#and he never wants to lose what he gains...which makes things difficult as one could imagine

[suranastair]

Kestrel "Kes" de Riva 🐦‍⬛

🟣 Age || 31 🟣 Lineage || Human 🟣 Pronouns || He/Him ~ Transgender 🟣 Identity || Gay 🟣 Class || Mage 🟣 Specialization(s) || Spellblade 🟣 Faction || The Antivan Crows 🟣 Romance || Lucanis 🟣 Besties || Neve & Emmrich 🟣 Frenemies || Davrin

[kooggukk]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 BEYOND THE JOB // JJK

daddy jungkook (literally)

; babysitting the cutest angel on earth is the perfect job. (except when her father is fucking hot and wants all of you)

+ comment if u wnna be added to the taglist

— 1/??

| next part >>

“seriously though, you have to fuckin’ quit that job already.”

Sasha, who happens to be your best friend ever since you started working at the local elementary school, just lectured you again. she was already teaching there when you arrived, you spent your lunch breaks with her and even be each other’s substitute sometimes.

surprisingly, she quit a few months after that. you stayed close though. at first, she was dying to know the drama happening among the teaching staff, but as shit kept going down which included you and the principal, all you ever hear from her is that you need to quit.

it wasn’t a huge surprise to her when you first told her your boss, aka the school’s principal, asked you out. it was weird, but everyone knew he was.. a little desperate. he had asked most of the female teachers out, some who agreed could only say bad things about the experience.

you declined his offer politely, explaining that you don’t want your personal life to mix with your job. it was awkward after that, but turns out he seems to be the dumbest person on earth. he asked you out two weeks after that, again.

still to this day, he keeps asking you out over and over and you keep rejecting him over and over again. sure, he got a lil’ crush on you, sweet, right? fuck no. he’s a pervert, doesn’t know what personal space is.

“but i need the money. i don’t know where else i could get such good salary.” you told her, for the nth time.

“be a stripper,” Sasha casually said, sipping on her diet coke while your eyes widened.

“don’t say nonsense, dafuq..” you both shared a giggle, but you definitely won’t put that job idea on the bottom of your list. maybe in the middle, or top 5. if you really can’t find a good place, then gotta be top 3.

“you could be one until you save enough money, then look for a less crazy one.”

“there’s never enough money, sasha.” you sighed, fuck inflation. when you grew up and finished studying, you realized the hardest part of being an adult was money. it’s crazy how difficult it is to make a living.

“if you don’t give in your quitting notice tomorrow, i’m gonna do it for you instead.” she narrowed her eyes at you.

“i don’t want to make a decision too quick. not until i know i can find another job.”

“quit.”

“no.”

“quit.”

“no.”

“quit.”

…

“okay.”

she squealed in her chair, gaining some attention on the two of you.

“if you dare to lie to me right now, i’m gonna make you eat your own shit.”

you kicked her under the table, sending her a glare. “behave, bitch.”

┈ ⪩⪨   ┈

“oh, __! what brings you here today?” your boss, sehun immediately stood up from his chair, ready to greet you with a hug.

panicking, you reached your hand out with a paper, catching his attention. “this is..?”

“my resignation notice, sir.”

“your what?”

he took the paper from your grip, examining it carefully. his eyebrows fell together, eyes scanning every single word.

he backed up, resting on the edge of his table. he looked at the paper again, rereading the first sentence.

‘Kindly accept this letter as my formal resignation…’

“are you sure, __?” he asked, putting the paper on his table. he crossed his arms, frustration written on his face.

you fixed your hair, giving him a firm nod. “yeah, i’ve been thinking of it for a while now.”

“i’m glad i could be a part of this amazing team, but i just feel like,” you struggled to find the words, obviously you didn’t want to tell in his face.

‘aye bruh, stop bein’ a pervert and you might stop losing your workers’

“look, teaching isn’t my thing. and i feel horrible to find that out so late.”

“well, if your passion for teaching ever comes back, you’re more than welcomed here.”

“thank you,” you smiled, because even though he’s the most annoying person you’ve ever met, your co-workers have always been kind to you.

the children also love you, and you’re extremely thankful for all the support and love you got from everyone.

during the usual lunch break, you co-workers heard the news too. they all wished you the best with a hug, some getting emotional too.

officially, this was your last week working at the school.

when you got home, sasha sent you a link to an advertisement.

‘looking for a nanny’

you laughed, dialing her contact. didn’t take her long to answer, obviously. she’s always on her damn phone, even when working.

“you can’t be serious. a nanny?” you laughed, finding the idea of you with a kid ridiculous.

“have you seen the description? girl, they pay damn well!” she said, followed by her exhaling.

“didn’t you say you’re gonna stop smoking?”

“i stopped. for three hours.”

you shook your head, putting her on speaker as you clicked the advertisement.

“170.000₩?” you blurted out loud, “a day?!” sasha hummed on the other side of the call.

“told ya’..”

“that’s.. nice. woah, yeah, nice.” you mumbled as you continued to read the requirements and some important details about the job.

“give it a try.” sasha said, but your eyes caught a sentence.

“they want someone with experience, as expected.” you let out a long sigh and fell back on your bed.

“you got the experience.”

“me? sasha, i never looked after a kid-“

“you work with kids. first and second graders. and they all fuckin’ love you.”

“that’s different.” you groaned.

“it’s not. a kid is a kid. 3 year olds are just as damn annoying as 7 year olds. prove me wrong..”

you laughed, she was right. they can be a huge pain in the ass, but they have the purest soul.

“true.”

“give it a try, __.” she said again, calling you by your name. oh she’s serious serious.

“yeah, i might call tomorrow then.”

“might? no, you will.” she corrected you and you rolled your eyes.

“sure.”

you called them the next day after considering it for half a day, being the typical embarrassment, you called at the wrong time.

the man was in a hurry, so you both just quickly agree on a time to meet in person. that happened to be the day after.

you looked at the address one more time after you got off the bus, realizing it was more of a wealthy neighborhood. you only had to walk about 5 minutes until you got there, hesitantly but you pressed the bell.

a tall, young man opened the door. his skin is smooth and fair, almost perfect. his hair dark, slightly wavy which was styled in a mullet cut, longer at the back.

his choice in clothes seemed to be rich, a white ribbed polo shirt with short sleeves, causing your eyes to drop to his sleeve tattoo in a second. he paired it with black tailored trousers.

“hey, you must be __?” he asked with uncertainty and you came back to life, smiling to him.

“yeah, i am.”

“great, come in.”

he stepped aside and you walked in, taking off your shoes and jacket.

the house was oddly barely decorated, not a single picture or painting on the walls, very few plants, which you’re sure are fake plants also. the house wasn’t really colorful, most of the furnitures are bright. like beige and cream white.

“would you like a drink? water, tea, soda? maybe coffee?” he suggested as he walked in front of you, leading you to the living room.

“no, thank you.” you politely refused, feeling a little.. off in such a nice home. not something you’re used to.

you sat down on the couch, carefully not to mess the neatly placed pillows behind. god you looked so uncomfortable and awkward.

“i’d like to introduce myself again, in person this time.” he spoke as he sat down on the armchair, next to the couch.

“i’m jeon jungkook, 27. i’m a dentist in the center of seoul. i’m the father of a sweet angel, nabi. she turns 5 in a few weeks, we could say she’s in her, erm,” he struggled to find an appropriate word.

“crazy phase?” you asked with a smile.

“yeah, something like that. she’s been loud lately, that’s all.” he chuckled, resting his arms on his knees.

you nodded and held your small bag tightly, “i’d like to introduce myself better too, then.”

“i’m __, 24 and i currently work at an elementary school. i handed in my resignation letter and this is my last week as a teacher, so i’m searching for a new job currently.”

you paused, hesitant what else to say.

“elementary school? so, you work with kids?”

“yes, first and second grade.”

after a few minutes of getting to know each other more, a little girl, most likely his daughter, walked down the stairs with her sleepy appearance.

“oh!” she stopped the moment she saw you, the tiredness leaving her eyes.

“nabi, c’mere.” jungkook held out his hand, “this is __. what do you say?” he asked her, holding her tiny hands.

“hello.” she greeted you and you smiled, her shyness is adorable.

“hi.”

“__ is here because she would like to look after you.” he said and she looked up to him so fast, you thought her neck would snap.

“daddy, are you leeving me?” she gasped and jungkook chuckled at her words, shaking his head.

“no, but when i’m at work, someone needs to be here and take care of you. how about __, does she seem nice? hm?”

the little girl shrugged, hugging her father’s arm. he sent her back to the bedroom, saying he would be there soon too.

“well, she’s a little shy at first but, i think she’s gonna open up fast.” he smiled and stood up, your eyes widening a bit and you stood up too.

“does that mean, i got the job?”

“see you next monday?” he asked and you almost started jumping, but you held back. instead, you gave him a huge smile and nodded.

“monday then.”

[bunni-v1]

May I ask your advice on something? I want to make a cookie that will be loved by shadow milk and I toss and turn the idea in my head thinking about his loneliness, but his arrogance in assuming most cookies aren’t worthy of his time makes it difficult. It leads me to building the cookie to be bigger and more powerful/elaborate than him so he immediately recognizes it, but that’s unsatisfying for me. I’d like them to be ordinary, clever of course, observant, and quick witted to not only keep up with shadow milk, but to even outpace him at times in a verbal sparring match. But most ordinary cookies don’t really fit the bill. They usually either worship or fear him depending on personality and self awareness. Both are good and what he needs/uses, but you can’t really be friends with a tool. Makes it hard to think of an ordinary cookie that might have caught his attention. I liked your analysis of what getting close to him pre corruption was and he’s a more viable candidate, but even he on some level looks down upon ordinary cookies that know less and don’t live as long. Namuwiki and regular wiki categorize his corruption as both an obsession with his own power as well as loneliness in a truth that broke him. I think the truth that did so or that at least planted the seed of corruption was: that cookies/people don’t care about the truth. He states as much so many times to pure vanilla to weaken his resolve, his dedication to truth. How cookies willingly/happily turn from the bitter truth to embrace a sweet lie. How cookies were more interested in listening to him speak than what he was really saying. It’s a one two punch realizing the cookies around you don’t really care about the thing that makes you you. And if they do it may only be for selfish gain, not for knowledge in itself. And the real rub is the reason they don’t care is often times due to some form of ignorance or stupidity. I mentioned this to a friend irl and she said,”oh he got bullied before he got corrupted. 💯” Which made me think of the cookies before his fall, who maybe took for granted that 1. The font of knowledge even exists and 2.That he would willingly and happily answer their questions truthfully forever and 3. Would never lose his patience. Because how much do you want to bet that the illusion from the sugar free road he taunted pure vanilla with, the woman yelling at him saying “tell us where to seek healing! Tell us how to be healthy to live in wealth and happiness! Use your power! Share your power with us! Do it if you truly care!” Were words from a cookie in shadow milks past? How many refused to seek the truth themselves, wishing no demanding he provide it for them. And criticizing him if/when he either refuses or lies, like bratty children. “Nothing but empty promises. All a lie.” Give them! Cookies who were so ignorant and stupid wanting to take away the thing that makes him him. Because that’s all he is isn’t he? His power his soul jam. Neither he nor anyone else it seems has seen him beyond his abilities. To who he is as a cookie.

Which is just another layer to his isolation, but all of which to say. Maybe the ordinary cookie who just happens to be curious, innovative, and above all patient and kind is his only balm against such words. And maybe that cookie crumbles under the weight of their deceit. Maybe that helps crumble his resolve. After all the main thing hes running from, the big lie he tells himself is that nothing bad ever happens to him. Because how could it? He’s a god, he’s all knowing, but not all powerful. Thoughts?

I think Shadow Milk's fall is the most interesting, because it could quite honestly be either he fell first or last. I'm a bigger fan of the him falling last theory, because it's very interesting to see how he would react to his friends becoming beasts and realizing he too will shortly.

With the new costume's story we can get a better look into him, and he's a lot like PV. Patient, kind, gentle, intelligent, and more than willing to share his knowledge with cookies. With such knowledge, he is very separate from other cookies. He knows and understands things that other cookies could never dream of.

That much knowledge will weigh on your being, even if you are a god. Especially if it's all you're supposed to be, a fount of knowledge for cookies. I think he does enjoy sharing his knowledge and the truths of the world. He cares for his cookies. How could he not? they are innocent and freshly baked, full of fear and confusion. His knowledge is meant to soothe them.

But, cookies fear what they do not understand. When they start asking harder questions, and he gives them the truthful answer, they don't like it. They lash out and deny the truth, and he realizes they would rather live in a lie than bear the truth. The fact that, even if it's unintentional, the very cookies he loves and cherishes are rejecting him... well, it would devastate anyone.

Shadow Milk Cookie became a beast because he was rejected by his people. He became the embodiment of lies to become what they wanted, rejecting the truth to show them the error of their ways. This is what they wanted, right?

I think that's why he needs a partner who challenges him. They can't just accept everything he does as okay. He doesn't want or need someone who just sits there and affirms him like his minions. His partner needs a backbone and a strong moral compass, the confidence to look at him and say, "Absolutely not."

They also need to have the awareness that he is the master of lies. They need to be able to see through his lies and illusions by themselves because he can't hold their hand all the time. He has this deep aching need to be seen, though he doesn't acknowledge those feelings. They have to be able to crack his shell by themselves and show that they care, and only then will he open up to them.

It's certainly not an easy feat for a normal cookie, but if Ginger Brave and co. can do it, I'm sure his partner can also do it. It takes a special cookie to get the master of deceit tripping over himself, after all.

[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 06. conundrum

pairing ꕀ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS. rise of toxic rafe..

WC. 1.9K

TAGLIST. open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous next

conundrum. (noun) an intricate and difficult problem

Rafe Cameron was never one to second-guess himself. At least, that’s what he liked to believe. But this morning, as he sat in his truck just a block from your house, the usual persona he carried felt.. wrong. Last night’s event played on a loop in his head – from the moment he touched your shoulder to the kitchen, and well, to the couch. (And the small talk in your room but he doesn’t want to think about that.)

He hated how much he seemed to want your attention, seemingly deprived of it; your presence was wanted. Needed. But more than that, it wasn’t even in his own control – which pissed him off.

It was your fault.

If you hadn’t been so… you. He wouldn’t have been sitting here, going mental in his truck for the past ten minutes. He pulled out of the spot and drove aimlessly, needing a place to just forget about you, and his confusing emotions. (As if it was going to work.)

While Rafe was in his truck near your block (which you were completely unaware of), you were trying your best to forget everything. Everything from last night was quite haunting and traumatizing, as it resurfaced when you woke up. 

You woke up with a wince from a sharp feeling near your pelvic area. Too rough last night. Sighing, you registered that you had to forget at some point – so you spent the time doing every little thing possible. Hopefully, you could put aside the heavy feeling that had settled in your chest since the moment he left your house last night, but obviously: it didn’t work.

After a few moments of moping here and there, you decided to get ready to go to the cafe again. Partly hoping the serene place could keep you at bay from such loud thoughts, but also hoping that you could run into him again.

Meanwhile, about a good 20 minutes ago, Rafe found himself at the exact cafe before he even realized where he was headed. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room instinctively. Maybe you were there ordering or sitting down and already taking sips.

But obviously you weren't there. (You were busy muttering to yourself about the still-damp floor from last night’s piles of towels.)

The disappointment that followed made him scowl. What was he even doing here? Chasing after someone who he clearly mentioned he didn’t want to go further with? He ended up ordering a drink and sat at one of the corner tables, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he tapped his fingers impatiently against the cup.

Time was passing and his frustration grew. He hated waiting. If anything, people were supposed to wait for him. Not the other way around. He hated feeling like he was on the losing side of whatever game this was. (In your mind, he already lost.)

Heavily disappointed, he left the cafe with his now-cold drink in hand – climbing back into the truck and yelled at himself, punching the steering wheel. (It gained him a few staring eyes, so he yelled at them, too.) However, he didn’t drive away. He sat in his truck, hopeful that you would appear.

And indeed you did.

You arrived about a good five minutes after he had another truck meltdown in the parking lot. You ordered your usual coffee and found a seat by the window. (The one where he sat, but you wouldn’t know that.) The sunlight streaming through the glass was warm, but it did little to thaw the cold knot in your stomach.

You started to realize that you don't mind spending a day without his presence. It was back to silence. Peace. And much needed solitude. (Alas, note that this was a partial lie to yourself.)

But Rafe’s peace was disturbed. He saw you enter the cafe, book in hand and a smile to your face. Oh, that smile. He ignored it. He made it clear that he did not have any interest in you, but seeing you again was making his chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something he didn’t want to name.

Repetitively telling himself to leave, and that he didn’t need to see you, he couldn’t do much except to groan to himself and stay put in his truck.

But then he started getting angrily irritated. Fingers clenching the steering wheel tight, his toxic streak was soaring. Why were you able to be unaffected while he was stuck feeling like this? 

You sat at the place for nearly an hour, flipping through the book you brought with you, but you weren’t really reading it. Your gaze wandered to the door occasionally, a flicker of something you wouldn’t admit to yourself, sparking every time it opened. You wanted to see him. Badly.

Eventually, you checked the time to see that you’d spent almost an hour in here, and left. Deciding a walk might help untangle the thoughts in your head, you walked forward with no particular destination in mind.

In the meantime, Rafe didn’t know why he waited until you were halfway down the block before he started his truck to follow you. His first thought was to get out of the truck and start a conversation with you once he saw you (finally) leave the cafe. But then his pettiness overcame him. So he wanted to see if you noticed him, if you cared enough to turn back.

You didn’t.

He ended up driving slowly and cautiously, his irritation building with every step. What were you even doing? (How you haven’t noticed his loud ass truck following you for the past three minutes, is the more important question.) Wandering around like you didn’t have a care in the world, like you haven’t been knowing that you were completely torturing him through levels of emotional pain? (You didn’t know.)

He almost called out to you but stopped himself. You wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say right now. And he understood you. Not really.

You stopped at the docks near your house again, sitting on one of the benches near a tree. You tilted your head back, letting the cool breeze wash over you with closed eyes. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a life where things were simpler – a life where things would’ve been different. Where you would’ve never met Rafe Cameron.

But the image of him kept creeping in, uninvited and unwelcome. Letting out a dramatic sigh, you kept your head back and eyes closed. You felt at ease, and this is what you wanted.

Rafe was watching you from across the street, openly leaning against his truck. He felt like an idiot (and a creep), just standing there. But he couldn’t really seem to walk away.

He hated how you made him feel last night – raw, exposed, like every part of that you touched felt so fictitious.

Reaching in his pocket to light a cigarette, he didn’t notice how you saw him after you got up from the bench to go back home. He’d forgotten that he was even there, until he looked up and his eyes stayed locked on yours across the street. 

It pissed him off. You weren’t supposed to look this pretty. He hated how you made him feel. He hated you now.

The sharp sound of your voice cut through his thoughts, startling him.

“Rafe?”

His stomach twisted (in delight and resentment).

You were already crossing the street, approaching him and his truck. “What are you doing here?”

Rafe straightened, putting back his lighter and cigarette away, tossing it into the truck from the open window. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You stared at him incredulously, with your arms crossed. “I live near here.”

He snorted, a humorless sound. “Well good for you. But I didn't realize I needed an excuse to be here.”

“You do when you’re lurking in the street, staring at people like a creep,” you snapped. 

“Staring at people?” He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N. I wasn’t looking for you.” (Cue the realization that there was not a single person at the docks this evening, so he looked like a pathetic liar. But you didn’t mention it.)

Your jaw tightened, the personal defiance sparking in your eyes. “Right. So it’s just a coincidence you’re here, watching me?”

“Believe what you want,” he shot back, his voice sharper than he intended with a slight croak to it. “But I wasn’t.”

“I will,” you said, stepping closer. “Because all you’ve ever done is prove me right about you.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by something colder. “Now, careful. I thought we already talked about knowing that you clearly don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to me.”

“I know enough,” you countered, making sure to emphasize how your voice was laced with disdain. “I know you’re too petty and angry to deal with your own mess, so you make it everyone else’s problem. Like last night.”

He took a step forward, closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. “And you’re so perfect, aren’t you?” he hissed. “Always acting like you’re above it all. Well guess what, you’re not.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “At least I don’t waste my time going around trying to intimidate or fuck people into getting everything I want, just like you do.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might snap. “You don’t know a single shit about me,” he growled. “But every single time, you act like you know shit.”

“Well I know enough to stay fucking away from you,” you fired back, voice heavy with restrained anger. You forgot that he was still Rafe Cameron. The infamous, ill-mannered boy in town.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenged, his tone venomous. “If I’m so toxic as you claim, why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You weren’t even sure why you came over to talk to him in the first place. The air felt suffocating again, heavy with unspoken truths and lingering resentment.

Rafe’s gaze softened, just for a millisecond, but it was enough to make your chest tighten. He shook his head, as if trying to clear whatever thought had crossed his mind. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, stepping back.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less cutting.

“And you’re exhausting,” he snapped, climbing into his truck and slamming the door shut.

You stood frozen, watching as he started the engine. The roar of the truck engine echoed, but he didn’t drive off immediately. Instead, he rolled down the window, his expression unreadable.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out?” he said, his voice low but steady. “You don’t even know half of it. Was trying to find you to talk ‘bout last night, but I don’t even want to see your fucking face anymore.”

Before you could respond, he sped off, leaving you standing there with a storm of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Anger, hurt, confusion – the undeniable pull you still felt toward him had dissipated. Leaving you only in disgust.

And as you turned back to walk home, you just couldn’t shake the feeling off.

You had officially gotten under his skin.

And he’d gotten under yours.

NOTE. yn GET UP 😞 someone save her.. anyways. tell me your thoughts!! love reading everyone's comments :') ch7 will have much angst.. be prepared soldiers

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @percysley @wtfdudesblog @fratbrochrisgf @rrosiitas @powpowjinxlife @ltristessedureratoujours

[r0-boat]

I had a thought

How would the kings or nobles (preferably Belial & Jjyu, Eligos, Gamigan, Leraye, and Ppyong) react to an MC who is absolutely CRACKED at claw/crane machines?

Like, just wins every single prize and empties the machines

(Is Ppyong considered a noble? Idk I like that red lumpy looking potato tho)

🦩 anon

Oh absolutely I would consider Ppyong as a noble though I don't know if you want the human version or the lumpy potato So I'm just going to do the lumpy potato and it can be a platonic thing

I will do the nobles you have listed there! Because I feel like the kings and the nobles would be a little too much!!

Anyways without further ado

Whb various react to crane claw master mc

Crane claw machines work differently in hell than in the human world. But even with the less scummy practices of these claw machines It was still relatively difficult to get a prize.

Ppyong

But not to you, who was so used to the limp and rigged claws of the machines back home. The Crane claw machines in hell were practically a cakewalk. The red lump devil stared at you with wide, gleaming eyes as you bagged every toy you wanted with ease. He almost wasn't sure you were human; you were some kind of superhero! He tried to tell everyone about your super human skills, so he did...

Your skills came in great handy one day when he got himself stuck in a crane claw machine. You didn't have to crane claw him out Satan could have just destroyed the entire box...

Belial is okay at the crane claw machine, but he's not that good. He first found your secret skill when the two of you were out and about on one of your special dates when it was just you and him. He signed or wrote that he wanted to win you something. After winning you a plushie of a horned cat, He got a glimpse of your skill when you used one plushie to knock another down, getting two and one.

Belial

His lips parted for a second, trying the process because he knew crane claw machines were hard and even harder on Earth. It was not just an accident. Your moves were calculated.

He beamed when you told him that one was for him and the other was for Jjyu, who sadly couldn't make it because of his anger management class. His eyes lit up when he saw a Candy Crane claw machine. The two of you won every piece of candy from that machine before walking home with your goodies.

Crane claw machines are almost unheard of in Tartaros because the thought of losing money with no gain was nearly appalling. So when Eligos was walking through the streets of Gehhenna with you on the way to Tartaros and Saw that machine, He looked confused; it was a machine he had never seen before. And when you told him what it was and what it did, he was even more confused. Why would anyone want to risk their money for a possibility they won't get anything in return?

Eligos

Even though the fabric of the plushies was cheap, and these plushies in particular were cheaply made, You saw him eyeing a pink bunny. Why not? You put in some of the money that man would sometimes gift you and play. You smiled as you fumbled a bit, pretending not to pick up the watched in all punching his teeth every time you failed, before finally, you picked it up, which he excitedly gasped an excited 'yes!' slipping out of his mouth.

Holding the bunny in his arms Eligos now understands the appeal of these machines.

Gamigin SUCKS at crane claw machines! And there's not a lot of them around in Paradise Lost to test his skills since as the ruler of Paradise Lost, Lucifer thinks they're unnecessary and a waste of money and time. "If you want something that bad, you could just buy it at the store."His adoptive Big brother would say. The Young Dragon thinks that Lucifer doesn't get the thrill of winning a prize that you want so much!

Gamigin

You were on a whole another level. As you easily and quickly one three toys in one claw. He was speechless, Even though you moved so quickly each move you made seemed calculated. And you looked so serious too staring into the glass, calm and focused. Oh please teach him, oh great claw master! Teach him your secrets!

Extremely good at Crane claw machines. He has a good eye and is a lot smarter than what he lets on. So when he's bored he usually goes to an old arcade with games from either Earth or old games in hell when he's bored.

Leraye

He likes your skills and he wants to challenge you to a crane claw battle. Whoever wins the most stuff wins! The winner has to do whatever the person says for a day. And of course you win crane claw machines on Earth were much harder than green car machines in hell and he stood no chance. He is now other than your friend and lover your crane claw rival He shall get better and beat you one day and then shower you with the gifts he had one.

[cultkinkcoven]

Had an interesting conversation with Lord Lucifer last night.

I won’t go too into the details but y’all already know I’ve been having some problems with my mom. Well I ended up cussing her out basically through text lol. I sent her a long letter about everything and made myself extremely clear. I thought it wouldn’t amount to anything, but to my surprise, it actually seems to have gotten through to her. She genuinely apologized for what feels like the first time, and even asked me if I’d consider going to counselling with her, which I agreed to at least try.

I asked Lucifer if he thought I was making the right decision, should I give her another chance? And I was expecting him to say something like “don’t allow yourself to be manipulated again,” but instead he sort of smiled and said he was proud of me.

“It takes a lot of strength to survive after exile, even more to forgive. You have mastered this period of self acceptance, resilience and survival, now I hope to see you master healing.”

and that was nice to hear, it gave me hope that this is something that truly can be overcome with time and effort.

But then, I got this pit in my stomach. Even if my mom and I could somehow find common ground, I am still a Luciferian, I will remain a Luciferian, and she will likely remain a radical christian. And as if he was reading my mind, Lucifer said, “when you have healed you will no longer need me.”

and that stung, because I never wanted to think that my relationship with him hinged on my distance to my mother. I didn’t respond.

“When we met, you had wounds that I sought to help you heal, now you are learning how. I never sought to isolate you, even after the fall, the goal is to rise again, eventually.”

“with you,” I responded, “I rise again, with you, with myself, still the person I was as I fell. Maybe I originally clung to you because I needed something, and you made the wounds less painful. But I also chose you, not to be my healer, to be my God. Your light has shown me a path to redemption, you have helped me heal, but that is not all you have done. You know I will continue to follow you, you know you will always be my Father, whether I am wounded or standing tall.”

and he smiled at that again. “Your mother may have found it within herself to try and find you, my boy. That doesn’t mean she’ll like what she sees at the end of it. Are you really willing to lose her again if things don’t work out, just to continue following me?”

lol. “Lord Lucifer, you taught me how to fall without hurting myself. I will spend my entire life rising and falling, I have spent my entire life leaving and returning to her. So long as I am Shi, and so long as you are Venus, we will forever be tethered to our movements. That’s what I promised you. That’s what you promised me.”

In could feel him confront me, like he was seriously looking down at me. “That’s very difficult, Shi, that’s a very heavy burden to carry. In swearing yourself to me you have guaranteed a life of strife, a constant argument that will never go away, is that what you want?”

“Are you not the constant argument that never goes away? and am I not the child that never knows when to stop talking?”

“Some would say”

“Then this is a strife I am familiar with, it’s an old friend of mine. I don’t fear conflict, what I fear is the erosion of my sense of self, my principles, your principles. Lucifer, I will become the enemy of the world if it means having this.”

and he shrunk down to my level, so we were eye to eye. “and what is this?” he asked.

“Us. you, me, the person I found within myself when I had nothing else. I’m okay with being hated, what I cannot be is misrepresented. I won’t turn into someone else for the sake of someone else, especially not when the Lord I have has always accepted me for who I really am. I just gained this freedom, Lucifer. It is the one thing I can never let go.”

and finally, he smiled again. “Freedom,” he echoed, “yes, that’s it. There are many things I love, education, discovery, temptation… but freedom has always been my truest love. You’ve earned freedom, now you have choice.”

“I choose of my volition to follow the light that loves freedom. Even when I no longer need you, I will always choose you, and I will always choose myself. In doing so I have also chosen love, I have chosen to be strong and give to others what has not been given to me. I will not be cruel or turn away from those who have abandoned me, I am stronger than them. You gave me this strength.”

and he nods. “You can’t get rid of me, bitch,” I added, and he blew up into laughter. “I’m serious. You signed that contract just like I did, you’re stuck with me, Lucifer, forever. You don’t get to be free of me just because my mom is back.”

and another hearty laugh. “It’s a done deal then,” he finally says, “you’re mine forever. I will love you no matter where you are, no matter what you need.”

“I fucking better be.”

As difficult as this whole thing has been, I’m actually… happy? now. I feel like I have actually achieved some peace, not by running away and saying fuck you forever to everyone, but by being real as fuck and doubling down. Had I not sent that message, had I not been the harbinger of conflict yet again, we would still be stuck in limbo. And as satisfying as it would have been to my pride to say “you fucked up, its too late”, I know that in the long run, building and healing will be better for my soul. My internal conflict has evaporated, I know exactly who I am and exactly what I want and need. I have no guilt nor shame, and I have the tools to continue to ascend higher, even if I fall.

I am content.

[globalrebrand]

Grusha Romance Headcanons Pt. 2: During and Post-Accident

Warning: Not sfw, angst. 

A/N: Final part!

During the Accident:

You probably weren’t around when the accident happened, it was during his routine training with his teammates and he suffered a serious fall. His coached called you to come to the hospital and you came as fast as you could. He was likely already in surgery by the time you arrived so it was just sitting and waiting for him to get out with his coach and other concerned teammates. 

He got out of surgery 6 hours later and he already seemed so different. They shaved his head to perform a craniotomy to alleviate swelling in his brain and he had to stay on oxygen. He stayed in coma for weeks and you stayed with him the whole time. He was very confused upon waking. Of course he remembered you and his family but he had no recollection of anything after the incident. 

It was hard for him to accept that he needed so much help. He didn’t want you or any one to help him. He was too prideful. 

After the Accident:

If you both can survive this your relationship can survive anything. 

Getting Grusha to go to therapy was like trying to force a cat into a ice cold bath. He was way to prideful to believe he needed something like that. But seeing you cry and break down saying you didn't know how to help him made him give in.

Prone to self pity so you might need to remind him that you have needs as well because he’s kind of in his head. Therapy helps a lot. And he has you to confide in which makes recovering emotionally a lot easier. 

He was so cold and reserved. And it took a long time for him to come around. He loved you but part of him was ashamed that you’d seen him in such a vulnerable place. Grusha thought you wouldn’t be attracted to him after everything you saw during his recovery.

It was difficult watching his personality change. Grusha was a lot more energetic and playful before, if not kind of immature and arrogant. He gained a lot of maturity during his recovery and became generally more empathetic but also very aloof. 

He still loves you, he just needs help getting back to how things were. Ultimately he comes to realize things will never be how they were, but you’re still here and you still love him which he is eternally grateful for. Losing you and snowboarding would’ve been entirely too much. 

Because of this Grusha feels very loyal toward you  and protective of you. He was jealous before but now its intensified. How dare anyone try to take you from him. And you better not entertain anyone else either. It makes him particularly insecure. 

You help him find new hobbies. You both take up yoga together, still go on hikes and camping trips. 

After the accident he’s more concerned about keeping things private. People come up to him and say weird shit all the time so intimate dates become his preference. 

Now he realizes what he was missing when he was snowboarding all the time. Of course he still loves snowboarding but he could’ve been spending so much more time with you.

You both travel a lot. He’s sitting on a ton of money from his paid out endorsements and he can’t think of a better way to spend it than travelling with you. 

Don’t worry through Grusha save most of it for your future together. He wants to build a beautiful house in the mountains that you can raise your family in. Gym leader money isn’t half bad either. And if you work you both afford a very comfortable existence.  

Becoming a gym leader  was a particularly happy milestone for you both even if Grusha played it cool. It was nice to have a new pursuit that fulfilled him, even if it wasn’t to the same extent as snowboarding. 

The most important thing that Grusha learned through this whole process is that fulfillment needs to be drawn from multiple places so one setback isn’t so devastating. So now he has his job as a gym leader plus you and all of the shared pursuits you’ve cultivated together and the ones his achieved independently. 

Not Sfw:

A much more attentive lover. 

Doesn’t mind taking things slow. Although you can tell that he’s reacclimated to your sex life when things start to get a bit rough again. Not that you mind in the slightest. 

Starts asking how he can make things even better for you. He wasn’t unconcerned with your pleasure before but now he’s worried that if he doesn’ perform you’ll grow dissatisfied and leave him. Please assure him this is not the case. 

Oral game improves dramatically. He now has the patience that he didn’t have before. 

Things are so much more intimate now, warms closer, more affectionate. Less playful then they were before, but more satisfying because of the sheer depth of intimacy. You've both definitely cried at some point during sex after his recovery.

Now he cares about aftercare because he can't push himself the way he used to. But he doesn't mind snuggling and bathing together. He's amazed by how much he loves you, so let him hold you for as long as he wants.

[darl-ingfics]

Cowboys Cry Too (Part 1)

Fandom: BTS

Sickie: Namjoon (fever, exhaustion)

Caregiver(s): BTS

Word Count: 1,599

Notes: Welcome back to my series of fics based off of Kelsea Ballerini songs. This is a series I've created focusing on the leaders of the groups I follow, based on Kelsea's song Cowboys Cry Too. Originally, this series was based on her song homecoming queen? but Cowboys Cry Too is newer and had been stuck in my head, so it got the title. Future parts will focus on moments of weakness from other leaders, breaking down and needing to rely on their members to hold them up. This fic is not based on any particular time BTS was in the United States, but picture them a bit younger. They're an established group, but still in their young young adult years.

Part 2 (Onew) | Part 3 (S.Coups) | Part 4 (Hongjoong) | Part 5 (Suho)

Namjoon needed three things: sleep, a gallon of water, several doses of Tylenol, and sleep. Okay, that was four. But technically it was only three because sleep was on there twice. But Namjoon really, really just wanted to go to bed. 

They’d been in the US for nearly two weeks. Two weeks in which Namjoon had had to stay on top of schedules and keep track of his members, while also keeping track of all of his own belongings, which was a feat on its own. Two weeks of running through airports and catching flights and playing the never-ending game of ‘smile at that camera, run from this one.’ Two weeks of talk shows, interviews, performances, concerts, photo shoots, content filming, sightseeing, and so much more. 

And, most importantly, two weeks of non-stop translating for his six very talkative yet very much not-fluent-in-English members. 

“Joon? Namjoon? Wake up, bud.”

The leader came to much slower than usual, finding it difficult to pry his eyelids open. He blinked once, twice, looking around to gain an understanding of his surroundings. He was… at the airport?

Right.

The memories of the past few hours flooded back in a rush. Last night: the final dinner with the American executives, the terrible traffic on the way back to the hotel, the packing scramble in which everyone seemed to have misplaced something, the directives to ‘go to bed immediately’ to get at least some sleep before their early flight, the frustrating inability to fall asleep. This morning: the alarm going off way too soon, the members in disarray for no reason Namjoon could discern, the traffic on the way to the airport, the mad rush and crush of fans and paparazzi at the airport, the horrendous experience of airport security and customs, the horrible realization that Namjoon himself didn’t know where his passport was (Seokjin had it the whole time, anticipating Namjoon losing it), the trek it took to find their gate. 

Despite the crisp detail of those memories, Namjoon had no memory of falling asleep on this bench, but he felt it was warranted given all he’d been through thus far. 

His (much more rapid than he’d realized) thought train was derailed when a cool presence graced his skin. Namjoon’s eyes closed again, an instantaneous response to the wonderful sensation. What was that?

He heard someone click their tongue. He pulled his eyes open again to see Seokjin standing before him, a hand pressed to the leader’s cheek. With a frown, the older man moved his fingers to Namjoon’s forehead. 

Seokjin hummed again. Namjoon didn’t know what to make of that. 

Before he could decipher it further, Seokjin held out his hands for Namjoon to take. “Come on, we’re boarding. You can sleep again once we’re on the plane.”

Namjoon took Jin’s hands and let the older man do most of the work in pulling him to his feet. He also didn’t resist when Seokjin wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him steady as they walked towards the jet bridge. The rest of the group was waiting there for him, the three youngest seemingly in the middle of an intense debate. 

As the first one to see their leader approaching, Taehyung opened his mouth to drag him into their antics, but paused, noticing Seokjin’s protective hold on the leader. Still, Taehyung’s sudden pause led to both Jimin and Jungkook turning around to address the leader without the privilege of seeing him first. 

“Hyung, Jimin and Taehyung are trying to get me to switch seats so that they can sit together, but then I would be the one alone and I don’t want to be by myself!” Jungkook pleaded at the same time Jimin argued, “Namjoon-ah, Jungkookie isn’t being fair! He promised he’d switch with me yesterday, but now he’s doubling back.”

“Guys, leave Joonie be,” Seokjin chided gently. After a split second of confusion, understanding bloomed on both their faces, Jimin’s eyes growing wide as Jungkook’s lips pursed together. “I’m sure we can figure this out. Have you asked Yoongi or Hoseok to switch?”

Jimin shook his head. “No because they look…” All eyes moved to the duo, who were currently sharing a pair of headphones and giggling over something on Hoseok’s phone. Yoongi was actually giggling, in public, a clear sign of exhaustion. “We didn’t want to break that up.”

Seokjin nodded in understanding, worrying at his bottom lip. He really wanted to be next to Namjoon on this flight, but their options were quickly running thin. This tour had taken a lot out of all of them, and it wasn’t surprising to the eldest that his friends were defaulting to their need for comfort. Of course Yoongi and Hoseok were glued to each other’s sides. Of course Jimin and Taehyung wanted to do the same thing. And Jungkook usually had no problem sitting on his own, actually craved it sometimes, so his desire to be with one of his hyungs now meant something. Usually, Namjoon would be the one to step in and take Kookie’s place, opting for some alone time himself. But Seokjin wouldn’t allow that right now, not when their leader was clearly losing a battle with his immune system. And he also didn’t want Jungkook to be the one to bear the burden of watching over Namjoon in case he took a turn for the worse on the plane. 

As Seokjin’s brain turned at rapid speed, Namjoon lifted his head slightly, checking back into the conversation. “I’ll switch with you, Kook.”

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, his hair flopping side to side. “No, you need to stay with Jin-hyung.” 

“I’m fine…”

“Really, hyung, it’s not a big deal. I’ll switch with you, Kookie,” Jimin offered. Jungkook shook his head again, opened his mouth to protest. “Or how about we trade off every few hours? You, Tae, and I can take turns being alone.” 

“What a beautiful compromise,” Seokjin praised, mostly to himself as the two youngest members lit up at Jimin’s suggestion. The three of them, hand in hand, moved to join Hoseok and Yoongi. Seokjin’s hold on Namjoon tightened. “They’re growing up, alright.”

“No thanks to us,” Namjoon joked. Seokjin’s heart gave a little swoop knowing that Namjoon was still coherent enough to joke with him. 

“I would argue it’s entirely thanks to us.”

“After all those embarrassing things you and Hobi did during those interviews?” Namjoon blew out a breath, shaking his head. He was smiling, but it was the most shallow smile Seokjin had ever seen, clearly just a physical gesture to keep up appearances. 

“I’m so sorry, Joonie.”

“For what?”

“For putting so much pressure on you. This trip couldn’t have been easy.” 

The leader sighed, resting his head against Seokjin’s shoulder. “It’s not you…”

“But it is…”

“But it’s really not. The company could have provided us translators more often. They didn’t, and that’s something we’ll work on in the future…”

“But it’s not just the translating! It’s… it’s how much pressure they put on your to be in charge.”

“Our managers do a lot more than you think, hyung. I promise it’s not just me.”

Seokjin shook his head. “I know that, Joon, but I also know you. And I know that you work more than you have to, and take charge when you don’t need to. And I know that you’ve worked your body to its limit and now I’m going to have to spend the next week nursing your sorry ass back to health.”

“Hey, I’ve got a great ass,” Namjoon joked, looking up at Seokjin through his eyelashes. 

The older man snorted. “And when did I question that?”

Namjoon smiled. “I thought you liked taking care of us.” His voice was teasing, but there was a tenderness there.

“I do, but I hate it when you work yourself down to the point of needing my help.”

The leader shrugged. “Consider it payback for all the times I saved your sorry ass on national television this week.”

Seokjin laughed, pulling Namjoon closer as their manager waved for them to get on the plane. “Now, how dare you come for my ass after I just promised to take such good care of you when we get home?” 

Namjoon did not remember much after that. The flight was completely gone (he had slept the entire time). He didn’t remember going through customs or picking up their luggage (he had technically been awake, but he was rather out of it, so the members had taken turns guiding him). He didn’t remember getting home (he had also slept the whole can ride), or changing his clothes or being put to bed. 

But he woke up in his bed. In his favorite pajamas. 20 hours after returning there. Feeling like death warmed over. 

The first thing he saw, though, was an unfamiliar blanket laid over top of his comforter. It was Taehyung’s, one from his grandmother. And there were three stuffed animals tucked in with Namjoon: Kookie, Hobi, Jiminie. And the curtains were drawn when Namjoon himself constantly forgot to do so. Yoongi. And there was a bottle of Tylenol and a few water bottles placed neatly on his side table, as well as a mug of tea that was likely cold now, but the thought of it’s loving presence was warming enough. Seokjin. 

Namjoon had everything he needed. And, after chugging a whole water bottle and downing some Tylenol, he fell asleep again surrounded in the one thing that fulfilled him above all else: his members’ love. 

[blakeswritingimagines]

Storms

Summary: Having heard the rogue prince was harsh, rough, and unruly which for the most part you just figured was true since he was standoffish and didn't talk much with you. but late one in the privacy of your bed you learn how soft and gentle he really can be.

Word count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Having been trying to become closer to Daemon after marrying him only a few short months ago, you sighed as you went about your business wondering what else could be done even as you had tried asking others for ideas only to hear you should give him time since you both were easing into this relationship. Normally going out of your way to help him with something even if you didn't notice or how you would have certain things he liked already prepped and at the ready for him only to never notice the soft look in his eye toward you once he had caught on to your doings. He wished he had paid more attention to you in the earlier days of your union. You had no duty, you didn't need to win him over for security or your father's land. The effort you put in to gain his affections were out of affection itself. He had been unfair to you in those early days. As he sat by the window watching the ocean pass by, he can't help but feel an irrational sense of guilt and regret.

It had been quite some time since you married, and he felt this tension between you b oth that he just couldn't seem to ease. He felt guilty for not recognizing your attempts at getting him to notice you, and he had been too proud as of late to admit any wrongdoing. But he had to do something. He decided it was time to take control and make some effort to mend your relationship. He called for a servant and asked for some wine and two glasses. He would pour you both a glass, then place the bottle and the second glass on his desk, inviting you to join him. You were pleasantly surprised that Daemon had taken the initiative to repair your relationship. You eagerly joined him for a glass of wine once a servant told you that you were needed, grateful for the opportunity to spend some quality time with your husband. Thinking you both could spend the evening talking and catching up with each other's lives, making up for lost time. You were going to be filled with happiness and laughter that night, feeling a deeper connection to Daemon than when you first met him. You couldn't wait to see what the two of you would accomplish together in the future. You smiled warmly at Daemon's gesture. He seemed to be making an effort to reconnect and try again with you and you were grateful for that. You took a sip of the wine and settled back in your chair. "Is there something you'd like to talk about, my prince?" you asked calmly. "Or did you simply wish to enjoy the evening in one another's company?"

"I simply wished to enjoy the evening with you in my company." Daemon took a sip from his glass of wine before setting it to the side on one of his books. "Our relationship has been difficult these past few months, no?" He asked tentatively "Perhaps it's best that we clear the air now." He had tried to push away these thoughts for so long, and he figured if he didn't do it now then there would never be a time when he would. He didn't want to lose you, or the chance to mend your relationship. He leaned back in his chair, sighing as he felt the wine begin to relax his body and mind. It had been a long day, and he was eager to get to know the person he married on a deeper level. He shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. "A little of both," he said. "But mostly I've just felt that things have been rather tense between us, and I wanted to try to loosen them up a little. I'm glad to see that you're open to spending quality time together." He gave you a slightly flirty wink. You were appreciative that Daemon had addressed the elephant in the room. It was refreshing to hear him be so honest and open about the difficulties in your marriage. You also couldn't help but be touched by the fact that he cared enough about this relationship to want to mend it before something couldn't be fixed. “Yes, it has been difficult,” you said, taking a small sip of wine. “But I am glad that we have this opportunity to spend some time together and try to work through our issues. I truly hope that we can figure out a way to make things better between us.”

"I hope it so too." He could feel the awkwardness in the air between himself and you as if he were some sort of enemy that you had yet to forgive. You had been trying to gain his affections for some time now, and it seemed that he had been throwing away your efforts and taking it for granted. His own pride had blinded him. He decided that he needed to tell you the truth, even if it hurt you. "It is no secret that I have not been fond of our marriage. It was not what I expected." You listened as Daemon opened up to you about the difficulties he had been struggling with. Though you had suspected that he had not been completely happy with your marriage, it still hurt to hear him say it out loud. “I know,” you said, your voice filled with compassion and understanding. “I have been trying to make it work for us, but I understand that it is not easy when you feel so conflicted about our relationship.” You took another sip of your wine, searching for something to say that might make the prince before you feel better.

"I'm sorry…for all of it." Daemon took another long sip from his wine, trying to clear his head. You deserved honesty from him and his heart, not something he had given you for the past couple of months. "I wish I could have been better towards you. I wish I had tried harder to be a better husband." He sighed, leaning in towards you. You could feel his arms wrap around you, and with his lips close to your ear he spoke softly. "And I wish that we could work together to make this marriage into something greater." You felt a sense of relief wash over you as Daemon opened up and expressed his remorse for his actions. You reciprocated his gesture, wrapping your arms around him and speaking with love in your voice. “I am glad that you feel able to be honest with me,” you said. “I know that you have been struggling, and I want you to know I forgive you for taking our marriage for granted. I want us to be happy and to work together to make this marriage the best it can be.” There was a lightness in the air as the couple shared a tender moment together.

He continued to hold you tight and stayed in the moment for quite some time. As each lightning strike cast an effervescent light over the room once a storm outside started, he took each opportunity to gaze upon your beauty that stood out against most even different from his own pale skin tone which excited him. Despite your struggles, his feelings for you had never disappeared even if it took some time to understand. And this night showed him just how much he was willing to change to make things work between you both. As you shared this tender moment he could not help but be filled with joy, and the thought of your marriage turning around was not so far from reality. The storm continued outside, but it was almost as if you were in your own world. The sound of rain, lightning, and wind had been blocked out of the room no matter how much it picked up, and at this moment he could only hear your breathing. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest as he placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, still embracing him with your arms. Your faces were only a few inches from one another, and as he looked into your eyes he was filled with regret and remorse knowing that this could have been a reality you had experienced so much sooner.

You could feel the tension between yourself and Daemon start to melt away. The moment shared was special to you, a chance to connect with him on a deeper level than you had ever managed before. You savored the feeling of his strong arms around you, enjoying the feeling of his warmth and closeness. You felt safe and protected in his embrace, and you were reminded of why you had fallen in love with him in the first place. You started to feel hopeful that this could be the start of something new for you both, the beginning of a happy marriage filled with love and understanding. You felt the same way, wishing that you both could rewind time and make things right from the very beginning of your marriage. But now that the tension had been cleared and you were both on the same page, there was no telling where this romance could go. The couple shared a few more moments of peace together before eventually retiring to bed, hopeful that the next day would bring more sweet moments like the one you had shared this night.

He spent what might have been the best night of his life with you. He could feel the rain pounding against the windows, and he couldn't help but think of all you both had discussed. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and he realized that your marriage didn't have to be just some arrangement. It could be something more than that. He pulled you closer to him as he cuddled close to you, and kissed your forehead before whispering to you. "I love you, and I will never leave you." He held you tight, and he knew at the moment that it was the truth. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you as you thought back on the soft and gentle moments you had barely shared with Daemon but knew that would all change after tonight. You could not remember the last time you had felt such happiness and love, not even in the early days of your marriage. The idea of a lifetime spent with Daemon by your side was a comforting thought, and you could not wait for your relationship to continue blossoming. You held him close as you placed a kiss on his chest, feeling safe and protected in his arms. "I love you now and forever," you whispered back, feeling your heart brim with joy.

[lymooniee]

I've come to another realization--

This scene in particular is so important ahem let me do some sort of analysis:

Firstly, Shadow's desperation to stop Sonic right away by exclaiming they're not real. This right here shows us that he empathizes with Sonic by trying to protect him from getting hurt. He understands these are the closest projections to his reality, so he does what he can to keep Sonic at a calm level instead of letting him spiral. We see this too by the way he guides his hand out to Sonic, but pulls back because Shadow has a difficult time expressing his emotions. I've stated before that I see Shadow as autistic. This, to me, kind of adds to that hc of mine. There's actually a lot of scenes in this episode I could pull to make my point ngl. Anyways, that's off topic a bit, but yeah he has a hard time with placing his empathy into comfort. Yet he still knows the right things to say, I believe this is because he's able to place himself in Sonic's view in some sense.

Shadow gets annoyed by Sonic for being stubborn and once again reiterates how Sonic has much more important things to live for. Like his "real" friends, I think Shadow saying this is so significant because it reminds me of his own backstory. He knows how hard it was to promise to save Maria and end up losing her, so he knows how Sonic would feel if he were to die and not be able to keep his promises or vice versa, where he couldn't save anyone else because of his impulsive decisions. The way Shadow becomes so adamant that Sonic needs to focus on those who are real and truly need saving makes me happy because it once again shows his empathetic side. He may not come out and say "I want to save everyone" but the way he expresses his desire to save those around him and to encourage Sonic in doing so as well, is brilliant. It's why he has in the past saved Rouge and other characters of course too. It's why he does sacrifice himself at the end of Sonic Adventure 2. He isn't heartless, he cares deeply and a character doesn't need to say they're a hero to do hero things either. Shadow can be a hero in his own way, but because of his past and because of him teaming up with EGGMAN. He came to be known on the dark team. You know the funny thing though, is that the dark team weren't even bad, they helped those around them, helped Sonic in many ways, I just believe they have different ambitions hence why they are on a separate team. I've always loved that they never considered them as evil. It makes Shadow such a realistic character in a lot of ways, he wants to save those around him, but he doesn't want to gain praise from it.

The fact that Sonic at first pushes Shadow away, but then pauses in realization. It's so good, the dynamic between them is why I'd love to have a game where they just have to work together and you play as both. It'd be interesting to see them write them as something other than rivals, because tbh, they weren't ever the typical rivals to begin with which I love. I think too it'd be such a refresher from all the poorly written Shadow characterization, it'd do justice for him and Sonic in a lot of ways. I also do hope one day that Sega allows us to play as all the characters again but i digress as I ramble on and on.

To go back on topic, they both wish for the same things but have such different mindsets. Sonic needed Shadow in this, because without Shadow, Sonic would be struggling to keep his head straight.

[yanderelmk]

Question for redson, nezha, azure, wukong and peng and macaque if youd like

1. If we wanted to have children, how would you react?

2. How would you help your darling with period stuff?

3 . If I asked you to make me immortal so we could love each other forever would you?

🏮💜❤️‍🩹

🔥RED SON🔥: Red Son's face went red and his jaw dropped open. "Ch-children?? You want children?! Do you know how difficult those are to raise? But..." He fidgets, pressing the tips of his index fingers together. "Just how many would you wish to have?" "As for the menstrual predicament, I do not fear the monthly blood ritual. It is just simple biology, only smooth-brained peasants fear the shedding of the uterus." "I have already begun thinking of ways to gift it to you. I presume our marriage would not be enough on its own, though it would grant you demonic nobility status...either I will have to break into Heaven or I will have to find one of the ancient Sages to force the secret from them." 🪷NEZHA🪷:

"I would love children, but I would not be able to care for them as much as I would be able to. I am the protective deity of all children, I would rather not run the risk of favoritism towards my own. But...I do admit the idea appeals to me of having children with the one I love."

"Ah, yes, the process in which a mortal reaches developmental maturity. Fear not, I am experienced in dealing with this sort of thing. In advance I prepared many snacks, especially chocolates, and heating devices. All you need to do is rest up." "Immortality is only gained by Heaven's permission. To do otherwise...well...those who become immortal without Heaven's consent face miserable lives as punishment. Chang'e is the kindest example of what happens when greed for immortality overtakes reason. I will do my best to beg for your appointment as an immortal by my side, but it might take some time. I only ask for your patience." ☀️WUKONG☀️:

"Kids? Like...more than one? Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, I take care of my Flower-Fruit Mountain children okay, but I don't know how good I'd do with a one-on-one infant. I'm willing to try, but I think we should prooobably wait until I've taken some parenting classes first." "Oh! Periods! That's the monthly feminine thing, right? Uhh..." Wukong digs around a bit and tosses a blanket on you. "There you go!" Wukong sighs. "Look, I know I might have become immortal a good few times over, but it's really not that easy. Heaven's not gonna let you become an immortal that easily. I'll do what I can, all you have to do is eat the food of Heaven to become immortal, but it's going to be a really rough process. I'll only do it if you're absolutely certain." 🦅PENG🦅:

"I would be overjoyed to raise fledglings with you! How many are you thinking? I believe six is an appropriate number." "Ah, the matters of the femmes. I remember when I had to deal with that...tell you what, you sit here, I will go and procure the necessary supplies. Then I'll snuggle up with you until you fall asleep." "Immortality? That is easily done! Once we achieve our ambition to overtake Heaven, I will make you my Immortal Consort. No weapon, Celestial, Infernal, or Mortal, will be able to strike you down."

🌑MACAQUE🌑:

"Why would you want kids? Don't those make a lot of noise and stuff? I'll compromise: How about we get a puppy or something, start off small?"

"Periods? Um...I don't really know how those...work. What do you need for that, a bandage? I got plenty of those." He sighs. "Look Y/N, I'll be honest with you, immortality's not all it's cracked up to be. Forever is a long time. If you're adamant and absolutely 100% certain, I'll try to do what I can, but you're gonna have to accept that being immortal means living for a really long time. You'll lose your friends and family, everything will change while you never do. It can be a painful existence."

[ravenbloodshot]

Yuzuru Hanyu (Figure Skater)- Mini Personality + Divorce Reading

Personality

I heard the word "fraud." I was already getting vibes that he may be a compulsive liar or the type to manipulate the truth. He may also make himself seem a certain away. The thing is, I'm not picking up a reason for why he lies. So it could be that he finds it easier to lie/passive others than he does being direct and potentially coming off as aggressive to ppl.

I don't know if he has some type of coach/mentor (its likely he does), this prominent person has been someone who's advised and guided Yuzuru through the most difficult aspects of his athletic career. Yuzuru may hold a lot of respect for this person as well. He listens to this person and accepts their guidance. He's someone that receives information really well (idk how to explain this but, I'm a boxing fan and I've been particularly watching Claressa Shields boxing matches, I remember her coach and even her fans saying what made her such a great boxer was her ability to take critique well and actually listen, then follow what was said to her. To give more context to my point, during one of her matches, her coach would yell out things to her like, "Keep your head up, Claressa, make sure to step back some." And she would literally follow the coach's exact words even adding a bit of her own jazz to it.) This is the energy Yuzuru gives me, an athlete that listens well to his coaching. May have something to do with the Japanese social/age hierarchy culture, in which people have to show a deeper respect to those older/more experienced.

He may have a fear of losing his wealth, understandably so, since I believe he has retired and now will have to live off of the money he's made over his athletic career. But this fear of his may cause him to not make smart financial choices. Like, instead of investing his money and trying to go through other avenues of gaining and ultimately maintaining his wealth, he may just start being more frugal. (Idk if he supports his family but I'm getting a vibe of him taking away gifts, for an example if he bought his mom a lavish car, he may have taken it back and gotten a cheaper one).

I feel like he has a weird mentality when it comes to fixing issues. It's like he has a traditional mindset of "This way of handling this issue didn't work, so I'm gonna just go back to doing it the way I used to." I don't think he's very smart, if I'm being honest. He's probably better at doing what he's told than to actually think for himself

Divorce

Well, this is simple. Whomever he married was too insecure and controlling. The type to put a tracker on his phone and still demand that he tells her his location.

Like I alluded above, Yuzuru is more passive and honestly not that smart. So he could have put up with a lot of her demands and shenanigans, may have even thought the behavior was cute during the dating stage until it wasn't.

Yuzuru's fans could have had a part to play in why it ended. Harrassing the couple and just made life hard for both of them, especially her. Not saying Yuzuru can control his fans, but I'm getting a vibe that he didn't exactly try to control them either. He kind of just let shit happen. Even when they were shit talking her online or sending hate her way, he never stepped in.

But overall, he married someone who wanted to be more of a dictator than a partner, someone who was not mentally stable.

La La La by Naughty Boy is a song that fits this reading's energy

[peaches2217]

A Call from the Balcony

AO3 Link!

~~~

“Ah, your highness!” Toadsworth greeted. “You’re in a bit late, aren’t you? No matter! Before you retire to your chambers there’s a few things I wanted to— y-your highness? Your highness!”

His voice quickly faded behind Peach as she passed him, her pace quickening into a brisk walk, then a light jog, then a run. She would apologize later, she decided. Toadsworth was never very far. There would be plenty of time to explain away her actions and listen to whatever it was he intended to yammer on about.

She didn’t have the same luxury at her disposal right now. This mission was time-sensitive. She hiked her skirts up and ran as quickly as her shoes would permit, the heels clacking frantically against the marble floors; she thought for a moment of kicking them off so she could sprint, but she would lose as much time in the act as she would gain from the additional mobility.

And anyway, the next corner she rounded brought her face-to-face with her target destination. She burst through the entrance to her drawing room, stumbled into her bedroom, and threw aside her balcony doors, rushing to the railing and praying she wasn’t too late.

The darkness outside made color difficult to perceive, but she recognized the red-and-blue silhouette crossing the bridge over the castle's moat all the same. A grin split her face from ear to ear.

“Mario!”

He startled, as though her call had pulled him from some deep train of thought, and quickly turned to face her. She swore his eyes lit up at the sight of her, and that filled her with an unprecedented joy, so intense that her head buzzed and warmth blossomed in her chest.

She paused then, fighting back a sudden wave of panic. She hadn’t thought of anything to say.

In truth, they had only parted ways a few minutes earlier. Today had been a rare and wonderful day in which they’d never once left each other’s side. A meeting with a foreign diplomat that morning meant Mario had arrived bright and early to serve as her guard; the uneventful meeting ended just before 1:00 in the afternoon, so she had invited him to share lunch with her before she had to bury herself in administrative paperwork. Mario himself had offered to keep her company and make the tedious task more bearable, and thanks to the constant joking and frequent mental shifts from the topics they were supposed to be focused on, the sun hung low in the sky by the time she finished. She had then offered dinner for his troubles, and he agreed on the condition that they take a short walk afterward — “Nothing worse than being cooped up like that all day,” he’d said, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, and she couldn’t help but agree.

An hour after the sun had gone to bed, she finally and reluctantly bid him farewell, because she had already taken up his entire day and he didn’t seem willing to leave without her permission. Yet she missed him as soon as they parted, and by the time she was inside, she made up her mind that she needed to see him one last time.

Now Mario was staring up at her, clearly expecting a reason for being stopped so soon after being excused, and Peach could think of nothing but Every moment with you never feels like enough.

What would he say to that? Would he laugh? Would he be embarrassed? Would he feel the same way?

“I… forgot to tell you!” she finally said after what felt like an eternity of wracking her mind for excuses. “The main fountain in the garden has sprung a leak. I fear it will face irreparable damage if it isn’t fixed by about 2:30 tomorrow afternoon!”

Another pause, this time as Mario processed her announcement, and she witnessed the exact moment he realized it was actually an invitation — his eyes widened in understanding, and then he gave a single, firm nod. “You can count on me, Princess!” he called back.

Already Peach’s heart felt lighter. What would she invite him to do? She could get up early to bake his favorite coffee cakes and they could share them in her favorite gazebo. Or perhaps she could pack them and a bottle of wine into a wicker basket and escape the castle grounds with him for a few hours. Tomorrow’s weather was supposed to be lovely, perfect for an impromptu picnic. Or they could always just do as they had done tonight, pacing about in the fields behind the castle as they discussed any and every topic that ran through their heads.

She supposed she had a bit of time to choose. It would be rude to keep him waiting in the meantime.

“Forgive me for holding you up,” she called.

“Never!” he called in return. “It’s always a pleasure!”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?” She backed away from the railing, giving him silent permission to break away, and she noted with a pang of amusement that he took a single step back as well, as though mimicking her.

“Of course! Can’t have that fountain breaking down, now, can we?”

She took another experimental step. Mario followed suit. Did he even realize he was doing it?

“Then stay safe going home!” Another step.

“Oh, I think I can manage!” The same step, mirrored.

“Sleep well!”

“May your dreams be sweeter than cannoli cream!”

“And may your night be equally pleasant!”

“Buonanotte, amabile principessa!”

“You too! I think!”

Mario laughed, and considering they were still calling out to one another while Peach’s back was inches from the doorframe, she laughed as well. She never wanted this game of call-and-response to end. But what other choice did they have? Mario pulled his cap from his head and waved with it, one final, wordless farewell, and Peach scrambled for her handkerchief to return the gesture. Like a noblewoman seeing her lover off, she couldn't help but think.

Eventually, Mario turned in the opposite direction, though his actions seemed slow, almost thoughtful, and he kept his eyes on her until his body’s change in position forced his head forward. Like a noblewoman’s lover desperate to drink in her image one last time. The thought made Peach’s throat feel tight.

If only…

She watched in silence as Mario walked out of sight, his cap seemingly forgotten in his right hand. She absently clutched at her handkerchief in her left and sighed. “Goodnight, Mario,” she whispered into the night.

~~~

“Guys don’t just stare at girls until they physically can’t anymore if they don’t feel something for them,” Toadette weighed in half an hour later, brushing the last of a handful of tangles from Peach’s hair. Peach just sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

“Something about my posture must have been amusing to him,” she reasoned. “Or I was simply imagining it. You know how time slows when he leaves.”

Toadette stepped down from her step stool to set the ornate hairbrush on the vanity, and Peach tore her eyes from her own miserable reflection to watch as she fetched a bottle of argan oil, only to disappear behind her again. 

“You of all people have no reason to sell yourself short.” Tiny fingers massaged her scalp as Toadette worked the oil through her hair. She closed her eyes and relaxed at the familiar sensation. “You’re a princess, for crying out loud! You know how many men dream of becoming your suitor? What makes you think Mario’s any different?”

The answer was obvious, Peach felt, but tonight she felt more tempted than ever to think maybe her lady-in-waiting had a point. “Because I’m not just a princess to him,” she said, more to herself than to Toadette. “I’m a cherished friend, a trusted confidant, an equal.” 

“And nothing’s going to convince you otherwise.”

“Nothing short of him saying any differently himself.” When Peach opened her eyes, her reflection looked tired, sad. She couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “It’s a bit cruel, honestly. Knowing one of the reasons I love him so much is one of the very same reasons he could never return those affections.”

Now it was Toadette's turn to sigh.

That night, Peach settled into bed and fell asleep quickly, an overstuffed pillow hugged tightly to her chest. She remained blissfully unaware of the scuffle just outside of her door.

“I’m telling him everything!” Toadette cried, writhing in vain against Toad’s grasp on her wrist.

“Don’t you dare!” Toad pulled with all of his might, managing to drag her a few inches back before she lurched forward again.

“I can’t take it anymore!”

“You think I don’t get an earful of lovesick rambling every day too?!”

“By the stars, if they can’t take a hint, I’ll make them see the light myself!”

“This has to happen organically! On its own! You can’t rush love!”

“I can and I will!”

On the opposite side of the door, Peach dreamed of a warm summer day sharing coffee cakes with the man she loved more than life itself. She smiled in her sleep and hugged her pillow closer.

[haliotropes]

quam amiterre ludum (losing the game) James Moriarty x OC

Chapter Twenty: ludo finitum.

Chapter Nineteen

Finally, Anora gets closure. finishing the game.

Two days later, James's sentencing is postponed due to insufficient evidence. Days after that, due to backroom arguments and political strains, sentencing is postponed indefinitely. James will sit in a prison cell for days, for weeks, months- how long? Will it go on until they forget him, and then is it really justice?

John tells Anora not to worry. Sherlock tells her that he won't let the forgetting happen. She knows there's nothing he can do. There's nothing any of them can do, except try to move on. And while it seems that Sherlock, Irene, and John have made that look easy enough, every day Anora feels as though she's made some grievous error. There's no way she could've been any more prepared for that day in court, nothing more she could have said to make her case, or weaken James's. She told the truth as it is.

Yes, human tragedies and human judgment indeed.

Human error, too.

Because, on a particularly early, freezing morning in early January, Anora bundles up in her coat, scarf, and gloves, and quietly departs from 221b Baker Street. She quickly catches a carriage and makes for Scotland Yard. Surely this will get around to someone, but she's hoping that the early hour will save her some time. 

When she arrives, she asks to speak to Lestrade, which is difficult enough, given his busy schedule and propensity to make things needlessly complicated, but eventually he finds her in the waiting area.

“Miss Leeds. Awful early to be making calls, isn't it?”

They don't shake hands and there's no proprietary greetings. Anora doesn't mind this.

“I need a favor,” she says. Lestrade chuckles. 

“Yes, I see why you and Holmes get on like a house on fire.”

“I've never asked you for anything. We've hardly ever spoken unless there's a battle raging in the background. Could you at least hear me out, please?”

Lestrade’s facetious smile dwindles and he stands with his hands on his hips. Anora takes his silence as an allowance to continue.

“It's a personal favor. I… I feel as though I didn't get closure with him. All I want is a conversation.”

Lestrade studies her.

“I'll have to search you for weapons.”

“I'm tired of him beating death, so I'm not going to embarrass myself by trying again.”

Lestrade likely doesn't miss her inclusion of the word ‘again’, but he allows it to slip by. 

“You're not worried how it'll look?”

“They've made their decision; they're just toiling over it at this point. They've cast their judgment on me- faster than his, I imagine.”

“You think yourself rather important, don't you? Enough to have some sort of reputation.”

Anora sighs and stands. “Yes, Inspector. I do think that because it's true. My actions can have dire consequences and I'm aware of them. Just as you. However, I don't plan on wielding that for personal gain, so let me speak with him or don't. But please, let's not waste each other's mornings.”

Lestrade takes a long moment to think, working his jaw, staring her so uncomfortably in the face that Anora has to fight the urge to look away. But she doesn't. 

“Alright. I'll give you a few minutes. He's due for his walk, anyhow.”

Lestrade begins to walk further into the station, so Anora follows.

“His walk?”

“You and I are both well aware that I am not the ultimate voice when it comes to decisions, and those who are, are particularly partial to bribes. I'll say this for the professor: he spends his money on strange favors.”

Anora thinks to ask him what he means, but realizes that she'll likely soon find out.

He leads her back into the holding cells, which Anora is still vaguely familiar with, given that she had spent an afternoon here with Sherlock. But the cell on the end, the larger one, is not sparse like the others. It's furnished nicely, almost comically so, with a proper cot, a desk and oil lamp, and a small stack of books. At the desk sits James, writing intently. Anora watches him for the brief moment she has while he's in this state. Unaware. Like a predator vulnerable in a zoo, unknowing or uncaring that it's being watched. 

Lestrade finds a guard. “Let him out early. He's got a visitor. Keep an especially close eye on him.”

The guard nods. James finishes his writing, replaces the pen to its font, and blows lightly on the paper to dry the ink, before folding it and placing it carefully within one of the books.

“Professor?” The guard calls. “We're taking you out early. You've got a visitor.”

Anora realizes that Lestrade has been lingering next to her and she wonders why. When James retrieves his coat from a hook and turns to put it on, he sees her. He freezes. For the first time, he's caught off guard. Anora takes small pride in that.

“Well,” he says, finally slipping his other arm into the coat sleeve. “Good morning, dear Anora.”

At this, Lestrade nods and leans in to Anora. 

“Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

He suddenly sounds very serious and as he departs Anora realizes why he had stayed. He wanted to see how James would react, whether he'd be composed or volatile. It isn't a well thought out consideration, since James plays any emotion close to his chest, but it's a consideration nonetheless.

The guard goes to the cell door and unlocks it a bit too casually for Anora's liking, considering the man inside. James approaches her cooly; she's still at the opposite end of the row of cells. However, instead of his trademark smirk to make her feel small, he offers her his arm. 

“Shall we go for a walk, my dear?”

With great caution and a look at the guard, who's keeping a safe distance with an intense gaze, Anora loops her arm around James's and they walk from the holding area to the yard. Snow coats the ground but regardless, birds hop around and settle on the benches. Once they're out in the brittle, grey cold, the guard clears his throat.

“The birdseed, sir,” he says, and hands James a small bag. He accepts it with a grin.

“Yes, thank you Benjamin.”

They begin at a leisurely pace, though there isn't much to see, and Anora keeps her eyes either firmly ahead of her or on the ground. Eventually they come to one of the benches, which James brushes the snow from before they sit. He uncurls the top of the bag and scoops birdseed into his hands, then sprinkles it onto the snowy ground. Surprisingly fast, pigeons and doves flock to their feet to peck at their breakfast. Anora finally finds her words.

“I didn't know you liked birds.”

James looks at her and crinkles his brow.

“I never took you to feed birds?”

All Anora can do is shake her head. James hums in thought before he continues. He offers her the bag. 

“I'm not hungry,” she quips, and it feels so strange coming out of her mouth, like an unexpected knee jerk or a forgotten instinct. James laughs loudly, enough to make her jump, and his breath clouds the air. 

“I've missed that,” he says before rolling the top of the bag to seal it again. He sets it beside him and clasps his hands together. He leans forward to watch the birds, his gaze occasionally flicking up to take in the morning London sky. 

“What do you hear?” He asks. Anora shudders in the cold.

“Nothing. I don't know what their decision will be. I have no means of guessing.”

“What do you hope?”

Anora looks at him and frowns.

“That's not fair.”

His eyes look over her face before returning to the birds.

“No, I suppose it's not. Forgive me.”

As if it were easy.

When James places a hand on her knee, Anora starts and looks over her shoulder at the guard, who has remained stationed at the door.

“Oh, I pay him enough to turn a blind eye, but I have no intention of hurting you.”

That doesn't ease Anora's blanking mind or racing heart. His gloved hand lifts and sits atop where hers are clasped in her lap. He leans in and she forces herself not to be afraid. He looks at their hands as he speaks.

“Do you still love me in spite of it?”

Anora, somehow, isn't shocked by the question. 

“Do you, with me, in turn?”

“Would my answer matter, since I am now the one with considerably less to lose?”

“And I more?”

He nods.

“Well, then would my answer feel genuine, since I have to be calculated? Since I have more to lose? Could you trust me?”

His other hand finds the side of her face and gently turns her head to him. 

“Yes, I could. You always knew how to weigh risks.”

He strokes her cheek with his thumb. Anora allows the cold to sting her eyes.

“We're never going to see each other again,” she says. “Whether they hang you or not. That's a decision I'm making.”

He nods in understanding. She hadn't expected him to fight.

“Alright.”

Anora feels like she has more to say but she can't think of it. In her silence, he carefully leans closer and gently kisses her on the forehead. That's as far as he tries to go and Anora is grateful. For the remainder of their final time together, in the frigid cold with the birds cooing around them, she allows him to hold her hand.

A few days later, they have a small, belated birthday gathering for Sherlock. It's the residents of 221 Baker Street, the Watsons, and Mycroft. Anora has Monty driven over, and after Sherlock blows out on the candles on the cake that Mrs. Hudson had baked, Anora brings him in. Mrs. Hudson gasps, Irene claps in glee, and Sherlock stares. Monty sits in the center of the room, thumping his tail against the floor, and looks around. 

“Hey,” Anora whispers to him, and leads him to Sherlock. “Here's your new caretaker. His name is Sherlock, and he seems strange, but he's actually very kind. Sherlock, this is Monty.”

Monty and Sherlock stare at each other. Lizzie, sitting on John's lap, makes a happy sound once she realizes the fluffy dog.

“Well,” Sherlock extends a hand to Monty. “What do you say, Monty?”

Monty lets out a little “bwoof” and presses his shaggy head into Sherlock's awaiting hand. 

An air of celebration takes over the room and Sherlock ends up sitting on the floor with his new companion. Lizzie gets passed to Anora, who cradles her in her lap. She's a little over a month old now and is watching Monty, lifting her arms but keeping her fists curled. 

Likely noticing the warm scene between Anora and Lizzie, Mycroft smiles and stirs the cup of tea in his hands.

“So, Anora, what comes next for you?”

Anora smiles shyly and allows Lizzie to grab onto her fingers.

“Actually…” She looks to Sherlock, who is too absorbed with who is now his new best friend to notice her hesitation. “Obviously I'm going to finish my degree, but Sherlock, Irene, and I were discussing career plans. We thought we'd collaborate on a new agency.”

“Holmes, Adler, and Leeds: Investigative Agency,” Irene says. “I'm not sold on the name, though.”

John looks at Sherlock in surprise. “How much of a fight did you put up?”

“Fight? It was my idea,” Sherlock says and returns to his chair. Monty wanders to Irene now, who scratches behind his ears affectionately. “What's better than having one person do the boring work? Two people. That means that whenever I want to steal you from Mary, we can run amuck.”

Anora shoots Sherlock a mean look. “No, we agreed that the fun would be shared amongst all, and you will be forced to learn the logistical aspects.” She turns back to John. “Honestly, I don't know how you managed it all alone for years.”

“He's just that fond of me,” Sherlock quips. 

The happy chatter in the room nearly drowns out the sound of the doorbell, but Anora still catches it. Mrs. Hudson begins to stand but Anora waves her away.

“I'll get it,” she says as she hands Lizzie to Mary. Straightening out her skirt, Anora goes downstairs to the front door. When she opens it, a quick burst of cold air makes its way inside, and at the door stands a young courier.

“Afternoon, ma'am,” he says, his cheeks red from the cold. He's young, but more than that, he seems nervous, fidgety.

“Afternoon,” she greets warily. “May I help you?”

The young man thrusts an envelope towards her.

“It's the verdict, ma'am. Detective Holmes requested it be delivered here as soon as it was determined.”

Anora's eyes stick to the envelope and it isn't until the young man moves his hand again that she gets the idea to take it from him. Her fingers move like stone as she holds the paper in her hands. She thanks him, he bows quickly before sprinting away. She closes the door. Sits on the steps.

To 221b Baker Street

Attn: Detective Holmes, Ms. Leeds, Ms. Adler, Doctor Watson, Mycroft Holmes

Anora almost considers herself lucky that it was her who answered the door. If it had been anyone else, maybe they'd have immediately opened it and read its contents. Then, she'd have to hear, have to know. But on the steps, with the featherlight envelope in her hands, Anora only stares at it.

She must be missing for some time, because the stairs creak behind her and she turns to see Sherlock coming around the landing. He looks from her face to the letter in her lap.

“I didn't know you requested to have it sent,” she says quietly. Sherlock leans against the bannister.

“I thought it would be easier if we all heard together, at once. No room for surprise or being blindsided. Have you opened it?”

Anora shakes her head. “No. Honestly, I don't want to. Not right now, at least. It's not going away, so it can wait. Is that alright with you? If we just let ourselves have this time?”

Sherlock lends a hand to help Anora up and she takes it. She extends the letter to him, but he shakes his head.

“You hold onto it. We'll read it later. Yes, I think we can have this time. You're right. It's not going to change.”

Anora nods mutely and slips the letter into the pocket of her skirt. Sherlock puts a hand on her shoulder, hesitates, then pulls her into and embrace. Any pride and inhibitions gone, Anora presses her face to the front of his shirt and locks her arms around him. 

“No matter what happens, we'll live on. We'll be here, together. We'll be safe and life will go on.”

She nods against him. After a few more moments, once she feels calm enough, they pull apart. When they return upstairs, John watches them in curiosity and Irene tries to pry information from Sherlock, who gives her a quick explanation. She stops asking after that.

They'll reckon with it. Whether it's a prison sentence or a hanging, it'll find a way to creep into Anora's veins and her mind and her heart, and it'll hurt, but she also knows that she has a room of friends- of family. Anora begins to recognize that what Irene had said was correct. No matter what happens, she has them. And for the first time since Joseph's death, Anora Leeds finally feels at home.

[queenofzan]

Arevin family background

So changing some of the things about the set-up for Jaz and Sasha to meet necessarily meant changing some things about the backstory I stole from the Vorkosigan Saga. One of the decisions I made early on was that I didn't want Helen (Elena, if you couldn't guess) to be a romantic interest for Sasha at all, and to have her own things going on. I also thought, if Sasha and Helen are several years older and Sasha has gone through the entire Academy before getting drummed out, it really would be silly for Sergeant Arevin to come with them. So he's actually at home, fretting about Baby Girl's First Big Bodyguard Job Solo, safe and sound.

And I mean, since I'm not starting with Delara and Emil's courtship, and Arevin is just like. Taken for granted in the household in order to keep some plot elements equivalent (which simply makes rewriting the civil war bits of The Warrior's Apprentice easier for me, lol) there was no reason I needed to keep some of the more problematic elements of his/Helen's backstory the same.

So rather than the product of rape, Helen is simply adopted. This is not to say Sergeant Yuri Arevin didn't rape people, but he didn't do it without Boris Kasharik pushing him into it and setting it up. (I also think it is just wildly unrealistic that an adult soldier capable of getting pregnant would not be using birth control. Like I guess based on the pregnancy fetish thing they could have removed implants or whatever, but like. Come on. That's harder to cover up.)

Anyway, rather than the product of rape that Arevin feels ~responsible~ for, Helen was simply born at the same brothel Arevin was born at, to a woman Arevin had definitely hired in the past, and who didn't make it through Helen's birth or infancy. The Petrovs were at the time already pregnant, and Arevin was specifically looking for something to help ground him and maybe deal with his trauma a little bit without, like, going to therapy (which on Kavagor at this time would have been...difficult to find). A baby needed adoption from what is essentially his family, and he would have the example of the two people he trusted the most in the world to follow as far as parenting went, and if he had to take care of a child he wouldn't be able to space out and lose time so much. So he adopts Helen without bothering to check if she is biologically related to him, because it's plausible and the brothel can't really afford to have that young a child hanging around.

When Helen is a child, people are like "IDK if she's related to you man she's pretty good-looking and you're. not." but as she hits puberty and becomes A Big Girl it seems more likely she is, in fact, Arevin's daughter. He literally never bothers to check, because he figures she's his daughter either way, and neither does Helen, for the same reason. What's the alternative, finding out she has a biological father who visited a brothel ten months before she was born and almost certainly was not expecting a baby to result from it? What good does that do her? If she was very lucky, this would be a man who wasn't shitty, but like. The odds of just gaining some controlling adult Kavagoran who feels entitled to boss her around are too high.

Arevin is also either less of a traditionalist butthead than Bothari, or Helen is more stubborn than Elena. This is probably helped by the fact that Helen does get Large, so when she's like "yeah I'm gonna be an armsman and bodyguard like my papa" he doesn't go "Aww sweetie, girls don't do that," he goes. Well let's see if you like it.

This is also a practical decision, since by this point she and Sasha are as close as siblings but she is much more physically capable than he is, and having someone his age to ride herd on him that is both willing and able to like. Pick him up and carry him away from bad decisions sounds great. That also leaves Sergeant Arevin more free to do his duties for Emil and the household, rather than babysitting the kids all the time.

So by the time Helen and Sasha meet Jaz on the Stolas, Helen is Sasha's full-time bodyguard and sworn in as a man-at-arms. They had to fight with the tailor to get her official livery, but she has it. They got around how annoyed the Baron was by having her sworn to Sasha directly, so she isn't a House armsman, she's Sasha's personal guard.

Helen does take liberties and talk to Sasha in a manner her father would never address Emil or Delara--or tbh even Sasha, once he's an adult--but she also has a strong handle on Work Mode and being properly formal when it's necessary. Which does sometimes surprise people when they don't know she and Sasha grew up together and they overhear them when they're off-duty, and Helen is like "You little shit, you promised to warn me," because like. Yeah that's her boss and her liege lord but he is also effectively her little brother.

Yuri Arevin is very much still inclined to cling to traditional rules, because they at least provide a framework through which to understand the world, but raising a GNC daughter alongside Obviously Bisexual Sasha (with his co-parents being Openly Bisexual Nobleman and Pansexual Gnillesian Scientist) means that he's less aggressively tightly wound up about some things. He is honestly much more upset that Helen comes home with a deserter boyfriend than that Sasha brought home Jaz, especially since Jaz quickly proves ze can fight and Delara loves zem. Helen has to be like "HEY. I didn't ask you. Fuck off." while Dimitri is like. Trying not to piss his pants.

(Jaz and Sasha both vouching for Dimitri probably helps also. Arevin never really Gets Dimitri, or why Helen likes him, but she has her own hang-ups from growing up a gender non-conforming girl on a very patriarchal planet that Arevin just. Very much does not have.) (Helen is like, I love my non-threatening queer engineer boyfriend who thinks my specific brand of gender is sexy and could never take me in a fight or want to, whereas Yuri Arevin Needs a partner he can trust to defend themselves against him if necessary and could never in a million years date someone who could not at least make him work for it in a sparring match.)

Helen and Yuri both do still fall into the themes I'm evidently working with in the Kavagoran project; Helen has a non-normative body and a non-normative gender presentation, despite being cis and straight-passing enough for Kavagor to pretend, while Yuri has a physically admirable body but a face and background that is undesirable, not to mention his extremely problematic sexual proclivities, both of which have led to some estrangement from his self. Helen, like Sasha, is extremely attractive and desirable...to people not from her home planet. Yuri has only ever been desirable for his usefulness, which unfortunately Emil and Delara don't do a whole lot to correct even though that is a misapprehension on his part, and he's just kind of written himself off as Intrinsically Bad when he's not playing a well-defined role.

Helen did manage to have a much less fraught relationship with her sexuality than her father, so when she can finally believe Dimitri actually likes the things about her that have historically made her undesirable to Kavagoran men, she's like, "Oh hell yes," and doesn't take much further convincing, whereas her father is in his sixties before he starts actually dealing with his shit.

And Helen at first tries to keep her distance from Maria, mostly because like, yeah her papa needs friends and apparently a girlfriend, but Helen doesn't want another entitled Kavagoran older than her trying to force her into a square hole. Maria is also pretty abrasive, but her obvious disinterest in having a maternal relationship with Helen makes it easier for them to get along. By the time Yuri realizes he wants to marry Maria, Helen is ready to take a bullet for her, because actually this crusty bitch of a trans woman has a lot in common with her and really sincerely loves her papa. Helen ends up yelling at the baroness and chasing her out of the fitting room while they're shopping for Maria's wedding dress, because the things this kind of butch older common trans woman needs in a wedding dress are not the kind of things a younger, more femme baroness needs.

I suspect that Maria bitches some times about how bigger tits would get her misgendered less, and Helen is like YOU'D THINK THAT, WOULDN'T YOU but noooo you wear trousers because that way you have fucking pockets and can ride a horse in a pinch and go into low-g environments without flashing everyone and no one even notices your tits, they're like Oh hello sir what can I do for you. And then they're swapping stories about times their goddamn haircuts apparently tricked people about their genders.

[all-the-things-2020]

All Our Future Prospects - Chapter Three

Summary: Ezra and Claire discuss their short term plans for the future.

Rating: PG

“Three more days,” Ezra said as he sank back onto his bunk. These short trips to the cockpit to check in with the transport crew were the highlight of his day. He was not used to such long periods of inactivity and he could feel the restlessness in his bones.

“Which station are they dropping us at?” Claire asked. She had found a tiny reading lamp and was huddled over a notepad with a leaky ballpoint pen.

“Paddington,” he replied. Technically, it was Space Station 4216 but someone long ago had started nicknaming the stations after stops on the ancient London Underground and the monikers stuck. It was a harmless bit of whimsy that Ezra appreciated. Life was rough out in space and a little levity was always needed.

Claire scribbled on her pad, making lists and diagrams. He envied the casual way she held her pen, the efficient movements as she wrote and drew. He was getting passably good with his left hand, but writing was still extremely difficult for him. He’d never had the best handwriting. Always impatient, he’d scrawled his way through life, but now he had to concentrate just to print a few letters and even then it looked more like the unsteady practicing of a small child than a grown man’s work.

She bit the end of the pen as she paused to think. In the glow of the LED light, her face was harshly shadowed but still quite attractive. Ezra pushed down those thoughts. He liked her; that was undoubtedly true. She was pleasant to look at and smart as a whip. She’d been standoffish at first, but was slowly opening up. There was a vulnerability that he could have easily exploited, but there was nothing to gain from seducing her, other than momentary pleasure. And this woman deserved more than a few fumbling nights in a dark, cold capsule hurtling through space. She deserved something that he could never provide: stability.

She liked the ground beneath her feet to be firm, he could sense that. While he’d spent years adjusting to the shifting sands of fate, and managed to keep himself mostly upright, Claire would crumble if she didn’t have something solid to stand on.

Not like Cee. He smiled at the thought of the girl. So strong and stubborn and brilliant was his Cee. He’d never say it to her, but he felt that losing her father had been a good thing. The man had been holding her back, although without him, she would not be as strong and resilient as she was. Cee was a sand-surfer like Ezra was, capable of adjusting to whatever life threw at her, but he wanted her to have something solid, at least for a little while, to give her a chance to find her footing before she set off into the unknown to live her adult life. She deserved the chance to make a life of her own choosing, instead of being at the mercy of the whims of the universe.

Claire looked up. “Sorry, I was just trying to figure out where they might send me, now that this mission has been scuttled,” she said. She had a smudge of ink on her chin and Ezra clenched his fist to fight the urge to reach out and wipe it off. “FlanCorp has an office on Paddington, of course, but no labs or anything. I have nearly four months left in this job rotation, so they could send me to another station or even one of the closer planets, if there’s a team that needs extra help.” She huffed. “I’ll probably get stuck on a desk job or cleaning flasks. I can’t think of anything in this region that would require my skill set.”

She tapped her pen against the paper. “What about you?,” she asked. “Any plans once we reach Paddington?”

He shrugged. “Not really, beyond trying to find some work,” he said. “Since my erstwhile business partner absconded not only with our ship but all my worldly belongings, I’ll be starting from scratch.” As if to emphasize his words, he felt a nasty itch on the back of his neck where a seam from his landing suit was rubbing against his skin. He reached awkwardly to scratch at it.

“Um, I could loan you a bit, to get you started off,” Claire offered hesitantly. “FlanCorp doesn’t pay a whole lot, the bulk of our salary is room and board and credits toward buying out our contracts, but I have a little cash saved.”

“I greatly appreciate your offer, birdie, but I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ve always managed before.”

“Ezra,” she said, leaning forward to briefly lay her hand on his knee. “You saved my life. The least I can do is help you get back on your feet.” She sat back. “I might even be able to convince the corp official to pay you freelance pilot’s pay for getting the capsule off the planet. I’ll just point out the fact that without you, I — and this highly expensive piece of technology — would have been stuck down there. You saved them a huge chunk of money.”

He nodded. That approach might work. “Speak their language,” he said. “It’s worth a shot.” He chuckled. “Never thought I’d be trying to get pay from a corp, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“They’re really not that bad,” Claire said. “At least, FlanCorp isn’t. Like I said, we get a little extra every rotation, after they deduct lodging and food and contract payments, and most people could never afford university without taking on a corporation contract. It’s a trade off, of course, but everything in life is a trade off, right?” She looked at him, her eyes soft in the semi-darkness. “Only the ultra rich get to do what they want. The rest of us have to take the best deal we can find.”

“It is true that my freedom comes with the uncertainty of never knowing if or when I will acquire funds,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall. “I have spent many a night sleeping on the cold, hard ground with nothing to fill my stomach. I’ve taken jobs I am not proud to admit to, some highly illegal and dangerous, others simply embarrassing in their humility. I’ve cleaned lavatories and I’ve ambushed rival prospectors. Neither was my first choice of action, but at the time, I had little choice if I wished to continue existing. There are undoubtedly stains on my soul that will never be lifted, but for the most part my conscience is clear. I have survived. That’s all that matters.”

“So have I,” Claire said. “I belong to the corp, but I’m fed and housed and have work that’s fairly meaningful. That’s enough for me.”

“Is it, birdie?,” he asked. “Is it really?”

She fell silent and Ezra smiled into the darkness.

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

Claire didn’t know what to say. Her instinct was to say “Yes,” but something stopped her. She’d always known that her parents wanted her to score a corp job, a secure place so they could stop worrying about her. And she’d seen enough of the constant fear and anxiety of wondering where the next paycheck would come from, if the food would last until the end of the week, if the rent would go up.

She turned off her reading lamp and tucked it away with the little notebook. It was just busywork anyway, trying to figure out where they’d send her for the rest of her job rotation. The corp would do its calculations and send her where she was most cost effective.

“I’m going to try to get some sleep,” she said. Ezra merely grunted in reply. She burrowed down under her blanket and closed her eyes. She wasn’t tired, but it was either pretend to sleep or keep talking and she’d lost her taste for conversation after Ezra’s question.

When she’d been a kid, still half believing in fairy tales, she’d imagined having a real house all to herself. She would lull herself to sleep planning out all the rooms, choosing furniture and what color the walls would be. There would be a cozy room with a fireplace like the pictures in old books, where she could sit and read. A kitchen, a bedroom with a window that looked out onto a garden, a bathroom with a claw foot tub for soaking in.

When she got older, she realized that no one really lived like that anymore. Space on stations was limited, and most planetside colonies were sealed under domes. Only a handful of planets and moons were safe to walk on without a landing suit, and humans huddled together in crowded housing units for safety. No gardens, except hydroponically grown vegetables; no bathtubs, just tiny shower stalls; no fireplaces, just heating vents that puffed out stale air.

No, a corp job wasn’t enough, would never be enough, but it was all she had.