#and a Mob Family in my head in this verse

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Bleed my aching heart

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 3 Prompts: Backseat & Bruise Words: 1,359 Rated: E Tags: Mafia AU; Mob boss Dick Harrington; Hitman Eddie Munson; Car sex; Rough sex; Possessive sex; Humiliation; Dirty talk; Knifeplay; Mild painplay; Top Eddie; Bratty bottom Steve

Notes: "Kiss that ring" verse, Steve POV? You bet! Can't give me those prompts and expect me to not think of these two unhinged little fuckers. This continues right where "Heaven's in the backseat" leaves off.

When Steve was twelve, his father took him on a trip to Sicily. He said Steve was old enough to learn about the family business he was supposed to inherit. And so Steve spent a dreadfully boring two weeks being paraded around in expensive suits, locked away in stuffy meeting rooms, listening to negotiations he didn’t understand, while the sun sparkled on the sea outside.

On the second-to-last day, he used an unsupervised minute to sneak away. The water always held a weird fascination for him, even then. He wanted to feel it on his skin at least once while he was here. 

On his way back, his feet slipped on the cliffs and he plummeted nine feet. They found him stumbling around by the shoreline hours later, disoriented and heavily concussed. His father took one look at him and slapped him hard across his bleeding face. 

“What part of stay at the house didn't you understand? Do you have a death wish or are you honestly too dumb to listen?” 

Steve thought about that question a lot over the past six years.

He's not ashamed to admit that he isn't smart - a lot less smart than Richard Harrington expected his son and heir to be. Still, he doesn't think it's the reason why he keeps going against his father's orders at every opportunity.

The pain felt good. He suspected even then that he must be a little fucked in the head, but that didn't change the fact that, nauseated and bleeding and dizzy, he felt more alive than he had in weeks. 

Maybe that's why he is the way he is. Why he keeps chasing the risk, the danger, the pain. 

Maybe that's why, when he noticed Eddie Munson lurking in the flower bushes by his father's pool, he didn't shy away but beckoned him closer. Maybe that's why the hungry look in those dark eyes makes him shiver in pleasure rather than fear. Why he can't stop provoking the man, why the thought of making that mask of indifference crack fills him with a perverse sense of anticipation. 

Maybe that's why, when Eddie hits the brakes and pulls the car over to the side of the road, Steve is fully hard before he even finds himself pinned into the backseat. Why, when Eddie pulls out his knife and trails the tip of the blade over his skin and talks about claiming him, about stuffing him full of his cock, about cutting his initials into his flesh, he can't help the needy little whimper that falls from his lips. 

“Do it then,” he breathes, hips bucking to chase the tantalizing weight of Eddie’s leg between his thighs, wrists straining in Eddie’s grip. “Make me yours.” 

For a second, Eddie actually pauses, eyes going round with surprise. Then, his pupils blow fuzzy and large. His lips peel back, and Steve catches a glimpse of sharp canines glinting in the blue light of the dashboard. And then all he knows is that he's being kissed with a force that is unlike anything he's ever experienced before, a force that punches the breath right out of him and makes the needy little thing low in his abdomen thrum and quiver. 

He struggles, clenching his jaw shut and trying to jerk out of Eddie’s hold, because what can he say? It's fun, playing hard to get, seeing just how much of a rise he can get out of him. Eddie growls against his lips and presses his thumb into the bruised flesh of his lip, just where his father hit him earlier. Steve gasps in pain and surprise, and Eddie uses the opportunity to lick right past his teeth and into the warmth of his mouth. His hand never lets go of the knife, and when Steve tries to twist out of the kiss, the blade tickles his cheek like a dangerous promise. He goes very still, Eddie’s teeth grazing his lip as he grins and deepens the kiss. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Eddie allows them to part for air. His head is dizzy and all of his sensations have narrowed down to the tingly needlepoint feeling in his limbs, the delicious pain where Eddie’s fingers are still pressing down on the bruise. 

“Make you mine?” Eddie repeats, and his voice is a husky whisper. His eyes look black in the dark car, like two bottomless pits, ready to swallow him whole. His lips gleam with their mingled spit. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for, little nymph. I don’t think you know what that means.” “Show me then,” Steve hisses. It’s only when his nails dig into Eddie’s shoulders, drawing a sharp intake of breath from those sinfully plump lips, that he realizes Eddie no longer has his wrists pinned. Instead, his hand has traveled down, undoing both of their belts and flies with quick, deft fingers. 

Steve’s cock springs free, hitting Eddie’s thigh with an obscene little slap. Eddie coos, almost tenderly, but there is nothing tender to his touch as he takes him in hand. His fingers are long and warm and calloused, the edges of his rings deliciously sharp against Steve’s sensitive tip. Eddie squeezes, tight, and the zap of pain sizzles all the way up his spine, like tiny, bright sparks in the dark. He moans, low and wrecked, and Eddie laughs against his pulse. 

“Why, sweetheart, are you enjoying this? If I had known what a fucked-up little slut you are, I would've done this sooner.” 

“Don't call me-” Steve starts to say. Eddie pinches him, just where his aching balls connect to his cock, and the words trail off into a hoarse wheeze. 

“Don't call you what?” Eddie asks. “Sweetheart? Or my little slut? Well, I've got news for you, baby.” 

He slips the knife back into the holster under his suit jacket in one swift motion, then shoves three fingers into Steve’s mouth, so hard and fast he nearly chokes on them. 

“I'm gonna call you whatever I want,” Eddie purrs, one hand fucking into his mouth, the other pumping his throbbing cock. “I'm gonna call you whatever the fuck I want, and you're gonna be glad for it. Everything I give you, you're gonna take, and when I'm done, you're gonna thank me for it. Do you know why that is?” 

He slides his fingers out, patting Steve's cheek encouragingly. They leave a thin, cool sheen of spit, just next to the bruise. 

“Because I'm yours,” Steve rasps. 

“That's right honey.” Eddie’s smile is sharp and pretty and hurts in all the best ways. “Go ahead now, give me what's mine.” 

Steve's climax hits him with a violence that forces the air from his lungs in a startled scream. Eddie licks the sound from his lips like it's the sweetest nectar while Steve spills all over his hand and his own stomach, staining both of their expensive suits. It feels like being consumed whole. It feels like being pulled apart at the seams, like being shattered into a million tiny pieces. 

Eddie keeps kissing him until his lips feel puffy and swollen, keeps stroking him until his spent cock is sensitive and raw, until all that falls from his lips are high-pitched whines and a nonsensical string of Eddie, Eddie, please, so good, thank you, Eddie. 

“Aw, baby,” Eddie murmurs, sharp teeth nipping at the edge of his jaw. “Don't thank me just yet. You don't think I'm done with you already, do you?”

If coming undone under Eddie’s hands was like shattering apart, the feeling of Eddie opening him up on come-slicked fingers feels like being put together again. The burn of Eddie replacing those fingers with his cock, fucking him hard and fast into the backseat, feels like a rebirth. 

The pain when he comes for a second time, dry and untouched, and with Eddie’s name on his lips, feels like the beginning of a new life. 

He's made into a new kind of person that night in the car, one that belongs to Eddie Munson, heart, body and soul. He never once looks back. 

More Smutty September

[wheels-of-despair]

Home Alone Together Pairing: Ralph Penbury x You Summary: When Ralph's family left to spend Christmas in Paris, they forgot one thing: Ralph! Good thing you're there to take care of him! Words: 12k

Note: As you probably suspected from the title and ripped off tagline, this is inspired by Home Alone. It is a one-shot, and not connected to my Worth It-verse. The reader is an adventurous young lady who happens to be the caretaker's daughter. Don't think too deeply on it. Just have a fun Christmas adventure alone in a big house with a pretty boy and a pair of uninvited guests who deserve what's coming to them.

The Penburys are spending Christmas in Paris.

Once upon a time, the entire family would gather at their country estate for the holidays. Penbury Manor was always beautifully decorated, with red and green and gold and ribbons and bows and countless Christmas trees all throughout the house.

Ralph Penbury quite enjoyed that as a child.

But as Ralph and his twin sister Victoria grew, Penbury Christmases changed. Their father passed away, and their mother began spending most of her time traveling and dallying with much younger men. Their cousins had grown up to have homes and families of their own, and no longer came to visit for the holidays.

You'd think that with the family branching out like that, Penbury Christmases would become smaller and smaller. It was quite the opposite, really. After leaving school, Victoria found that she couldn't function without her ten best girlfriends at her side, and a houseful of strangers to keep them all entertained.

Life was one big never-ending party for Victoria Penbury, but her twin brother Ralph often found himself feeling lonely. There were always loads of people around, sure, but could any of them be truly considered a friend? Did any of them know anything about him, other than the fact that he was a Penbury and would surely foot the bill?

Two weeks ago, Mother sent a telegram inviting the twins to Paris for Christmas, to meet her new beau. Victoria had squealed with joy and rushed out to shop for new dresses. Ralph was hesitant at first, but eventually warmed to the idea. Surely Mother wouldn't allow Victoria to bring her mob of hangers-on. Perhaps they'd have a nice family holiday for a change. Meaningful conversation! People who mattered! And at the very least, delicious buttery croissants!

And then Victoria decided that since she couldn't bring her entire entourage to Paris, she'd take them to Penbury Manor for a few days. Ralph had always liked the country manor where he spent his summers and Christmases as a child, so he piled into a car and joined the caravan headed for the sprawling estate.

On the first day, he had fun.

On the second, Ralph began to wish he'd stayed in London.

On the third, he locked himself in the library.

On the fourth, Victoria berated him for being a horrid host and demanded that he join everyone for the gift exchange. He put aside his book and reluctantly agreed to join them for dinner and a party in the great hall.

Ralph, as always, felt as though Victoria's friends were merely tolerating his presence. What was wrong with him? Did he frown too much? Was he too intense? Was it obvious that he'd rather be elsewhere?

He hadn't always been this way.

Sometimes Ralph grew sad, remembering the happy person he used to be. He used to love parties and fashion and making friends. And then he fell in love with someone who despised him. The words "get fucked, creepy stalker freak" still echoed through his mind when he thought of her.

Ralph Penbury had loved her with his whole heart, and his whole heart had been shattered when she rejected him. He even tried to join the French Foreign Legion as a distraction, but they didn't want him either. He hid in a hotel until the girl whose name he could not speak and her friends vacated his family's London home. And then he returned to it, a changed man. A broken man. A man who would never love again.

But a man who must still do what his sister demanded, or he would never hear the end of it.

He made an effort to look engaged throughout dinner, and joined the party afterwards. He watched Victoria's guests unwrap gorgeous gifts from a sickeningly expensive shopping spree; trinkets and jewelry and cigars and chocolates and liquors. Ralph almost forgot to be cynical for a moment, while he watched people's faces light up during the opening of the presents.

When the fun began to wind down, someone brought Ralph a rather large box. He was confused. He and Victoria had already exchanged gifts; monogrammed pyjamas of the finest silk that they planned to wear tonight, for their final night at Penbury Manor. They had more presents for each other reserved their real Christmas morning in Paris in a few days. What was this?

"Open it, Ralph!" someone exclaimed.

He looked to Victoria.

"Go on!" she encouraged him.

He untied the bow and removed the lid from the box. He stared downward, unsure of what he was looking at.

"Show us, Ralph!" called out a voice from the crowd.

Ralph reached into the box and pinched what he assumed was the edge of the contraption - some sort of harness, maybe? - and lifted it into the air.

Everyone laughed. Ralph didn't understand. He looked up with a furrowed brow, hoping someone would explain. The crowd's laughter intensified, and once again, he looked to his twin.

"It's an electric belt!" she cackled. "It can stimulate you in ways a woman can't!"

"Or won't!" someone chimed in.

Ralph's head whipped toward the crowd, wondering who said that. What would he do if he found them? He felt his eyes fill with angry tears, and he hated his stupid body for cursing him with this ridiculous reaction.

"Oh, Ralph, don't be so bloody sensitive," Victoria scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "It's all in good fun!"

Ralph dropped the electric belt back into the box, trying not to let his tears fall. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Aren't you going to demonstrate for us?" someone called from the crowd.

"Drop your trousers and show us how it fits!"

"It's the closest thing to a woman's touch you'll ever feel!"

"Treat it right and perhaps it'll love you back!"

The laughter got louder after each comment.

Ralph threw the box and the awful gift to the floor and rushed from the room with tears streaming down his red face. He ran until he couldn't hear the laughter anymore.

Was this the only reason Victoria wanted him to join the party? So she could humiliate him in front of all her friends?

He wished all of these horrible people would just disappear. He never wanted to see their stupid, sneering faces ever again.

Ralph is cold.

He pulls his blanket up to cover his frozen nose, and suddenly his feet feel a chill. He cracks an eye open and glares at the plush duvet that's not doing its job…

But it's not the duvet that belongs on his bed.

Because he's not in his bed.

He's on a sofa in the reading room next to the library, and this blanket is not providing the kind of warmth he needs right now. Why is it so bloody cold? Why has no one stoked the fire? It's completely died down!

Ralph sits up and wraps the blanket around himself, trying to soak up all the heat it can offer through yesterday's clothes.

Wait. Why isn't he in pyjamas? Why isn't he in his bedroom?

Memories of the night before come flooding back, and Ralph's heart sinks. Not only did he receive the most humiliating gift ever given, but he cried about it in front of everyone. How is he supposed to face those people now? He covers his burning face with his frozen hands.

At least one part of his body is warm.

Eventually, Ralph accepts that he can't hide forever. Is it too late for breakfast? He glances at the clock and winces. His grandmother would have his hide for sleeping this late. He'll probably have to fight for scraps at the lunch table at this hour.

Ralph slips his shoes on his frozen feet and trudges down the stairs, blanket still around his shoulders, trying to convince himself that last night wasn't that bad. Perhaps he could laugh it off and pretend he'd purposely given them a show. Or maybe something more exciting had happened since, and no one would even remember the electric belt or the crying boy that no one would ever love.

He braces himself and reaches for the double doors leading to the dining hall, taking a deep breath and pulling them open.

The room is empty.

Not one straggler. Not one plate. Not one crumb.

Even the Christmas decorations are gone.

It's like no one has been here at all.

Ralph hurries through the main floor, checking every room for a sign of life. He finds nothing.

Has his wish come true? Has everyone disappeared?

He walks back up the stairs, determined to check everything. The bedrooms, the bathrooms, the study, the library, the drawing rooms, the billiards room, the attic. What sort of prank is Victoria playing on him?

Ralph decides to start on the far end of the hall. Last night, there was a Christmas tree in front of this window. Now, there's not even a stray pine needle. What the devil has happened to his house?

He peeks into every room, finding no evidence that anyone had been in them at all. All the bedrooms look as pristine as they had when the group arrived. The trees are gone. The hanging mistletoe and the holly bouquets. The candles in the windows.

Baffled, Ralph starts the journey up the attic stairs. Victoria knows that he's feared this place since he was a child, so perhaps this is where she told everyone to hide. Would she be surprised that he came looking for her up here?

Last night, Ralph had hoped to never see any of his guests again… but right now, climbing those steep steps to the dark, drafty attic his cousins used to lock him in, he almost wishes he had someone there with him.

Could Ralph Penbury truly be alone for the first time in his life? At his own request, even? The thought sends a terrible chill up his spine, making him squeeze his eyes shut and pause to grasp the handrail out of fear of falling down those awful stairs.

When the chill passes, Ralph wills his legs to take him to the next step.

Where he collides with something that shrieks.

He's falling, falling.

And someone - or something - is falling with him, down those steep attic stairs.

You feel as though you hit every step on the way down those damned stairs. When you finally come to a stop on the landing, you notice the groaning body next to you. You rise to your knees quickly, wincing at what will surely be a bruise, and check on the person.

Your heart stops when you realize who it is.

Ralph Penbury, the young master of this house.

Your employer.

Well, your father's employer.

You've just thrown your dad's boss down the stairs.

"Mr. Penbury, are you alright?" you ask, fearing the worst.

He opens his big brown eyes and stares, and your stomach flips.

"Who are you?" he asks.

You struggle to remember your name. When you tell it to him, he doesn't react. "The caretaker's daughter," you clarify.

Your father has been the caretaker of Penbury Manor since before you were born. He manages the grounds and the house when the family is not present, which is most of the year. He'd gotten a telephone call a week ago telling him to call in the staff and decorate the manor for Christmas. You walked to the main house this morning, wanting to see it one last time before the staff ripped down all the decorations and headed home for Christmas.

You and your father live in a small cottage on the edge of the property, which is your favorite place in the world. Until tomorrow, probably, when your father is given the sack and you're both tossed out into the street for mangling the man of the house.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask again.

He keeps staring. Does he have a brain injury, you wonder?

"Are you?" he asks, finally.

"A few bruises, but they'll fade," you smile. "Are you hurt? Would you like me to call for a doctor?"

Mr. Penbury shakes his head. You stand, offering him a hand to help him up. He stands without taking it, trying to brush the wrinkles out of his clothes with a rapidly reddening face.

"Where is everyone?" he asks.

"Miss Penbury and her guests left very early this morning," you tell him. "There was a storm, and they didn't want to get snowed in."

"Snow?"

"Lots of it," you confirm.

"When?"

"Now."

"Now?"

You gesture to the window, and he shuffles over to it. Mr. Penbury gasps when he sees everything covered in white. He stays there for a full minute, staring out at rapidly falling flakes. When he turns back around, there's a sad expression on his face.

"They left me?" he asks pitifully.

"I'm sure they didn't mean to," you say quickly. You have no idea if it's true, but the poor man looks utterly heartbroken. "There were a lot of people in your party, getting everyone packed and into cars in the snow was utter chaos."

His brow furrows.

"May I call a car for you?" you offer.

He nods and turns back to the window. You pretend not to hear him sniffle.

You enter the study a few doors down, where the nearest telephone is located, and pick it up. The line is dead. You nearly run into Mr. Penbury again coming out of the room.

"Sorry!" you breathe, narrowly avoiding him. "There's something wrong with the telephone, I'll try downstairs."

Mr. Penbury follows you to the next telephone. After three with no tone, you turn to him with a grimace in the office by the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, sir. The lines must be out of order because of the storm."

What are you supposed to do with him? You can't just leave him here alone. He'd have no idea how to take care of himself. He's probably never stoked his own fire in his life. You also don't really want to walk home in the snow. It's coming down so hard, you couldn't see your hand if you held it out in front of you.

You'll just have to coexist until one - or both of you - can leave.

"The staff cleaned through the night and went home early this morning, while the roads were still passable," you explain. "I stayed behind to finish up a few things, since I live nearby and can walk home when it stops snowing. I'm afraid it's just us, but I can get you anything you need."

An awkward silence fills the room.

And then the lights go out, leaving you in the dark.

You carefully feel your way through the maze of furniture and pull the curtains apart, giving you just enough light to see him hovering by the door.

"What's your favorite room in the house?" you ask, digging through the office in search of a flashlight.

"My what?"

"Your favorite room," you say again, checking the desk drawers. "Your bedroom, a drawing room, one of the lounges?"

"Why?"

"Because that's where you can stay until the storm passes," you explain. He stares at you blankly.

"Why one room?" he asks.

Is it not obvious? You stop your search, gather your thoughts, and explain calmly.

"Mr. Penbury, it takes a full staff to keep all of the fireplaces lit. Since it's just the two of us, we'll stay in one part of the house and focus on keeping it warm there."

He blushes, his face glowing in the gray light.

"The library."

You wince. That's a horrible choice.

"Mr. Penbury, that's a large room with a lot of windows. It'll be quite drafty. Might I suggest something smaller, so it's easier to heat?"

"My bedroom?" he mutters.

"Excellent choice," you smile, resuming your rummaging.

You should've just told him that's where he should go to begin with, but dammit, you can't tell a Penbury what to do. People like this must be gently guided, so they can let themselves believe everything was their idea. You don't spend a lot of time with people like him, but you think you navigated that quite well.

"Aha!" you cry, clicking on a clunky flashlight.

You pull the curtains closed, already feeling the draft from the exposed window, and exit the room. Mr. Penbury follows closely, muttering a "sorry" once or twice when he steps on the back of your heel in the dark. You lead him through the massive estate and into his bedroom. You quickly start a fire, and when it's large enough to provide warmth, you step away and turn around.

He's still hovering by the door.

"I'll take the one next door, if that's alright?" you ask. "So that I'll be near if you need me?"

He nods.

You smile and squeeze by him, lighting another fire in the other bedroom and taking a moment to warm your hands. The staff let the fires die this morning. A chill has crept through the house since, but you haven't really felt it until now.

Tea would be nice.

Your stomach rumbles, and you place a hand on it as if to silence it. You wonder when Mr. Penbury had his last meal… probably dinner last night? You hurry downstairs and fill a basket with food, lugging it back upstairs toward the two warm bedrooms as quickly as you can.

When you reach the last step and move onto the landing, a movement ahead catches your eye. Mr. Penbury has just closed his door. He's been watching for you. You'd hoped to make lunch in your room and present him with something already cooked, but now you're drawn to his door.

"Mr. Penbury?" You knock lightly. "Are you alright? Did you need something?"

The door slowly creaks open to reveal a narrowed eye.

"You left."

"Only briefly," you smile, holding up your basket. "I've brought us lunch. Are you hungry?"

He hesitates, but nods. He steps back and opens the door the rest of the way. Oh? You follow his lead and come into his bedroom, brushing against him when you pass and feeling a blush creep into your cheeks. Stop that. You hurry toward the fire, so you can pretend that's what caused it, busying yourself with the kettle first. Your tea can steep while you cook.

Mr. Penbury sits on the sofa at the foot of his bed and watches your every move. You're annoyingly clumsy under his watchful eye, but you manage to put together a decent meal. Well, at least it's hot. You put the food on plates and hold yours, glancing to the door. Can you go?

Mr. Penbury gets up suddenly, surprising you by clearing off a small bedside table and dragging it toward the fire. He places it between the sofa and the fireplace.

"Please?" he asks, gesturing to the seat next to him.

You smile and rise, putting both plates on your tiny table. You consider sitting on the edge of the sofa and staying as far away as you can, but you don't want to seem rude. You don't want to appear too forward, either. You sit where you can reach the table but not touch him.

You look from your plates to him, and you both hesitate. You feel like something should be said. A prayer? A toast?

You lift your teacup, and he does the same. What do you say?

"To not being alone during the storm of the century?" you smile.

Mr. Penbury smiles back, teacups are sipped from, and lunch is eaten in an almost comfortable silence.

When your plates are empty, you excuse yourself to return them to the kitchen and take care of a few chores. You wind through the house, making sure drapes are closed and doors are locked. The staff goes to great lengths to keep the Penburys warm while they're here, and you worry that he'll find out how drafty this big house really is and think it's your fault.

Your constant movement does little to warm you. When it starts nearing dinnertime, you grab a few extra blankets and bring them to the pair of warm bedrooms who'll have inhabitants. You toss half on the bed you can't wait to fall into tonight, and approach his door.

A knock at the door makes Ralph's heart nearly leap out of his chest. He gets up from the sofa by the fire and drops the blanket he's had on his lap for hours, hurrying toward the door. Things have felt awkward with the caretaker's daughter so far, but Ralph is grateful to have her back. He hates being left alone with his thoughts.

He swings the door open and finds the girl standing there with an armful of blankets.

"I thought you might like a few extra blankets," she smiles. "It's only going to get colder as the evening goes on."

Thank her, his brain screams! Invite her in to warm up! Wrap her in one of those blankets! Make her tea!

"Thank you," Ralph mumbles, reaching for the blankets and promptly dropping one. She leans down to pick it up, re-folds it, and hands it to him. He hugs them to his chest.

"I'm going back to the kitchen to fetch dinner before it gets any darker," she says, her voice like warm honey. "Is there anything particular you'd like tonight? That can be cooked in a bedroom fireplace, I mean?"

He'd watched her create a hot meal out of nothing hours earlier, and been absolutely fascinated. He'd sit quietly and watch her do anything, if she let him.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Ralph shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

"Alright," she smiles. "I'll be back soon."

She turns, and Ralph's spirits sink when he realizes she's leaving him again. He's surprised to find words forming on his tongue.

"C-can I come?" he stutters, mentally kicking himself. He starts to close the door, hoping she hadn't heard, but she turns around and catches him.

"Of course, Mr. Penbury," she smiles. She has the most wonderful smile. Shut up, Ralph! He scurries out of the room and to her side, and she looks down. So does he. He's not wearing shoes. His face burns. "You'll want to dress a bit warmer, Mr. Penbury," she says gently. "It's very cold downstairs."

Ralph returns to his room and contemplates jumping out a window. But he glances back to the girl standing outside, looking kind and understanding and not rolling her eyes or laughing at him. He puts on his shoes and a jumper. He doesn't know what the maid did with his coat when he arrived.

He walks toward her, but before he can exit the room, she enters. He freezes. She shakes out one of the blankets she'd brought him and wraps it around his shoulders. Her scent fills his nostrils. Her hands almost touch him. He has to work to control his breathing. Why is he behaving like a lovesick schoolboy? Or worse… his old self?

"There we go," she smiles. "Are you ready?"

He nods, unable to speak for fear of a marriage proposal rolling off his stupid tongue.

She pulls a flashlight from her pocket, flicks it on, and starts walking. He follows her down the stairs and through the house and into the kitchen. Ralph has only been in here a few times in his life. He gets to hold the flashlight while she works. She grabs the basket from earlier, filling it with this and that. He keeps the flashlight trained on her, trying to anticipate her every move so that she's never left in the dark.

He stays close when they go back upstairs, and enjoys watching her make dinner. In silence, of course. Ralph doesn't think he could make a sound if he wanted to. She serves him excellent, strong tea that warms him inside and out. Dinner is wonderful. He'd seen her hesitate at lunchtime, about sitting next to him on the sofa, but she sits a little closer this time. His heart flutters.

Stop that.

When the plates are empty again, she stacks them and puts them in the basket. Ralph feels a sudden panic when she stands.

"You don't have to go yet!" he says, with a little more force than he meant to. He should go throw himself down the stairs.

She hesitates, then sits back down on the sofa and smiles politely.

Ralph has no idea what to say to her. He wanted her to stay, damn it all, it's his job to give her a reason to! Speak! Ask her questions! Tell her a funny story! Anything!

"Did you find something to do this afternoon?" she asks.

What did Ralph do this afternoon? He thinks… oh. He thought. He thought about his humiliating gift, about everyone laughing at him, about everyone leaving him. Was it on purpose, or did they genuinely forget about him? Which would be worse? He thought about the girl who broke his heart and opened his eyes and changed his life. He thought about the caretaker's daughter, and how kind she's been to him. And how pretty she is when she smiles. And how that stupid lovesick little boy he once was would be planning their wedding by now.

"I read a book," he lies.

"Oh?" she questions. "What did you read?"

Damn.

Ralph Penbury, who's read four books during this trip and thousands of others in his lifetime, cannot name a single title.

"Er… it… it wasn't very good." His face is definitely too red to be just from the fire. She knows he's blushing. She knows he's a liar.

"Would you like to go to the library and pick out another?"

"N-no," Ralph stutters, biting his tongue for failing to cooperate. "Not tonight."

"Alright," she says. "Why is the library your favorite room?"

"Pardon?" he asks, scrunching his eyebrows.

"I asked about your favorite room earlier, and you said the library," she reminds him. "I was just wondering."

"Not the library, exactly," he begins, "the reading room beside it."

"Oh?"

Ralph nods. The library itself is a vast room, but the cozy chamber beside it is packed with comfortable couches and plush chairs and reading lamps. Hardly anyone ever goes in there.

"I quite like that room myself," she admits. "The painting above the fireplace is one of my favorites. If I'd known that's where you meant, we could've set up camp in there."

"This is fine," Ralph says quickly. He can't imagine the torture of trying to sleep in the same room as a woman he can't have.

"I suppose you're right," she smiles. "Sleeping in a bed is surely more comfortable than even those lovely sofas."

"That's where I slept last night," Ralph confesses.

"I can't believe no one spotted you," she says, her face falling. "Were you by the fire?"

Ralph nods.

"Maybe it had gone out by the time someone came to check," she muses.

Ralph shrugs.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Penbury. Things were hectic when your sister decided to leave. It was a flurry of packing and panicking, and after everyone left, frantic cleaning so the staff could leave before the snow got too deep. But I promise, sir, I'll get you out of here and on your way to rejoin your sister as soon as I can."

What if Ralph doesn't want to get out of here? What if he wants to stay with the nicest person he's ever met, and he wants the snow to keep falling so they're trapped in here for months? Is that long enough to make her love him? Would he have a chance if he were the only man in miles? Or would she brave the elements to get away from the creepy stalker freak in under a week?

Ralph Penbury wishes he could manifest a physical version of the person he used to be, so he could beat it to death. That obnoxious, irritating, stupid little boy who used to fall in love with every girl he met is starting to narrate his every thought. He's not that person anymore!

She gets up to stoke his fire. The flames rise, and the room gets warmer, and she turns to him with a comforting smile.

"I suppose we should get to bed," she says. "If you need anything at all, Mr. Penbury, I'm right next door."

How is he supposed to sleep with only a wall separating them?

"You can call me Ralph," he says to her retreating back. She hesitates, hand already on the doorknob, and turns to him.

"Are you sure, Mr. Penbury?"

He nods.

"Alright, then," she says softly, turning the knob. "Good night, Ralph."

Ralph melts at the sound of his name on her lips.

"Wake up!" a voice hisses.

"No," you grumble, snuggling deeper into the magnificent bed you've claimed for the night. You're warm. You're comfortable. You're having a good dream. If you're left alone, you might be able to finish it.

"Miss!"

You sigh, cracking one eye open to see Mr. Penbury standing beside your bed.

"What's wrong?" you mumble, closing your eye. "Did your fire go out?"

"There's someone in the house!" he whispers.

"It's just the wind, Mr. Penbury," you explain, hoping he'll go back to bed and leave you alone to finish your dream.

"It's people," he says, his voice hushed but frantic. "I heard men talking."

Your eyes shoot open.

"Where?" you ask.

"Downstairs," he breathes.

You roll out of bed, into the frigid room whose fire has long died. It must be nearing morning now. You hold out a hand, gesturing for him to stay put, and tiptoe out into the cold hallway. You stop at the top of the stairs, listening close…

Men. Talking loudly in a downstairs room. You creep down the stairs silently, one at a time, hoping to pinpoint which room they're in. A bottle smashes, and a light illuminates the hallway below. The lounge. They're drinking. They've started a fire. They don't know anyone else is here. You come back up the stairs.

"What are you doing?" Ralph hisses, hugging himself for warmth just outside your bedroom doors.

What would those men do if they knew the master of the house they broke into was still here? Unarmed? Unattended? No security, no staff, only you. Ransom? Torture? Murder?

You have to protect him.

You walk to the nearest window and pull the curtain aside. How did those men get here? Surely not by car. The snow has stopped coming down, but it must be knee-deep out there. You can't tell the driveway from the lawn. They must have walked. You could probably make it home in this, but you don't know if Mr. Penbury could. And even if you did, you'd leave a trail directly to your father's cottage. You'd have the same problem with the stable, or one of the outbuildings. Plus, you'd probably freeze to death outside tonight. You cross the floor and approach him.

"Mr. Penbury, I need you to put on warm clothing and come with me. Carry your shoes; we'll make less noise without them."

He nods seriously and returns to his bedroom.

You enter your room, quickly making the bed and gathering the dinner basket and a few blankets and your shoes. You'd slept so hard, you let the fire die; which you now realize is a good thing. When you close the door, the bedroom looks like it hadn't been slept in.

You slip into the room next door and make Ralph's bed too, pulling off the extra blankets and giving them to him. You pick up your basket and gesture for him to follow. You lead him down the hallway and into the study, closing the door quietly behind you and locking it. You approach the second bookcase and feel along the second shelf.

Click.

The hidden door cracks open, and you pull it the rest of the way. It's pitch black inside. You feel for your flashlight, cursing yourself when you realize you left it on the bedside table. You step inside to put your things on the floor, then come back for candles. There's an antique candelabra on a side table that'll do. You light three of the five with a pack of nearby matches, thinking that'll be enough for now.

Mr. Penbury stands frozen, arms full of blankets and mouth gaping.

"It's alright," you whisper, giving his jumper a gentle tug. "Come on." He follows you inside. You latch the door and turn to him.

"We'll be safe in here," you tell him quietly, placing the candelabra on a desk. For how long, you don't know. Surviving tonight is the current priority.

"What is this place?"

"I'm not sure," you whisper, taking the blankets from him. You put them on the ancient moth-eaten sofa, all except one. That one, you wrap around his shoulders. He's shaking. "Well, it's an office, I suppose. I don't know why it needed to be a secret. Come, sit."

You both sit on the small sofa carefully, hoping it doesn't creak too much. It doesn't.

"How did you know it was here?"

You bite your lip, contemplating how much to tell him.

"I just found it one day," you answer. "The house is full of hidden rooms and secret passageways."

"I didn't know that," he says.

"You're only here for a few weeks per year," you remind him. "I've lived here all my life."

"You know my house better than I do," he says, with a hint of embarrassment.

"I could show you," you offer.

You've been obsessed with uncovering the secrets of Penbury Manor since you found that first secret door in a wardrobe when you were twelve. You've always taken great pleasure in knowing more about this house than its owners. Why the hell did you just offer to share your life's work with him?

"Really?" he asks, his eyes sparkling in the flickering light of the candles. You can't stop staring into those black orbs.

"Really," you confirm, feeling oddly calm.

Something crashes from below, and you both jump in surprise. Right. Intruders.

"We'll stay here for tonight," you whisper. "Hopefully, they're just vagrants who will move on after they've raided your liquor cabinet. Let's hope they don't find the key to the wine cellar."

Your attempt a joke does not land.

"If they don't clear out tomorrow, maybe the phone lines will be fixed, and we can call the police."

He rubs his hands across his face.

"Mr. Penbury," you begin.

"Ralph," he reminds you, dropping his hands to his knees.

"Ralph," you repeat, reaching out to place your hand on his. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"This is my house," he argues. "I'm the man. I should be protecting you."

This man is the most adorable thing you've ever seen.

"And I know this house inside and out," you remind him. "Perhaps we can protect each other?"

He considers it.

"Alright," he finally agrees.

"We should rest," you say quietly. There's nothing else to do. "Maybe they'll be gone when we wake up. You take the sofa, I'll take the floor."

"Nonsense," he argues, getting up and moving to the hard wooden floor. You let him lie there for a moment, seeing the regret on his face even in the dim light of the candles.

"Alright," you play along, draping him with one blanket and lying down on the sofa with the rest. When his teeth start to chatter, moments later, you've had enough of your game.

"Given that the situation is possibly life or death and I doubt the usual rules apply, would you mind sharing the floor?" you ask. "The sofa stinks, and the blankets will go farther if we combine them."

"Y-yes," he shivers.

"Rise, Sir Ralph of London," you joke. He does.

You lay half of the blankets down and pull the pillows off of the sofa, dropping them where your heads will go.

"Lie down," you instruct.

He does, and when he's settled on his side, you cover him with the other two blankets. You blow out all but one candle, since it's not providing much warmth anyway, and crawl into the makeshift bed beside him.

He's still shivering. So are you.

"Would you think me unladylike if I came closer?" you ask.

"P-please do," he shudders.

You scoot just a little closer, not quite touching, but very aware of the warm body next to you.

"We're going to be alright, Ralph," you whisper. "Rest."

He falls asleep before you.

Ralph Penbury has never woken up with a girl holding him before.

The candle has burned out, so he can't see her.

But he can feel her.

They're still on their sides, but their bodies are pressed together under the blankets. She's slung an arm across Ralphs ribs. Her cheek rests on his chest, her hand on his back. Would she be angry if he did the same? He eases his arm over her, careful not to touch anything inappropriate, and tests his weight on her side a little bit at a time. She doesn't wake and yell at him or tell him to stop touching her. He can't help but smile.

He should be frightened. Terrified, even. There are intruders inside his house. He doesn't know who they are, or how many there are, or their intentions, or when they plan to vacate the premises.

But how can he worry when there's a beautiful woman holding him?

After Ralph's last misadventure in romance, it had been become abundantly clear to him that no woman would ever love a creepy stalker freak. He'd given up. When he stopped begging for attention, he stopped getting it. Were it not for Victoria needing him to sign an occasional cheque or provide a laugh for her friends, he might be forgotten altogether. Hell, she did forget him. She left him behind on the way to their Christmas vacation with their mother.

The girl with her arms around him nuzzles her face into his chest, and he stops caring about Victoria.

She's taking care of him. She fed him multiple times. Brought him blankets and built him a fire. When there was danger, she brought him to safety. She's keeping him warm right now. She did all these things without being asked. This is not her job. She's not employed by the Penburys, is she? Only her father, Ralph thinks. Perhaps she's taking care of him because she thinks she has to. Or because she's a good person. Or because he's useless and pathetic and she feels sorry for him.

Or maybe… just maybe…

Ralph is cold the next time he wakes. He reaches out for her in the dark, wondering if she'd turned in her sleep, but his hand hits a cold blanket.

She left him.

Even in his half-awake state, Ralph's heart sinks.

He finds her pillow and brings it to his nose, breathing in deep. He can still smell her. He pulls the covers over his head and hugs the pillow to his chest, wishing it were her instead of the faint scent of her mixed with the ancient dusty fabric.

A nearby click makes Ralph's heart pound. He stays under the blankets, frozen in fear, trying to hold his breath so he won't be discovered. Footsteps. A scrape. A sigh.

A soft chuckle?

Ralph pulls the blankets off of his face to see that she has returned, and that the room is no longer a black void. She has a flashlight now, and she's smiling down at him.

"Good afternoon," she whispers.

Ralph sits up in the chilly room, pulling a blanket around himself.

She starts unpacking a sack and her pockets, placing tinned food in a neat row. Ralph watches curiously; how did she carry all that? Where did she get it? Did she really go out there with them?!

When she finishes unloading, she joins Ralph on the makeshift bed, sitting across from him and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She's wearing socks; no shoes.

"I have a plan," she whispers.

You wish you could ignore the curiosity eating at you and focus on the warm body holding you tight. But you can't stand not knowing what you're up against. What Ralph is up against. You have to go look. You ease out of his grip and venture out of the hidden room behind the bookcase.

It must be daytime; you're able to see where you're going with the help of dull grey light peeking in from around the curtains. You slip into the secret staircase behind the tapestry and pad quietly down the stairs. Two men, surprisingly well-dressed, are passed out and snoring on the sofas in the lounge. They appear to be traveling light. Perhaps they're not planning on staying long.

You tiptoe to the nearest telephone, hoping for better luck today. On your way, you feel a horrible chill just before finding the broken glass. They'd broken a window to get in. You shiver and check the phone in the hallway, which is still dead. At least there's a flashlight in the table underneath. You pocket it and proceed to a ransacked kitchen. The men had raided it and had themselves a feast. Even after they'd eaten all they could hold, there was still a considerable amount of food. What if they stayed until it was all gone?

You fill an empty flour sack with things that can be eaten without cooking. Is that enough? You add a few tins to your pockets. You and Ralph Penbury may die by these criminals' hands, or freeze to death while trying to escape, but you'll be damned if you let him starve.

You make it back to the hidden stairs without incident, climbing them quietly and re-entering the room behind the bookcase.

You turn on the flashlight so you don't step on him, and find that Ralph has curled up in a ball on the floor and pulled the blankets over his head. You let out an unintentional chuckle at how adorable he is. You hope he hasn't missed you yet. You'd like to crawl right back into bed and not have him notice you left at all.

He pulls the covers off of his head and looks up at you. You've been caught.

"Good afternoon," you whisper.

Ralph sits up, eyes still puffy with sleep, and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. You quickly and quietly unload your pockets, feeling a chill now that the adrenaline of sneaking around is wearing off. You sit across from him on your makeshift bed, covering yourself as well.

"I have a plan."

"Where did you go?" he whispers.

"Downstairs," you answer. "There are only two of them, and the way I see it, we have two options. Would you like to hear them?"

Ralph nods.

"Option One, we leave. We can wait until dark and slip out of here and try to make it to my father's cottage. It'll be cold, and it'll be hard, but we'll be safe there. And it's closer to the road, so it will probably be easier to send for the police." You give Ralph a moment to contemplate before continuing. "Option two, we stay in here for another day or two, and maybe they'll leave after they've filled their bellies. And even if they don't, if I'm not home by Christmas Eve, my father will know something is wrong and come to investigate."

What kind of choice is this? Freeze to death outside, or hide out in this secret room with a girl who makes him feel like his old self? A desperate, puppy-like persona that constantly begged to be loved? Perhaps freezing to death is the more humane choice.

"How about we eat breakfast before we decide?" she prods gently. Ralph nods.

They share a cold breakfast with a single fork. "I swear, I thought I grabbed two," she apologizes. Ralph swoons, and he hates himself for it.

"Have you reached a decision, Mr. Penbury?" she asks, after breakfast is finished.

To freeze to death, or huddle for warmth on the floor with a woman who isn't openly repulsed by him?

"It's too cold out there," he mumbles.

She smiles, and Ralph feels his stomach do a somersault. He wishes someone would punch him there.

And then she gets up and walks toward the entrance, and Ralph panics.

"Where are you going?" he asks. Please don't leave me, he thinks.

"To get us more blankets," she says, like it's obvious.

"It's not safe out there!" he warns in a hushed tone.

"They're asleep," she says gently. "I'm just going to grab a few more from the wardrobe at the end of the hall. I won't be gone long. I promise."

In Penbury Manor, the end of the hall is a long way away.

"I'm coming with you," he insists, rising to his feet.

She looks stunned for a moment, then reaches for the door.

"We must be swift and silent," she whispers. He nods in agreement.

She puts her ear to the door before opening it. And then she cracks it open and peeks outside. When she decides it's clear, she reaches back for Ralph's hand. He takes it and tries not to pass out.

She pulls Ralph out of the secret room behind the bookcase, and they cross the floor and and unlock the study door and enter the hallway in their socks. She's right; they're virtually silent without shoes. They arrive at the wardrobe quickly, and after a heart-stopping creak of its door, she begins piling blankets in Ralph's outstretched arms.

She takes an armload herself and eases the door shut, then leads the way back to the study. When they get near, Ralph hears voices. She stops, panic on her pretty face. He can see her making quick calculations, and she begins to rush toward the study door. Ralph follows as quickly as he can, ducking into the room just in time.

She drops her blankets on the floor and gets the door closed just before the voices get near enough to understand. She winces as the lock clicks, listening closely at the keyhole to see if they heard it.

"You hear somethin'?"

"Only an egghead who won't shut his mouth."

Ralph carefully places his blankets next to hers and joins her at the door, putting his ear to it to better hear the intruders.

"Would you look at the size of this place?"

"Like a royal palace."

"Are those Penny people royal?"

"Nah, just rich."

"And stupid."

Both men laugh. Ralph fumes.

"When do you think they're gonna come back?"

"The floozy said it's a summer house. I bet they don't spend a week a year here."

"You really lucked out with that party invitation, eh?"

"Damn right I did. How long do you think it'll take us to strip the place?"

"Years?"

"Years!"

"I see twenty gold things right here in the hallway! We'd be rich with just what we took from the room we came in!"

"As soon as this snow clears, we'll get Jasper to bring the truck, and we'll all be set for life."

"All thanks to those idiot twins flaunting their fortune!"

The men cackle.

"I'm not sleepin' on a couch tonight, look at the size of them bleedin' beds!"

"These must be the master bedrooms, they had me in some cupboard on the other side of the house. Cheap bastards."

Ralph's face burns. This was a guest. A person Victoria invited to spend Christmas with them. Now he's in their house, planning to rob them blind.

"This one's mine!"

"This was my idea, I get the biggest bed!"

"You don't know that this one's the biggest!"

"Neither do you, now get out and find your own!"

Her hand touches Ralph's shoulder, and he jumps. She puts a finger to her lips, telling him to shush, and gestures to the room behind the bookshelf. They pick up their blankets and tiptoe into the secret room again, latching the door and sighing in relief.

She turns on the flashlight so he can see her face and steps close. Very close. Ralph looks into her eyes, which are full of rage.

"Option Three," she whispers angrily. "We make them leave."

You've always had Penbury Manor to yourself.

You'd explore the house while your father made his weekly inspections or stopped to fix things. When you were twelve, you found a secret door in a wobbly wardrobe. It was the most wonderful discovery an adventurous girl could make, and you immediately became obsessed with finding more. The next was a hidden staircase. You shared your findings with your father, who encouraged you to record everything. Random testing soon turned to careful mapping. And so while he worked near the main house, you were allowed to explore. And explore you did.

You found the hidden room behind the bookcase when you were sixteen. It became your office; the place you stored your maps and diagrams, where no one would ever find them.

The secrets of Penbury Manor have been yours since you were a child. Shouldn't it feel odd to be sharing them with someone now?

You light the candles and spread your maps across the floor to show Ralph Penbury, the man who would one day own this house, its many secrets. How many centuries had Penburys owned this amazing property without knowing the half of its most wonderful features?

The ignorance stops with Ralph.

You show him how to get around the house undetected, explaining how to find and open and close hidden doors. He listens intently, like he's genuinely trying his best to absorb a decade of discoveries in just a few hours.

Because tonight, when those criminals rest in warm and comfortable beds that they were not invited to sleep in, you and Ralph will attack.

You will not tolerate these bastards' disrespect of this house, or its contents, or its owners. Penbury Manor is a work of art, filled with architectural wonders and centuries-old treasures and the memories of generations. Ralph Penbury, who will one day be its master, will have an appreciation of his family home that few of his ancestors have had.

Because this house is going to protect him tonight.

He's surprisingly resourceful for a rich boy who's never had to lift a finger. You go over each section of the house, starting with the wing containing the rooms the intruders are occupying, and come up with a brutal battle plan. You are going to war with these men.

They'll never know what hit them.

Ralph Penbury is in the presence of a genius.

Imagine, exploring and creating maps in your spare time instead of silly things like gossip or shopping. She's nothing like anyone he's ever met. He is fully aware that he is hanging on her every word, but her every word is bloody brilliant. Ralph feels like he's going to war, but he's not frightened, because she's on his side.

He feels alive when they're together.

They spent a long afternoon whispering and planning and taking a break to enjoy a delightful dinner out of a tin with their shared fork. Ralph has never been on such a grand adventure in his life.

"Are you ready for this?" she whispers.

"Yes," he answers.

She leans over the desk and blows out the candles with her perfect mouth. Ralph wishes he could kiss her.

"We're going to be alright," she says, touching his arm softly. "Just stick to the plan."

Ralph nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he'll ask her to marry him. What adventures they could have together, with her brilliant mind and his unwavering devotion! Never a dull moment, from the wedding to the day they're both laid to rest beside each other in the Penbury family plot! This could be an epic love, the kind of love people write stories about, the kind of love he's always wanted!

Shut up, Ralph.

She pushes open the door, and they step outside their hiding place to set their diabolical plan in motion.

Ralph may have needed a tiny bit of instruction on the practical side of things, but all in all, he's quite an excellent partner.

The traps are laid. Now you just need to give your uninvited guests a little nudge toward the door.

You stand in the hallway, staring at the two doors to the bedrooms the criminals have claimed. You can see the fireplaces burning in the cracks under the doors. One of them is snoring loudly.

You turn to Ralph, barely a silhouette in the shadows concealing you.

"Count to a hundred," you remind him. He nods and tiptoes toward the hidden stairs that lead to the attic.

You make your way down the hall to enter the room next to the snorer. You push the curtains open. The moon is bright, giving you plenty of light to do what you need to do.

You open the wardrobe. You feel around the back of it, finding the crack and prying it open. The wardrobes of these bedrooms are connected through a hole in the wall. If you're small enough, you can slip from one room to another. But you don't need to get through. You just need to leave a gift. The next layer of wood gets pushed open. And just like that, your hand is inside the wardrobe next door.

You reach into your pocket and extract a music box, winding it quietly. You hold the crank still until you get it in place in the bottom of the wardrobe next door. You let go, and music starts playing. You back out and pull the doors shut quickly, then seal the wardrobe.

On a girl's vanity table, a music box is a sweet and joyful tune.

But echoing in an otherwise empty wardrobe, in the middle of the night, in a house you've broken into? Terrifying, hopefully.

The snoring stops.

You rush from the room and into the hallway, ducking into a dark alcove on the far end of the hall where you can't be seen. The light of the moon seeps in through the windows above the grand staircase, illuminating the hallway outside the bedrooms housing the invaders just enough for you to watch.

But you don't hear movement. Shouldn't he be tearing apart the room by now, trying to find what's making the noise? The door opens, and a man slips into the room next door. You hear yelling, but can't make out the words. The other man, apparently angry about being woken up, throws his partner from the room. He hesitates, but goes back into his own.

And then more noises come from the floor above.

Ralph has done his job of making the ancient rocking horse rock, the tops spin, the balls bounce, and turning on the electric toy train. What good fortune, to have your guests choose rooms just underneath the attic playroom!

Both men run into the hallway, looking all around them for answers. The sound really carries in this big empty house. You enjoy watching their confusion, but wish they'd just get going already.

They start to argue again when the shock of the noise begins to wear off, but a great rumbling sound soon drowns them out.

Marbles. Ralph has dumped a box containing hundreds of marbles down the stairs, and they make an absolutely fantastic racket. They bounce off each step and the walls and each other on their way down those steep attic steps, and it sounds like a train is roaring through the house.

A hand touches your back, and you turn to see an out-of-breath Ralph. He'd slipped down a hidden staircase after releasing the marbles, arriving just in time for the show.

The criminals run for the grand staircase.

Unfortunately for them, you and Ralph have used thread to install a tripwire at the top of it.

The trespassers go airborne when they trip, one of them actually going tail over teakettle in mid-air, then bounce down the stairs, thudding and grunting the whole way.

You and Ralph approach the stairs when it goes quiet, seeing that one of the men has landed on top of his partner in a heap at the bottom. Neither of them move for a moment.

Are they dead? It hadn't been your intention, but that would really simplify things.

They part with a groan. You reach for Ralph's sleeve and tug him backward, into the shadows.

There's grumbling from below, and grunting, and a pained gasp. You get brave and step closer to peek, seeing them both slowly limp toward the front door. The one in better shape goes back to the lounge they stayed in on their first day to fetch their bags full of stolen goods. Can't leave empty-handed, of course.

The pair hobbles out of the doors and toward the front steps.

Which you and Ralph doused with water, which has now turned to ice.

That was his idea.

You hear a scream, and scurry to a window.

"Excellent plan, Mr. Penbury," you admire, watching the two thieves try to separate their tangle of arms and legs at the bottom of the stairs.

"Couldn't have done it without you, darling," he says proudly.

You turn to him in the light of the moon and smile. He really is quite handsome. He meets your eye, but you turn back to the window before you get carried away. The thieves are struggling for each step in that deep snow. You watch them become smaller and smaller.

"Do you think they'll freeze to death?" he asks.

"At least they won't go hungry," you smirk. Ralph snickers.

You'd swapped their sacks full of stolen treasures with tinned food.

"What do we do now?" Ralph wonders.

"Hm…" you hum. "A toast to a job well done?"

"I've got just the thing," Ralph smiles. "If you'll come with me?"

You grab a flashlight and follow him down to the wine cellar, where he selects a bottle. You know nothing of wine, except for the dandelion wine that your father makes once a year. You don't care for it.

Ralph pours two glasses when you return to the kitchen, and you raise them into the air.

"To us?" Ralph asks.

"And a job well done," you smile.

This stuff's not so bad.

Ralph was feeling warm and fuzzy and far too relaxed by the time the second bottle of wine was opened. They'd moved from the kitchen to the reading room, and were happily lazing on the plush couch closest to the fire. It was daylight outside, but their sleep schedules were somewhat off-kilter. He didn't mind.

"What would you be doing right now if you were in Paris?" she asks.

"Wishing I'd stayed in London," he grins, taking a drink.

"And if you'd stayed in London?"

"Wishing I'd gone to Paris."

They make eye contact over their glasses and dissolve into a fit of giggles.

"There's just no making you happy, is there?" she teases.

Ralph stops laughing.

"I am happy," he realizes. "I can't remember the last time I was this happy."

"That's the wine talking," she says, taking another sip.

"No," he argues, feeling shockingly sober. "It's not the wine."

"No electricity, no telephone, a home invasion," she smiles. "What's not to love?"

Love. The word, coming from her perfect mouth, knocks the breath from his lungs.

"Have you ever been in love?" he breathes.

"Have you?" she asks without answering.

"I used to fall in love five times a day," he whispers, feeling hollow inside.

"What happened?"

"Lauren." He hasn't spoken her name since he left her that stupid letter and tried to join the French Foreign Legion. He didn't burst into flames or tears. Her name can't hurt him anymore. "Lauren happened."

"What did she do to you?" she asks sympathetically.

"She opened my eyes."

And closed his heart.

Has it been opened again?

"I fell in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her," he finds himself saying. He's never talked about Lauren with anyone. Not even Victoria. "I would have done anything for her. I would have given her everything she wanted. I would have gone to the ends of the earth to make her love me…"

Get fucked, creepy stalker freak.

"She did not reciprocate."

Is that Ralph's pain reflecting in her eyes, or does she look that sad for him?

"In fact, she openly despised me."

"She was a fool," she whispers.

"It was my fault," Ralph shakes his head. "I was so desperate to be loved, I smothered her. I was unbearable. Any girl would have done the same." His face burns at the memory of how annoying he'd been. How he'd followed Lauren around like a puppy and driven her away by being so pathetic and desperate and disgusting. Get fucked, creepy stalker freak. "Faster, even. I was a stupid, naïve little boy. I know better now."

"Everyone wants to be loved, Ralph," she says softly.

"No one wants to be loved like that," he argues.

"Is that a fact?"

Ralph looks up.

She smiles slyly and empties her glass, leaning forward to put it on the table with a clink. Ralph does the same, although he's not sure why.

He wants desperately to lean in and kiss her, but he doesn't dare.

Or does he?

"You know what we should do?" she asks.

Kiss until they run out of breath? Keep warm with a loving embrace? Grab another bottle of wine and disappear into the bedroom for the rest of the week?

"What's that?" Ralph asks, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers.

"Decorate."

"Pardon?"

"We should re-decorate," she smiles. "There's still a Penbury at Penbury Manor for Christmas, and all the decorations have been put away. It's a disgrace."

Ralph laughs. And then he realizes that he's never decorated for Christmas before. He'd just wake up one morning and find that his home had been transformed into a winter wonderland. The idea of doing it himself, especially with her help, is exciting.

"Let's do it," he grins.

They leave their warm fire behind to climb the grand staircase and the steep steps to the storage room in the attic and rifle through the boxes that the staff had packed up just a few days before.

"These are beautiful," she notes, stopping to admire a bauble with a Victorian scene painted on it. The real beauty is the way she handles everything so carefully. Unremarkable decorations he's walked past a hundred times seem so precious in her hands.

"We'll need a tree," he says.

She puts the ornament down and smiles at him.

"The trees that were taken out are in a pile behind the shed. Perhaps we can brave the snow and rescue one."

"Or cut our own," he says dreamily.

She chuckles.

"You, Ralph Penbury, are going to venture into the forest and chop down your own Christmas tree?" she asks with amusement.

"Why not?" he challenges. "Do you think I can't?"

"I said nothing of the sort," she smiles, standing. "Let's take these downstairs and bundle up. We've got a tree to acquire, Mr. Penbury."

Ralph picks up a box and follows her downstairs with a grin.

They deposit their decorations and find coats. When they're properly bundled, they head out the back door and to the shed for an axe. There's a mountain beside it; the discarded trees, under a heavy blanket of snow.

"Are you sure you don't want to take one of these instead?" she asks. "The ones in the middle are probably dry. All we have to do is get one out and take it inside. We'll be back in front of the fire in no time."

Ralph looks from the pile of trees to the forest in the distance. It's a long way. It's a lot of snow. It would take up a lot of time that he'd rather spend sitting in front of the fire with her. As if to steer him in the right direction, the wind picks up and makes his face sting.

"Alright, fine, you win," he sighs.

She laughs and kisses his cheek.

Suddenly, the wind doesn't bother him so much anymore.

You're so glad you talked Ralph into rescuing one of the old Christmas trees instead of walking all the way through that deep snow to the forest and cutting another one down.

You struggled to liberate a dry one from the middle of the pile, but it was a nice one. Barely damaged in the extraction. You carried it back to the main house together, laughing all the way, and decided to put it in the reading room beside the library.

Ralph seemed clueless when it came to decorating, but once you got the tree on a stand, he picked it up quickly. You hung the ornaments, popped corn and taught him how to string it with a needle, and decorated the mantelpiece.

When the boxes were empty and the room was festive, you collapsed on the big comfortable couch together with two cups of hot tea. You sat quietly and sipped for a while, enjoying the company and the decorations.

Dinner was made over an open fire and eaten in front of it. Another bottle of wine was opened. There were tidings of comfort and joy. This would likely go down in history as the best Christmas you'd ever experienced.

The lack of sleep (or the amount of wine you've consumed today) is starting to catch up with you, but you're not ready to turn in yet. You're not ready for this wonderful day to end.

And then you get a brilliant idea.

"Should we get comfortable down here, or go upstairs to bed?" you ask.

"Bed, I suppose," Ralph yawns.

You tidy your mess and head upstairs. He begins to drag his feet when you reach the second floor, like he isn't really ready to turn in. You enter his bedroom and light his fire, taking your time and making sure it's just right before turning to him.

"What if they come back?" you wonder.

"The burglars?" Ralph asks. You nod.

"What if the snow is too deep or it's too cold and they double back and find us?"

It's a genuine concern that you probably should have considered earlier, but you were busy drinking and decorating and having fun.

"Perhaps we should stay together, so we can protect each other?" he suggests, having fallen into your trap perfectly.

"We can barricade the door," you suggest.

"We'll be safer that way," Ralph agrees.

He looks as happy as you feel.

Ralph Penbury has never been so happy in his life.

He can't believe that it was only a few days ago that his sister humiliated him in front of all their guests and left him behind.

Now, he's lying in a soft bed in front of a crackling fire with a person he can't seem to take his eyes off of.

What a magnificent turn of events.

They'd had a grand adventure. They'd protected each other, and battled villains, and downed a few bottles of wine, and decided that maybe they should stay together tonight, just in case the intruders come back. They'd lit a fire, moved a heavy dresser in front of the bedroom door, and crawled under the covers. Together.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he mumbles, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"So do I."

Ralph's heart stops.

"I've had the time of my life with you these last few days, Mr. Penbury," she smiles sadly. "I don't know what I'll do with myself when you're gone."

The thought of going back to London and leaving her behind had never crossed his mind. In fact, he hadn't thought about what might happen after this snow melts at all. Ralph hasn't worried about what Victoria might think, or his mother, or her father. Ever since he crashed into her on the attic stairs, he's been completely unbothered by anything that exists outside of this house.

"Do you want to know why I was here when you found me?" she whispers.

Ralph nods, suddenly much more awake.

"I wanted some time alone before seeing my family on Christmas," she explains. "Just a few days to myself, to prepare for the constant barrage of questions about why I'm still unmarried and childless. That's all Christmas is for me anymore. A chance for my relatives to remind me that I'm a disappointment."

Ralph reaches out and wipes a tear from her cheek, letting his hand linger on her smooth skin.

She lets him.

It pains him to see her upset. Physically pains him. He'd do anything to see her smile again.

"What do you want for Christmas?" he asks.

He waits on bated breath while she thinks. He'll buy her anything her heart desires. Take her anywhere she wants to go. Write her a cheque. Anything at all to stop those tears. The corner of her mouth twitches into the tiniest of smiles. Another tear falls. Please darling, Ralph begs on the inside, tell me how to help you.

"All I want for Christmas is a few more days with you," she whispers.

Tears suddenly sting at Ralph's eyes, too.

And then his lips meet hers.

"Ralph," you whisper.

He moans and nuzzles his face into his pillow.

"Ralph," you try again, tracing his ear with your finger.

He shudders and smiles. He's awake, he's just ignoring you. Two can play this game. You lean over and leave a trail of kisses up his jawline.

"I want to show you something," you whisper in his ear.

This gets him to crack an eye open. You grin and stand, pulling the covers off of his bare body and exposing him to the cool morning air. He shrieks and curls into a ball. He's so adorable, you could burst.

"Come on," you urge, holding out a blanket you intend to wrap him in.

Ralph pouts, whines, and then drags himself out of bed trying (and failing) to conceal his smile. You wrap the long, fluffy blanket around his shoulders. He blushes. You put an arm around him and lead him to the window. He shuffles in step with you, his blanket trailing on the floor behind him.

You pull the curtain aside.

"It's snowing again!" Ralph exclaims.

"Looks like I got my Christmas wish," you smile, leaning your head on his blanketed shoulder.

There will be no traveling in this. No cold vehicles, no condescending relatives, no overcooked pudding. It's just the two of you, spending Christmas alone together in the most amazing home ever built. You couldn't have asked for more.

"What about my Christmas wish?" Ralph asks.

You'd gotten so wrapped up in exploring each other, you'd never asked him what he wanted. You lift your head and look at him guiltily.

"What do you want for Christmas, Ralph?" you breathe, absolutely ashamed of yourself for not asking sooner.

Ralph's face splits into a grin.

"You."

Before you can react, Ralph opens his arms and pulls you to him, wrapping you both in the blanket. You laugh, letting your arms circle him to get even closer.

"Looks like you got your Christmas wish, too," you smile, looking up into those beautiful brown eyes.

"Do you think…" he begins, almost fearfully. "Do you think you could learn to love me?"

Ralph Penbury has no business making your heart flutter like this.

"I think I already do," you whisper.

Ralph's eyes fill with tears. His mouth crashes to yours.

Maybe by the New Year, you'll have mastered kissing without crying.

[the-apocrypha]

Hello!

I've had a brain worm about your cottagecore verse stuck in my head for a month now, so I'm finally sharing it.

The mob that stormed Hob's cottage in Eskham didn't come out of nowhere. Someone has been spreading rumours about a dangerous creature in the hedgewitch's cabin for some time. Someone who doesn't particularly like their older brother. Desire knew that they would have to stoke the tension in the village carefully, so that when the villagers' fear got the better of them, Dream would not be there to save Hob. They knew very well that even armed with torches and iron, a mob of peasants wouldn't stand a chance against a fae prince. That didn't matter though - Desire didn't need the mortals to hurt their brother directly; he just needed to be taught a lesson about taking human lovers. Getting banished from the realm of the fae just wasn't enough. 

What Desire didn't expect was to be on the recieving end of a similar fate as their brother - turns out that Mother Night does not approve of her children taking human consorts, even if that child might excel at cruel games and bargains. Long story short, when Desire falls in love with a travelling sorceress named Unity, they are yeeted out from their mother's court much like Dream was.

I think it would be funny if Desire ended up getting tossed into Hob's garden while Dream is away doing fae things™️ in the forest. At first Hob panics (understandably, they aren't really expecting visitors in the middle of nowhere), but once he recognises that the being currently squishing his strawberries is another fae, he brings them inside (does he hope that seeing another of his kind might make Dream happy? Maybe. Think of it as enrichment for your lover). Needless to say, Dream isn't exactly thrilled to see his sibling, especially when they let slip that they're rather surprised to find them both alive and (relatively) well. Oopsie, your sibling might have had something to do with your recent troubles, Dream (who would have thought).

I'm hoping for some sort of reconciliation and some reflection from Desire? Maybe being shunned by their kind might help them reconnect. After all, Desire's gonna need all the help they can get if they are to find their beloved out there...

OMG I love this so much, thank you for sharing this glorious brain worm! I love the idea that Desire is out in the mortal realm doing market research for plotting his brother’s downfall and in the process meets Unity and—I’m imagining it wasn’t quite so Love At First Sight, because sorceress!Unity definitely knows better than to tangle with the fae and wants nothing to do with any of Desire’s shit. (Desire’s always liked a challenge.) But eventually, somehow, despite both of their better judgements, the love does happen. 

Also love the idea of Desire getting dumped into the (Dream’s! Special!) strawberry patch—they’re probably not looking too hot, ala Dream when he was first exiled. Hob absolutely takes them into the house as soon as he sees the ears. He’s learned to be wary of his fellow mortals but he’s still a sucker for fae, especially ones who bear a familial resemblance to his lover, and especially ones who are all alone 😩 and hurt 😩. (Dream obviously is unimpressed with all of this, but Hob is at this point well-practiced in tuning out Dream’s Are You Trying To Get Yourself Killed, I Don’t Care That You Survived Thirty-Three Years Without Me, You Won’t Be Surviving The Next Five Minutes If You Don’t Start Apologizing, You Useless Fragile Mortal Tirade).

Also! The idea of Dream and Desire hissing faeish insults at each other over the dinner table while Hob is desperately trying to steer the conversation back to English—hysterical. Dream getting possessive of Hob when Desire looks at him a few seconds too long, and Desire being like “I absolutely do not want your grubby little bear-man, Dream, calm your tits. Unlike you, I have standards.”—excellent. I love it all. 

(Though let’s be real, in this particular AU the moment Dream finds out Desire was the reason that Hob got shishkebabed, this goes from a family feud to attempted murder real quick. IDK if Dream would get over that for… at least a few decades. Desire would be turfed out of the house so fast their head would spin. Their only saving grace might be if Hob suggests that the faster they find Unity, the faster Desire will be out of their hair.) 

I’ll be honest, the possibilities for fae!Dream + siblings are limitless and wonderful, and I’m constantly sad that the cottagecore ‘verse ended up constructed in a way that means—without some very exceptional circumstances, as you have crafted here—we won’t ever really see Dream interacting with his family ever again. At least, not in the official version. Please feel free to tell me all about the elaborate ways in which fae!Dream and Desire get forced into a metaphorical Get Along Shirt, or Death dropping by with little fae care packages with all the stuff Dream misses from his home, or Delirium going on forest walks with Dream and asking him ten million questions about all the strange mortal animals and plants. Dream deserves better relationships with his siblings than what I dealt him in this ‘verse. <3

[ofdisregard]

NOT ACCEPTING ADDITIONAL REPLIES TO THIS STARTER, AT THIS TIME.

muse: dominic reyes. 40s. enforcer for the reyes crime family ( alt. crime verse ). open to: female / 25+. plot: big bad mob guy put in charge of protecting a snarky younger girl ( maybe also involved w organized crime in some way??? ) who is thoroughly NOT amused by the fact that she now has someone following her around all the time trying to keep her in check. starter tag: @indiestarter notes: replies will be posted as new threads for tracking purposes.

Dominic leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. His dark eyes tracked her every move, a blend of exasperation and amusement simmering beneath his stoic expression. She hadn’t stopped muttering complaints since he’d been assigned to her, and judging by her tone, she had no plans to stop anytime soon. "You done yet?" he asked, voice low and gravelly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Or are you gonna keep flapping your mouth the whole time I’m trying to keep you alive?" He flicked the ash from his cigarette and straightened up, the weight of his presence practically filling the room. Dominic Reyes didn’t babysit, not normally, and definitely not anyone with this much attitude. But orders were orders, and if she wanted to keep herself from becoming a liability—or worse—she was going to have to deal with it. "Look, princess," he said, his tone dropping into something just shy of a growl, "I don’t like this any more than you do, but if you think I’m gonna let you get yourself killed on my watch, you’re out of your damn mind." He gestured toward the door with a jerk of his head. "So how about you quit whining, grab whatever it is you can’t live without, and let me do my job, huh?" His smirk returned, sharp and teasing, as he added, "Unless you’re planning on taking a bullet with that mouth of yours, in which case, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show."

[quitealotofsodapop]

Jiǔwěihúlí/Jiuweihuli - The Nine Tailed Vixen

By the way; Wukong in "The Monkey King and the Infant"/TMKATI au isnt the only monkey getting an adoptive parental figure >:3

Went down a little of a Huli jing rabbit-hole after recieveing this ask from @dorothygale123:

And while researching Jin and Yin in the book, I realised some stuff;

In "Journey to the West", the Jin and Yin's mother is frequently described as "aged/old madam", making it likely that she had them in the demon equivalent of middle-age.

Here's the poetry Wukong jots down (he does that alot in the book) when he sees her for the first time;

"Snow-white hair all tousled,

And starlike eyes all aglow.

Her face, though ruddy, has many wrinkles;

She‟s full of spirit though few teeth remain.

Charming—like the frosted chrysanthemum;

Rugged—like an old pine tree after rain.

A scarf of fine-spun white silk wraps her head,

And bejeweled gold rings hang from her ears"

For some odd reason, the monkey cries at the sight of her (his excuse being that he has to bow to her while disguised as a servant). Then he abruptly bonks her and her servants while travelling before stealing her divine Binding Gold Rope and disgusing himself as her to trick her sons. And of course the whole Calabash incident happens, the boys uncle calls down an army of fox demons to fight the pilgrims, and Lao Tzu has to show up and smack his lab assistants across the head.

Which leaves the question... how does Lao Tzu know the kids of a random fox lady???

Well you see, in the Han-era (206 BCE - 220 CE); Xiwangmu was often depicted with a white-furred Huli Jing among her ladies-in-waiting. But any worship of fox-deities was out-lawed in the Song dynasty (960 CE - 1279 CE) due to a cult religion that worshipped Su Daji (of the "Investiture of the Gods/Fengshen Yanyi" fame).

So my idea for Jiuweihuli in the extended LMK-verse, is that she's was once Xiwangmu's og bestie, even long before the celestial tigress became Empress. The fox being among many chaotic and infernal spirits in the future Queen Mother's posse.

Upon the abdication of Yuanshi Tianzun as the Divine Emperor; Jiuweihuli would assist the future-Jade Emperor in his ascension to the throne, gaining her the titles "Dragon-Crushing/Supressing Vixen" due to her defeating multiple draconic rivals in battle.

For many centuries, Jiuweihuli and her family were welcome members of the Imperial Court. The older vixen having a position almost equal to a head consort despite her and the Emperor not having such interest in eachother.

Then the Investiture crisis happened...

Within years, all that Jiuweihuli had built in the Celestial Realm crumbled. The actions of Su Daji soured opinion of the Celestials towards all fox spirits. Jiuweihuli was forced to be exiled from the Jade Palace down to Earth to prevent her being killed in an angry mob.

Penniless, alone, and with only her trusty pipa to her name; Jiuweihuli would travel and sing.

Eventually she gained a reputation as a grand preformer, drawing in audiences and tudis alike. Most of her trainees were unaware of her true nature, and those who did kept it quiet - drama kids loved the tragedy of the vixen's tale and would sing it throughout opera houses.

And one day, some time after the Monkey King tore through Heaven; Jiuweihuli gained a very unusual apprentice.

Jiuweihuli, sitting at her vanity table: "You look familiar." Macaque, stepping out of the shadows: "I was once the attendant to Princess Iron Fan, but I believe both of our places in the court have been absolved." Jiuweihuli: "Oh yeah, I went to that wedding. Had to wear a glamour. Is that Bull prince treating her right?" Macaque: "He is. He was even willing to sacrifice his place in his own court for her." Jiuweihuli: "Ah. Young love. But what brings you here?" Macaque, sheepishly: "I uh... heard you were the person to go to if I wanted to learn how to preform professionally." Jiuweihuli: "...your boyfriend's in jail, right?" Macaque: "Uh, yeah?" Jiuweihuli, getting up from her vanity table: "Good. 'Cus you're about to recieve many admirers." Macaque: :'D!

You see, the older fox spirit knew she wasn't to be the "Vixen of the Stage" for much longer. She was already thousands of years old, and had found herself in the family-way by means of a romance gone sour. So when the dark, mysterious, and deadly beautiful Six-Earred Macaque showed up in her dressing room asking for mentorship? Jiuweihuli knew she had found her understudy.

With the Macaque taking on her most famous roles, Jiuweihuli was able to focus on raising her twin sons; Jin and Yin. Macaque often found himself dragged into babysitting the little terrors by the maternal fox, even if he had to admit their thieving skills were very good. The vixen in turn would protect the monkey from more imposing audience members/fans and encourage his more sarcastic humor.

She was of the shoulders Macaque cried upon when him and Wukong had their falling out.

Eventually the vixen managed to get into contact with an old... "friend" (the twins gag at the thought) Lao Tzu to provide the reckless boys some decent education.

Aaand of course Wukong had to show up centuries later and cause havoc for the fox family when the twins got a little wild with their teacher's stash/artifacts. Luckily Jiuweihuli's brother, Hu A'qi, managed to smooth things over with heaven and offered his studious daughter as another lab assistant to keep the boys in check. Jiuweihuli, cleaning her wounds, sent a letter informing Macaque that his "idiot boyfriend" was out of jail...

Jiuweihuli soon lost her understudy.

The shadow monkey too blinded by anger to consider who would have to pick up the pieces if he failed. Jiuweihuli would eventually go on to teach a hundreds of aspiring actors and musicians, but she always would mourn for her little shadow.

Cue the events of "The Monkey King and the Infant" where Macaque begins frequenting and eventually working at the Megapolis Threatre House. He recognises not only his Brotherhood-era friend Jade-Faced; but a certain old master of his...

Jiuweihuli: "Do I know you?" Macaque: "I should hope so. I was your understudy for many years." Jiuweihuli: "I've trained hundreds of understudies, hon." Macaque: "You trained me during the Tang-era? I could manipulate the shadows?" Jiuweihuli: "Doesn't ring a bell." *sly smirk* Macaque, realises she's messing with him: *sigh* "My idiot boyfriend hit you on the head with a cudgel and I stupidly ran after him and got killed." Jiuweihuli, dropping the act: "Mihou! My little moonlight! Oh how I've missed you!" *gives him a big lipstick-stained smooch on the cheek*

The old vixen is very protective of her understudy now that she has him back. Her motherly side really comes to the surface when she's interacting with the shadow monkey, even if her interactions with her biological children isn't as soft. Jin and Yin get a slap of her sandal more than a few times for their foolishness.

If she learns that Macaque has a kid/kid on the way, Jiuweihuli is going full Grandma-mode. She's always considered her understudy as equal to her own kits and now he's all grown up!! (╥ ω ╥)

And you better believe a certain Monkey King is getting his ass kicked by an old lady the second Jiuweihuli learns he's around.

[sroloc--elbisivni]

Bunnyguard master post

July 1, 2023: in the spirit of shameless self-promotion here's a collective post for the Usagi Yojimbo/Rottmnt fusion Leosagi fic series I've been working on this year. somewhat celebratory because 1. I'm very excited to have hit the halfway mark on this project 2. my birthday is later this month and I can do a little treat for myself if I want 3. it's my first day off in ages and I can spend my time luxuriantly and frivolously. Prompts taken from Year of the OTP; titles from Richard Siken "Litany in which certain things are crossed out."

Post last updated December 22, 2023

Bunnyguard verse premise in three bullet points:

The cast of Usagi Yojimbo are embedded in the Hidden City

Draxum helped raised the turtles

Usagi gets hired as a bodyguard for Leo a month after the Krang invasion

January - "missionfic" - something other than the desperation Usagi does his best to not embarrass himself while Leo tries to do the same and fails. (the hero shifts from one foot to the other)

February - "mermaid au" - no one will ever want to sleep with you A first meeting sparks a series of increasingly dumb and desperate decisions. (the repeated image of the lover destroyed)

March - "mutual pining" - your heart, and it is painted shut We skip ahead in the timeline to the point where Usagi has decided he's going to just quietly pine forever and Leo stops for five seconds of self-examination and immediately starts planning his wedding. (the same big and little words, all spelling out desire)

April - "No, I'm not dating your brother" - There is something underneath the floorboards After a series of shenanigans, (some of) Usagi's misconceptions are corrected and Leo eventually gets a full night's sleep. (bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing)

May - "accidental pet/child acquisition" - Quit milling around the yard and come inside Usagi uses his day off to be with his family, including his son, and Leo takes a turn being the babysitter instead of the babysat. (Inside your head you hear a phone ringing.)

June - "you're not what I expected" - These terms from the lower depths After being chased by a demon, Leo and Usagi end up in the bones of both of their pasts, one after the other. (I have told you where I'm coming from, so put it together.)

July - "enemies to lovers" - recently we have had our difficulties Leo screws up, Usagi gets hurt, and they have to work together to fix it. (the moment of epiphany, in gold light)

August - "au of your choice" (free space) - close enough to see the blue rings Usagi fights a dragon and Leo has a bunch of minor problems happen all at once. (But it doesn't work, these erasures, this constant refolding of the pleats)

September - "hurt/comfort" - Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? An unexpected attack forces everyone involved to reexamine their circumstances. (Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly flames everywhere)

October - "identity shenanigans" - I guess I can tell you that now. Our heroes go on a date to a mob warehouse and find out things that were not exactly secrets but definitely unknown. (I walk through your dreams and invent the future)

November - "be careful what you wish for" - You want a better story. Who wouldn't? A confrontation, a choice, a number of things undone. (It should mean laughter, not poison.)

December - "forgiveness" - so maybe I wanted to give you something Our heroes reckon with their actions, and choose to try again. (I want more seats reserved for heroes. Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.)

[alexanderwesker]

Character profile for my c!Wilbur

Took me some but here you have the character profile for my character, as promised in this post. Name: "Wilbur" Agathus Soot (in Basic[English in my Shattered!Verse]); Hilbert Agathus (in Ancient) Species: Nephilim(Half-Angel; Half-Godling of Death) Age: 36-ish (not counting the time spent in the Sky Gods' Games); 43 (in tHAW) Eye Colour: Dark Hazel Brown (but it mostly looks whiskey coloured because of the magic in his blood) Height: 192cm (6'2 ft) Description: Because of his height, he seems very lanky, making him look deceptively fragile. But he is actually quite well built because of all the training he has undergone under his father, Philza. Wil is pretty pale, almost pasty, no matter how much sun he gets, and has a semi-permanent tired look in his eyes. His hair is dark auburn making them look brown in almost all lighting but direct light where the copper highlights are more evident, he keeps them long enough to tie a low, short ponytail at the back of his head. He has scars all over his body, mostly focused on his chest and arms from the constant fighting against the monsters of the night(mobs), and a jagged scar on his back, that he got during the L'Manberg War, that still hurts to this day. He has very sharp canines because of his non-human heritage, though they sharpen only when he is particularly furious, worried or feeling protective. Relationships: Philza Soot, Angel of Death: Father(alive) Lady Death: Mother(alive) Theseus "Tommy" Philip Soot: Younger Brother(alive) Technoblade, God of War and Bloodshed: Family Friend, Uncle (alive) Fundy Soot: Son (alive) Sally Soot: Wife (dead) Personality: Wil has a good head on his shoulders, quick in thinking and ready to act. He's good at planning around stuff, though he tends to use his planning also as a way to escape reality when he doesn't want to deal with his emotions. Not very in contact with his emotions because of his father's teachings, which is a problem to him as he feels things stronger than most people do. He's also selfless to a fault, always trying to do best for the people he cares about, no matter what that costs him.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Presley ~ A Curtis Everett AU ~ Part One

Curtis Everett x OFC Presley Adams

Synopsis:

Curtis Everett is a hard working man. As the head of the mob of Concord, he does everything he can to provide for his wife and children. His life is perfect. Until it's not.

After a devastating accident, Curtis is alone with his children and needs some serious help.

Presley Adams needs to find work and fast. Running from her past she just wants to lay low and earn enough to get her out of town. Until she starts working for Curtis as his live in nanny.

As she falls in love with this family, can she stop her past from finding her? Or will her past be the end of the Everett reign in Concord?

Book two of the Five Kings of Boston series

A/N: It's here!

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part One – The Boss 

Welcome to Concord.  An up-and-coming town outside of Boston.  Where kids can play with their friends and shop owners advertise with signs on the street.  It’s a quiet town.  An unassuming town.  A town where one-man rules and no one forgets it.  This town, Concord, is Curtis Everett’s town. 

** 

“Anna, come back to me.”  A man slept in his bed, tossing and turning, reliving an old nightmare.  

Four Years Prior... 

Curtis’s POV 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be ok?” 

I could see that my wife is exasperated with me. “Honey, it's just to see my parents and back. One weekend. You can last one weekend with the kids.” She took in my grumpy face and smiled. “Curtis, I would take them with me but...” 

“I know, it's for their safety,” I grumble.  Anna giggles at me.  I love that she giggles at me. Her big scary mob husband. 

My name is Curtis Everett, head of the Everett family of Concord, mob boss and King of this town just outside of Boston. Most people would consider me a scary sight.  Tall, brooding with a buzz cut, beard and piecing blue eyes that, more than a few people have said, seemed to be able to suck out your soul. I took over for my dad a couple of years ago. My business in the city is protection, that everyone paid, gambling, which Sherrif Bodecker turned a blind eye to for a fee, and clubs, strip or otherwise.  I ruled with a ruthlessness that could make a man piss himself.  

But I know my place. I have four other equals that answer to a higher power.  

But in my town, Concord, I am the head of our town, the law, the savior and the devil.  

I only have three weaknesses in the entire world: my wife and children. I just don’t like being away from you, sweetheart. 

“I know, my love, but daddy is sick, and momma just needs a break for a few days.” Standing on the curb at the airport, Anna Everett knows me very well. Her big, surly, bossy of a mob boss is truly a teddy bear underneath, she would tell her mother.  Her father had been the same until he had stepped down to her brother.  She married into the Everett family to tighten the alliance between families from Chicago and Boston, so she was well versed in protection and sacrifice. It was just chance that Anna and I had met in college before and were already in love when the alliance was made. I still think that Dad and my father-in-law set us up, hoping that Anna and I falling in love, would be the outcome. 

I pulled her back into my arms and kissed her forehead. “I know. Just hurry back to me, Mrs. Everett. I love you.”  

“I love you, Mr. Everett.” She kissed him slowly and passionately. “Take care of my babies.”  

“Always.”   

I’ve been in love with that woman since freshman year in college.  I saw her for the first time at the coffee cart, her long blonde hair pushed away from her face with a blue head band and green eyes enhanced with glasses. She had been laughing with her girlfriends, looking so naturally happy; it was love at first sight. It took two weeks for me to work the courage to ask her out. I had never drunk so much coffee in those two weeks. Cup after cup, waiting for the moment, hoping it would be the day until I saw her again. When I approached her, she blushed from the attention.  Her hair was up that day, her glasses on top of her head. “Hi,” I said. She smiled and I was a goner.  

I asked her to lunch and from that day, we were inseparable. We had never been away from each other for more than a day in 10 years. I watched as Anna walked through the terminal and security. She turned around and waved, blowing me a kiss.  I caught it and kissed my hand, waving goodbye.  

It would be the last time I would ever see her.  

Present... 

I jolted awake from the dream. Every once in a while, I would still dream of that last day with Anna. How much I wished I had insisted she fly private instead of commercial, forced her to stay home and fly her parents to us, so she didn’t have to leave.  

You’re supposed to grow old with the love of your life. 

Raise your children and then watch them raise their own children.  Hold hands in the cold. Kiss in the rain. Dance in the sunshine. Make love in the moonlight. Live the life you had planned out.  

The love of your life is not supposed to die in a plane crash.  

Now I was left with two small children. The lights of my life. Joshua, my eight-year-old son, and Everly, my five-year-old girl, had grown up without their mother.  I wasn’t even sure if Everly remembered her at all. She had been just one when the accident occurred.  

I tried so much to keep her memory alive. Anna had been the best mother, the best wife, the best partner any man could have asked for, especially for the life I led. Being one of the five kings had its perks, of course, but it left my family in constant danger.  

I had the crash investigated for sabotage, but none was found. We took precautions when we traveled, made sure my wife flew under an assumed name because of her status.  Not just as my wife but also because she was the daughter of a former head of a family as well. The Monteleones were strong out in the Midwest and when Anna married me, I made a promise to her father that I would do anything to protect her. I would go in guns blazing if anyone dared tried to hurt my family.  My Anna. 

A plane crash was something I couldn’t predict. I couldn't control it. I couldn’t protect her from that.  

I failed. 

I sighed as I stretched and got out of bed. I went to the bathroom and then checked on my children.  Everly and Joshua still shared a nursery, but I knew it was time to let Joshua have his own room away from his little sister. I chuckled quietly when I saw Joshua half off the bed, tangled in his blankets, mouth slightly open. I shook my head and gently adjusted his son back into his bed, laying the blankets back over him. My daughter stirred slightly. “Daddy?” 

“Morning princess,” I whisper. “Shh, let's stay quiet to let brother sleep, ok?”  I picked up my little girl, a perfect duplicate of my Anna. She yawned and curled into my neck as I walked us downstairs. I sat in my chair by the fire, early November bringing a chill in the air, enjoying her cuddles into me as she woke up. “You want some breakfast, Evie?” She nodded and I carried her to the kitchen.  “Morning Ma.” 

Sylvia Everett smiled at her son and granddaughter. “Morning Curtis. Morning my Evie doll. I made cinnamon rolls. Just need to fry up some bacon.”  

“Thanks Ma.” I kissed her cheek and went to set up Everly in her booster and her colors. I returned to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. “How’d you sleep Ma?” 

“Ok, I guess.  Still weird not to have your father next to me.” My dad had been diagnosis with cirrhosis of the liver.  They caught it pretty late, so there wasn’t much more we could do but make him comfortable until he passed.  It was hell for my mother. Her entire life had been devoted to my dad and now here she was, a widow, just like me.  

“I know Ma but its only been six months. It doesn’t get easier, you just get used to it.”  

Sylvia’s heart broke for her son again. While his father had died from illness, Anna was taken from then suddenly and that was crueler and harder. “I know, my boy.” She patted my hand. “What’s the plan for today?” 

I made a face. “I’ve got meetings today.”  

“With who?” She took as sip. Ma had been like a consigliere or counselor for my father as he grow the family business.  She would lend her advise from time to time but mostly she. supported my dad in any way she could. It had been unheard of in the old days, but my dad embraced it. Just like Anna, Ma was raised in this world and understood it better than my father sometimes. When I took over and Anna was gone, she did the same for me. I’m forever grateful that she stepped in to help me with my family.  

“Some guy from Jersey, Giovanni, I think. He’s looking for some help with something. Who knows, Anthony’s got all the details. I have a call with Barber and with Rogers. I’m hoping to get it all done before lunch so I can throw the ball around with Joshua. And Miss Everly has requested cupcakes.” I sighed. “Not sure how I’m going to pull that one off.”  

“You’re a good father Curtis.” Sylvia put her cup down. “I’ll make the batter for you and leave instructions.”  She played with her hand. “I did want to talk to you about something.”  

Concern flooded my body. “What is it Ma? You ok?” 

“I’m fine. It’s just,” she sighed, “I’ve been thinking about moving back to the Paris property.” 

I stopped mid sip. “You want to leave?” My head was spinning. Yes, I had been the head of our family for several years, having taken the reigns three years after we had got married from my father.  My father had developed a distaste for the family business and could no longer hold up the demands of being the Don. He had spent years training his only child to take over. And had great joy when I fell in love with the heiress of the Monteleone family. I took the reins, stepped in and the transition was smooth. Nothing kept the family down. Until the loss of my queen. “Ma...” 

"Son, you have done a terrific job raising your children and running the family business.”  

“Yes, because you have been here to help me.”  

“I know, but I would like to retire and enjoy my time now. I think you should hire a cook and a nanny for the children.”  

“But...” 

“Curtis, it’s not like I am asking you to fall in love again. I am asking you to find help while you work. It’s the best thing for all of us. I want to retire, enjoy the last years of my life.  I don’t have to stay at the Paris property forever, but I need time to grieve and resettle into my new life.” 

I couldn’t ignore her argument. She had been with me through my grief, taking care of my father when he was sick and helping raise my children.  She had earned the right to be a bit selfish and live in her favorite estate. I pulled her in for a hug. “You won’t leave until I find someone right?” 

“Of course, my son. I need to make sure they are the best fit for my grandchildren.”  

My mother is a smart woman. I didn’t delay. I took her advice seriously and found a chef for the house right away. Adam Jones had been highly recommended from Andrew Barber’s wife, who was a baker herself. He came in to interview and I found him direct and agreeable. “I have two small children and they usually will eat whatever I put in front of them, but you understand that there will be some aversion to things.”  

Adam nodded. “Of course, sir. I had a lot of time, working with children to know how to make the food great. What ages?” 

“Eight and five. My five-year-old is the one that can be the pickiest.”  

As I finished the sentence, Everly ran into the room. “Daddy, Joshie is trying to put a bug in my hair!” She climbed into my lap.  

“Evie, sweetheart, I’m in a meeting.”I saw Clint chase after her and stop but I waved him off to stand by the door.  Clint was my right hand and was protective of the children. We had been best friends since grade school and was the children’s godfather. He would wait until Everly came out to take her back to the yard.  

“But Daddy...” 

“It’s alright Mr. Everett,” Adam interrupted.  “Hi Evie, I’m Adam.”  

Everly, like every little girl who found a handsome man, became shy and curled into me. “Hi.”  

Adam chuckled. “Do you like cupcakes?” 

Evie perked up a little.  “Yes. My nana makes me pink ones with a strawberry on top.”  

“That sounds so good.  I make some with little flowers and sprinkles that make it sparkle. I used to cook for a princess. Maybe I can make them for you?” 

She nodded with enthusiasm and turned to me with her big green eyes that she knows I can’t say no to. “Daddy, can we?” 

“Of course, princess.” I kissed the top of her head. “But I need to speak to Adam a little more so go play for a little bit and then I’ll come have a tea party with you. Sound good?”  

“You’re the best daddy ever!” She hopped down and made her way out of the room.  She turned back. “Bye Adam!” I saw Clint take her hand and walk away. 

“Bye Princess Evie.” Adam smiled and turned back to me. “Sorry, my girlfriend, she has a daughter a little older than Evie but every girl loves a little sparkle.”  

I laughed. “Yes, they do. She is like her mother.  Joshua, my son, takes after me. Very athletic and opinionated. I’ll introduce you on the way out. Otherwise, any questions?” 

Joshua ran into the room at that moment. “Dad, Evie was lying about the bug.” He took note of the man sitting in front of his father. “Oh sorry.” He made to move to back out of the room.  

“It's fine. Joshua, this is Adam Jones. I think he might be our new chef.”  

Adam took note of the boy who looked just like his father. “Hi Joshua.”  

“Hello Mr. Jones.  You can call me Josh. Dad is the only one who calls me Joshua.” The little boy stuck out his hand. Adam took it a shook it, noting the force the boy had put into it.  

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He gave him the once over. “You look like a boy who thrives on burgers and fries.”  

Josh nodded. “That’s my favorite. Well, that and pizza. I hate Brussel sprouts.”  

Adam chuckled “Good to know. I’m sure I’ll learn all the things you like to eat.” Adam winked at him, and Joshu nodded.  

“I’m sorry for interrupting Dad. I’ll go check on Nana and Everly. It was nice to meet you.”  

“Same.” Adam watched the boy leave. “He looks just like you.”  

“Poor bugger,” I replied with another laugh. “Now where were we?”  

We discussed the finer details of the job, salary, hours and whatnot. I walked the man out the door and was shaking his hand when I noticed a young woman wandering outside the gate of my home. She looked about 24 or 25, with dark brown hair and glasses. She wore a black peacoat with long black boots. Something about her reminded me of my Anna.  As Adam walked past her with a nod, she approached the steps to the house. “I apologize, is this the Everett residence?” 

I couldn’t help but stare at her. Dark curls hung down her back with blue green eyes framed by black framed glasses. Her full lips were a sweet pink, and I had the sudden urge to feel them against mine.   

What the fuck? 

I mentally shook myself and cleared my throat. “Yes, and you are?” 

She gave me an earth-shattering smile and I was blown back. It was a smile that was just like my Anna’s. 

“My name is Presley. I am here for the nanny position.” 

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

[jacksgreysays]

"seven of spades" - Friendship Is A (Mutual) Con!verse, Team 7 vs. crime mob Akatsuki(?) maybe?

Seven of Spades

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” “Oh,” says the dead man with smile, “we’re going to need a lot more than just two.”

—

There is a dead man walking this earth who has a grudge against Kakashi and his team. This dead man has connections all around the world, enough money and weapons and blackmail to take over a country, and just enough rage to save it for a specific goal instead.

What happens is not a game of chess—nothing so neat and orderly, no clean black and white lines, no rules of conduct—instead, it is a game of chance, of bluffing and gumption and desperation. A rigged game of probability, where the deck is marked, the dealer has fast hands, and the house always wins.

The dead man knows every con Kakashi knows and is far more willing to use the more ruthless plans. He’ll fold and give up a bomber here, a forger there, because he has the chips to spare. He’s patient. He’s been patient ever since his death. All he needs is for Kakashi to slip up once.

There is a dead man waiting for Kakashi to join him.

—

“My brother has been acting strange lately,” Sasuke says, apropos of nothing, in the middle of their stake out. The shock of it has Naruto tearing his eyes away from the, admittedly, extremely boring target to look first at Sasuke, then at Shikako, clearly alarmed.

It is doubly alarming because Sasuke never talks about his family.

Shikako tries to convey with just her eyebrows and a tilt of the head that perhaps Sasuke is undergoing a stroke or has become delirious with a sudden onset fever and that Sakura, as resident medic, should check.

The fact that Sakura can understand her complex suggestion via facial expression says just how accustomed she’s become to this weird team. It’s that same familiarity which immediately makes her shake her head in a hard negative: a more naive and infatuated Sakura would have jumped at this opportunity, but the last time she tried to do an impromptu check up on Sasuke, he almost dislocated her shoulder. He did apologize for that… eventually.

“How can you tell?” Sai asks, not even bother to interpret all of the nonverbal communication going on.

“What do you mean?” Sasuke asks in return, because the rest of the stake out team is too busy making faces at each other to intervene.

“Well, you’re strange so how would you know what normal behavior looks like?” Asks Sai, resident expert on normal behavior.

The stake out van explodes.

—

Interpol wants Tenzo back.

Kakashi knows it. Yamato knows that Kakashi knows it. Kakashi knows that Yamato knows that Kakashi knows it.

They are in a car on the opposite side of the city from the kids.

They have not said anything for five hours straight.

—

There is a dead man walking this earth who wants Kakashi alone and miserable and feeling exactly like he feels.

There is a dead man waiting for Kakashi to join him in the dirt.

~

A/N: I don’t know how well this comes across, but it is Obito. I realized the shape/ghost of him was more prevalent in Friendship Is A (Mutual) Con than I had remembered. He’s mentioned a lot or, at least, hinted at a lot—which I suppose shouldn’t surprise me since, weirdly enough, this series’ “main character” is Kakashi—such that he feels like the ultimate big bad. And then if you take out the Kaguya moon thing and the fact that Madara is undying and manipulated Obito—then, yeah, Obito as the “real mastermind” behind Akatsuki does make sense.

Also, the title Seven of Spades is SO—all I could think of was that dig two graves quote. Because spades! Are shovels! And if there are seven of the team then there are seven graves! Obito’s trying to kill the whole team (le gasp!)

If I were to continue, the miraculous twist would be that Itachi had been treating Obito’s [[insert medical condition here]] and so the team thought he was evil, but then actually it was a double bluff in that the Uchiha family (because they are still mostly alive) are either extremely involved in law enforcement—or maybe just Shisui is, who had also faked his own death in order to catch their evil cousin—or were like… we can’t let you keep doing this, not if you’re going to go after your own baby cousin (not when it has gone from profit into murder. I’m not sure as to the ethics of the Uchiha family in this universe tbh)

Anyway, hope you enjoyed

[intothetlkverse]

Decided to challenge myself by drawing every single TLK character out there, up until this point in time, and post it here. You can see the finished project on my main account, though I figured to post it on my tumblr just show I could proudly show off my work and a few of my head canons.

Here's all the mongooses across TLK:

Starting off with TLG we have Bambun/Bambu(bamboo) from "Mama Binturong", a banded mongoose. Very helpful, he is also one of the creatures in the community who is terrified of Mama Binturong, now Mama Civet, and her porcupine army, and is secretly very pleased when they decide to leave to go after the Lion Guard. By the time they return, he and the other members of their community have built the tuliza patch and restored peace and protection in the forest, allowing for the easy and non-fearful distribution of tuliza and other medicinal herbs which they sure as fluff aren't gonna let an old batty civet and her army of simping spikeballs take over and bully them ever again.

Speaking of bullies, in the swamps from "Marsh of Mystery" we have brothers Krud'dha/Krwada(crude-Xhosa) and Pãgala/Agala(don't go-Igbo), both Egyptian mongooses. Part of a local mongoose mob, the two, like the rest of their brethren, are fiercely protective of their territory, including their resources, and are not at all friendly to outsiders. If anything positive can be said about them though, at least they're very protective of their family and also give Mama Civet, her porcupines, and the rest of Makucha's Army a hard time getting through their marsh as well.

Next up is the last of our TLG mongoose and the start of cut ones, Shauku(passion) and his father Mabu(mosquitoes). You know Shauku is from TLG, though Mabu is interesting, as he is a deleted early iteration of Timon from the "King of the Jungle" Draft. In my version, Mabu helps a young Rego during his and Kwashi's exile from their homeland, with Mabu accompanying them on their journey after Rego is attacked by a giant bird of prey and thrown into a pond. He is described as being friends with Kwashi, aka Rafiki's early iteration and his father in my verse, and as talkative, hyperactive, and good-humored. After Rego's return to both his home and to power, Mabu decides to travel for awhile, eventually reaching the Pridelands, settling down and having Shauku, along with several other pups. Meanwhile Shauku's interest in the Lion Guard, like with the other members of his friend group, eventually lead him to serving alongside the future majordomo and guard, either as members on the team or as scouts/confidants for the majordomo's network. Both are also banded mongooses like Bambun, and Mabu was mostly based off the adult mongoose we see in TLG.

Lastly is the Komboli Rangers, mentioned across multiple early TLK drafts, though their names are mentioned in "King of Beasts" draft: Desma/Esma(Kind defender-Arabic), Jamila(beautiful, elegant-Arabic), Mandisa(sweet-Xhosa), Ozina/Zina(welcoming), Lambida/Ambida(Worshippers), and a meerbaby named Nute/Nuti(knot-Arabic), mentioned in the May 1990 King of Beasts script. Now before you come after me for them being meerkats in the draft, let me explain. Meerkats are technically mongooses, being the smallest species of them, while 'mongooses' in general tend to have more bushier tails and broader faces, as well as their immunity to snake venom like honey badgers. Additionally, while I had originally thought about making them meerkats.... well after doing my list of meerkats, I was just kinda over doing them. Plus I have literally never seen any fanart or designs of the Komboli Rangers anywhere, so I don't think its that big of an issue if I do a slightly different species.

Anyways, these gals are small group of dwarf mongoose who recently lost most of their members and home to a horrible event. The six find themselves at the Oasis and petition themselves to Timon's meerkat colony, offering to act as scouts/guards for them in exchange for letting them stay. Given the closeness in species, the six are accepted in and they have adapted well to their new home. Jamila is the mother of all the girls and grandmother of Nuti. She's getting on in years and ever since the death of her husband and mate she has seemed to lose a lot of energy and strength, though still loves her daughters and grandson dearly and worries for them. Esma is the oldest and the leader of her sisters and the main breadwinner for her family. She was the one who helped rescue them with their father during the horrible event, a migrating stampede crossing over their burrow area and causing a den-cave in. Her father and she saved their family, though only one of them managed to get themselves out. Since then, Esma has taken on more of a mature, parental, protective role alongside her mother by leading them to a new land, taking on a roll with the locals to help provide for her family, and being the reliable big sister. Zina is the second eldest and the mother of Nuti, as well as the most maternal and protective of her family. She does her best to try and get Esma to take breaks, often by getting her to hang out with her son or rest in the oasis' many cool, refreshing pools. Mandisa is the thirst eldest and most hyperactive and cheerful of her sisters, trying to get them to smile, preparing snacks and comfy nests to rest in on their breaks, and just trying to be the positive ray of sunshine in their lives. Ambida is the youngest and also one of the most stern and quiet. She understands what happened to their father and what Esma is trying to do, so she is doing her best to stick with her sister, trading shifts or standing alongside her, keeping wary of raptors, reptiles, and other predators. Nuti is the baby of the family, beloved by all his aunts, grandmother, and mom, as well as the meerkat colony next door. He can be shy and introverted at time, but is friendly and a good listener. He eventually gains an interest in Uncle Max's digging crew and wants to join. Though the Oasis is much safer then the plains they live in, it's not like predators don't exist and that jungles can't get cold at night, so burrowers are still needed and wanted. Nuti begins a sort of mentorship with Uncle Max which gradually turns into him seeing Uncle Max like an uncle too.

Though meerkat and mongoose society/cultures are a bit differently, they work well together enough that she feels her family is safe with them, especially this Ma-meerkat. Their story is partially inspired by Cameron the meerkat that was adopted into a family of banded mongooses, though here it's reversed, more then one adoption, plus these guys are African dwarf mongooses. Very capable and fearless little guys, though smaller then the meerkats. They also scurry around on all legs, unlike the meerkat colony, which are weirdly mostly bipedal.

[tiianwens]

29. Reaction to sudden interpersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) --- for the excessively detailed hc meme !

the excessively detailed hc meme.

putting his heart under a thousand locks and doing what needs to be done, and then processing it much, much later. too many people died on him, and he's been hurt in other ways too many times (in both lifetimes), but any sort of disaster is usually a call to action. his skills are needed, so he has to stay level-headed and cool to make sure no one else gets hurt, and of course, the first instinct that kicks in is to protect his disciples. the aftermath will leave him shattered where no one can witness it, but on the outside he would usually appear so calm and unperturbed that it would be only natural to assume he doesn't care at all.

the same applies to conflict/interpersonal painful situations. if it's possible to leave and avoid, he'd leave and avoid. if it's not (e.g. in 0.5 verse where the discomfort is constant and escaping the situation physically isn't an option), he'll try to distance his mind and heart from it as much as possible, usually involving going nonverbal and avoiding any form of communication. the man is too proud to let his true feelings be known. he's not really used to anyone giving a damn either, so it's easier to just keep everything bottled up and slowly pull the thorns out one by one and assess the damage while no one watches.

but when i think of the worst case scenarios for him (big story spoilers ahead for those who are reading the book and don't want plot twists to be ruined!!), there are two amazing illustrations:

— the realization that he fucked up in 0.5 if he managed to a) allow his disciple to be affected by a horrible, irreversible curse that slowly but surely eroded and erased his entire personality and b) watch the man he loved turn into a monster and deem it the result of his own hatred rather than a curse. because when conflict occurred, CWN was the one to distance himself where he could've apologized (he wanted to apologize, yet he chose to do it by proxy who followed his instructions and didn't mention that he was the one who made the goddamn wontons).

and it left him with the horrible knowledge that he couldn't share with anyone, as he knew that whoever was behind it would be watching closely and things could become worse. it left him defenceless on so many levels because he couldn't do anything to help (as it was too late and he didn't have a golden core anymore) and he couldn't even hide behind the facade of resentment anymore — it's easy to hate a self-made monster, but not so easy to hate someone you loved and failed. when i say that sex scenes in 2ha aren't skippable because they contain essential character development, chapters 247-250 or around that are the ones on my mind. the realization left CWN in such an intense emotional disarray that he threw the remains of his dignity out of the window and for the first time showed that he wanted this too. and for him, in that verse, it's huge. and yet he collected himself and managed to come up with a plan to do something, even though he had nothing to counter with and the damage was irreversible.

— and secondly, having to deal with a massive calamity after losing many people he held dear and most importantly, Mo Ran. i can't think of anything worse than what he's gone through at that point. he watched the man he loved get destroyed by an angry mob, knowing that he wasn't guilty. he slaughtered his way through to at least give him some peace, while being very much aware that saving him was no longer an option. and after all that he knew he had to go on, he had to face the living corpse with the same face and the same memories, the twisted and distorted projection of his beloved.

but he managed to put that grief on hold and he almost single-handedly thwarted the big evil plan in action. he made sure that whoever wanted to be saved was saved, and only then did he ask to 'let him be selfish for once'. and that selfish want, to him, was to die with Taxian-jun (the wording still sends me, it's such an insane detail). so he locked that pain away, did what had to be done, and then allowed it to finally consume him.

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for September 13, 2023

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 24:21-22 (KJV): 21 My son, fear thou the LORD and the king: and meddle not with them that are given to change: 22 For their calamity shall rise suddenly; and who knoweth the ruin of them both? Proverbs 24:21-22 (AMP): 21 My son, reverently fear the Lord and the king, and do not associate with those who are given to change (of allegiance, and are revolutionary); 22 For their calamity shall rise suddenly, and who knows the punishment and ruin which both (the Lord and the king) will bring upon the rebellious?

Thought for the Day

Verse 21 - This verse makes it clear that we are to give reverential fear to God. God is the one who sets the authority structures on the earth; therefore, we should honor those positions. He set government authority over cities and countries, ministry order over the church, and parental order over families. It was God who created the home and put the husband as head of it. He put the offices of the five-fold ministry over the church with the apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers as the leaders. He also wanted Old Testament Israel, as the first nation led by God, to be an example of His leadership over a group of people. God's plan in the earth is one of order, and therefore He expects us to honor the offices and positions of earthly leaders who rule in authoritative roles. Anarchy and rebellion are acts that are motivated by the devil. (There is a Biblical and proper way to deal with those in authority who abuse their positions; however, it is not revolt and anger that has a mob mentality behind it.) "Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God. Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation. For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same: For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil" (Romans 13:1-4).

God set the five-fold ministry of the offices of apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers over the church for leadership. "And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ" (Ephesians 4:11-12). It was God who established the family unit and set the husband as the head of it. "Wives, submit yourselves unto your husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore, as the church is subject unto Christ, let the wives be to their husbands in everything. Husbands love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it" (Ephesians 5:22-25).

Verse 22 - Today's verses also entreat us to avoid rebellious and double-minded people who are unstable and keep changing their loyalties, taking first one side and then another of an issue. These are unstable in all of their ways (James 1:5-8). Those who are given to changing loyalties will suddenly come to ruin. Punishment could come as a judgment for breaking God's laws, or it could come as a penalty from a ruler for breaking the law of the land, or it might be both.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, I am grateful that You are a God of order, and I ask You to help me to always obey Your laws and the laws in our land that are for our good. I ask You to remove any rebellion from my heart and give me a submissive spirit. Lord, may I always honor and respect those whom You have placed over me. I also pray that we will be given good men and women to rule over us in all government offices of the land. Lord, may they take advice from godly counsel and heed the Words of the Bible so that we all may lead quiet and peaceable lives. I ask this in the name of Jesus, my Lord. Amen.

[lcnelyday]

AVAILABLE VERSES BREAKDOWN:

THE GOLDEN RANCH: the biggest cattle ranch in montana/texas, run by tyler hancock. publicly deals with cattle and horses, training and raising. privately has a grow op for marijuana. possible triggers: crime, drugs, drinking, violence, smoking, death available muses: adam mcgill (wrangler), bo linklater (wrangler, foreman in training), judas palma (foreman), lincoln ward (wrangler), lori gallagher (residential vet), maggie hancock (heir and smartass), nellie dawson (barrel racer and troublemaker), sawyer linklater (wrangler & trainer), tyler hancock (owner), willa hancock (hurricane willa aka tyler's cousin that was born of chaos). inspiration: yellowstone.

VOLCANO GIRL: an alternative rock band, up and coming, two albums released. possible triggers: drinking, drugs available muses: danny rollins (drummer), hanna rollins (vocalist & bassist), walker 'texas' reid (vocalist & guitaris) inspiration: this band. this album.

THE SUPERNATURALS: a collection of unrelated characters for supernatural plots. possible triggers: horror, religion, witchcraft, violence, blood, murder, drugs, smoking available muses: julie petrichor (podcaster), lila barton (coven witch, see the barton legacy below), sera poriosolo (seraphim angel), silas barton (vampire ex witch, see the barton legacy below), thane reynolds (god of death), winnie barton (coven witch, demon hunter, see the barton legacy below) inspiration: the x files, lore (podcast), wynonna earp, beautiful creatures, supernatural, good omens

THE BARTON LEGACY: a group of witches that operate and control the pacific northwest. run by a matriarch, works with other supernatural beings, compared to a mafia/gang type deal. possible triggers: torture, abuse, alcohol, drugs, witchcraft, supernatural, blood, murder, death available muses: lila barton (matriarch witch), silas barton (400 year old vampire & ex witch), winnie barton (reluctant witch, demon hunter) inspiration: beautiful creatures, wynonna earp, hell's angels

IT'S ABOUT CRIME: a series of connected and unconnected criminals or those connected to criminals. possible triggers: murder, crime, death, blood, drinking, drugs, violence, torture, available muses: elena toro (daughter of a shady billionaire), lila barton (head of a crime family that runs the pacific northwest), millie woods (the daughter of a media conglomerate), noah pendragon (hired thug), richie pearson (counterfeiter with a team of criminals), tate o'brien (con artist in training), whitney fernstrom (con artist & assassin), winnie barton (part of crime family running the pacific northwest), wolff weiss (assassin) inspiration: succession, sons of anarchy, focus, killing eve, james bond, anything with a mob/mafia/gang, that one scene where jon bernthal's character kills a man because a pretty girl is scared she killed a man listen i know i reblog it once a week and sometimes once a day but it lives in my head rent free and i need all the plots regarding this idea okay?

[walkept]

KURT.

introduction: mutant, son of mystique and destiny, member of the superhero team called x-men (and, formerly, excalibur), kurt wagner (aka nightcrawler) was raised in the bavarian alps by a romani sorceress. not formally adopted by her, kurt spent most of his early life in a circus, where his "devilish" appearance was accepted instead of feared and mistrusted. there he displayed a natural talent for acrobatics and soon became the circus' star aerial artist. after a fateful incident involving the owner of the circus and a mob of men, kurt used his powers for the first time in order to escape, teleporting away from danger. when kurt was 20 years old, charles xavier rescued him from yet again another mob and offered him a place in the x-men.

25-30 y / o. what looks to be blue skin is actually a soft layer of fur covering his entire body and that, along with his tail and shining golden eyes with no pupils, definitely makes him stand out. he also has pointed ears and sharper than normal canines, akin to fangs. despite his average height (175 cm) and lithe frame, kurt sports solid muscles in his back, arms and tighs and his spine is extremely flexible.

notes. i've read some of the comics involving him, but not nearly all of them and god knows trying to keep up with marvel comics is out of my league. due to this i will keep his most relevant story beats while adapting the rest to fit with rp partners and personal headcanons.

+ powers & abilities

teleportation. minor levels of shadow manipulation to avoid being seen. capable of seeing in the dark.

prehensile tail. olympic level acrobat. skilled in hand to hand combat, though fencing is where he excels at. trained in martial arts.

weaknesses: regular diseases and injuries can afflict him; due to kurt being a neyaphem (ancient race of mutants with demonic appearances) angel blood is dangerous for him.

the choices we make, the chances we take, define us.

+ misc

(i) he is a staunch believer of god and adeheres to his message of compassion and hope. studied teology but never actually became a priest. (ii) he is in possesion of an astral blade (hopesword), which is also the physical manifestation of his own, never faltering, hope. the sword is stored into his body and allows him to undo certain spells (he restored his mother's memories), but it is implied to have a much greater power that has yet to be discovered. similar to the soulsword, created by his foster mother with fragments of his soul. (iii) can speak and understand various languages, but he still has a distinct german accent. (iv) he has only three digits for each hand and two toes for each foot.

CANON VERSE ROUTES,

default. as a successful and beloved superhero, kurt has finally found somewhere he belongs and people he can consider family, until he tragically dies to ensure the survival of the mutant race. in the afterlife, kurt encounters his presumed father azazel. after stopping his nefarious plans to attack paradise (with the help of his fellow x-men), he uses his own blood magic to bind him to earth, cutting him off from his armies. that allows kurt to go back to the world of the living. at a steep price: leaving his soul behind. dying and coming back to life takes a heavy toll on him and, save dire circumstances where his help is needed, he distances himself from the hero life. as a result, however, he starts to dabble in the occult more often, navigating the supernatural netherworld.

vigilante. when mutant kind's peace and very existence is shattered, leaving most of them lost and presumed dead, he is brainwashed by the anti mutant organization orchis and forced to publicly kill three heads of state, tainting mutant reputation against his will. disillusioned by these events and the costant warring between mutants and humans, kurt leaves behind his identity and dons one of spiderman's discarded suits to become the vigilante spinnenman (people seem to prefer calling him in more creative ways, such as.. hellcrawler and spidemon). he also reunites with one of his mothers (mystique) and learns the truth about the circumstances that led him to be raised by another woman in bavaria.

+ CROSSOVERS / AUS,

general fantasy. tba

urban fantasy. tba.

modern (non mutant). drama student. normal city life. complicated family issues. adopted by a german couple living in america.

alt modern (vicious). eo. fled bavaria after accidentally killing his foster brother. took refuge in a circus for a while but had to escape again when they discovered his powers and tried to cage and sell him.

& more available! always willing to throw ideas around to make interactions easier

[random-movie-ideas]

Batman Villain Movie Ideas, Part XXI: Carmine Falcone

Strictly speaking, this post is for all of the general mob boss/crime lord types floating around the Batman-verse, such as Sal Maroni, Roland Daggett, Rupert Thorne, all those guys. Carmine seems to be generally the most popular, so we'll focus on him. Like Bruno Mannheim and Intergang, these characters primarily exist to be the "standard criminals" for Batman to fight when he's not fighting one of the more colorful rogues. Carmine, specifically, is known for being the head of the Falcone family, and loosely based on Don Vito Corleone. He also might be the illegitimate father of Catwoman both in the comics and, at least, The Batman's continuity. Sal Maroni is also generally known for being the guy who made Harvey Dent Two-Face.

Origin Movie: In theory, that's basically what Batman Begins did, at least for the first half of the movie or so, until he was upstaged by Scarecrow and Ra's al-Ghul. And yeah, if you want a more grounded take on Batman without all the colorful characters, Falcone or Thorne or whoever would probably be the best pick for that. (Also in that theoretical horror movie from the perspective of the bad guys, I'd assume that the main protagonists would be one of these guys and their men).

Sequel Movie: I don't know why you'd start out on one of the more colorful villains and then downgrade to one of these. Seems a little unbalanced. Unless it's just a reversal of what we laid out with Victor Zsasz last time, with the serial killer up front and then the mob boss after. One thought though, is maybe a trilogy building up to Two-Face as the finale villain, then I suppose Sal Maroni could work as the villain here.

Finale Movie: I suppose with him being the big bad mob boss, it's not unreasonable for him to be built towards at the end of a series, something like all the other villains prior working under his gang or something. More or less what Black Mask would do.

Supporting Villain: This is the best place for these characters, I think. Mooks and thugs that Batman would spend his time taking down as the more colorful villains rise to prominence as a third party creating complications.

Overall, here are my rankings of them:

Supporting Villain: It's what these characters are designed for.

Origin Movie: I so want to see that horror film.

Finale Movie: The big bad boss angle has possibilities, but there are better characters for it.

Sequel Movie: It just wouldn't work.

What do you think? Who should I cover next?

[cyarsk52-20]

Verse 5: Kendrick Lamar] I hate y'all, I'd do anything to replace y'all Shout-out to Face Mob A Geto Boy 'til I'm unemployed with a day job And kicking boxes I kick ass and then kick knowledge I'm way more polished than ninety-nine percent of the scholars you thought had graduated I'm the master that masturbated on your favorite emcee Until the industry had wanted me assassinated You either corny or an opportunist I let you eat, now go back to church and steal crackers at communion What are we doing? I'm 'bout to crack the da Vinci Code Yeah, and nothing been the same since they dropped "Control" And tucked a sensitive rapper back in his pajama clothes Haha, joke's on you High-five, {*smack!*}, I'm bulletproof Your shots'll never penetrate Pin a tail on the donkey, boy, you been a fake I got my thumb on hip-hop And my foot in the back of your ass Aftermath get the last laugh I serve niggas like Master Geoffrey, jump on the curb Turn a shotty to a verb if you let me, you know I'm a killer I'm on your head, they know I'm a killer The West Coast Cosa Nostra, under oath 'til it's over You over-owe us So what the fuck? I fuck you niggas up, I fuck you niggas up She suck and fuck, I fuckin' duck you fuck-niggas like when I want You go at us, you going fucking nuts, acting irrational Pop you, then pop an Adderall, know the drill like a lateral, nigga I'm more Pappy Mason than Pastor Mason Pacing back and forth, racing, my thoughts on them racing Daytons I spilled blood on my apron cooking this shit up I feel like some of y'all is hating Quite frankly, your bitch booty should thank me for grabbing it Turn these hoodrats to actresses, what a magic trick Accidents never happen when murder's involved Immaculate tactics, so follow me, if you need me, just call on me I say, "Hold up, wait a minute Your career ain't shit unless you got some Kendrick in it" You pussies ain't shit, ain't no room is left on my dick 'Less you look like Jordin Spark, make my mark on that clitoris, mwah Hollywood's been good to me Lil' hood nigga, used to pawn mom's jewelry Family jewels big as fuck, and I got the balls to say it Balls-deep, balling out 'til Spalding need a replacement I'm outchea, the West in your mouth, chyeah Invest in the vest of Vietnam vets when you out near The white court building, spilling its Merlot Fillin' women, a Virgo pimped the industry 'Member these Stacey Adams and fur-coats Shook, you're scared to death You're scared to look in the mirror when Kendrick is near you— King Kendrick!

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This was 2013. The very first time Kendrick actually dissed Drake. This was the BET Cypher after Drake did an interview with @elliottwilson, telling him that nobody remembers/cares about Kendrick’s control verse. Drake was on top of the world then, dropping his third studio album ‘Nothing was the same’ & Kendrick was the new hot rapper who just released a classic “Good Kid Maad City.’ Little did we know, 11 years later, this beef would still be on, and more direct than ever. Man, I Love HipHop.