#Orphanage Resource

[ammanannaanadhhaashramam]

Amma Nanna Anadha Ashramam Facing Challenges Facing Challenges

Amma Nanna Orphanage plays a vital role in addressing social problems, particularly in the care of orphans. Despite their noble intentions and efforts, Amma Nanna Orphanage faces many challenges that impact their ability to provide comprehensive care.

Financial Constraints

It relies heavily on donations, grants, and sponsorships to support its activities for orphans. However, it faces significant challenges due to inconsistent or insufficient funding.

Difficulty in meeting basic needs such as food, clothing, and shelter.

Limited access and healthcare.

Delays in infrastructural improvements or repairs within the ashramas.

Staffing and Volunteer Retention

require a dedicated workforce to manage the daily needs of orphans. 

They are struggle with:

Recruiting skilled professionals and healthcare providers, due to budget constraints.

Retaining volunteers and staff who may find the work emotionally taxing or financially unrewarding.

Training staff to handle orphans with diverse emotional and psychological needs.

Regulatory and Bureaucratic Challenges

Ammananna Ashramam must comply with various legal and administrative requirements to operate ashramas. These include:

Obtaining and renewing licenses and permits.

Navigating complex bureaucratic processes, which can be time-consuming and resource-intensive.

Emotional and Psychological Support for Orphans

Orphans often experience trauma, loss, and abandonment, requiring specialized emotional and psychological care. Challenges in this area include:

Limited access to trained counselors or psychologists.

Lack of sufficient resources to implement structured programs for emotional well-being.

Social Integration and Stigma

Orphans in orphanages sometimes face social discrimination and challenges in integrating into mainstream society.

Resistance from communities in accepting orphans as equals.

Difficulty in ensuring equal opportunities for employment.

Prejudice that hampers the orphans self-esteem and development.

Pandemic and Natural Disasters

The COVID-19 pandemic and other natural disasters have exacerbated existing challenges for Amma Nanna Ahsramam. They have had to deal with:

Increased health risks and the need for additional sanitation measures.

Disruptions in funding and supply chains.

Difficulty in maintaining regular healthy food, cothings, and recreational activities due to lockdowns.

Conclusion:

While Amma nanna Ashramam play a vital role in providing care for orphans, they face a multitude of challenges that require urgent attention. By addressing financial, staffing, regulatory, and societal issues, these organizations can create a more supportive and nurturing environment for orphans. Collective efforts from governments, communities, and individuals are essential to ensure the sustainability and effectiveness of ashramas in transforming the lives of orphans.

[yeonban]

I always find it funny when I come across posts about Wammy's House disbanding "now that Near is L" bc logically speaking that wouldn't be the case 😭 after how many of the orphanage's best died to catch ONE criminal (Kira) including L himself, they know better than ever that Near could also drop dead at any point. Even Near himself is aware of this. And then what. Who'll become the next L? Who'll save the world if not for these geniuses? This orphanage's a generational prison I fear

[fastidious-and-a-mess]

whoopsies lost track of time and played skyrim until like 2:30am.

[m00n-d34r3st]

My favorite niche thing about mikey is how he always seem to be super successful when he takes on a career path he's very passionate about and is able to make a name for himself from literary below rock bottom nothing and it blows my mind how it's almost never talked about.

I want more of mikey girlbossing his way out of the sewer, and I need it now.

[wosospacegirl]

Legally binding - Alexia putellas x platonic! r

Summary: Alexia Putellas didn’t plan to become anyone’s legal guardian. But a very determined 12-year-old with a forged Barça contract has other ideas — and she’s already moved in.

Word count: 4k

a/n: if this sounds like a Disney Channel movie, it’s intentional

Part 2

Masterlist

..

Y/n was a smart kid—sharp, resourceful, and quick on her feet. But the social workers at the orphanage, a quiet place run by nuns, always said she was using her intelligence the wrong way. 

They told her she should channel her persistence and curiosity into something more practical. Something like STEM or the arts.

And honestly, Y/n knew they had a pointt. She could do it. She could be anyone she wanted to be—if she just focused on the right path. 

But there was one thing she knew, deep down, more than anything else: she wanted to be a footballer.

It wasn’t a decision. It was just the way her heart beat.

Her love for football begn the first time a social worker brought a ball into the orphanage. It was a modest thing, scuffed and old, but to Y/n, it was the most precious thing in the world. 

She could still remember how the other kids’ faces lit up when they saw it. They didn’t need fancy equipment or a field, just a ball, and sometimes not even that..

They played with whatever they could find, paper balls, socks rolled into bundles, even erasers. 

Anything small enough to be kicked into became a football. It wasn’t about rules or winning. It was about the feeling of freedom.

For Y/n, that ball was more than just a game. It was a doorway to everything she wanted to be.

Y/n couldn’t contain her excitement when one of the nuns called all the children together to announce something that made her heart race.

FC Barcelon was forming a partnership with their orphanage.

A few of the kids, just a select, would get to train at La Masia once a week.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Was it some charity project, a way for the club to get a tax break? Probably.

But when she saw her name on the list, all of that faded into the background.

She didn’t know much about Barça, just that it came from her hometown, from the city she rarely got to see.

The orphanage didn’t have a TV, no access to phones, and the nuns were their only teachers. So, there was no real school either.

Her world was limited to the small walls of the orphanage, and the little knowledge she could gather from the newspapers the nuns allowed her to read

It was her only window to the outside world, her only connection to a life she could only dream of.

Yeah, Y/n was pretty cut off from everything outside. But in that moment, none of that mattered. What mattered was this chance,,a chance to be part of something bigger. 

A chance to step out of the small world that had always confined her.

On her first day at La Masia, Y/n didn’t expect to impress anyone. But when she stepped onto the pitch, she gave it everything she had. 

Her skills spoke for themselves, and by the end of the session, she’d earned a few impressed looks from the staff. 

She wasn’t the fastest or the most polished player, but she held her own, especially considering she didn’t even own a pair of proper football boots. 

She was playing in sneakers that were two sizes too big, but she didn’t care. She was there, and that was enough.

But it wasn’t all easy. 

Some of the girls on the team looked at her like she didn’t belong. 

Technically, they were right. She didn’t. Not with her background. She wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t wealthy, well-connected, or even remotely like the girls who had grown up with football academies and proper training.

Y/n felt the weight of their stares, but she pushed it aside. She wasn’t there to fit in or prove anything to them. 

She was there for herself. She was here for the dream, and that was all that mattered..

Despite the looks, a couple of girls made it easier for her, Jana and Vicky, both around fourteen. 

They were kind and quick to see that she wasn’t like the others. Within minutes, they pulled her into their little group, showing her how things worked and making her feel like she wasn’t invisible.

The kindness didn’t stop there. 

During lunch, when Y/n pulled out her bottle of water and realised she hadn’t packed anything to eat, Jana and Vicky didn’t hesitate.

They shared their sandwiches without a second thought, smiling at her like she wasn’t some outsider but a new friend.

In that moment, Y/n felt something shift inside her. Maybe she didn’t have football boots. Maybe she wasn’t from the right background. But at least for now, she had a place here.

The second time Y/n showed up at La Masia, she couldn’t help but frown when she saw most of the girls huddled together on the left side of the pitch, eyes fixed on something, or someone, at far left.

She couldn’t make out what was going on, but the low murmur of excitement buzzed through the air.

Curious, Y/n walked over, trying to get a better view, but a few elbows shoved her back. She shifted behind the group and stood on tiptoe, trying to peer past the heads of the others.

“Hey, who’s that?” she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter.

Vicky and Jana exchanged a glance, then looked back at her like she’d just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

“Who is that?! Are you kidding me?” Jana said, eyes wide with disbelief.

Y/n raised an eyebrow.

“That’s Alexia Putellas. La Reina,” Jana added, almost reverently.

“Oh,” Y/n said, her brow furrowing. “That’s the queen? What’s she doing here?”

Vicky rolled her eyes playfully. “She’s not really the queen,” she said, though her tone held an edge of affection. “We call her La Reina because she’s Barça royalty. She’s the best of all time. The GOAT, you know.”

Y/n blinked, processing the words. “Goat?” she repeated, confused. “Cabra? What do you mean?”

Jana’s patience clearly wore thin. “Not cabra, Y/n! It stands for ‘Greatest of all time,’ she explained, grabbing both of their hands and pulling them through the crowd. “Come with me, I know where we can actually see her up close.”

Y/n couldn’t help but be intrigued. This Alexia Putellas was more than just a football player—she was something else entirely. And for reasons Y/n didn’t fully understand yet, that something seemed to pull at her.

They ducked under the bleachers, the ground gritty beneath their feet. 

Something warm and sticky brushed against Y/n’s cheek, but she didn’t even flinch. She didn’t care about the dirt or the discomfort, because now she could see Alexia. And, more importantly, she could hear her too.

Alexia was standing a little ways away, her blonde hair shining in the sun. 

She had this calm, open expression, a kind of warmth about her that made Y/n’s chest tighten in a way she couldn’t quite explain. 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but Alexia was nothing like she had imagined. She seemed... accessible. Human, even.

Not like the untouchable royalty that Vicky and Jana made her out to be.

“She’s like... amazing,” Jana whispered, her voice full of awe. “I wanna play with her someday.”

“She’s the best,” Vicky added, nodding in agreement. Her tone was reverent, almost as if she was talking about someone from a distant dream.

Y/n watched Alexia as she spoke with the journalist.

There was something undeniable about the way she held herself. 

Y/n wasn’t sure if she wanted to be like her, or if she wanted Alexia to help her become someone who could stand at that level.

“I came here because of the partnership La Masia formed with the children from Santa Clara Orphanage,” Alexia said, adjusting her jacket as she talked with the interviewer. 

“It’s important to me to meet them, to show them that football isn’t just a game.”

The interviewer nodded, intrigued. 

“It must be so special to be able to offer that to kids who may not have many opportunities to begin with. So, do you have any specific hopes for them? Any wishes for their futures?”

Alexia smiled softly, her gaze thoughtful as she glanced out over the training field. 

“Well, I think what I wish most for them is that they find someone who will guide them, a loving and responsible adult, someone who’s not just looking to be a saviour, but to give them the support they need to succeed.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, her voice more deliberate. 

“And of course, I hope they all follow what’s in their hearts. It doesn’t matter if that’s football, or music, or whatever. They need to feel supported, and they need to know that their dreams are valid, no matter what those dreams are.”

The interviewer smiled, clearly moved. 

“That’s beautiful , Alexia...so, you’re saying you see your role more as a guide, rigrh? Rather than someone who swoops in to fix everything for them?”

Alexia chuckled lightly, shaking her head. 

“Exactly. I’m not here to fix anyone. Barcelona is here creating opportunities, giving them the tools they need, and letting them choose their own path. They’re the ones who will shape their futures.”

Loving and responsible adult.

That sentence echoed in Y/n’s brain.

Alexia hoped the kids from her orphanage would find a loving and responsible adult.

Well, Y/n was from Santa Clara. And Alexia looked like a loving and responsible adult…

It all fit together perfectly.

Y/n’s mind raced as she replayed Alexia’s words over and over again. “Loving and responsible adult…”

What did that even mean? Y/n wasn’t sure, but she knew she didn’t need a parent. 

She had never craved that. 

She didn’t need someone to love her, to fix her, or to give a version of a family. What she needed, what she wanted, was an opportunity. 

And Alexia? She was the opportunity. She was the bridge between Y/n and the future she wanted.

Becoming a footballer wasn’t about being loved. It was about getting the right connections, the right guidance, the right support. Y/n didn’t care for a hug or a bedtime story. 

She didn’t need to be told “I love you” every night. No,, what she needed was someone who could get her into the right circles, someone who knew how to navigate the world she wanted to break into.

And Alexia? She was the perfect fit. 

She was a champion, the best of the best, according to the girls. 

If Y/n could convince Alexia to be her guardian, then maybe—just maybe—her dream could become real. 

She could train harder, learn more, and eventually, one day, be just like Alexia. And that, she thought, would be enough.

It was simple: Y/n needed Alexia to help her make her dream come true. That’s all. She wasn’t asking for a family. She just needed someone to show her the way.

..

The next morning, Y/n went straight to the orphanage library and got her hands on any book that mentioned Spain’s adoption laws.

And there it was.

In the third paragraph about adoption and guardianship, it said any child twelve or older could be placed under guardianship by an adult willing to sign the paperwork. 

It wouldn’t be full adoption, no name change, but the child could live with the adult, go to school, and get medical care under their name.

Kind of like a shortcut to being adopted. And since older kids were rarely chosen, this process was easier.

Y/n made her decision.

She was going to be adopted by Alexia Putellas. Whether Alexia liked it or not.

..

A few weeks later, the La Masia kids were rewarded with a tour of FC Barcelona’s official building.

That was the moment Y/n had been waiting for.

She memorised the entire guardianship clause and wrote it on her hand. Then, during the tour, she slipped away when one of the monitors wasn’t looking and headed for the second floor.

She found a room labelled Management and Contracts. It looked serious enough.

She locked the door behind her, walked over to a computer, and typed in the password.

ViscaElBarça. Easy.

She searched until she found Alexia Putellas’ contract. Jana had told her the star player was about to sign a new five-year deal.

Y/n opened the file, converted the PDF to a Word doc, scrolled to page thirteen, and inserted a paragraph in Arial size 3, a forged clause labelled 12(b) stating that:

‘Ms. Alexia Putellas Segura, herein referred to as 'the Guardian,' consents to and accepts full legal guardianship of minor Y/n [Full Legal Name], age twelve, a wardd of the Santa Clara Orphanage, n the contractual agreement between Futbol Club Barcelona and the Santa Clara Children’s Welfare Foundation. This guardianship shall be recognised in accordance with applicable civil codes and is binding upon execution.]

Then she turned the document back into a PDF and quietly saved it.

Her plan was perfect.

She was going to be adopted by the greatest footballer the world had ever seen, according to Jana, nd that would make her a great footballer, too.

..

A week later, Y/n was the first at the front door, waiting for the paper deliveryman. One of the nuns gave her a strange look,no one ever beat the nuns to morning prayers, let alone the newspaper, but Y/n didn’t care. 

She needed to know if Alexia had signed the guardianship contract

And there it was.

Right on the front page.

“Alexia Putellas signs new deal with Barcelona Femení.”

“Yes!” Y/n whispered to herself, pumping a fist. “I’m officially out of here.”

She ran back to her room, the one she shared with six other girls, all still fast asleep, grabbed her tiny backpack, and packed up the few belongings she had. 

Three shirts, one pair of sneakers, a toothbrush, and three old photos from her childhood. That was it. That was her life in a bag.

She made her way to the main office and knocked on Sister Maria’s door, but didn’t bother waiting for permission to enter.

Good morning, Sister Maria,” Y/n said, standing up straight, her voice unusually serious for a twelve-year-old.

The nun didn’t even look up from her desk. “What is it now, Y/n? No, you still can’t keep that stray cat—how many times do I have to tell you—”

“It’s not about the cat,” Y/n interrupted. “I’m here to say my sincere goodbyes.”

Sister Maria blinked and finally looked up.

“Goodbyes? Are you eighteen already? My goodness, how time flies.”

“No, Sister,” Y/n said. “I’ve been adopted.”

Silence.

“Adopted?” Sister Maria echoed. “Someone… wanted you?”

“I know,” Y/n said, unfazed. “Hard to believe. But yes. You can check the system. It’s official.”

If everything had gone according to plan—and Y/n was confident it had—the guardianship contract Alexia signed had already been processed by the Ministry of Sport and forwarded to the Ministry of Family Affairs. 

Which meant it would be reflected in Y/n’s file.

Sister Maria sat down at her computer, muttering prayers under her breath. A few tense minutes passed before she gasped.

“Oh dear Lord. You were adopted. A legal guardianship contract, signed and approved.”

“Exactly,” Y/n said. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a new home to get to.”

She turned toward the door, but Sister Maria reached out and gently stopped her.

“Here,” she said, holding out a few crumpled euro notes. “For the metro.”

Y/n blinked at the money. “The metro?”

“Yes. How else are you getting to your new guardian’s house? They aren’t picking you up, right?”

Y/n paused.

Right. She hadn’t exactly figured that part out yet. 

Jana once mentioned that some of the players lived in an apartment complex near the training grounds… maybe she’d start there.

“Thank you, Sister,” Y/n said, taking the money.

“Be good,” Sister Maria said gruffly. “We don’t want you back.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/n replied with a grin. “I’m not coming back.”

..

Alexia had played in front of ninety thousand people.

She had captained both club and country, stood on podiums with medals heavy around her neck, even delivered a speech in Parliament once, with a microphone that cut out every third word and a sea of ministers blinking up at her.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared her for walking into her apartment at seven o’clock on a Wednesday night and finding a twelve-year-old girl sitting on her sofa.

Just. Sitting there.

Like she lived there.

Alexia froze mid-step, one boot still halfway on, the keys slipping loose from her fingers and clattering to the floor.

“…Por dios? [Oh God]” she said, her voice suddenly higher than she remembered it being. “Quién eres tú? [Who are you?]”

The girl turned around, perfectly calm, as if the famous footballer bursting into the room hadn’t startled her in the slightest. 

“Oh. Hi,” the girl said casually, her legs tucked underneath her,

Alexia blinked. “Who are you?”

The girl tilted her head, eyebrows raised like Alexia was the confusing part of this entire situation. “You’re Alexia Putellas, right?”

“…Yes?

“Perfect,” the girl said, brightening. “Then everything’s fine. I’m at the right house.”

She patted the cushion beside her invitingly.

“Do you want to sit?”

Alexia recoiled like it was cursed. “No, I do not want to sit...what...how did you get in here?”

She looked around wildly, as if the answer might be hiding behind the kitchen island or crouched behind the bookshelf. 

Maybe someone would burst in, yelling sorpresa! [surprise!] and explain this whole insane setup. Maybe she had fallen asleep in the car and was dreaming this.

“The window was unlocked,” the girl said.

“It wasn’t.”

“Well,” she replied, stretching her arms over the back of the sofa, “then I’m very resourceful.”

Alexia’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“It’s the third floor,” she hissed, stumbling backwards until her hip hit the counter. She stared at the kid. “Did you scale the building?”

The girl only smiled.

“Okay. Noo. No, absolutely not. What is happening right now?”

The girl, still nameless, reached into her backpack and pulled out a thick folder. 

It wasn’t a school folder. 

It was a serious folder. One with a fake FC Barcelona letter and, horrifyingly, red stamp across the front that read:

LEGAL ADDENDUM.

She handed it over like it explained everything.

Alexia took it with both hands, mostly because her brain had stopped functioning somewhere around the phrase “unlocked window.” 

Inside was a single newspaper clipping—cut out so unevenly it looked like a toddler had done it—with a photo of Alexia signing her contract.

“There was a clause,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “In your new contract.”

Alexia stared at her, her mouth dry. “A clause.”

“Yep. Clause twelve, subsection B. Guardianship exception.”

Alexia blinked. “Guardianship. Exception.”

“Uhum.”

“For whom?”

“For me.”

The girl pulled out more papers, each one worse than the last. 

One had what appeared to be the signature of the ‘King of Spain’—in blue marker. Another was a crayon drawing of a house, two stick figures holding hands, labelled “Me and Alexia

Alexia's eyes widened in pure horror.

“Where is your mother?” she asked slowly.

The girl beamed. “You’re my mom now!”

Alexia dropped the folder like it had burned her.

“I’m what?”

Alexia stared, mouth open, the girl beamed like this was the best news ever.

Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not.

“Kidding,” the girl said, flashing a grin. “Kind of. You said in that interview last month that you hoped all the orphan kids would find a loving, responsible adult.”

Alexia’s jaw dropped. “And what the hell does that have to do with… with this?”

“You said you adored us.” The girl’s voice got quiet—barely a whisper. “I figured… I adored you too. So.”

Something in Alexia’s chest twitched.

The girl looked up at her with the sort of fierce, casual defiance only kids had. 

“I’m an orphan. If you didn’t get that already. So you don’t have to worry about like, my real parents showing up or anything.”

Alexia pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’m going to get arrested.”

“No, you’re not,” the girl said cheerfully, already lounging deeper into the cushions. “You’re Alexia Putellas. Who’s gonna arrest you?”

Alexia stared at her—this strange, sharp-edged, audacious child who had just moved in like it was the most obvious thing in the world—and let out a weak, exhausted noise from the back of her throat.

“This,” she muttered, “this is exactly why I don’t do interviews.

Her brain was racing with thoughts of calling lawyers, agents, and possibly the police, but she couldn’t quite make herself move. 

The absurdity of the situation was almost paralysing.

The girl, this little stranger, was sitting on her sofa, hands folded in her lap, staring at the television like it was an alien object. 

Her brows were furrowed in concentration.

Alexia watched her for a moment, then shook her head. 

This was unreal.

The silence between them stretched until the girl looked up, her expression expectant.

“So, uh,” she began, her voice a little tentative, “what’s for dinner?”

The question hit Alexia hard.

Dinner. Right. She hadn’t even thought about food yet, too distracted by the miniature crisis unfolding in her living room.

She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sudden growl of her own stomach.

Alexia closed her eyes in frustration.

“Well, kid, I—” She stopped herself before the words could spill out. She wasn’t exactly prepared for this situation, wasn’t prepared for any of it. 

But as she stood there, her mind raced. She’d have to figure out how this was even possible. 

But right now?

Right now, the girl needed food.

With a resigned sigh, Alexia turned towards the kitchen, opening the fridge with one hand, still clutching the paperwork the girl had handed her in the other.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” she muttered under her breath. “This is insane.”

And yet... she still opened the fridge. Still started pulling ingredients. Like feeding this girl—this strange, stubborn kid–somehow made sense.

She’s probably hungry, Alexia thought. 

She broke into my apartment, but she’s just a child. A very determined, mildly terrifying child.

She sighed. God help me.

She glanced over her shoulder to find the girl still sitting there, waiting patiently.

“Have you ever had dinner like...this?” Alexia asked, unsure how to phrase it without sounding too out of place.

The girl looked up at her, an odd sort of quiet in her eyes. “Not like this. Not... regular–we just had soup.”

Alexia felt something tighten in her chest, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Well, kid,” Alexia said, her voice softer than she intended. “You’re about to have something regular.”

She grabbed whatever was in reach—leftover pasta, a couple of eggs, and some questionable vegetables—and set to work. 

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Something stable. Something she could handle right now.

The girl didn’t talk again, just watched Alexia prepare the food like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Maybe this wasn’t a disaster… at least not yet. But Alexia knew she was barely holding it together. Jjust barely.

And, for now, feeding this girl was the only thing she could focus on.

..

a/n: honestly, this was just a random idea that wouldn’t leave me alone, so I had to write it down. I’m not sure if there’ll be more, but I had a blast writing it and just wanted to share! :D

Part 2

[misspantymime]

Bat x Family ("A Girl?")

a/n: I'm still writing the scene where Reader and Bruce meet so please enjoy this prelude before that!

tw: mentions of human trafficking.

Taglist: @c4xcocoa, @shinning-stars, @whognuthis, @dkddkdkdkdkdkdk, @nisarelle, @tree-ag, @welpthisisboringing, @sugary-strawberry-shortcake,

Anya Forger! Child! Reader x Yandere! Platonic! Batfam

It had been in the wake of a recent trafficking bust by the GCPD when Bruce found out; that morning's front paper had a picture of a dilapidated building blocked off by caution tape and various squad cars.  

It’s not like the dingy and dilapidated building particularly stood out in any way. If anything, it fits right in with the slums of Gotham. Gray, with stone work almost slumped shamefully in on itself, the building was completely non-descript. And if that was all it was, then it could have been left well enough alone.

However, this desolate building was, for all intents and purposes, an orphanage.

As a whole, orphanages have been mostly phased out by governments around the world. A plethora of studies have shown the detriment of institutionalization of children; in the best case scenario, it only results in feelings of social isolation, however the worst cases involve trafficking and abuse. The foster-care system was the only remains of the previous institutions. That was the case in Gotham City as well.

Therefore, as a concept, this building should not exist.

However, an unknown “benefactor” seemed to be keeping the small building running. And more than few unsavory individuals were tied to the orphanage in one way or another, be it through less than literal paper trails or outright disappearances of children.

Not much talk of it had been passed around the Gotham Underworld, and any mention of it seemed to invoke an uncomfortable silence. Most remained tight lipped on the whole affair.

And it had been enough to be on the radar of Batman

However, the night he was set to investigate the location personally, there was a breakout at Arkham. Understandably, that required most of his attention, so he sent word to Red Hood about a potential deal occurring along with the coordinates.

But he should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it.

The night had run him ragged and most resources had been allocated to the breakout, so any follow up on the intel he provided Red Hood were lost in the channels. He was confident that Red Hood would know what to do with the information, so it came as a surprise to hear from Gordon early the next morning.

It was a bit unrefined, but Bruce did sleep in that morning. Which was so rudely interrupted by Alfred with a phone in his hand.

“Master Wayne?”

“Hrrg…” Bruce groaned as he rolled over in bed, like a petulant child not ready for school quite yet.

Rather than see it, he felt Alfred roll his eyes subtly before pushing forward, “Commissioner Gordan is on the phone. He is adamant on speaking with you.”

With a sigh, Bruce dragged himself from the tempting depths of his sheets. It took him more time, and assistance from Alfred, than he’d like to admit to pull himself together into something somewhat presentable. In the end, he was seated at the dinner table with a cup of coffee in a robe. Damian seemed to already have been dropped off at school and Tim was more than likely still asleep, after pulling two subsequent all-nighters.

When the phone finally reached him, it struck him how silent Gordon had remained. After a courtesy greeting, Gordon got down to business.

“It’s about the human trafficking case last night. You saw it already, right?”

“Hard not to. It’s all over the papers.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Gordon cleared his throat. “The whole ‘orphanage’ cover got them so far, but we got a tip-off about what was going on-”

‘Good. Looks like Red Hood pulled through.’

“-Wasn’t much left of them when we got there. Took everything that wasn’t nailed down. Only one we found was the potential buyer.”

‘Or not.’

Bruce sighed, “Nothing else?”

“Nothing except…”

“Except?” 

“Bruce…they were kids. A dozen of them. Oldest couldn't be more than seven.”

He fell silent.

It was only logical; an orphanage required children, after all. Still, the idea left a sour taste in his mouth, and twisted his face into an expression only Alfred could decipher as a grimace. 

“Yes, I expected that. But why are you–?”

“Bruce, there’s this girl.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, and… there’s nothing on her.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

“I mean nothing. The rest of the kids, we could at least find some paper trails on them. Birth certificates, missing child reports, even if they’re old, anything. But her? Nothing.”

“But you think..?”

“I don’t think. I know. We ran a DNA test on her and Bruce… she’s yours”

If he was a less composed man, Bruce would have spit out the sip of coffee he had taken to quell the sharp taste on his tongue.

Instead, Bruce choked on it.

a/n: I'm trying to keep things light-hearted, but faithful to the source material. Did it work? Maybe? I'm taking inspiration from the anime and from Wayne Family Adventure (which is really fun give it a read)

[laswells-ashtray]

Can we talk about Mommy/Daddy issues and how they manifest? I've been throat-punched by both (Hooray) but I'm curious on your thoughts about who in the CODverse might have them and how they manifest.

Coincidentally, you caught me on the day I'd been throat punched by both, and thus, I am at my best to write this. Genuinely, of all days to receive this ask, it was the day I found myself pondering how my father takes up 1/4 of a page in my family photo album, and then I sat down in the shower for a while.

John can't listen to any recordings of his voice; it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He sounds like his father. When he barks orders at people, he sounds like his father. Only his voice is followed by the whir of a bullet, not the cracking of a belt. He refuses to shave his face unless necessary because only after he grew a beard did he stop seeing Sr. in the mirror.

Ghost looks more like his mother than his father. On the best of days, it's his saving grace. On the worst of days, he avoids mirrors and winces when he catches his reflection on a screen. He sees women of a similar height and hair colour to his mother and hesitates for just a moment, the word mum stuck in his throat. Grown men can scream in his face, and it means nothing to him. The disappointed tone of a woman older than him makes his hands shake.

Nikolai is at the age where most people just assume his parents are dead. He doesn't know, he'll never know, he'll never want to know. He's detached from the idea of having parents. It's a foreign concept in his mind. He isn't sure if he looks like either of them because he can't remember their faces as well as he used to. It's meaningless to him. He isn't the son they expected him to be, therefore, he won't claim the name of the son they wanted. He tells people his parents are dead, a cancer of some kind. He doesn't care for their sympathies.

Kate's parents are dead; they have been for a while. She doesn't think of them often and when she does, it's typically with love, but she doesn't forget the fact that they missed the best parts of her life. However, their death pushed her to get where she is today, so without the loss, she wouldn't have that life. It leaves her conflicted, and she won't talk about it, but she grieves the moments they missed. She'll drink to their memory, or her sorrow. She decides which depending on how little is in the bottle.

Not a moment goes by where Farah doesn't miss her parents. She doesn't seek replacements in those around her; she never could. But she braids her hair, and she grieves the beauty her mother held. She offers someone kind words of reassurance and feels her father's arms around her, promising her safety so long as he lives. She makes decisions to protect her people and ponders what her parents would say of her fate and that she subjected her brother to. Her passion for her people is sacred because her tone echoes that of her parents.

Rudy has never known how to act around male authority figures. He was orphaned so young that he has no memories of his parents. He grew up in an orphanage with women who did their best with what little resources they had to save their children from the drug-riddled fates they had seen many follow. He trusts women; if a woman gives him advice, then he's likely to follow it. He grew up with women. When grown men tell him things and expect things of him, he stares back at them blankly. They place a hand on his shoulder, and he gently nudges it away. They have nothing to offer him. Men trying to take authority over him, especially in a parental type of context, antagonises him. He grew up without a man in charge, and he's survived until now; he doesn't need anyone to try and start at this point in his life.

[absolute-decay]

Do you think in the most twisted, misguided, disgusting, and almost idiotic way, Chisaki saw his young self in Eri, and thought he would be to her what the boss was to him. Like. This lost young orphaned child with nothing but the clothes on their back taken in by a Yakuza. That's literally their only similarities but do you think Chisaki decided that was enough? That he should be the one to "save" her?

I know it sounds ridiculous but just stick with me here.

This single image from chapter 136 screams so fucking much about Kai's brain and his relationship with Eri to me. Because ask yourself. "Why doesn't Kai just put Eri into a coma like he did The Boss?" Because that would solve so many of his problems. No chance of Eri escaping. No chance of any Heroes finding out about her. There'd be minimal resources spent on her since all he needs is to keep her alive regardless of physical condition. It literally solves everything, it almost feels like a plot hole. But then you remember the fact that Eri was entrusted to Kai by The Boss, and then you take another look at the image above, and it kinda clicks, doesn't it?

He doesn't do that because he genuinely, truly wants to take care of Eri. He might even really see himself as her father figure. And I think that makes so much sense, especially with his other relationships. Case in point, Shin Nemoto.

We saw the results of Shin using his Quirk on Kai, and he says straight up, "I like you, I trust you, your presence makes me feel at ease." And he didn't even seem shocked or upset after saying it, so it wasn't a truth he was unaware of or didn't want Shin to know. That's simply how he felt, cut and dry. But, with that being the truth, he was more than willing to use him as an expendable asset, have him be a fall guy after the raid with the other Bullets, and fuse with him, which he seems to believe will fucking kill him. That's not Kai using a pawn: That's just how Kai is with someone he cares about.

So, it wouldn't be far fetched to say, the same applies to Eri, and that really does recontextualize every one of their scenes, huh?

"You're the centerpiece of my plan."

"To this girl, you're no hero."

"You're cursed, every action you take kills someone."

"Someone else is going to die because of you!"

"She doesn't want you."

None of this is manipulation or scare tactics or anything like that. This is just what Kai thinks of humans. That he can hurt and pull and abuse them in the worst ways possible, and do it over and over again, and not understand when they want to run away. And I feel like him being raised in one of Garaki's "orphanages" just rubs salt into this wound.

Because, he takes care of Eri, doesn't he? He gets her toys and a pretty room and a soft bed, and he's nice and calm with her, doesn't even use his quirk to kill her and bring her back to life painfully as punishment! He doesn't seem to be physical with her at all, outside of the blood extractions. She has everything a girl could ask for, and she spurns him? Runs from him? Well, no matter. That's just how children are. Ignorant, illogical, they just don't make sense.

...It's such an incredibly fucked up way of thinking. And I think it's ingrained so deeply in Kai's mind because it's what he thinks he never had.

I think the way he treats Eri is how he thinks loving parents would have treated him. Pretty toys and nice clothes and good food and absolutely nowhere in his mind does any genuine relationship dynamics or aspects of unique personality come into play because after years and years of not having it he just. Doesn't. Get it.

So that's why it's lacking in his relationship with Eri. In all of his relationships, really. Because The Boss took him in and loved him and cared for him and Kai knows that but he doesn't understand that. So he's trying his best to "love" and "raise" Eri by being an empty photocopy of a parent at his best, because that's all he is. That's what defines Kai, till the very end.

He's empty. And so is his love. So Eri's room will always be full.

[littlevioletart]

Ever since she was sent to the orphanage, Lucille wore more boyish clothing. It was partly due to limited resources, but she was okay with it—they were more practical, and blending in as a boy made roaming the streets easier.

But when she finally had to wear new clothes, and Mitzi lent her a very old dress of hers (first image), Lucille was very excited. She was always into girly things, and the chance to embrace that part of herself once more filled her with pure joy 🌸✨

[niwaart]

I'm a new writer.. but hey...

did you think before about what if Bruce had a relationship with a woman for one day when he was drunk and he was a young man of 20 or older, which led to this woman getting pregnant Bruce did not know about this because he was drunk when he slept with the woman..... Anyway, the woman became pregnant, and did not tell Bruce because she was afraid of criticism from society and so on, so imagine that the woman died while giving birth to her son (Bruce's son as well) and then this boy was placed in an orphanage because they did not know the identity of the father (or they were poor and did not have money To do a DNA test and did not want to waste their resources on a child that no one searched for), the point of what I am saying is what if the reader grew up and became 24 years old (maybe older than Dick?) and became a doctor, and one day because of Bruce or Batman's relationships with the hospital in emergency cases, someone discovers that the reader's official name is not ""Y/n Solan"" as they thought But his real name in official and legal files is ""Y/N WAYNE""..... Fortunately or unfortunately, the person who discovered this knew Bruce very well, so he simply called Bruce to tell him what he had found. what do think will happen?.... also our Y/N found when he was 16 who is his father, but he love his life now and doesn't like to be in the shine as Bruce, so he just like I don't know you and you don't know me

What do think? Should I make it a story or not?

[phoenixyfriend]

Tony Stark & Natasha Romanova, now in Star Wars

IDK if you folks were ever MEGA into crossovers but did you ever engage with the kind that can more or less be summarized as "isekai but the person 'hit by truck-kun' is a character from a different canon?"

Because that's what this is.

Tony Stark isekai'd into Star Wars (random planet) after dying in Endgame. He knows the movies, but not the supplemental material, as even by the time TPM came out, he was thirty and fucked up and making a name for himself in war. Bad times.

Tony wakes up sixteen and with Nothing to his name but his skills. He does not speak the language. Mostly gets by doing shit like skinning potatoes for a kitchen and pulling weeds and whatnot while he catches up on Basic. (He is apparently fluent, or at least conversational, in French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, and Dari. So Basic would be his Seventh language, and while four of those can be lumped into 'if you learn one, the next will be easier,' Dari is wildly unrelated, so I'd say he could pick up Basic a bit faster than average, especially with 16yo brain elasticity.)

A toddler, two years old with intensely red hair, runs into his shins one day and yells his name very clearly. He looks down, is a little confused, and then a nearby carer from an orphanage jogs up yelling "Nat!" The toddler is Natasha Romanoff. She remembers everything, including dying, but is about twenty-five pounds soaking wet and NOBODY will take her seriously.

It takes some… effort, to explain the situation to the carer. Yes, Tony knows Nat. He worked with uh…. her 'older brother, a man named Clint.' Tony does not currently have the resources for anyone to legally give him custody of a toddler but he's got some motivation to secure housing and a stable income.

He does that. Gets Natasha with him because of course he has to do that. It's the one person he knows. It's Nat.

Turns out she's Force Sensitive, though. A 'natural extension' of her more skillgrinding abilities to read/manipulate people. Tony is not Force Sensitive but he DID recently have a medical episode that took him to a thankfully-government-funded clinic that informed him he has a Bad Heart and will require a pacemaker despite being seventeen.

A Jedi finds Nat while passing through and they Discuss Their Options. This is when Nat is about four. There is a heavy discussion about how her mind is older than her body, so the Jedi would need to be ready for that, but also Tony needs to discuss this with Nat, who was like thirty-nine(?) when she died and thus more than capable of making her own decisions.

Despite fandom generally painting Tony as the most selfish of the Avengers and Natasha as the most coldly practical, they are still heroes who put in some Fucking Effort to become better people, and they come to the conclusion that Natasha would do much more to help this galaxy as a Jedi than as some kid in poverty on a no-name planet. So off she goes!

She's like five years younger than Obi-Wan, the story reveals.

Tony is a bit aimless and the work he's BEEN doing (probably laying down electrical lines or something at this point, IDK, he got into construction or something) gets sideswept by Damage To A Tool. He knows how to fix the tool, but he does not have a forge.

There is a forge in town. He goes to it and says that he can't afford to ask to have it fixed, but he knows how to do it himself, so could he borrow access for a small fee?

This is a Mandalorian armorer. They say no. In fact, they tell him, that would be significantly more expensive than just getting it fixed.

Buuuuuuuuuut for Reasons, the armorer decides that Tony (now 18-19 physically) can do it so long as the Armorer supervises. Tony is competent Enough that the Armorer gives him a datapad and tells him to read it and come back in a week to discuss the topic. Tony warns that Basic is far from his first language and he doesn't have a whole lot of free time, so he probably won't have read it by then. That's fine, they'll just discuss what he has read.

It's about Mando culture, in a mildly propaganda-y way, and Tony comes back to Argue About Religion more than anything. He thinks the Armorer is proselytizing, which they kind of are, but they are also more than happy to discuss the lines between the Mando culture as ethnicity and culture and religion and so on.

This becomes a regular occurence. Tony has made A Friend who has started offering him a side gig doing Basic Village Blacksmith Work that the Armorer deems too menial, like "horse"shoes.

Tony is offered an apprenticeship that he did not expect, on the condition of Becoming Mandalorian.

This is. A heavy decision.

However. Tony is a guy who is at least partly defined by his cool armor. Mandalorians are defined by their cool armor. He has been told, several times, that there are multiple ways to be a Mandalorian. So he accepts, because he decides it's worth for the chance to be somebody who can make a difference in a way he currently can't.

Ten years later, 'Initiate Romanova' goes up to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon as they prepare to leave, and neatly informs them that she has a feeling they are going to have a Bad Time on their mission in Mandalore, and that if they need emergency shelter from enemies, to go to an Armorer by the name of Tony Stark, because that's her brother so she knows that he's going to be friendly to Jedi. (Tony has sent her a small handful of messages, through channels both official and not, about big life events.)

Of course, shit hits the fan and the two plus Satine end up finding Tony's forge and he hides them in his Underground Bunker, which actually has a tunnel to a cave system that is safer than the bunker itself. Because reasons. (IN A CAVE. WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS.)

He has helper droids! They are named indirectly after friends from the Past Life, things like Spangles.

On their way back after the mission they swing by to say hi and he asks them to bring something to Natasha and it's a matryoshka doll set he made based on the Avengers (it goes based on age so the outermost is Thor, followed by I think Bruce, Rhodey, Tony, Clint, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Wanda, Vision), as well as a plushie he had custom made by somebody in town of a Bird With Archery Gear, even though she's too old for that stuff.

Even among the Jedi, Natasha is WEIRD and SERIOUS and everyone's pretty damn sure she's going to be a Shadow, or at least do a HECK of a lot of undercover work.

IDK how this plays out but Tony is definitely keeping an eye on politics so he can figure out the Palpatine rise to power and remind Natasha in case she's forgotten because when they first split they didn't, either of them, know what to expect in regards to her memory given the whole Baby Brain issue.

"Why is Tony an Armorer"

Okay some more thoughts!

I think Tony's aggressively atheist and consistently watching whoever claims to be Mand'alor with a critical eye in case he has to step in, and does not take any references to ka'ra with any real seriousness. That said. He's an Armorer now. A weird one who refuses like half his clients for Ethics Reasons, but technically a cultural authority figure who's allowed to argue with the Mand’alor.

@penpalpixie:

fsr the initial meeting scenario with the armorer bugs me,like would they really just let him" but tbf Tony knows how to steamroll people and could probably dissect the forge in an instant.

Which, yeah, in my defense, I put this together in about two hours so some of it's a bit wonk? BUT. @threebea had a good suggestion for how/why the Armorer had Tony actually do things in the forge instead of telling him to scram:

Maybe Tony has been doing some 'crafting' on the side maybe droid repairs or modifications which is how the Armorer first sort of hears about him and then one day there's the kid that people have been mentioning the Stars aligned here's a pamphlet. He can't make a living off gizmos in his situation since most of what Star wars has is advanced tech and to do anything impressive he would need more resources and more of an understanding of the mathematics of this universe (Stares at ceiling one night trying to figure out if the law of relativity would be a thing here). That might slow him down just like… his math doesn't actually work here so on top of language he would have to learn things to do complicated stuff that he could already buy for a credit. But with armory it's concepts he knows well and adding weapons to armor especially no lethal ones is something he also knows. Mandalorian armor with UNI BEAM

When it comes to canon, he knows THE big thing (Palpatine is Sidious) and basically nothing else. He thinks he remembers the clones being Mando? but he's honestly not even sure he remembers the original Fett's first name correctly. He knows the guy is a Fett, because Boba was a cultural mainstay for Tony's childhood, so like, it was nice to have some backstory, but he's honestly not sure how likely "that baby Mand'alor that went missing" is to being Boba's plot-relevant dad. Could be an uncle for all he knows, or just a guy with the same last name.

@firebirdeternal:

I feel like to keep things fair Tony should be able to scale up a little harder than the average Mandalorian. Yeah all his tech knowledge is a bit out-dated and he isn't likely to get an arc reactor running in a way that'll be more powerful than anything locally available, but I feel like he'd adapt pretty darn quickly to available tech and start Improving Things Nat's skills all translate extremely well, once she's not got stumpy toddler body she's basically back to her old level PLUS telekinesis and wibbly force nonsense although I understand if that's also not the focus of the fic, being less "And now there's some Avengers Here (Powerset)" and more "And now there's some Avengers Here (Attitudes and Characters)"

Nat is very excited to Break Into Tony's Cave.

NGL this was initially going to be a Tony Raises Nat thing but I couldn't ultimately justify her NOT going the Jedi route after I realized I wanted her to be Sensitive.

There was also a discarded plot idea about her being a little older and having gone undercover in death watch, because Tony got kidnapped to work for them and got through to her, where she gets to use her Bites as a teen but I scrapped it.

I do think she successfully argues to her Master to visit him at 14 to get light armor though.

Nat's the sneakiest little initiate and also. Very, very controlled in the scary way during spars.

Bea:

Natasha as a Jedi is so good. Like, she would probably have a bit of dissonance between Jedi training and the training she received as a child, and it might help her work through some things. Nat: I've known Yoda for three days but if anything happened to him I would kil-- wait uh (pivots) I would be very sad. She would try to sneak up on council members. It is like a kitten stalking a cat on the outside, but also she's a grown woman and wants to be that good. (AU of this If Quinlan ever saw this he'd adopt her: Quinlan: Tholme I found a new padawan sister. Get training Tholme: [literally just finished with Quinlan. Had planned to take a vacation. Meditate. Drink. He loves his kid but needs literally a moment here] Tholme: She's seven. Quinlan: I was four. Tholme: … Quinlan: She has a secret tragic background toooo I know you like that 😄 Tholme: [Sigh] Nat: …wait is he supposed to be Sherlock Holmes. I think he's space Sherlock Holmes. Need to ask Tony if Star Wars had Sherlock Holmes? lol yeah Tholme just feels like he could blend well with an avengers story, and a Black Widow story in particular)

Not joking when I say I considered if I could squeeze Tholme into the timeline.

Tony sends her music files that he thinks sounds Particularly Ballet to her because he remembers how much she liked dancing, as the main or even only positive thing from her Red Room training, and how she once said that if she hadn't become a spy, she thinks she'd have liked to be a ballerina.

The first time they see each other in person in years is her visiting for baby armor at 14 and is hesitant to hug him because like. Yeah he's her "brother" and there were a few years where they were acting as such and he was helping her with Basic Tasks that she doesn't like to think about too much because it's embarrassing, and they cuddled THEN, because she was Physically Baby, but they're just coworkers in reality, right? Should she hug him? If only to sell the bit to her Jedi Master?

Tony is also not the most huggy person and isn't sure if HE should hug Nat because he remembers jokey stabbing threats from when they were Avengers and like. Does she still feel that way, now that she's not a bumbling like tot?

They are both unsure of if hugging is on the table and it's the Jedi Master who says "you know, you're allowed to hug, if you want" under the impression that they aren't sure if the Jedi would allow it. And then the hug is very tight and loving because at least subconsciously they DID both want that.

The Jedi Master takes a pic.

Bea:

Jedi master: (aw) It's one of those "we've been in life or death situations together and also grew up together kinda sorta and also we're trauma bonded," and the first opportunity to solidify Family as their dynamic they both jump in feet first. And both of them were like. Extremely lonely children probably. In different ways but still.

(It's why the Hawkeye plushie didn't make her CRY, per se, but she does start keeping it in her bed even though she's Too Old for these things.)

When it comes to hugging, Nat is understandably concerned about overstepping and like. "Taking" Morgan's place. (I'm going with Tony and Nat being friends (or at least friendly) from A1 to A2, and during the blip she stopped by for dinner once in a while. Nat doing her best to bring Child Appropriate Gifts for Morgan (she misses being Aunt Nat for the Barton kids).) Or as Bea put it: Tony: Are you spying on me or are we doing people things? Nat: Can't it be both?

Anyway, their dynamic is a weird little midpoint once they're in Star Wars but then they get to a point in the armor making where Tony takes a break on a bench and she slips in under his arm to cuddle and it's just Nice (even though he's kinda sweaty and gross from the blacksmithing).

Bea:

Tony: ….. so……. is Yoda… does he look like… is he…. Nat: …???? Tony: You saw the Muppets right? Is he still a Muppet? Nat: [totally has seen the Muppets] what's a Muppet? Tony: You're killing your brother, Nat ;A;

Also the comedy of having MULTIPLE "secret languages" that nobody can translate.

It's handy, too. Between her and Tony, but also lots of languages to give different uses to. Can teach one to a specific faction for communication. OH, the poor Threepio units! She got stuck in a room with one once, and don't get my wrong, they can pick up a language fast, but they need to hear long enough sampling of it. Nat: I'm not teaching you stop asking I do agree too that Tony and Nat no matter their circumstances would be working towards stopping Palpatine. Like is this a real space is this a dream is this another dimension that just happens to be like a movie in ours? Doesn't matter the dictator is going down.

The Jedi Master is somewhat aware of the whole 'used to be an adult, sort of' thing. I don't know that they believe she's linearly matured but probably they think it's something like what I did in Jedi Babies It's definitely more explicit with a mind healer she got assigned soon after arrival.

She didn't decide whether to play it straight and "get help" or just try to game the system until she was actually sitting down. But she'd been having screaming night terrors about things she experienced in her first life, so.

Pixie:

She meets Anakin after TPM (if it's not avoided) when Obi-Wan's trying to settle him in and goes "ah, I know how to handle this kid." At some point Anakin and Tony end up sending each other various schematics.

[dollesquee]

⋮ ⌗ ┆ JUST LET US ME ADORE YOU PT. 1

various genshin characters (Arlecchino, Ningguang and Thoma x gn!reader

A/N: So I've listened to 'Just Let Us Adore You' from Steven Universe on loop and immediately thought of writing smth like this. Needless to say, it took me 30 minutes to think of ideas nd I'm v grateful for everyone's support. Btw English isn't my first language so I extend my most profound apologies for any errors present in this work.

dividers belong to: @cursed-carmine

Summary : Love- a sensation-no a creed that millions would lay their lives for. This is simply a collection of snippets which highlight how different people would express their boundless affections for you.

CW: N/A

Arlecchino

Believe it or not, Arlecchino's actually quite inexperienced in the art of romance. While this could be attributed to the fact that she spent most of her life trying to survive amongst the evils perpetuated by the former knave, she simply didn't have the time-nor energy to foster a healthy relationship. Inside the cold, obdurate walls of the orphanage, love was but a fleeting luxury and she witnessed firsthand how such fickle emotions led to one tragedy after another, thus explaining why she never got into any relationships till now.

Yet, she'd still try her best to show up if you gave her the opportunity to. While she isn't the type to whisper words laced with honey into your ear nor will she be the type to spontaneously burst into an opera highlighting every single muse you're the embodiment of, a soft smile from her says more than than a mere sentence ever would.

Arlecchino's is very fond of styling your hair. Oftentimes, she'd find an excuse to touch your hair or rake her blackened fingers across a mass of strands, hands often lingering on your neck for a few more seconds before drawing away with great reluctance.

Expect countless drawings from the children of you two in various situations that reflect an idyllic life that many covet. Do note that they've gotten all their ideas from Arle's various musing's when she's zoned out-which used to be rare but has all but increased in it's frequency with your arrival.

All of her moves were executed with calculated tenderness. Yet, the fondness she holds for you is genuine and the imperceptible yet tangible flicker of tenderness that dances across her eyes when you rest against her shoulder reveals the depths she'd go for the sake of your happiness

Ningguang

Calling Ningguang a doting partner is a sore understatement. With the abundance of resources she possesses and the amount of influence she has on the entirety of Liyue, there's no doubt that she'd spoil you to Celestia and back.

Should you desire an item or an experience of sorts that could be acquired through monetary gains? It's yours now. The finest, most verdant tea leaves harvested directly from Chenyu Vale's best farms? Here. A pendant crafted from the rarest jewels in Teyvat? Expect it to be delivered at 11:30 am sharp.

Better yet, you could make a slight remark about wanting to attend a performance opened by the Hydro Archon herself. Ningguang already booked a carriage to Fontaine equipped with top-tier guards and the best of services there is to offer.

Mora isn't an issue for Ningguang as she's currently the richest, most affluent person in Teyvat. However, it is admittedly unusual for some of her subordinates to see her spoiling someone to this extent since their boss is usually quite frugal with savings unless if it's for a project or plan related to the Jade Chamber, the palace being her second source of Joy (Her first being you ofc).

In Addition to spoiling you with material possessions, Ningguang is also fond of styling you in various different garments and accessories. Your days in the Jade Chamber often consist of twirling in front of the mirror as endearments and praises flit across the room like silken petals, gloved hands adjusting the seams of your embroidered corset that costs more than your monthly salary at your old job.

Thoma

#1 househusband material. Rest assured that you'll be Teyvat's equivalent of a passenger princess. All your needs would be met with the efficiency expected from Inazuma most renowned fixer.

He's a gentleman. Always waiting at your hand and foot to walk you around the bustling streets of Inazuma, a hand wrapped around your waist while the aroma of freshly baked Taiyaki and chicken skewers waft across the cool air.

If you want a dish made. He'll definitely make it for you provided that he has the time-and ingredients. In the situation where he has neither, he'll probably bribe Ayato with boba to run an errand or two and travel off to Ritou to "negotiate" with some merchants-aka flatter them until he gets those ingredients for free. Once he gets them, a freshly prepared dish of whatever you desire would appear magically on your desk along with an embroidered napkin with both of your initials.

Speaking of embroidered napkins. He'd absolutely love to sew, crochet or participate in any sort of craft with you. At the end of every session, you'll be carrying a large knitted plushie of Taroumaru as Thoma stows the needles and yarn away for next time.

Mornings are always spent cuddling or doing each other's hair. Older couples see themselves in you both while the youth squeal and gush. Occasionally, the residential poltergeists would make a few kissy sounds behind your back in an attempt to embarrass you or make you the subject of mockery for the day but it always backfires on them.

.ᐟ up next : Just Let Us Me Adore You Pt. 2 (Wanderer, Kaveh and Al-haitham x gn! reader)

World Burn ( Arlecchino x ex fatui! fem reader)

Fingertip ( The fruits shall be unraveled in due time...)

@ Do not steal, repost or translate this work without @dollesquee's express permission xoxo. All rights for the characters are reserved to Hoyoverse

[svt-meiying]

┈୨♡୧┈ CHILDHOOD ┈୨♡୧┈

𓆩♡𓆪 Meiying was left at the doorstep of an orphanage in Haicheng under the year's first snow, with no belongings aside from a jacket much too large for her small frame and a dog tag around her neck, containing the five years old girl's name.

𓆩♡𓆪 The child retained no memories from before this very moment and despite making small sounds in attempts to be understood, she did not speak. The most heartbreaking detail about her however was the fresh scar carved across a nearly white eye, blood dripping onto the snow when a caretaker found her.

𓆩♡𓆪 Prospective parents always became hesitant when learning about the way that many auditory cues failed to be picked up by the little girl despite not being entirely deaf along with the uncertainty of whether she would ever speak.

𓆩♡𓆪 With the hearing disability becoming increasingly concerning caretakers took her to an audiologist who then diagnosed her with unilateral hearing loss, revealing that it was impressive that she managed to live normally despite her right side losing 60%.

𓆩♡𓆪 The orphanage unfortunately did not have enough money to spend on a hearing aid so they decided to instead use hand gestures, teaching her sign language.

𓆩♡𓆪 Meiying adapted very quickly despite the many uncertainties surrounding many aspects of her life, showing great academic promise and even demonstrated strong independence to the point where the caretakers would send her out to buy bread.

𓆩♡𓆪 There were instances where the young girl would wake up crying, uttering pleas for an unknown figure to stay, and those were the only times words would be spoken.

𓆩♡𓆪 Meiying was very active in athletic school activities so since adoption seemed less likely with every passing day, the orphanage enrolled her in a studio that taught numerous styles of dance - focusing on traditional Chinese dance and ballet.

𓆩♡𓆪 It was at age nine that the child spoke, the melody in the faint voice shocking the caretakers as a boy introducing himself as Minghao lead her back to the safety of the establishment with their hands intertwined.

𓆩♡𓆪 Meiying had gotten lost in the market's unusually large crowd whilst running habitual errands and the older child stumbled upon her crying form huddled in an alleyway. It was intense overstimulation laced with distress that made her voice reappear for the first time in four years as she cried in his comforting embrace, mumbling clumsily about how she could not find her way back home.

𓆩♡𓆪 The children rapidly became very close friends, especially after discovering that they went to the same school, and although the girl did not speak much, they both found ways to communicate past the verbal boundaries.

𓆩♡𓆪 In early 2012 Meiying left to South Korea with the orphanage's approval in order to become a trainee under BigHit Entertainment, where she met her future brother.

𓆩♡𓆪 Yoongi immediately took the young girl under his care, bringing her home often to the point where even his parents began loving her as their own. At the insistence of their son, they eventually adopted Mei in January 2013.

𓆩♡𓆪 Unfortunately, due to the lack of monetary resources as well as the parents constantly working, Yoongi was presented with an ultimatum ; since he was the one that wished to give Meiying a family, he would be the one to take care of her.

𓆩♡𓆪 He was made legal guardian to his sister and this authority was used to pull her from the company after learning about severe mistreatment, keeping watchful eyes on her condition when she joined Pledis Entertainment.

𓆩♡𓆪 Yoongi was the one that gave her the Korean name 'Nari' due to its meaning being 'Lily', a flower representing peace and purity.

𓆩♡𓆪 Taiyang was restlessly searching for his younger sister despite years of failure and happened to stumble across a billboard in New York in 2017, which announced the upcoming 'Diamond Edge' world tour of K-Pop group Seventeen. The sole girl amongst 13 men drew his attention and he was quick to recognize the scar adorning her strikingly colored blind eye.

𓆩♡𓆪 It was during the fan meeting preceding said concert that he faced her once again, tears brimming his eyes as this curious girl looked up at him with the brightest gaze he had ever seen. Meiying could see him, feel the familiarity of his hands as she reached out to touch him, but Taiyang saw no recognition in her face.

𓆩♡𓆪 Realizing that the memories lost to trauma induced amnesia had not yet returned he reached out to her adoptive brother with proof that the two were indeed biological siblings, asking for his help in truly reconnecting with the only family tie that remained.

𓆩♡𓆪 Yoongi arranged for the three of them to meet so that she could still anchor herself to someone familiar, and although Taiyang did not explain the situation to Meiying, she surprisingly took to him very quickly.

𓆩♡𓆪 It took several months for the maknae to recover certain memory fragments and when everything clicked into place the siblings became practically inseparable, with the older man making the decision to move from America to South Korea.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

[howlingday]

Love Language

Gift Giving

Blake: Oh, wow, I... I wasn't expecting this. Thank you for the gift, Yang.

Yang: Hey, no problem, Blake! You said you needed something to help write down your thoughts, and I figured a notebook was just the thing you needed~.

Blake: Well, it's still very thoughtful. I guess Ruby wasn't kidding that you put a lot of effort into giving gifts.

Yang: Well, I did kinda have a rough time with gifts growing up. Don't get me wrong; Mom, Dad, and Uncle Qrow always got me presents on my birthday and when I got a good grade, but... Something about the gifts felt so... hollow. It was like they were just buying because they thought I would like it instead of listening to me and asking me what I wanted.

Blake: Well then, Yang, what do you want more than anything for your birthday~?

Yang: (Blushing) W-Well...

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

Acts of Service

Weiss: Coffee?

Jaune: Sounds great.

Weiss: How do you take it?

Jaune: Uh, two creams, no sugar?

Weiss: Would you like vanilla or caramel?

Jaune: Caramel- Weiss, what is going on?

Weiss: I'm just making sure your coffee is made just as you like it.

Jaune: Well, I can make my own coffee, too. You don't have to go above and beyond like this.

Weiss: And you don't have to make your own coffee, either.

Jaune: ...

Weiss: (Sighs) I'm sorry. I got carried away.

Jaune: You... wanna talk about it?

Weiss: What's there to talk about? When I was growing up, I had to do everything myself.

Jaune: Didn't you have butlers and maids, though?

Weiss: Yes, and do you know how many of them actually cared about me?

Jaune: ...Klein?

Weiss: Klein, and only Klein. He was the only butler who stayed with my family for my entire life. Everyone else just saw my family as a job. And don't get me started on my parents...

Jaune: I won't. (Places hand on hers) Unless you want to~.

Weiss: (Smiles)

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

Physical Touch

Nora: (Hugging Ren)

Ren: (Smiling) Another hug?

Nora: Yup! If I don't give enough hugs, you don't get enough love~! And if you don't get enough love, you can't give enough love! And if you don't give enough love, you get left behind and get sent to an orphanage and have to survive every day without hugs and-

Ren: Nora, I don't think that's how hugs work...

Nora: (Pouts)

Ren: ...but I won't turn down a hug.

Nora: (Smiles)

Ren: (Presses nose) Boop~.

Nora: (Giggles)

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

Quality Time

Jaune: Do you have a second?

Pyrrha: For you, Jaune, I always have time.

Jaune: Great! I'm trying to fill out this quiz to figure out what Pumpkin Pete character I am, and I kinda need your input.

Pyrrha: (Giggles)

Jaune: What?

Pyrrha: I just thought it was obvious that you're Pumpkin Pete.

Jaune: Wait, really? But he's just the main character.

Pyrrha: Well, I think he's more than just the main character. He's kind, resourceful, a little short-tempered, and always tried his best to be a hero.

Jaune: Huh... I guess so...

Pyrrha: Do you still want to do the quiz?

Jaune: ...Actually, I want you to take the quiz.

Pyrrha: ...Me?

Jaune: Yeah, I think it would be fun to see who you turn out to be!

Pyrrha: I don't know, I-

Jaune: Question 1: Are you a good guy or a bad guy?

Pyrrha: W- Well, I do try to be a good person.

Jaune: Huh? But you are a good person.

Pyrrha: Not as good as you might think. When I was younger, I used to bully other kids on the playground. I even had a bit of a mean streak in my tournaments.

Jaune: So you were aggressive? That doesn't mean you're bad. If anything, I think that helped you with your competitive spirit!

Pyrrha: Still...

Jaune: I'll put "Good, but with a trouble past".

Pyrrha: Is that really an option?

Jaune: Oh, yeah, this thing goes in depth. Question 2: What's your favorite flavor of candy?

Pyrrha: Mm... Cinnamon.

Jaune: Really? I always thought they were too spicy.

Pyrrha: Well, I kind of like the spiciness. In fact, before each match, I'd have a little bit of Dragon-Bites before each match. I thought it helped me keep my energy up during each round.

Jaune: Wow. I'm surprised your sponsors didn't try to sell cinnamon cereal.

Pyrrha: Oh, they tried... It just... didn't taste very good.

Jaune: (Chuckles) Well, that's a bit of a downer.

Pyrrha: I'm sorry...

Jaune: Don't be. I'm having fun learning about you.

Pyrrha: (Smiles) Well, I'm glad you're taking such an interest in me. I can't remember the last time anyone asked me questions like this. My interviews were always about my training regimen or my upcoming fights. It could get exhausting talking about something that wasn't about myself. (Sighs) But I guess that makes me selfish, huh?

Jaune: No way! I mean, yeah, you're thinking about yourself, but that's only because nobody else was thinking about you! And if that makes you a bad person, then I'm probably the worst person who ever lived!

Pyrrha: Oh, I wouldn't say that. You're the nicest person I know.

Jaune: Ooh~! Careful, Pyrrha~! I might be a villain in disguise~!

Pyrrha: Well, if you're a villain, I would happily be your right hand woman.

Jaune: ...

Pyrrha: ...Khm! (Blushes) Um, what was Question 3?

Jaune: (Blushing) Oh, uh, y-yeah, Question 3...

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

Words of Affirmation

Jaune: ...

Ruby: ...Jaune?

Jaune: Hm? What?

Ruby: I said, are you okay?

Jaune: Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just... thinking.

Ruby: Thinking about what?

Jaune: About... everything.

Ruby: (Giggles) Anything specific in everything?

Jaune: Well... Nah, nevermind. It's nothing.

Ruby: You just said it was everything, and now you're saying it's nothing. I'm starting to think this is actually something. So what is it?

Jaune: ...I was thinking about where I am right now.

Ruby: In Vacuo?

Jaune: As a leader.

Ruby: Well, you're definitely a good leader.

Jaune: Am I, though? Back at Beacon, I was a kid in way over his head because I wanted to prove that I wasn't quitter like my parents thought I was. Then I show up, meet new friends, and start putting myself out there. And then we got attacked and Pyrrha died... And then we started running off to Haven, and we learned what the real world was really like. All the while I kept making the same decision again and again to put my life in danger, and for what?

Ruby: ...You wanted to be a hero.

Jaune: Some hero I turned out to be. Pyrrha died because of me, Weiss almost died because of me, Penny-

Ruby: None of that was your fault, Jaune. It's just... how messed up the world is right now. And if you want to blame anyone, you should blame Cinder since she was there for all of it.

Jaune: But I was the one who-

Ruby: Jaune, look at me. (Grabs head) I know what you're going through right now, and it's not good. In the Ever After, I was going through the exact same thing, and I ended up making a stupid decision because of it. It's only because I got lucky that I was able to come back from it... and because I had some amazing friends waiting for me to come back. Friends like you.

Jaune: ...

Ruby: You are my best friend, and I can't imagine a world where you weren't at Beacon with me. Where you traveled to Haven with me. Where you escaped Atlas with me. The world is looking to us to be the heroes it needs, and there's nobody else I'd have at my side than my fellow leader, Jaune Arc.

Jaune: Ruby...

Ruby: ... (Blushes, Unhands) I mean, uh, y'know, I'm also really glad to have Weiss, my sister, Blake, and Oscar, and your team and-

Jaune: (Hugs her) Thank you, Ruby. You're the best friend I could ever ask for...

Ruby: (Blinks, Smiles, Hugs back)

Jaune: ...Snrk!

Ruby: What?

Jaune: Nothing. I just remembered calling you "Crater Face"~.

Ruby: Oh, you would do that, wouldn't you, "Vomit Boy"?!

Jaune/Ruby: (Laugh together)

[dewdropdinosaur]

A Truth Universally Denied - CH. 1

LUCIFER X F. READER Masterlist

When a struggling, reclusive, but wealthy single father calls upon the help of a governess to help tutor his coming-of-age but unruly daughter, one has no choice but to accept the most gracious invitation of employment. Especially if your new employer is the King of Hell. (aka if Hell, but if it was set similar to Victorian Era England, so like circa 1830 to 1900 A.D.)

Muddy beaten roads lead off into the distance as the sun sets over the hill, a crescendo of light fading into the aria of night. Y/N’s eyes pass over the landscape, the hooves trotting over cobblestone jostle the image, though do not make it any less beautiful. A bounce here and there adds to the liveliness of her otherwise disastrous journey, traveling from Wrath to Pride. A long time to travel, nearly a month or so. A boat here, a carriage there, another boat for some unknown reason. She had half a mind to give her new employer a strong reprimand for making her travel so far, but, having covered all the travel expenses himself, she could not find any resolve to do so. 

The arduous journey was nearing its end, less than a quarter of an hour till Y/N was to arrive at her new destination. Her home circle of Wrath was a sorry state compared to the extravagance of Pride; golden-lined buildings and large homes lined the street on every corner. Opulent gates and streets, despite the mud, were far beyond what was the norm in her home realm. She knew her new employer was wealthy, though he elected not to mention his exact status, but the farther she was carried into the realm, the more luxurious and secluded the domain became. 

Contextually, it made sense, employed as the new governess, most likely for some wealthy Overlord. Whatever demon child she was to rear and oversee must be spoiled rotten, Y/N concluded. With all this opulence, how could one not be a touch of a brat? Though she decided not to hold this against the child, who probably knew little else. If only she had had this as a child, what good she would have done with the provisions and resources. Though Y/N did concede her nature might have been different under a different upbringing, she determined her base character would have remained the same. Steadfast, intelligent, needing very little; all considerable traits of a lady, she deemed that she possessed. She had been told so, though mostly it came snide. 

Y/N could admit to it; she was plain. Not a woman of extraordinary beauty or wit, she made it up with her loyalty and calmness of character. Reliability and a touch of humor were all one needed to survive in the world that was Hell. It turned out in the end, becoming a sought-after governess and previously even a full-time professor at the local orphanage where she had been raised. A job that was inherently given to her due to past experience, though Y/N believed her hard work had outweighed the personal bias in her hire. 

The carriage came to a halt in front of a large and gold-embellished estate on the very outskirts of Pride, and even Hell itself. The footman kindly opened the door, taking Y/N’s hand as she stepped out onto the nicely cobbled sidewalk. A bit damp from the acid rain a night ago, but nothing her shoes couldn’t handle. Offering a small smile to the footman, she picked up her suitcase and a reticule* before walking up the stairs. Two large lions with serpents around their ankles guarded the sides of the steps, a new and well-upkept marble that glistened with each passing glance. By far, this was the most beautiful and extravagant estate Y/N had ever seen. As she approached the large oaken doors, Y/N rapt softly once or twice to the tune of Shave and a Haircut, or possibly Beethoven’s At a Darktown Cakewalk. They were both so similar, and she doubted anyone in Hell knew the true origin, even the great composer himself, who had a moderately sized mansion in the downtown of Pride. 

A sharp suit and bowtie towered over her as a red demon answered the door with an eerie smile. Deer-like ears flicking in mild annoyance as his neck craned down to view the simpleton that dared disturb his afternoon tea break. They were important private moments after all. The demon’s monocle shone in the dim light of the torches that hung from marble columns, illuminating the otherwise dark and dismal night. It was nearing close to seven in the evening. 

“Oh, hello, sir. My name is Y/N L/N. I was invited to this residence by mail from a Mr.Hartfelt. For the governess position.”

At her words, the deer demon’s smile widened to a degree Y/N did not think possible. Sharp yellow teeth led the way to shimmering eyes full of curiosity. The demon extended his hand, grabbing hers with a firm grasp that she dared not let go of for fear of upsetting what could be her new employer. 

“Oh, Miss L/N. A pleasure to meet you, quite the pleasure. I must say, you are much taller in person than what your previous employer described, but no matter. My name is Alastor Hartfelt, I am the Head of the Household Staff here at the Manor and the one who sent you that letter on behalf of the Master of the House.”

Y/N finally was able to let go of Mister Hartfelts’ hand, a slight sting in her palm from his firm shake. There was no doubt that the Head of Staff seemed to be a jovial man, though appearances were not always what they seemed in Hell. His smile was too wide, his grip too strong, his eyes too full of something she couldn’t quite place. It all made Y/N uneasy, on top of the fact that she was sure she had heard his name before. It would not aid her unease to ask the deer demon, so she let the thought subside for the time being. Picking up her belongings, Alastor led her into the main chamber of the Manor. 

Dimly lit, similar to the outward appearance of the estate, white and golden marble lined every surface. Hints of red roses and banners sprinkled in, though overwise everything looked well-maintained but little used. Y/N had heard her employer was a recluse, keeping to himself on any matter that need not concern his immediate and direct presence. A sorry way to be, she thought, though understandable. From what she gathered, it was a single father and a coming-of-age daughter, the mother most likely dead. Divorce wasn’t unheard of, though unlikely and uncommon in higher society. Noticing the black curtain over a large family portrait, the gleaming eyes of a woman staring back at her, Y/N deduced the wife must indeed have long passed. Queer** for a demon to die a second time, a painful process no doubt, but still queer.

“This is the foyer. We rarely receive guests, but if we did, to your right is the reception room. To your front is our dining room. You must receive your breakfast and dinner there with the Master of the house and the young lady. Around which are our kitchen, two pantries, a store room, a washroom, and a small dressing room for our staff. Not off limits to you, of course, though not your place. To your left in the first room is our library at your full disposal for the education of our young lady, and the drawing room is just above it. Outside of the drawing room, through the door, is the veranda and terrace. Beautiful this time of year, you know. Oh, and yes. The principal staircase is behind the reception room, which leads to the private quarters. The Master’s bedroom, the young lady’s, and of course yours. Each with their own washroom. Along with a balcony and private office for the Master. That is strictly off limits to another but myself, the young lady, and the Master; do you understand?”

With a shy confirmation, Y/N’s eyes darted from room to room as Alastor rapidly read off the list of rooms and places she could wander. It was certainly large; the reception room by itself was as large as four master bedrooms put together. All in a similar style to the construction of the manor, the furniture collected a thin layer of dust. Furthering Y/N’s assumptions of the lack of use. No matter. These rooms would be put to continue the studies of the much-mentioned ‘young lady’ of the house. 

“Yes, I understand, thank you.”

“Wonderful. Now, please, follow me. I think it is time for you to meet—“

As soon as Alastor spoke, a jovial and girlish squeal emitted from some unknown source at the top of the main staircase to their right. Lifting her gaze upward, Y/N was met with the sight of a young girl, no older than twelve, in a beautiful but simple red wool dress with a tailored skirt that swept just below her ankles. The petticoat underneath provided ample bounce as the young girl nearly slid down the oak railing of the staircase, in a near sprint straight towards Y/N. Though shocked at the display, Y/N met the girl with a gentle smile and an outstretched hand. 

“Who do I have the pleasure of acquainting, young lady?”

“My name is Charlie, miss. What might your name be?”

Charlie shook Y/N’s hand vigorously, a grip no less strong than the previous handshake with Alastor but certainly more lively. With a shy and stifled chuckle, Y/N regained her composure and extracted her hand from Charlie’s grasp. Taking a good look, Y/N stood in awe of her features. Beautiful blonde hair, stunning black eyes, and rosy circles painted her otherwise pale skin. A picture-perfect demon. No wonder her employer wanted Charlie to have a governess; she would grow into a fine lady indeed. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Moringstar. I am sure Mr. Hartfelt has informed you—“

“Ah, my dear Charlie. Ms. L/N is to be your new governess. So let’s treat her with the respect she deserves.”

A touch miffed that Alastor cut her off, Y/N kept a gentle smile on her face despite the intrusion. Respect, her ass. This man clearly did not know the meaning of the word when it came to women. No matter. Charlie was her main mission here; Alastor could simply be an afterthought. Charlie’s eager grin suddenly faltered, the edges of her once wide grin dropping into a bitter scowl. Her eyes hardened, and without warning, the young girl’s finger pointed directly at Y/N.

“I don’t need a governess,” she announced flatly, chin lifted with practiced defiance, before turning the finger to Alastor, “and I hate for you to codle me.”

And with that, she stormed off, boots tapping sharply against the marble as she ascended the grand staircase two steps at a time. A door slammed moments later, muffled by distance but reverberating all the same.  Blinking slowly, completely baffled by the outburst, Y/N’s mouth lay agape. She had expected maybe the child she was to tutor to be spoiled, but at the very least. Quite docile. This, however, was quite different. Anger was unbecoming, though Y/N was no stranger to its appropriate use in terms of discipline. But unruly children were hard to teach, much less even tolerate. Another spoiled brat in the making, she thought, before tilting her head slowly towards Alastor with a raised brow. Only to find the Head of Staff with that overtly pleasant smile plastered on his face. It hadn't shifted even a fraction.

“My apologies,” he said, folding his long fingers behind his back. “Our young lady can be… passionate. You are her third governess, after all. The first lasted a week. The second, two days. They both cited her temperament as, shall we say, unaccommodating.”

“Unruly, I think you mean.” Y/N corrected softly, mostly to herself.

Alastor nodded once, his eyes flashing with a held-back anger at her correction. Two could play at the game he had started when he interrupted her earlier, she was merely moving a piece back on the board. 

“Indeed. But her unruliness stems from loneliness, not cruelty. The Master of the House is frequently engaged elsewhere. A great many responsibilities rest upon his shoulders. Affairs of state. Public appearances. And, of course, the long shadow of grief.”

There it was. No clarification. No mention of death of the woman in the portrait, only an implied absence so heavily felt it clung to the tapestries and curtains like the dust she noted previously. Y/N sighed, though not unkindly. She adjusted her grip on her suitcase. “I see. Well then, I suppose I’ve my work cut out for me.”

Alastor gestured toward the stairs, bony fingers outstretched in a way that didn’t quite sit right. “Your quarters await. Second floor, first door on the left. Do settle in. Dinner is at eight sharp.”

Y/N’s room was a palace unto itself. The door creaked open into a wash of pale gold and muted ivory. Helllight still clung to the window panes, filtered through gauzy drapes that softened the harshness of Pride’s eternal glow. The walls were lined with creamy marble veined in delicate rose quartz, catching the light like blush against porcelain. Carved oak wainscoting****, dark and polished to a mirror sheen, framed the lower half of the room, and a massive four-poster bed canopied in burgundy and trimmed in gilded thread stood proudly against the far wall like a throne. A medium-sized vanity sat beneath a beveled mirror, its surface adorned with tiny golden apples. A plush chair with what seemed to also be a rosy color was tucked neatly beneath it. Across from it, a writing desk made of blackened walnut waited expectantly, its drawers empty. A modest armoire loomed in the corner, flanked by a standing coat rack carved into the shape of a weeping willow.

She had never seen anything so stunning in her entire life or undead life. Y/N set her suitcase on the bed, unlocking the latches with a deft flick before opening the contents of it to the world. It looked pitiful inside there compared to the opulence of her room. She opened it quietly, revealing only a handful of neatly folded and muted colored dresses, a few underthings, and a stack of well-worn books tied together with a strip of muslin*** ribbon. She had always traveled light, both by necessity and as a result of her lower status, but standing in such opulence, the emptiness of her possessions struck her like a note in a hollow room. Still, she unpacked with the diligence of habit, placing her books on the desk one by one as though they might take root there.

Y/N paused at the edge of the bed, her hand lingering on the spine of the last book she had unpacked. Her fingers traced the familiar groove worn into the leather from years of use, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere, up the grand staircase and behind the slammed door. Charlie had been all angel one moment and demon the next, a jarring shift that echoed in Y/N’s mind like a bell struck out of rhythm. What had seemed like the perfect picture of a well-mannered young lady had shattered instantly under the weight of... what, exactly? Pride? Pain? A desperate need to be seen? Whatever the cause, it rang bitter, and louder than the polite introductions and practiced smiles could ever hope to mask.

Charlie would certainly be a challenge; that much was clear. But Y/N did not shrink from challenges. She hadn’t when she’d taught a room full of orphaned demon children who preferred knives to books, nor when she'd mediated screaming matches between demons twice her size. Yet this felt different. More delicate, somehow. The child’s anger wasn’t just petulance, it was armor. And armor meant someone had taught her, through action or absence, that she needed to protect herself. Y/N knew that sentiment well. Shutting out the cruel expanse of the world in order to find some semblance of self. A dreadful existence, though one that was usually born of necessity. 

Still, the thought of trying to reach her, of slipping past that sharp tongue and harder stare, left Y/N feeling small. Smaller than she’d felt in years. She was a governess, not a miracle worker. And for all her stubbornness and wit and calm, she couldn't help but wonder if she was simply one more doomed name in a long line of governesses Charlie would discard like tissue paper in the rain. The thought scraped something raw and quietly bruised in her chest. She would not be discarded. Not this time.

Then there was the matter of the Master himself. Still unseen and unknown, a man who hid from the world he was supposed to be guiding his daughter in. Y/N hadn’t so much as heard his voice. Was he kind? Cruel? Indifferent? His absence left a hollow she couldn’t quite account for, an unfinished shape in the house’s strange equation. She had received a personal letter, very few instructions, and not even the formality of a welcome. Everything had come through that ever-smiling, ever-watching creature Alastor. What kind of father hid behind a closed door while his daughter withered in plain sight? What kind of man hired a governess without so much as an interview? Y/N stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror, watching the flicker of torchlight dance along her tired eyes. Maybe he was grieving. Maybe he was overwhelmed. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. 

She pushed that thought away with a firm inhale. That would serve no one, least of all Charlie. Still, as the estate groaned gently under the settling weight of evening, Y/N could not help the feeling that she had stepped into something deeper than educational discipline. Things were festering behind those red-velvet curtains. Things that perhaps no lesson plan could solve. She would need more than patience and textbooks. She would need insight, caution, and most of all, time. 

The clock tolled six-thirty in the evening, and Y/N grabbed a simple blue gown, with a cream petticoat to accompany. It was high time she should become acquainted with the Master of the House. 

An hour later, she found herself outside a different door, this one small, white, and adorned with tiny hand-painted apples and golden vines. She knocked once, gently. No answer. “Miss Charlie?” she called softly. “May I come in?”

Silence. Then a faint shuffling. Permission enough. Charlie sat on the floor beside her bed, her chin tucked into her knees, arms wrapped tightly around them. She did not look up.

“I brought something,” Y/N said, kneeling to her level. With a flick of her fingers, a small shimmer of light bloomed between them. Not all demons could produce magic in great quantities, but even small gestures were feasible with the right amount of training. In her palm, a single daisy appeared, its petals a soft pink. Nothing extravagant. But the simplicity made it special. Charlie peeked upward, eyes widening just slightly.

“That’s real,” she said.

Y/N nodded. “Yes, it is quite real.”

The girl stared for a long moment before inching forward, reaching out to pluck the daisy from Y/N’s hand. A soft, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her mouth.

“You can teach me that?” she asked.

“I can teach you many things,” Y/N replied. “But yes. That too.”

Charlie scooted beside her on the rug. “The others just yelled a lot.”

“I prefer not to yell,” Y/N said. “Too exhausting.”

Charlie gave a quiet laugh. “I think I like you.”

That was, Y/N thought, the highest praise she’d received in quite some time.

At precisely eight o’clock, Y/N followed Charlie to the dining room. It was a cavernous chamber, its ceilings arched like a cathedral’s and adorned with stained-glass inlays that flickered with internal fire. A long oak table stretched across the room, set with golden plates and goblets carved from onyx. Two chairs sat at either end, and a third halfway down, clearly prepared for her. And at the head of the table, sitting with one leg crossed elegantly over the other, was a figure unlike any she had imagined. The Master of the House. Y/N stopped mid-step.

He was smaller than she had expected. Slight of build, and pale as alabaster. His short golden hair was neatly styled, his cheeks unnaturally flushed like painted porcelain, similar to his daughter. Yellow eyes with slitted pupils stared at her over steepled fingers, his expression unreadable and vaguely amused. A top hat rested behind him, coiled with a snake that blinked lazily in her direction. The apple on the brim gleamed red in the candlelight, matching the one atop his polished scepter.

He looked like something out of a children’s fantasy book. A ringmaster in a carnival of fire and ruin.

Charlie ran up and gave the mysterious man a chaste embrace to the side, before settling down in her proper spot at his right. With a snap of his fingers, the third chair that was once halfway down and its place setting moved almost immediately to the man’s left. 

“Miss L/N,” he said, voice smooth as syrup and just as thick. “How delightful to finally make your acquaintance.”

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it. And then offered a deep curtsy. “The pleasure is mine.”

The man smiled, gesturing with a hand for her to take her place at the table. 

“My name is Lucifer Moringstar, the Master of this House.” FOOTNOTES --------------------------------------------------------------

*Reticule = small Victorian-style draw-string purse

**Queer = in this context, it means strange and is not regarding the wonderful LGBT community. 

***Muslin = lightweight and plain cotton cloth or ribbon

****Wainscoting = wooden paneling that lines the lower part of the walls of a room.

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Yk before I read Dead Apple I assumed it would be super complicated and hard to follow but idk if the movie is just different than the light novel/Manga adaptation but it's literally not lol. Then I realized oh people just look and see only SKK (like always) when it has

Insane Atsushi lore both about his time in the orphanage and his Ability

Genuinely great development for Akutagawa and Kyouka as well as another sided look at their dynamic than the largely negative one we get in main series

Atsushi Akutagawa and Kyouka as a TRIO

Kenji and Yosano holding their own entirely hand to hand against some of the strongest Abilities in the series

FANTASTIC and also slightly insane Kunikida moments (which show both his resourcefulness and resilience also "we are the ARMED detective agency")

Akutagawa fighting without Rashoumon!!

Atsushi being forced to reconsider a lot of his black and white world view of people

Fyodor lore which lends itself to the theory he himself is the manifestation of an Ability

Multiple arguments against "Dazai doesn't care about anyone lol" mainly the ADA

Evidence against "Naomi is the manifestation of Junichiro's Ability"

The fact that it's known for even very powerful Ability users to die to Shibusawa's fog but NONE of the Agency or known PM members did