#And he never looks at prices outside of town because he KNOWS he can’t afford anything

[imnotditzy]

So when Billy from “Frozen in time Fawcett” gets inducted to the Justice League I cannot imagine how hard it was for him to get used to the new technology.

Like he’s used to television sets being wider than his head, and all of a sudden he’s in a building that’s in space. He sees flat screen televisions and absolutely freaks out in the middle of the conference room.

What do you mean there’s no phone booths in Central City or anywhere? You just take the phone ‘with you?’ How does that work?

Why’s everything so small now? What do you mean Jarts are banned? Why do cars look like that?

Billy must’ve been so confused leaving Fawcett.

Everyone must think Captain’s so weird until they get to Fawcett and EVERYTHING makes sense.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

love and revolution

Magnus was intently working on a bookshelf. It was made of a beautiful, dark mahogany and, upon the request of the customer, was going to have dozens of birds carved into the sides and edges. He began sanding the shelves with a fine grit sandpaper. For a while, the only sound in the Hammer and Tongs was the soft, repetitive noise of wood being worn down.

The calm monotony was broken when the front door creaked open. Magnus looked up and grinned at the entrant; Julia Waxman, loaded down with bags from various merchants in town, had returned, the last dregs of the late afternoon sun trailing in after her. The sharp bite in the air let everyone know winter was just around the corner.

Magnus quickly stood up to relieve Julia of her burden She smiled and handed him half the bags in her arms. As the pair got to work unloading the bags, Magnus frowned. Everything Julia had brought home was either small, poor quality, or about to turn.

“This is what everyone had. Season’s been tough for farming and everyone’s raising prices to keep up with Kalen’s tariffs,” Julia said before Magnus could comment. She inspected the hard loaf of bread she’d been able to grab.

Magnus shook his head. For nearly a year, Governor Kalen and his cronies had been enacting increasingly harsh laws, oppressive curfews, and predatory taxes; the citizens of Raven’s Roost all felt the firm pressure of Kalen’s fine leather boots on the neck of their economy and of their freedom.

“How is everyone doing?”

Julia shrugged. “They’re all doing as well as they can. The Silverstrings are worried because their wheat harvest was half as fruitful this year as it was last year and a good portion of what grew was seized by Kalen.”

“Lucatiel?”

“His wool has largely been commandeered by Kalen. He hopes to be able to shear another large batch before winter hits in earnest but he’s uncertain.”

“And Therala?”

“Her herd’s dwindling. Most of the calves from this past spring either died or –“

“Were taken by Kalen and his pals. Right. Jules, how does he keep getting away with this?”

Julia laughed sharply and started putting some of the dry goods in the storage closet in the back of the shop. “Magnus, that’s just how things have always been here. For a while, anyway.”

“But how’d he even get into power in the first place?” There was nothing but pure astonishment in his voice. In the five years he’d lived in Raven’s Roost, he’d never quite been able to comprehend how someone so ruthless could have gotten the trust of the town; his friends and neighbors were good, honest folks and good judges of character. It made no sense to Magnus.

She puffed out her cheeks and thought for a moment. “He helped form Raven’s Roost into a proper town. We used to be vulnerable to bandits and those who sought to cause pain. He was stern but that kept us in shape. He used to be better. Genuinely. Not good, not at all, but not like this. His policies were never quite this harsh. I suppose he’s gotten greedy.”

“It’s senseless for him to dig this deep this quickly. If it continues like this, I don’t know that the town is going to last much longer.”

Julia said nothing. She knew Magnus was right but what was to be done about it? The two continued to unpack and put away items in silence.

“Papa won’t talk to me about how business is going here. Said he doesn’t want me to worry about things. How are we doing?” Julia looked at Magnus seriously.

He hesitated. Steven had specifically asked him to not discuss the business with Julia but when he saw her in front of him, firm hands anxiously picking at a sliver on the table, he found it hard to deny her.

“We’ve done better. I’m sure you’re aware the craftsmen corridor has been hit pretty hard by all the tariffs. Not only can we hardly afford to replace the tools and materials we need but the rest of the town can’t exactly afford our wares. We get the occasional customers,” he gestured to the bookshelf he’d been working on. “But we’re not doing great.”

Julia nodded and looked down. “That’s not exactly reassuring. But thanks for telling me.”

“Of course. Just don’t tell your dad I said anything,” he said sheepishly.

“Deal,” she said, glancing back at him with a smile.

-

Magnus sat on a bench outside the Hammer and Tongs and stared up at the moons. His teeth were chattering quietly but he wasn’t quite ready to turn in for the night. Isaiah Erksine, Kalen’s right-hand man, had distributed yet another list of tariffs and regulations to all the shops in Raven’s Roost earlier in the day. They were unconscionable; taxes and levies on every single scrap of material you could think of. Harsher curfews that made it nearly impossible for those in the craftsmen corridor to do much else besides make goods that nobody could afford. It was like the very essence of life was slowly being choked out of the town. Or, at the very least, the spirit of its inhabitants.

Magnus’s ruminative spiral was broken when he felt a thick, scratchy blanket draped over his shoulders. He glanced up and smiled; Julia, dressed far more sensibly than Magnus, darted a hand back through the doorway. In a moment, Magnus’s hands were wrapped around a piping hot mug of mint tea. Admittedly, the drink was more water than tea, but he drank it appreciatively.

“You seem troubled,” Julia mused, sipping from her own chipped mug.

“I am, Julia.” He confirmed, scooting over to make room on the bench. Julia mulled it over for a minute before sitting down. Heat was radiating off her like a fire and it took everything in Magnus to not immediately wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Though he did scoot a little closer. You know, to keep warm.

“I’d like to think that we could go a single week without tax hikes but it’s seeming more and more like a pipe dream,” she said flatly. “I hate this. I’ve lived among these people for as long as I can remember. Raven’s Roost is my home. When I was a little girl, I always used to think dream about the day that I’d get to raise my own family here. It felt like such a safe and warm place. And now…” She glanced at Magnus before she looked to the sky. “Now most days I feel like things might be easier if I just go somewhere else. And I don’t want that. I want to stay. I want to want to stay. I just don’t know that there’s going to be anything to stay for if this keeps up.”

“I want there to be something here for you,” Magnus murmured quietly, looking at Julia’s profile in the moonlight.

“Magnus, believe me, I don’t want to leave my home. I don’t want to leave –“ She looked at Magnus from the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to leave the people here. I just don’t think I can keep living under Kalen.”

“What if we don’t have to?” The words escaped Magnus’s mouth before he could even make sense of them himself.

Julia lurched and turned to look at Magnus, bewildered. “I’m sorry?”

Magnus had a choice. He could have easily retracted his statement. He could have laughed it off. But instead of thinking it over for any amount of time, he doubled down. “What if we don’t have to keep living under Kalen? What if we could still live here, in Raven’s Roost, but without that tyrant?”

Julia looked around before scooting closer to Magnus, their wind-chapped noses nearly touching. “Are you suggesting…” she took a breath, as though to steel herself. “Are you suggesting a revolt?”

Magnus could barely focus on the question with Julia this close to him. “I-I think I am,” his voice was near silent.

Julia nodded. “Okay. How’re we going to do this?”

-

Watery winter light did its best to penetrate the frost coated windows of the Hammer and Tongs. Magnus was idly whittling a piece of scrap wood. There weren’t any orders to work on and Candlenights was right around the corner; he figured he could fashion something homemade for both Julia and Steven.

His pocketknife nearly went flying out of his hand when the door of the shop burst open, startling him out of his focus. Standing in the doorway was a young earth genasi he recognized from town. He looked frantic and near tears. Magnus set his project down.

“Hey, Allura, what’s the matter?” Magnus asked, inviting the young man inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Magnus, it’s my dad,” Allura choked out. He looked gaunt and miserable; Magnus thought back to a few months ago when the entire Mountaindeep family came into the Hammer and Tongs, jovially talking about commissioning a crib, as a new baby was on the way. Allura, a kid all of fifteen, had chattered to him for ten minutes about how excited he was to become a big brother. He looked decidedly less excited in that moment.

“What happened?”

“W-we couldn’t pay the tariffs. My dad has been charging everyone half price. H-he said he couldn’t hike the prices up, it wasn’t right. And we couldn’t… Kalen took him away!” he cried, bordering on hysterical.

“Allura, buddy, you gotta breathe, okay? What do you mean Kalen took him?” Magnus led him to a chair.

“H-he hauled him off to the prison and I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him and my m-mom’s giving birth soon and I can’t help with that, I don’t know how,” He managed to get out, hiccupping between every few words, too distraught to calm down.

“Julia!” Magnus called up the staircase in the back of the shop. He had to get this kid to stop crying so he could get the full story and Julia tended to have a calming presence on, well, everyone.

In a moment, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs and sent Magnus a confused look. He nodded towards the crying teenager as explanation.

Julia rushed over, knelt down, and took Allura’s face in her thick hands. “Hey, hon, can you breathe with me?” she cooed gently. And for a few minutes, the shop was silent, save for Julia counting breaths for Allura.

“Can we hear the story again, bud?” Magnus asked quietly after a few moments.

Allura nodded and sniffled. “You guys know that Kalen raised the tariffs. Again. Um. My dad decided to slash his prices, not raise them to keep up. Said he couldn’t. He’s a big follower of Helm and he said it wasn’t right to keep medicines behind a steep price. He just wanted to help people. But Kalen came collecting today and he took my dad. And it’s not just him. He took Mr. Anvilrock and Sevara Mountainwillow and a few other people. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to them,” he said, his voice small and scared.

Magnus and Julia exchanged a look. She sent him a nod and turned back to Allura. “Okay. Thank you for telling us. Do you think that you can do us a favor?”

Allura furrowed his brow but nodded cautiously.

“Go around to the others in the craftsmen corridor and tell them to meet at the Hammer and Tongs tomorrow night? Just tell them it’s really important that everyone come. And if Kalen or his buddies ask you about it, be as vague as you can.” Magnus said seriously.

“If you’re asked about it, say that I’m teaching everyone how to patch their own clothes since Masden had to close down shop. ” Julia offered.

“But what about the curfew?” Allura asked, voice meek and eyes rimmed with red.

Magnus thought for a moment. “Tell everyone that we might have a way to keep us from having to worry about curfew ever again. I just need everyone to trust me.”

“I think I can do that.” Allura said, rising from the chair.

Julia patted him on the shoulder and slipped a gold piece into his hand. Before he could protest, she held her hand up and shooed him out the door.

Magnus rubbed his face for a moment. “Something’s gotta give, Jules.”

Julia reached a tentative hand out to squeeze Magnus’s hand quickly. “After tomorrow, I think something will. I hope.”

-

“Can either of you tell me why three separate people assured me that they’d do their best to make it to the shop tonight when I stopped in town a little bit ago?” Steven asked from the kitchen table.

Julia avoided her father’s gaze, busying herself with prepping tea instead.

Magnus focused intently on cracking eggs without getting any bits of shell in the bowl. He quickly whisked them together and held off on adding any salt or pepper to the mixture before setting them in the skillet. That was a little tip he picked up from—he thought for a moment—well, from his moms, he supposed. Apparently kept the egg from getting tough or something. He wasn’t really sure what that meant but followed the rule without fail. Made for good eggs, anyway.

“Am I just meant to be okay with the two of you encouraging our friends and neighbors to break the law to come over for a late-night chat?” A stern edge crept into Steven’s voice.

“Steven, we just wanted to have a meeting with the other craftsmen.”

“About what? What’s so important that it requires possibly getting some good people thrown in jail?”

“People are already getting thrown in jail!” Magnus protested. “Allura Mountaindeep came crying in here yesterday. His dad’s in prison, along with a handful of others who couldn’t pay. I just…Steven, you don’t have to agree with what we’re doing but you have to understand. I can’t keep sitting by and watch the town and people I love be beaten down by some big bully.”

Magnus returned his gaze to the eggs. The silence in the kitchen was broken by the teakettle’s shrill whistle.

“We have a plan. And hell, after tonight, it might not even be anything. But Papa, aren’t you tired of struggling? You can be as stoic as you like but I know the truth. This isn’t the life we should all be living. We should be able to have some shred of hope for a future that could matter. A future that isn’t just toiling until we die.” Julia stared at her father as she moved the kettle from the flame.

Steven stared back for a moment before glancing back at Magnus. He let out a sigh. “We can have the meeting but everyone is out before moonrise.”

Magnus and Julia smiled wide.

“Deal.” Magnus said, dividing the eggs between the three plates.

-

A hush fell over the group of craftmakers who all crammed into the Hammer and Tongs. It was a tight fit but it appeared that most of the corridor had managed to make the meeting. The sun had long since set, leaving only the meekest dregs of light hanging in the sky; moonrise was due in less than an hour. Magnus knew he had to make the meeting quick.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard of the few imprisonments that have come about as a result of Kalen’s new tariffs.” Magnus began, bouncing his gaze across those gathered in the shop.

A grumble of acknowledgement reverberated through the dense crowd.

“And I’m sure you all know that any of us could be subject to the same treatment just for being at this meeting.”

More noises of agreement bubbled up in the crowd.

“Then I’ll make it quick and worth your risk. I hate seeing Raven’s Roost like this. I know in my bones it could be better if things were different. I hate seeing everyone beaten down by these laws. I hate seeing Kalen’s friends allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want, and never see any kind of repercussions for it. I’m sick of seeing people starving in the streets. Sick of seeing families torn apart because one of them had the audacity to be a kind person. I want Raven’s Roost to be a flourishing place.” He glanced over to Julia and pink stained his cheeks. “I want to be able to raise a family here. I want to want that. But as it stands, I don’t know that I can imagine a future for Raven’s Roost. I don’t know how many of us can last like this for much longer.”

“And what exactly are you proposing we do about it?” Hector Anvilrock, another metalworker in town, demanded.

“We’re proposing a revolution.” Magnus said simply.

The shop erupted in conversation. It began civil enough but quickly devolved into name calling and accusations of espionage and snitching. Magnus’s stomach dropped. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy sell but if this was any indication, he feared for the future of any kind of revolution.

“Enough!” Julia said, climbing onto a chair. She was already taller than Magnus and nearly as broad so the added height made her the single most imposing figure in the room, though her warm brown eyes added an air of compassion. “I understand it’s a scary thought. But do we really think it’s a better idea to just roll over and get kicked? Sure, Kalen has numbers and power and resources. But we actually have something worth fighting for. We have the most skilled craftspeople on the continent. We have conviction. And we have a goal.” She sighed and rubbed her hand down her face. “I understand if any of you are scared or apprehensive. I won’t make demands. I won’t beg. I want you all to join us but I won’t look down on you for not getting involved. I just want to know that we can trust you.”

She glanced over at Magnus who was watching her, stars in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him and sent him a tiny nod.

“Well?” He asked, seeming to snap out of his daze. “Can we trust all of you?”

It felt like the entire show was holding its breath until Hector nodded. And then Allura. And then Therala. One by one, each person in attendance gave a silent pledge.

Magnus grinned, relief flooding his veins. This was only the first step, but they’d already hurdled over it with grace. He was certain they’d be able to make Raven’s Roost a safe place for all someday.

[breanime]

Intentions

Okay, here’s my shot at a Tommy Shelby fic... Let me know what you think, please!

Prompt:  “You think I would do this for just anybody?”

You weren’t entirely sure what possessed Tommy Shelby—the Tommy Shelby—to assist you, but you decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and just appreciate it. Ever since he’d overheard you telling Ada about the men who harassed you on the streets, Tommy had taken it upon himself to make sure you always had an escort home.

And for the last five days, that escort had been him.

��Really, Mr. Shelby—” you began, holding your purse in front of you as Tommy locked up the office.

“—Tommy,” he corrected you, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Tommy,” you repeated, “you don’t have to keep doing this, really. I can just walk.”

“You live 45 minutes from the office,” he said back, “and that’s not counting having to stop for fucking protests or some pieces of shite trying to pick you up. Then it’s around 56 minutes if it’s raining or snowing,” he went on, “More if it’s doing both at once,” he led you to his car, opening the door for you, “You work hard; you ought to have your boss make sure you get home safe.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your growing smile in check. Tommy had no way of knowing that—the time it took for you to get home—unless he walked the walk himself. “Well,” you said, climbing into the car, “I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well just appreciate it quietly, eh? Don’t need the other girls thinkin’ they can get a free ride out of me,” he glanced at you, giving you a small smile that made your heart flip in your chest. You watched as he started the car, and he turned to you, “Why do you stay in that neighborhood, anyway?” He asked you. “It’s so far from town, the buildings are old, the landlords are pricks…”

“It’s the only neighborhood that houses Blacks,” you answered, “Or at least it’s the only one that houses us at an affordable price.”

“Hm,” he nodded, looking ahead as he drove, the smoke from his cigarette billowing from his lips, “Am I paying you that poorly?”

You laughed, and you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched upwards as you did. “You pay me well above the usual rate. I’m just saving it up, is all. I can’t have you driving me around forever, Mr. Shelby—”

“—Tommy,” he corrected you.

You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle, “Tommy,” you amended yourself.

“I don’t mind it, you know,” he said, turning the wheel, “driving you. These last few days, it’s been… nice,” he paused, “I don’t get a lot of time for good company or conversation on me own.”

“Oh, so I’m good company, am I?” You said with a grin.

Tommy turned to you, those diamond blue eyes staring right into your soul, “You’re a smart girl,” he replied, “Loyal, Trustworthy. Hard working. And you’re bloody gorgeous so. Yes. You make for good company.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and your eyes darted down to your lap. You’d heard that Tommy Shelby was a charmer, and that he’d had pretty much every woman who’s worked for him—minus his aunt and his sister-in-law, of course—but you’d never seen him so… forward.

You liked it.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” He asked casually, as if he was asking about the weather.

“No,” you answered, looking over at him, “You make for good company too.”

He gave a wry smile then. “Fishin’ for a raise, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Either I’m loyal and trustworthy, or I’m bootlicker. Which is it, Tommy?”

He laughed, and the sound made you warm all over. Tommy didn’t laugh nearly as often as he should. “Fair enough,” he nodded, “You’re not a bootlicker, that’s for sure,” he glanced over at you again, “I haven’t figured out what it is you are yet…”

“I’m a girl who isn’t gonna let you fuck her just cause you’ve given me a few rides,” you said back, speaking before you could stop yourself.

He raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Is that what you think is going on here?” He asked. “My driving you home from work? You think I’m doing this for sex?”

You licked your lips, nervous now. “Well, I mean no offense, Mr.—Tommy—but I’ve worked for you for three months now, and I think I know you well enough to know that you never do anything for nothing.”

Tommy smirked. “That’s true,” he stopped the car, letting a mother and her kids pass in front, and looked at you, his eyes staring into yours brazenly, “So, let’s have it. Give me your theories,” he started the car again, glancing back at you as he spoke, “Why, then, do you think that I do this?”

You paused. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Maybe he didn’t want to sleep with you. Just because he called you gorgeous, didn’t mean he wanted to fuck you, after all. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said—although Tommy always meant what he said. Maybe, though, he really was just concerned about your wellbeing. A woman walking home alone at night could be vulnerable to all kinds of dangers, and given the amount of enemies the Shelbys had… You looked over at Tommy. “You do this for everyone,” you surmised.

Tommy turned to you, an eyebrow raised. “You think I would do this for just anybody?”

Again, you paused. “Yes?”

“Well, I don’t,” he said back, “I’ve never driven any of the girls home—except for Lizzie, but that’s only because I fucked her,” he went on, blunt as ever, “This takes up a portion of my time, and I’m not a man who has a lot of time to waste,” he looked over at you, “I like being around you,” he confessed, “I like the way you talk. I like the way you think, and when I think of you alone at night… I can’t sleep. I can never sleep, but still…” He took his cigarette and tossed it, giving a humorless chuckle. “You make me ramble,” he went on, shrugging one shoulder, “I don’t ramble, least not since France...” He paused for a moment. “When I’m busy, and one of the lads takes you home instead, it ruins me night. It irritates me that I missed out on that time with you, and that another man got it instead,” he glanced at you again, “Is that alright to say?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I prefer it when you drive me,” you admitted, “Not that the others aren’t nice and all—they are—but… I do like this time with you, being alone with you…”

Tommy looked at you, his sky-blue eyes staring into yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Wordlessly, he pulled the car over, turning to face you fully. “Tomorrow is Friday,” he said, and you blinked, confused as to why he was telling you something you already knew, “Pay day. I’d like to take you out to dinner. Maybe see a picture after. Would that be alright?”

You felt your lips spread out in a smile, and Tommy smiled back, chuckling a bit at the excitement in your eyes. “Yes,” you answered, “yes, that’d be alright.”

“But I want to be honest with you,” he went on, “I respect you as an employee, and you’ve been a good friend to me these past months, and regardless of what happens tomorrow night, I will still make sure you have a safe way home after work,” he leaned forward a bit, his voice low and deep, “but I want it known that I very much do want to fuck you.”

His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you had to remind yourself that you were a lady, not a whore…no matter how much Tommy Shelby’s glimmering eyes and sharp jawline made you want to be… Biting your lip, you smiled at him, “I’m not going to open my legs for you on the first date, Tommy.”

He laughed, taking out another cigarette and lighting it, the flame reflecting in his ocean-colored eyes. “Mm, we’ll see,” he murmured, “So it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

The rest of the drive passed quickly—too quickly for your taste. The two of you discussed work and your families and what movie you’d like to see, and before you knew it, he was parked outside of your building.

He opened the door for you and walked you to the front door like a gentleman. And you thanked him—

—with a kiss.

If the kiss took him by surprise, Tommy didn’t show it. As soon as your lips touched his, his arm was wrapped around you, keeping you close. The kiss was soft, but firm, and Tommy’s slender body felt magnificent against yours. You wondered, at the back of your mind, what your neighbors would think, seeing you necking with Tommy fucking Shelby of the Peaky fucking Blinders, but you couldn’t be bothered to care about what the gossips may say.

You were too busy trying to keep yourself from floating off in a haze of bliss.

You pulled back first, and Tommy let you. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. “I’m not letting you up, Tommy.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” you smirked, making him laugh.

“I’m a patient man,” he said back, taking a step back, “I can wait until tomorrow.”

You laughed at that, but the truth was, you were quite certain that tomorrow night, when Tommy pulled up in front of your apartment, he wouldn’t be driving off until the sun rose.

In fact, you were counting on it.

You watched him drive off from your window, a sigh escaping from deep in your chest, the taste of him—mint and smoke and a hint of whiskey—fresh on your lips. Tommy fucking Shelby…

…what had you gotten yourself into?

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! You guys know how I get when I write a new character; I always think it’s shit. So if it is, tell me! And if it’s not, tell me why, please! Should I write for him again, or nah? Cause I kind of have an idea for a Part 2, but IDK if anyone would be interested. 

 And if you really enjoyed it and you can send in a tip here, I would greatly appreciate it!

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[ofdynasts]

( Diego Luna, cismale, he/him, 42 ) ** ♔ announcing JULIAN GALLARDO BERNAL,  the ADVISOR from DENMARK ! upon closer look, they resemble DIEGO LUNA. it is a miracle that HE survived the last five years and for that reason, they are AGAINST the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of A TATTERED CLOAK HEM COVERED IN MUD, THE CHIPPED EDGE OF A KNIFE, A LOCKET FROM A LOVED ONE. 

some of y'all never had to be the "good child" in hopes of lessening your parents' problems which ultimately lead to buried feelings, inability to express emotions, wanting to please everyone, inability to handle the tiniest bit of confrontation and criticism,and it really shows.

You are the youngest of five sons and many would think that means you're blessed with plenty of siblings to look after you, with enough siblings to share the workload so that there's always a hand to lend help when things are different, but inside your house, you know that's not the case. You have your brother the drinker, your other brother the deluded, another brother who is the dreamer, and your final brother the spendthrift. That leaves you to be the good son.

Between them all, they make more work as the all seem set to lead the family into ruin. Your eldest brother makes his coin, and then spends it all in the pub on ale and the ladies outside the building. Eventually he weds and moves to the other side of town, blaming the rest of the family for why it's so damn hard to stay sober. He's still drunk every evening that you see him.

Your next brother never holds a job and causes enough fights that eventually he's on bad terms with more people than your parents are friendly with. There's only so many incidents that can be forgiven, even when the apologies come along with gifts that your family can't afford to give. Replacements for things broken, money, livestock, their bad reputation keeps growing, and it begins to taint the family name.

Maybe it makes sense that your next brother runs away, set to make his fortune during grand travels across the world. He was always taken by flights of fancy, but now he's determined that he'll make it rich if only he leaves and gets away from the family name. Maybe he was right, but you don't know because you receive three letters exactly, and then never hear from him again. If he made that fortune, none of it makes it back home.

And money would be useful, because your last brother doesn't seem to know how it works, or at least not how much of it you truly have. Items outside your price are bought, as if he wants to be more than what he is, illusions of grandeur clouding his eyes as bills rack up that your family can't pay.

And you? You are the good son, so you are the one who trades in hard work when there isn't money to go around, you're the one who feels the weight of picking up the slack of others, biting your cheek to keep from screaming while you do all the work that is abandoned to you by those who can't look beyond their own wants. No one asks about your desires, and you don't speak of them.

You don't say a word when you quietly save up for new shoes, or when you can't sleep because you go to bed hungry, wanting the food to last longer. You don't say a word when you fall in love and the girl invites you to the castle, saying her father is part of the court and will give you a job, and you don't go with her. You want to, but someone needs to look after your parents and that job fall to you alone, tumbling from the careless hands of your siblings until it lands in your lap.

You're heartbroken, but that's what you're coming to expect from life.

When your father dies, you are the only son he is still speaking to and you think that maybe, just for once, that your brothers will gather themselves together and support your mother. You're wrong, yet again.

Your oldest brother pulls away because he says he needs to focus on being the head of his own family. Your youngest brother, who is still older than you, wants to buy things in the memory of your father, getting rid of funds that could help replace the roof.

Your third brother has been long gone, but the second remained and will likely never leave. For a while, you have hope that he will help watch after your mother, but even that hope is destroyed when instead he rants and he rages, saying that more was done for the other brothers, that support was given to them while he was never allowed to lead his own life.

It makes you want to scream and for the very first time in your life, you do. You yell and when he shoves, you hit, and the two of you end up in a fight with blood and collateral damage, your mother crying in the background.

He loses a tooth, you get a black eye and a limp. Both of yours will go away, but his tooth won't grow back and you take satisfaction even in the cold of a cell.

You don't ask why you're in there or how long you'll be in there, too tired and sore from fighting to care and instead basking in the fact that for once in your life, you're expected to do nothing but to sit, to wait. You can't remember the last time you had a break so long.

Eventually someone comes to you, and they bring you before someone more powerful than you could ever hope to be - a noble, the man in charge of your town, and towns beyond.

But not in charge of Denmark, which is what he needs.

The story comes out quickly, simply. This nobleman has a sister who went to the castle of the king of Denmark and she never returned. King Aslak is not a good man, and this is not a secret, nor is his appetite for beautiful women. Queen Katharina has killed women who couldn't prevent her husband from touching them, or that's what rumor says. With no notes or word sent on the lips of another, the noble is worried about his sister's safety, either at the hands of the king or at his queen.

You're offered a deal, a generous and ridiculous deal that doesn't fully make sense to you. Go to the castle where the king is, and try to find his sister. Spy on what's happening in the castle - there was a pretty girl in town once who invited you, wasn't there? Agree to go, and you'll be set free, your mother watched after while you're gone. Disagree, and you can be left to rot.

There's only one life to the noble that matters to the noble, and it isn't yours, a sickly heat spreading across your skin despite the chill of the room. You never told your family about Tove, and it doesn't seem right or fair that this man should, that she should be used against you in such a way.

Why send you? Why not go himself? It seems a valid question and you ask it, your throat still open wide from screaming and words falling far more easily than they did before.

Because, you're told, your life is expendable. The life of a noble is not.

Stay in a cell, and your aging mother will be left alone, visited only by those with open hands insisting she owes them, as if she hasn't struggled for them her entire life. Leave the cell, and it will be your turn to walk away from your mother, but you'd be leaving her with a promise of care, with food and a roof that doesn't leak.

You make sure to ask what taking care of your mother means, because she's old and her eyes are going, and you're promised that a place will be found for her in the noble's own home. It's a hostage situation, and her care is depending on your ability to keep up correspondence and provide information, that much is made clear, just as you're informed that leniency won't be extended to your brothers.

That's fine. You're still angry enough that you don't care what becomes of them. You are angry, and you are the good son, so you accept the deal.

A few days later, you kiss your mother goodbye and leave, a harsh wind at your back and urging you on.

Despite the noble's words, you don't expect to find Tove again and when you do, you don't expect her to have waited, or to fling herself into your arms. Having her back is a shock to you, but a welcome one, even if the knowledge that you'll be using her eats at you. True to her word, her father helps you get a job, and the pair of you are soon engaged, preparing to start a life together as you begin to experience life as a servant inside the castle, playing the role of wide eyed newcomer to the staff and eagerly soaking up the rumors of what happens between the royal family.

King Aslak is not a good man, but there is a difference between hearing about it in rumor and hearing it from the people it's impacted.

Tove is a shining light in your life, the feelings you share are the one good and honest thing you have going for you in your new home, she is the prize for your deception and you love her. Once again, hope flickers to life in your chest, that for all the uncertainty about your mother and your actions, that perhaps you can still have this one thing in your life that is pure.

You marry and then with a year, you are widowed.

The plague arrived almost on your heels and Tove is an early victim, taking your heart into the flames and charring it to ash. As more and more fall prey to disease, more positions open up inside the castle, and you rise by virtue of there being no one else to do it. Sometimes at night, you think of the life you could provide for your mother with this job, and you wonder if she's still alive or not, taken out either by the plague or the lord who looks after her.

It makes you hysterical to think about it too long. The plague makes it difficult to get word out, if not impossible. She could be dead from his lack of correspondence. She could be dead from the plague without you there to look after her. She could be dead, and your mind says that either way things go, it's your fault. You have no way of knowing except to leave, and you can't.

And then the King dies. Not by the plague, but while out with his son and you don't care about the details, only that it seems like he didn't suffer enough for all the pain he's caused others. You never found out what happened to the noble's sister, just that she seemed to disappear, and at this point, you consider her as good as dead. Everyone is as good as dead to you at this point.

The plague continues on, and a new king is crowned, one that isn't anything at all like his father. Is this who you'll betray, then? Not an evil man, but the children of an evil man, all of whom seem to want to be good?

It doesn't matter. You have your role to play and the plague keeps you locked within in, the smell of bodies burning thick in the air until one day the deaths start dwindling, and food supplies increase, and slowly the world seems not quite as lethal as it once did. It's still a difficult way to live, but now you're surprised by how few people die instead of how many, illnesses just something common and unpleasant instead of a fatal disease.

You could leave, could go back home where surely your job must be considered completed. Even with the plague, word of the death of the king must have spread, the people know of their new king, and perhaps the nobleman's plans of revenge don't go against his son?

But if ever there was a time for a coup, a time for someone to seize power and demand things, it would be when people are weak, and so you don't know. You've played your role for years now without any instruction, without anyone to watch. You've gathered secrets and kept them locked up tight behind your teeth, and somehow you've become not only important, but trusted.

You're asked to be advisor to the king, and it makes no sense. Six years in the castle, and you're being offered a chance to become someone with an amount of prestige beyond your wildest dreams.

Tove is gone and you don't know if your mother lives, just as you don't know if the noble himself lives. Perhaps they don't even know you've survived, and this is a chance at the start of a new life, the end of the plague a rebirth for those that made it through.

And then you receive a letter.

You accept the role of king's advisor. You've always been a good son.

As my story came to a close I realized that I was the villain all along

[dark-frosted-heart]

This might be a lot so I can understand if you can't write it all out, but I really liked reading your favourite moments on Sariel's route, I was curious to know about your fav moments from the other princes (it does not have to be all the princes but just route stuff that stuck with you) :)

Thanks anon! And I love your question but my memory is absolutely terrible when it comes to recalling things I’ve read so I can’t pinpoint specific moments for most of them 😂

Spoilers for Clavis’ and Jin’s route because I have notes for those Apparently I really like Chapter 24 of each route?

Jin’s route In which MC is a baby bird following mama Jin.

Despite him being a walking sexual harassment case in the first couple of chapters and something he does in chapter 19, Jin’s route is still one of my favorites. It had a good amount of bittersweetness expected from an LI who’d sworn off love and held himself back from/tried to scare away MC when he realized her feelings and his own feelings. I have a soft spot for the dependable big brother type characters (lecherous or not).

Chapter 3 Jin and MC are out in town for a social studies lesson, but Jin suddenly stops and zeros in on a woman with a curvy woman. “Let’s go talk to her. I’ll die if I don’t” he says and MC gets dragged along with.

Jin: MC, this is important. Look at that lady selling flowers over there. She’s very curvy

Chapter 13  Some Jin backstory on why he never draws his sword. On the anniversary of the Bloodstained Rose Day, MC follows Jin, who’s holding a bouquet of flowers, to a little clearing with headstones. 10 years ago, he mercy killed a girl who was close to death, despite swearing to never take a life. This act was witnessed by the girl’s older brother who he thought was already dead. The boy crawls toward Jin with hatred in his eyes, swearing that he’ll kill Jin, but then gets buried under some rubble. The sword that Jin carries now was the same sword he used to kill the girl and he carries it as a reminder of what happened all those years ago. MC cries for him and Jin comforts her, saying that tears won’t change the past.

Chapter 14 Jin taking care of MC MC: Let’s go home. *cuts to tavern* How did this happen Jin gets surrounded by a group of attractive women who belittle MC by calling her a child and say that she should drink some milk instead. Annoyed, MC chugs hers and Jin’s drink, and then passes out. One of the women calls for a carriage to take MC home, and even though Jin misses the company of women, he can’t seem to leave her alone, so he has to decline the offer of spending time with the women.

Passionate Love Chapter 24-25 MC and Jin make a bet on who’d achieve their dream first. MC’s dream was to open a book store at the border of Rhodolite and Obsidian where she would loan books at an affordable price, thus making educational resources available to Obsidian. If MC won, she’d want to become Jin’s lover. If Jin won, she would grant him one request. Jin’s goal...I think was bringing peace between Rhodolite and Obsidian? Because when MC received news of a peace treaty being signed between the two countries, she realizes that she lost the bet. Jin calls out to her while she’s outside of her store/home to collect his reward. He first asks for three wishes which she shoots down immediately. MC thinks that Jin will ask for her to leave him alone, but he asks for her to be his lover. He confesses that he’s afraid to love because of what happened with his parents, but what scares him more is not being able to love MC.

While the true love route’s sweet, I think I prefer the passionate love end haha I’m such an M. True love end’s like after Jin’s crowned as king and MC says her goodbyes. A few days later, Sariel tells Jin that after suffering throughout his life because of love, he’s allowed to have a love he can believe him. Jin realizes what a fool’s he’s been and runs to MC.

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

Clavis’ route I love tsuntsun MC who doesn’t take shit from Clavis.

I am so biased toward Clavis, how am I supposed to pick favorite moments when I love the whole route. The fact that Clavis is such a national disaster, townspeople scatter when they see him always gets me.

Chapter 16-17 Sariel charged Clavis with kidnapping MC and letting a prisoner escape. MC and Clavis were brought back to the place on separate carriages. Sariel had asked MC for her story. Back at the palace, in the throne room, Sariel interrogates Clavis but is interrupted by Chevalier who kicks Sariel out. Chevalier and Clavis have a long talk concerning Clavis’ recent actions, how he’s being Gilbert’s pawn, and how he’s going to get himself killed. Clavis being Clavis dismisses Chevalier’s words. Before he leaves, Chevalier tells Clavis what MC told Sariel in the carriage.

Chapter 18 A knight alerts Clavis that a place (his room) is under attack (being broken into by Sariel), so Clavis leaves MC, Leon, and Nokto to his questionable breakfast. Leon’s enjoying the food and Nokto probably thinking “Why am I here”. Suddenly there’s an explosion in the distance that surprises MC but Leon’s still stuffing his face and Nokto’s still (-_-)

True Love Chapter 23 Leading Obsidian refugees that Clavis rescued to the Rhodolite border, he and MC are greeted by Chevalier with an army. Chevalier draws his sword but Clavis is frozen in place. MC steps in between the two brothers and Chevalier points his sword at MC’s throat. Clavis grabs Chevalier’s sword with his bare hands and pulls MC away. He scolds MC for trying to confront Chevalier but MC snaps back and tries to get him out of his funk.

True Love Chapter 24 CLAVIS ESTABLISHES THE LELOUCH KINGDOM  Passionate Love Chapter 24 MC’s trying to stop Chevalier from killing Clavis. She lists off reasons why he still needs Clavis, but Chevalier is well aware of Clavis’ value to him. However, he will kill Clavis the moment he poses a threat to Rhodolite.

And later on when going to rescue Clavis, the moment when Clavis’ hands shake while tending to MC’s neck wound from Gilbert while also checking her for any other wounds as she’s covered in blood (thanks to her being in the same room as Chevalier who was slaughtering Obsidian solders).  (͒˃̩̩⌂˂̩̩ ͒)

Lastly, a minor moment. By picking the passionate love route, we witness the TWO times MC and Clavis have held hands. The CG in chapter 1 and the CG in chapter 25.

[plaidbooks]

I saw something on Pinterest that Tinkerbell said: "If you have to choose between me and her, choose her. Because if you really loved me, there wouldn't be any other choice." I was wondering if reader could say that to barba bc he was choosing between her or yelina?

Too High of a Price

A/N: This fic takes place just after Rafael and reader graduate Harvard (so, they’re in their early/mid 20s). This is also an angst with no happy ending. But! I can be convinced to write a part 2 with a happier ending. I...may have thought about it already. Anyways, enjoy.

Tags: angst, fighting about expenses, cheating

Words: 1237

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @shroomiehomie @glimmerglittergirl @alwaysachorusgirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandplaid @detective-giggles @prurientpuddlejumper @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @madamsnape921 @dianilaws @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

You had thought that cramming for Finals, preparing for the JD, and prepping for the bar put a serious strain on yours and Rafael’s relationship. And once you both passed, you were hoping that you could both move in together—start your lives. That everything would calm down. But oh, how wrong you were.

“Raf, what’s this charge for $1400?” you asked, furious.

He glanced at you. “I bought a new suit, since now I’m in the DA’s office in Brooklyn—”

“We don’t have the funds for that! We’re barely able to afford our apartment!”

“It was a necessary purchase! I have to dress for the job!”

You rolled your eyes. “You have three suits! We need to save—” “I know, okay! I know!” he roared back. You both stood, glaring at each other. Finally, Rafael sighed. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to yell. Let’s just…. It’s late; let’s go to bed.”

“I-I can’t see you right now, Raf. I’m sleeping on the couch,” you replied, already exhausted. This wasn’t the first fight about money, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. After Harvard, you both found a cheap apartment. And while Rafael had found a job with the DA’s office, you were having a much harder time. Plus, the fact that he had struggled too; this DA’s job was a godsend.

“Fine, okay. I have work tomorrow morning; can we talk afterwards? Please?” he muttered, looking as tired as you felt.

“Yeah. Sure.” At this point, you just wanted to get to sleep. Rafael nodded, heading towards the bedroom. You grabbed the extra blanket you kept in the hall closet and made yourself comfortable on the couch. But you couldn’t sleep, the fight still fresh in your mind. So instead, you thought about your relationship with Rafael.

You had met in your second year at Harvard, both of you falling hard for each other. You had been in the honeymoon phase for so long, only snapping at each other when you were stressed with schoolwork. But you loved him deeply, and he loved you, too.

Ever since you started living together, though—outside of your separate dorm rooms and actually together—it seemed like nonstop fighting. Sure, you still loved each other, but with money being tight, and job hunting failing, your relationship was filled with stress and screaming. It didn’t help that Rafael still talked to his ex-girlfriend, Yelina. She had dumped him for his best friend about a year before he met you, and a small part of you thought that you were a rebound.

Rafael would take long breaks from talking to her—in fact, he never reached out. It was always Yelina that got into contact with him. But if her name flashed on his phone with an incoming call, he would always take it. And asking him about it just led to more fighting. Truth be told, you missed the “easy” days in college, back when you and Rafael were so enchanted with each other. Nowadays, you hardly touched each other outside of a quick peck goodbye, or cuddling in bed while you slept.

 ********************

You woke up when you heard Rafael moving around the apartment, but you pretended to sleep through it. You could tell he was trying to keep quiet, his footsteps soft. You didn’t want to talk to him yet, though—you were still mad about him buying a new suit, especially without discussing it with you first. If he had been hiding that from you, what else could he be hiding?

The front door opened and closed, the lock turning from the outside. You waited for the footsteps to disappear down the hall before you sat up. You headed for the shower, letting the hot water run over you. And then, you hit the web, trying to find anyone hiring Harvard grads.

After sending off a few applications, you sat back, thinking about Rafael. Were you really mad at him for buying the suit? Or were you upset that he felt the need to hide it from you? Not discussing it with you beforehand. And was it really that big of a deal?

Sighing and feeling guilty, you decided to make and bring Rafael lunch—an olive branch. You didn’t plan on hashing things out at his work, but you thought it’d be nice to eat lunch together, to show him you weren’t mad anymore.

 ********************

You showed up to the DA’s offices, a paper bag in hand. You hadn’t texted him beforehand, hoping to surprise Rafael. But his cubicle was empty. Leaving the bag on his desk, you asked the paralegal that sat next to him if she had seen him.

“Oh, Rafael? He went to the bathroom. Down that hall and to the left,” she replied happily. You thanked her and headed off in the direction she indicated. The bathroom was a single toilet, and the door was locked.

You were debating if you should knock or not when you heard a noise from inside. You froze; it sounded suspiciously like…. Placing your ear against the door, you heard it again, and this time, you knew exactly what it was. A muffled moan, and a shushing.

You knocked on the door, face burning. Don’t be Rafael, don’t be Rafael, you thought over and over again. There was silence from within, then a shuffling of clothes. Time seemed to slow as you waited. The heavy lock turned, then the door handle.

A very red-faced Rafael stood in the doorway, his hair mussed and his tie slightly crooked. Your heart stopped when his eyes locked to yours, filled with shame and remorse.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked softly, eyes dropping to look at the floor.

“Who’s in there with you?”

He seemed to shrink in on himself. “N-no one—”

You pushed him out of your way and stuck your head in the bathroom. Yelina stood there, not looking in the least upset about being caught with your boyfriend. Her hair was a mess, and her dress was still hiked up on her hips.

“Oh,” you breathed, pulling your head back out of the bathroom. You wanted to rage, you wanted to rip Rafael apart. But instead, you felt nothing. A hollowness deep in your chest.

You turned to walk away, your mind shutting off, your body on autopilot. “Cariño, wait,” Rafael said, reaching out for you.

“I’m…going to my parent’s place. Don’t try and come over,” you mumbled. “I’ll come pick up my stuff later.”

He called your name, but you didn’t hear it. “Please! I-I made a mistake! Please can we talk about this?”

“If you have to choose between me and her, choose her. Because if you really loved me, there wouldn’t be any other choice,” you said, turning back to look at him. “Besides, it’s obvious that you choose her.”

Rafael had no response as you turned and left the building. Yelina came up behind him, kissing his cheek, and telling him that Alex was out of town, if Rafael wanted to stop by that night to finish what they started. But he didn’t hear her; all he heard was the sound of his relationship dying.

Shrugging Yelina off, he went back to his desk, ignoring the stares he received from his coworkers. But the tears started the moment he saw the paper bag, opening it to find a homemade lunch.

[popatochisssp]

Hello Poppy! I hope you slept well! Here is the reminder you requested to create a mob au hc post like the cowboy post. Have a wonderful day!

Thank you, it’s finally time! I’m gonna put it under a cut immediately because having twenty skeletons makes every post with all of them automatically a long one!

Full disclaimer-- none of the boys are bosses, that falls on the monarch(s) of their universes... but that doesn’t mean they don’t have their own roles to play~

(Warnings: mentions of crime, drugs, violence, sex, brief sexism [probably not the way you’d think] and ableism, plus all the usual mob-tropes I may have forgotten to mention)

Sans (Undertale): He’s a...humble purveyor of items, quality goods produced economically in order to pass those savings on to the crafty consumer who might not want to pay full, exorbitant price for ‘name-brand’ luxuries... Yeah, he’s the ‘you wanna buy a watch?’ guy and he spends most of his days (strategically) wandering around the city looking for customers to hock knockoff, lookalike watches, wallets and bags to. The fuzz know him by name but can never seem to find anything to hold him on, so he’s mostly just a harmless nuisance to be shooed along elsewhere if there’s been any complaints. (He’s real good at making friendly conversation with the law enforcement and keeping all eyes on him, and frankly, if there were any real shady business going on somewhere nearby... well, the cops certainly wouldn’t know about it, too busy hustling him along down the street, now would they?)

Papyrus (Undertale): An upstanding citizen, unlike his brother who’s always in some little trouble with the law or other. He is gainfully employed at a fitness center, and he commutes there by car, because paid for his license to operate one and practiced his driving skills and saved up until he could afford a very beautiful, shiny car of his own! It’s a very nice vehicle...so nice, even, that he doesn’t like to drive it for...recreational outings with friends, in case the paint might get scuffed. That’s why his friends let him borrow their cars when they go out, and let him drive very fast (but safely!) all over the city, even at strange hours or by ‘suspicious’ locations. He’s certainly never seen anything suspicious going on, he just waits outside, and if he happens to keep a First Aid kit in his glove-box, that’s just taking precautions, isn’t it? Accidents happen, you know! (He’s the best getaway driver in town and he knows it, but plausible deniability--the less he ‘knows,’ the better.)

Sky (Underswap Sans): Just your average, ordinary businessman, running a nice little bar for average, ordinary folks of all kinds. Well... he co-owns the place with a buddy of his, Grillby, but Grillbz is a free spirit and a real man about town, so really most of the ‘running’  is down to him. And he loves it! So many people (monsters and humans) to meet and chat with and serve... human food and alcohol, of course. Monster food and alcohol isn’t legalized yet to serve to humans, and a black mark like that against his little establishment would be just awful. He adheres fully to the rules and regulations set forth by human governmental agencies, no magic in anything he passes across the counter, skeleton’s honor! ...Total bullshit, obviously-- he’s running a speakeasy for humans who want to partake in a little monster food or booze, because it’s not harmful to humans and that makes it an even stupider regulation than prohibition was. Grillby taught him most of the menu and cooks on the rare occasions he’s in, while Sky handles the liquid menu and keeps an eye-socket out for snitches and inspectors trying to catch him in the act. He’s never missed a rat yet.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He works at his brother’s place. In the back. Only part-time, though, Sky’s got it mostly buttoned up there, so Paps has a lot of leisure time to wander around the city, hit up his favorite joints, chat with friends--and strangers that can become friends, he’s a friendly sorta guy. And if he’s ever seen sharing a cigarette or two with one of those friends, of course it’ll be a totally normal tobacco cigarette, and no exchange of money or anything else incriminating about the interaction. ...Doggo is the one that does the deals, he’s got the Dog Treat supply and a client base that’s steadily starting to include humans--but since Dog Treats are classed as Monster Consumables and illegal to distribute to humans, in spite of being non-addictive, only mildly affective, and non-irritant to lungs, things get a little more convoluted. Paps hits up Doggo at Muffet’s (a wholly monster establishment) for the Dog Treats and a client list, ‘refurbishes’ the Treats to resemble cigarettes, and then meets up with anybody who prepaid for their order real casual-like to fence ‘em. He gets a little cut of the profits, and a discount when he’s picking up for pleasure instead of business--like a (slightly) more illegal girl scout cookie racket.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Him? He’s just an average joe in all respects. He’s got a little auto shop, spends his days tuning up cars and bikes and such as the like, and most evenings out having fun with anybody else who’s out looking to have a good time--food and drink and maybe a little gambling, but small games, low stakes, for charity, yanno? Nothing illegal, he’d freely assure anyone concerned about the law. Yep, he’s a perfectly normal, law-abiding citizen...as far as anyone can tell. If he does a little work on the side, when specifically requested to, by perhaps one of his monarchs or one of the parties they’d approved to ask for his...services... Well, he’s certainly too quick and clean about it to leave any hard evidence behind, and he’s always far away from...whatever may have happened...with too many witnesses all in agreement that he was there and couldn’t have been anywhere else, unless he could somehow make it across town in the blink of an eye. (His side-gig is as a hitman. He keeps his shortcut ability very tightly under wraps to make for perfect alibis, and takes his targets out with magic bullets which he can disappear afterwards. If he’s ever somehow implicated in anything, he’s happy to point out to the nice officers that he doesn’t even own a weapon. They’re free to look, but all they’ll find is a set of knuckledusters he keeps on his person, purely for protection--and look how shiny the brass is, never even been used, officers! Guess they’ve got nothing on him, after all...)

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): A law-abiding citizen. He must be--surely one can’t get more law-abiding than a lawyer...right? He actually does keep his (lack of) nose clean, but studying the convoluted mess that is human law doesn’t leave time for much else--even when your studies are funded by royalty and you’re given everything you need to open up your own practice as soon as you’ve passed the bar. Still, his skill and knowledge in arguing the law is very valuable and his services are in high demand, so he’s well-compensated for his chosen career and lives his life outside of it both comfortably and legally. His clients...are innocent until proven guilty and it would be an extreme failing of his duty to give any of them anything less than his best in the courtroom, regardless of their character, their associations, and what they happen to have been accused of. (Yeah, he’s a mob lawyer, used almost exclusively by Asgore and Toriel to protect them and anyone they send to him and all of their collective...interests. He respects the law, but values justice above it, so in spite of having a lot of clients who are definitely criminals in one way or another, he has no trouble sleeping at night.)

Mal (Swapfell Sans): He’s an accountant, nothing more, nothing less. ...For Toriel, of course, so he’s paid well for his services. And he has quite a head for numbers and figures, so he plays the stock market and does quite well there, too, smart investments and reading the writing on the wall, and all that. It’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for his very healthy finances and his lavish lifestyle--fur coats, fine suits, fancy cars, shiny gold pocket-watches-- it’s all expensive and almost over the top, but hey, he is the money-man and all the numbers check out. It seems that he’s just very good at handling and investing his capital, it’s no wonder the monster-queen herself hired him on... (He is, of course, running several money laundering schemes at any given time, taking all the less-than-legally-obtained money earned by constituents of the [former] Empire and layering it through official channels to make it look legal in such a convoluted, complex web that it doesn’t raise any significant red flags. He’s got his claws in a lot of pies, and he takes what he needs off the top to live a little luxuriously, with Toriel’s knowledge and permission-- a perk for the necessary service he provides.) Whatever else may be true, it’s a simple fact that he’s very, very good at his job.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): With the lucrative career his brother has, the lucky SOB doesn’t have to work a day in his life if he doesn’t want to, but he’s using the safety net to pursue his passion in art. Subjective as it is, it’s hard to say if he’s really any good, but people seem to like what he produces well-enough--not a household name, but people passionate about the subject might recognize his work and his pieces sell with at least moderate success. For all that it’s probably not going to make him famous or rich(er than his brother), he’s dedicated to his craft and regularly makes bulk purchases of his supplies, canvas and reams of paper and paint and ink and the like, to keep up his steady work and art sales. He seems like an altogether normal and down-to-earth sort of guy, nothing suspicious about him at all. (He’s a counterfeiter and works in tandem with his brother--they even hit a Bureau together to lift a set of plates for the one and only active crime he was involved in--and his art is just a really good cover for why he needs so much ink and paper and other supplies on a regular basis. He does love and care about his art career, that part’s not fake, but he’s also got a good eye-socket for detail and steady hands to replicate it, and if fake human money that looks really real can help monsters, he doesn’t really see why he shouldn’t.)

Slate (Horrortale Sans): He’s...been through a lot. All monsters have, really, but he was hit kind of especially hard and... Whatever Gerson, or Undyne, or whoever’s running things now up on the Surface are getting involved in...he doesn’t really want any part of it. He gets regular stipends for some unspecified ‘service’ he performed for the Queen, Underground, and while no human (alive) knows what that was, it’s apparently enough to live off of relatively comfortably without being employed himself. He has a nice little place with his brother on the outskirts of the city and he lives there quietly, peacefully. He rarely goes into town, just the occasional walkabout, stopping at restaurants or scoping out the architecture. (Part of his one concession to being left out of whatever illegal, mob-type business may or may not be going on: he needs a good mental map of the city and at least a few landmarks that he’ll definitely remember, because he’s the emergency evac should...anything...go especially south. The house phone doesn’t ring too often in the middle of the night, but when it does, he needs to know where he needs to be, and quick.)

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He’s, ah... not involved in any ‘business’ either, but he does spend a little more time out of the house, at the local hospital. He was allowed to make a study of human medicine and become a nurse by Very Special Exception--mostly due to some friends (or at least one) in high places, and some very backwards human attitudes about parts that constitute a ‘man’ and how a skeleton without any parts could perhaps be allowed into nursing--and he’s proven himself a valuable member of staff and even made friends with all of his coworkers. He’s happy at his job, and with his life, and returns home to his quiet, peaceful house every night with a smile. (He has a go-bag ready by the phone for those late night calls, though, full of healing items and medical equipment he may have subtly nicked from the hospital, just so he has everything he needs to treat a monster or a friendly human that may have gotten hurt...somehow...and for reasons they have no need to specify, can’t risk going to a doctor.)

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Just a poor street musician...or at least, that’s what most people figure, ‘cause he doesn’t dress too well and the trombone he plays while sitting out on the sidewalk looks like it’s probably the nicest thing he owns. He gets a couple bucks from time to time, but rarely any second glances, and that... That works in his favor. You’d be surprised how much people talk about when they think nobody’s listening (or at least...nobody important) and he can pick up a lot of interesting information of what’s going on in the city just by setting up in the right spot and waiting for folks to talk business. He’s pretty quiet when he’s not tooting the ol’ horn and great at blending into the background, and that’s made him the guy to go to when you want to know something--like how much somebody else knows, or if there are any plans in place for say, a raid or a sting or some kind. (Law enforcement is the worst about keeping proprietary information ‘proprietary’ when they think their only audience is some nobody monster bum sleeping on a bench...) He’s also got something of a whole information network going on with the actual homeless people in the city, since he gives great tips about places who are hiring or somewhere to get a meal or a bed for the night and he always gives his earnings from busking to those who need it more than him. He’s paid for the service he provides and he’s got a home to go back to, it just seems right that the music-money goes to help somebody else.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He works as a nanny for the Queen! Not too long ago, she might’ve opted to just stay home and look after her newly adopted child herself, while Asgore handled business with the humans, but... They’re freshly split now, and Toriel wants to be just as involved in things as Asgore as much as she wants to s l o w l y ease into being a full-time mother again. Yrus is the solution, already fond of little Frisk and a very warm and trustworthy soul who stayed bright even in the gloom of the Underground. He happily takes the job when asked and splits his time between supervising and caring for Frisk, and tutoring them in all the important subjects (math, history, magic, et cetera). He finds he has a passion for teaching and thinks he might go into that someday, when Frisk is older and Toriel has a little more time and confidence to no longer need him as a buffer. (Whatever it is, specifically, that takes up so much of Toriel’s time and keeps her out so late that he sometimes has to wait around well past Frisk’s bedtime for her to come back and ask after them... Yrus couldn’t fathom a guess and isn’t going to ask any questions. That would definitely be out of his scope as a simple child-minder and even if he knew anything, it would be an extreme violation of the family’s privacy for him to tell tales, which he’s happy to point out to anyone with a lot of questions for somebody so close to two of the Dreemurrs.)

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): He’s on his brother’s payroll. It seemed like the best way to kill two birds with one stone: he’s a big, scary-looking wall of bone who isn’t well suited to a regular-joe sorta job, and his bro’s a very high-profile guy who needs somebody big and scary-looking to stand next to him and be a deterrent. Nepotism, maybe, but they’ve been looking after each other their whole lives already and it’s something Brick knows he can do--he’d do it for free, but if King thinks it’s better (and safer) to have it as his job description, he’s probably right, so Brick’ll take the paycheck for it. King’s also very likely the only one who could stop him if he...lost control...somewhere out and about, so sticking close to him makes Brick feel better and hey, maybe they’re actually killing three birds with this stone of an arrangement. Still, he mostly just goes about town with King, standing around and watching his back and staring people down when he needs to while his brother carries on with his conversations and business. He hardly ever has to do anymore than that...almost never. (One of his favorite places to go is a little hole-in-the-wall craft shop, where King always pretends to take longer than he needs so Brick can peruse the yarn and try to pick up a little sign language from the nice old deaf lady who owns the place.)

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Yes, yes, he’s very high profile--he did lead monsterkind for a time, getting everyone up to the Surface and settled there--but he’s since stepped down. He’s retired, and anything his successor may be involved in... surely, he couldn’t say. He and Toriel are barely in contact and the money he receives from her on the regular is a gift of goodwill, mostly for medical expenses (his leg, and his brother’s...well). All he does these days is collect for a charity, a pet project of his, Monster Reparations. Lots of people give such generous donations when he goes around to ask for them, maybe impressed a little by his fame, but he can’t feel too terribly about using it for such a worthy cause... (It’s a thinly veiled protection racket and the people and businesses who buy into it tend not to fall victim to ‘mysterious’ criminal activity. Toriel may be officially calling the shots now, but King, as the monster who put her back there, is in a very unique position of power in having her ear, an unofficial underboss totally off the books. Some ‘donate’ more than necessary when he comes collecting, hoping to earn preferential treatment, and sometimes they get it and sometimes they don’t--it’s entirely down to King’s opinion of them personally. ...The old woman who runs the craft store pays about half the going rate, and the immigrant who imports the miniature trees he likes gets a heavy discount, too. The deli-owner he overheard hurling discriminatory epithets at a customer, however, pays triple. You get the idea.)

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a researcher. Highly confidential, he’s sworn to secrecy and even mentioning that he’s being funded by Elder King Shroomba is pushing the boundaries of what he’s allowed to talk about. Still, he has his own facility, and several assistants, monster volunteers and sometimes human ones--but they have to sign papers swearing not to talk about what goes on in the lab, too. From what they are allowed to say, the gist is just that it didn’t seem like anything sinister was going on; not even a blood-draw... Merc seems pretty happy to leave at the end of every day, though, and whenever it comes up, he talks very fondly about being able to finish the project. (He’s researching DT, specifically how it can be used to enhance monster physiology and make them more resistant to damage from intent. Merc’s misadventure with DT destabilized him, but from 1HP he’s now more durable than ever, and his second attempt with his brother had less dramatic but still noticeable and successful results. The king wants that safety net for more monsters, especially ones who are on the front lines of...potentially less than legal dealings...who could really be at risk. Merc is reluctant, but with the stipulation of informed, willing volunteers for DT extraction and infusion, he can’t bring himself to turn down the resources and funding to research his own condition and bring the possibility of being normal again ever closer. He still has a hard time with the idea of ‘enhancing’ monsters, but the fact that it’s at least being done safely, willingly, and with a whole team behind it this time helps a lot.)

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): He’s in a wheelchair but not letting it keep him down, and he’s running a modest little newspaper stand on the corner--papers and magazines and cheap books--nothing all that special but boy, what an inspiration, good for him that he’s got a job and can run the place by himself! All kinds come and go from his stand, and sometimes he closes it up for a little bit in the middle of the day to take a...er...roll, with some people who must be friends of his, but he’s never gone too long, so nobody says anything to the poor guy about the inconvenience. He’s a dedicated businessman, or trying to be; won’t even let people help him with those heavy-looking boxes of deliveries he gets, and for a fella with no legs, he seems to be doing his best! (...The whole thing is a low-key smuggling operation and he is making bank off it. There’s a system of code-words in place related to the publications he sells for a ‘customer’ to indicate whether they’re buying or selling, and what--magic consumables, stolen/hot items, imported goods, the works--and where and when they want things to go down. There’s even hidden compartments in his custom-built wheelchair for some of the riskier stuff, because he knows no cop in their right mind would force a guy with no legs out of his chair just to search it with witnesses around. And that’s presuming any law enforcement were to even catch wise to his set-up, which he kind of doubts: he’s sly and subtle and even if he weren’t, he knows people see the chair before they see him. Why not take advantage of that?)

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He makes his living as a boxer, and a subsequent minor celebrity. Pretty much any match he’s in is an exhibition match--not just a monster, not just a little guy (...relatively), but a short skeleton monster who’s blind, wow! You don’t see that every day, that’s a spectacle! Plenty of ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s in the packed stands every night the sightless skeleton scrapper is in the ring and nobody can figure out how he bobs and weaves so well that he hardly ever gets hit. He loses some matches, that’s to be expected, even for a ‘normal’ fighter, but hey, people love an underdog story, so when he wins, it’s an uproar every time. (For his part, Pitch hates most of his ‘fans’ who think of him the same way they probably think of a silly little dog who learned a funny trick, but the fame in general, and the thrill of the fight... Those are enough to keep him in the ring. Just... maybe not quite enough to keep him fighting clean. He’s as dirty as sportsmen come and he and a few other monsters regularly play his own odds with the bookies: he’ll subtly use magic to cheat and stay in longer, or go down when he could easily keep fighting, whatever’s more profitable with the over/under from match to match. If he’s going to be a circus act doing what he loves, he may as well get hazard pay for his dignity... and y’know, a couple of idiots who think being able to fight is a ‘trick’ because you’re blind aren’t nearly so annoying when you’re being driven away from them in a luxury car, to your expensive house in the hills decked out with all the amenities.)

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s got a place he looks after, keeps things running. Just a small joint, nothing fancy, a little cabaret variety show type place--singing, dancing, drinks on tap, that kinda thing. After dark, some of the...performances... might get a little more risqué, stuff that titillates like burlesque and striptease, but rest assured, his permits are all in order and everything’s on the up and up. Nothing illegal whatsoever going on here, just a bit of singing and dancing and everybody having a good time. (Most of the performers are sex workers--monsters, but some humans too--and patrons can negotiate private shows or off-the-clock ‘meetings’ at their discretion. Nemo opts to not know too much of the details of what his dancers do when he’s not looking, for legal reasons, but he makes sure they have a safe place to do it, are paid for their services, and don’t have repeat problem-patrons if any slip through. Being one of the gentlemen running such an establishment in the city that doesn’t happen to touch or steal from or mistreat the performers, his place is the place to get hired if that’s your line of work. He’s mostly just happy to be able to provide the job security and the job safety for a group that really seems to catch a lot of hell up here on the Surface just for how they make their money.)

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): He’s a busy guy, bouncing around from place to place, job to job... Being so scattered, you might think he’d be having money troubles by now, but while he may not be the type to stick with one thing and stay there for a good few years, nobody who knows him would say he’s unreliable--he’s the type of guy that you can give him a call anytime and if you need help, he’ll be right over, and he’ll get the job done well, too! Of course he lives with his fancypants brother, and the King and Queen probably spot him a loan or two now and then, since they’re friendly, so all in all, no one really wonders how he makes enough money to live so comfortably. The answer’s right there in their face...isn’t it? (Yes and no. He is the kind of guy you can call anytime to get a job done, and he will do it well, but the money he gets from Asgore and Toriel is less of a ‘loan’ and more of a ‘payment for services rendered.’ He’s a cleaner, the guy you call to make things go away, things that aren’t supposed to be there: stains, papers, weapons, evidence... He’ll get rid of it for you, and if you need a convincing coverup or an alibi for...whatever it is that you weren’t there doing, he’ll take care of that, too. If somebody’s calling him up for his special brand of help, they probably just want to put it all behind them and forget all about that nasty business. He’s happy to facilitate--after all, what are friends for?)

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Like his brother, he gets on well with the King and Queen. (They both feel like they’ve known the monarchs much longer than they actually have...somehow...) But in any case, unlike his brother, Aster is very well-organized and thoughtful, so he’s a natural choice as an...advisor, of sorts, when monsters surfaced and it was...decided that perhaps there would be some...activities and...ways of doing things that...should remain unknown to the humans. Not unknown to Aster: he keeps track of everything, reminding the monarchs of little details they may have forgotten, pointing out things they may not have noticed, making educated suggestions for courses of action with likely positive outcomes based on past experiences... He’s the linchpin between Asgore and Toriel that makes them terrifyingly more efficient than they would be without him, a consigliere-equivalent who certainly isn’t a boss himself, but he has the bosses’ trust and their ears and that makes him a person of great interest. But...no one can get anything useful out of him: he’s loyal, above all, and much as he values truth, he also realizes that perhaps not everyone deserves to know the full truth of everything, especially not those who might use that truth to bring some sort of harm or misfortune to his friends...or to monsterkind at large. ...And trying to directly seize his extensive notes on the private and personal business-doings of the Dreemurrs is an even more doomed endeavor--he writes them all in a strange jumble of symbols that no one’s ever seen, and the code-breakers never have it long enough to decipher anything useful before its back in his hands, reclaimed quite speedily after unlawful seizure of private property containing confidential information. Lots of well-meaning law enforcement have their sights set on him as some sort of criminal white whale, but the simile is all too accurate-- they’ll never catch him, and even if they do, there’ll be nothing to hold him on. He simply has too many friends (and family members) in very high, very useful places.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Mystery Of Pixie Hollow by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1/11

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Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic

Chapter 1: Neverland

Emma stood at the register, a pile of coins and dollar bills sitting in front of her as she began counting her tips. She had been working nonstop for the last three weeks to save every dime she earned in order to take Henry on a special treat for his birthday. He had seen the flyer in the window of the diner after school one day, immediately calling the carnival to her attention. A traveling amusement park themed to the story of Peter Pan was visiting their town. Henry hadn’t stopped asking questions about it since.

Do fairies really exist?

Can Peter Pan actually fly?

If I really believe do you think I can fly when I’m there too?

With his birthday approaching, Emma knew the best birthday gift she could give him was a trip to the park when it came to town. It was only visiting for three days, and Henry had been completely gutted when they fell on Emma’s weekend at the diner. He had been putting on his best face when she got home from work, her feet tired from standing all day, reciting to her his day, and trying to pretend that he wasn’t disappointed after sitting all day listening to the sounds of the park lofting through his window.

She could barely contain her secret last night when she tucked him into bed, and he told her that he got to spend the day watching Peter Pan skip through the park and it was just as good as being there.

Henry was such a sweet boy, he never asked for things he knew he couldn’t have. He knew that money was tight for them. Emma had been on her own ever since she gave birth to the boy, his father was long out of the picture before he was even born. It wasn’t that the boy was ever without something important, Emma made sure that she saved her money to spend it on things he needed, and when she couldn’t afford it, her best friend, Will Scarlet always pitched in to help her out.

Which was what had happened with Henry’s birthday gift this year. Emma had saved almost enough for the admission price but knew that Henry would want tickets to ride the rides and play a few games, and of course Will tossed some money into the pot, so that the three of them could enjoy the last day of the park together.

“Did you save enough?” She turned to see her boss Mrs. Lucas approach her from the kitchen.

“I made $25 bucks today, I should be able to get him some dinner while we are there.” She said with a smile.

“Get him something from me too while you’re there.” She responded as she held out her hand, a white envelope in her palm. “It’s his birthday after all.”

Emma tentatively took the envelope, lifting the top to see a crisp $20 bill tucked inside. “Gran, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but it’s his birthday, just be sure to tell him it’s from Gran.” She reached out and hugged the woman, a smile growing on her face. The bell above the door made a sound and they both turned to see the customer walk into the diner. “Get out of here, you’re off the clock.”

Emma looked at her watch. “I still have ten minutes left in my shift.”

The woman shook her head and pulled out her notepad to assist the man who sat down at the counter. “Clock must be slow.” She said with a grin. “Get out of here. Take that boy of yours on an adventure.”

“Thank you, see you tomorrow.” She hollered back as she ran out the door to her yellow bug parked outside the diner. She couldn’t wait to get home and tell Henry they were going to Pixie Hollow.

When she opened the door to her apartment, Henry was running circles around the couch as Will chased him through the living room. “You can’t get away from me, mate.”

“You’re too old to catch me.” Henry hollered and Will stopped in his tracks and grabbed his chest.

“Oi, that was quite rude.” He said in a feigned outrage. “I’m not that old.”

Emma laughed and they both turned toward her. “Mom!” Henry ran and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“The lad is being hurtful on his birthday.” Will scoffed.

“Tell your Uncle Will that you’re sorry for calling him old.” She leaned over and whispered. “But say it loudly because his hearing isn’t what it used to be.” Henry fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

“You know he gets his mean spirted nature from you, right?” Will complained.

“We love you.” She teased as she ran her hand through his short locks and pinched his cheek. She turned and faced Henry.

“Why are you home? I thought you had to work tonight.”

“I wanted to surprise you!” She grinned. “Thought maybe we could go see this Peter Pan you keep talking about.”

Henry’s face brightened. “Seriously? Oh my God.” He squealed “You mean it?”

“Happy birthday, baby.” She smiled. The boy launched himself into her arms. “Ok we gotta get ready to go, get your jacket in case it gets cold after the sun goes down.”

Henry disappeared in a fury to his room to collect his jacket, just as Will’s phone rang.

“Don’t answer it.” Emma protested as he held up the phone and Will groaned.

“It’s work, I can’t ignore it.” Emma groaned as he greeted his boss, a chorus of “Yes, sir” “I know, sir” “Of course, sir.” Carried through the room.

“Yes but I was planning to…” He frowned. “I understand, of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He said sadly. Henry came bounding into the room as he disconnected the call.

“You’re going in to work now?” Emma complained.

“I’m sorry Em, it can’t be helped. They had some sort of emergency, and they need me there right away.”

“So, we aren’t going?” Henry said sadly, looking up between them. Will hesitated, staring between the two. Emma knew he wouldn’t disappoint Henry if it couldn’t be helped.

“I’m sorry lad, I don’t have a choice.”

“We’re still going Henry.” Emma announced.

“Emmie, you can’t go alone.” Will began to protest.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Stop it, I’m an adult. I don’t need you to babysit me everywhere we go.”

“I’m not there to babysit you, I just don’t like it when you and Henry are out late at night without someone else with you.”

“Without a man with me, you mean. I don’t know if you realize this yet, but I don’t need a man, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Are you sure you two will be alright?”

Emma chuckled. “I think I can handle a carnival for children on my own.”

“Alright, but text me when you get there, and again when you get home.”

“Ok dad.” She teased and he slapped her playfully on the arm.

“Happy birthday, Bub.” He picked the boy off the ground and squeezed him. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“That’s impossible.” The boy replied.

“Did I tell you that you’re my favorite six-year-old out of all the six-year-old kids out there?”

“But I just turned six. You don’t even know all the six-year-old kids.” Henry wined with a playful smile.

“I don’t have to because you’re still my favorite.”

“You said that when I was five.”

“And I’ll say it when you’re seven or fifteen.” Will said as he sat the boy back on the ground.

“I love you, Uncle Will.”

“Love you too Bub.” He raised his hand, and they exchanged their ridiculous handshake that they had made up when Henry had turned four.

Two taps, spin around, tap down low, shake your booty, tap up high.

It was ridiculous and heartwarming and a reminder of how lucky she was to have such an amazing best friend. Even when she showed up on his doorstep, a positive pregnancy test in her hand, tears streaming down her face, Will simply pulled her into his arms and promised he would always be there for her. Over the years he had been her shoulder to cry on, her Lamaze coach, her sounding board, and her support system. Even with the one drunken misstep that neither of them ever spoke of again, there wasn’t anyone that Emma relied on more than Will.

“Ok I’m off, have fun tonight.” He smiled and left through the front door. As soon as the door closed Henry jumped up and down in front of her.

“Can we go now?” Emma chuckled and pushed him toward the door.

“Of course, let’s go.”

“You have to say it mom.”

“Say what?” She asked, confused on what he was meaning.

“Second star to the right.” He began excitedly.

“And straight on til morning.” She continued as they closed the door to the apartment and made their way to the park across the street. The lights shone bright into the sky with all the rides and attractions that had their own music playing all around them as soon as they entered the park.

Henry could barely contain his excitement as he bounced about from ride to ride. More than once Emma had to remind him to stay close by, not to get too far ahead of her, but the boy was hard to be contained.

“Mom, look, it’s a house of mirrors, can we go, can we go?” He jumped up and down in front of her.

“Ok, but don’t get too far ahead of me.” Emma laughed as he handed his ticket to the man at the front of the attraction. She didn’t like the way the man glared in her direction, there was something about him that made her uncomfortable in a way that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Henry ran ahead into the building and Emma yelled for him to wait as the man seemed to take an extra-long time to allow her to enter behind her son.

When he finally raised the gate, she ran toward the fun house, entering the building and exhaling when she saw Henry standing at the corner waiting for her. “Come on mom, this is so cool.”

“It’s very cool.” Emma replied, looking around the disorienting room. The mirrors at all angles making it appear that Henry was in more than one place in front of her.

“You could get lost in here for days.” He joked as he stepped into the room, his arms outstretched in front of him to avoid running into anything.

“Let’s try and avoid getting lost, I’m starting to get hungry.” She joked.

“Come on mom, I bet you can’t find which one is really me.” Henry yelled, rushing forward, and turning a corner until she couldn’t see him anymore.

“Don’t get too far ahead of me.” She warned, turning the corner he was just at and seeing three versions of him in front of her. “Ok which one is my Henry?” She questioned as she stepped forward, her hand coming into contact with a mirror. She then touched the one next to her but that was a mirror as well.

“I’m right here.” Her son mimicked, before running around the corner again.

“You’re too good at this.” She chuckled, turning, and chasing after him until she ran into one of the glass mirrors. She really hated this attraction. “Ok Henry, I’m really getting hungry. Which way did you go?”

“I’m over here.” She heard him toward her left and she turned to stumble in that direction as she caught a glimpse of him just as she turned the corner.

“Henry, can you just stay in one place until I get to you.” Her tone was starting to sound agitated as she felt her way through the glass around her, dipping in and out of the crevices until she reached a dead end.

“Henry, where are you?” She yelled.

“Mom.” She heard him shout and then it got quiet.

“Henry?” She hollered toward the last place she heard his voice. She felt her way through the attraction until she heard music and felt the breeze of the outside, stepping through the small doorway, she found herself on the other side from where they entered. She looked around for Henry, but only saw other children, families standing around the exit area.

“Did you see a little boy come out of here?”

“I’ve seen a lot of little boys.” The guy grumbled and wandered away from her.

“Henry, where are you?” She yelled, trying to control her voice as the terror started to race in her heart. “Henry?” She ran toward the entrance and the man who took her ticket. “Where is my son, did he come back out this way?”

The man frowned, “No one comes back out the front ma’am. Did you check the exit?”

“Of course, I checked the exit, you idiot, how else did I get out here!” She yelled and he turned to take a ticket from another family.

“I need you to find my son.” She grabbed at the lapel of his jacket and turned him back toward her.

“Hands off lady.” The man warned. “I’ll get my manager.”

“Good, get your manager. I need to find my son.”

The family tried to push past her, and Emma stood in front of them, blocking the exit. “My son got lost in there.”

“It’s not my problem that you can’t keep an eye on your boy, get out of my daughter’s way.” The man pushed around her, leading his daughter into the entrance of the attraction.

Emma ran after them, and the ticket idiot was on her heels. “You can’t go in there without another ticket.”

Emma shoved his hands off her, “Get off me, I’m going in there until I find my son.” She screamed, wandering back into the fun house, her heart racing as she turned in every direction screaming her son’s name. “Henry, where are you?” She yelled, pushing forward through the maze. There was no response except for the grumbling of the people in front of her who she continued to push aside in her quest to find her son.

When she reached the exit again she immediately screamed his name, grabbing at random strangers to ask if they had seen her son, a photo of him pulled up on her phone. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and she turned quickly to see the ticket asshole with a man. “You can’t go around grabbing our customers.” The man sternly growled at her.

“My son is missing. He went in the hall of mirrors, and he didn’t come out.”

“That’s impossible. There is only one way in and one way out. He must have come out; you’ve just lost him.”

“I didn’t lose him.” She cried. “Don’t you have something you can do. Call the cops, make an announcement, just find my son.”

“Of course, I’m Felix. I’m the assistant manager. Let me make a few calls.” He said with a grin that certainly didn’t set her at ease. There was something off about the man, something menacing and scary, and Emma just wanted to get her son and get the hell away from all of them. “Come with me.” He didn’t ask but tugged at her elbow. “Nothing to see here, she just lost her child.” He announced to the people who had suddenly taken an interest in the commotion.

Emma was too concerned about her child to admonish the bystanders for gawking at her, their looks of contention and disappointment apparent on their faces as if they just watched an irresponsible parent simply leave their child by the side of the road instead of the fact that her son vanished without a trace.

“Ok ma’am can you explain to me what you think happened to your son?” The man closed the door to the trailer and gestured for her to take a seat in the dingy office.

“What I know” she paused, “was that my son and I went into the Hall of Mirrors and when I got to the exit, he wasn’t there.”

“Do you normally let your son run off without you?”

“Excuse me?” She stood up from her seat. “He did not run off without me, he was playing in the goddamn funhouse with me in the room.”

“Yes ma’am so you said, however if he was simply playing with you, then you would know where he was, isn’t that correct?”

Emma was done with this man’s treatment of her, she was done with people not ripping that god forsaken fun house to the ground until they came upon her little boy. She pushed her way past the man and shoved the door open, ignoring his plea for her to stay put. As soon as she stepped out of the trailer, two men approached her.

“Are you the woman who lost her son?”

Emma recognized their badges and the names on them from the Sherriff’s station. “Thank God you are here, these idiots won’t do anything to find my son.”

“I’m officer Nolan, and this is officer Locksley, can you tell me what happened?”

Emma took a deep breath, “My son, Henry, he just turned 6, it’s his birthday today.” Tears started to fall down her cheeks. “We went into the Hall of Mirrors, he was playing hide and seek and trying to get me to find him, but then he called out for me, and I couldn’t find him anymore. When I got to the exit, he wasn’t there, and no one can tell me where he is.”

“So, he wasn’t with you in the Hall of Mirrors?”

“Did you just hear me? I told you we went in together. He was only a few feet in front of me, it’s not like I let my fucking kid just run around alone.”

The man held up his hand. “Alright ma’am, there is no need to get upset.”

“No need to get upset.” She stated, shocked at the audacity this man had standing in front of her like everything was normal that was happening to her. “I lost my son. My baby is out there somewhere, and no one will fucking help me.”

Officer Nolan stepped forward and took her by the elbow. “Ma’am, if you keep cursing in front of the children here, we are going to have to take you down to the station to discuss this matter.”

“Matter!” She yelled. “My son is missing; I don’t give a fuck what you think about my goddamn cursing. Find my son!”

“Is it possible that he simply ran away?” The other man asked.

“Ran away? Why would you even think he would run away?”

“Is his father here with you?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m simply asking if the boy could be with his father.”

Emma shook her head. “No, his father isn’t around. He’s most definitely not with that asshole.”

“So, the situation with the father, it’s contentious then?”

Emma couldn’t believe the crap she was hearing. “This has nothing to do with his father. He’s lost, he’s probably scared and all you can do is sit here and ask me stupid questions that aren’t doing anything to find him.”

The men looked at each other and nodded, Officer Locksley stepped into the trailer and shut the door behind him. “My partner is just going to talk to the manager and find out if they know anything else.”

“He’s the assistant manager and he knows jack shit.” She said as she rolled her eyes.

The door to the trailer opened and he gestured for his partner to join him. They whispered at the door for a moment and then returned in front of her, closing their notebooks. “Ma’am, I’m going to give you my business card, we can’t do anything about a runaway until after 24 hours. If he still hasn’t come home by then, give us a call.”

“I already fucking told you he’s not a goddamn runaway.”

“Ok ma’am, we’re going to have to take you down to the station if you can’t control yourself.” She felt their hands on her arms and she pulled away from them, holding her hands in the air.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Well, you can’t stay here.” He announced, looking back at the ridiculous assistant manager who was glaring at her.

“So, I’m supposed to just leave my kid?”

“Most times, they show up in the morning, a little scared, hungry, and apologetic for causing a scare. Go home and get some sleep, they usually show back up at home.”

Emma couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was just supposed to go home and leave Henry out here, lost. She looked toward the fun house, wanting to make a run back to it, wanting to search frantically for anything she could find, but she knew he wasn’t there. Something had happened to Henry.

“Ma’am. We need you to leave or come with us.” They stepped toward her, and Emma backed up from her spot. She surveyed the crowd and then paused.

“I’m going.” She announced, turning on her heels and storming toward the exit. When she got to her house she climbed the stairs, screaming her son’s name, hoping he would answer and explain that he got lost and simply went home, but the house was still, dark, and ominously quiet. She went into Henry’s room and pulled open the curtains, the lights from the fair spilling into the window. She pulled the chair over to the wall and sat down, staring at the scene in front of her. She would wait there until she found him, until he made his way back to the house.

Looking down at her phone, she sent another text to Will asking him to call her immediately. Pulling a blanket around her she sat and waited.

Henry, where are you?

~*~

Henry woke with a start, a painful beating in his head. He reached up and winced at the swollen knot on the back of his skull. He looked around in the dark, trying to figure out where he was. Just moments ago he was in the Hall of Mirrors with his mom, they were playing a game. He remembered seeing her, just a few feet away and then his back hit something solid and then it moved. Arms reached out and grabbed him and then everything went black.

He felt around on the ground below him, dirt digging into his fingernails. There was a small light coming in from a tiny opening up high in the room. He groaned as he tried to sit up.

“Don’t sit up too quickly, I’m sure you’re dizzy.”

He jumped at the sound of a female in the room. “Who’s there?”

A face came into view, the light streaming into the dark onto her golden hair. “It’s ok, just give it a minute. You can see in the dark after you get used to it.”

“My head hurts.” He groaned.

“It will only hurt for a couple of days. Then it will go away.” The girl moved closer to him, sitting down next to him.

“What do you want with me?”

“I’m a friend, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where are we?”

“Underground. I don’t know really. We move around a lot.”

“Who’s we?”

“Pan’s crew.” The girl said softly, and Henry almost started laughing.

“As in Peter Pan? I must be dreaming. That’s what’s going on. This is a nightmare.”

“I wish it were, but sadly this is real. What’s your name?”

Henry peered at the girl in front of him. “I’m Henry.” Suddenly the shadows moved behind her and he pushed back against the wall.

“Don’t be afraid, they won’t hurt you.”

Henry stared at the faces of the children staring back at him. “Who are you people?”

“We’re the lost ones. Just like you.” She said sadly.

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

just full on bodies you with a semi NEW FIC JUST DROPPED BABES

we are leaving cute high school world and entering pain town. this story will have mentions of self harm and suicidal ideation. Please take care of yourselves and don't engage if that sort of content is triggering to you. (be nice to yourselves, i love you)

The worst year of his life starts out the same as so many good days, it almost makes him dizzy to think back on. He feels, later, that a start to this much torment, this painful, should have begun completely fucking miserable, but it had been just any other day. It starts the same way so many days before it starts. His eyes open. He’s in his bedroom, in his bed, like normal. He’s staring up at his black ceiling, wrapped up in his bedspread. His phone buzzes, and he groans, reaches for it, scans messages. A good morning from Barbara, an unread goodnight from Adam, a text from that talent agency that there was something they could use his voice for. He throws back his blankets, rubs sleep from his eyes, and dresses.

In high school his uniform had been an oversized striped hoodie, but for his birthday a few years ago, Charles had bought him several nice dress pants, suit jackets, and collared shirts, and he’d sort of settled into that as his new everyday. He likes how he looks, because this shit is expensive, custom, made to fit his more generous frame, and both his partners always say he looks handsome in a jacket and tie. (Sometimes Barbara yanks him around by the tie. Sometimes Adam snaps his suspenders.) And besides, his dad had taken his preferences into consideration, because all the pieces he’d been gifted had that pattern he was drawn to, thick black and white stripes that absolutely stand out in a crowd. He dresses quickly, throws on his suit jacket over his pinstriped shirt. He adjusts his tie, and gives a grin. Too many teeth, too sharp, and he waves a hand in front of his mouth, and tries again. Human teeth. There we go, B-Man. He lifts his legs, not especially in the mood to walk, and begins to make his way downstairs, for breakfast. He passes by Lydia’s room, and considers harassing his sister, but he remembers how bad he needed his Saturday sleep-ins at fifteen, and takes pity on her, floating past her door silently.

His father, always an early riser, is already in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee, and Betelgeuse lets his feet hit the floor, so that his heeled boots clack against the kitchen tile.

Charles knows the sound, doesn’t even turn around. “Morning, BJ. Any plans for today?”

His relaxed, not exactly actively working lifestyle is not his dad’s favorite, but he’s got a long time, a lot longer than any other person, to work a job. He's just enjoying the time he gets with all his favorite breathers, before he doesn’t have it anymore. At least, that’s always been his excuse. It's not that he can't find work, or that he’s unhirable to a normal job, it’s that he’s trying to enjoy life. Obviously.

But there's good news this morning.

“Got a text from th’ agency. Some voice work,” he grunts. His insanely gravely voice is not always in high demand, but it's been getting some attention lately, mostly because the last commercial he did voice over for, he had to sing, and the request for more of that has been promising. The big goal is some acting gig, on stage, preferably, but he’d take TV, too. He loves the attention, he loves the rush, he loves entertaining. Unfortunately he’s got a demonic aura that makes breathers nervous on principle. He knows if he could just get a break, he’d have a lot to give… but he’s maybe not working on getting that break as hard as he could be.

“Very nice,” Charles finally turns, and smiles, clearly approving. He sets a cup of coffee in front of his son, and BJ glances at it. “Be a pal and wake your mother up?” “This early? On a Saturday?” He squints. “You tryna take me out via Emily attack?” “We’ve got that check up to go to,” Charles says. “I don’t want to be late.”

He shrugs, takes the cup, and vanishes from sight, appearing upstairs, next to his mother. Emily is still wrapped in the bedsheets, snoring lightly, but he knows the trick to rousing her. The coffee cup is waved around her nose, allowing the aroma to hit her senses, and, eyes still closed, she reaches for it. He pulls the cup back.

“Come on, ma,” he scratches gently at her scalp. “Time to get up.” “Coffeeeee,” she groans, reaching at it blindly again, and he grins, and walks backwards, setting the coffee on the dresser, across the room. “Coffee’s over here, Deetzy,” he tells her, and she finally cracks an eye open, and groans. “Evil. Evil son.” “Yup,” he agrees, easily. “Come on. Chuck says you got some appointments to keep.” His mother groans, and kicks back the sheets, before standing.

He’d been twelve, and herself only about thirty when she’d found him, and now, ten years later, at 40, her age is showing, a little. She’s been growing in gray hair for the past few years, and it hasn’t taken over her natural sunshine yellow, but it’s becoming a bit more noticeable, and the slight lines forming around her mouth and eyes are a new addition to her features. Chuck’s aging in much the same way, but with fewer laugh lines. The hair at his father’s temples is going gray, and if he really looks, he can see the beginnings of salt and pepper in his father’s beard. He doesn’t like looking for it, though, and doesn't like the feeling gnawing in his guts at seeing his parents age. If he had his way, they’d stay frozen in time, the way he probably will. Demons don’t age, past a certain point, and he’s pretty sure he’ll be hitting it, soon enough.

He watches his mother shuffle across the floor, and claim her prize of coffee. She takes a long sip, and then groans. “I don’t want to go to the doctor,” she complains to him, and he pats her shoulder. “I know, ma,” he gives her a very sympathetic smile. “But you gotta. Or Chuckles will throw a fit. It’s just a check up, right? No biggie.” She rubs at her temple, and winces. “Getting old sucks,” she tells him. “I’ve been having the worst headaches, recently.”

When they make it back downstairs, Chuck's got breakfast going, and Lydia is sipping her own coffee. Black, like her heart, she always says. He passes her by and ruffles that mop of long blonde hair. “Beetle breath,” she greets him, as he takes a plate from Charles, and sits to eat.

The voice over work isn't as big a deal as he was hoping. He adjusts his tie, fiddles with the collar of his pinstripe dress shirt, and steps out of the booth. “Fuckin’ peanuts,” he complains, and his agent just shrugs. “Gotta start small, BJ. We need someone to do some crooning for this other comercial, some car sale, or something. You feel like playing Sinatra for a bit?”

Not especially, but he does it anyway, and then meets Adam and Barbara for lunch. Adam’s taking classes for business management, and he’s just about done. He wants to take over his grandpa’s hardware store, outside of the city. Way outside, actually, in some little town in Connecticut. They’ve got shared plans, shared dreams, and all of it hinges on this little store in this little town. BJ isn’t too worried. His boyfriend’s hobbies come and go, but Adam really, really enjoys woodworking, and getting to own a place like that sounds like getting to own his own playground.

Barbara, meanwhile, is stuck in clerical work, which she finds mind numbingly dull, but it's a steady paycheck, and it’s afforded her a ticket out of her dad’s place, so that’s something. She and Adam share a tiny studio apartment in Queens, and for all the time Betelgeuse spends there, he might as well live there, too. But three people in a studio isn’t any of their idea of a good time. Speaking of…

“I was on zillow, today,” Adam starts, and he and Barbara lean over with varying degrees of interest, as Adam shows them his phone. It’s a house, predictably, but a nice one. Old fashioned, and a little creeping looking. He likes it.

“She’s a bit of a fixer upper,” he says, admiring the house. “But the price is right, and look at all this character. Classic Queen Anne, with the original crown molding! Tons of space, lots of room for the three of us.” “Maybe a forth,” Barbara smiles brightly, and he matches her enthusiasm. She’s wanted to be a mom since he’s known her, six pretty amazing years, and while a lot has changed in that time, her maternal desire is as strong as ever.

“Maybe a fifth,” BJ grins, wiggling his eyebrows at her, and she flushes. “One from each of my boys.” She agrees, and she reaches across the table, for his hand, which he gives her. Adam takes her other hand, and they’re lost in that fantasy for a moment. He’s not actually sure he can give her what she wants, since he’s not exactly human, but Adam can, at least. And he gets to be part of it. Goddamn, he’s lucky.

“So? Tell us about this commercial you just did!” Adam smiles at him.

“S’not a big deal, just some radio ad,” He tells them, but he’s flattered that they’re always overly enthusiastic about his bit parts. “I heard you on the radio in the office, a few days ago!” Barbara remembers. “My coworkers couldn’t believe that was your real voice! You make such a good villain.” Of course he does. He keeps the smile on, because he knows Babs, knows that she means it in the sweetest, most lovey dovey way possible, but he’s never going to play the hero, because no hero sounds like a demon. He can’t get in his head about this, not right now. Not when the weather’s so nice, and he’s sitting across from the people he loves the most.

“I am the villain, babes,” he grins at her, and stands, leaning over to kiss and rub his stubble into her neck, until laughing, she pushes him away.

“Maybe you should come to the office with me, tomorrow,” Chuck says, over dinner. BJ resists the urge to stab himself through the eye with his fork. “M’not that into real estate, pop,” he tells him, and Emily smiles. “You know BJ’s an artist.” “I just think if he gave it a try,” Charles says, looking to his wife. “That he’d excel at it. I mean, good lord, all real estate is, is making deals and fast talking. He’s built for that sort of thing.” Betelgeuse grimaces. “But then I’d have to spend any amount of time around your coworkers, an’ those other big money creeps.” “Those big money creeps write the checks that paid for this house, BJ,” Chuck reminds him.

“I’ll be sure to send Maxie Dean a fruit basket.”

“Skip the fruit, just send that freak ass a basket of snakes,” Lydia says, and he grins. “Do not do that.” “Psh. Whatever, dad,” he pitches his voice into a teenage whine, and his father gives a dry smile in return. “So, that doctor appointment?” Lydia looks to Emily, and their mother smiles. “Got some scans done, no biggie. Checkups just suck. I’ve been having those migraines, recently, but the doctor didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.”

He’s staring down at his mother, in hospice, and those words echo around his mind. No big deal. The doctor didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. Just a couple migraines. Just some dizziness. Just some nausea. Just a tumor. Just another breather’s life, coming to an end.

Her bedroom is dark. The curtains are drawn. He’s sitting to her left, Lydia dozing to her right, and Emily is sleeping, dozing lightly. Chuck’s talking to the nurse in the hall. The last twelve months are a blur. He can’t remember individual days, can only remember when those test results came back. He remembers, vaguely, holding her hand during treatments. But there’s nothing any breather alive can do about the tumor, about the placement of it. At least she’s at home, at least she’s laying in her own bed. At least she’s not stuck in the hospital. Her sun colored hair is gone. Her smile is gone. That mischievous glint in her eyes is gone. All Emily does is sleep. All they can do is wait. read the rest of this chapter, plus the second one i couldn't help but post, over here, on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/32243065/chapters/79911316

[addictedtostorytelling]

What is your opinion on Sam Braun? I think Catherine should have cut him off completely.

speaking from an outside-of-the-universe-of-the-show perspective, i actually enjoy catherine and sam's interactions a lot.

i like that their relationship is complicated and messy, with catherine feeling, on the one hand, loyal to sam because he is her father but, on the other hand, disgusted by him because he is a murderer.

the way that their relationship plays out seems real to me. for example, i fully believe that part of catherine always sensed, even before she knew for sure, that sam was her biological father. i also fully believe that even though sam never claimed catherine or married her mother, he did realize she was his kid and looked out for her throughout her life (see episode 07x09 "living legend"). the implied depth of their relationship is there, as far as i’m concerned; catherine and sam read like two people who have known each other for catherine's whole life and who have a lot of different emotional threads tangled up between them.

even outside of the narrative itself, on an acting level, marg helgenberger and scott wilson play off of each other well; scenes like the ones where sam forces catherine to beg him for nicky's ransom money in episode 05x25 "grave danger" pt. ii and where catherine calls sam a "thug in thousand-dollar shoes"—great line, by the way—and he slaps her across the face in episode 07x02 "built to kill" pt. ii are especially electric.

the writers get a lot of good mileage using sam’s criminality as a narrative conflict for catherine to face. having to navigate between her personal relationship with her father and her professional integrity thrusts catherine into moral hard places, forcing her to make difficult decisions in both her professional life and her personal one (and particularly when sam is actively dating her mother). 

and that’s just the crux of good writing: presenting your character with an impossible choice and not allowing her to avoid choosing.

when it comes down to it, catherine doesn’t always do the right thing where sam is concerned—she tests his dna; she cashes his check; she takes his ransom money; she continues to have a relationship with him even after she knows with some certainty that he is a killer.

and that’s just plain interesting.

given that catherine is a character who doesn’t have many long-term romances (and especially not ones that are given a lot of screen time over the course of the series), her father-daughter relationship with sam turns out to be one of her most prominent and dynamic relationships on the show.

so, all in all, i’m a fan.

but that’s speaking from an outside-of-the-universe-of-the-show perspective.

inside of the universe of the show, sam is bad news, and catherine would absolutely be better off if she cut him out of her life. 

not only is he a bad guy in the sense that he occasionally kills people who cross him (or at least pays other people to do so), but he is also bad for catherine personally, in that he frequently puts her in positions that compromise her career, at times emotionally manipulates her, and even gets physically abusive with her once in a while.

while he does gift her a lot of money (enough so that she can, as a single mother, afford to send lindsey to a posh private school come s3), just being connected to him places both her and lindsey in danger, making them targets for his enemies (as is the case in s7 in episodes 07x01 and 07x02 “built to kill” pts. i and ii).

though i don’t doubt that sam does, in his own way, love catherine, he also is a selfish enough person that he can’t seem to place her well-being above his own; he is willing to let her (and lindsey) get hurt if it suits him, and he isn’t ever particularly apologetic when catherine gets caught in the crosshairs of his business dealings. to him, it’s all just the price of running the town.

from a character perspective, i can understand why catherine has a difficult time severing ties with sam, even after some of their more unpleasant encounters, as he does in many ways provide for her and there is a genuine emotional connection between them. 

however, i also know that if i were catherine’s friend and she asked me what i thought of sam and her relationship with him, i’d tell her that i didn’t like the way he treated her and that she would do well to steer clear of him—which are things i think that catherine already knows for herself on a logical level but which she might not be able to reconcile with emotionally. 

had sam not died suddenly at the start of s7, who knows how long catherine might have continued to maintain her relationship with him or if she ever would have reached a point when she said, “you know what? i’m done giving you second chances. you’ve killed enough people, and i’m out”?

anyway.

that’s my take.

thank you for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

[dobsmoneylake]

Prudence. Corazon. First actual date. (Or, it doesn't have to be a DATE-date...but the two of them as a pair for the first time.)

AN: I am so sorry that this took so long (Corazón wasn’t talking to me until I insulted him), I hope it was with the wait! Thanks for the prompt!! <3 I own nothing. Also thanks to the Historian for beta-ing for me.

At the sound of footsteps, Prudence looked up from where she was laid out in a sunchair on the deck of the Joyful Damnation, attempting to enjoy some of the sun. “I see you’re alive,” she called out to the owner of the footsteps, causing the sound of them to stop before starting to head toward her purposefully.

“Alive?” their owner proclaimed. “Of course I’m alive! It takes more than a few drinks to keep this pirate down!” A head popped into her view. “Honestly, Prudence, who do you think you’re dealing with here?”

Glaring at Corazón, Prudence took one hand and shoved against his shoulder, “Get out of my sun,” she warned.

Stumbling back at the force of her hand, Corazón straightened up and put his hands on his hips, looking around. Instead of the busy sight of their remaining companions that he expected, he instead saw a deck that was empty of everyone but Prudence. “Where is everyone?” he huffed. “We were supposed to set sail first thing this morning!”

“Well, you probably should have thought about that before sleeping the morning away,” Prudence said, smirking. “Now, I need to go into the town myself; are you going to sit around and sulk all day, or will you be accompanying me?” She stood up and stretched before reaching over to grab the robe that she usually wore, casually shrugging it on.

Corazón felt his cheeks heat up and he quickly looked away. “I don’t know, I have some things to do around here to make sure we’re ready to go as soon as you all get back,” he told her. “It takes a lot to get a ship as incredible as The Damnation ready to go, you know.”

“Yes, but how often do we get to spend time in public without having to talk Egbert out of blowing something up or making sure Dob doesn’t run off with all the gold?” she asked.

When he looked up, she was smiling. “You may have a point,” he conceded, “And I do deserve a vacation after all the work I do for you guys.”

“Exactly,” she said, brushing by him as she walked off the ship and looking over her shoulder at him. “Why don’t you say we have some fun?”

‘Fun’ led them to the market, which was in a little bit of a disarray when they arrived. Prudence immediately took off towards the most lethal looking stall, which was full of various sharp and pointy objects. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Corazón disappear, presumably to make use of the last bits of chaos from whatever had happened before they had arrived.

Letting all thoughts of her partner for the day leave her brain, Prudence started looking over at what this stall had to offer. There were a few bigger weapons that she looked at with some interest (they would be such a great benefit to her rage), but they weren’t elegant enough to really fit her aesthetic. In the middle of the table were a collection of sharp knives and daggers that her eyes kept getting drawn back to.

Idly casting detect magic (and how good it felt to be able to do that again), her eye was immediately drawn to a stiletto dagger in the middle of the table, which was just pulsating with energy.

“Are you going to, like, buy something or what?” the bored voice of the shopkeeper asked her.

“Can I try out that dagger in the middle?” She asked.

“Huh? Yeah, whatever. Just don’t steal it or anything.”

Picking it up, Prudence couldn’t help but let a grin spread over her face. The dagger was perfectly balanced in every way-- in fact it was perfect in every way. “How much for this, then?” she asked.

“That? 500 gold pieces.” The shopkeeper was still looking at her nails.

Prudence deflated. There was no way the party would be okay with her spending that much. She put the knife back on the table, but kept eyeing it, debating how much work it would be to just take it.

“Prudence!” Corazón said joyfully, walking up to her with his arms full. “Would you like any of these delicious artisan meats?”

“Sure,” she said, absentmindedly taking one.

“What do we have here, anything good?” he asked her.

“Nope,” she said.

“Really?” he asked skeptically. “Because you’ve been standing here for quite a while, and usually you would have left in disgust at this point.”

She glared at him. “Honestly, it’s all rubbish,” she said, “waste of my time.”

“Okay, if you say so,” he said. “Although if you really wanted something, I’m sure that we could afford it.”

“I said IT’S FINE,” she hissed at him before storming off towards the tavern. She needed a drink.

********

Corazón met up with Prudence just outside the tavern, which she was staring at for some reason. That reason became clear when the noises from inside the tavern drifted out as someone else entered-- specifically the sound of two familiar voices and the even more familiar sound of chaos.

“Oh, great,” Corazón said. “There goes our relaxing day.”

“Hm.”

“Hm? What do you mean ‘hm’?” he asked, pointing dramatically at the tavern. “That doesn’t exactly sound relaxing.”

“Yes, but this isn’t the only place to get drinks,” she reminded him.

He thought for a moment before sighing. “You want to go to the nice restaurant.” When she nodded, he threw up his hands. “But Prudence! It will be expensive! They’ll expect us to actually pay! Please, think this through!!!”

“I have thought this through,” she told him. “I’ve thought that I don’t want to go in there.” She pointed at the tavern for illustration, where a conveniently timed crash happened for emphasis.

Corazón sighed. “Pirates don’t do fancy establishments,” he told her.

She took off walking. “Okay, I’ll go by myself then,” she said. “There might be someone I meet along the way who would want to get a nice dinner with me.”

He jogged up to her. “I never said I didn’t want to get dinner with you!” he said.

“Oh good,” she took his arm. “Then you can buy me something nice.”

Looking down at the top of her head, he smiled. “Don’t push your luck too far, I never agreed to pay.”

*******

Dinner went well. Appetizers had been served, main dishes had been critiqued, and dinner was on its way out when music started and other people in the restaurant got up and made their way to the dance floor.

Corazón watched as they started to dance and scoffed. “Honestly, look at those idiots,” he said, never taking his eyes off the couples as he started moving his finger to the beat of the music.

“Why, because they’re dancing?” Prudence asked.

“Because they’re dancing horribly!” He said. “Honestly, look at that form! Dob could do better than that-- and I definitely could do better than that!”

Prudence took a sip of her wine, hiding a smile. “You’re sure about that, are you?”

“Am I sure about that?” He rolled his eyes. “Believe me, Prudence, I could dance circles around anyone in this restaurant-- no, around anyone in this town!” He sat back in his seat. “Honestly, ‘am I sure about that.’”

“Well then,” she said, setting her wine down, “You’ll just have to prove it to me.”

His eyes went wide. “Pro-- prove it to you!” he let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t need to prove it to you-- if anything, you should prove your dance skills to me!” He nodded decisively. “Yeah, Prudence, why don’t you prove your dance skills to me?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Okay,” she told him simply.

“What?” His eyes went wide. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“Okay, I’ll prove it to you,” she said. “Let’s dance.”

“You’re joking,” he told her.

“Well, unless you can’t dance after all,” she told him.

He stood up suddenly. “I am going to dance with you so hard you see stars!” he told her, holding out her hand.

“I’m sure you will.”

Still holding onto her hand, he led her out onto the dance floor as a tango started, pulling her into a picture perfect position and desperately trying to remember the steps of the tango-- for some reason, it was hard to focus when she was so close. He was so busy running through the steps in his head that he didn’t notice how quiet they were.

“You know, you’re right,” she said, breaking the silence. “You are a very good dancer.”

He smirked confidently down at her. “I told you so,” he said.

“But I think you’re overlooking some of the benefits of being not so perfect,” she continued.

He raised a confused eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this,” she said with a smile, allowing herself to drift even closer so they were pressed together.

Corazón’s steps stuttered as she pressed closer to him, and he started moving with less confidence. “Prudence,” he said softly so only she could hear. “What are we doing?”

“Do you trust me?” she asked him.

Corazón didn’t even have to think about it. “More than anyone.”

“Then just keep doing that,” she told him, pressing her face to his chest.

*******

As they walked down the path back to the ship (Corazón had ended up paying), Corazón grabbed Prudence’s hand. “Wait,” he told her, bringing her to a stop.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to face him.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but here,” he said, slipping out the dagger from earlier and shoving it into her hands. “You were obviously into it.”

She looked down at the dagger. “Please tell me you didn’t pay full price for this.”

“What?” he scoffed. “No. I nicked it. The shopkeeper was absolutely oblivious.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she told him.

“Don’t say anything.” When she went to open her mouth, he continued. “Really, don’t say anything. Let’s just agree to never bring it up again.”

“If you say so,” they made their way up to the ship. “Well, thank you so much for the lovely date,” Prudence told him.

Corazón stopped in his tracks. “Date?” he asked, his voice rising. “What do you mean, ‘date’?”

“Oh Corazón, you really are an idiot sometimes,” she said, shaking her head and grinning.

“What?” He sputtered, “I am the smartest member of the--”

He was cut off by her lips.

“You kissed me,” he said when she had pulled back.

“Well,” she smirked, “I certainly didn’t kiss myself.”

With that, she pressed her lips against his again. Corazón froze for a moment before slowly lifting his definitely not shaking hands to brush against her cheeks. When she didn’t pull back, he relaxed down into her, giving her the angle she needed to wrap her arms around his back.

After a few moments, Prudence pulled back and smiled almost shyly at him. “Have a good night, Corazón,” she said before walking into her room.

Corazón watched her go with his mouth half open before he closed it into a smile, reaching up to rest his hand on the back of his head. Suddenly, there came a rustle from above and the cat form of Merilwen jumped down to sit in front of him. If a cat could smirk, she was definitely making the facial impression.

“Oh, you shut up,” he told her irritably, turning around and walking into his captains’ quarters. He let the door shut behind him before leaning against it with a grin on his face.

[softandweto]

Help

I know I should put this up somewhere else, but I can’t. Tumblr is my only option and I need all the help I can get right now please.

I had to make a GoFundMe because there’s nothing else I can do. Please spread the word and the link is right here. I’ll be putting the same info in the GoFundMe under the Read More for those who want information up front.

Hello, I hope this finds any who visit well. Before I get into the reason for me making this, I’d like for you all to know how we got here.

My name is Xenia and my boyfriend and I have been living together for nearly a year now. At the beginning, things were going very well. We both had a stable income, and while that trailer was not the best place, we were secure and didn’t have to worry much about finances. Then, March came around and Covid hit us hard. I lost my job as a Teaching Assistant for Special Education, and my boyfriend’s job got more dangerous as a Med Tech working in a nursing home. I was unable to find a job for months, and things were starting to take a bad turn. 

We had some friends living in the state next over who had offered the both of us to move in with them. My boyfriend would have to go back to CNA work, however, as that would be the only license of his that could transfer to the state. My license as a Teaching Assistant was originally for that state, so it seemed to be perfect. After weighing all our options, we decided to make the move and take the risk.

Once again, things were looking well. We both got a new job within the month, and only had to worry about paying a combined $600/month outside of our car payments. With all this, we were able to put up with a lot of things. A majority of the house leaving the place in disarray for the both of us to handle. The racism that we didn’t catch up on until the end. The disregard for my dogs and their health. The fact that, despite how behind the house supposedly was on bills, they could afford to continue to finance new furniture and electronics while we could barely afford to pay the rent and our own food. We could put up with it because we were with friends. No way they would do all this on purpose.

Eventually, after two months of living there, it became too much and they used every excuse possible to force us out of their home and ostracized us. Suddenly, we were the issue. It was our fault their dishes continued to pile up. It was our fault they felt too anxious to leave their rooms. All their problems were now because of us. We had no other choice to move in with my mom and my brother in our old state. Once again, we were out of jobs and couldn’t find work no matter where we looked. I eventually found a job as a server again, but he was unable to find any work despite his CNA credentials.

When October came around, I was working full time for a server minimum wage, while my boyfriend had finally gotten some good news and was starting to work. We scrimped and saved for two months and were finally able to get enough to get our own home. A trailer in a small suburb just outside town was freeing up early December. At first, the price for the rent seemed impossible to make. But, I had received an email from a work from home position I applied for. Early January, I would be starting with them for more than minimum wage.

Things were finally coming into place. Things were once again looking up and we could taste the stability. Then, after a week of being moved in, we decided to enjoy a meal together made in our own home. All the stress, all the craziness we had put up with, it was worth it. But, we couldn’t taste our food. We started noticing the coughs when we were moving, but didn’t think much of it till then. We got tested, and our fears proved to be true. We had Covid.

It was brutal. It felt like suddenly we’d lose everything. The two weeks we spent in quarantine was like our own personal hell scape. Within the first week I was notified they were training someone else to take over my Shift Lead position. A title more than anything, since the pay did not change and minimum wage was all I could get, but that didn’t stop what I knew was coming next. A few days later, I was let go. Tossed aside like an inconvenience. For my boyfriend, they just put him out entirely. For the third time in one year, we were both out of a job. But now, we could face eviction.

We recovered from Covid, and just in time too. I was able to start my new job, but two weeks of no pay had put us out tremendously. One company hired my boyfriend, but we would shortly learn that they would never actually give him any hours. December and January have tested us on what we could and couldn’t live without. We had to forgo a majority of necessities.

We couldn’t set up a disposal service. We had to leave mail to pile up. Living off Dollar Tree groceries. Go weeks without gas. Pawn what we could just so we could make rent and utilities. Now, with February ending, all of this has caught up to us. 

Months of garbage have piled up so high we’ve designated a “trash room” just to keep it out of the way. Toiletries have been out for weeks, but we can’t even afford groceries so soap and cleaning products are out of the question. Our propane is almost completely gone. All the cans of food we had stockpiled are a day away from running out. And we can’t afford our bills. Not with all my checks being used to barely keep us alive.

My boyfriend has recently started a new job, but they won’t pay him in time for us to pay our bills. Which is why I’m reaching out to y’all for help. We have both done everything in our power to keep ourselves above water, but now we can no longer keep it up on our own.

Here is a breakdown of our situation as of today:

My recent paycheck is completely gone after using it to get some of our bills stabilized, but they are already getting back into the red with how far behind we are.

Our car payments are coming up as well as insurances. One car payment is my full check, and we won’t be able to pay for one of them, much less their insurance

We were able to get rid of four bags of trash thanks to some helpful neighbors, but it’s starting to pile once more and I’m worried bugs will start to come out

Internet and Electric must be paid within the next few days in full or risk disconnection. With these two gone, I can’t make any money whatsoever

Food will be out as of Tuesday and with no money left from my check, we’ll be unable to get any groceries for who knows how long

We just ran out of Propane which is used to keep water hot as well as to cook

I hate asking for help and not letting people know what the situation is or what the money will be used for, so I will do so now.

I am asking for 2500 which will leave us with a touch of extra money for things like groceries, toiletries, and vehicle maintenance that is greatly needed. The breakdown is as follows:

$550 - Rent

Rent is due on the 12th of each month and requires two checks to meet. Last month we were able to pay in two separate payments, but our landlord has said that it was the only time and March forward it will need to be in full each month.

$650 - Car Payments

Both cars are $300/month, but we’ve passed my boyfriend’s due date and have incurred a late fee. My car is due on the 6th and if it’s not paid in time, they will repo.

$500 - Insurance

Both Insurances are ~$250 each. Without the insurance, the cars will also risk repossession and my boyfriend needs the vehicles for transportation

 $235 - Internet + Electric

I’ve lumped these together since they are both necessary for my job as well as being ones that need to be paid by this Tuesday or they will disconnect

$100 - Propane

$100 gives us enough propane to last a month. Without this, we can’t shower, do laundry, or even cook

$120 - Disposal + Mail

Disposal and Mail service needs to be set up as soon as possible, but to be honest they are low on my priority list compared to everything above.

$345 - Groceries, Toiletries, Cat Care, and Car Maintenance

With the extra money we can comfortably get through a month with little hassle. I know that more bills will be due later on, but once my boyfriend starts getting steady checks again We can at least make it through on our own with this little extra

I know that right now, things are very tough. I may also come about as rather...presumptuous and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, people can help us out in our time of need. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you see this and are unable to help us out yourselves, please spread the word as much as you can. I cannot allow us to fall after everything we’ve been able to get through this horrible year. Please, if you can give even a dollar, that’s one dollar closer to getting out of this hole.

Thank you, and I hope that you all have a safe and happy time going forward.

[prime-pulse]

Westwood Village looks really interesting! If you’re okay with it, what’s the basic plot, or who are the main characters? What does the player character do, who are they?

WAAA thank you!!! I’ll put the main characters (so far, I have about 4 more in the works I haven’t drawn/named yet) beneath a read more because theres quite a few, but I’ll give a basic plot synopsis!!

You are from the bustling trading city of Woodlock Roe, a city situated on the rocky shores and mountains of the Sundering Abyss Sea. Convicted of a crime you did— or didn’t— commit, you have been exiled from the city and sent into the vast Abyssal Forest; essentially a death sentence without being officially stated as one.

Fighting you way through the forest, facing creatures you have only heard of in legends and from the mouths of drunk mercenaries, clinging onto the sliver of life you have left— you are saved by a young hunter, who brings you back to his village within the woods, a village you had never heard of until that moment, Westwood Village.

The game would center around you deciding the fate of Westwood Village, most being exiled, or the children of exiled individuals, also from Woodlock Roe. Dark forces seek to destroy the village, the only thing keeping them from targeting Woodlock Roe for reasons you don’t know— it is up to you if you let them, help them, or stop them. You’d be able to form relationships with any of the townsfolk (hence them all being listed as main characters despite only a certain number of individuals coming to your aid depending on your relationship with them), romantic or platonic, through their own mini-arcs between main plot "chapters"! The game would be an adventure/horror game with some RPG elements, largely impacted by how you treat the characters around you.

Viktor Marley | He/They/It | A young hunter who comes to your aid when you need it most. He runs the local butcher and tanning shop, and usually prefers to keep to himself and hide away in his shack outside the village. He wears a sack over his head, and almost never has any skin revealed.

Nau Beau | They/He/She | A clown who is one of the ex-mayor's sons, preforming every afternoon and every night for the citizens of Westwood Village— throwing fire and jumping through hoops, theres virtually nothing they can’t do! They’re sarcastic and prone to making jokes with an up-beat attitude in costume, however out of costume, they tend to be a bit irritable and cranky— of course, still with their charming wit and sarcasm. They have a niche interest in taxidermy when out of costume, and work hand-in-hand with Viktor to produce life-like taxidermy for the school and doctor in town.

Thatch "Jameson" Beau | He/Him | Son of the ex-mayor, he has lived a lavish life in one of the more well-build houses in the village. He often spends his days at the local inn-tavern, trying to woo visiting mercenaries with his untruthful stories of heroism and adventure. He’s often found squabbling with his sibling when they’re not drinking together, or helping the current mayor keep the town in check. There’s always a glint of caution in his eye.

Matir Rook | It/They/He | It goes into the mountains twice monthly and brings back freshly carved ice for everyone in the village. It does not speak, and instead communicates either through grunts, sign, or paper and ink. Often times, when looking for it, you can’t find it— but sometimes, when you aren’t, it finds you. It can often be found, when not working, at the schoolhouse helping ambitious children climb trees.

Mayor Rheikan Flora | He/She | Having been working tirelessly and nearly thanklessly for the last decade trying to contact Woodlock Roe and keep the village in order, Mayor Flora stands as the only person of government within the village. He is in charge of ruling all squabbles, approving all building plans, approving all marriages— it’s hard work. He’s often found in the mayor's office (his home); except for when it rains. When it rains, he’s often found wandering the streets under his umbrella, cigar in shaky hand.

Dreidiel Malchester | He/They | A priest rather open about being exiled from Woodlock Roe for scamming the government out of tens of thousands, Dreidiel is mainly in charge of officiating weddings and blessing the village bi-weekly to keep whatever lurks outside of it at bay. Having no sermons, or church— not that he ever took that life seriously— he's often found watching one of Nau's performances, helping out at the local school, or being kicked out of the mayor's home for trying to proposition yet another faulty business within the village. He’s never seen without a smile.

Unnamed | She/They | Running the local clinic of Westwood is a hard job, one ran without smiles or patience. It’s a dangerous place to live, and there’s always someone hurt— ??? is the doctor of the village; she's stern and sarcastic, but in a way that makes your heart warm. She may chew you out while bandaging your leg for the third time this week, but she always finishes the wrapping with a bow. Her arms are almost always folded, and you can see the muscle definition from whatever life she lived before.

Unnamed | She/Her | The local tailor of the village, ??? makes sure everyone is walking around in something not sore to the eye. She works with Viktor in obtaining furs, leather, or wool for her work, farming cotton herself on her property above the village. Her prices are always affordable, even for the most beautiful garment, because she prefers everyone look presentable and her be modest than only a few look stunning and she be rich. She’s almost always fidgeting with something in her hands.

Unnamed | They/Them | ??? is the village school teacher, mild-mannered and polite with a bit of a temper. They work well with keeping the children well-behaved and safe in the village, teaching them all they’ll need to know and much more. When school's out, they’re often found at the local inn-tavern with a drink while grading papers, or they’re found by the river studying the local wildlife. Their arms are covered in tattoos resembling serpents, tracking up all the way to their neck.

Unnamed | She/It | i have nothing written on her yet but she’s in charge of the inn-tavern

[tailorvizsla]

HCs - Jealousy and First Fight

Hi everyone! I got several requests for 🎭 (Jealousy): Din Djarin, Armorer, and Paz Vizsla. Paz also got a request for 💥(First Fight). So, without further ado, here we go! 

📚 My Master List 📚

1. Jealousy – Din Djarin Word Count: 700 Rating: PG13

● Din Djarin is a quiet, unassuming man with little desire for anything but to protect his little family. Din does not talk much, which means it took you a very long time to learn how to decipher his body language. He tends to keep things bottled up inside himself, so even if he is feeling something strongly, he never shows it to you. At best, you will recognize that his tone is slightly off. After that, it takes a few minutes of cajoling before he speaks.

● That is why it takes months for you to realize that he actually likes you and anticipates your company whenever the two of you can spare the time to hang out together. And for the past month? You have been starting to suspect he has romantic intentions toward you.

● One day, he offers to take you to town to pick up some supplies you need, and you eagerly agree.  You look forward to a bit of fresh air, too. You know he isn’t good with small talk, so you keep it to things you know he likes – his sweet, tiny goblin of a child and blasters.

● The supply run goes by faster than either of you anticipated, which means that you can linger in the market for a bit. There, you find a toolkit that you know one of the mechanics needs. It, however, is way out of the price range that you find acceptable, so you start trying to haggle the price down to something you can afford.

● The shopkeeper does not seem to care that you are Mandalorian. He does not seem to care about the fact that you are Mandalorian. In fact, he seems to be gazing up at you in fascination, a blush on his cheeks and a grin stretching across his lips. Sighing to yourself, you flirt back, directing his attention back to the toolkit. He finally knocks it down to what it’s actually worth and you accept his offer. As you start counting out credits, the man cheekily asks if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink later tonight.

● Before you can answer, you feel Din come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. With the way you are pressed up against him, you can feel tension radiating from every square inch of his body.

● “That won’t be possible,” Din says in the rudest tone you’ve ever heard him use with someone, “She’s having drinks with me.” The shopkeeper blinks and nods rapidly.

● “I wasn’t aware that you were with someone!” he says to you.

● “Can we get that receipt?” Din asks tightly, unaware that your mouth is flapping uselessly behind your visor, “My girl and I have plans.”

● You look up at Din, then at the shopkeeper, then back up at Din, your brain fizzling into a state of utter incomprehension. Once the receipt has been handed over, and you have the toolkit in your bag, Din leads you away, his hand possessively low on your hip.

● When you’re back on the Razor Crest, he tries to make a break for the cockpit, but you’re faster than he is, and you cut him off. You fold your arms under your breast plate and stare up at him.

● “Din,” you say quietly. “What was that about?”

● He stays quiet for a few moments. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he finally admits.

● “Were you jealous?” you ask.

● “Yeah,” he admits grumpily. He tries to retreat, but you stop him with one hand on his wrist.

● “You don’t need to be jealous,” you say softly to him. “I…I’m yours, Din. If you want.”

● Din freezes in place. Then he gently leans in and presses his forehead to yours in a brief keldabe kiss.

● “There’s no need to be jealous,” you say. Then mischievously, “Though, I wouldn’t mind you wrapping your arm around me like that again.”

● He stammers something out in response, ducking his head in mortification. It’s true – you do like the idea of him claiming you publicly.

2. Jealousy – Armorer Word Count: 752 Rating: PG13

· Armorer is a woman who has spent many years looking after others before herself. She has lost many loved ones over the years, so she is quite possessive of those who still remain. When she meets you, and finds that she wants you as her own, she makes it known that You. Are. Taken. The Tribe hunters keep a respectful distance from you, knowing that their Alor has claimed you as her own.

· Initially, you are quite shy, but as soon as you get settled into the Tribe, your personality begins to shine. The hunters often call you the runt of the strill litter – you’re the smallest one there, yet you’re the most aggressive.

· (Before leaving you here, Din had taken you aside to give you some advice. “If you want something done, you must not hesitate to assert yourself. Hunters are used to getting their way with outsiders. You make the mistake of giving them an inch, they’ll try to take the entire fucking parsec. Put your foot down and let them know that you are not rolling over for them. I know your society tells you to be nice, but here, be the assertive warrior I know you have locked up in here.” He very gently poked one index finger into your sternum. It was an awkward pep talk, but…it worked.)

· The first attempt to overstep you had happened in the Foundry. Some idiot hunter just shoved his cloak into your arms and told you to go repair it. You had faltered for a half second before getting up and sweetly saying to him, “Of course, I’ll take care of it right now. It won’t take long to fix the problem.”

· Armorer watched you apprehensively as you marched to the Forge. When she realized what you were about to do, she almost stopped you, but she didn’t. (Secretly, she wanted to watch the ensuing meltdown.) You wadded up the smelly, ratty cloak and pitched it straight into the bright blue flames. As the cloak burned away into dust, the hunter spluttered indignantly before making a threat toward your continued existence.

· She stepped in then, warding him off with one hand, “You said you wanted the problem fixed. There is no longer a hole in your cloak.” He had stomped off like a spoilt child then, muttering something foul under his breath about your ancestors. Then she turned to you, “In the future, do not toss a hunter’s property into my Forge. It is not a waste receptacle.” (You turned bright red and stammered out the sweetest, sincerest apology she’d heard in her life. From then on, you insisted on helping clean to make up for what essentially amounted to sacrilege.)

· That ballsy show of a backbone had certainly endeared you to her. You wanted nothing more than to help the Tribe succeed, to learn more about the Mandalorian way. She liked seeing the way your eyes lit up on seeing the children playing (and often, you’d go join them). When you shyly brought her a bottle of cold water at the end of a long, hot day spent at the Forge, Armorer realized that she had fallen hard.

· Other people would have taken time to think about it. She, however, knew how unpredictable life as Mandalorian could be. So she started courting you on the spot, making her interest in you known to you and to the Tribe. No one overstepped…until that one idiotic hunter tried to woo you. She had been jealous for seconds before realizing how stupid it was to be jealous.

· As he tried and tried to convince you to join him for ‘private sparring lessons’, you refused, just smiling, waiting for Armorer to come say something. Armorer finally grew fed up and came to you, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you tight against her breast plate, relishing in the tiny sigh you let out.

· That was all it took for him to realize the mistake he was making. When Armorer let her fingers drift down to her side, he backed off. (If it’s one thing Mandalorians learn early in life, it’s that the armorer of their tribe is the last person they want to cross.)

· You turn to Armorer, burying your face into the fuzzy capelet she wears, inhaling the scent of smoke and fire. Her hand drops to your ass and squeezes, making it clear without a doubt that you are most certainly taken. Then she gently presses her forehead against yours.

3a. Jealousy – Paz Vizsla Word Count: 1210 Rating: PG-13

● As an older man in his forties, Paz Vizsla has had many years to learn how to temper that passionate part of himself. When he grows angry or jealous, Paz instinctively forces himself to stop and think, which is a lesson that many hunters learn far too late in life. Anger blinds people, which leads to mistakes, and can cause devastation. Anger can drive people to do or say things they normally never would. The last thing Paz ever wants to do is to hurt someone he loves.

● He is a walking bucket of contradictions: he is passionate, emotional, and prone to violence; he is logical, rational, and will never hurt the person he loves.

● As Alor’ad when it comes to the military aspet of their Tribe, he is personally responsible for ensuring that everyone is well-trained in a variety of combat techniques, including hand-to-hand, shooting, aerial maneuvering, and survival skills. This is a job he takes Seriously. When he feels someone needs improvement, he will dedicate himself to improving their skill, even if that other person feels like they are being smothered to death by him. (No one will ever complain about this, though, because Paz’s tutelage has saved more than one hunter from a mistake of their own making.)

● One day, while hosting a group of homeward-bound hunters, he sees you talking to one of them. Paz can’t remember his name. All he knows is that the kid is young and cocky, and halfway decent with his rifle. To his dismay, you and the kid get on like a house on fire, as if the two of you have known each other for your entire lives.

● For the first time in many years, Paz finds himself burning with jealousy, and even though he tries his best to hide it, everyone picks up on his body language, his terse speech, and the murderous stares he throws in the kid’s direction.

● Paz would never dream of asking you to end a friendship to make himself feel better. He also knows he needs to make his feelings known to you, but you’re having so much fun he doesn’t want to keep you from shooting with a friend. Or sparring with a friend. Or reading with a friend. Or… Paz shakes the thoughts from his head.

● There is nothing sexual there, he tells himself firmly. (That doesn’t stop him from watching the kid from afar, waiting for him to fuck up just once so he can put him in his place.)

● It takes nearly a week, but the kid finally steps over the imaginary line Paz had put up as his own personal boundary. The kid wraps his arm around your neck, pulls you down, and gives you a good whack on the noggin. Paz sees red at the assault on your person. Rather than blow up at him, you elbow him in the side and laugh at him.

● Paz can handle the banter, the playfulness, and the sparring. But physically putting his hands on you? That is where Paz draws the line, especially since you’ve stabbed other hunters for doing the exact same kriffing thing in the past. He gets up and approaches, keeping his posture calm and relaxed to avoid alerting the little shit of his intentions.

● “Hey, Paz!” you say to him. “Come sit with us!” He wants desperately to sit with you, to feel your warmth against his own, but he has other business to take care of first. He declines with a gentle shake of the head and a brush of his fingers against your shoulder.

● “I actually came over to talk to you,” Paz says, turning to the young man. “Let’s talk about this morning.” The kid cocks his head, relaying his confusion.

● “This morning?” he asks, and Paz nods in response. “This morning,” Paz says. “Let’s go.” He puts one hand on the kid’s shoulder and squeezes just hard enough to let him know that he means business.

● Out in the hallway, out of your sight, Paz turns to the kid and stares him down. Then he leans in, making the kid back into the wall in surprise. Paz takes a deep, dark pleasure in watching his rival back down without a fight.

● “Let me make one thing clear to you,” Paz growls. “She’s mine. You put your hands on her again and I will break every single bone in your body.”

● Paz expects the kid to respond with “Yes, sir, I understand” or maybe “Oh, shoot, I didn’t know you two were together” or something like that. What he doesn’t expect is to hear the kid laugh. Stunned, incandescent rage fills him as the kid continues to laugh, unintelligible gibberish escaping his modulator as he tries to speak.

● “What the hell are you two doing out here?” you ask from the doorway.

● “Nothing, cyare,” Paz says. “Just having a talk.”

● “This – this di’kut,” the kid gasps out, “He-he thinks I’m hi-hitting on you!”

● “What?” you ask incredulously. “Paz, what the hell?”

● He almost snarls at the kid as he turns back. While he laughs, the kid shrinks back against the wall, a shriek of laughter escaping him.

● “Paz!” you say, putting your hand on his bracer. “Paz, you idiot, he’s my brother!”

● Like a popped balloon, the rage leaves him, and crippling mortification seeps in to fill the void. It all makes sense now. Paz bemoans his temper. He should have known from the kriffing start. He and Din treat each other the exact same way – the playful wrestling, the banter, and the constant pestering. He takes a half-step back and exhales.

● “Sorry,” he says grumpily. “I didn’t know you were siblings.”

● You shake your head at him, “Paz, I told you my brother was coming to visit. Were you not paying attention to me?”

● “When did you tell me?” he asks in confusion. You press your bucket against your hands in a clear show of your exasperation. The kid just starts to giggle again.

● “I told you right after our last shooting lesson,” you say to him. Paz thinks back on that moment and feels an uncharacteristic blush crawling up his cheeks. He turns back to the kid and slams his hands over the kid’s audial receptors.

● “They’re off, they’re off!” the kid says, and Paz withdraws his hands.

● “Cyare, as I recall, you were quite undressed at that time,” Paz says. “Surely you cannot expect me to actually be able to focus on anything but those little lace panties?”

● You gasp in mortification at his lewd words. Indignantly, you turn on your heel and march away without another word. Paz turns his head back down at the kid and waves his hands to get his attention.

● “Are they on again?” Paz asks.

● “Yeah,” the kid says.

● “Let me get you a drink to make up for my shitty behavior,” Paz responds.

● “You in the strill house now?” he asks.

● “Yup,” Paz responds. “By the way, you’re good with your rifle. I can give you a few tips, if you’d like.”

● After buying your brother a drink, giving him a proper apology, and some shooting lessons, Paz feels like he’s made up for his behavior. Now, he needs to get back on your good side…

 3b. First Fight with Paz Vizsla Wordcount: 663 Rating: PG13

● Despite what everyone says about hunters, Paz is quite intelligent. He is acutely aware of your emotional state and your needs. It is exceptionally rare that he slips up and upsets you. The two of you have your disagreements, like any other married couple, but it has never gotten to the point where the two of you actually fight. Despite your best efforts, it is inevitable that you and Paz have your first true fight.

● The day starts off like any other – you wake up with Paz’s arm around your waist and his face buried into your hair. After getting ready for the day, the two of you head to your respective workstations. The first disagreement is over something ridiculously stupid. You’re already tense, and Paz accidentally brings you the wrong ration. You thank him – a hint of sarcasm in your voice – and he responds in kind. Normally, you and Paz have no problems communicating, but today has been extremely stressful for the two of you.

● Staggering in through the bedroom door, you immediately trip over Paz’s boots and fall flat on your face. Rather than scold him, you blow up at him. He tells you to watch where you are going, rather than apologize for leaving his shit in the way. From there, it escalates, turning into a fight about everything that each of you has done to wrong the other.

● He shuts down when he’s angry, so he stalks off to go hide in the bedroom, locking the door behind himself to keep you away from him. (Honestly, hearing the door shut behind him hurts worse than the fact that you two are even fighting.)

● For the first time since the start of your marriage, you two go to bed angry at one another. You take the couch while he keeps the bed. (He really is too big to fit on the couch, and even though you want to wring his kriffing neck right now, you don’t want him to aggravate his back injury.)

● Later, you curl up on your side and pull your pillow over your head. You can’t help but to cry – you have never been this angry with him or yourself before. You’re frustrated, sad, and alone. Paz didn’t do anything to deserve your anger or your attitude. You don’t want to fault him for responding in kind – he’s a patient man, but he isn’t going to sit there and take someone’s attitude endlessly.

● You sit up and wipe the tears off your face. As you’re wrapping the blanket around yourself, Paz comes out into the living room. He sits down next to you and wraps his arm around you. You don’t hesitate to bury your face against his shoulder.

● “Cyare,” you say softly, “Why are we fighting?”

● “I don’t know,” he says. “I truly don’t.”

● From there, you apologize for snapping at him, your poor attitude, and the things you had spat at him in anger. He apologizes as well for the same things, pulling you into his lap and holding you close. He exhales and kisses you on the forehead, making you blush lightly.

● “I don’t like fighting with you,” Paz says quietly. You nod in agreement, “We are a team, cyare. No one – nothing – should come between us, especially our anger.”

● Over the next hour, the two of you work things out, figuring out where all the anger had manifested, where those hurtful things came from. Once everything is settled, Paz carries you into the bedroom and tosses you down onto the bed. Then he curls up behind you, resting a heavy arm around you, grunting as he buries his face into your hair.

● “Much better,” he says. “Couldn’t sleep without your hair in my mouth.”

● Quietly, you giggle at his words. The two of you will overcome these differences together, just like any other problem that arises.

All in all, this has been a very informative exercise, and I think this shows me where I need to improve as a writer. I definitely need to work on getting a personality hammered out for Armorer. (That pun was not intended, but I’m leaving it in.) Thank you so much to everyone who sent in a request! I really appreciate it! :D

[ssatoritendou]

Baby It’s Cold Outside

iwaizumi hajime 

Pairing: iwaizumi/reader

Word count: 3.8k 

+ summary: Oikawa plans a wonderful holiday weekend for you all the horrible part is your enemy and former crush Iwaizumi is going. He is awfully rude to you but is acting like your best friend so not to anger Tooru. Could this weekend get any worse? 

Genre: enemies to lovers; fluff 

Damn Oikawa Tooru. Damn the entire Oikawa family at this point if someone can make a person like him possible. His brilliant idea to get together and stay in the cabin. You had all been at different universities. Well, almost all of you. You and Iwaizumi attend the same uni. One would think after attending Aoba Johsai together and ending up in the same uni you would still be friends. But no. In fact, just after graduation, he cut you off. He said to you in a text message after you innocently said can’t wait to make more memories with you for the next four years, ‘I was only friends with you for Oikawa. You were his friend that just tagged along. I think it would be best if you and I didn’t interact at uni.’ A little difficult if you are both freshmen and take a majority of the same courses since you were both under the same major. But here’s the icing on the top: he acting like your best friend on this trip. And Tooru is making you share a room. Here is all how it started. There was knocking on your dorm door at 6 in the morning on a Saturday. “What?!” “Jesus I take it you're not a morning person.” Iwaizumi said standing in your hallway like he has been up for hours. “I’m assuming you got Shittykawa’s text last night?” “Yeah what do you not want me to go?” He rolled his eyes at this. “No Oikawa asked me to make sure we took the same train together since we go to the same uni.” “Well if he asked then fine. Can you go now? You messed up with my morning routine.”

That was a week ago. You had just finished exams. Now you get to relax on a long vacation with your friends and Iwaizumi Hajime. When you arrived at the cabin you were greeted by Mattsun, Makki, and for lack of better terms Shittykawa. “Iwa! N/n! Finally, you are here. I hope Iwa is taking care of my little N/n.” “Baka! Of course, I am.” Iwaizumi said in a huff. “Can we go inside now? It’s freezing out here.” He was lying to Tooru. His best friend since diapers. Straight lied. You hadn’t talked to him since graduation. “This way my good friends,” Oikawa said, leading the group forward on the lightly snowed path. You were picking up your bag when Mattsun picked it up. “I carry it myself, Issei.” You said laughing. “Nonsense why would I let you the clumsiest person I know carry her bags in the snow.” He said. You started to get cocky and walked backward. “Please it’s not even snow-” You ended up slipping on the ice cover by the snow. “I see your point.” “Just hold on to my arm.” He said trying to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. “Always a gentleman Mattsun.” You were trailing behind the others further away from Tooru. See Mattsun knew what Iwaizumi said to you and how he blatantly ignores you. “I have a question, are you guys friends?” “No. Not even close. I have no clue why he lied to him. Makes me think that if Tooru asks about me does he lie about that too. Just last week when we were invited Tooru asked him to take the same train as me. But he was still completely rude.” “I have no clue what his problem is. I didn’t know he had so much disdain towards you. He was always so nice to you in school.”   You shook your head at this comment What could you have done to offend Iwaizumi Hajime so much?

“Shittykawa how could you not know there were only 3 bedrooms!” Iwaizumi shouted at him. “I’m sorry Iwa but look at this place it was nice and big for an affordable price for all of us.” Oikawa shuddered under the angry gaze of the former wing-spiked. “It’s fine, it's not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before,” Makki said. “Or seen each other naked.” “No one here has seen N/n naked or slept in the same bed as her,” Oikawa said. “Yes and I attend to keep it that way. So I think that settles and I get my own room.” “Hell No!” Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsun yelled. “I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t share a bed or room with Oikawa Tooru again,” Makki said. “He either sleeps like a mummy with headphones and a face mask in the middle of the bed.” Iwaizumi said. “Or he stays up all night watching stuff on his laptop,” Mattsun said. “Fine, then I’ll stay with Mattsun.” You said. To this statement, Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Fine with me.” Mattsun put his arm on your shoulder with a smile. You picked his hand off your shoulder. “You sir are sleeping at the foot of the bed.” “I’m just messing. I’ll bring our bags to a room.” Mattsun picked up the bags and walked down the hallway. Iwaizumi and Makki did the same. “You knew it had 3 bedrooms, didn’t you? To get a room all to yourself?” “N/n I would never!” He laughed.

You wanted to shower after a long train ride and as you went to open the door to your room. Makki opened the door. “Y/n I wouldn’t go in there. Mattsun is sick and I know how much of a germaphobe you are. And I shared a drink with him earlier. So you have to share a room with Iwaizumi.” You flinched away from Makki and the room in general. A nightmare. Nightmare. “Ok. Tell Mattsun I hope he feels better and I hope you also don’t get sick as well.” “Thank you,” Makki said. You walked down the hall and knocked on the door. “What do you want?” “Mattsun is sick and Makki drank from his water today.” “Oh, right you are a germaphobe. So we are sharing rooms. Just great.” “Yeah yeah. Can I take a shower? I need to get the train germs off me and Mattsun's germs. Like right now.” You said in a haste to hope into a scalding shower to get this gross feeling off of you. It started to itch in the back of the brain. “Yeah, I guess.” He moved out of the way. “Where are your bags?” “I think Issei still has them. I’ll just go and get them.” “No. I’ll get them. Just go take a shower.” He said in a huff.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to your arms?” Iwaizumi asked. “I cleaned myself.” “I’m just going to go shower you can get dressed.” He walked into the bathroom. “Y/n is barely any soap left.” “Sorry.” You quickly got dressed in your pajamas and took whatever extra pillows you could find and made a wall in the middle of the bed. You laid down leaving the desk lamp on for Iwaizumi. “What’s that?” Iwaizumi asked while pointing at the pillow brigade. “Something to keep us apart and respect each other's boundaries.” “Huh. Typical.” “And what does that mean?” “Oh, nothing I just know you wouldn’t do this for your precious Issei.” “Actually no because he is nice to me and isn’t fake nice to me just to make Tooru feel better.” “You want to break his heart?” “What does that mean?” “Uh nevermind. Good night.” He yanked the chain on the desk lamp off.

“So what are we going to do today?” Mattsun asked with a mask on. “Why don’t you take that stupid mask off for starters. You too Makki.” Iwaizumi said to them. “We are both sick and we are respecting Y/n’s boundaries.” “There is a great town nearby with cute little shops. There is a small ski and park.” Oikawa said with a cheery tone. “Let’s shop first for an hour then go to that park,” Makki suggested. “Cool with me. Let’s go.” You got to the little town and it was a little kitschy but overall it was cute. You got an idea when you saw a drug store to call Sakusa. He knew all the good ways to prevent colds and any illness. “L/n what is the reason you are calling me or is it because you found another sanitizer that works well.” “No no. I was wondering if you have any recommendations for cold medicine. One of my friends that I’m traveling with is sick and I wanted to get him the best medication.” “Mmm. Symptoms?” “Congestion, wet cough, runny nose.” “Stick with the basics Mucinex and even a neti pot. It will flush out everything.” “Who the fuck are you on the phone with?” Iwaizumi said out of nowhere starling you. You put up your hand annoyed. “Thank you again Sakusa. Sorry to bother you on holiday.” “No trouble. Have a nice trip with your friends.” You smiled and hung up. “Why were you talking to Sakusa Kiyoomi?” He said with a snarl. “I was asking him about cold medicine for Issei and Makki. Why did you follow me?” “I didn't. Oikawa told me to find you after you peeled away from the group. Why do you have his number?” “That’s really none of your business. You aren’t my friend, remember.” You said you open the door to the drug store. And of course, he followed you inside. You picked out the things you need for your friends. “Why do you call Mattsun and Oikawa by their first names?” “Because they asked me too. Why are you so curious? Are you jealous, Hajime?” You emphasized his first name which you have never said to him in the time you have known him. “Don’t call me that.” “Why does it bother you Hajime?” “Yes.” “Fine then I won’t.” You pecked his cheek and left the store smiling, leaving him speechless.

After a full afternoon of shopping, you became tired and started to get a headache. “Guys I think I’m getting sick I think I’m just going back to the house. You guys can go ahead without me.” “Ahh. My poor little N/n I’m sorry.” “If you are going to go back maybe I should walk you back,” Mattsun said. “Issei you don’t have to. Just stay here and have fun in the snow.” You smiled. “Iwa said he didn’t even want to go.” You cringed at the idea of spending the rest of the day with him alone. “I actually changed my mind Shittykawa.” “It’s fine guys I can walk back by myself.” To this Mattsun and Makki laughed. “Just enjoy the afternoon. I'm probably just going to sleep anyways.” “Ok be careful though N/n!”

“Why did you tell Y/n to be careful?” Iwaizumi asked Mattsun. “Why do you care?” Mattsun scoffed back on the ski lift. “Huh?” “One would think the great Hajime Iwaizumi would notice how clumsy she is. Like really clumsy. Slipping off the couch clumsy while just sitting there. Why do you act like such a dick to her? Huh? Then proceed to lie to Oikawa that she is fine. You don’t know a thing about her.” “She told you.” “I was there when you sent that text. She was hurt really bad. She didn’t know what she did wrong. And the worse part is I couldn’t tell her to put her mind at ease. Because you know why? Because she was very kind and respectful towards you. For three years. She cried. And she is going to hate me for saying this but she really liked you. She didn’t say anything afraid of how Oikawa would react. You put up a front for three years acting so kind towards her and took care sometimes too, I thought you liked her back. But you did that to her and broke her heart. For what?” Iwaizumi was shocked at Mattsun's sudden outburst. He was always a man of few words and relied more on actions. “Forget it.” He said in a huff and got off the lift to ski. While Iwaizumi sat there confused. You liked him. For the longest time, he thought you liked Oikawa or Mattsun based on how you treated them. He sat back and thought about how you acted around him in your high school years. You were always cautious around him but ask how he was doing and if he needed help with anything. Most of the time it was English and you were really good at it. But you stayed a comfortable distance away from him but never looked at him in his eyes when talking to him. He picked up on that around your second year. You would always look at the tip of his nose or at his brow line. He also picked up how close you were with Mattsun. He would always touch you. Hug you from behind, pull your places, give you head pats, pick you up, etc,. He thought maybe he liked you too and he couldn’t make a move if one of his friends like you. He made the decision to distance from you in college hoping his feelings would die without seeing you. But if you liked him this whole time… Shit he messed up big time. You hate him and worse of all he was resentful that his feelings for you were reciprocated and was horribly mean to you. The lift came back to its station. “Hey, dude are you gonna get off?” Iwaizumi snapped out of his trance and quickly hopped off to find you. In hopes of salvaging what had happened between you two.

Mattsun and Makki were right to laugh at you for not making it home safely. You were making your way up the trail just outside of the house and you slipped once again on black ice hurting your ankle really badly. There was no one around and the cell service was bad. You were stuck there until the boys came back to one laugh at you, two then for Oikawa to scold you for not being careful and three for them to actually help you. You laid down in the frigid cold air and the cold wet snow with the slight cold approaching teeth chattering. You heard crunches in the snow hoping it wasn’t wildlife to snack on your body. You quickly lifted your head to see Iwaizumi there. “Iwaizumi I thought you were skiing?” “I got bored. What happened?” He asked concerned. “Promise not to laugh?” He nodded. “I slipped on black ice and I think I sprained my ankle when I tried to get up and stand on it, it really hurt. I don’t think I heard a crack so that’s a plus. Can you help me up?” He leaned down and picked you up bridal style. You thought he would just give you his arm or let you use him as a crunch as you hobbled your way back to the house. You couldn’t help to look at him. He seemed different. “How long were you there?” He asked. “I think for an hour.” You chattered your teeth at the end of the statement. “Are you cold?” “Very much.” And with that comment, he brought you closer to his body. Sure it was a nice gesture and warm and made you involuntarily melt into him but he was acting weird. He was being nice to you. When you finally got to the house he placed you on the couch making sure pillows were supporting your back and elevated your foot. He carefully untied the book and slid it off. You wince when you saw it bruised and swollen. “Yeah, it looks sprained to me. You might need to get it x-rayed to make sure. But you should stay off it for the remainder of the trip. I’m gonna make a fire to warm you up. Then I’ll get you your pajamas and warm socks. And I’ll make you hot chocolate with cinnamon your favorite.” “Are you sick Iwaizumi?” You said putting your hand to his head to check for a fever. “No.” He swatted your hand away. “I’m not totally heartless.” “Are you taking care of me because of pity? Because if you are I’m just going to go to bed and sleep it off. Because I don’t neee-” you stretched out the e’s in need when you were getting off the couch. “Jeez, I’m just trying to take care of you. What is the harm in that?” “Because you hate me. You shouldn’t be doing this. You are only nice to me in front of Tooru and now you are acting as if he is here watching us.” “I’m not acting.” “Then what changed your tune. Because I thought you saw me as a nuisance at least that is what you said to me. So tell me what it is that is making you act like I’m in the Bizzaro?” “Mattsun told me you like me!” You were frozen. More so than you already were. You did like him when you were in high school, maybe you still did. Maybe you were still hung up on the fact that he was so kind to you and you laughed together that it led to that hurtful text you received. “Are you going to say anything?” “Are you doing this out of pity because I liked you?” “No, no. See the thing is….” God how was he going to tell you that he likes you too. And he thought pushing you away was the best decision for him. “I-I like you as well.” “Then why do you act like a prick?!” “I like you a lot and I thought for the longest time you liked Mattsun and he liked you. I wasn’t going to do anything and hurt him. I thought we would go to different colleges and only see each other when Oikawa did things like this. But then we were going to go to the same college and I couldn’t deal with being around you if you didn’t have the same feelings. So I pushed you away. I didn’t know what I said hurt you so bad until today when Mattsun told me. And for that I’m sorry. My intention was never to hurt you just push you away.” You leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. “You are an idiot. You need to make it up to me big time. You said some hurtful words to me.”   “You can forgive me? After what I did-” This time you pecked him on the lips to shut him up. “Yes, idiot I forgive you.” He pulled you in for a hug and you heard his heart beating really fast. “Are you ok?” “Better than ok.” He leaned down to kiss you but was met with a glove to the face. “Get off her Iwa!” Oikawa shouted from the doorway. “Shittykawa what the fuck!” “Tooru it is fine.” You said. “No! No! I made him promise me not to make out in front of me with you. It is like watching my siblings kiss. Gross. Vulgar.” “It is not gross, Shittykawa!!” You said to him. “N/n don’t call me that,” Tooru said, sounding like a wounded puppy. Iwaizumi got up from the couch and kissed the top of your head. “I’m gonna get your pajamas you lay here and don’t move.” He whispered. On his way out he hit Oikawa in the back of the head. “Leave her alone Shittykawa. You gave me your blessing about 3 years ago so shut up.”   Makki and Mattsun walked into the living area and saw your ankle. “Couldn’t be careful once?” “See you try not to slip on black ice. And I don’t have years of volleyball muscle in my legs.” “Clumsy as ever. Let’s hope that heart of yours doesn’t slip and get shattered.” Mattsun said. “Because if he does hurt you I’ll hit him till he breaks.” With a haunting smile saying Oikawa’s catchphrase.

Iwaizumi came back with sweatpants and took you to the bathroom to help you put them on. He then put you back on the couch where the boys were watching a movie, chosen by Oikawa. (He chose Titanic; he was crying the whole time.) Iwaizumi proceeded to make your hot chocolate which led him to make some for everyone and a fire. You started drifting to sleep and he picked you up from the couch and brought you to bed and tucked you in. He must have taken down the pillows in the middle because when he came into bed his arms were around you. You felt safe in his arms. He kissed your cheek again and said, “You can call me Hajime but never Iwa.” To this, you smirked and replied, “Goodnight Hajime.”

[96harmony96]

Chapter 5

I had a vicious hangover on Saturday morning and figured it was no less than I deserved. As much as I’d resented Lauren’s insistence on negotiating sex with as much passion as she would a merger, in the end I’d negotiated in kind. Because I wanted her enough to take a calculated risk and break my own rules.

I took comfort in knowing she was breaking some of her own, too.

After a long, hot shower, I made my way into the living room and found Cary on the couch with his netbook, looking fresh and alert. Smelling coffee in the kitchen, I headed there and filled the biggest mug I could find.

“Morning, sunshine,” Cary called out.

With my much-needed dose of caffeine wrapped between both palms, I joined him on the couch.

He pointed at a box on the end table. “That came for you while you were in the shower.”

I set my mug on the coffee table and picked up the box. It was wrapped with brown paper and twine, and had my name handwritten diagonally across the top with a decorative calligraphic flourish. Inside was an amber glass bottle with Hangover Cure painted on it in a white old-fashioned font and a note tied with raffia to the bottle’s neck that said, “Drink me.” Lauren’s business card was nestled in the cushioning tissue paper.

As I studied the gift, I found it very apt. Since meeting Lauren I’d felt like I’d fallen down the rabbit hole into a fascinating and seductive world where few of the known rules applied. I was in uncharted territory that was both exciting and scary.

I glanced at Cary, who eyed the bottle dubiously.

“Cheers.” I pried the cork out and drank the contents without thinking twice about it. It tasted like sickly sweet cough syrup. My stomach quivered in distaste for a moment, and then heated. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shoved the cork back into the empty bottle.

“What was that?” Cary asked.

“From the burn, it’s hair of the dog.”

His nose wrinkled. “Effective but unpleasant.”

And it was working. I already felt a little steadier.

Cary picked up the box and dug out Lauren’s card. He flipped it over; then held it out to me. On the back Lauren had written, “Call me” in bold slashing penmanship and jotted down a number.

I took the card, curling my hand around it. Her gift was proof that she was thinking about me. Her tenacity and focus was seductive. And flattering.

There was no denying I was in trouble where Lauren was concerned. I craved the way I felt when she touched me, and I loved the way she responded when I touched her back. When I tried to think of what I wouldn’t agree to do to have her hands on me again, I couldn’t come up with much.

When Cary tried to hand me the phone, I shook my head. “Not yet. I need a clear head when dealing with her and I’m still fuzzy.”

“You two seemed cozy last night. She’s definitely into you.”

“I’m definitely into her.” Curling into the corner of the couch, I pressed my cheek into the cushion and hugged my legs to my chest. “We’re going to hang out, get to know each other, have casual-but-physically-intense sex, and be otherwise completely independent. No strings, no expectations, no responsibilities.”

Cary hit a button on his netbook and the printer on the other side of the room started spitting out pages. Then he snapped the computer closed, set it on the coffee table, and gave me all his attention. “Maybe it’ll turn into something serious.”

“Maybe not,” I scoffed.

“Cynic.”

“I’m not looking for happily-ever-after, Cary, especially not with a mega-mogul like Jauregui. I’ve seen what it’s like for my mom being connected to powerful men. It’s a full-time job with a part-time companion. Money keeps Mom happy, but it wouldn’t be enough for me.”

My dad had loved my mom. He’d asked her to marry him and share his life. She’d turned him down because he didn’t have the hefty portfolio and sizeable bank account she required in a husband. Love wasn’t a requisite for marriage in Sinuhe Stanton’s opinion and since her sultry-eyed, breathy-voiced beauty was irresistible to most men, she’d never had to settle for less than whatever she wanted. Unfortunately she hadn’t wanted my dad for the long haul.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was ten thirty. “I guess I should get ready.”

“I love spa day with your mom.” Cary smiled and it chased the lingering shadows on my mood away. “I feel like a god when we’re done.”

“Me, too. Of the goddess persuasion.”

We were so eager to be off that we went downstairs to meet the car rather than wait for the front desk to call up.

The doorman smiled as we stepped outside—me in heeled sandals and a maxi dress, and Cary in hip-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Good morning, Miss Cabello. Mr. Taylor. Will you need a cab today?”

“No thanks, Paul. We’re expecting a car.” Cary grinned. “It’s spa day at Perrini’s!”

“Ah, Perrini’s Day Spa.” Paul gave a sage nod. “I bought my wife a gift certificate for our anniversary. She enjoyed it so much I plan to make it a tradition.”

“You did good, Paul,” I said. “Pampering a woman never goes out of style.”

A black town car pulled up with Clancy at the wheel. Paul opened the rear door for us and we climbed in, squealing when we found a box of Knipschildt’s Chocopologie on the seat. Waving at Paul, we settled back and dug in, taking tiny nibbles of the truffles that were worth savoring slowly.

Clancy drove us straight to Perrini’s, where the relaxation began from the moment one walked in the door. Crossing the entrance threshold was like taking a vacation on the far side of the world. Every arched doorway was framed by lushly vibrant striped silks, while jeweled pillows decorated elegant chaises and oversized armchairs.

Birds chirped from suspended gilded cages and potted plants filled every corner with lush fronds. Small decorative fountains added the sounds of running water, while stringed instrumental music was piped into the room via cleverly hidden speakers. The air was redolent with a mix of exotic spices and fragrances, making me feel like I’d stepped into Arabian Nights.

It was this-close to being too much, but it didn’t cross the line. Instead, Perrini’s was exotic and luxurious, an indulgent treat for those who could afford it. Like my mother, who’d just finished a milk-and-honey bath when we arrived.

I studied the menu of treatments available, deciding to skip my usual “warrior woman” in favor of the “passionate pampering.” I’d been waxed the week before, but the rest of the treatment—“designed to make you sexually irresistible”—sounded like exactly what I needed.

I’d finally managed to get my mind back into the safe zone of work when Cary spoke up from the pedicure chair beside mine.

“Mrs. Stanton, have you met Lauren Jauregui?”

I gaped at him. He knew damn well my mom went nuts over any news about my romantic—and not-so-romantic, as the case may be—relationships.

My mother, who sat in the chair on the other side of me, leaned forward with her usual girlish excitement over a rich, handsome man. “Of course. She’s one of the wealthiest women in the world. Number twenty-five or so on Forbes’s list, if I’m remembering correctly. A very driven young woman, obviously, and a generous benefactor to many of the children’s charities I champion. Extremely eligible, of course, but I don’t believe she's straight , Cary. She’s got a reputation as a ladies’ pleaser.”

“My loss.” Cary grinned and ignored my violent headshaking. “But it’d be a hopeless crush anyway, since she’s digging on Camila.”

“Camila! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything. How could you not tell me something like that?”

I looked at my mom, whose scrubbed face appeared young, unlined, and very much like mine. I was very clearly my mother’s daughter, right down to my surname. The one concession she’d made to my father had been to name me after his mother.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I insisted. “We’re just…friends.”

“We can do better than that,” Sinuhe said, with a look of calculation that struck fear in my heart. “I don’t know how it escaped me that you work in the same building she does. I’m certain she was smitten the moment she saw you. Although she’s known to prefer blondes…Hmm…Anyway. sHe’s also known for her excellent taste. Clearly the latter won out with you.”

“It’s not like that. Please don’t start meddling. You’ll embarrass me.”

“Nonsense. If anyone knows what to do with men, it’s me.”

I cringed, my shoulders creeping up to my ears. By the time my massage appointment came around, I was in desperate need of one. I stretched out on the table and closed my eyes, preparing to take a catnap to get through the long night ahead.

I loved dressing up and looking pretty as much as the next girl, but charity functions were a lot of work. Making small talk was exhausting, smiling nonstop was a pain, and conversations about businesses and people I didn’t know were boring. If it wasn’t for Cary benefitting from the exposure, I’d put up a bigger fight about going.

I sighed. Who was I fooling? I’d end up going anyway. My mom and Stanton supported abused children’s charities because they were significant to me. Going to the occasional stuffy event was a small price to pay for the return.

Taking a deep breath, I consciously relaxed. I made a mental note to call my dad when I got home and thought about how to send a thank-you note to Lauren for the hangover cure. I supposed I could e-mail her using the contact info on her business card, but that lacked class. Besides, I didn’t know who read her inbox.

I’d just call her when I got home. Why not? She’d asked—no, told—me to; she’d written the demand on her business card. And I’d get to hear her luscious voice again.

The door opened and the masseuse came in. “Hello, Camila. You ready?”

Not quite. But I was getting there.

___

After many lovely hours at the spa, my mom and Cary dropped me off at the apartment; then they headed out to hunt for new cuff links for Stanton. I used the time alone to call Lauren. Even with the much-needed privacy, I punched most of her phone number into the keypad a half-dozen times before I finally put the call through.

She answered on the first ring. “Camila.”

W that she’d known who was calling, my mind scrambled for a moment. How did she have my name and number in her contact list? “Uh…hi, Lauren.”

“I’m a block away. Let the front desk know I’m coming.”

“What?” I felt like I’d missed part of the conversation. “Coming where?”

“To your place. I’m rounding the corner now. Call the desk, Camila.”

she hung up and I stared at the phone, trying to absorb the fact that Lauren was moments away from being with me again. Somewhat dazed, I went to the intercom and talked to the front desk, letting them know I was expecting her and while I was talking, she walked into the lobby. A few moments after that, she was at my door.

It was then that I remembered I was dressed in only a thigh-length silk robe, and my face and hair were styled for the dinner. What kind of impression would she get from my appearance?

I tightened the belt of my robe before I let her in. It wasn’t like I’d invited her over for a seduction or anything.

Lauren stood in the hallway for a long moment, her gaze raking me from my head down to my French manicured toes. I was equally stunned by her appearance. The way she looked in worn jeans and a T-shirt made me want to undress her with my teeth.

“Worth the trip to find you like this, Camila.” sHe stepped inside and locked the door behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Thanks to you. Thank you.” My stomach quivered because she was here, with me, which made me feel almost…giddy. “That can’t be why you came over.”

“I’m here because it took you too long to call me.”

“I didn’t realize I had a deadline.”

“I have to ask you something time-sensitive, but more than that, I wanted to know if you were feeling all right after last night.” Her eyes were dark as they swept over me, her breathtaking face framed by that luxurious curtain of inky hair. “God. You look beautiful, Camila. I can’t remember ever wanting anything this much.”

With just those few simple words I became hot and needy. Way too vulnerable. “What’s so urgent?”

“Go with me to the advocacy center dinner tonight.”

I pulled back, surprised and excited by the request. “You’re going?”

“So are you. I checked, knowing your mother would be there. Let’s go together.”

My hand went to my throat, my mind torn between the weirdness of how much she knew about me and concern over what she was asking me to do. “That’s not what I meant when I said we should spend time together.”

“Why not?” The simple question was laced with challenge. “What’s the problem with going together to an event we’d already planned on attending separately?”

“It’s not very discreet. It’s a high-profile event.”

“So?” Lauren stepped closer and fingered a curl of my hair.

There was a dangerous purr to her voice that sent a shiver through me. I could feel the warmth of her big, hard body and smell the richly musky scent of her skin. I was falling under her spell, deeper with every minute that passed.

“People will make assumptions, my mother in particular. She’s already scenting your bachelor blood in the water.”

Lowering her head, Lauren pressed her lips into the crook of my neck. “I don’t care what people think. We know what we’re doing. And I’ll deal with your mother.”

“If you think you can,” I said breathlessly, “you don’t know her very well.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Her tongue traced the wildly throbbing vein in my throat and I melted into her, my body going lax as she pulled me close.

Still, I managed to say, “I haven’t said yes.”

“But you won’t say no.” sHe caught my earlobe between her teeth. “I won’t let you.”

I opened my mouth to protest and she sealed her lips over mine, shutting me up with a lush wet kiss. Her tongue did that slow, savoring licking that made me long to feel her doing the same between my legs. My hands went to her hair, sliding through it, tugging. When she wrapped her arms around me, I arched, curving into her hands.

Just as she had in her office, she had me on my back on the couch before I realized she was moving me, her mouth swallowing my surprised gasp. The robe gave way to her dexterous fingers; then she was cupping my breasts, kneading them with soft, rhythmic squeezes.

“Lauren—”

“Shh.” sHe sucked on my lower lip, her fingers rolling and tugging my tender nipples. “It was driving me crazy knowing you were naked beneath your robe.”

“You came over without—Oh! Oh, God…”

Her mouth surrounded the tip of my breast, the wash of heat bringing a mist of perspiration to my skin.

My gaze darted frantically to the clock on the cable box. “Lauren, no.”

Her head lifted and she looked at me with stormy green eyes. “It’s insane, I know. I don’t—I can’t explain it, Camila, but I have to make you come. I’ve been thinking about it constantly for days now.”

One of her hands pushed between my legs. They fell open shamelessly, my body so aroused I was flushed and almost feverish. Her other hand continued to plump my breasts, making them heavy and unbearably sensitive.

“You’re wet for me,” she murmured, her gaze sliding down my body to where she was parting me with her fingers. “You’re beautiful here, too. Plush and pink. So soft. You didn’t wax today, did you?”

I shook my head.

“Thank God. I don’t think I would’ve made it ten minutes without touching you, let alone ten hours.” She slid one finger carefully into me.

My eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by a woman whose familiarity with the rules of Brazilian waxing betrayed an intimate knowledge of women. A woman who was still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor beside me.

“You’re so snug.” Lauren pulled out and thrust gently back into me. My back bowed as I clenched eagerly around her. “And so greedy. How long has it been since the last time you were fucked?”

I swallowed hard. “I’ve been busy. My thesis, job-hunting, moving…”

“A while, then.” sHe pulled out and pushed back into me with two fingers. I couldn’t hold back a moan of delight. The woman had talented hands, confident and skilled, and she took what he wanted with them.

“Are you on birth control, Camila?”

“Yes.” My hands gripped the edges of the cushions. “Of course.”

“I’ll prove I’m clean and you’ll do the same, then you’re going to let me come in you.”

“Jesus, Lauren.” I was panting for her, my hips circling shamelessly onto her thrusting fingers. I felt like I’d spontaneously combust if she didn’t get me off.

I’d never been so turned on in my life. I was near mindless with the need for an orgasm. If Cary walked in right then and found me writhing in our living room while Lauren finger-fucked me, I didn’t think I’d care.

Lauren was breathing hard, too. Her face was flushed with lust. For me. When I’d done nothing more than respond helplessly to her.

Her hand at my breast moved to my cheek and brushed over it. “You’re blushing. I’ve scandalized you.”

“Yes.”

Her smile was both wicked and delighted, and it made my chest tight. “I want to feel my cum in you when I fuck you with my fingers. I want you to feel my cum in you, so you think about how I looked and the sounds I made when I pumped it into you. And while you’re thinking about that, you’re going to look forward to me doing it again and again.”

My sex rippled around her stroking fingers, the rawness of her words pushing me to the brink of orgasm.

“I’m going to tell you all the ways I want you to please me, Camila, and you’re going to do it all…take it all, and we’re going to have explosive, primal, no-holds-barred sex. You know that, don’t you? You can feel how it’ll be between us.”

“Yes,” I breathed, clutching my breasts to ease the deep ache of my hardened nipples. “Please, Lauren.”

“Shh…I’ve got you.” The pad of her thumb rubbed my clitoris in gentle circles. “Look into my eyes when you come for me.”

Everything tightened in my core, the tension building as she massaged my clit and pushed her fingers in and out in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

“Give it up to me, Camila,” she ordered. “Now.”

I climaxed with a thready cry, my grip white-knuckled on the sides of the cushions as my hips pumped onto her hand, my mind far beyond shame or shyness. My gaze was locked to her, unable to look away, riveted by the fierce masculine triumph that flared in her eyes. In that moment she owned me. I’d do anything she wanted. And she knew it.

Searing pleasure pulsed through me. Through the roaring of blood in my ears, I thought I heard her speak hoarsely, but I lost the words when she hooked one of my legs over the back of the couch and covered my cleft with her mouth.

“No—” I pushed at her head with my hands. “I can’t.”

I was too swollen, too sensitive. But when her tongue touched my clit, fluttering over it, the hunger built again. More intense than the first time. she rimmed my trembling slit, teasing me, taunting me with the promise of another orgasm when I knew I couldn’t have one again so quickly.

Then her tongue speared into me and I bit my lip to bite back a scream. I came a second time, my body quaking violently, tender muscles tightening desperately around her decadent licking. Her growl vibrated through me. I didn’t have the strength to push her away when she returned to my clit and sucked softly…tirelessly…until I climaxed again, gasping her name.

I was boneless as she straightened my leg and still breathless when she pressed kisses up my belly to my breasts. she licked each of my nipples, and then hauled me up with her arms banded around my back. I hung lax and pliable in her grip while she took my mouth with suppressed violence, bruising my lips and betraying how close to the edge she was.

she closed my robe; then stood, staring down at me.

“Lauren…?”

“Seven o’clock, Camila.” sHe reached down and touched my ankle, her fingertips caressing the diamond anklet I’d put on in preparation for the evening. “And keep this on. I want to fuck you while you’re wearing nothing else.”