You’re only my favorite until little Baelon is old enough to have a Vodka tonic with his Great-Aunt.”

Flipping her the bird, he retreats to one of the suites, leaving Dany once more in blessed silence.

____

A/N: I forgot how observant Aegon is on the low. Him saying he "takes after the women" in his family messing around with his bodyguard meant that he knew about Rhaella/Barristan and Elia/Arthur. lol

#scandal westeros #modern westeros au #modern westeros #modern targaryens #modern targaryen monarchy #daenerys targaryen #aegon vi targaryen

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hyperionshipping · 1 year

Text

Confessions

A/N: Ohohhoheheh. Back to my roots. Wrote this out on tumblr and not docs. Silly little thing and.... maybe me committing to something. Or not. Totally not. Gotcha!

---

"Is it really that gay to think and want a dream about a co-worker? Just like, one dream. Everyone thinks it." Elias looks up from his paperwork, eyes flicking to Angela. Her lips curl in what must be a knowing smile, but Elias looks back down to the papers, frowning to himself as he moves two to a new pile. "And, anyway. I'm so... unfulfilled." he laughed at his own choice of words.

"Sweetie, do you hear yourself?"

"No wonder Cam needed these sorted... this is from 2005." he mumbled. "What, Ange?"

"I know you heard me," she crossed her arms. "Come on, who is this mystery man?"

Elias sucked in a breath, exhaling through his teeth. "No one here," he lied, stretching in his seat. "Well, no one here here. It's someone who runs the museum."

"Do you hear yourself?" she repeated. "You didn't even try with that."

"I am not telling you!" Elias looked at her, shaking his head for emphasis.

"Is it Booth?" There's playfulness in Angela's voice. She knows it not. She would know. But watching Elias's face was fun for her.

"BOOTH!?" Elias yelled, blinking at her. "Booth? Really? Him? No! No way!"

Angela was giggling. "Well, you're awfully defensive."

"No! It is not Booth! Plus he has a crush on someone else." Elias immediately regretted the words, backing up to correct himself, saying that he himself did not have a crush.

"Now you gotta say." Angela sat down, looking at Elias. "This is getting hotter by the minute!"

"Oh my god don't say it like that!" Elias felt his cheeks start to burn from embarrassment. "This is-- you're harassing me. I'll report this."

"I'll stop if you tell me who."

"Angela, please!"

"I can keep guessing, sweetie. There aren't that many eligible bachlors," she looked at Elias once more, eyeing him. "And even less that I think are you're type."

"Wh-huh? You can't tell "my type" from looking at me!" Angela quirked a brow, and Elias sunk back into his seat a little. "Okay. Maybe you can."

"So, should I start listing my guesses or--"

"Hodgins," Elias muttered sinking further into the chair. He hoped Angela would drop it now. He felt like he was caught in the middle of a great big lie.

"Who?" Angela laughed. "I didn't hear you."

"Hodgins..." Elias still mumbled, wishing he could disappear in that moment. "It's Hodgins. I've..." he trailed off, not wanting to talk more.

"Hodgins?" Angela practically yelled it, and Elias tried to shush her. "I knew it! How long?" Elias shook his head, refusing to answer her.

As if Elias's day could get any worse, Hodgins himself walked in, a file in his hands.

"Oh you're kidding me," Elias hissed.

"How long?" Hodgins asked, looking to Angela. "I heard my name. I mean, it took a minute to get these for you Angela, I didn't think it was that long."

"Oh, that wasn't about you. Well, it was," Angela had a smile on her face Elias hated and he was glaring at her. Hodgins looked to Elias who immediately tried to look like he wasn't about to murder Angela.

"Right." Hodgins exhaled, going to explain something Dr. Brennan had found on the latest victim, handing Angela the file. "Is there something I'm missing?"

Elias jumped to talk. "Angela was telling me about a really dumb thing and I said it reminded me of you. And we were joking how long it'd take you to do something similar."

Hodgins gave Elias a confused look, and looked to Angela who, was trying hard to not laugh. She mouthed to Hodgins they'd talk later as Elias shot her a glance swiping his finger over his neck.

Hodgins left the room, with more questions on his mind.

"You cannot tell him!" Elias cried out. "Angela, please. Please. I don't wanna ruin anything."

"He'll find out eventually, Elias. I've seen you staring."

"Okay! Lying! But that's later. Please, Angela. Hodgins is a good friend. I don't wanna ruin anything with him." Elias looked at her, eyes pleading with her. "If I lost my friendship with him because he didn't feel the same, or, it made him feel weird, anything like that I wouldn't know what to do."

"Alright, fine. Okay. I won't tell him. But he's gonna learn on his own sweetie. You don't hide it that well."

"I just... I can't tell him now Ange. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I need to go digitize these..." she flipped the file open quickly. "Oh! It's a bit of a tattoo. This'll be fun. Bye, bye, Elias."

"Bye." Elias inhaled deeply, and once Angela left, he yelled into his hands. He was so utterly fucked.

#tricks writing #I'm imaging as cliche as it is Hodgins stayed just in ear shot 8). Heard all of this and then When Ange left he walked off #this means NOTHING btw I swear I just wanted to write it so NO one talk me

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theultimatenonbinarynerd · 1 month

Text

Readalong For Palestine 1: Minor Detail

Introduction

We have all felt helpless over the horrific violence and genocide happening in gaza. The Palestinian people deserve better and it definitely feels like we've failed them. I would love to donate all my money to help people escape and get fed but unfortunately I don't so I've been think about other ways to help spread awareness with this being one of the ideas.

I would love to constantly spam and repost in order to bring to light what governments and the media is trying to censorship but now with the crisis so bad I believe there's more I can do to help. Reading is powerful and a powerful tool which is why countries like America try to ban books. So I believe that even if it's just a small thing hosting a few Readalongs for books by Palestinian Authors will make a huge difference.

So to start I will he hosting a public Readalong of Minor Detail By Adania Shibli, translated by Elisabeth Jaquette. It's a novel loads of people have been recommending for people who are uneducated and struggling to grasp what's happening in Palestine. I also have chosen it worse because I'm aware of the situation where Adania Shibli had her award postponed due to the October Attack. She deserves better and although I'm aware there was a read along done in her name, I want to do one again as its super important to keep this novel out there.

Aims

My aims for doing this are pure and not for any malicious reasons. I was one of the many people who were brainwashed by the media's deadly narrative and I want to help educate other people as there's no justification for genocide.

So here's are all my hopes and aims with these readalongs.

1: Get More Books From Palestinian Authors Out There!

2: Getting people to talk about what's happening through reading and discussing Palestinian content.

3: Fight back against censorship and allow people access to Palestinian media that they want to silence.

Like I said please be assured that those are my intentions and I hope they are intentions everyone else has too.

Other Readalongs

I will be doing four other readalongs and I promise that those dates will follow in their own separate posts.

I'd love to read more Fiction Palestinian books but I desperately want to platform books that are educating non biasely on this content really well. On Palestine was again another no brainer as most people have recommended this as a key essential book to understanding the conflict further. Very excited to read it and evolve my perspective in further in this terrible time where tons of awful retric is being spewed out. In My Mother's Footsteps was a last minute one but one I thought that was so essential to understand especially in terms of reflecting on how Palestinians are being cruelly expelled of their own land in the name of Zionism another thing I want to read up further having grown up in a Zionist religion. Another bonus one I'm adding in is This Arab Is Queer as it has content from Elias Jahshan who is a Palestinian author and he's the one who edited the overall Anthology so it's important to highlight I think.

I hope that you might be able to join me and get something out of the content.

Conclusion

As I said the dates for the other readalongs will come in other posts and I will keep everyone updated. I hope those who are on Storygraph can join me and help raise more awareness about what's happening. They don't want us to be aware and it's important we fight back against that.

-Melody-

They/Them

#free gaza #free palestine #palestine #read along #palestinian genocide #palestinian voices #palestinian authors #minor detail #translated #bookworm #bookish #book tumblr #booklover #reading #storygraph

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damnhotmsimmons · 1 year

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Episode 6-True Conviction

Caution: Spoilers below

The BAU is back after the winter hiatus. Here are my thoughts

We start off where 16x05 left off

Yay, JJ is awake (even though she’s most likely in pain and scarred for life)

Penelope “I take back every mean thing I said.” Garcia. Still don’t understand how Garvez is not a thing

Luke is yet to be seen, which worries me, even though I know he’s alive

Emily saying “Wheels Up” for the first time. The jet is back and the iconic line is back

Luke is alive, but he’s in a much worse condition than JJ

Oh shit, Elias witnessed the whole thing

another flashback to the unsub’s past, in this case, it’s Elias

great, another Elias centric storyline and how he became a serial killer

“How are you doing kids.” Love how Rossi is being the overall father-figure to JJ and Luke

“We’re ready to find this son of a bitch.” Don’t messed with a pissed off JJ, Elias

Wtf?! Elias told JJ and Luke to get out of there? I guess he’s smart enough to know the repercussions about killing two federal agents

So Benjamin is dead, great. Not that I’d miss him but considering his background and being a benefactor to the network, I’d assume he’d stay awhile

So Elias won’t risk killing two FBI agents but killing Benjamin, son of a political figure is another thing

I love seeing JJ and Luke back in action but I feel like they’d still need to rest to recover quickly

“Somebody or something made this guy very good.” Yea Dave, I’m afraid that might be your books (based on that one photo)

Bailey telling Emily about the fallout and repercussions of Benjamin killing his mother, a Senator and saying how people claim that Benjamin is Sicarius. They wouldn’t be in this mess had you not let Benjamin go free

Emily once again being done with Bailey’s bullshit

I never liked Tyler though it’s sad that his sister is truly confirmed to be dead

Luke gushing over the new jet

The Herrera case being the one that launched Rebecca’s career

Goddammit cm writers, then again, they can’t seem to let any of the couples be happy. It still hurts the most with Tebecca since they’re the first wlw couple in cm

I’m gonna dread the unnecessary drama for Tebecca

It’s nice to see Emily help Tara out and being the one who does the interview as she doesn’t want to see Tebecca have a fallout over this

So Tyler is free due to helping the BAU

Please don’t set up Garcia/Green

Even if they put aside their differences, it’s odd that Garcia is suddenly acting so joyful towards Tyler being free

Suddenly, Garcia is worried about Tyler. Sorta justified since he did find out his sister is dead but I fear this will give the writers an excuse to set them up together

Garcia being happy Luke and JJ are okay and giving them a big hug

“Even Luke...” Wtf Garcia, what happened to “I take back every mean thing i said..”

Okay Silvio looks like an older version of Diego Luna and I can’t unsee that

Jesus, that guy tried to attack Luke. My man is having a rough time this episode

Not me being emotional over the Willifer scene. I understand JJ’s decision to take some days off after the Sicarius case

I love Will “we got your back” Lamontagne

Not Garcia having to bail Tyler out and taking him to her apartment, at least it explains why he’s suddenly at her apartment, but again, I fear that they’re setting things up for them

Poor Garcia, now she has to replace her rug

Tyler throwing up is me when the writers try to make Greencia a thing. It’s also me when they try to break Tebecca up

So Elias has a scar on his back

They gave Zach an obviously crappy wig, like wtf is up with that 90s-00s boy band haircut. It does not look good

Elias reading one of Rossi’s books, Rossi has bad luck with unsubs being inspired by his books and an innocent woman (who also reads his books) being killed

I’m sure Zach is a good actor but I don’t know if I can see him capable of playing Elias being shy and meek

Maria begging Elias to let her go, sadly Elias can’t save her

Wait a second, so he did try to help Maria, yea this will not end well

Maria stabbing Elias in the back and Elias’ uncle being the one who kills her

“Mala Noche” suddenly I have flashbacks to CSI: Miami

Ugh, Rebecca being upset at Tara, why writers why? what happened to their pinky promise

“Right now, you’re going to lose me.” “Don’t say that.” Tara being the cm fandom in this scene

I just want to hug Tara

No one can never be happy with someone in CM

I appreciate Luke reaching out to Garcia

Oh god, not Tara interrogating Silvio

It’s been a while since she brought up her expertise as a forensic psychologist

Tara talking about her past relationships and bringing up how Rebecca makes her happy, god I’m so emotional over Tebecca. Shame on you cm writers

“Mi novio.” Wait, this guy has a fiancee? Did not expect that

Emily and Luke’s reaction to Tyler staying at Garcia’s apartment. Poor Luke though

Garcia and Tyler having a moment. Oh no, please don’t tell me they’re about to kis-Oh THANK GOD Garcia stopped it

So Elias killed his uncle and said uncle is haunting him

wait nvm, he’s not dead

Is Cyrus the name of Elias’ uncle or an alias he goes by?

I hate seeing a pissed off Rebecca and sad!Tara

Garcia and Tyler taking a walk

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!

Suddenly the Jeid confession is nothing compared this (It’s still bad, but you get what I mean)

Rebecca telling Tara she’s not coming home, my heart breaks for them

It’s saddening when she told her that she has never went against Tara but is hurt that she wasn’t honest to her about it

“Family’s what kills you.” Possible foreshadowing of Elias’ fate at the end of the season?

Honestly, this episode pissed me off more than it should be, from the complete 180 on the Tebecca relationship to the Greencia relationship that came out of nowhere. So far, the Willifer scene and the Garcia/JJ/Luke hug are the few parts I actually liked in this episode. The new jet looks nice, particularly in the day. This episode was a stepdown compared to the previous episodes, which sucks considering how good the first five episodes were (even if episode 4 was okay ish than good)

There’s so many scenes that pissed me off in this episode. I can only imagine how things will go in episode 7 and the rest of the season

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #cme spoilers #cm spoilers #cm 16x06 #cme 1x06 #david rossi #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #tara lewis #luke alvez #emily prentiss

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marlasomething · 1 year

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(my) Mag a Week: Callous Distances

Hello there!

I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened and...this is the second one, for what I randomly role "????" (one of those statements that is a party of Fears!, so I gave WILD CARD) and "Archivist!Sasha" (Eps. 19-24)

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: general weirdness, mentions of Jonah Magnus at some point (hinted but is there)

Also on AO3!

Statement of Elias Bouchard, regarding the expansion of distances after he had left the door of his house open one autumn morning.

Recorded by Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

I just want to go home and forget about everything that had happened.

Honestly, I don’t even care anymore if my declaration is going to be of any use. However…I made a promise, so now I ought to honour it. I guess; it’s a bit too late to back out, either way. What happened had happened, after all…

In your line of work, I am almost certain that you have heard my family’s name. After all, I almost got to work for your Institute myself. It was a quite tempting job opportunity, I must say. I would have had to do the bare minimum and I would have never been fired; the Bouchard family is one of your greater sponsors, you would never fire someone with their blood, for your own good.

Even if they deserved it and, I can promise you, I would have, eventually. It’s always the same story with me…

…anyways, sorry, I am starting to digress. I guess that edible has started to kick in beforehand. The reason I am here is to speak about the trap my life has been for months uninterrupted until this very morning.

It all began in one of the most anodyne of mornings. I woke up, checked in my… roommate, still recovering from a night I will not discuss, since I don’t know how your policy is when minor crimes are involved, and went to take off the trash before having breakfast.

Yes, yes, I know. Maybe going into the London rather-chilling-in-the-best-case-scenario streets in your pyjamas without even having drunk a juice glass is not exactly an appealing act. However, the mere fact that people on my birth family loath it is what makes it worth everything. Apart, I was still a bit hangover and I’d rather not throw up in my scrambled eggs; better to settle the stomach with the shortest of walks.

That day, though, it was not going to be that simple.

You see, I made a mistake as honest and simple as forgetting to properly close the door and, when I came back (my partner still sound asleep, blessed be his obliviousness), I would have sworn it was ever so slightly more open than before I had left.

I clenched my hand, the weight of the trash bag I had just dropped outside back on my palm, carrying me to the floor with it.

There were no major changes after that. Life in our little apartment carried on as usual, that I could afford thank to some not very legal job opportunities, barely changed.

It was that Barely what turned to be even worse than an absolute confirmation of something going terribly wrong. It was little details, like the kitchen feeling a bit colder, not because of the heater wasn’t working properly, but because, if you set yourself in the further corner from the radiator, right next to the door that communicates with the pour excuse of corridor we have, you could literally feel the increased distances between you and the only source of heat in the room.

My roommate mocked me, saying that he didn’t get why now I always walked around the kitchen as if I was moving to be captured by stop-motion technique (he studies cinema, cannot resist that very particular metaphor).

However, it wasn’t that funny for me, since now I had to make extra time-counts when I wanted to cook something I wasn’t sure whether I would be there to observe close during the whole process.

From that moment on, one might even argue I actually got proper exercise done from walking miles and miles just from staying in the kitchen the whole time.

It was about a month into this new… routine when it happened. When the callus started to make their appearance.

I have always had very beautiful feel, something so delicate I used to hid them from the other boys when we shower after gym practice at high-school. I know the sort of comments I was going to get my way…

…however, even if I hid them for the longest time, they were still my pride and joy. That was why, the moment I noticed the thinnest of layers of dead skin starting to be a bit too rough to be just my dermis getting a bit too dry, I panicked.

It sounds vane but…when a huge part of your life is based on having absolutely no control over your existance, losing it over something that you were rather proud of is even more horrifying that a part of your house changing dimensions.

It didn’t hurt, at first.

However, I had to walk a lot and, after the kitchen, it started to affect the rest of the house; but I was the only one noticing it.

My…screw it, I am not even writing down his name, I would call him what he was (he still is, bless his patience), my boyfriend was not affected, up to the point that, when we were in opposite sides of the room and he started approaching having to cover a much more smaller distance that the one that I got up to him, his figure flickered.

Literally, he became non-existent for a millisecond; time enough for me to worry. What if he was really gone when he passed by one of those extended spaces I was solemnly alone being able to catch a glimpse of?

What if one day he didn’t reappear? What if one day he wouldn’t be able to hold anyone’s hands anymore? What if…?

I am not a religious person but, every time he decided to approach me at home, I prayed for him to be okay, to be there afterwards or, at least, in a place worth of his presence.

Then, the rest of the world became larger too, every single place suddenly being so far apart no matter how much I walked, it wasn’t until I was so tired I could barely stay on my feet that I arrived to said places.

Since leaving in my house had become a real pain in the ass (excuse my French), I might have indulged myself a bit more than usual in my green friend (though it is never green when I consume it…never mind, digressing, sorry), so I cannot assure that events happened precisely as I recall them…

However, I do believe my approach is rather accurate. Investigate it afterwards, I guess.

About two months after I fatally left the door opened, the callus forms on my feet were thick enough to be pinched separately from the rest of the feet; whose toes had also started to present small malformations, weirdly grown nails and calluses of their own. It was almost painful to look at and I found myself weeping and mourning the loss of my former almost Cinderalla-ish feet.

Again, I know it sounds over-the-top to get this dramatic over the state of a part of the human body that tend to be quite unpleasant to look at, but I am certain you also have that apparently insignificant routine/element in your life that brings you the most basic of comforts by knowing it will always remain the same. A same that you rather enjoy.

A safe place.

A place that had been taken from me, all because of the impossibly long and, more and more as time went by, arduous. There are even pebbles now! Managing to hurt my feet as they entered in contact with their soles. Between that and how much time that truly doesn’t exist I have being trapped in…I can almost feel the weight finding my chest as an extremely funny dispositive.

Because that is another thing: callous formations hurt. They hurt and itch half of the time and, before you wonder why I just simply took care of them: they had grown up to the point before they were already growing again every single time I went to sleep after I extracted them.

Coming here was especially hard, but not as hard as what I went through yesterday. The reason I decided to come in here in the first place.

I don’t even know if it was happening for real, since I hadn’t been sleeping more than three hours on a row and, between that and the weed…well, seeing things wasn’t that strange.

The point is, as I was going to, irony appreciated, to throw away the trash, running towards the containers (I had resolved to always go running, since distances were nothing but constantly increasing and it helped me to pretend things were alright), when I heard a second voice, a female-presenting quite sweet one, saying as clear as day how foolish it had been for her to leave that door opened when she had gone to buy bread.

Then, she grab my hand for just an instance and made me swear I would find help for people like you…like us.

I got excited: I wasn’t alone in my harsh endeavour. Not only that. In that moment, I realise that, somehow, I was cured.

But…even if I suffered no more…if I wasn’t alone…that meant more people could get attacked by this thing, whatever it is. I had to tell the world.

Do the right thing.

Hence, coming to you.

I hope this had been of any use.

Statement ends.

Well, I don’t want to come out as cynical but…this is one of the most bizarre stories I had found in the Archive and, trust me, I still have nightmares with that trash collector track and what the man end up doing to his co-workers…

…never mind! Apparently, he wants us to do something regarding what happened to him but…well, I am afraid it is not possible.

I will contact him and, perhaps, do a light search on my free time…if Jon leaves me any of that, since he wants me to have The Archive in good conditions rather quickly. What a prick…and think that I used to really like him.

Before he started using those bloody stupid grey contact-lens…

…shit! I guess I will supress this bit before properly digitalising this statement.

Recording ends.

#a mag a day #a mag a week #mag horror #statement #original statement #au #the magnus archives #fanfic #tma #magnuspod #sasha james #elias bouchard #original elias bouchard #fic #weirdness #mag

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fictional-worlds-are-exquisite · 3 years

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i get the weirdest feeling that elias was a much better boss than whatever peter’s going to turn out to be

#i get the weirdest feeling this is gonna be #wooo got rid of the bad murdery boss!!! [worse boss steps in]#like #significantly worse #like can we have elias back please worse #like yeah elias killed people and traumatised them every so often but we'd prefer that worse #the new boss: i'm gonna give you some paid leave...gonna be real nice...#me: [squinting] that's awfully kind of you but i don't trust you for a second #idk maybe it's the fact that things get real funky and distorted when you enter a room it JUST seems like a bad sign #also #didn't you like #kill that one dude. or at least do SOMETHING to them #my memory is bad but i FEEL like you did somethin dodgy #well #guess i'll find out soon enough #tma

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ryttu3k · 2 years

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Time for Sins of the Sires! Going to liveblog my first run here. The writer's last game emotionally ruined me so this should be interesting.

My character will be Elias Katsaros, or, essentially, AU Pyre XD Fixed computers, went dancing in clubs. Let's go with Julian as an ex! Disciplines... not seeing Blood Sorcery there. Going with Obfuscate for the first one, then Celerity, which should hopefully lead to it. Third discipline... hmm, Animalism, Auspex, Dominate, Fortitude, or Potence... fuck it, Auspex. Then Animalism. Damn this is one tanky neonate. 9 dots in disciplines already!

Oh yeah this definitely has similar vibes to Rent-a-Vice so far, writing-wise.

"No. I believe in justice, not authority." Hashtag just little Banu Haqim things.

Vole didn't laugh at, "Your pizza's here!" :(

Interesting that he came back from the Beckoning.

I love the aesthetic choices tbh. Soft goth, death metal, quirky librarian, hipster dude, indie pop rock, boho, corporate sleek, "...just, normal?". Let's go with... hipster vibes for Elias!

"But right now, you're a Hipster sipping from a blood bag like it's a goddamn artisanal coffee drink."

Persa please be nice :(

This whole situation is sad. Poor Selim and Andre.

I do like Gor. He seems to be a romance option (along with Persa and Markos, so far), although I'll just keep it relatively platonic for now.

Fuck it no matter what version Pyre's a softie. That's a Masquerade breach, probably XD;;

omg bat. Bat bat bat bat bat friend. Your name shall be Batty Koda and I shall love you <3

lmao whoops wrong choice of name XD 'Martha motions you in. "This is Elias, a friend." The stumble of hesitation before the word "friend" is almost imperceptible. "Elias, this is Elias."' Other Elias seems sweet, at least.

Elias just deathstaring the murderous seneschel godspeed bby. Oh hey, Dio looks funky but the words, "It was me, Dio!" just slammed into the side of my head.

Re: Kapriel, the Banu Haqim primogen and Gor's sire:

'Why do you have the feeling he knows you? And even more than that, that he dislikes you?

And that, maybe, you know him, too?'

I mean I am gunning for Banu Haqim. Maybe he's our sire?

Neoptolemos sounds like the kind that may turn on the Prince. Hmmm!

Oh the casual misogyny and cover-ups. FUCK HIM UP GOR.

'"I don't need you to defend me to a bunch of monsters," he spits.

The only thing that saves your relationship is how bad you actually are at diplomacy, which he finds almost endearing.'

An attempt was made XD;;

Oh boy. If the BH Primogen is our sire, I already dislike him XD;;

'Savvas smiles, showing off his bloodless gums. "First of all, I'm vegan, so cows are safe with me," he says. "But, more importantly, a cow cannot consent," he continues. "I can, and I did."'

Savvas said animal rights. Probably not so much human rights, but animal rights, at least XD;;

Poor guy :(

Ooh man. I wonder if the greyed-out options after Markos marks a blood sigil means I ended up with Banu Haqim and Elias' bane is about to kick in? Oh never mind it was a vision.

Bat baby survived <3

Usurper? :( Not the result I wanted, oh boy XD;;

Well this is fucked up! Aristovoros' cult, maybe? This is a hell of a Masquerade breach if it is.

'Quickly, you unfold the piece of paper. "Amphitryon is dead," the message reads. "Gor is wanted for murder."

> Good for Gor, if he got that asshole.'

Fuck him up bby <3

Oof. Was that a frenzy? Kicked in very... gently, hm.

Oh, hmm! Maybe siding with hunters for this ending? Elias invoked his humanity and said there were worse than him around, and offered to help work with the woman to find them. That could be interesting, actually!

Persa where the fuck are we going :|

Oh goodie they want me to kill Gor. Preeeeetty much already decided I'm Not Doing That XD;;

I s2g every time Batty Koda shows up I get anxious he's gonna get hurt ;_;

Hell yeah made it out. Kinda wonder how this'd go on a romance route, too.

'Gor hesitates, but then you see something settle inside him. He's made up his mind, and he's going to see this through. "I know who your sire is," he says. "You're not going to like it."

"Why?"

"Because I know him well. Because he's mine, too, and I know first-hand the burden of heredity."'

OH. CALLED IT. I guess each clan has a different sire option? Along with Banu Haqim, there's also Tremere, Ventrue, Malkavian, or Thinblood; not sure about Thinblood, but the other options may be Markos actually being your sire for Tremere, the Prince for Malkavian, or Sophia for Ventrue? "Unmask your true sire. Is it the Prince Peisistratos? One of the city's Primogen? Is it Aristovoros himself?" Hm, do we know what clan Aristovoros is?

Sibling found <3 Kinda glad didn't romance him, haha. I'm liking the familial vibe, honestly. On our way out of Greece, with our sibling and bat friend!

Aaand it's our sire. Time to run away!

Interesting, seems like we're officially going to affiliate with the Anarchs?

Mm. Not great circumstances. I'm noting some interesting themes along the same lines of Rent-a-Vice, here - agency and having the ability to choose your own bad choices. There, it's the Feeders; here, the ghouls.

Hey this guy is a dick :( (Also, Gor? Definitely the MVP, and I totally want him to meet Raul.)

...augh :( Gor dies defending Elias. Elias escorted back to Athens to be sacrificed. Okay this isn't good.

Hm! Okay, so that sire option is definitely. Not an option lmao

Okay that plan didn't go so well. Got chills at the Beast speaking.

Persa's letter ;_;

That was a ride! Lots more achievements and endings and paths to do, but that's the first playthrough done!

#vampire the masquerade #vtm sins of the sires

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monstrouslyobsessed · 2 years

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hhhhh hi uhm been a bit, huh??

a lot of not fun shit happened irl but i finally got my furnace fixed! somehow. been very slow going with writing though;; uhm so yeah, like ive said earlier, i might open concepts and / or headcanon back up soon to kickstart my writing again. maybe by sunday?? feel free to send an ask in to remind me then;;

speaking of, i got couple asks to answer!

tw / tags: impregnation, implied noncon, beastfolks minors dni

Imagine the saintess did understand the language, it wouldn’t be much better. Like, large af creatures discussing impregnating you in your presence, and also that that would be something very likely to happen again >.< I think the saintess would be very stressed out either way lol—anonymous

or perhaps it could be both! the saintess could have endured the language barrier before the alien creatures successfully implanted a language translator gizmo in them somehow and them finally realizing their actual intentions... :3c worse of both worlds!!

Hey, breeding love if anon here, I had a horny idea for your beast world... so you know how some people have outdoor cats who go get fed at different people’s houses so that eventually a bunch of people think they are the cat’s owner? What if the same happened with a human pet, and the only logical (horny) solution to this is that the first person to impregnate the human pet gets to be their owner ;)—anonymous

hi yes i will have to do smth like this.

those humans are probably homeless seeking shelters and foods. they would probably be called strays or smth the like. although the homeless humans are supposed to be illegal (they were supposed to be shipped off to the human shelter if spotted by either reporters or authority), i wouldnt be surprised if there’s a lot of them slipping through the crack. some cities wouldn’t have enough fundings to hunt after all of them and/or shelters being too full and / or poorly run.

so i pretty much imagined that there would be some beastfolks who liked having their company but not able to provide homes for them or believing that the human(s) already having owners (a couple might’ve a collar still but ultimately lost their owner, home or even got thrown out which sadly does happen. thankfully that is not too common). perhaps they have enough funding and are kind enough to take them to a doctor for a check up as you would to a stray animal (though it is actually illegal to “spay / neuter” any humans unless it’s health complications—because of how important human population is to the beastfolks), but that’s as far as they are able to do.

however, if there’s completing beastfolks over “adopting” one human stray and the said human not having a current owner…first one to get pregnant (if the beastfolk is someone who can get pregnant and the human is a penis owner) / them (the reverse) pregnant wins, generally, in the eye of laws. :))

however, if they’re all of same sex part/no one being able to get pregnant by usual means, that’s a whole other legal complication though. i do imagine the completing beastfolks would’ve pressure the human stray to choose. i’ll let you imagine what i meant lol

lots and lots of fricking

Could we get more love for the bonehead monsters someday?? I like em....👉👈 Like... Wendigos or sum... There is a character in an anime who is like that, elias ainsworth, I just love the creepy skull faces...—anonymous

uhhhhh

does this count?

this is for the next inktober…lol alien bodyguard is skull faced. this is my art btw.

Could I ask for a elf x reader smut like an elf prince or friend like a white elf— @nickibunny23

please look at my status before sending in a rq. they’re always in my header description in mobile app…

thanks sm for the asks! its nice having people randomly poking ya and letting you know that your blog still exists and is still getting readers (somehow) <3 hopefully my next post will be an announcement to rqs being open and / or an actual fic…🙏

#monster whispers #not writing #nickibunny23 #anonymous #anon #long post #beastfolk #beastfolks #tw: noncon #tw: impregnation #monster art #[i wouldve made my first image cuter but my thumbs hurts after doing my chibi one…[#[also im sure one of you is a minor]#[:/]#ghosts are curious.👻

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eldritchqueerture · 2 years

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Chapter 5: Yesterdays Left Far Behind

Chapter Summary: Jon explains his situation to Gerry in hopes of support, while the archival assistants search Jon’s office for any clues as to what’s happening with him. What they find quickly sets certain things in motion.

CW: self deprecation, canon-typical Lonely content, invasion of privacy, swearing, starvation, fainting

Author's Notes: I've been so busy, this week felt like two months 💀 I hope you guys enjoy this chapter though :DDD I'll try to have the next one next week but it might be a bit later, stuff irl just keeps happening smh

Work Summary: Jon awakens with a tidal wave of memories that don’t make any sense. In an attempt to go on with his life, he searches for the cause of the turmoil in his mind. He knows, though, that something inside him is waking up.

Likes are greatly appreciated, but please consider reblogging so other people may see it! Thank you 💜

Tim leans back, one arm tossed over the back of the chair, the other hand picking at his lips. His eyebrows are drawn together as he looks up at Sasha.

“Okay, so what does that mean?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Martin says quickly. They shouldn’t talk about this without Jon. He’ll have answers. Martin is sure Jon will have an explanation.

“Did he really make this—thing answer his question? Just like that?” Tim snaps his fingers and Sasha nods, deep in thought.

“I felt… I felt the air kind of electrify. All my hair stood up,” she sighs. “I just… Do you think he’s—”

“Don’t say it,” Martin warns her. Tim’s eyes land on him.

“Martin. I understand you have a crush.” His voice is patient but serious, and he ignores Martin’s sputtering. “But you heard the tape yourself! He knows more than we do about this… Hive, or whatever, and I have a feeling he’s known for a while now. He hasn’t been himself since he took this damn job.”

“Besides, I still don’t believe it was dumb luck and a hunch when you were trapped with Prentiss,” Sasha adds and shakes her head. “Not to mention the whole deal with Naomi Herne.”

Martin goes quiet. Fog gathers at the edges of his mind; a fog he knows very well. It sweeps up all of his thoughts and feelings, leaving him alone and lost in the mist. It appeared about the time he was transferred to the Archives by Elias, and Martin just brushed it off as nerves. The acute sense of not belonging, of being different, ill-fitting. Worse. Makes the imaginary fog that takes away all your suffering that much more welcome.

But something in the way Jon spoke that question on the tape… Something stirs in the fog now, and Martin is starting to have doubts. Concerning what? He can’t tell. There is a quiet anxiety at the bottom of his stomach, however, and the more he thinks about Jon being able to… to make people answer his questions, the more the anxiety stirs and the fog swirls in front of him. He doesn’t think the fog moving is a good thing.

“Do we tell Elias?” Sasha asks and Tim looks at her.

“Do you trustElias?” He raises his eyebrows. “If Jon is all… spooky now, for some reason, then I’d pin the blame on him first.”

“Fair.” Sasha scratches the back of her neck and frowns. “Michael kept calling him the Archivist.”

“Yeah, it almost sounds like a title.” Tim grimaces. “I don’t like it.”

Martin digs his short nails into the skin of his palm to bring back his slipping focus.

“H-He might just…” He takes a breath. “He might not know much more than we do? Maybe—Maybe he doesn’t know what to do?”

Tim exhales through his teeth and rolls his eyes.

“Martin, will you ever stop defending this man? I think he knows exactly what he’s doing.” Tim gesticulates with his right hand. “He knows something, and he won’t tell us what because he thinks he can handle everything on his own. He does that! And, you know, it’s fine when he does this to himself, because it’s literally not our responsibility if he wants to spend the rest of his life in a dingy office, smelling old paper and cigarette smoke, but now it’s also dangerous for us! This isn’t looking good, and if something’s out to get us, I won’t let it catch us unawares.”

Martin’s mind fogs up and he can’t quite meet their eyes. Sasha places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Tim stands up with a sigh.

“Come on, rant over. Let’s go talk him.”

Gerry is sitting on top of a stone fence, playing with the ring in his lip absent-mindedly.

“I mean—I mean you know how ridiculous that sounds?” He looks at Jon leaning against the fence on his right. The sky is now coloured with light grey and some touches of yellow and pink; the night has dispersed throughout Jon’s story. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re pulling my leg and fuck right off.”

“Then I hope you do know better,” Jon mutters and sighs. “I wish this was all just a dumb joke. And yes, I am acutely aware of how ridiculous it sounds. I couldn’t have made it up if I tried, not really my type of humour, to be honest.”

Gerry stares at him for a moment.

“Okay, so to sum it up,” he says. “There’s a part of you that calls itself The Archivist, that has spooky eyes and only manifests in dreams, and is imprisoned with magnetic tape, and, if we believe what it says, then the flashes of memories you’ve been getting are yours but from an alternate universe.”

Jon hides his face in his hands, pushing his glasses up to his forehead.

“On top of that,” Gerry continues. “The worm thing is going to attack the Institute in an unspecified amount of time, you’re sure at least one of your assistants had died in the other timeline, and you also somehow caused the end of the world.”

Jon shakes his head and slides down the fence to sit on the ground.

“When you put it all together like that it just sounds worse.”

“Well, you’re right on that,” Gerry snorts. “Don’t you think if you freed the Archivist, you’d get those memories back? Maybe the picture would be clearer.”

Jon looks up at him.

“M-Maybe… But that would mean becoming a monster.”

“Well, he is a part of you either way, right?” Gerry shrugs.

Jon presses his lips together.

“I… I don’t really know. Sometimes it feels like it is just another facet of me, and sometimes it’s a whole other entity.” Jon plays with a stone on the ground nearby. “I keep catching myself thinking I’m bound to become it either way… Unless, of course, I die.”

“Gertrude never talked about being the Archivist much,” Gerry muses and Jon raises his eyebrows at him with interest. “She didn’t turn into an eyeball creature. She stayed human up until we parted ways, and it didn’t really matter.” He looks at Jon with a sort of tired sadness. “She still ended up acting like a monster.”

“How did you separate?” Jon asks. “I… I remember you dying in America, in 2014. You were travelling with her then and unexpectedly had a seizure. The cancer was too advanced to save you.”

Gerry tilts his head back and sighs into the air.

“We caught it in time. A couple years ago; got radiation therapy and been recovering since. Although I did have another close call in 2014; not cancer, just a bullet wound in Pittsburgh. Nasty Slaughter case.”

“That’s where it happened,” Jon nods. “You were… Investigating something.”

“The Unknowing.”

Jon blinks and frowns.

“Doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Do you recall anything about Smirke’s entities?” Gerry asks and Jon runs a hand through his hair.

“Smirke…? Yes, it… He built it all, the buildings, and the fears… He…”

“Jon?” Gerry tilts his head curiously.

“He—He wanted to balance them all. Somehow— Christ,” Jon hisses when an electric shock runs through his brain. “It—It hurts when I try to remember.”

Gerry stays quiet and Jon feels the need to explain.

“Everything is… hazy. It’s like I landed in a river, and the current is so strong it could kill me. For now I’ve constructed a dam but that means there are still things I don’t know, and they sometimes spill inside, but I have no control over when and how. If I try to reach out…”

“Then the dam would break?” Gerry asks and Jon nods.

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Gerry takes a breath. “I can tell you what I know, then, and you can make any mental corrections and comparisons as needed. How does that sound?”

Jon blinks and looks up at him in earnest.

“You… You actually believe me.”

Gerry laughs softly.

“I guess so,” he admits. “I don’t know you, but I really don’t think anyone could be making all this up.”

“You’d be surprised what people can come up with.” Jon rolls his eyes with a hint of his usual annoyance.

“Besides, this all kind of explains your fucked up marks,” Gerry mutters and Jon stills.

“My what?”

“Your marks.” When he’s met with confusion in Jon’s eyes, he explains. “You know, when a person has a supernatural encounter, they’re marked as a victim of the Fears. I can usually tell what sort of fear it was.”

“A-And mine?” Jon asks with a growing sense of unease.

“They’re just kinda… All over the place.” Gerry grimaces. “The only one that’s clear is the Eye because of the Archives, the rest is just kind of muddled and faint.” He shakes. “I don’t think I want to know what you’ve been through to get them so tangled up.”

Jon lets out a faint laugh.

“I don’t think I do either.”

At this moment his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He takes it out and his heart skips a beat.

“I-It’s Sasha. My—my assistant. I kind of left them… Christ, I left them without much of an explanation,” Jon mutters and sighs. “God, I really don’t know what to tell them.”

“I find honesty works best in these kinds of situations,” Gerry jumps down from the fence and extends a hand to Jon.

“Have you had a lot of these kinds of situations?” Jon raises his eyebrows and takes the hand gladly. As soon as he’s up, he pats down his trousers to get rid of dirt, while Gerry chuckles.

“Got me there. I usually work alone; Gertrude did too. If she worked with someone, it was usually just to use them for some kind of an end.” A look of hurt passes through his face. “Maybe I’m not one to know, but not facing it all alone doesn’t sound terrible.”

Jon’s forehead ripples in sympathy.

“I think I made the mistake of pushing them away once,” he says quietly. “Thank you, Gerry.”

“Wait.” Gerry points at Jon’s phone. “I’ll give you my number, so we can get in touch later.”

With a soft, surprised oh, Jon unlocks his phone. A message from Sasha appears on the screen, in all caps: “JON ITS URGENT GET BACK NOW”. Fear freezes his insides as he hands it to Gerry.

“Something’s gone wrong,” he mutters.

“It’s not far.” Gerry taps the number in in record speed and hands him the phone back. After a brief look over Jon’s face, he pats his shoulder reassuringly. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Jon exchanges a last look with him, nods more to himself than to Gerry, and rushes in the direction of the Institute.

—

“Well, this is a development.” Tim crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. “He ran away!”

He stands in Jon’s empty office, with Sasha looking through his desk. Martin hovers outside in the bullpen, anxiously fidgeting.

“He’s found Prentiss’ statement,” Sasha mutters, looking at the document.

“Guys, I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Martin shouts weakly. “What are you even hoping to find?”

“An explanation.” Sasha answers, opening a drawer. “Any clues would be great at this point.”

The drawer contains some office supplies and keys to the storage rooms and such around the Institute. She opens the second drawer and finds empty tapes. She takes a quick look through them and notices one that has a label in Jon’s handwriting. “Memory.”

“That’s interesting,” she says, straightens her back, and shakes the tape slightly for Tim to see. “Get the tape player.”

She takes the tape outside the office and places it in the device.

“This—This really feels like a violation of privacy,” Martin frantically looks at them, although they do not appear to share his sentiment.

“Look, Martin, if he wanted us to blindly trust him, he shouldn’t have left like that,” Sasha says, and her voice is soft but steady. “And he is hiding something, you know that.”

Martin swallows but doesn’t say anything. The fog creeps up closer and closer as Sasha plays the tape. He silently and quite unwittingly hopes that it will protect him from whatever’s on it.

[CLICK]

[SHAKY BREATHING]

I… I just…

I need to…

[ARCHIVIST STATIC RISES AND JON’S VOICE DEEPENS]

You could never imagine feeling something so intense, so pronounced, and so overwhelmingly painful. Of course, you Know all of this; you know every emotion any human being has ever felt but you have never experienced them for yourself like this, in the whole scope of their intensity.

You stand next to the window, overlooking what used to be a wild meadow. You remember it full of flowers and tall grass, bathed in golden sunlight; watching the grass move on the wind, with the one you love by your side. You remember the blue sky, clear of clouds, and full of fresh air.

All those memories are now tainted with the Knowledge of what is. Of what you have brought about.

The meadow outside the window is but a lifeless desert. You cannot see anything for miles unless you close your eyes… but you can hear it. You hear the screams of searing agony and frigid dread, and you Know that you are responsible for every single one of them.

You look up at the sky – it is dark, deeper than dark, something that would be ready to swallow the Earth in its entirety if only given a chance; but it doesn’t. Instead, it watches. The sky watches with thousands upon thousands of eyes following every little movement and thought. And you know that the Eyes are fond of you. You’ve done them a big service. “You deserve a reward,” the eyes say.

You know where the reward is; you know what it is that waits for you at the centre, like a freshly cooked meal at the end of a hard day at work. A reward from The Eye. A reward for bringing about an era of dread and terror.

You fall to your knees, wracked with the grief and guilt that drown your mind, clutch at your heart and throat, not letting you breathe. You don’t need to breathe. You don’t need anything in the world you have created.

The one you love is beside you, whispers a soothing song of meaningless words that do nothing to ease the vast, overwhelming void of misery that eats you from the inside. You close your eyes and in the dark of your eyelids you still see it. The Tower. The Pupil of the Eye. The Panopticon.

And you hate yourself for yearning for it.

As strong arms embrace you on the hard, wooden floor of the cabin, you remember when you had a dream. It wasn’t really long ago, but for you it feels like an entirely different lifetime. And perhaps you are right – after all, time doesn’t exist anymore.

You remember when you had a dream of a peaceful life with the one you love. You tasted it, just a drop, but the desire for quiet and warmth has overtaken your entire being, and you fell in love once again with the one you love, as well as with the cabin, which now has turned into your prison. You remember thinking, hoping that it was all over; that getting him back was the only thing that really mattered, and the rest would fall into place. You had no idea of just how many silken threads of web you and your companion were entangled in.

You remember the embraces, the soft kisses, and comfortable silences, and you cannot quite wrap your head around the fact that the one you love is still there, by your side; after everything you’ve done.

You remember speaking the words, clear as day, which now is only a distant concept in your mind. You know day because you know everything. You know that the souls this world of your creation is feeding on could not remember day. All they know, and would know for the rest of eternity, is torment and fear.

The words glistened on the page – or were those your tears? – as you uttered the prayer to the Power that you, after everything, still served. You owed it your life; your soul. The Pupil knew of the debt the Archivist owes, and he would make sure that it was paid in full. The lines of deception went far deeper than you could have ever predicted.

And as the last word teared itself from your trembling, bleeding lips, your eyes flashed with green light, blinding the whole world and extinguishing the sun. The sky ripped itself into a thousand little pieces and from every crack emerged a glowing Eye, ready to take in everything about Its new world. And as the new world created itself from the light, you collapsed on the floor, your eyes bleeding and burned, yet still seeing.

Seeing It All.

Despite everything the one you love tells you, and everything you tell yourself, you hear a part of your being, a part that’s made of never-closing eyes and strings of magnetic tape, whisper that you could have stopped reading the words before you even started. It tells you that you know you had made a choice – you have chosen to live as the monster of the Eye in a world that serves and feeds you – and you believe it. And even though you believe yourself a monster, you feel your human conscience shattering every last piece of what’s left of you inside.

You can feel every drop of suffering and pain you have doomed the world to. And you’re not sure if it is a punishment severe enough to match what you deserve.

[STATIC LOWERS AND JON’S BREATH CATCHES]

Oh, God…

[SOBBING]

[CLICK]

Silence falls over the Archives when the whirring of the tape stops, as Tim and Sasha lock shocked gazes.

“What—” Tim speaks and exhales slowly. “If this is some elaborate, fucked up joke I’m going to murder this man myself.”

Sasha shakes her head slowly, confusion painted clearly on her face.

“I don’t think this is a joke, Tim,” she says quietly.

“If—If I didn’t know Jonathan Sims, I would say he’s a pretty good actor, but…” Tim throws his arms in the air and exhales through his teeth. “What are we even supposed to make of this?”

“Why would he record it?” Sasha takes out the tape and looks it over; nothing besides the label offers any clues.

Their voices grow steadily muted until Martin can’t distinguish the words anymore. He sits in his chair, staring blankly into space, focused solely on hiding his trembling hands. The fog is so close now, he can feel it – a chill that freezes blood in his veins, a cold so strong it numbs. It caresses his cheek softly, seeping through the skin promises of fading, far away to a place where he doesn’t need to think or feel anymore. He thinks back to his friends – or, work acquaintances? They were never his friends to begin with. They seemed distressed about something, and Martin wanted to help, wanted to be useful… But he couldn’t even be that. Maybe it’s better for him to move aside, let them handle whatever’s happening. He’d only stand in the way.

His eyes glaze over with grey fog and it’s all he can see. All he wishes to see.

Just him and his endless fear.

“…tin? Martin!”

He almost feels something touch his shoulders, a faint memory of warmth, but the cold numbs it fast, lines of frost running along his veins. The sensation of having a body slips from his mind and he doesn’t fight it anymore. He’s so, so tired of fighting.

He’s probably dying. Yes. This is it, then.

It’s exactly how he’s always imagined it – cold and grey. Lonely.

—

As soon as he sees the entrance to the Institute, Jon spots her standing by the doors, searching the opposite side of the street. He breaks into a run to traverse the distance.

“Sasha!” The fear makes his voice sound weaker. He stops by her side just as she turns to him. “I—”

“Martin's gone,” she says breathlessly.

“Ma, uh... What?”

“He's gone! Disappeared into thin air right before our eyes.” Her eyes are wide with panic, and she clutches her phone in a tight grip. Jon’s stomach drops when he realizes he has never seen Sasha so panicked before. “Tell me you know what to do, there's nothing to follow up, no clues, no trail, nothing, he just… He just vanished.”

“That's impossible,” Jon says half-heartedly, and the desperate look Sasha gives him only lessens his ability to deny the truth.

“Tim's searching the Archives again, but there's just no sign of him.” She climbs the stairs with Jon following close behind, and they enter the Institute's lobby. Jon's heart threatens to jump out of his chest, and he gets that feeling again – that damned conviction that the answer is just out of reach in his mind.

“What were you doing when he disappeared?” Jon asks in a hushed voice as they pass through the middle of the lobby towards the Archives; Rosie gives them a questioning look. Sasha glances back at him and hesitates. “Sasha, what were you doing when Martin disappeared?”

He doesn't even notice how easily he slips into the deeper tone, coated in static. He stops as soon as the words fall out of his mouth, and Sasha follows suit.

“We searched your office,” she says with a sigh. “You were being really strange, and we needed to know what's going on with you, but he didn’t like that idea very much. We found a tape labelled Memory, and when we finished listening Martin was... translucent. We called his name, but I don’t think he heard us. Then, he just... disappeared entirely.”

Sasha takes a step back with a horrified look on her face. Behind her, Jon sees Tim, at the top of the stairs to the Archives, staring at him in equal horror. As soon as their eyes meet, Tim springs to action, pushing Jon away and placing himself between him and Sasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growls.

“I-I, uh...” Jon falters, running a hand through his hair. His thoughts are scattered in panic and all he can see on Tim's face is anger and fear.

“What even are you?” He almost spits the words out. “Because you sure as hell ain't Jon.”

Jon opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He just shakes his head helplessly.

“Tim...” Sasha grabs his shoulder, and he looks back at her with concern.

“Are you hurt?” He asks and the fear cracks his voice. Sasha shakes her head.

“No, it was…” She blinks and takes a steeling breath, before turning to Jon. “Since I had to answer you, please, now return the favour. Do you know what happened to Martin?”

Jon swallows and searches the floor of the Institute’s lobby with his eyes. The tape, he recorded it some time ago during a flashback of sorts. The memory weighed him down like a sack of stones and he needed to get it out; the tape seemed like the most convenient way to do so. But what does it have to do with Martin? And how can a person just… completely disappear?

“Tell me—,” he inhales. “I need to know what it looked like. The way he disappeared, what exactly happened. With details.”

It doesn’t escape Jon’s notice the way Tim’s features harden at his words, and his hand clutches Sasha’s arm. He pushes away the hurt to a far corner of his mind.

“He went grey,” Sasha says, voice losing its earlier determination and slipping into concern. “Like… Like a picture losing saturation. He stared into the air, like his mind wasn’t even there. It grew cold, I think.”

“He turned into a wisp of fog and vanished,” Tim adds quietly. Jon shivers at that.

He remembers a place of grey fog, with the ever-present sound of ocean waves. A whole landscape covered in a roiling mass of cloying grey that coated his skin and made it hard to breathe. He found Martin there once; surely he could do it again. If he can find that place again, of course.

“I think I know what happened,” he whispers and a wave of sorrow washes over him. He presses his eyes shut for a moment, but then he freezes, feeling a gaze at his back, studious and prickling like a sharp needle through his core. He whirls around and looks up at Jonah Magnus.

“Jon?” Sasha asks, at the same time as Tim mutters: “Fucking hell, we already have enough to deal with.”

Jon’s sorrow sparks into an anger so bright it blinds all his other senses. Elias looks at him with eyebrows raised in polite interest.

“Where's Martin?” Jon walks up to him, barely restraining himself from attacking the man on the spot.

Elias shrugs, shaking his head innocently.

“How would I know? I just came out of my office to check what the commotion's all about.”

There are sparks of amusement in his eyes and Jon has had more than enough.

“Where is he?” This time he pushes all the energy he can muster into the words, deepening his voice, and he feels the power flow through his veins. His vision swims and he sways, although manages to keep his balance. Elias barely hides his surprise, and he visibly shivers, as if cold.

“He never left the archives,” he says slowly and tilts his head, studying Jon like a particularly interesting museum exhibit. “I'm sure if you go down there and check, you will find him making himself a cup of tea.”

Jon wonders if the compulsion worked at all. The power was there, and it exhausted him to an almost unbearable degree, but he has no way of knowing whether it actually pulled the truth out of Elias.

He searches his face for a moment longer, trying to work out if this is some kind of a trap, but a wave of cold sweat and a sudden ache in his stomach make him decide to leave it and go check for himself. He doesn't want Elias to see him when his waning energy runs out, and he already feels like he might pass out any second. He blinks to restore the sharpness of his vision and turns around without another word.

He passes Tim and Sasha on the stairs, not sparing a look at them. He doesn't want to see their faces, whatever expressions they might bear. He needs to find Martin, make sure he's okay, hug him and never let him go, never let anything touch him...

He opens the door to the archives and rushes to the breakroom, shaking slightly with effort. As he stops by the door, he immediately leans his hand against the wall for support and blinks away the dark spots from his vision. He sees Martin's broad frame next to the counter, holding a mug. He turns around and a look of soft surprise appears on his face.

“Hi.” He smiles slightly, fingers wrapping around the mug. Jon searches his face, then the rest of his body for signs of... What exactly? Martin seems perfectly fine at first glance, but his expression now morphs into concern. “Jon? Are you okay?”

“Are youokay?” Jon asks, hearing Tim and Sasha's steps behind him.

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” Martin chuckles with confusion as Jon slowly walks up to him.

He lightly touches his arm, checking that yes, Martin seems perfectly material. There are no traces of fog anywhere, although, as Jon looks into his face he notices that his eyes are faded almost entirely to grey.

“Um…” Martin’s gaze travels from Jon’s hand to Tim and Sasha at the door. “Is something… going on?”

“Is something—” Tim scoffs in disbelief. “Martin, you disappeared! Are you okay?”

Jon withdraws his hand and takes a couple steps back to lean his back on the wall, his stomach twisting in pain and another wave of cold sweat washing over him. Martin frowns.

“I was here the whole time,” he says. “You went upstairs to call Jon. What are you talking about?”

Tim gapes at Martin while Sasha frowns, visibly thinking.

“No, we went to Jon’s office,” she says slowly. “With you. And we found a tape, remember?”

Martin laughs nervously.

“There’s a lot of tapes around here, Sasha. But I’ve just been sitting here since you left.”

Jon furiously blinks trying to bring balance to his swaying vision. Tim glances at him.

“Jon, sit down, you look like you’re going to pass out,” he says. Jon swallows and nods, but as soon as he lets go of the wall, his knees give out and he tumbles to the floor.

“Woah!” Tim catches him, and his world is enveloped by darkness.

—

Jon stirs, surrounded by a familiar smell. Martin. He smiles, not fully awake yet, letting himself enjoy the moment. He knows Martin is a morning person; he’s surely already out of the bed, preparing tea in the kitchen and watching the sun’s slow ascent over the Scottish hills. Jon hopes today is going to be a sunny day; they could go for a walk, finally see the pond Esther has been telling Martin about. There’s not a lot of young couples in the village, she said, with everyone moving away to bigger cities, but apparently it’s a very picturesque spot, ideal for a quiet date. Jon thinks they deserve that, after everything they’ve been through…

He stirs again, multiple hushed voices registering at the edge of his consciousness. Did they have guests? No, that’s impossible, no one ever came by their house; they even collect mail in the village.

Jon groans at the empty ache in his stomach, and the voices go quiet.

“Jon?” The voice belongs to Martin. Jon blinks, the sweet dream fading away quickly, replaced by memories of recent events.

“Martin…” He mumbles and winces. Martin will know what he needs, he’ll take care of him. Just one statement should be enough to get him to be somewhat functional again, Martin should know that—

“Do you need some water? God, when was the last time you ate something?” He asks when Jon’s stomach rumbles. Jon blinks again to clear his vision, and sees he’s in the document storage, laying on the cot. The sheets still smell of Martin, who crouches next to the cot with worry creasing his forehead. Tim and Sasha share this expression, standing a little to the back.

“Why don’t you go to the breakroom and get some food for him?” Sasha asks Martin quietly. “Some sweet tea probably would be good as well.”

“Yeah, okay,” Martin nods and, after giving Jon another concerned glance, gets up and leaves the document storage. Sasha turns her gaze to Jon, who carefully sits up and leans his back on the wall.

“How are you feeling?” She asks and Jon can’t miss the terse note in her voice. Something heavy weighs his chest down and his limbs could very well be made of lead.

“Drained,” Jon says hoarsely.

“We need some answers and fast.” Sasha glances at the door. “Martin doesn’t remember the tape at all.”

Jon frowns. Martin doesn’t remember… Jon has a feeling Martin doesn’t remember a whole lot more things than just the tape.

“It’s like his memories were switched up,” Tim joins, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “It’s really freaky.”

“I… I don’t know why he doesn’t remember,” Jon says quietly, searching the floor. “I have no idea what happened.”

“Okay.” Sasha nods. “Then your thing, making people answer your questions. What’s that about?”

Jon sighs and rubs his face.

“It’s… It’s complicated.”

“Figures,” Tim scoffs.

“Look, this place… It changes me. It probably affects you as well, but not to a noticeable degree.” Jon picks up his glasses from the box that serves Martin as a nightstand and puts them on. “This power, it… It’s supposed to help the Archivist get statements from people.”

Sasha raises her eyebrows.

“What do the statements do?” She asks.

“They, uh…” Jon swallows. “The Institute is dedicated to a power of fear some call the Beholding, or the Eye. The statements feed it, and It in turn, feeds the Archivist.”

He can’t bear to look at them. He can’t face the looks of horror, the disgust, the revulsion. For a moment he’s overcome with an urge to just close his eyes and give up, let the matters take their course without him. How did he handle this last time?

“That explains the bleeding eyes, I guess,” Sasha mutters. “Why did you tell Naomi Herne to leave?”

Jon looks up at her in surprise. She seems genuinely interested, trying to piece together the answer without judgement. Jon shivers at how strongly it aligns her with the Eye.

“I…” He searches for words and closes his eyes in pain. “I don’t want to be a monster.”

The words are quiet and Jon’s insides twist with embarrassment at how pathetic they sound. Tears gather behind his eyelids without much consideration for his broken pride.

“How do you even know all this?” Tim speaks up, his expression not betraying how he feels about all this. Jon lets out a tired chuckle.

“That’s the really complicated part,” he says. “I—”

At this moment the door to the storage opens and Martin walks in with a steaming mug in hand.

“Unfortunately, there’s not much in the way of food,” he says, gently passing the mug to Jon. Their fingers brush and Jon’s throat closes up. “By that I mean there is literally nothing. S-Someone has to go out to get some.”

“Sasha, you should take the day off,” Jon says, blowing air carefully on the tea. “You haven’t slept tonight.”

“Neither did you, and you’re the one who fainted.” She crosses her arms. “I hope you don’t intend to stay here.”

“I have to.” He looks Sasha in the eyes pointedly, hoping she understands. “I have a statement to record.”

She inhales, looking him over, and nods slightly.

“That’s insane,” Martin pipes up. “You need to get some sleep, you can’t possibly—”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he mutters and takes a sip. The tea is very sweet, more so than he usually takes it, but it warms his stomach.

“Jon.” Martin’s pleading voice salts an open wound inside Jon’s chest. He should know why, he should remember, he should—

Jon blinks away the wetness from his eyes, not looking at Martin.

“I won’t change my mind, so you can save your efforts,” he says and slides off the cot. Martin watches him with worry, ready to catch him if he falls.

“Told you, Marto,” Tim says, seemingly aiming for a joking tone, but some of the tension of the situation finds a way into his voice.

“Just… Promise me you’ll at least take a nap?” Martin asks and Jon finds it impossible to say no.

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “I will. Now, I need to get to work.”

Sasha looks at him, biting her lip, as if debating something in her mind.

“I’ll explain everything on Monday, I promise,” Jon adds but Sasha shakes her head.

“No. We’ll meet tomorrow, somewhere inconspicuous. This can’t wait that long. I assume nobody has any special Saturday plans?”

They all shake their heads.

“Good.” Sasha nods. “I’ll pick a place and then we’ll talk.” She looks at Jon with raised eyebrows. “Agreed?”

Jon sighs and nods.

“Agreed.”

----

Author's Note: Jmart angst? Me? I would never 😶

Today's chapter title inspiration is Papillon by Blanco White! :)

#tma oftm #tma #niki.writes #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonathan sims #jonmartin

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xavadak3davrax · 3 years

Text

Crisis of lust /George Weasley

Lawyer!George

Summary: Fred and George are the most powerful lawyers England has seen in years and y/n is fresh out of college and looking for a place to do her internship. What happens when George decides to hire her? A lot of things.

Warnings: Smut (18+), daddy kink, dom/sub (Dom George) and if you squint very much dom y/n for mere seconds. Spanking, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, unprotected sex (because somehow I find that hot lol). There’s angst and fluff and mentions of things such as anxiety and more sad moments but nothing extreme!

a/n: this is lawyer George, it’s 11.7 k words. I got carried away and ended up making this in only one part aha. As always English in not my first language, any mistakes or wrongly worded phrases, please excuse me. Titles are not my thing so yeah this is just horrendous. As a lot of people around tumblr say: don’t be shy, reblog! Thank you so much to everyone who even takes time to read my stuff. Love you all!

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Weasley’s Law Firm was the most famous law firm in whole England. They were known for hiring the best of the best. They also got the worse of the cases there is. Fred and George worked extremely hard on those cases and that’s what got them where they are today. Every murder case there was they were the first, people came to.

They had all the knowledge, all the experience, all the fame. Although they started small, they very quickly became who they are today because they are that good. Now both of them only take on the biggest cases and usually they came from very famous people, otherwise they keep themselves busy by taking their firm a step further.

While Fred was busy working on a case from a famous singer who was now being accused of murdering his wife and a whole lot of love affairs in between, George was working on another very important thing.

Interns. Every year their firm hired at least two interns. Becoming an intern for them was extremely difficult, and the skills required were almost never met (reason why they either ended up with one intern, or none at all). The type of work they needed from them was not fetching coffee or take some copies of some documents. They required their help all the time and their knowledge. Last year they had taken two, top of the class and they showed to be so good they recommended them to another very good law firm that took them in that moment. How could they not? Coming from the Weasley Firm they were the best of the best.

This year however things were proven to be a lot more difficult. It looked like anyone wanted to join them, people with so little qualification that George wondered how they even met the requirements to apply to their firm. Universities usually advised certain students, who they knew not to be good, or had the necessary demands, to just not attempt their chance at it.

George’s headache was even stronger now, and it only had been two hours since he started.

“Mate need your help.” Fred’s voice took him out of his trance and made him look at his brother. George nodded and Fred put the documents on his secretary. Pointed with his head towards them and George picked them up and had a look.

“Oh shit.” George said, laughing a little loudly. “She was involved with his assistant. That does make him suspicious. Finds out his wife his sleeping with his assistant, feels betrayed, takes his chance when she’s in the pool, makes it look like an accident.” George looked at his brother who nodded.

“I mean yeah, but to confirm that theory we need acces to the cameras he has displayed around his house. He’s been refusing that since the beginning, told him how that makes him a suspicious and that he should just give us those, since we’re trying to help him not get convicted. Any advice?”

“Ginny is very good with persuasion, maybe we should give her a call? She’s always our best chance.” George suggested, and when Fred widen his eyes, he knew he had had a brilliant idea.

“Yeah thanks mate. I will. By the way still looking for interns?” Fred nodded to the papers in front of him. He had to look through every curriculum.

“Yes, this year is proving to be hard. Everyone thinks they can get in, almost everyone had a bad average grade.” He brough his hands to his red bright hair and pulled at his hard, letting a groan leave his mouth. “Can’t take this shit anymore.”

Fred came around the secretary and leaned down next to him to get a better look at the people he was looking at. All of sudden his hand came to the table and pointed at girl. “Look, she finished top of her class, with 20.” George opened his eyes and looked at where he was pointing.

“How did I miss her?” it came out in a whisper, only because George was a little loss at her beauty. Sure he had seen a lot of beautiful girl applying to his firm, and he had a lot of them working for them, but he never saw anyone like her.

He tried to pull if thought out that. She was no minor, after all she had finished college and was looking for a place to do her internship at, but that didn’t mean it would not be wrong.

“I don’t know, but you did. And let’s look at the rest…” Fred said in a wondering voice his finger coming over the list of names. “You also have, his name is Elias, he’s in the same situation as y/n.” He looked at his brother, then got up from the crouched position he was in. “You were making a big fuss. I mean I clearly understand your point, besides these two no one else is even close. But I found you the interns. I have to do your job and mine.” He joked in the end earning from George a punch in his arm. That made Fred groan.

“Go on about your day asshole, I will take care of the rest. But thanks for the help.” George screamed the last part a little because Fred was already exiting the door and closing her.

So George arranged his secretary so the only things in front of him was y/n’s and Elias resumes and applications so he could read them and actually decide if they were to be hired or not. And if yes proceed to send an email to them to tell them the news.

Some people might think they would prefer to give this job to their secretaries and let them do this. But one year they did that, and ended up with some of the worse people they could find, just didn’t know how to do the simplest of jobs. It might sound mean, but they had a reputation to maintain.

So every year they alternated had to who had this job. This year it had been him. And after an hour of so of reading everything, he did decide to hire them. So he proceed to write their acceptance email.

⚘

y/n was sitting in her sofa, a tub of her favorite ice cream in her hand. She was in her last week of collage (ever) and she was patiently waiting to receive any type of email from the firm she had applied to do her internship.

She would be lying also if she said she hadn’t receive some emails already accepting her. The problem? Well they were all last options, those were she said to herself ‘if I don’t get in it I will need something to cushion the fall’ her mother had told her that expression and it stuck with her to this day.

y/n really, really wanted to work for The Weasleys. They were the best of the best, everyone was racing to get a place in their firm. She wanted to be confident, with her grades how could she not? But she also knew a lot of people were had good has her, she for sure would be competing with the best of the best.

She was close to answering one of the emails of the firms she already got an email from.

She sighed. Looked at the pot of ice cream and then got up to go get her computer. When she had it she came back to the sofa and slumped on the couch and groaned quietly. That stupid horrid anxious feeling coming down on her. Every time for the last few days when she was to open her pc that’s how she felt. That desire to see an email from that firm.

When she opened it for a few seconds she didn’t get any notifications.

“Fucking stupid computer.” She muttered, sometimes her pc didn’t connect to the Wi-Fi and she hated that. Because then she would get millions of notifications that she didn’t get because she wasn’t connected. But it connected a few seconds later and she was flooded with messages.

In between all of those if she wasn’t paying any attention she would’ve missed it, probably deleted it too. The email she was so dreading. She didn’t know how they worked. Did they sent an email if you didn’t get in? or did they just sent if you got in? some firms would do both. Not that y/n had gotten any, every single one was accepting her and very eager to work with her.

With trembling fingers, and her breath caught in her throat she open the email, but closed her eyes quickly before she could read what it said.

“breath, everything is going to be ok. Even if you don’t get in, you have a lot of other option.” She pepped talked herself, and then after what felt like an eternity to compose herself, opened her eyes and started reading.

Her mouth moved but no sound came out as she read through every word. The words “congratulations” “we’ve accepted you” “we wait for your response for further meetings” making her mind go dizzy. And then a scream left her lips.

“I got in, Oh my god I got in.” She almost threw her computed on the ground from how happy she was. Every night she didn’t sleep, every night out she had denied her friends, every hour in the library and every cent her parents had spent on her was worth it.

Her parents weren’t rich or even close to it, but they had promised her and her siblings that they would pay for their education until they could. When she had entered the best university and the most expensive she told her parents she would find work and pay for everything. They told her no. Her mom and dad found each a second job and payed for it, even finding a small flat in the middle of nowhere but still close to where she attended, for her to stay in. And now, everything they ever did for her was paying of.

After calming herself down she started to formulate a response to the email. And then proceeded to call her parents, steric and with a smile they were sure they could hear and see from the other side of the phone.

⚘

She started today. Although very happy and grateful for the opportunity she couldn’t help but let the nerves consume her. Some money she had money a little while a go from some old clothes she sold, she decided to spent it on a new suit. She didn’t very much like dresses, and skirts. In all the important meetings and presentations she had throughout her years in collage, she always wore suits.

But for her first day on the firm, and to give a good impression she couldn’t just wear one of the old ones. So she bought this black suit. The pants were all black and a little tight and came to rest on her ankles. The jacket of the suit had a little cleavage and was supposed to not be worn with anything underneath. She had only her bra in, one you wouldn’t be able to see. The jacket closed beautifully around her, and made some of the nerves subside. Her confidence radiating all over her. ´

She looked at herself one last time in her mirror and then picked up her purse and rested it on her shoulder.

“You can do this.” y/n murmured as she closed the door of her apartment and made her way to catch the bus. A bus were if her plans were correct, she would arrive 30 minutes earlier, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t have to get in until the hour they had arranged, but at least she knew she would be there at said hour and not be late on her first day.

Can you imagine, being late on your first fucking day and give her (hopefully) new bosses that impression? They would deny her right then and there and she would not have the chance to show her potential.

As planned she arrived early. Their firm was one of the biggest and modern building in the city so it wasn’t hard to miss. She decided to get herself a little comfort drink while she made the time pass. When only five minutes were left for her interview she entered the firm. Everything was spacious, and very open and they got all the light in here that was possible. She felt small in such a big space. Although taking and studying law, she always had social anxiety. The friends she had were the most amazing people and took her right under their wing and always made her feel safe. She wishes they were here to help her.

“Hi, my name is y/n y/l/n, I’m here for an interview, I-“ her words came a little shaky. She took a deep breath and smiled at the lady behind the big counter, her face had a smile that made y/n a little less nervous.

“You’re here because you are the intern right?” she completed her sentence and then wrote something on her computer. “The other intern is also here. You both will be interviewed at the same time, Mr and Mr Weasley will both be in there to talk you through everything.” She gave her something of a smile. “You can take the lift, they’re in the last floor. Iris, their personal secretary will instruct you when to come in.”

“Thank you so much.” y/n said, bid her good day and then went on her way. When she got to the second floor she was met with a beautiful modern entrance that had some very good looking and comfortable chairs in. In the middle a glass table with some law magazines. ‘of course,’ she thought to herself ‘what else would they have here’ she laughed a little.

She she looked better she found a tall, blonde guy sitting in one of the chairs. The white button down he wore had hugging his muscles very well, y/n might’ve felt drool pulling in her mouth. It only intensified when she looked at his pants and the way they hugged his legs. His black necktie made everything look together. He didn’t wore a jacket that’s why. The jacket was hanging in the arm chair.

“You must be y/n.” he said, getting up from his position to come and greet her. His hand stretched out, the veins in his hands very prominent. She had to put herself together, she was here to work.

“Yes, and you are?” she was a little lost, the lady downstairs hadn’t told her his name, but told him hers.

“Elias, it’s a pleasure.”

“pleasure is all mine.” She smiled.

“The lady at the front told me to wait here, she will call us when they’re ready for us. Do you for any reason know how they look?” He asked quietly trying not to bring attention from the people working in this floor. From what y/n understood, their offices were here, and their secretary was also here but some other people worked here to. Potential important lawyers?

“Ahm… no, not really. Tried to look them up but no photos. Very private aren’t they? Wonder how they do it, being so well known among everyone. Specially famous people.” y/n said when she brought her thoughts to focus on Elias again. She sitting next to him and they chatted for a little, until they were called.

“They will see you now. You can go down the hall, and it’s the last door to your right. It’s the meeting room.” Iris spoke eloquently, and that made y/n and Elias share a worried look before they got on their merry way.

“That made a little nervous, I mean, didn’t expect much less from someone who works with such big people, but… you know what I mean?” Elias spoke, worry in his voice. Not being able to form many words do to her being nervous, y/n just nodded.

“Do the honors.” y/n managed to let out, a small and brief smile on her face. Elias opened the door after knocking and hearing a ‘come in’ from inside.

The table wasn’t full of people but fore sure y/n would have a hard time, until they introduced themselves, knowing who Fred and George were. They had invited other lawyers, she assumed, from their position and all, she had to be. She was now regretting accepting this.

“Please com in and have a seat.” One man with spiky, red hair pointed to the chairs that had y/n’s and Elias name. They proceeded to do just that.

“I’m George, this is my brother Fred, and these are some of our best lawyers. Please don’t be frightened we just like to make sure the interns we are giving a chance have actual potential and are not just ‘grades’, that’s why they are here.”

y/n had to swallow very hard and hope to not be heard. If she was gonna have to work here and look at that all day was she gonna be able to do it? God helped her. If she thought Elias was attractive mere ten minutes ago… what did she thought of these two men, who were clearly twins but somehow had differences that made her more attractive to the one who was speaking.

“We are going to make a series of questions, from all of us and see how you answer and handle very specific situations. “ It was Fred speaking, he held what she expected to be a smile on his face, while his brother had a way more serious demeanor.

They nodded, not knowing if they should speak or not. George held his eye on the girl slightly longer than he did on Elias. She was more beautiful here than in the picture she had presented in her portfolio. How could he handle that? And if they kept her she was to work on their floor all the time? He needed to control himself, now.

The questions started and they alternated between y/n and the boy next to her, making sure the majority of the questions were different for both of them, to actually see their potential and not some copy of the others answer.

When it ended y/n felt like her heart could be heard by everyone around her and that it would come out of her chest. She didn’t have a very good perspective on things, in a way, if they were good or bad. So she didn’t know if she had done a good job, the faces everyone had at the table didn’t help a little.

Elias gave her a look, a reassuring one. And under the table, like they’ve knew each other for years he squeezed her hand gently.

“I think you both did an amazing job, I think everyone agrees?” Fred gave a questioning look around, starting at his brother and then to their co-workers. Everyone was nodding. “So I think this is all, you are hired as our interns.”

She could scream again, like she did when she had gotten the email saying she was accepted. But she controlled herself. Gave Elias hand a squeeze back and when everyone got up they both followed them.

“I think my brother will now sort with you both every last detail. I won’t be present mainly because I have an import case to work on, but we trusted each other with our lives. So you won’t miss me.” Fred tried to loosen the mood with a small inexistent joke.

Everyone started to leave and only left George, y/n and Elias there.

“If you would follow me please, my office will be a bit more comfortable than these chairs.” He passed through them and like lost puppies they followed to his office.

They spent hours talking about everything. George wanted them to be on the same page, and following everything precisely. y/n tried her best to memorize every word he said, but it started to get harder when after a while George felt bored of his position and dragged his chair away from his desk and then crossed his right leg over his left knee, leaving him in a powerful and extremely hot position that made y/n have to cross her legs and try to be as discreet as possible while trying to alleviate some of the pressure she had.

Why was she acting like a stupid teenager? For heavens sake, this was her work place, that was her boss, and she should not even thinking about him as other than that. But when his hands came to rest on his crotch her attention switched to the very prominent bulge he presented. Her eyes were not there for even a minute, but she still felt guilty when she looked up to see him looking at her. She looked away fast. He continued with what he was saying.

y/n hoped Elias was oblivious to the situation.

After while George got himself of that position and looked at both of them.

“This is everything, if for any reason something comes up you can always ask Iris, or any other thing, email me or my brother or ask Iris to speak with us. Right?”

He popped his tong and proceeded to get up when everything was settled.

⚘

Their first official day started the next day. And then after that is was smooth sail for a while. y/n helped Fred a lot in his cases and he loved how she was just so vibrant to have around. Took him a while to get her out of her shell, to show her she could treat him as a friend rather then her boss. He felt like he somehow could trust her a lot and when they were very concentrated on a job and they were both tired he would tell her bits and pieces of his life. Usually about his girlfriend Angelina and how they’ve been tighter for years and he is thinking of proposing. Or how he feels old and wished he could be an intern all over again. To which y/n would say:

“Aren’t you considered the youngest and most successful lawyer of all time?” Those were facts, Fred and George were in fact all of that. At twenty five they had a massive empire, that they built from scratch and with only the help of a very few close ones.

He would share small details of his childhood, of him and George. Usually those gave y/n some hope that George would one day be to her what Fred was to her. But until now all she got from him were small short and cold answers from anything she was working on. Usually Fred asked her to go bribe them out of him. Elias was the one who worked more closely to George and even him was usually in other lawyers offices doing close work with them.

“George is stubborn and weird sometimes. He always loves to work with you lot, I don’t understand why this year is different.” Fred stated, looking at y/n for a moment and shrugging when he couldn’t find an answer to it.

“Mister knows everything and everything needs some closure, is now left speechless.” y/n joked and they both laughed a little loud. His office door open because the case they were working on required y/n to leave all the time in search for answers. They didn’t notice George at the door.

He cleared his throat. Fred looked at him, and y/n that on the other side of the desk, back to George turned around to also look.

“Elias is sick and had to go home, I have come important matters to take care of, would it be a nuisance if y/n could do it?” She noticed he spoke more to his borther than to her.

“Sure, what she was doing can continue tomorrow or whenever Elias comes back. Right y/n?”

“Yes of course. Mr. Weasley you just have to show me what to do.” She got up and showed herself ready to work. After her first day her clothes were a little bit more casual, but she still wore pants, but George still had dificlty in not imagining those beautiful legs wrapped around his head.

‘Get your head out of your gutter George’ he always thought to himself when these thoughts came, ‘she’s young, and working for you.’

“Yes, come with me.” He instructed and turned around to leave. y/n waved to Fred and closed the door after she left. She knew her work with him wasn’t nearly done, but without Elias she would have to split herself in two and help both of them. Since Fred always had her help, he would have to to what he could for the time being without her.

“We have to through all these voice messages, the case calls for it and four ears are better than just two.” His voice was always so serious how could he work like this? Elias never complained to y/n on their lunch break or when they decided to do something outside work, that almost always ended up in work talk. They just didn’t have much in common besides that.

“yes sure, can you give me paper and pen or a pencil will do just fine.” George gave her a puzzled look “Well with Mr. Weasley every time there’s voice calls or something we take notes to pin point important stuff.” George knew that by Mr. Weasley she meant Fred but she knew that outside she called him Fred, they were that close. She had only ever heard Mr. Weasley came out of her mouth when it was related to him.

“Yeah you’re totally right. Here. Have this.” He gave her the notebook in front of him, the one that had all the important notes on the case. She sat down on the chair in the same place of Fred’s office and waited for him to start the audios.

She placed her head on her hand, and her elbow was resting on the desk. She looked at George who just started the audios and the tried to concentrate. Silently throughout all the time she was there she took many notes, George was a little taken aback, what was he missing that she clearly wasn’t, when it ended she looked at him. He barely had time to start something because she started first.

“So according to the first call, the lady in question didn’t know the person on the other side, but that person knew her very well, otherwise how could they be so sure of such personal information. The thing was she wasn’t paying attention and didn’t notice any of the signs of what was to come.” y/n started, and when she continued talking and demonstrated so well everything he didn’t dare to interrupt her. Although by the end he knew the girl in front of him has just solved him the case. He was also a little embarrassed because some of his notes were not has good as hers.

“You just solved me a casa.” George said astonished with what had just happened, his mouth opened in surprise and the look y/n gave him was brilliant.

“Did I? Really?” She couldn’t hold her happiness, although working here for a while and helping, and having done so much, Fred usually referred that she had done much more than any other intern they’ve had, she hand’t actually solved a case by herself. Fred and her always came to conclusions together.

“Yes, yes you just did.” George couldn’t believe that the case he has been working on for the last week and a half, and that he was getting to a road with no end was just solved. When he decided to listen to the audios he didn’t expect much from them because he thought he had worked through everything. Well, he guessed wrong. “Do you have any idea what this case might’ve costed me hadn’t you just solved it?” George wondered out loud. She denied, not being able to form words. The way he was looking made her panties soak, which is a current occurrence because every time she see him even from a far he manages to do something to her.

“It would cost us millions of dollars and very bad fame. You see we are working with some of the most influential people England has. Winning is very important.” George said.

“I thought every person you worked with was influential and important?” It came out a genuine question.

“These people can manipulate everything around them, if they wanted to end mine and Fred’s career, they could with a snap of their fingers. Winning them this case on the contrary, will give us something in all out time working he never had in this scale.” He stated. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Well that was first, y/n never heard him say a ‘hi’ to her, and a ‘thank you’ to anyone else.

“You can go have your luch now, I’ve kept you here for… oh for a long time.” He said when he looked at the hours. Two o’clock was away past their lunch our. Fred hadn’t come knockinh why? They always had lunch together. “How about had as a thank you I offer you lunch?” What a bold fucking move George Weasley, what will people think if they see you out and about with your little intern ahm? ‘Fuck that’ George thought to himself.

“Is it appropriate?” way to ruin the opportunity y/n, she thought.

“Lunch as co-workers of course. Celebrating early the win.” He persuaded, now that he was all in, might as well convince her. When she nodded he continued. “Well have you ever tried the Italian on the main street?”

He meant the beautiful restaurant that looked straight out a movie? The one she’s been eyeing since she started working here, but the prices have kept her way because lord forbid her of spending fifty pounds on a fucking meal?

“I was thinking maybe something more on my price range?” She suggested, trying not to offend him, or look poor in front of him. She wasn’t and the money she received working for them was good but she started to pay for her stuff now, to relieve her parents of the bills and so money was always a little tight on her side.

“None sense, I will pay for us both. No one needs to know. Now come on, or we will eat our lunch when we’re suppose to be snacking” He was already getting up, got his jacket of the back of the chair in a swift motion and walked to the door.

No one was to be seen in the hall, which was weird given the hour of the day. Everyone came from lunch and this was the hour of chatting a little bit, drink a coffee or something else and going to the bathroom before resuming their work. Some forces where on their side because besides Iris, no one saw them leave together. And Iris was nice enough to keep everything to her.

The restaurant was to the brim. y/n thought they would have to wait hours or not even have a place. But the very nice employee at the front, as soon has he saw George swiftly pull them in and into one of the best tables they had.

“I’m a regular.” He justified, when they were seated and her eyes weren’t on him for once but instead on the menu.

“yes of course.” She wanted to had, and the most powerful man there is, but she kept that to her.

“If you have any doubts choosing I would suggest the chicken marsala.” Did he think, even though she had just solved his case, that she was dumb? The tone in his voice suggested everything but a suggestion. It was almost a command. What type of fifty shades was this? Although she did like the dominant side he radiated to her.

“Sure, I’ll have that.” And George gestured to the employee working around the tables on the place they were before starting their request. And while they waited they talked. In just few minutes he felt like he was Fred in there. Because y/n was talking openly and so freely that he couldn’t believe she was doing that to him.

It felt nice for her hear her talk like that, like she had no worries and that she felt safe in speaking to him like that. He also talked and y/n was surprised he even wanted to share something with him.

“I also lived in a flat while studying, me and Fred shared one I mean.” He corrected. “Two teenagers leaving alone in a apartment after coming from a big family? Sweet, we were in paradise.” When y/n laughed he had do contain the smile that was to appear on his face.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what two boys would do all alone.” Her tone was suggestive. George coughed a little trying to hide the smirk in his face. If she was trying to rile him up and get something out of him it was working.

“law if difficult, but we never studied they way some of our pears did. We partied, and people were impressed because they never expected the best parties to come from law students, yet, they did come from us. Took us a while after collage to build our reputation to what it is today, a lot of people didn’t take us seriously. Then Fred hit the jackpot with a giant case and things just grew from there. I had my big moment a few months later.”

Now that was all information y/n had no idea about. Fred never shared that with me.

“Fred shared a lot of things with me but never that. I’m shocked.” When George looked at her accusingly but in a joking manner she found herself correcting what she said. “I mean, it’s just… I’m sorry, but you both have this like dominant strong image around you that it’s hard to think you ever did party. There’s zero photos of you on the internet, all of your cases have closed doors. I mean? People create an image, even if not the correct one, about you.”

“You have a point there. You have very good points that I didn’t have any idea about. But then again Fred took you all to him so it’s hard to know anything.”

“Mr. Weasley just likes the way I work.” She felt the need to justify herself almost immediately.

George rolled his eyes a little. “Still, you are working for both of us and although Elias does a good job I found out only today how hard working you are.”

If he was trying to make her feel guilty or sometime of thing it wasn’t working.

“Well, Mr. Weasley, I never worked for you because first, today was the first time you actually felt the need to call me and only because it was urgent and Elias wasn’t there and because every time I try to ask you something, for Mr. Weasley’s work you always answer me shortly.” She stated. George lost words at that, but only for a brie moment.

The next words that came from George were fast and wouldn’t have made any sense if y/n didn’t have all her attention on the beautiful man in front of her.

“I don’t have you work for me because, “he stopped for a moment, thinking his brain might stop him there, but was wrong, “because it is wrong to fantasize about someone who works for you, someone who is your boss. Is it not?”

Her cheeks started to feel warm, and her body was next. She squeezed both hands together and crossed her legs tighter tightly, the warmth from earlies mixing with we warmth from now.

“It is profession to crush on your boss?” She wanted to come out like is words hadn’t just affected her, but it came out shyly instead. George’s breath came out uneven and he put both of his hand on top of the table and closed is hands into fists is knuckles turning white from the force. He breath very deeply, y/n watched his nostrils flare and his eyes turning a very dark shade.

“It is. But I guess we’re both bad at keeping things professional.” He wanted to ass more but their food arrived and he was forced to tidy up is posture and look like he wasn’t hard under his pants.

They ate in silence. And when they finished George paid for their food, and when they got up he put a hand on the end of her back, almost at the curve of her ass.

“We should keep things professional.” y/n got way from his touch and looked at him. “Wouldn’t want to loose my job because I wanted to fuck my boss no?” The smile she gave him made him know that wasn’t scared of what they had said at the table. And that if both of them found it hard to hide the sexual tension before, now that they were both made aware that it was returned, it would be even more difficult.

⚘

George ended up winning the case that same week. Fred had made Elias and y/n work very little that day and in their floor they did a small celebration party due to the fact that this was major win for them. Everyone wanted an interview with both of them, their phones hadn’t stopped ringing. Iris had to put it on hold so she could come celebrate with them since they had insisted. They were in the meeting room, and although they were known around, Elias and y/n stayed in a little corner, champagne in their small cups a little bit of cake in their hand. Elias had chocolate and y/n had red velvet.

“You know we are not alone in this room right?” Fred asked his brother, coming up next to him and bumping his shoulder. George looked at him questioningly. “You know other people will notice if you continue to look at her like you wanna rip her clothes of.” Fred joked and laughed when George mumbled angrily under his breath. He was regretting telling George what had happened at lunch and even more so telling him the crush he’s had on his intern since she started. Although Fred stated, and very well, that of the crush he already knew. If any of the thing either one or the other did that made him have his confirmations. It was small things Fred would notice. Like every time George came into his office and almost every time he had nothing of interest to say, he would find a stupid excuse that Fred was always to nice to snitch on him in front of her. Or how her looked lingered a little to much when she was in his presence, and how Fred had to call her name various times before she looked at him again.

How George only seem to need something from him in the hours y/n was in his office. How, if she wasn’t there, George would be caught red handed with nothing to say or do, because he just wanted to look at her.

“Shut up.” He said angrily. “Stop trying to make me do something irrational. It’s wrong. And we’re not in the right place to have that conversation.” He wanted this conversation to be the end of it, however Fred was not done.

“You know I don’t mid right? If things are done correctly I wouldn’t mind.” Fred looked at his brother. They were both tall, taller than almost everyone in the room, so they both had a good look over y/n and Elias at the end of the meeting room, close to the door.

“What is there to be done correctly? Haven’t you understand she works for us? And let me also tell you from what I’m seeing when her year long internship ends that the possibly of us hiring her is big?”

“If someone else doesn’t hire her first.” Fred said only to tease him. He was very much planning on hiring her, and planning on giver her a notice before the internship ended so they could assure her position in the firm.

“They won’t. We are the best of the best. And as you said before she had other opportunities but waited for ours. Do you think she would be stupid enough to say no?” George scoffed and then moved his head from side to side, his eyes still on the girl in green. She brought a suit today, she knew today was gonna be big and she had spoken briefly to George the other day and told him about it. She was gorgeous.

“Elias and her are alone in the corner, why don’t make yourself useful for once little brother and go talk to her. Oh look just faith speaking.” Fred said the last part when Elias was pushed to the side by one of his colleagues, a lawyer who was been working on a small case.

George composed himself the best he could and made his way to her passing some people who were congratulating him again, and wanted to talk but he had her on his mind.

“May I just say, you were very impressive today, Mr. Weasley.” She beat him to it, speaking first. George had invited y/n and Elias to watch firsthand, front row seats at court. She was very thankful for such a big opportunity, she hoped one day she would be where George was, and be has amazing has he was presenting all the facts and making everyone subdue to him and his ever brilliant knowledge.

“Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you y/n. You were brilliant, and I wish you could’ve been there. Be the one to defend.” He had his back turned to everyone in the room and since he was tall he covered y/n a little. He was lanky to she could still be seen.

“I think I will have many opportunities no? I mean working for your firm will give me a very good profile, and people will want me, that is, if you give good recommendations.”

“We could always skip the recommendations and hire you.” She looked at him her eyes big and shiny, having him say that made her heart beat a little faster. If she could work for them permanently and be a lawyer to them? Dream come true.

“That would be very nice, yes.” She tried to keep her cool, and then closed the distance between them, but trying to not make it to noticeable for other people not to see. Her mint scent hit his face and his teeth came to rest on his bottom lip, her closeness made him nervous. “Working for you permanently would be a challenge no?” she had her arms crossed, but uncrossed them to rest on hand on his arm and squeezed it. She was about to cross the biggest line there was.

“I could do so much more than working couldn’t I Mr. Weasley? I bet I would look good working on my knees, under your desk, only for you so see.” She spoke almost inaudible, only he could hear it and with the noise everyone was making he was sure they didn’t have a clue what she just said. To everyone else they were just chatting about his win.

George trembled and he had to put all his willpower into not doing something stupid. He had no words. And didn’t have time to say, Elias came up behind her and called her, and he lost all her attention. People had the nerve to always be interrupting them. She left, because they both had to work on something Elias needed help in, and y/n always ready to please, offered to.

⚘

After that, if they thought they had ever felt sexual tension, then they weren’t expecting to go through this. Fred couldn’t take George anymore, everyday in his office going on about how he needed to get laid. How lately he just felt like everything was building up and the work piling on his desk wasn’t helping.

“You should just go to y/n, I think she would be more than willing to help.” Fred hadn’t meant for his words to sound wrong and George understood where he was coming from. Fred felt y/n’s sexual tension before he even hit the floor at 8 am every morning. He even asked Angelina for some advice on how to try and make them understand that he was ok with them.

George wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. “You are no fucking help, ever. I might as well visit my ex.” He stated. In that moment y/n was knocking on the door, she was speaking before she was looking and knowing George was there. “Fred I brought you what you asked, and also some ideas for presents for Angelina.” She said, and finally looked up, every word she was gonna say next. She has just called him Fred in front of his brother. She would only say that if he was alone. Fred didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you so much y/n. My brother here was just leaving right George? Me and y/n have some things to do.” He looked at George who huffed and left without another word to y/n.

“Sexual tension still?” She questioned, bold question to make to anyone but her and Fred were more than co-workers, they were friends now and he didn’t mind.

“Yes. You two should meet up.” Came Fred’s voice sounding uninterested, and y/n rolled her eyes as she sat in front of him starting her work. Fred looked at her when she wasn’t looking and wanted to laugh at the annoyed and very frustrated face she had.

When five hit the clock Fred got up, after staring to organize his desk minutes before.

“I’m going, don’t wanna be late to my date with Angelina. You’re staying?”

“Yes, there’s still so much to be done and the lady hasn’t stopped calling Iris today asking for anything we might know. This is going to take while.” y/n stopped what she was doing for a moment to look at Fred. “Do you want me to leave? I can go to my desk or the meeting room?” The desk she barely used, it’s only use now being of support to her bag and computer.

“No, you can stay I trust you. Just please don’t stay up to late. Tomorrow we can give her something to occupy her mind.” She nodded, and said goodbye as he left and closed the door behind him.

y/n only got up two hours later to turn on the light in room because it was already dark, but her brain so focused on what she was doing that she didn’t think much of it.

“Fred are you seriously still working?” Came a sudden voice that scared her and made the pencil she held drop to the floor. “Shit sorry, y/n? Where’s Fred?”

“Mr. Weasley left sometime ago, a date with his girlfriend. He let me stay because I have to finish this.” She pointed to the papers in front of her and the proceeded to pick up the pencil. George came in and closed the door behind him. She had to prepare herself to bask in his presence, his knowledge and his extreme intelligence. y/n was not only fisically attracted to him, but also mentally. He was just so intelligent it was scary sometimes to work with him, even though she had helped him solve that case a sometime ago. It was still hard because she was afraid to make any wrong moves.

“Well I thought it was just him in here and was gonna tell him to drop his work and go home. It’s not him but it applies to you to. Besides I had to stay up late too, I’m the only one here and the security will want to close everything up in a short time. I bet if they had done their patrol already that you wouldn’t be here.”

“I will leave when they come here, but for now I have to really finish this.” She turned to her work again, trying to ignore his presence completely. He came closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Well I have nothing to do at home, I can help you with what’s left. Two heads are better than one.” He said. He pulled a chair from a corner and put it next to hers. She gave him some papers for him to analyze. “Surprising that Fred stayed with this case, i usually take care of financial stuff.” He said more to himself than anything but y/n heard.

“I think he only took it because I told him I like this type of cases and could help him. I’m doing most of the works, he’s working on the arguments and such.” She looked at George. Being the end of the day, he has his shirt unbuttoned, his tie was hanging from his left pocket of the jacket and he just had a tired look on him.

“Ah I see, stealing you all to himself.” y/n denied with her head. “Unfair, seen as he knows very well I’ve been meaning to talk to you since the party the other day. Or did you forget what you said?”

Shit, y/n wasn’t expecting him to act on it. But oh boy, how she was happy he did. Every dream she’s had since that day was of her on her knees sucking him of until he cums in her mouth. While he calls her little pet names and makes her stay with his cock in her mouth because it’s warm. And then in her dreams he would slap her ass, slap her little clit until she trembled and made her call him ‘daddy’. The name would come out shy at first and then when he was destroying her it would come out more strong and sure.

She swallowed hard and pressed her legs together.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He put his hand on her leg and pulled them apart, so her legs were separated and he looked at her sternly. “Keep him this way.” He demanded.

“I thought you were gonna help” she whispered, hand coming to rest on top of his and caressing his long fingers. Shit, they would hit every spot inside her so good.

“And I am, aren’t I? I’m attending to a more important and demanding matter.” His hand came up from her knee to her thigh and then leaned inside towards her core, he could feel all the heat radiating from there. She nodded and guided his hand to be right on top of her still clothed pussy.

“Please, help me.” She said sweetly and seductively, any doubts she had and concerns if the should even be doing this in the first place all melting away.

“Yeah? Want my help baby girl? Since you like to be so bossy and know it all, tell me, what do you want me to do?” George pressed his fingers, quickly finding her clit and letting the pressure there for a moment, a moan coming from her mouth.

“Undress me, and please touch my pussy. I’m so wet.” She pleaded.

“Then get up, come on now, be a good girl.” He sair almost impatiently, and saw her get up and fumble with the buttons of her jacket and then with the button of her pants. “Shit.” George was amazed how good she looked, the black panties and bra she had made her look even more delicious if that were possible. The panties were laced and so her wetness could be seen from them. “On the desk.” He instructed, and y/n without thinking did what he asked.

If Fred ever found out they had sex in his office he would never see the end of it and he might as well think about creating his own firm because… wow.

“I’m so wet.” She brought her hand to his hair and pulled on hit the groan that left George was brutal. “Please kiss it.”

George didn’t need to be told twice, he brought his lips to her covered pussy and kissed, although mixed with the fabric of her panties, he could very much taste her distinct, sweet, taste. He kissed it again, and again until she was restless enough to pull his head back her eyes a darker color.

“Take them of.” She order, George looked amazed at her commanding tone.

“be careful there little thing, might just stop here.” He had taken his hand to move her panties to the side exposing her engorged and redish clit, asking to touched. She mewled, her hand coming to rest on her belly and her fingers digging a little.

George took his mouth to her clit and sucked it gently, gaining from her the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He sucked again so have that reaction again, her legs came to rest on his back pulling him to her. She moaned his name.

“Sound so fucking good moaning for me princess, just love it so much.” He took the moment she was distracted to rip her panties open, she gasped.

“What the fuck George.” She looked at him incredulously.

He slapped her thigh and squished it. “Watch you language there or daddy might just leave you hanging.”

The fact that not only had he used the word ‘daddy’, the word she so dreamed of him calling, he had also called himself that. He couldn’t be real.

“No please.” Any dominance she might have tried complete disappeared at his words. Two of his fingers played with her wet hole while his mouth kissed the inside or her thigs, kissed just above her pussy, above where she wanted to be touched the most. Her eyes closed and one hand was behind her, to support her and the other still on her belly.

He entered the two fingers, slowly, looking at her, at the way her head fell back, his name fell out of her mouth, and the hand on her tummy came to push him agains her cunt. Non verbally stating where she wanted his mouth to go.

HE wasted no time attacking her clit with his tongue, his fingers moving slowly in and her out her allowing to fill her, to be close to her.

“Daddy, shit.” Her legs slid down his back almost to his butt, they were shaking a little.

“You just so good baby girl, so sweet, fuck, I’ve been imagining this ever since I saw you. How tight you would be, how sweet, how responsive to your daddy.” He moaned, he was so hard the zipper on his trousers opened a little. His free hand came to unbutton and in a very messy way he pulled his boxers down and freed his cock.

His cock was swollen, red, and we was leaking the stinky susbstance y/n wanted to taste. It came slapping to his belly, rock hard. He put his hand on it stroking slowly letting some moans slip out of his lips, which came shocking against her clit and she shook.

“Fuck. Are you touching yourself daddy?” She asked innocently, pulling some of the red hair that had fallen onto his face to have a better view of his wet swollen lips, from mounding at her pussy.

“I am baby, I am, you just, taste so good, feel so warm and squishy.” All the vibrations from his voice were crashing on her clit making her even more sensitive.

“I- I’ gonna cum, George, fuck.” She was so close, so so close, but he stopped, seized his movements at her pussy but his fingers still buried inside of her.

“You’re gonna come, with me deep inside that little pussy, yeah baby?” He asked, moving away from her. Pulling his fingers, she sighed happily, and took his hand as soon as it was out her. Bringing her face close to his hand and putting his fingers in her mouth, sucking feverishly on them.

George groaned, the hand on his cock pressing his tip and he felt like he could come there at sigh.

“I wanna suck you cock daddy, please.”

“Since my girl asked so nicely, I can’t say no.” Hearing him say ‘princess’ ‘my girl’ made her stomach feel with butterflies, and her heart skip a beat. Shit this crush was way out of hand.

She bounced of the desk, and pushed his chair a little, the wheels helping her do so. She came down to her knees, the view making George think the most sinful things.

Her hand took his out and put it in his thick thighs. Her mouth close to his where she left small wet kisses. Her hand started to stroke him, coming from the base all the way to the rudy red tip. She took the pre-cum that was coming out and used it had lubricant making the sensation so much more intense to him.

She opened his legs to fit in between them and looked up at him for a brief moment, her pussy pulsing around nothing wishing to be touched. He had his head back, both hands at his thighs kneading the flesh there. His mouth opened looking like his was gonna moan but no sound came out.

She understood them we was trying to control himself.

“Moan for me daddy, let me hear you. Let me know I’m making you feel good.” She squeezed his tip tightly and his hole body shook, a moan he couldn’t control of her name.

“You’re making me feel so good, shit, your hands are so small and can barely wrap around my thick shaft isn’t that right pretty princess? And why don’t you put that dirty mouth of your to work.” Her mouth came to meet his tip and engulfed it in her lips, sucking softly on it, her hands massaging the rest of his cock for now.

Her tongue playing with his tip and then she not so slowly took more of him into her mouth. Her hand resting on his balls and massaging them. And then coming up again twisting around the part of his cock she didn’t have in her mouth.

He put his hand on her hair, making a pony tail out it and helping her guiding her movements, even thought she didn’t need that, he just wanted to feel in control.

She breath in deepley and relaxes her throat and before he knew it she was taking him all of him in, hitting the back of her throat, gagging around him, her spit and his come dripping down the corners of her mouth.

“Sucking my cock so messily baby, but so fucking good- ah fuck” he cried out his legs feeling numb from all the pleasure. Her hand moving more vigorously on his balls. She pulled out slowly, her free hand not touching him, touching her needy clit.

“Come on, up you get.” He was out of breath, pulling her by her hair and instructing her silently to sit on the desk again. He got up, one hand spreading her thighs apart and the other stroking him, the color red spreading from his head all the way thru his length from the way he was feeling.

“Next time, daddy, I’ll suck your cock until you come. I won’t let you pull out.” y/n said, hands coming up to knead her breast thru her bra.

“Take that off, want you naked while you make a mess on my cock.” He smacked his cock on her clit the sudden touch making them both shudder. With trembling fingers she tried to pull open her bra, and with some difficulty she eventually managed.

George filled her up nice and slowly letting them both ride the high of feeling each other so closely. George feeling her up all the way, her pussy adjusting to his size. He was big, long and thick and y/n hadn’t had sex in a long time and no guy she was with was that big. George was way above average and she could feel it very well and would feel it even more the next day.

“Daddy shit.” Her feet met his ass and pulled him towards her, George wasn’t all in but her sudden movement made him do just that, fitting snugly in her pussy, brushing her sweet stop that made her spasm around him.

“You are just perfect all over aren’t you baby? So perfect and angelic but the dirtiest whore for your daddy.” His hand took the hair that still fell on his eyes and his other hand touched her clit and pressed it, sinful sounds coming from her, her clit touched and played with along with the pressure and size of George’s cock making her senses stop working and her loosing every train thought she had.

“I’m gonna love to play with this pussy.” He started moving his hips, taking his hand of her clit and taking both her legs in his hold. He bent her legs at the knee and close tho her chest the knew position made her scream. He hit her g-spot right there and then, and her legs became gelly.

“Found it baby, now touch you precious clit for me.” He instructed and she did has she was told, all the pleasure she felt becoming to much, her pussy was throbbing, her nipples were hard from all the pleasure and his cock inside her felt heavenly. He was so smooth, and heavy. She made rapid little motions on her clit while George sped up his movements his hips meeting hers ever, bottoming out with every thrust and touching every little part of her cunt.

When her legs started to quake powerfully in his hold he knew she was starting to get close. She had been teased and denied one orgasm, and she would do it again if he demanded, but the way her breasts moved with power of his hips and strokes, and how she clenched around him swallowing him holy he knew he would be mean to do that.

“You gotta ask for permission.” He slapped her hand way from her clit to pus his there, to control the pressure and the little up and down movement.

At first she couldn’t form words, her vision was going white, the shots of pleasure thru her body to much.

“P-please can I cum?” A gentle whimper came from her mouth as the waves of her orgasm become stronger.

“Yes baby, go ahead soke my cock.” His hand moved even quicker on her clit and that’s when they both felt it. Her orgasm rippling thru her, strong waves of pleasure felt all over her body, her legs quacking, her arms stretched out beside her, her pussy convulsing, her juices coating his cock deliciously.

“Squeezing me so tight baby, I’m gonna fucking come.” She puts her head in a way that she can look at him, all destroyed and proper fucked out. He doesn’t have time to warn her again before his climax comes crushing down on him. He almost looses his balance for a second, so strong that everything in his body paralyzes. He buries himself to the hilt in her pussy letting his cum shot deep in her and falls on top of her, his arms don’t give him much support but allow him not to crush her. He hides is face in her neck.

“We really did it ahm?” came her voice, sounding still a little afar since he was still recovering from his strong orgasm. He just nodded unable to form any word.

She waited a little, her hand gently brushing his back making goosebumps appear on his skin. The gentle and sweet gesture making his heart flutter.

“We did.” Came out after a while, finally regaining his posture and picking himself up, pulling out of her. The movement making them moan a little, the emptiness she felt felt weird. She was somehow already used to being full of him.

He pulled her by the arms so she could sit on the desk and not stay laying down.

“Does this change anything?” She asked shyly. He nodded.

“It does, because, I’ll be dammed if I don’t make you mine.” Intertwining their fingers he brought to his mouth to kiss. She smiled britlhy. “If you want me, that is.”

Her answer came in an attack of kisses all over his face and ending up in his mouth.

“We didn’t even kiss thru all that shit. And you kissed my cock.” He joked and she punched him gently on his chest.

“Watch your mouth. And also how we will explain to your brother this?”

“What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him.”

They got dressed, both of them taking their time because their bodies were still not at the maximum potential. A knock on the door startled them.

“Mr. Weasley are you still in there?” It was the guard. George made a gesture with his finger over his mouth for y/n to keep quiet.

“Yes Augustus, be out in a minute.” George said a little loudly and finished up getting dressed and waited for y/n to do the same, and then proceeded to organize the mess they made so Fred wouldn’t know about anything.

Opening the door Augustus was there waiting, a few feet from the door he smiled at George, did he knew it was George now that he could see him? Or did he still think it was Fred? Wouldn’t look good if he did, Fred is probably at home with his girlfriend.

“Augustus, my brother gave us some last minute work and we completely forgot the time. I’m so sorry.” George apologized. Augustus understood then is was not Fred. He only nodded, looked at y/n and also nodded and then watched them leave, their hands intertwined while he heard a little laugh coming from the girl.

⚘

Next day y/n came in at the same time as always, but neither Fred or George were to be seen. She sat at her desk and started to work on the things she should’ve done yesterday but got a little to busy to do so. Fred came in first.

“Good morning y/n. Already working on the case?” He asked bewildered, stopping in front of her desk. She nodded, now that she was seeing him, after what she had done in his office words were hard to come out her mouth. “Good, well when George comes in can you please tell him to come to my office? Iris is coming in later today so I can’t leave her that warning. You can also come in with them for us to work on the case.”

She nodded again, her words still not forming. About half an hour later came in George, way later than usual since he came in at the same time as Fred or a little after. When they made eye contact the smile he shared with her was so big and bright that made some of the nervous feeling she had subside. She had spent all night overthinking if that was a mistake, but by the looks of it wasn’t.

“Mr. Weasley your brother wishes to speak to you.” With some of the lawyers doors opened she had to address him like that.

“Thank you y/n, gonna put this in my office and then I’ll go right in.”

And when he came around she got up to follow him. Silently she spoke to him.

“he said to come in too, so we can work on the case.” She felt the need to justify herself.

“Ah yes, the case you should’ve worked on yesterday I am correct? Got a little to distracted no?” He put his hand on her back and pulled her to him. He kissed her lips gently. If her hands weren’t full she would’ve put his face between them. They were lucky that they in a part where no one could see.

“Ah fantastic that you both still know how to follow some orders.” Fred said, when he saw both of them enter his office. y/n swallowed hard, that sentence had a lot more meaning to it.

George tried to hide his smile, he thinks he might know what could come out of this, but how did he know?

“Next time you both decide to shag, which mind you I have nothing against, finally actually, do it at home, in George’s office somewhere… but please not my fucking office.” He looked at both of them trying to portrait himself as mad but failing terribly. A smirk resting on his lips.

y/n wanted to hide so badly, dig the biggest hole ever and burry herself there from how embarrassed she was.

“Hod do you know?” George asked incredosly, one thing they refused to have were cameras in their offices, it was a private place for them.

“Well my dears there’s a thing called a fucking phone.” He pointed to the phone he had on his desk, it was used to call around the firm, but Fred had his house number on there in case Angelina needed anything and couldn’t reach his personal phone. “Having my girlfriend pick up the phone, and come in the bedroom saying ‘someone is having sex on your office’ sure makes you both have a good impression. Lucky me I was at home with her when that happened.”

George looked at y/n who was feeling hot and embarrassed all over. Shit, it must have been her in the moments of pleasure she might’ve pushed some button. Fuck, shit.

“Just that. But finally you both decided to do it, I was done earing from one or the other just plain bullshit.” Fred rolled his eyes, continuing to write what he was doing. “Even Angelina was happy, not about the phone sex, about you two getting your shit together.”

y/n looked at George and took his hand in hers again.

“So are we together?” She asked him.

“Yes, but to make it official let me take you on a proper date. Today, sound good?” She nodded.

“Great you two, but please don’t let it end in office sex.” Came Fred’s voice again, making the three of them laugh.

#george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader #smut #angst #fluff #george weasley #george weasley smut

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