#actually had a pretty easy time with del | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reidslovely · 6 months

Text

If Your Love is in Trouble (Part One)

"If you're asking yourself, "How do you know?" Then that's your answer" Lana Del Rey, Margaret

Playlist here.

Authors Note: Yes, I am starting another series. Maybe I'll actually finish this one. This was born after playing Spider-Man 2, and I have no explanation for it, I just really wanted an excuse to write this. I know many people aren't into love triangles and that's cool. I still hope you guys read and enjoy because it will predominantly be Peter/Reader.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader x Harry Osborn

Content Warning: Slight mentions of suicidal ideation, couple swear words, pretty tame for the most part right now. Few mentions of a old hair color reader had.

Please reblog, and throw a comment in if you'd like!

“I can’t believe he’s really gone.” Peter muttered as he sat crisscrossed on the pillows scattered on his bedroom floor turning his best friend's game boy over in his hands. (Y/N) frowned at her friend, her cheeks stained red and swollen from crying, the insides of her cheeks sore from being bitten.

“I know..it’s not fair.”

She rested her head on Peter’s shoulder, her arms wrapping around his torso.

“Norman is fucking evil.” Peter mumbled out, a glance at his open door making sure May didn’t hear the swear fall from his lips. “..and a terrible father, he never deserved to have Harry. But that didn’t mean he had to ship him off. He could have lived here, May and Ben would have taken him in. That’s like their whole thing!”

(Y/N) listened, she knew the hurt Peter was feeling, but she also knew he knew how Harry was feeling. The three of them had been inseparable since they were six, did everything together and went everywhere. But now Harry has gone to some fancy boarding school in the English countryside, not knowing when they’d ever see him again.

“We still have each other.”

Peter laughed sadly, his hand engulfing hers a childlike smile on his face the blue color on his braces catching her eye. “Yeah. And I’m not letting you go anywhere.” Peter wrapped his arm around her neck, pulling her down ruffling her hair. (Y/N) screamed out, thrashing around laughing, trying to fight Peter off.

“Okay you two, okay. Dinner is ready c’mon.” Ben says from Peter’s doorway looking at the middle schoolers. Peter let go of the girl, holding his hand out for her to take helping her up. Ben stood back as the two bursted out of the door, racing one another down the stairs into the warmth of the kitchen. The smell of May’s cooking filling the homey kitchen, a news anchor talking excitedly on the small TV on the counter.

…

Though the kitchen hadn’t changed in those seven years it was no longer warm, it no longer felt like a second home. The same new anchor talked on the TV, his voice no longer excited but now aged and filled with professionalism. (Y/N) looked around the once familiar area, now feeling like a vampire who’d crossed the threshold uninvited. But she had been invited, May stood in front of her two mismatching coffee cups in hand.

“Take off your coat for a while.”

She coaxed, motioning at the spring jacket on her shoulders. (Y/N) smiled at May’s motherly nature, she hadn’t changed a bit since the last time she’d seen her. Her head had a few more grays on it, and she was wearing her reading glasses more but other than physical she was the same old May.

“I’m so glad I caught you walking, I was gonna call and have these sent to you but..I’ve been wanting to see you anyways.”

“I know May, I’ve missed you. Sorry, I just..I've been..so busy.”

May squinted her eyes, her crows feet becoming prominent. It was never an easy task to lie to May, she saw through everything.

“I bet.” But, she always let the lie continue. May sat at the bar stool, the small photo book in hand as she opened it. (Y/N) settled next to her drinking out of the homemade Spider-Man cup, looking at the first set of photos. Three kids smiled in front of a carousel of horses, two boys and a girl standing in the middle. (Y/N) smiled, her mind flashing to the blonde boy in the photo, thinking about the last time they’d talk. Her eyes followed their muscle memory and looked at the scrawny brunette boy in the photo, his head resting on hers as he held up a peace sign.

“Ben and I basically had to drag you three out of that park when that silly little carousel popped up. It was your favorite part.”

“We used to spend hours there. I used to steal money out of my dad’s wallet to get us rides for the whole week.”

May laughed, nodding her head. (Y/N) smiled at the memory of her thumb rubbing over the slightly aged photo, it felt like her heart shook with grief for what they once were.

“Now this..this is my favorite.”

May held up a photo of two ghosts.

One clad in an awkward fitting sports coat and slacks, the other in a deep blue dress and poorly dyed red hair. In Peter’s scratchy handwriting ‘Junior year winter formal’ was written on the back. (Y/N) swallowed harshly, but smiled at the image.

“You two looked so cute. Your red hair really was something.”

“Mhm, I forgot the last time you saw me I was still a redhead!” (Y/N) hummed softly, sliding the photo back into its slot in the photo album. May hummed, putting her hand against her cheek.

“When was the last time?”

“It was ..I dunno, senior year we just got on christmas break, I had come by because I hadn’t heard from Peter in a couple weeks and I was worried. He’d gone upstate with Gwen’s family, and you gave me that knitted scarf and beanie set.”

“Oh that’s right!” May smiled, grabbing onto (Y/N)’s forearm. “Have you two talked at all?”

(Y/N) laughed awkwardly, her hand coming up to push her hair out of her face. She shook her head rapidly. “No, I'm pretty much on the outskirts of his life now. I think we both go out of the way to avoid one another.”

May shook her head, her nephew's behavior never failing to amaze her. “Whatever happened, have you two tried to fix it?”

“I dunno May, we just…grew apart. He had Gwen, photography and science club…and his other extra activities.” (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders, her hand patting May’s that rested on her forearm. “We grew up I guess.”

May looked at her and it felt like she saw right through her, saw her heart and how Peter had smashed it into a million pieces. (Y/N) pulled her arm gently from May grabbing the coffee cup and taking a long sip. “Oh my god! Is this you and Ben?” It was a quick and easy subject change that May would allow.

The front door opened and May turned her head. “Peter, why don’t you come into the kitchen? I have something I want to show you. I finally pulled those photos down from the attic!”

(Y/N) looked around the kitchen like an animal being caged in, she looked for a quick escape but she could never move that quietly. So she settled with tucking her face away behind May’s figure and maybe if she willed enough she’d turn invisible.

Peter's footsteps turned into a quick jog throughout the house. “May why would you..I told you I’d..” Suddenly all sound stopped. Time felt like it’d stopped with it.

Peter had grown a couple inches since the last time they’d seen one another, she thought he’d looked taller in his birthday post on instagram but maybe she’d just started forgetting what he looked like. He’d finally cut his hair, and started dressing in more fitting clothes. He had become a full adult in the time they’d been apart, it felt like just yesterday they were eighteen year olds hanging out at the skatepark.

“Hey.” He spoke softly, shock in his voice.

“I caught her walking home- thought she’d like a trip down memory lane.”

“Hey Pete.” (Y/N) spoke finally, her eyes following him as he walked to the fridge grabbing out the creamer and making his own cup of coffee. May had opened her mouth to speak before being cut off by the house phone. May grabbed (Y/N)’s shoulder as she stood.

“I’ll be right back.”

Silence, that was once comfortable and knowing, filled the room awkwardly. (Y/N)’s eyes locked to Peter’s back watching his movements.

“Happy belated birthday.”

Peter turned to look at her after the words left his mouth. She could laugh, at least he remembered one thing.

“Yeah, yeah you too. We’re twenty, pretty odd huh?’

“Yeah..I feel like I’ve lived six times that.”

(Y/N) nodded awkwardly, dropping her eyes from him and looking at the winter formal photo in her hands. Her phone vibrating from the counter, both of their eyes immediately looking at it.

‘Harry - Hey, sorry we got cut short last night’

‘Harry - I’m actually grabbing a flight right now, I should be there tomorrow afternoon.’

She clicked the power button flipping it over. “How’s huh Gwen?”

Peter nodded and leaned on the counter, his finger tapping a couple of the scattered photos. “Uh..well. Good, I think. We..broke up.” He spoke quickly, rolling his hand in a circle motion as he spoke. He looked up at her, for what felt like the first time in forever. She nodded, a frown on her lips.

“I’m..really sorry to hear that Pete. I thought for sure you guys would..be together forever.”

“Yeah me too..” He slumped his shoulders and shook his head. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, it came out more bitter than she intended. Peter nodded, his lips pulling down at the notion. Maybe he knew he owed her a slew of apologies, maybe he was oblivious. She’d rather he be the latter. Clearing her throat she slipped out of the bar stool, grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair.

“I should go. I have an assignment due at six I should get started on.”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Peter sniffled, his thumb rubbing against his nose. He pressed his fists into the countertop, his fingers popping as he did so. “Let me walk you home.” He offered up, rushing to get his coat from the living room. (Y/N) panicked, her mind moving at a million miles a second. Her brain refuses to process any type of response other than a small yes that she doesn’t even think he heard.

Taking the couple seconds alone she had she messaged Harry back: ‘So excited to see you! Miss your face :)’

“Ready?” Peter asked, he returned with a denim jacket on his shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets. (Y/N) pocketed her phone nodding at him, Peter reached around her holding the back door open for her as they stepped out into the slight chill of the spring weather. The two rounded the side of the house heading down the block. Peter fell into his previous routine, he always took the side of the sidewalk closest to the road, keeping (Y/N) on his inside. She smiled at him, dropping her gaze to her feet.

“I’ve been a terrible friend.”

It wasn’t what she expected to fill the silence. Her mouth fell open, before closing again quickly trying to think of a response.

“I like..totally left you hanging and I just..I’m really sorry that was so fucked up. There was just.” Peters fumbling through his words, it’s not an apology, but she’ll take it.

“Hey Pete, it’s all good. We were kids, and hey what can you do it happened. I played a part in it too. We had a lot going on.”

“You were always trying to excuse my bad behavior, I was a bad friend. I can admit that now, I should have admitted that two years ago.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, a laugh falling out of her lips, her hand coming up to wave it off.

“We were hormonal teenagers Peter, and that got in the way. I’m not mad, I missed you a lot. But maybe it was what we needed to grow.”

“I know but I should have said something. I left you on a fucking rooftop, I..”

“I love you Peter, and I just need to know if you love me.” She screamed over the flow of the traffic below them. Sirens sounding off in the background felt like she was being laughed at by everyone. Peter’s face was numb, filled with shock as he held his mask in one hand, his bruised eyes searching her face. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to think.”

“I don’t..I don’t know. I dunno, either.”

He shook his head, the sound of the city around him felt like an icepick being stabbed into the back of skull. (Y/N) took a step back, wind blowing against her face whipping the dyed red hair around across her face. She turned and looked over the edge, before looking at him. Jumping from the 20th something floor felt like a better option than hearing whatever Peter had to say.

“I just..is there a chance or is this all for..nothing? Am I holding out for nothing?”

The sirens got louder, and Peter looked between the red head and the flashing sirens below them.

“I’m sorry, we can talk later!” Peter swore as he slid the mask on his face, in a flash he’d thrown

himself over the side of the building a flash of red swinging off into the sky.

The memory crawled into the forefront of her mind and for once it didn’t make her want to claw herself out of her skin. Peter’s hand had creeped out of his jacket pocket and into hers, his hand interlocking with hers. (Y/N)’s lips pulled down in a bittersweet smile, her thumb rubbing across his. For a moment she’s convinced herself nothing changed, for a moment she’s in school sneaking kisses with Peter in the darkroom of the photography club. Waiting for him by his locker ready to trade lunches for the day with silly notes written on the inside.

“It hasn’t changed a bit.”

Peter laughed as they reached the front stoop of her home, his hand still in hers. It was comforting, both having a sneaking feeling of home that they hadn’t felt in almost two years. However, the moment died quickly. Peter let go of her hand, stepping in front of her slightly as he looked around. (Y/N) furrowed her brow as she opened her mouth to talk, the scrapping of a chair drew her attention to the corner of the porch, a figure standing up.

“Mhm that’s what I said. I gotta say though I don’t remember the glass in the window being pink”

The deep voice drew the friend's head towards the sound, (Y/N)’s jaw dropping as she grabbed a tense Peter’s shoulder.

“Harry!”

They both yelled. The sandy blond started down the steps, (Y/N) took off meeting him half way engulfing him in a hug. Peter stood back in shock, looking at his lost friend as if a ghost had just crawled out of its grave in front of him. A small vibration of alert hanging in the back of his skull as the two embrace.

Taglist: @moonyslove78 @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @tarzinnia @a-lumos-in-the-nox @adhdhufflepuff @messymissy @hollandweather @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @eevylynn @ateliefloresdaprimavera @someblessedmonster

167 notes · View notes

muzaktomyears · 3 months

Text

messages from Paul McCartney and Yoko Ono on the 40th anniversary in 1997 of the Woolton church fête where John and Paul first met

John, Paul & Me Before the Beatles: The True Story of the Very Early Days, Len Garry (2014)

text under the cut

A MESSAGE TO WOOLTON FROM PAUL MCCARTNEY

Ah yes, I remember it well.

I do, actually. My memory of meeting John for the first time is very clear. My mate Ivan Vaughn took me along to Woolton here and there were The Quarry Men, playing on a little platform.

I can still see John now - checked shirt and slightly curly hair, singing Come Go With Me by The Del Vikings. He didn't know all the words, so he was putting in stuff about penitentiaries - and making a good job of it.

I remember thinking 'He looks good - I wouldn't mind being in a group with him'.

A bit later on we met up; I played him Twenty Flight Rock and he seemed pretty impressed - maybe because I did know all the words.

Then, as you know, he asked me to join the group, and so began our trip together. We wrote our first songs together, we grew up together and we lived our lives together.

And when we'd do it together, something special would happen. There'd be that little magic spark.

I still remember his beery old breath when I met him here that day. But I soon came to love that beery old breath. And I loved John. I always was and still am a great fan of John's. We had a lot of fun together and I treasure all those beautiful memories.

So I sent you all in Woolton and Liddipool my best wishes today.

And thanks for remembering - there's no way that when we met here we had any idea of what we'd be starting. But I'm very proud of what we did. And I'm very glad that I did it with John.

I hope you all have a wonderful day and God bless all who sail in you.

PAUL MCCARTNEY

MESSAGE FROM YOKO ONO

What a sweet celebration!

Yes, the meeting of John and Paul was an important event not only for those of us who loved their songs, but for the whole world which went through a social change for the better as a result of their words and music.

John's first thought as Paul showed him what he could do was: "Okay - this guy is good and already the girls are flocking around him - not around me! So if I let him in, he'd going to be a tough one to handle - but I'll have a strong band."

So John took Paul in. I think this story is important in that it shows as a creator and a leader of the band, John went for getting a strong band rather than having an easy time. And John was only a teenager. What a brain! What a guy!

By the way, it's interesting that the meeting took place at a church. Also, the main bulk of their songs were recorded in Abbey Road Studios, in London. Am I the only one who thinks of these coincidences as interesting?

John and Paul were traveling minstrels, who spread the word of love throughout the world. Through their songs, they brought the energy of love to the then gray world, which was still coping with the aftermath of the second world war.

With their words and music, John and Paul showed the world that law and order was not necessarily the most important force in the world. Love was the power and the energy that could change the world. And it did.

But it all started at the Woolton Fete forty years ago. As you celebrate this day, the world joins you in your celebration. Those who cannot come physically to Liverpool join you in spirit. It's a nice day to celebrate and I thank you for doing it. Peace.

#'and when we'd do it together something special would happen'#'he's going to be a tough one to handle'#'so john took paul in'#paul mccartney #yoko ono #john lennon #there's also messages from the queen and tony blair ghjskdhgdksl

99 notes · View notes

beneathstarryskies · 1 month

Text

Word Count: 4k (and some change)

Summary: Reno is forced to go on vacation after getting pretty beat up on a mission. He takes advantage of his time off to visit the Honeybee Inn, where he becomes enamored by one of the waitresses.

Warnings: fem!reader, shinra counts as a warning, mentions of sex work (more implied than explicit i think), alcohol, kissing, over all pretty tame

A/N: This is part one! I know for sure there will be a second part, but I'm not sure if there will be more than two parts yet. I didn't even anticipate it being two parts, but it just kept getting longer!

Reno heard whispers about the Honeybee Inn for as long as he could remember. Especially once he started working for Shinra. Even the most button-down workers couldn’t resist heading down to Sector 6 to check out the shows.

“It’s the perfect place for a guy to unwind,” he’d heard some middle manager say in the cafeteria one day.

Pft. As if Turks have time for that kind of fun.

His luck changed when he found himself a little beat up after a mission, and Tseng had ordered him to take a vacation. There were many things for a young, scrappy guy like Reno to get into. He tossed around the option of heading to Costa Del Sol to hang out with the cute girls on the beach, or maybe even going to the Golden Saucer for some flashy fun. Then, he remembered the excited whispers surrounding the Honeybee Inn. He’d heard it can be hard to get into, but he was confident he could throw his status as a Turk around to get in, at least for a show. If it sucked, he figures he’d still have time to actually do something fun on his vacation.

After a couple of days of mostly sleeping and ordering takeout, he headed down to Wall Market to see what all the fuss was about. He’d been here a few times for some missions, but he’d never been afforded the luxury of leisure time down there.

There’s a crowd around the door, people trying to buy tickets or even just get a peek inside. Reno wonders if it’s truly that big of a deal or if people are just buying into the hype. He’s seen firsthand how easy it is for the masses to be swallowed up by something wrapped in shiny drapings and presented with the right flair. Hell, Shinra’s success depended on people succumbing to a bit of dazzle…Enough so that they’ll look the other way from the atrocities committed by the company.

Now isn’t the time to get moral.

He pushes those thoughts aside and shoves through the crowd. He finds himself stopped by a security guard. If the guy up front wearing a bowtie with no shirt and an antenna headband could be called that. Reno was pretty sure he could take him in a fight, but he had to remind himself to calm down.

“Come on, you wouldn’t say no to Shinra,” he says to the guard with a sly grin as he flashes his badge. The guard's eyes go wide and he swallows hard before moving aside.

“Right this way sir,” the guard says and points him in the direction of the front desk. Reno is confident as he glides across the pristinely waxed floors to the desk. He leans on the desk and flashes a charming grin to the girl wearing a honeybee uniform.

“One ticket to the show, please,” he says.

“I’m sorry sir, we’re all full for the evening and…”

“Uh, maybe we should talk to Andrea,” the guard butts in, and gives the girl a glance trying to indicate that Reno is someone who should get a ticket.

“Andrea is getting ready for the show,” the girl persists.

“I’m sure he’ll want to know who is here.”

Reno realizes they think he’s here on business. It’s a little annoying that everyone assumes that just because he’s a Turk, but he also sees the benefit to it in this situation. The ticket girl nods slowly as the guard leans over to whisper something in her ear.

“I’ll be right back, sir,” she says to Reno before going through a curtain.

Reno looks around the lobby a little bit and peaks through the doors leading into the main bar. He sees the stage, vacant right now except for a couple of Honeybees practicing their steps for the performance tonight. He sees one girl wiping off tables. Her smile is bright and infectious when one of the girls on stage asks her what she thinks of their moves. He doesn’t have time to watch much longer before the ticket girl comes downstairs again.

“Sir, follow me, please,” she says sweetly.

Reno follows her upstairs. There are a few rooms closed off with ‘Do Not Disturb’ signs on the door. He imagined the illicit activities going on inside but did his best to seem disinterested. Then, she leads him up another flight of stairs into an opulently decorated dressing room. Some of the girls are gathered around getting ready, adjusting their costumes and applying makeup. A few of them coo at him flirtatiously, but before he can really enjoy the attention the ticket girl is leading him into a room off to the side with the nameplate “Andrea” on the door.

She opens the door and ushers him inside. A man sits at a vanity, applying eyeliner meticulously.

“Have a seat, Mr. Sinclair,” the man says. “I’ll be with you after I’ve made myself beautiful…Or should I say, more beautiful?”

“Lookin’ pretty good to me,” Reno says with a cheeky grin before sitting down on the chaise lounge.

“Ah, flattery. I didn’t know Turks carried that in their arsenal,” the man chuckles, then turns around in his chair. “I’m Andrea Rhodea, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

“Yeah, I had a hint or two,” Reno confirms. “I’m Reno Sinclair, but I’m sure you knew that too.”

“Mhm,” Andrea stands up and pulls on his waistcoat. “So, what does Turk want here?”

“Nothing crazy. Just enjoying my vacation,” Reno shrugs.

“I didn’t know Turks got those.”

“Well, we don’t often. So you can see why I’d want to make the best of it.”

“And the Honeybee Inn certainly is making the best of it,” Andrea boasts as he walks over to Reno. “You can sit in the VIP section. It has the best view, and is by invite only.”

“And what do get from inviting me?”

“Maybe a favor, if I ever need it,” Andrea smirks. Then, he snaps his fingers. A Honeybee runs in, the same one with the pretty smile he saw earlier.

You smile up at Reno, “I’ll show you to your seat sir.”

Reno’s smile widens, “Please do.”

As you grab his arm, he feels his cheeks heat up a bit and he follows you obediently as you lead him out of Andrea’s dressing room. He keeps looking down at you, trying to figure you out. You seem so sweet and innocent, yet you work in a place like this.

There’s no tragic backstory for how you ended up at the Honeybee Inn. However, sometimes you weave sad tales to interested customers to get better tips. You grew up in the Sector 5 slums, and had a relatively nice childhood despite living in poverty. The big dream was Loveless.

Oh, how you longed to take the stage in a role within that masterpiece.

But living costs gil, and one of the best ways to earn it in your opinion was at the Honeybee Inn. Andrea was a pretty kind boss compared to some other jobs you’d worked around the slums to save up for the move topside. If you fluttered your eyelashes and flirted just right, the people that came in here were willing to tip pretty nicely. Some of the girls were ambitious enough to offer further entertainment in one of the private rooms. While you respected their drive and ingenuity, you weren’t brave enough to go that far.

As you guide Reno to the table at the very front, you put on your best carefree vibe. You have him sit down at the table and he leans back as you sit beside him. You caress his chest playfully.

“The VIP section comes with your choice of a personal attendant for the evening, Mr. Sinclair,” you say sweetly.

“Just call me Reno,” he blushes and bites his lip. “And uh…Are you one of the options, pretty girl?”

“As it turns out I am!” you say cheerfully and lean closer. “Would you like for me to tend to you for the evening?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that a lot.”

——

Despite his effort to play it cool, you can see a little nervousness in him. He’s different from most guys you’ve tended to in the VIP section. He likes the attention, but he’s not pushy about it. He’s not being as much of a pervert as most guys, even though his eyes do stay pretty well focused on your fishnet-clad legs.

“Then, I’m all yours for the evening, Reno!” you say sweetly and lean against him. “Should I get you a drink?”

“Yes please,” he purrs and watches as you stand up. His eyes are fixed on the graceful sway of your hips as you walk to the bar to get him a drink. He notices you don’t ask what he wants, but he trusts you to order something good.

You talk to the bartender and one of the other girls comes up to you.

“Got a VIP tonight?” she asks as she orders herself a shot to unwind before the show begins. Already people are starting to file in, and Honeybees are buzzing around to keep them entertained.

“Yeah, he seems nice actually. I think it’ll be an easy night,” you smile.

“Be careful, I heard he’s a Turk,” she whispers.

“Oh?” you raise your brow.

“Yeah, but I mean it just means he can afford to tip well,” she says before downing her shot.

You watch her saunter away to deal with some of her tables. Before you have a chance to ruminate on what she’s said, your drink is placed on the bar. You try to shift back into work mode as you grab the drink. Reno’s eyes meet yours as he watches you come back, trying to play off the fact that he’d been staring at your ass while you were bent over the bar. You flash him a flirty smile as you slide into the booth beside him and set the drink on the table. You know this costume does wonders for your curves. It’s often been one of your greatest assets at this job, but has also been the cause of many issues too when creeps thought just because you were wearing the uniform that your body was for sale too.

“So, how are you enjoying your visit?” you ask as you lean against his side.

“It’s…Enticing, I suppose,” he smirks at you.

Deep down, Reno finds the whole thing a little bit frivolous. Wall Market in general rubbed him the wrong way. This place was thriving with gil made off the backs of those in the surrounding sectors trying to escape the sadness and mundanity of their lives. Then, of course, he had to remind himself of his place in the world. Shinra was worse by far, and he was another cog in their machine.

“Don’t worry, it gets better when the show starts,” you say and snuggle against his chest.

Deep down you both know you’re buttering him up for a good tip, but Reno can’t help thinking how good it feels to have someone’s warmth against him. He almost feels like a shy teen when he drapes his arm around your shoulder. You keep him busy with light conversation, teasing him a little for how important he looks in his suit.

Finally, the music starts playing. You sit up and clap your hands excitedly as you draw his attention to the stage. As the girl’s start dancing, preparing to introduce Andrea, he watches for just a bit before his eyes are back on you. The way your eyes light up and your body sways to the music he realizes how badly you want to be onstage. Your feet instinctively tap along with the steps of the dances being performed.

You really come alive when the cue comes for you to jump on the table. As you do, Reno’s eyes are glued to you. He watches your body move to the music, but more than anything he notices how your eyes are lit up with pure happiness. When this portion of the performance ends, you sit back down beside him. You lean against his side and hold his hand as Andrea make his entrance and steals the show. Reno isn’t even intrested in what’s going on. He’s just completely enamored with you. For the first time in so long he wants to get to know someone, and maybe to be known in return.

The music slowly comes to an end as the dancers perform their final steps and then take a bow. The curtain comes down, then rises a few minutes later to the house band playing atmospheric music.

“Well, I suppose that’s that,” you say softly and kiss his cheek.

“Can I walk you home?” he asks hopefully.

“I’ve got to help clean up,” you explain as other honeybees start dutifully cleaning tables and sweeping the floors.

“I can wait,” he insists. “I’ve got all the time in the world!”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a jiff!” you smile before bouncing away from him. When you return, you’ve changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The difference to him is astounding. You look like one of those cute college girls he sees sometimes in the city. Innocent and sweet and eyes full of hope.

You help clean up the rest of the tables before going to the bar to collect your tips for the night. He fishes some gil out of his pocket and doesn’t even bother to count it. He just hands it over to you as soon as you’re close to him.

“Oh! Reno, this is way too much!”

“No it isn’t,” he chuckles as he stands up. “It’s not enough.”

He reaches down to take your hand as he leads you out of the inn. You’re still arguing about the tip he gave you until you head out the door, and then you go quiet mostly out of the necessity of your surroundings.

“I’m this way,” you lead him toward the shabby apartment building you call home.

For a while, the two of you stand outside talking. It’s just innocent conversation, trying to get to know one another better. He holds some back due to his job but tries to impress you with some hints that he sees a lot of adventure. Throughout the conversation, you feel him getting closer to you. His eyes dart to your lips, wondering if they taste as sweet and juicy as they look. He stops himself from kissing you because he’s unsure how you’d feel about him doing such a thing. He has a fear that maybe even now you’re just humoring him since he’d been so nice to you tonight.

“Well, I better get some sleep,” you say sadly. Reno nods weakly.

“Yeah, I gotta head home too.”

You both hesitate for a moment before you finally take the plunge. You stand up on your tiptoes and kiss him quickly. It’s nothing more than a little peck on the lips, but it’s enough to make Reno feel tingly all over. His mind spins just enough for him to bravely lean back in for another, deeper kiss. You’re both blushing when he pulls away again.

“Do you think maybe I could see you again?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck to appear nonchalant.

“You know where to find me,” you giggle before kissing his cheek. “Good night, Reno.”

“G’night,” he says dreamily as he watches you unlock the door and slip into your apartment. He stares at the door for a moment before shaking off the sudden coldness of the night that didn’t seem so present before.

——

“Go on a trip or something,” Rude says over the phone.

Reno is pacing his apartment, trying to work off his anxious energy. He can hear the humming of a helicopter on the other line, and he knows Rude is on his way somewhere exciting even as they speak. His body tingles with anticipation, but he knows there’s not a target for it.

“Goin’ on a trip alone is boring,” Reno groans. “Why can’t I just come back to work?”

“Because Tseng says so,” Rude reminds him.

“Maybe I could talk to Rufus?”

“And have Tseng set you on paperwork duty for a month as punishment?”

“Fuck,” Reno growls. “You’re right.”

“Why don’t you head to Costa Del Sol? You love all the girls in bikinis!”

“Hmph, that’s true…But…”

He doesn’t know how to express it to Rude. It sounds crazy even in his own mind. The longing that he’d locked away for so long suddenly came rushing back the second you’d pressed your glossy lips to his. He can still taste the cherry flavor of your lip gloss, and the smell tickles his nostrils. The next day he’d had to resist the urge to run right back to your apartment.

“But?” Rude pulls him from his thoughts.

“I dunno, I guess I just don’t want to be alone.”

Rude is taken aback by Reno’s sudden vulnerablity. He knew it was there, but Reno hid it well. To hear him express the feelings was surprising even after all their time working together.

“Listen, buddy, I—” Rude breaks out. “Oh shit, I gotta go.”

Reno doesn’t even get to say goodbye the call cuts out. He continues pacing long after he’s tossed his phone to the side, and then he gets an idea. He checks the time and realizes he can probably catch you before your shift starts. He throws his suit on even more sloppily than usual before running out of the apartment. On the way, he makes all of the arrangements over the phone to get the two of you to Costa Del Sol, including borrowing a helicopter so the two of you could avoid all the ferry travel.

——

He’s running up the stairs to your apartment, taking two at a time, just as you’re coming out the door. You’re still dressed casually, but your makeup and hair is all done up for work. He practically throws himself at you, grabbing your hands as he catches his breath.

“Come to Costa Del Sol with me!” he practically yells.

“Uh, is that a question or a demand?” you chuckle softly.

“A request?” he tries, and seeing your frown he put on his puppy dog eyes. “A plea?”

“Reno, I can’t just drift away to Costa Del Sol. I don’t have any money, I have to work…I just—”

“I’ll pay you!”

“Reno!” you gasp.

“No, no! Not like that!” he waves his hands in front of his chest. “No, I just meant like…Don’t worry about the money! I’m paying for the trip, I’ll help pay your bills if you need me to because I know this is crazy.”

“But we just met. I don’t understand.”

Reno sighs and places his hands on your shoulders, “I know, I know. But I like you a lot, and it’s been so long since I met anyone like you.”

“So you just want to scoop me away on a vacation?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “I just don’t want to go alone, and I want to get to know you better. I’m scared I won’t get the chance if I wait.”

“Okay,” you concede. “But I swear if this is some horrible trick!”

“It’s not! I promise! I’ll even book separate rooms if you want!”

——

It’s a whirlwind, but you shouldn’t be surprised considering how he’d arrived at your apartment. After packing a suitcase and calling a surprisingly understanding Andrea to tell him the news, you’re whisked away top side. You could’ve spent the whole day just staring at the immaculately designed city. You find yourself fascinated by seeing how the other half lives, but Reno doesn’t give you much time to take it all in.

“There’s better to come, I promise,” he tells you as he guides you to Shinra HQ.

You’ve never felt so out of place in your life as you did walking on those pristine waxed floors. Reno keeps his hand protectively on your lower back as you make your way up to the helipad. He wants to sign out one of the helicopters so he can fly you there, but the worker kindly informs him he can’t do that since he’s off-duty. Instead, he’ll have to let a pilot fly the two of you there. He considers making a fuss and calling Tseng or Rufus for clearance, but seeing you holding his hand excitedly he doesn’t want to ruin the day.

“Alright, alright, we’ll wait,” he concedes. He guides you to the nearby lounge to wait for a pilot to become available.

“So, you work here?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You must be pretty high up on the totem pole to be able to use a helicopter.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, but I do have some perks.”

The way you’re looking at him with such awe in your eyes makes him worried about what you’d think if he told you the truth. Almost everyone is scared at the mention of his job title because of all the secrets Turks know and their reputation for doing things a little more brutally than the average soldier is allowed. Instead, he distracts you with flirty comments and a kiss on your cheek. At one point President Shinra himself comes to the lounge for a drink, and you’re shaking from the nerves because he must know you don’t belong here. Instead, the President nods curtly before leaving the lounge.

“Wow…I thought he’d be…”

“Taller?” Reno jokes.

“I mean I was going to say more handsome,” you giggle. “All of the photos and TV appearances…”

“They’re doctored,” Reno shrugs. “Don’t tell anyone though.”

“My lips are sealed,” you giggle.

Somehow it feels like it takes simultaneously forever and an instant before you arrive at Costa Del Sol. The sun is bright and you’ve never seen such a blue sky before. The harsh metal of the plates was the only sky you’d ever seen before this day.

“Wow! It’s beautiful!” you gasp as you look around. Many people are hovering about, enjoying their vacations. The waves crash on the shore as the smell of sea salt fills the air.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” he smiles, enjoying your reaction more than the sight of Costa Del Sol itself.

“Come on, we can head to the hotel first and then check out whatever you want,” he promises before getting your suitcase from you. The two of you head towards the fanciest hotel.

Once inside, he approaches the desk and true to his earlier word he requests two rooms.

“Oh, I apologize sir, but we only have one room available at this time,” the desk attendant says as he looks over his computer monitor. Reno looks at you shyly.

“Want to try somewhere else?” he asks. “Or I can sleep on the sofa?”

“There is a pull-out sofa bed available in the room, and it’s quite cozy!”

You consider your options for a moment, then you kiss Reno’s cheek softly.

“I think one room will do just fine.”

Reno is surprised by your answer but feels a warm rush of excitement in the pit of his stomach. He confirms you’ll take the room available. He tells you to go ahead and check things out while he signs the paperwork. Mostly just so you don’t hear the price of the room. Someone comes to get your bags and begins leading you towards the room. You skip along happily, obviously having the time of your life.

“First couple vacation?” the desk attendant asks as he helps Reno through the paperwork.

“Oh…Uh, yeah.”

“I hope you have a pleasant time. Payment will be due at check-out.”

“Thanks, man.”

Reno takes the keys and trails along to where you’d disappeared to moments before. When he enters the room, he finds you scurrying about checking out every last detail of the room.

“This is amazing,” you gasp as you skip over to the window and look outside at the ocean view.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” he smiles as he sets his bag down on the floor. “So, what should we do first?”

#reno sinclair x reader #reno x reader #reno ff7 x reader #ff7 fanfiction #ff7 x reader #🌟written in the stars

86 notes · View notes

senorabond · 6 months

Text

Rumor Has It (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

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

Chapter 1 Summary: You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left.

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

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex and masturbation (f), previous sexual relationship, office romance, references to gossip and slut shaming, sexist/patriarchal bullshit, daydreaming about "little Peña"

Reader/Character Notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

a/n: I started writing this thinking it'd be a quick and dirty PWP, but then the plot took over and I'm not sorry. Time/setting is pretty loose. This wasn't "officially" beta'd - all errors and weird formatting are my own. However, a very special thanks and kisses for @azure-waves and @kilamonster for reading early versions of this! 😘 Additional author's notes at the end.

Masterlist

Rumor Has It: Chapter One

Javier Peña thinks he’s hot shit. He struts about the office like he runs the place and conducts briefings like he's holding his own personal court. It'd be easier to chalk it up to pure ego and ignore him if he didn't actually have such an impressive resume to back it up. Unfortunately, that means putting up with yet another cocksure male flirting and fucking his way through the office your respective agencies share. At least he's easy on the eyes.

Since moving to Houston six months ago for a new position with the U.S. Customs and Border Protection, you'd clocked at least four broken hearts in Agent Peña's wake. In his defense, there are far more smiles than tears in the women's restroom when his name comes up in whispered conversation. You haven't heard this much gossip about a single guy since your senior year of high school when it was rumored that three cheerleaders got knocked up by the same football player as a pregnancy pact. For the record, only two girls were actually pregnant, and the alleged father ran off with the team’s water boy a few years out of college. They made a cute couple.

Favorite topics of conversation among Peña's admirers are his tight pants, who he's purportedly slept with, how good he must be in the sack, and contending reports of how big his dick actually is. Just that day you overheard one guy in the breakroom swear to a colleague that he'd seen ‘little Peña’ twitch while the DEA agent was briefing the latest developments in his investigation. You barely managed to hide your snort in your coffee, but had to admit the mental image was intriguing.

While not morally opposed to sleeping with somebody in the same office (that'd make you a hypocrite), you personally wouldn't want to risk the potential fallout of fooling around with someone as high profile as Agent Peña. The unfortunate reality is that women always bear the brunt of those consequences, and you aren't interested in putting your career on the line for a good dicking. As much as you may desperately need one.

You'd been out a few times since moving to the area, but calling those disasters “dates” would be too generous. One such encounter seemed like it was going well, until the guy answered a call from his mother, got into a shouting match with her over the phone, then cried over the bread basket. You promptly excused yourself and blocked his number from the cab ride home.

Since that night, the only dates you’d had were with some quality home entertainment and your trusty vibrator. The Magic Wand hadn’t failed you yet. Last night you enjoyed a delicious orgasm while watching a particularly excellent video featuring two men worshiping a woman’s body. That lucky bitch. It’d been way too long since you’d gotten laid, and it was starting to take its toll. Even with the regular, self-attained orgasms, you'd begun losing focus at work. Your mind frequently wanders into sexy daydreams about impossible scenarios in the war room.

At your desk, you think back to what the guy said in the breakroom about little Peña and giggle to yourself. That'd be a sight to see, and would certainly liven up a boring case briefing. Your thoughts drift, and a fantasy begins to take shape.

Agent Peña stands at the end of the conference table, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. One hand on his hip holds his charcoal suit jacket back; the other gestures behind him to the slides displaying the latest developments in his investigation. The lights are dimmed but his signature tight pants don’t leave much to the imagination. Your gaze takes him in slowly, lazily almost. Expressive eyebrows give way to deep set brown eyes. An aquiline nose slopes to meet his trademark mustache, and his lips make the perfect pout as he speaks. The broad motherfucker has a chest and shoulders for days, and his neck is almost too big for his collared shirt. When he moves his arms, the sleeves of his suit jacket are drawn tighter around his biceps. Down, down your eyes go, over the plane of his abdomen, past the unobtrusive belt buckle, and settle on the obvious bulge down the left side of his crotch. You can’t help but admire the outline of Peña’s cock; it twitches, and saliva floods your mouth as you squeeze your thighs tightly, your body responding of its own accord. Agent Peña’s timbre changes and you realize he’s said your name - you look up at him like a deer in headlights. “Like what you see?”

You hear your name again, but his mouth hasn't moved beyond a knowing smirk…

“Hel-lo?” You shake yourself out of your daydream only to realize somebody has actually been saying your name.

To your abject horror, the real Javier Peña stands next to your desk, a manila folder in his hands and a quizzical brow lifted in your direction.

“What? Yeah? What do you want?”

The questions fly out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. To further your mortification, you can feel heat blooming across your chest and face. He knows - he has to know - what is going through your head. Someone must have turned on the heat in the building, it's sweltering all of a sudden.

Peña shifts his weight onto his left leg, his right knee bent slightly. “I’m Javier Peña with the DEA -”

“I know.” Again, with the blurting.

“Right.” He works his jaw slightly. “I was told you were the one to come talk to.”

You focus on the manila folder in his hands and refuse to let your traitorous eyes dip any lower. They're just hands, for Christ’s sake. Large, strong hands.

“Yeah? About what?” Is your voice breathier than usual?

Peña fidgets with the folder, then leans over and drops it in front of you. His thumb swipes at the corner of his mouth and he places both hands on his hips. There’s an agitated tension in his stance, and he shifts from foot to foot like a horse ready to bolt.

“You’re with Customs,” he says, as though his meaning was obvious.

It's your turn to lift a brow at him.

“Yep. That I am.”

It’s easier to pull yourself together with something tangible in front of you to focus on. You flip the folder open and start leafing through its contents. There are copies of bank transactions, transcripts from what you assume are wiretaps, and surveillance photos featuring two Latino men in well tailored suits outside a storefront, one of them holding a briefcase. This was business, this was work – you could do this.

Peña clears his throat and smoothes down his mustache, the fingers of his left hand drumming on his hip. You wonder if he’s always this twitchy or if something could be making him nervous.

“My investigation is centered around these two men,” he waves a hand vaguely at the photos. “They run the stateside money laundering operations for some heavy cartel hitters, but they like to throw in some legitimate business dealings as well just to muddy the waters.”

He pauses to clear his throat.

“Uh huh…,” you prompt, looking up in time to see him tugging at his fitted collar. This was starting to get interesting. It’s obvious he came over to ask for your help with his case, but he seems to be doing everything he can to avoid saying those three little words, ‘I need help.’ What a typical man.

Leaning back in your chair with the folder and its contents in hand, you find it much easier to take in the man standing before you. It's no longer like staring into the sun, however sexy that sun may be. The Great Javier Peña, reduced to an average fed. You can’t help but be a bit disappointed.

Peña sucks in a breath like he's going to keep speaking, then wordlessly proffers his hand to ask for the folder. You pass it back into his hands and keep your expression neutral. Flipping through the photos, he finds what he's looking for and places it on your desk.

“That was taken outside an art gallery in Dallas. I think they know we’re closing in on some of their more lucrative sources of income and are trying something new.”

You look more closely at the photo in front of you and nod. “Art classes?” The second the joke leaves your mouth you cringe inwardly. Peña’s jaw twitches as his eyebrows scowl a fraction of an inch closer. Not the time or place.

“The gallery is run by a couple in their sixties, Frank and Harriet Mansford. I think they’re working with these guys to make some kind of art deal.” You gesture to the chair opposite your desk and he accepts the invitation to sit down.

“So, tell me, Agent Peña – where exactly does Customs come in? How do I fit into this picture?” Leaning forward, elbows propped on your desk, you fix Peña with what you hope is a confident stare. His fingers worry over the corner of his chair’s armrest.

“Narcos have gotten more sophisticated in their laundering operations, but this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve used art sales to clean their money.” His gaze is steady, but his fingers continue on their restless path.

“Unless they’re smuggling stolen goods into or out of the country–”

“They are,” Peña interjects. “I believe they are.” He lets out a frustrated breath. “I don’t have the evidence yet, but I’ve already been looking into this gallery. They specialize in European art – so they’re likely getting at least some of it from abroad. And an international sale would make the paper trail harder to follow.”

“As long as they’re legitimately purchasing or selling the artwork–” You hold up a calming hand as the agent makes to interrupt again. “Agent Peña, I’d like to help, but unless their crimes touch the border, it’s out of my jurisdiction.”

“I know. But that’s not the only reason I’m talking to you.” Peña takes a deep breath like he's gearing up for something and you brace yourself.

“I don’t know anything about art, ma’am.” He gives you the closest thing to a self-deprecating grin you think he’s capable of. “I’ve been trying to get the FBI’s art squad on this, but I can’t even get someone to take my calls – I don’t have an in.” He glances surreptitiously to see if anybody else is in earshot.

Your gut does an anxious flip. Please, don't let this be going where you think it’s going. He licks his lips and hesitates, avoiding your eyes.

“Word is you might know somebody in D.C.”

Your heart stutters. Shit.

Sounds like Peña isn’t the only subject of rumors around here.

---

Great, just great. You left D.C. to get away from people treating you differently because of who you choose to sleep with, but it looks like the rumors followed you all the way to fucking Texas.

You take a good, hard look at the man sitting across from you. For a moment, you seriously consider telling him he can go fuck himself. While social blackmail isn’t something you’re willing to tolerate after everything you’ve done to start fresh, you don’t want to miss your first real opportunity to get involved in a case since arriving in Texas. Javier Peña may be a god amongst mere mortals in this town – you’d learned enough about his career to know it wasn’t all bullshit – but you weren’t going to let him get away with using you for your contacts at the FBI. Well, contact – singular.

“The ‘word’ is?” You quote back at him icily. “And what word is that, Agent Peña?” Leaning back in your chair, you cock your head to the side a bit and rest your elbows on the arm rests. His mustache twitches the slightest bit at this change in your body language and tone of voice, but he doesn’t respond. You might be overplaying your hand here, but you’ll take that risk to find out how far he’s willing to go with this approach. Not wanting to be the first to break, you let the uncomfortable silence stretch.

Right when you start to think you’ve missed the mark and he’s going to walk away without another word, he nods, eyes never leaving yours. Mirroring your pose, he tents his fingers and licks his lips again. You force yourself not to look at his mouth.

“I’m not stupid,” he states. Here it comes. “I know what people say about me around here.”

Wait, what? Schooling your features, you decide to see how this plays out.

“I know you haven’t been here very long, but I’m sure you’ve heard some of the office gossip already.” He shifts in his seat and hikes his pant legs up, casually propping one ankle on a knee. You pride yourself on not looking at his crotch.

At that moment, a woman walks by your desk and gives the two of you a thorough once over. You stare her down until she meets your eyes, the smirk forming on her lips immediately dying. She scurries away and you turn back to find Peña giving you a bit of a smirk, and a certain glint appears in his eyes.

“Agent Peña–”

“Javi, please.” The balls on this guy.

“Agent,” you repeat purposefully, “I’m not sure what, if anything, you know about me.” You pause to take a steadying breath, but Peña continues in earnest.

“I know you worked with the FBI art squad on a number of cases during your time in D.C. that resulted in the arrest of several high-profile members of a forgery ring smuggling pieces into the country for sale on the black market.”

You blink. That wasn’t what you were expecting. At all.

He keeps talking. “But that was only in the last year or so. Before that, you worked your way up as a field agent and investigator at major ports of entry, developing a specialty in high-value contraband.” Peña slowly runs his palms over his thighs; the man is in perpetual motion.

As you listen to Javi rattle off various highlights and accolades that sound like they came directly from your personnel file, you notice the change in his demeanor and tone. He speaks matter-of-factly like he’s reciting a brief, but there’s a hint of something else in his tone besides simple curiosity.

“And then you landed the D.C. assignment. From what I hear, you could’ve been running that unit in a few years, but instead you took a boring ass admin job out here.” He gestures vaguely around you. This is where he’s comfortable – when he’s the one in charge, telling you what’s what.

“You’ve sure heard a lot about me, Agent Peña.” Your tone is cool and measured.

“Why?” He leans forward and braces his elbows on spread knees. His piercing eyes level with yours, pupils wide and locked in.

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why’d you leave D.C.?”

A glance out to the common area nearby confirms there’s nobody within earshot, but you still lower your voice when you say, “You already seem to know everything there is about me.” Pausing, you feel your pulse flutter in your neck. “I would think you’ve heard that part as well.”

He’s testing you. That’s how guys like him operate. They pin you down to see if you’ve got enough in you to fight back. Fighting back is what earns their respect. The smile Peña gives you is subtle, edging on mischievous.

“I’ve heard plenty on that topic,” he confirms with a gentle nod. “There are a few prevailing theories.” He counts off the rumors on his fingers and glances up to see your reactions to each.

Pissed off the wrong politician is met with an eye roll.

Moved here for a boyfriend – “...or girlfriend?” Javi checks – earns an exasperated sigh.

“You fucked your way around–” Javi stops abruptly when an indignant sound escapes your mouth. This reaction sends Javi’s eyebrows dancing.

Kicking yourself, you decide there’s only one course of action: honesty. Keeping your voice low, you lean over your desk and Javi follows until your faces are barely a foot apart. You force yourself to look directly into his eyes as you say your piece.

“I didn’t ‘fuck my way around’ anything. Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I had a consensual relationship that never once interfered with our professional conduct or the work at hand. Got it?” Javi doesn’t speak, but there’s a glint in his eyes as they roam over your stony expression, lips pursed in a contemplative pout.

“Once the rumor mill starts, it’s only a matter of time before the woman is left to deal with the consequences – not that I’d expect you to care about such things.” You practically spit the last words out before you can stop yourself.

The air stills between you. Peña nods as if to himself, then leans even closer, until you can smell his spicy cologne. “Let’s set the record straight about one thing right now, Agent.”

You swallow thickly and look anywhere but at his eyes – the long line of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the stubble on his cheek. His voice drops into a deeper register when he says, “I don’t give a shit who you choose to fuck or not – as long as it doesn’t get in the way of me getting the job done. We’re all adults here and can make our own grown-up choices.” He raises a finger, and points first to you, then himself as he speaks. “My one rule is: I don’t judge you, you don’t judge me.”

He pauses, giving you a second’s reprieve. “Are we on the same page now?”

You nod once, gritting your teeth at his condescending tone. Back in a normal register he says, “Good. Now about this investigation of mine…”

Peña retreats and gestures at the case documents underneath where your arms were folded on top of your desk. You look down, having almost forgotten his whole reason for being here in the first place.

“Agent Peña…” you start, and again, he interrupts.

“Please, I asked you to call me Javi.” The fucker winks at you – winks.

“Javi,” you grind out, playing his game. “I don’t know what you think I can do for you, unless this whole thing is to try and get me to –”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” His voice is a rumble in his chest. “Don’t insult me like that, and don’t insult yourself.” Javi points at the desk. “I came here asking for help because you’re a damn good agent with experience in this shit. If you want to show this office that you’re not going to back down from another fight just because some dickless piss-ant is spreading rumors, this is your chance.”

You let his words sink in and hate that he’s right. You did back down from the fight in D.C., the second it got difficult. Your pride was wounded and you ran away with your tail between your legs at the first opportunity. With a steadying breath, you sigh and start organizing the documents and photos.

“I’ll take a look at everything and see what I can come up with.” Peña begins to stand, and you cut in, “But I can’t promise I can get you in with the FBI.”

You haven’t spoken to Special Agent Marcus Pike since you left D.C. six months earlier. If you were honest with yourself, you missed the time you two spent together, even when you weren’t having amazing sex. Getting takeout from his favorite Thai place and watching an old movie, or reviewing case notes over pizza after hours in the war room. Marcus was the most decent guy you’d ever known, and you hadn’t even answered the few times he called to check in your first couple months in Texas. It’d serve you right if he refused to speak to you ever again, if you could swallow your pride long enough to call him up.

“I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.” Peña sticks a hand out to shake. You join him on your feet and grasp his hand firmly. Some of your confidence was returning.

“I never pegged you as the desperate type, Javi.” You hoped your smile was enough for the agent to hear your words as the playful banter you’d intended. Fortunately, he huffed a quiet laugh and nodded appreciatively, boldly letting his eyes wander over you. The heat of his gaze leaves pleasant tingles in its wake.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow to talk about next steps.”

The agent departs, and you sit back down at your desk with a long sigh. As you watch the man walk away, your reverie from earlier comes back in startling focus with new details. You think back to how commanding and gruff his voice had sounded with his face so close to yours. The scent of his cologne lingered – spicy, with a hint of citrus and something else you couldn’t identify. How his thick fingers splayed over his hip or massaged the arm of his chair as he spoke. The crease in the middle of his bottom lip when he swiped at the corner of his mouth.

Clearing your throat, you try to focus your attention on the stack of papers and photos in front of you. You couldn’t let your libido cloud your judgment now that you had a real case to sink your teeth into. You’d always prided yourself on your ability to compartmentalize, but your head was still swimming after the man had been in your cubicle for, what – ten minutes?

You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you.

***

Washington, D.C.

6 months earlier

“You don’t have to do this.” Marcus stands next to your desk as you finish packing your few personal belongings into an empty cardboard box. “I’ll talk to my guys, you don’t need –”

You still him with a hand. “Marcus, please. I’m choosing to do this; it’s a really good opportunity.” You hope he believes that.

Marcus sighs and rubs a hand over his face. After looking around to check that you and he were alone in the emptying building, Marcus leans into your space. “You’re telling me this has nothing to do with us?” His voice is deep, intimate.

He’s close enough for you to feel the warmth emanating from his body, and you catch a whiff of the aftershave that always leaves you feeling a bit heady. How is it still so strong even after a full day’s work? The frisson you experience whenever your bodies are in close proximity hasn’t diminished in the slightest, even after months of fucking on the sly.

You’d both maintained your professionalism at the office; you respect each others’ boundaries and careers too much to get sloppy in the workplace. The only thing that changed around the office since you started sleeping with Marcus was the other agents. Their eyes followed you around the office, conversations sputtered to a halt when you entered the breakroom, and snatches of whispered conversation filled your cubicle when they didn’t know you were there.

Clearing your throat, you force your eyes to meet his intense gaze. “Yes, Marcus, that’s what I’m saying.”

Marcus is a great agent, and an even greater guy. You know he’d want to stick up for you – as a fellow agent, and as a friend – but it’d only make things harder for you. Already your caseload had begun to dwindle and you were being consulted less and less often on issues squarely in your area of expertise. After several fruitless conversations with your supervisor, you weren't about to sit around and wait for your career to die – no matter how mindblowing the sex was.

The box is packed with your personal belongings and an assortment of stolen office supplies as your last petty ‘fuck you’ to the endemic sexism and double standards that plague federal law enforcement.

“Hey,” Marcus takes your hand in both of his and strokes his thumb over your pulse point as he perches a hip on the corner of your bare desk. “I can tell there’s something more to the story, and you obviously don’t want to tell me what it is so I’m not going to push…”

You roll your eyes at him teasingly and he huffs out a laugh, then pulls you closer so your hand is in his lap. He keeps stroking that sensitive part of your wrist and something in you thrums to life. “But?” You look at your joined hands. “I know there’s a but in there.”

“But – you know you can always talk to me. About whatever.” He shrugs a noncommittal shoulder and you step even closer, bracketing one of his legs between your own. His breath falters a bit as you turn one of his large hands over and graze your fingertips across his palm with a featherlight touch.

“If you ever need anything, please…” His voice drops into the register you only ever hear him use in private.

Fuck it – you’d been so careful and were still dealing with the consequences. Might as well have a little fun on your last day. You place a firm hand on Marcus’ thigh and glide it up to his hip.

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2

NOTE: The term “war room” originally described the place military leaders discussed tactics and strategies. It’s frequently used now in federal government, law enforcement, and business settings to describe any room used to strategize and plan – it could have various technologies (computers, A/V, video-teleconferencing, etc.) or be a plain old conference/meeting space with whiteboards.

Additional Author’s Note: I'm finally forcing myself to post this fic I've been working on in an attempt to get over my fear of people reading my work. It's the first fic I've written in the Pedroverse, and quite possibly the only fic I've ever posted publicly as an adult. I would love to know what you think! I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading!

#senorabond writes #javier pena x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic #the mentalist fic #peña x f!reader x pike #rumor has it fic

136 notes · View notes

bejeweledraven · 1 year

Text

snow on the beach

and it's like snow at the beach weird but fucking beautiful flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful you wanting me tonight feels impossible

kylo ren with a s/o

parring: kylo ren x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst if u squint

warnings: very brief mention of injuries (no graphic descriptions)

requested?: yes

request: anon: I’d like to see how Kylo Ren would treat his s/o. Do you think he’d be soft to you? Or he just as cold as he fronts?

song prompt: snow on the beach by taylor swift feat. lana del rey

word count: 767

(i could definitely work something out for either part 2 or expand it into an actual fic so let me know if it’s something you’d want to see :))

first of all, I think that there would be two sides when it comes to kylo and his s/o

there would be the public side, the one he shows in front of everyone, especially around the first order

and the one that only very few people, including you, get to see

he definitely works hard to upkeep his tough image, he wants to appear strong and intimidating

but that takes a great toll on a person, especially one under as much pressure as him

so only behind closed doors, you can really see how much that weighs on him

so in public, i feel like he would be very restrained, especially at first

definitely a lot of stolen glances (mostly on his part, the mask makes it pretty easy, but even with that i think he would sometimes forget people can see him turn his head)

and he would also definitely forget he’s not wearing a mask sometimes and full-on stare, which you would endearing, he would find embarrassing, and hux would find straight-up repulsive (”oh get it together ren” with his classic disgusted hux frown)

the public relationship with kylo is very much based on subtlety, he won't hold your hand, but he will definitely ‘accidentally’ touch your hand on numerous occasions

he most definitely has a soft spot for you, i think the first one of his love languages you get to know is gifts

little gestures that mean so much

a book you were talking about? on your nightstand the next day

a childhood favorite food you casually mentioned? suddenly available in the dining hall

and he would never admit to any of it, but you know it was him

another thing he would never do is admit how happy it makes him,when you appreciate all he does

admitting his feelings is not his strongest suit

working through that took some time

like most things in a relationship with him

another love language of his is words of affirmation

but you don't realize it at first (neither does he i feel like)

it takes time for you to see how happy it makes him to hear how much you care about him

and him saying it back for the first time definitely felt really special

he admitted how much he cares about you after he almost died, trying to take down of resistance’s bases

and were really upset with how careless he was

you were cleaning his wounds in silence, because of course he didn't let anyone else touch him

you were focused on cleaning a deep cut on his cheekbone, him sitting down and you standing, leaning in

you felt him shift in his seat uncomfortably when you pressed the gauze against the wound

“stop moving.” was all you could get out, even though still upset with him you felt bad hurting him

the silence after that didn't last long, this time interrupted by him

“i'm sorry.” was all he said

“it’s fine, i’ll try to be more gentle”

“that’s not what i meant. i'm sorry that you had to worry about me.”

it made u stop dead in your tracks, and you lowered your hand from his face, looking at him, unsure of what to say

and although it might have seemed like an odd way to say that he cares about you, you knew how much it mattered

it was the first time you felt like he was breaking through his cold and guarded attitude like he was letting down his defenses

for you.

it was a start for a long and sometimes difficult process of him opening-up

there are definitely moments when it feels like he's going back to his old habits of bottling up and distancing himself from you

and it's definitely a challenge to find the balance between giving him space and getting him to open up

it’s hard work for both of you, but it’s so worth it in the end

i definitely see it as a “you fall first, he falls harder” trope

his also very protective

it takes as much as someone looking at you the wrong way

but god forbid someone actually hurts you

he will do anything to keep one of the very few good things in his life safe

overall, i think he still pretty much keeps to himself in public, especially with the first order around

but behind closed doors, he tries to open up more

and although it takes time, you can see the change slowly happening

let’s just say usually a lot of good things happen behind closed doors.

#kylo ren x reader #star wars x reader #star wars headcanon #ben solo x reader #the force awakens #the last jedi #x reader #reader insert #star wars reader insert

228 notes · View notes

pomplalamoose · 2 months

Note

PART 2 PART 2 I NEED YOUR HCS ABOUT ROMANCING THE ANGEL OF A MAN YOU JUST DESCRIBED

for anyone wondering, this post is based on this ask

Hello dear anonnn, I really hope you're okay with me keeping this pretty brief because I have yet to decide whether I want to make this version of Dilf!Luke an actual ✨thing✨ on my blog BUT you asked and you shall receive🩵🩵

(I'm so obsessed with how you worded this, it's so perfect I just HAD TO come up with something for it,,,,like who is an angel if not Luke Skywalker😭)

• this version of Dilf!Luke is hard to get to know though it doesn't seem like it

• he's open-minded, easy to talk to, curious

• he laughs frequently, warmth radiating from him wherever he goes

• he's a devoted friend and a generous, much sought after lover

• unafraid of change he takes the opportunities offered to him

• he'll take you

• only those with keen eyes will notice there's something he seems to be holding back

• it'd start as a one night stand or a few more, a summer fling

• seemingly as unreal as he is

• and then; when will you see each other again?

• in a month? A year?

• he smiles at that

• maybe, if fate so wills it

• meeting his gaze for the first time makes the world around you slow down

• Lana Del Rey's "13 Beaches" suddenly plays in the background and you can feel your heart speed up in the face of his beauty

• looking at him is like looking directly into the sun and so you avert your eyes

• but the stranger must have felt it too?

• maybe with you he did, though one can never know as this is how many would describe that first encounter with him

• like I said before it's almost impossible not be drawn in by him and you too are immensely intrigued

• he notices your stare, not hiding that he likes your attention on him

• it's too early to be sure about your intentions but if you'd be willing to have some fun...

• he is

• you are beautiful

• I imagine romancing this version of Dilf!Luke to be much easier, although not without its tribulations

• depending on the age gap between the two of you, it will be a topic I see him struggle coming to terms with

• it's not like he'd mind taking you with him for a night or two if the feeling was mutual and a certain connection apparent

• no, it's the long term aspect of a relationship • in theory there's not much holding him back but he's very worried about taking advantage of you in any way

• that you'd follow any advice of his blindly just because he's older

• that love would make you follow him without thinking about it twice

• accordingly he'd only consider a younger partner, any partner at that, if they are self sufficient, strong-minded and opinionated

• additionally I think he'd sometimes feel kind of insecure, don't you think you'd be better off with someone your age?

• (however nothing that a few kisses won't fix)

• there's more though and you're probably gonna hate me, but: miscommunication

• I'm sorry HEAR ME OUT

• this is only going to be a problem in the very very very beginning of you getting to know each other

• like I said in my first post, Luke is used to being seen as something people want him to be, what they project onto him, and not as who he actually is

• and while I think he prefers it this way, it makes some things more difficult than they need to be

• it may take some time for him to decide whether you're just into it for the looks, for the picture you made up in your head, or not

• whether it's worth letting you come closer than others, to really consider staying with you

• at the same time you might think he's not particularly interested

• he sure is polite, charming even

• he does make you feel wanted

• but he could have about anyone, so why should he want you??

• he never stays in one place for very long

• I'm sure he does have somewhere he can return to whenever he wants, may that be a spacious flat or a an actual house, but it's not really lived in and only used for quick stops in between

• so, realistically speaking, it's bound to take a while until you're finally dating

• I think it mostly depends on where you'd meet for the first time

• maybe he's traveling around your country

• maybe you are traveling around his, when he happens to be around for once

• maybe you're actually living pretty closely to one another and just didn't know before

• not matter the scenario though, you'd have to be extremely lucky for him to be around longer than a week or two

• (it does certainly happen, he has a job after all, but I'm sure he does much of his work remotely)

Lana Del Rey songs I think go very well with this:

13 Beaches

Freak

Cola

Salvatore

Stargirl Interlude

#ask #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke star wars #star wars fanfiction #dilf luke #dilf luke skywalker #star wars #star wars headcanons #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #fanfic

18 notes · View notes

beautifulterriblequeen · 9 months

Note

Hello!! This is kind of a stupid question but do you understand who the Moonshadow assassins kill and why? At first I assumed it was just human rulers/generals from all kingdoms but when Viren was talking about how they were a threat in season 2 the other rulers didn’t seem to think it was as big of an emergency and I was a little confused. I hope you have a great day!!

I actually love questions like this! There's some nuance in the answer, and also some uncertainty, but I'll share my take for ya:

The Moonshadow assassins don't seem to pick their own targets, they accept assignments from the Dragon Throne. The full nature of that relationship hasn't been explained in any detail, so it's a tricky, complicated area of lore for the moment.

Basically, we don't have any information on how the Dragon Throne chooses the targets it passes on to the Moonshadow assassins for taking, aside from the one that happened just before the show's plot began, with Zubeia sending Runaan and his team to kill Harrow and Ezran. All we know is that these targets are supposed to be so threatening to Xadia that the world would be better off if they were no longer in it.

It's not impossible to imagine Avizandum telling his assassins to take out someone who didn't actually deserve it. It's relatively easy actually, knowing how he liked to stomp on humans, and how long he lived. It's probably happened. The only question is: how often? (angst)

I would guess - because again, we don't really know this for sure yet - that Avizandum generally chose actual threats, or people who could easily become threats in a war. But when you're a long-lived dragon, maybe you see different patterns in the mortal lives and cultures of humans. And Runaan and all the assassins before him wouldn't live long enough to recognize those patterns themselves, so they probably had to accept their targets out of either trust or duty. (more angst)

Some of them would definitely be military type targets: generals; shining young hero types with a chip on their shoulder; stealthy human assassins; dark mages if they dared risk it; and etc.

But a dragon might see strange harmless patterns beginning to form and decide to nip them in the bud before they led to anything truly threatening: a craftsman who just had a design breakthrough with a prototype ballista; a baker who just invented hardtack that could keep an army on the move for weeks; an armorer who just made a much safer design; a clever miner who found a rare and valuable source of iron.

People like that aren't dangerous on their own. But the knowledge they might share among the humans during a long drawn-out war with Xadia could be devastating in a decade or five. A dragon who already doesn't like humans would probably have no trouble sending his best assassin to snipe unsuspecting ordinary people like that.

We're still not sure if assassins must take an assignment, or if it's just dishonorable or something not to take it. But Runaan's a pretty regimented guy, and he's not fond of humans either. Between his trust issues and his protective instincts, I don't think he'd look too hard at his assignments these days even if he had a choice - he'd believe he was doing the right thing for his people, and then he'd stop thinking and go shoot someone.

I think sometimes Runaan definitely was doing the right thing by killing someone. But it's impossible to say which missions were and which weren't the right thing. Life is way too complicated for clear-cut answers like that.

Okay, onward!

The other part of this answer is about the Pentarchy itself. I think their hesitance to commit right away, and the reason Aanya got so much time to smack Viren with her sass, happened partly because Viren lives in a border realm like she does, and the other three rulers have a nice safe buffer between them and the brunt of the war efforts.

Basically, Del Bar, Neolandia, and Evenere don't have any skin in the border game.

They don't have big standing armies, and the only threats they deal with are small incursions - either assassins from other human realms or occasionally Moonshadow assassins.

Which is the topic at hand! But when Viren tries to convince Harrow to do the switching spell in S1, he claims that Moonshadow elves are an unstoppable force. Almost a force of nature, kind of vibe. If they come for you, you're just gonna die about it. Harrow even agrees with him! It's common knowledge how deadly the Moonshadow assassins are. And that's what happened despite all of Viren's plans - he still lost his king because Moonshadow assassins are scary good at their job.

So it's plausible that the other rulers didn't see any point in committing resources to an unsolvable issue - if Moonshadow assassins were coming for them, then they'd die. Why risk anyone else? Anyone in the assassins' way would die too. (Which they did in Katolis)

Another option is that Viren has been wrong before, and the other royals did commit resources to deal with the threat he claimed was coming, only to have time and money and forces wasted. If Viren had brought them costly mistakes, they could've been hedging their bets this time around.

There's a funnier possibility though: maybe they just didn't like Viren. People in power sometimes say polite things to an underling or a petitioner, and then have no intention of ever following through with it. They might've all been blowing smoke here, telling Viren "oh yeah sure if we're all in, let's totally do war, bro" and absolutely never meaning it even a little bit because they simply did not like the messenger.

Which is mean. But: royals.

tldr:

there's a few things affecting the Pentarchy scene all at once. We don't know all the factors involved yet, and the Pentarchy probably doesn't either. But at the end of the day the Pentarchy chose to hesitate, and that left Viren on his own.

#asks #thanks for the ask!#tdp #tdp meta #viren #pentarchy #politics in xadia

20 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 2 years

Note

Re: the second language discussion.

I think for a lot of people who speak English as a native language, it can be overwhelming to choose a second language. If you don't primarily speak English, it might be easy to choose it as a second language. (Actually, it's often taught right in school.) For English speakers, it can be difficult to choose as there are so many options, and without a recommendation for work or personal passion, someone might put it off forever thinking, "Well, many people speak English anyway if we had to communicate." If I did business with Germany or loved the culture and had every expectation of visiting or moving there, obviously I would learn German. I wouldn't expect every German to speak English for me. But if I have no such spark, it can be almost impossible to choose a language and even more difficult to stick with it. Which is what everyone I know has said.

It might also be easier to choose if a person's location borders a foreign-speaking nation or has many who speak a second language in the population. (Like eastern Canada speaking French.)

Yes, I had to have two foreign language credits to graduate high school, but it was not until high school that they bothered thinking we might want to learn a second language. The teachers did not care how much we learned. And there was no support system for continuing our studies after graduation.

Over the years, I've experimented with learning Spanish, Japanese, French, and glanced at one or two others. It can be difficult to commit, especially if you're out of school with no drive but your own. I've finally chosen Spanish and do daily lessons on Duolingo (which may not be the best teacher, but it is for my budget and schedule). And even then, I have several times considering abandoning my Spanish lessons to pick up French instead.

I greatly admire people who have learned English as a second language, and I am highkey jealous of their bilingualism. I just hope everyone understands that if a person already speaks English, sometimes one of the biggest things holding them back is the overwhelm of choosing a second language, which isn't obvious for everyone.

I'll post people's opinions, but I think my own views are pretty easy to guess.

English speakers come from all over, but many of us under discussion are from the US...

As a teenager, I went to a fancy high school with great language instruction. They had a whole Japanese program. I was a massive weeb. Hell, I was a japanophile of longstanding, even before I discovered manga and then anime.

I took Spanish.

As an American there is one very obvious language to learn. Blindingly obvious. And it even happens to be one with a massive vocabulary overlap and "simple" grammar from the perspective of English. Now, I admit that back in the 90s, it was a pain in the fucking ass to find any cultural products to practice on that were easy enough but also on any topic I'd find easy, but things are better today. (Of course, this is me, so none of that ever motivated me half as much as Las aventuras del capitán Alatriste.)

My Japanese was crap even after a lot of study. I remember this one time while I was working in Japan that I went to a craft fair—one of those temple markets in Kyoto. I was looking at a table of jewelry. The guy there said something about being sorry that he didn't speak English (in Japanese, I presume, though I don't remember anymore). I looked up and realized that the tan guy with long black hair I'd seen out of the corner of my eye was definitely not Japanese. I stammered out that I understood some Spanish but didn't speak it if he spoke that. It had been a few years since I'd taken Spanish, but I figured I'd remember enough. So he started explaining his artwork and the symbolism, the river of life, various cultural motifs, etc.

Fifteen minutes later, as we were discussing educational policy in his country and how his Native parents had been part of the generation to get English removed from the schools in favor of Spanish as the foreign language and Native languages as the primary medium of instruction, he looked up at me and said "Oh, you don't speak Spanish, huh?"

It's true that a bunch of dumb racists would scream if we tried to make Spanish part of all grade school classrooms in the US. It's also true that there is one most obvious language to learn if you're an American.

73 notes · View notes

queeniecook · 1 year

Text

"With Arms Wide Open" - Part 3

Things were great after that. Pak started taking underwater pictures for work. I had him make copies of some of them for the house. I loved them.

I didn't love waddling everywhere though. I tried to relax as much as I could. I only worked one day a week, from home. But it was a hot summer in Sulani. And I was pregnant.

Sometimes I did manage to relax, being near the water helped. But I was starting to just want to give birth already.

Then I was asked to make an appearance for charity. I didn't feel like it, but I couldn't turn it down. I'd feel bad if I did. Especially since it was for a Children's Hospital.

It was actually my first public appearance since I had gotten pregnant. It was held in Del Sol Valley. I took a boat to the main land and went by car. I wasn’t allowed to fly at that point.

I did enjoy hanging out with my fans again.

They asked me to sing a song and then tell a few jokes. Singing I could do. I picked “In My Arms” by Plumb. Which I almost cried through. I somehow kept it together.

The joke part, I had to google some.

I picked some about pregnancy.

“I sneeze, I pee a little. I cough, I pee a little. I blink, I pee a little.” I finished off with. Only the Mom’s in the audience appreciated the last of my skit.

Then I was sent to an outfit change. Which really sucked as a pregnant woman. When I was smaller, it was easy.

“Boy his nose is ticking me off, look how big it is. I just want to flick it.” I muttered to myself, glaring at some guy. Pretty sure he was a vampire and that he heard me. I quickly made my leave from the area. I was honestly annoyed by the guys’ nose. I needed to calm down.

I knew it was time to leave, so I did a few more poses for the paparazzi and left. The moment I got in the limo, my shoes came off. I couldn’t wait to get back home.

<-previous / next ->

#the grant legacy #evie grant #evie grant-uha #vladius straud #SHE INSULTED HIM I FORGOT THAT LMAO #simsstories #ts4 #sims4 #generation 1 #sims4 storytelling #ts4 story #sims4 story #ts4 legacy

16 notes · View notes

happygirl2oo2 · 21 hours

Text

Elementary Parallels

Gregson about Sherlock kidnapping and planning to intentionally kill the active serial murderer that killed someone he loved (which he didn't end up fully going through with, only beating him up for a bit in a way that would hurt but do no real harm before intentionally taking M to the police himself), s1ep13:

Watson: "Sherlock feels terribly about what happened. He'd tell you himself but you know how he is. What would it take for him to come back? Is it a matter of sitting it out or do you want a formal apology?" Gregson: "You sound like he took my favorite shirt without asking. Holmes planned to torture and murder somebody." Watson: "Sherlock thought that Moran murdered the woman he loved." Gregson: "Which makes it natural to think about paying him back. An employee of this department does not act on those impulses. Do you wanna know what Sherlock can do? Nothing. And if I had to bet, I'd say he's not even sorry. Now, I understand, you're worried about your client, you think that he needs this job to stay sober. I understand that. But he's broken, and he's broken in a way that has nothing to do with whether or not he's getting high."

Gregson about Kitty kidnapping and planning to intentionally kill the active serial rapist and murderer that terribly abused her 5 years ago (which she didn't end up fully going through with, ended up pouring strong acid on his face instead before intentionally revealing Gruner's location to the police), s3ep12 and s5ep15:

Sherlock, answering his phone: "Captain." Gregson: "We got him. Gruner. We've been trying to ping his cell phone for hours, but suddenly it came back on. We found him in a warehouse on Staten Island tied to a chair. At first, we thought someone had lit his head on fire, but the doctor said it was some kind of corrosive. Preliminary lab work says he is Jesse Laird's biological father, and Joan found a book stashed at his place. There are pictures in there that he's not gonna be able to explain. He's gonna wake up after a few hours, and right after I tell him he's under arrest, I'm gonna ask him who did this to him. Maybe it's a name I know. Maybe it isn't. Either way, I'm gonna have to go after them." Sherlock: "Understood." [cut to Sherlock and Kitty talking on the phone] Kitty: "There's some things I need to wrap up with the captain. I wanted you to know that this is the last time I'll be using this phone. Thought you'd want to verify that I really have gone to the airport this time."

Watson: "You want me and Kitty to talk to the captain?" Sherlock: "Is that a problem?" Kitty: "Yeah, Watson. Problem?" Watson: "You didn't just leave New York two years ago, you fled. You dunked some guy's head in a vat of acid." Kitty: "Del Gruner wasn't a "guy," he was a monster. All things considered, I'd say he got off easy. Watson: "All I'm saying is the captain knew it was you." Sherlock: "He suspected. Gruner never said a word about who marked him. Obviously, he didn't want to reveal his true connection to Kitty." Watson: "You really think that's gonna matter to the captain?" Kitty: "I wrote him a letter. The captain, after I got back. I didn't confess to anything… I knew that would put him in a spot… I just… apologized if I disappointed him. We're square." Sherlock: You heard her. They're square." [cut to Watson and Kitty in the police station] Watson: "You're sure about this?" Kitty: "Pretty sure." Watson: "What do you mean, you're pretty sure?" Kitty: "I mean, I'm reasonably certain he won't try to charge me with a two-year-old crime. 60/40. Ish." *Gregson spots Kitty, and immediately his face changes into looking pissed. She waves awkwardly and he begins walking toward her with what seems to be an angry face* Gregson: "Are you kidding me?" *stops in front of Kitty, then immediately his face changes into a happy and smiling one* "How come no one told me you were coming?" *proceeds to hug Kitty* Kitty, relieved: "It's sort of a long story, actually." Gregson: "Oh, yeah?" Kitty: "I could use your help." Gregson: "Okay, come on. We'll talk in my office." Watson: "Must've been one hell of a letter." Kitty: "Yep." *after explaining the case* Gregson: "I'll make some calls. You'll have all the help you need from the police in Jersey. But first, I'm gonna go find Marcus. I know he's gonna want to say hi to you."

Gregson about Hannah intentionally locating and killing the active serial murderer that killed someone she loved (which she fully went through with, before then intentionally disposing of Michael's dead body by putting it in the garbage with the help of a willing accomplice and only confessing to the crime to her cop father while being drank), s6ep21:

Gregson: "How much do you know?" Sherlock: "Almost all of it. Michael was killed by a woman at the home of a man named Denny Mulgrew. An accomplice helped her dispose of the body: a man named Curtis Jenkins, father of Graham. I confess I don't know at what point you were drawn into the plot, but once you were, you realized that the killer could be undone by security footage recorded outside Mr. Jenkins' workplace, so you went there and you destroyed it. I spent the better part of today thinking that Michael's killer was Special Agent Mallick. But no. It's Hannah. Your daughter." Gregson: "Maddie wasn't just Hannah's roommate. She was her best friend. After Maddie's murder, Hannah took some time off. She was supposed to be getting her head together. Instead, she started looking into Rowan on her own. She dug in. She got to know all the people in his life. Including Denny Mulgrew. After she heard about what happened at your place, she got to thinking. He's not going to a hospital. He'd go to a guy like Mulgrew. So she played a hunch. She went to his place and staked it out. The next morning, after Mulgrew left, she found a way inside. She had her gun with her. But she thought that was too good for him, so she used her baton instead. Him calling Joan's name-- she never heard that. And she sure as hell didn't know the whole thing was being recorded." Sherlock: "So, when did she make you an accessory?" Gregson: "Couple hours later, I got a call from a friend of mine who owns a bar. He said Hannah was there and that she was in bad shape. So I went there, got her into my car. And that's when she told me everything." Sherlock: "You have to tell the FBI." Gregson: "I can't. No. Hannah's a cop. She can't go to prison."

3 notes · View notes

kradogsrats · 1 year

Note

Hello.. I had a question as you seem to think about this stuff.. something I never quite get about dark magic - we are always being told how ‘easy’ this is.. yet Duren (according to latest q&a) didn’t even have a dark mage in their time of famine.. Katolis has had like 3 we know about.. so they seem pretty damn rare.. surely even with the moral doubts surrounding it there would be enough people struggling and desperate enough to try this path for the gains? So some might give up after a Callum reaction, but not everyone? Why do there seem to be so few? Totally no worries if you don’t want to answer this, I’ve enjoyed your thoughts on this topic and others, thanks for writing them!

oh hell yeah ngl I think about this a lot so

The thing about the “ease” of dark magic is that it’s placed in contrast with things that are extremely difficult or impossible, specifically a human learning primal magic. We’re told that the path to being a human primal mage is “dangerous”--and there’s at least one occasion where Callum definitely could have straight-up died in his pursuit of it, possibly more depending on how you interpret his vision sequence. It’s the dark magic that knocks him on his ass initially, but his internal preoccupation with it moves on pretty quickly. The most threatening physical effects, such as when he seems to be literally suffocating, are much more connected to him trying to grasp the Sky primal. It’s definitely possible that the dark magic was killing him, and it’s the Sky primal connection that saves him, but... knowing that connecting to a primal source to become a primal mage is “dangerous,” it also seems possible to me that getting close to connecting to a primal and then failing could actually just kill you. So I think frequently what is being discussed with dark magic being “easier (pejorative)” is that the personal risk and cost is pushed to an external source.

Anyway, while I do think that technically anyone (or at least any human) is capable of learning dark magic, in that it’s not an innate trait that only certain people possess, there are still going to be a shit-ton of societal barriers to becoming a mage. To name a few:

Money. Casting dark magic spells literally costs money in reagents. Larger, more powerful spells? More, rarer, expensive materials. All the dark mages we’ve seen live in pretty significant privilege. We know now that Viren doesn’t come from wealth, but he was also connected to Harrow from a fairly young age. I feel like we can assume he wasn’t wondering where his next meal was coming from while spending money on spell reagents or working three jobs and studying at midnight.

Access to education. It seems pretty clear that dark magic is not something where you can just start squishing bugs and it just happens intuitively. You need to learn it, which means you need either a teacher or access to enough educational texts to self-teach. “But Callum just squishes a bug and--” Nope. Callum both has already been exposed to far more dark magic than the average person through Viren and Claudia, and he specifically uses Claudia’s spellbook to cast that spell. He’s not going in cold. (And it still knocks him on his ass.)

Geography. Regarding access to education and materials, you’ll likely find more dark mages in a) high-population areas like cities (for education and trade), OR b) close to the border (for direct access to materials). If you’re living out on a farm in the middle of Del Bar, you’re kind of screwed out of both.

Danger. This is a bit of a squishy one, because it can be significantly ameliorated by access to money and education, but lacking one or both of those... dark magic can be pretty dangerous, whether from the standpoint of dangers inherent to spellcasting (see: Callum’s ass-knocking, which Claudia warned him about) or simply the danger of walking into Xadia to get your magic bugs for cheap. There’s probably a not insignificant percentage of dark mages who reach a certain threshold of power and ambition wind up going just a little too deep into Xadia and never come back.

Now, all of that is answering a slightly different question from “why doesn’t Duren have a high mage but accepts magical help from Katolis,” which is also something I think a lot about.

For one thing, we don’t really feel this as much as maybe we ought to simply because we are exposed to so few dark mage characters, but Viren is stupidly powerful. Like, insanely. We really only see him contrasted with Claudia, who is also a dark magic prodigy, so the unique levels of access, knowledge, and power he commands seem kind of... standard. But they really, really aren’t.

Also, the Queens of Duren come to Katolis for non-magical aid. That’s the first thing Harrow offers them--to open Katolis’s food stores to Duren’s people. No one jumps straight to “oh, surely there’s a way to use dark magic to force your farms to over-produce,” not even Viren. It takes him days of research to figure out that’s even possible. (Incidentally I’m 100% certain he got it from old stories of mage-kings drawing ripe crops from barren ground, simply because that is definitely a thing that would have happened, post-expulsion.)

Viren not only discovers this old, forgotten, incredibly powerful spell, he also is uniquely positioned in having the means to go about making it a reality. He’s got an inert chunk of a magma titan just hanging around as a paperweight or something, meaning he can magically locate a live one. Even if Duren did have a high mage, and even if that mage was of comparable skill level to Viren (which, if anyone is, it would be other high mages), do they have the same access to knowledge? Katolis is the oldest human kingdom, so it stands to reason that their library is, if not the best, then probably second only to Evenere. Do they have the same access to materials? Where do you get a chunk of magma titan if you don’t already have one? Is this actually a viable solution at all for anyone besides Viren?

Basically, I don’t think Duren’s lack of a high mage actually makes a difference in their situation. For all that dark magic is “easy,” there’s absolutely nothing easy about the magic Viren winds up proposing and performing, conceptually or practically. As an example of dark magic, it’s an extreme outlier because Viren himself is a bit of an extreme outlier.

So now to answer a question you didn’t ask: why would Duren not have a high mage?

I’ve gone over this several times before, but S4 has definitely convinced me that having a high mage, and a monarch/kingdom’s position on magic in general, is politically very much a statement. We don’t know exactly what happened 300 years ago with Xadia, the Human Kingdoms, Aaravos, and the Orphan Queen, but the implication is definitely that things got very close to being very bad, potentially even mutual-annihilation bad. We also don’t know much about the aftermath, beyond that on the human side, Katolis had a total regime change with (possibly) the end of one royal line and the establishment of a new one. We know that, while Aaravos most likely isn’t picky about manipulating a king or five, he’s partial to mages--and he has particular affinity for and influence over dark mages. If there isn’t either a mage who is also a ruler or a mage advisor to a ruler as the one spearheading the Aaravos bullshit on the human side of the Orphan Queen story, I will eat my keyboard.

So I think around 300 years ago, having a mage too close to the center of political power became something to look askance at. We now know that at roughly the time of the main series, Duren did not have a high mage, Evenere does have one, Katolis has one who has his fingers way too deep in all the kingdom’s pies, and of the last two, I would speculate that Neolandia probably does have one (due to how Tressal’s background is described) and Del Bar does not. Also, to take a closer look at what we know of Evenere’s high mage: she... well, she’s in charge of the library. Which is no doubt important, seeing as Evenere’s library contains unique texts that could be considered sacred or dangerous, depending on your approach. But she does not appear to be a major player in the ongoing politics of who will rule after Fareeda’s death. We don’t know if she attempted to protect Fareeda from assassination and failed, or if she had no role in the queen’s defense. Through all of that, she very much seems positioned as more of what you would think a high mage is supposed to be--a subject matter expert in magic, called upon by the ruler when that expertise is relevant--as opposed to whatever the hell Viren’s doing. Viren’s position winds up reading like a very strange mixture of confidante, bodyguard, personal assistant, and secretary of state. So in the story focusing on Viren, I think we’re seeing a relationship between politics and magic that is not standard for the other kingdoms (or for pre-Harrow Katolis, honestly).

I kind of forgot where I’m going with this, so to circle back: I think because of the nature of the story and the characters it follows, we’ve gotten a pretty skewed view of dark mages. It’s pretty natural for this kind of setting to have a low number of mages comparable to Viren or Claudia, or even someone like Tressal, but there could be (and it’s kind of hinted in things like Tales of Xadia that there are) a larger number of of much more modestly-powered dark mages spread throughout the kingdoms. The kind who spend their time brewing basic potions and traveling around the border regions de-blighting crops, repelling incursions of weird magical predators, or other various low-level RPG quests. There may also be some urban/rural divide going on here, since we see things like doctors in the fairly large-scale towns/cities most of the series spends time in, but tiny clusters of farm settlements might instead have a sort of herbalist-mage figure that does a circuit between several of them like an itinerant frontier priest. It’s very hard to say what’s going on down at that level because our viewpoint is focused entirely through the lens of what are ultimately very high-power characters--not just mage prodigies, but kings, archdragons, generals... Rayla (who must be put in a category of her own).

SO YEAH ha ha anyway I don’t know if that answered anything you asked because I saw the words “dark magic” and descended from the ceiling shrieking like a pterodactyl about whatever I felt like but thanks for asking

#also didn't get to work this in BUT #i strongly suspect lord viren deigns to allow other dark mages access to xadia through katolis #but strongly discourages any of them sticking around #because who wants unnecessary professional competition amirite #the dragon prince #dark magic

31 notes · View notes

pentacentric · 6 months

Note

Oooh, tell me about "pretty when you cry"....??? 😊

copying some of what i previously answered for the background, since this is from the same series that's already stsrted being published. Things That Can't Be Seen is canon-divergent (but not excessively) AU, wincest, powers/magic-adept sam, heavy on the world-building (there's a bit more backgound and 2 excerpts under the cut)

firstly, i have to say Pretty When You Cry is named after the VAST song not the lana del rey one which i didn't know about at the time (it's also good but a very different vibe). the story's actually about 2/3 done and already ridiculously long. it was also actually originally started to fill a kinkmeme request (ikr) and it got out of control and then i ended up fitting it into the series

it's set during sam's years at stanford. sam's experiences have made him a lot more comfortable with the more extreme side of his sexuality than in the show, and he's lacking a very good idea of what normal is as well. he continues to mourn his relationship with dean throughout, but he meets brady and they become cluelessly reciprocally-pining friends and eventually lovers. they're into kink pretty heavily (sam's subby and masochistic and bratty, brady is brash and has some lovely repressed aggression but is also very empathetic). but also he and brady genuinely love each other. i'll admit this story is somewhat self-indulgent since i discovered i really love sam/brady while writing this. it's like 50% kink, 50% sam/brady banter, 30% world-building, 20% sam being awkward while trying to figure out how to act like a person. it will get around to demon brady and also jess as well

series background: the major world difference is that the hunting community is slightly more structured (though no less dysfunctional or dangerous, maybe more so) and that it includes dedicated magic users within it (though on the fringes and generally with a lot of reticence and, for some, active resistance). the magic and its systems are also somewhat different and much more developed than in the show. as far as the winchester family goes, john never bothers to hide hunting or the paranormal from either of them. sam starts showing signs of powers (and not necessarily demonic) from a young age. there's also a family ritual that involves painting sigils on one's body that is central to the story

excerpts

this is prob more than you wanted, but you get 2 excerpts because i couldn't decide. 1st is some banter between sam and brady because there's a lot of that in the story. the second is one of my favorite parts that shows some of the magic in this world. they're both kinda long, sorry!

excerpt 1:

............

He shrugs. "And, to top it off...I really didn't know if you were into guys, even."

Brady stares at him. "How could you not know??"

"Well, I mean, I never really saw you flirt with men or anything."

"Yeah, ‘cause I was kinda focused on getting into your pants, you know? Um, had my hands all over you? Sleeping together in the same bed?"

Sam flushes. "C'mon, you're pretty affectionate with everyone, so how was I supposed to know?!"

"You really think I treat all my friends like I do you?" Brady shakes his head in disbelief. "Damn, I'm kinda proud that you think I'm that easy."

"Well, you kinda are. Once you get past the do-you-like-me-check-yes-or-no notes stage." Sam grins.

"Maybe I should have given you one of those in the first place." He looks at Sam. "You know what it finally took to get me to man up and do something?"

"Um, getting me desperate and naked and sobbing in your bed?"

"Well, now you're just giving me ideas for later..."

"It's Thursday tomorrow."

"...seriously, you can be such a buzzkill." He huffs. "Sure, that was the spark and all, but the fuse was already primed."

"...you don't prime fuses."

"Well, maybe you don't...you know what I meant, bitch. Anyways, it was Nathan."

"Nathan? What does he have to do with it?"

"Well, what he wants to do is you."

"What?"

"...well, I'm kind of reassured that at least it's not just me you're oblivious to. Anyways, he saw you at The Crucible."

Sam almost chokes. "What??"

"C'mon, Sam, you think you're the only kinky bastard in our group of friends? I mean, you might be the most extreme and all, but, really? Like, tell me you at least know that Tara does photography for the kink scene?"

"..."

"Oh, c'mon! It's not like she hides it!"

"Well, she didn't show us her actual pictures! When she said sexy photos, I figured, like, standard boudoir stuff, maybe some pinup."

"Nope. I mean, I think she does a little of that on the side, but most of her stuff is pretty hardcore. Beautiful, though. Hot. You should ask her to see it sometime."

"Huh. Wow. But, um...yeah, Nathan saw me at the goddamn Crucible. And told you about it?"

Brady shrugs. "He worried you might be runnin' around behind my back. Said he wasn't sure it was his place to get involved, and maybe we had an open thing going on, maybe at least where scening was concerned, but that if it were him, he'd want to know. When I told him we weren't like that, he was genuinely surprised. Didn't believe me at first, said everyone would be cool with it, we didn't have to hide anything. Once I convinced him, he was all well, I gotta warn you, if you don't go for it, I will. Told me I had no idea what I was missing out on, by what he saw."

"Oh my god. I only went there once, and...fuck." Sam shakes his head, swallows. "I'm surprised he can still look me in the face and act like everything's normal."

"Well, it's not usually your face I catch him staring at.' Brady smirks.

Sam groans and buries his face in his hands. "I think I've hit my RDA of humiliation today."

"Pssshh, Nate definitely didn't think any less of you for what he saw, I can tell you that much. Anyways, he musta seen something on my face, cause he backed off a little on the goin' after you. Said he didn't really believe in the 'calling dibs' thing, but it was clear you and I had something goin' on, even if we were clueless, and that he wanted to give us a chance to get our shit together. Told me not to wait too long, though. That was about a week before you showed up all fucked up at my door that morning." Brady rubs at the back of his neck. "Was gonna say somethin' to you on the night I made you dinner. Chickened out."

"Declarations of love over spaghetti? Very Lady and the Tramp of you."

"Shut up, bitch. You love to suck my noodle."

Sam shakes his head with a grimace of disgust. "No...just no, dude."

"Eh, can't land 'em all...shoulda gone with 'you're the one that's both the lady and the tramp,' yeah? Anyways, it all worked out in the end, obviously. I got my Disney princess." He picks up his pencil and turns his attention back to the papers in front of him. "Still kinda kickin' myself that I missed that night at the Crucible. Sounded pretty fucking memorable. 'S not my usual club, though."

Sam's brain stalls, reboots a few times. "Wait...you have a 'usual' club? You go to kink clubs?? Which ones? When?"

Brady smirks, doesn't look up, though. "Hmm, yeah, but I think that's a talk for another night. Might get us a little worked up, you know, keep us from gettin' to sleep right away." He turns a page in his book. "And it is Thursday tomorrow, you know."

"...I hate you."

"Whatever you say, Sammy." He innocently bats his eyes at Sam, who hasn't moved and is still staring holes into Brady's head. "Don't you have an essay to finish, baby?"

...

The next morning, as Sam's getting ready to walk into class, he feels the buzz of his phone in his pocket. He smiles, pulls it out, sees a message notification. Flips it open, and his smile disappears as he freezes in front of the doors of the Keck Building.

G (2 new messages)

Gideon.

His heart clenches. Misses a beat, maybe two. He barely even notices the annoyed girl with the curly pink hair that elbows him; absently stumbling out of the way of the flow of students without lifting his eyes from the phone.

He selects the notification, presses the green button.

-Sam. None of your dreams will come true.

He lets out a long, shuddering breath, the relief outweighing the resentment. Thumbs down to the second message, opens it.

-I won't have to hold your debt for long. I'll contact you soon for assistance.

That feeling at the bottom of his gut; that cold, that clenching. It's not fear.

It's not.

It's just relief that Dean, his dad are ok. Will be ok, for now. Everything else, he can deal with. It's all worth it, for that.

Right?

___________________________

excerpt 2:

............

"So," Brady says, arms spread out, slowly spinning, inviting Sam to take in the whole of the small harbor as if he, himself, had made the sand, waves, and towering cliffs. "This is Gray Whale Cove."

Sam tilts his head back, turning in place to take it all in. "It's amazing." He says, sincerely. "Beautiful."

So maybe he's looking at Brady when he says it.

"Yeah, not too shabby, right? I thought you'd like it here."

And Sam does. It really is spectacular; the slopes and peaks of the cliffs around them a mix of jagged grey stone and ground-hugging green brush, the half-moon of faded gold sand between the promontories jutting into the water on either side of them, the deep steel-blue of the Pacific churning itself through green into foamy white as it thrashes against the sand and crags. The air smells of salt and growing things, but with that base note of mineral you sometimes find in places surrounded by exposed rock. Everything's a little washed over and silvery with the sharp, pale winter sun. His skin prickles in the wind that whips through the cove.

But beyond even that there's a fierce power here that buoys and exhilarates Sam, sets his heart racing. Brady, while he's often so empathetic to the moods and needs of people around him that it still surprises Sam, doesn't have an ounce of sensitivity to the supernatural (and Sam has said a prayer of gratitude for that more than once). But even those without any gift sometimes feel the pull of places like this, without really knowing why. Sam can feel it thrumming through him, ramping up with each deep pulse through him, making his nerves twang like plucked chords, sparking tiny fires in his subtle body. It reminds him of the bass in the Impala vibrating through the seats when the sound's turned all the way up and they're pushing past a hundred on some straight-as-an-arrow, cornfield-choked, midwest backcountry road or a sandswept, broadly curving desert highway in the salt flats of the southwest.

Combined with his already nebulous state from the events of the nights before and today's blessing, he's soaring on it like a leaf in a whirlwind. He can't put away the grin that's cracking his face open. He'd worry about how his eyes must look to Brady (mad, crazy, dangerous) if he could bring himself to grab even a tiny thread of the concrete, the practical world right now. He closes his eyes for a second, trying to center himself a little. If he lets this build too much more he's gonna spin out. Do something dumb and hurt himself or Brady, or, at the very least, the surge is gonna burn through him too fast and he'll be left even more depleted and thinned-out after it's gone.

Regretfully, he pulls up a few of his barriers; not all of them, not all the way. Modulates the rush of energy tearing through him. Less firehose, more broad river to float in. He opens up his eyes slowly, nictitating their astral membranes at the same time, to get a look at the source of the energy swirling through the cove.

It's magnificent. A light-limned nest, a vast net of vital elemental magic and intrinsic etheric energy, woven, knit, exquisitely around them.

The major ley line that skims along the California coast, but only touches shore rarely, intersects here, running right up the length of the beach: a spitting, twisting, living rope of light, pulled taut between the bookend promontories, right over their heads, wide as a 6-lane interstate. But it also crosses no less than six smaller, less-deeply-sourced power lines. They spiral up and over and through the surrounding cliffs and hills; one even snakes up from the ocean floor, through the waves, its light refracting and breaking all green glowing through the turbulent water. But on top of that, there's also the confluence of three fundamental elements—the vast waters of the ocean, the earthy bare rock of the cliffs and hills, and the air of the blue sky high above and the wind funneled down into the cove. They're balanced well, the tension between where they push and pull and merge sending out fountains of branching, fractal luminescence at sudden and irregular intervals.

Sam doesn't know all the power places in North America, of course, but he knows of the biggest, most important ones, and this place he's not heard of. It's much more modest than many of those famous ones in terms of sheer power. It's doesn't have the gut-wrenching sheer force of the convergence of two major ley lines that some spots have, nor does it have the fulgent potential of a place where all four elements meet in equal power, but the mix of the two types of earth energies makes for a delicious nexus of magics. It makes Sam want to strip his clothes off and bathe naked in it.

Which, considering the few other groups of visitors speckled across the beach, might not be the best idea.

Though he'd bet Brady would appreciate it.

With that thought pulling at the corners of his mouth, he turns and looks at his boyfriend standing on the sand behind him.

He's never looked at Brady before with the astral veil lifted, it's not something he wants to make a habit of in his new, normal life. But he can't resist, just this once, and he's not surprised to find the view just as magnificent as what surrounds him. In his own, entirely non-biased, opinion, of course. Brady's aura isn't simple, but Sam didn't expect it to be. It's tangled, knotted, bruised in some places, in others loops in on itself protectively. But it's bright, and threaded with colors that resonate and shift. And it's warm, so warm. It sends tendrils out in some place, seeking out the light of others; vulnerable, but full of a pure kind of desire to connect. Many of them keep drawing back to Sam, slipping along his edges, under the surface. Their borders melt together briefly when they touch, and Sam lets one of his barriers down, just a little, feels Brady penetrate him, warmth spreading out from where they touch. He shivers; it's so incredibly sensual, intimate; he can't help himself. He surges forward, drops his mouth to Brady's, slips his eyes closed; lets Brady's warm tongue and warm emanations push into him.

Breathless minutes later, he opens his eyes, the mundane world filling them now, all glimpses of the metaphysical tucked away again. Brady's smiling at him, bemused and fond.

"I guess you really needed this, huh?"

Sam smiles back. "I guess I did."

With his boundaries tamped down now, the thrumming energy of the place is muted now, in the background. And, while Sam’s still feeling some of the residual euphoria, it's more of a gentle invigoration instead of the inundation from before. He'll only leave here a little recharged compared to how he felt before, but he's also not at risk of spinning out on energy intoxication.

"C'mon," Brady gestures with his head towards the north end of the cove. "Let's walk a little."

3 notes · View notes

enderevynne · 1 year

Text

Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities: Lot 36

Just tried a new show this morning, one I’ve been wanting to watch - Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities, and I’m... so confused. So unsettled. And not unsettled in the usual way that thrillers and horrors will unsettle.

For the first time in my life I’m actually coming away absolutely loving (most of) what I watched and still feeling like it was a waste of time and pointless?

So, disclaimer: I am an idiot. That’s the first thing to know about me. I freely admit I am an idiot, I have much to learn and look forward to learning it. I used to have a meta heavy blog on here many years ago for various shows, mainly spn (haven’t watched in years no spoilers), and I have a deep love for film and filmmaking. But I am a highly unintelligent idiot. That being said, I still need to sort out my (very rusty) thoughts on this.

I’m usually pretty easy to please no matter how many complaints I may have about plotholes and such (I’ve been complaining about such things in shows since I was a child and didn’t actually know what I was really even trying to say - Xena being my currently oldest memory but my memory sucks lol, and Charmed being my most clear memory that I never stopped complaining about no matter how much I loved it and still love it, to this day it’s one of my alltime fave shows)

Like, if there is suspense, good acting, flawed characters and good - or even decent - cinematography I am usually hooked and leave feeling acomplished in some way, even if it wasn’t my cup of coffee, even if I downright hated it.

This is the first time I can recall that I have left something having absolutely loved it but still coming away feeling like it was a waste of time, and that feeling in and of itself is very unsettling to me.

Despite very good slow-burn setup, amazing suspense, GREAT cinematography, awesome Lovecraftian scary monster, great unlikeable characters (one spn actor which made me squeal in joy and love the episode even more) I just... that ending was... idk. I can’t for the life of me figure out what was supposed to be the point, even with the obvious “get what is coming to you” thing.

So, feeling confused and unsettled in a way I never expected to, I went on to read some reviews on what others felt. And a LOT of people seem to have the same thoughts as me.

Up until the very ending this was a complete hit.

One review I read was an “ending explained” thing. So,

SPOILER ALERT

Hastily explained plot and ending under the cut.

The racist, veteran cruel-to-others-because-others-were-cruel-to me protagonist that is in over his head with debt to mobsters purchases a storage unit to try to pay back his debt, finds some unnerving Nazi memorabilia and occult shit, brings it to be appraised, meets (spn actor woohoo) overly excited occult expert that insist they go back to the storage unit to find a rare book that is missing from the collection and could pay out huge money. The Nazi previous owner apparently sacrified his own sister to a demon that is now inhabiting her corpse but bound in place in a hidden space in the storage unit.

Both spn actor and protagonist are deeply flawed people (something that could’ve been explored more in my opinion but those things aren’t even my main point in trying to sort this out so maybe for another more in-depth post at some other time), and as spn actor notes that demon will sense inherent evil in people and feed off of it. Protagonist of course will not listen to this, brushes it off as nonsense and breaks the binding holding the demon he still does not believe in. Demon gets free, gobbles up spn actor that very much as suspected had evil in him, and starts going after protagonist.

Protagonist runs around the storage unit trying to get to the one and only exit, where the woman he was needlessly cruel to before (not the Nazi owner, that was an old guy who died in the beginning of the episode, but apparently she paid for the storage unit and seems to know what it held but she moved and the adress got mixed up so she didn’t know the storage unit was being sold). Protagonist wouldn’t even let her get back some old, useless to him, stuff when he met her before, because no one ever helped him, so why should he be helpful at all,and cruelly only gave her a lock - which everyone watching knew was going to be used in some form at the story’s end.

However, when protagonist gets to the door, that woman is outside, standing there watching him plead for her to open the door, but she only shows him the lock he threw at her and lets him get gobbled up by the monster.

That’s it. That’s the ending.

Now, the “ending explained” thing I read tried to make the case that, surely such a powerful demon would be able to get outside of a locked door once freed from powerful bindings, so hence the only explanation for why it didn’t leave the storage unit and gobble up the woman was because spn actor and protagonist both had evil in them for it to eat them, but the woman did not. Therein lies the morality of the story. You get what’s coming to you, careful what you wish for, treat others as you want to be treated yourself type thing.

I strongly, strongly disagree with this.

If the monster truly did feed off evil, that woman should not have survived.

Because I would argue, if you can stand and watch someone plead, scream and cry for help and do nothing you have some dark, evil shit in you. Even knowing what kind of evil asshole that person is, I would never even consider not letting them out. I felt physically ill at that last moment as she stood there in cold blood knowing not just that he needed help, but knowing exactly what was coming for him. In fact, I felt more sick in that moment than I did when discovering the monster and what had been done to Dottie, when monster got free, when spn actor and protagonist were made snacks for half-cadaver half-tentacle monster.

In essence, at that point she was doing exactly what protagonist had been doing; being cruel to others because others were cruel to you. Not helping because you weren’t helped. But the added part of just standing there watching his last moments before the demon got to him, then turning around and walking away? Holy fucking shit, lady. If the demon fed off evil, it damn well would have fed off you.

And that admittedly might just be me being an idiot. A bleeding heart idiot. Maybe that’s why I cannot for the life of me understand what the point of this entire thing was. That ending did not make sense to me, and therefore the entire episode, no matter how much I loved it up until that very last moment, felt completely pointless.

Because what was the point then? For all this setup that had no payout at all (old Nazi hopping??) and some that had payout that made no sense within the confines of the story as I saw it? I do not understand this. At all.

To me, this could’ve been a masterpiece. I’ve never been so confused as to the meaning of something I’ve watched, never come away feeling like this.

But again, I am an idiot.

And lastly, again, and maybe even more unforgivable thing about the ending? We never found out why the fuck that old Nazi did the hopping thing. Not cool.

#Not Dragon Age #Cabinet of Curiosities #Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities #Lot 36 #Cabinet of Curiosities Lot 36 #Misc #Also I want to note that of course I wohoo or laugh sometimes when evil dicks get what's coming to them in shows or movies #And sometimes I hate myself for it #but it still makes sense for the story when that happens id #idk #My thoughts are so scrambled on this I cannot make sense of it #In this setting and in this story nothing made sense with that ending #Not to me #Like I'm not above cheering for the get what's coming to you thing that can be very cathartic in stories #But this`?#This was not it

12 notes · View notes

little-mouse-adventures · 7 months

Note

All this OC talk… now you’ve got me curious- tell me a little bit about your OCs, if you would like!

the thing is. the OC's that have been rattling around in my brain for like... five months? are NOT part of the fic I am 3/4 of the way through writing. So that's been fun.

But they won't get out of my head, and I like them a lot, so I'm gonna natter about them. (They also show up in this fic, and I keep thinking I might expand on that... I also have another fic idea I might put them in, because they're my OC's and I can put them in any world I want, but their backstories would be pretty much unchanged).

uh. this got long, so things are under the cut.

Ji-hun (Jimmy) Kim: Mid-40's, Korean-Canadian entrepreneur. Born the second son and third of four children to the leader of a Canadian based Korean crime family. He cut ties with his family in his late 20's and basically started his own little criminal empire. He quit that a few years later after his adopted sister Delaney nearly died from his bullshit and he nearly died because she wasn't there to protect him, and he went mostly legitimate into the fashion industry. He started going by Jimmy at that time, with only a very, very small number of people allowed to call him by his given name.

He puts on a pretty non-threatening and almost campy public persona. In reality, he's a highly intelligent and shrewd businessman and learned long ago that being a flashy, non-threatening person allowed him to get in close for Hello hugs and walk away with the other person's watch, wallet, and phone, which he can then mine for information to use later. Mainly focuses on fashion, though splits his time between high fashion and couture collections and practical wear for mundane combat - clothes that look casual and normal, but are actually tailored to carry multiple weapons or protect from bullets or knives.

Generally pretty easy-going, but he does have a temper, and is willing to hold grudges. He doesn't let them get in the way of work, but he certainly doesn't forget any wrongs against him or those he cares about, which is mostly just like two people total. Has majority stakeholder interest in a few ventures outside of fashion, a few electronic parts manufacturing companies, owns and operates a few exclusive clubs, that kind of thing. He goes a bit squirrely if he's bored, which can happen easily. He always needs a project, whether that's designing a new dress or pouring over tech magazines to figure out which microchip manufacturer to invest in next.

Delaney Winters: Early 40's, Jimmy's adopted sister and bodyguard/ personal assistant. She met Ji-hun when she was twelve and her father sold her to Ji-hun's mother to be trained as an escort/ intel agent to pay for his gambling debts to the crime family. She learned the skills, but was a bit too scrappy for the graceful, accomplished look the crime family wanted in their people, so she started training as a fighter. Ji-hun was in training at the same time - his mother didn't care for that as she wanted him to take on the medic role for the family, but he never really got along with his mother. He and Delaney got along like a house on fire and quickly became inseparable, so they were partnered together. It also worked well as cover: each had a "date" for fancy events where they would attend to perform assignments for the family from gathering information, committing heists, or enacting assassinations. This led to a lot of rumours about Del and Jimmy being romantically involved - they absolutely are not, but they don't do much to discourage the rumours.

Del is nearly always in high heels, and never (unless she's completely relaxed at home, and even then it's iffy) has her hair down. It's a dangerous game, to have long hair in a world where it can get caught or pulled in a fight or left behind as evidence, but she likes it anyways so keeps it.

She has less of a temper than her brother, and is more willing to forgive people. She's also willing to negotiate more, which, partnered with her love of old-fashiond Colt single action army revolvers, earned herself the nickname The Peacemaker. Likes dancing and daisies and houseplants - she sometimes wants a simple, normal life, but worries that it would drive her crazy with boredom. So for now, she's fine running around the globe as the bodyguard/ PA for her brother. She can be very charming when she wants to be, but mostly plays the straight man to her brother's goofball persona, and can be sharp-tongued and sarcastic. She's loyal to a fault - literally.

Marcus: Haven't sorted out his last name yet, but he's Ji-hun's love interest and eventual husband. Mid to late 40's. He's a chef, and runs a few high-end restaurants and does some catering, but he's just like... a normal dude. No criminal ties, no dangerous past. The worst thing on his background check is that he had a couple DUI's and speeding tickets in his early 20's. Very calm personality, almost surfer-dude-esque. Keeps his hair long (for a dude, it mostly hits his shoulders), and enjoys experimenting with different recipes. Eventually he and Ji-hun adopt two kids together and he is hands-down the less stressed parent - probably because he's the only one who had an actual decent upbringing lol.

#!!!!#thank you for asking about my OCs i love these bastards but never have time to write fic about them #they're also not the main focus of the fic i am SO CLOSE to being done and DESPERATELY want to finish #(specifically didn't write about that cast in the hopes that the desire to go on about them will translate to writing that damn fic)

3 notes · View notes