#and then still said “well we should be careful because they might be spying on us”

[primmsfairytale]

i am once again telling people to read "Regulation of platform market access by the United States and China: Neo-mercantilism in digital services" by Milton L. Mueller & Karim Farhat (2022)

Hello usamerican tumblr liberal. Why is it scarier when a Chinese company has your data? What is the Chinese government going to do with your data if you don't live there? Tell me what the fuck are they gonna do? Why are you more scared of a foreign government that has no power over you than your own government that does and you know for a fact they will will do something about it. Facebook snitching to the cops on you if you get an abortion and then getting you thrown in jail for murder is a thing that has literally happened in the US. Why is that less scary than when Chinese companies collect your data?

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 4

chapter 3 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 5

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader.

a/n: hiya! i already mentioned all of this in my snippet post, but i'll do so again. in this chapter we are going down some dark path. probably not wise considering how shit has been going down as of late in the pedro pascal fandom. i have tried to write this chapter as sensibly as i could given the circumstances reader is in. i know this is a sensitive topic so please, PLEASE, read the warnings before you go ahead. i promise i'll make it up to you guys in the next chapter. other than that, i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! i love engaging with you guys. take care of yourselves <3

warnings: MDNI, 18+. please proceed with caution. if any of the following warnings trigger you, skip this chapter. DARK THEME. r4pe threats (it doesn’t happen, but still). death threats. mention of voyeurism. unsolicited dirty talk. slapping. reader is humiliated. derogatory terms (bitch, whore). swear words. masturbation (m to himself). body shaming (well deserved though). blood. violence. gore bc joel loses his shit. murder (but it’s okay because i say so). soft!caring!joel. pet name (dove). reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel's and reader's pov.

w/c: ~2.3k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

Joel groaned, face down on the ground. His head hurt like hell, to the point where he could not even open his eyes. A drilling pain on the back of his skull pierced through the whole way to the space between his eyebrows. He squeezed his eyes, in an attempt to clear his sight, before opening them. The whole world spun around him like a merry-go-round ― he felt like throwing up.

He motioned his hand backwards to where the searing pain was coming from, only to find a new source of aching ― his right shoulder felt like it was dislocated, but the reality was that he had been shot.

I have been shot, he repeated in his mind.

Why though? He couldn’t remember what had happened nor where he was.

“Joel! What the fuck is going on?!”, Tommy’s voice forced him to close his eyes again. He kneeled beside Joel, putting pressure on his shoulder. “Where is she?”

Where is who? he wanted to reply.

And then it hit him. You both gave in to your passion, and he ruined it by labelling it “a mistake”. And then hell broke loose ― his last memory was your screams before you were dragged away.

Consciousness flooded back into him. Joel sat up quickly ― too quickly as his head pulsed in excruciating pain.

“Easy, Joel”, said the younger Miller, removing his hand to inspect the wound and tying a piece of clothing around the shoulder to contain the bleeding. “The bullet has gone through cleanly. You’re going to need to take care of that wound but should heal just fine”.

“They’ve taken her, Tommy”, Joel managed to mutter.

Doom washed over him. He felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what your destiny might be. He should have paid attention; he should have known you both were being watched. But at that moment in time he was thinking with his cock, not with his brain. He put you in harm’s way. He knew he shouldn’t have exposed you like that. He would not have done it had he known someone was spying on you both.

His last words to you basically meant that you were a mistake he regretted. His heart contracted so hard at the realisation of what he had said, his lungs evacuated all air within them. Where those going to really be his last words to you?

Joel gulped down the knot in his throat. He truly was a damned man. Everyone he touched, died. His deceased wife, Sarah, now potentially you too.

Death might be her best way out, that intrusive thought scared the shit out of him. He shook his head at the idea, in denial.

“Who have?”, Tommy asked. Joel could hear fear in his brother’s voice, mirroring his own.

Joel stood up with the help of Tommy and touched the back of his skull, finding the sore spot. It was wet ― blood covered the palm of his hand, which he cleaned on his jeans.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. If something happens to her, I swear to fucking God, Tommy, I will―”.

Tommy nodded in understanding and handed Joel the rifle and his jacket.

You were finding very hard to come back to consciousness. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, not being able to connect them in a way that made sense. You felt like you had been sleeping for ages, but it had only been five minutes. Your heart was beating slowly on your chest, your breaths shallow.

You heard two male voices nearby. For a second, you thought they were Joel and Tommy. But even in your semi-conscious state, you knew it wasn’t them. You managed to open one eye, looking around. Memories started to crawl back ― you and Joel fucking like the world was ending, him being a prick once again, then the gunshot, Joel falling to the ground, two men approaching and taking you away. Your heart began to race.

Was he alive? He had to be. He couldn’t have died. You would know, you would feel it in your guts. You felt like your chest was being crushed. No, he can’t be.

“God, I am gonna come”, you spotted the first man you saw, the one who shot Joel, jerking off besides you.

Had you been fully conscious, you would have retched when he cleaned the cum off his hand on your T-shirt.

“She was fucking that guy like a whore, she won’t mind if we use her for a bit”, said the second man. “I bet her cunt is still fucking wet. But we should wait for the others to get here first”.

You were slowly coming back to your senses, starting to understand the gravity of your situation. By the way they talked, it was pretty clear what their plans for you were. The prospect of being raped awakened your fight-or-flight instinct, your brain racing with thoughts, trying to come up with an escape plan. Either you fled, or you died trying.

You were sat up, your back against a tree, your hands loosely tied up in front of you. You rubbed one hand against the other, the right one slowly coming off the knot.

“I want to fuck her mouth so bad ― I don’t think that lucky bastard did”, you were not sure who said it, but you didn’t care.

“With such a small dick, I bet you I still would have plenty of room in my mouth to be able to talk unbothered”, you couldn’t stop the snarky remark.

The first man didn’t take your comment very graciously, probably ashamed of such a small dick. He slapped you with such force, the ring on his finger slashed the skin on your right cheek. You fell to the ground on your belly, your hands becoming free in the process, which you hid under your body so that monkey of a man wouldn’t notice.

“We’ll see how much you laugh after we’re finished with you and leave your broken body somewhere for your boyfriend to see”, he threatened with a laugh, touching himself again. "Open up, bitch".

He grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to face him, his ridiculously tiny dick too close to your mouth. You pulled away from him with all your might, releasing yourself from his grasp.

Although you put on a mask and pretended this was not affecting you, you were so fucking frightened. Your survival instinct kicked in again when the same ape tried to snatch you by the T-shirt as you slithered away, partially ripping it. You turned around quickly and scratched his face ― your nails sinking in his skin as deep as you could. You thought you hit his eye ― and you wished him blind. You growled like a cornered animal when the second man approached you, while the first one was on his knees wailing like a newborn baby.

“So you’re a fighter, huh?”, he chuckled.

When he got close, you knocked him off his feet by swinging one of your legs sideways under him. That was your chance ― and you took it. You got up and started running, the second man shouting blasphemies while going after you.

You had only run like five yards when a gunshot echoed in the middle of the night. You ducked and tripped, falling to the ground.

You looked back and saw that guy face down on the dirt, not moving. The back of his head was blown to pieces, half of it had disintegrated into thin air. Blood and brain bits had started to soak the leaves under him.

Then you saw Joel a few feet back, rifle on hand, Tommy just a few metres behind him.

You sighed with relief.

Joel had one look at the state of you and wished he hadn’t shot that man. He should have suffered a more terrible death. He felt anger ―no, fury― burning up his insides. Joel was seeing red, not being able to tame his feelings back under control. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins with solace ―you were alive― but also with rage.

“Man, we’re sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not what it looks like, I had nothing to do with this”, begged the man who had shot him ten minutes earlier.

Joel slowly turned around to face him. The asshole was on his knees, his left eye bleeding profusely, trousers pulled down and his micropenis dangling out of his underwear. With his eyes fixated on the poor excuse of a man praying on the ground, Joel handed the rifle to Tommy and unsheathed the folding hunting knife he kept in his boot.

“No, please, I promise you I didn’t touch her, I would never―”, his pleading fell on deaf ears.

“You fucking liar”, Joel said under his breath, positioning himself behind the kneeled man.

Joel grabbed him by his hair, pulling his head backwards to expose his neck. He could see tears on the edges of his eyes. He was young, probably around twenty, but Joel didn’t give a fuck. He deserved to die. Joel unfolded the hunting knife by removing the safeguard, placed it under his chin and slit his throat slowly but steadily. The man gagged, desperately trying to fill his lungs with oxygen ― his hands had flown to his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but blood was pouring out like a fountain.

Joel looked at him dead in the eye until the man’s arms fell to his sides. When he was sure that motherfucker was dead, he let go of the head, the body making a thudding sound when it hit the floor.

Only then he dared to look in your direction. He wasn’t ready to see you down on your knees, dry tears on your cheeks. You looked like a baby deer in the middle of the road at night, blinded by the headlights. One side of your T-shirt was ripped from top to bottom, one of your breasts showing. You were not moving, your big eyes widened in shock.

Joel did not want to imagine what had happened to you, but he saw semen on your T-shirt and his brain started wandering off to the darkest of places. He was frozen in place for a few seconds before finally approaching you slowly, afraid you were going to step back away from him. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. He put away the knife before kneeling in front of you ― his hands, palms down, up in the air.

“Are you…?”, he didn’t finish the question because it was obvious you were not okay.

“It’s okay”, you answered immediately.

Joel gave you a puzzled look.

“No, it’s not fucking okay”, he whispered.

Then reality dawned on you. Your body had been on high alert this whole time, your instincts forcing you to put your feelings away so you could focus on the task at hand ― escaping as unscathed as possible. It wasn’t until those men were dead and Joel faced you, that you allowed emotions to take over you.

Your eyes welled up, your entire body shaking as the adrenaline abandoned your system.

“I… I don’t… It’s just…”, you couldn’t form coherent sentences.

Joel closed the distance between you two and hugged you. You buried your face in his chest and sobbed silently for minutes on end. His left hand stroked your hair as he held you and whispered calming words in your ear. When your eyes dried up, you looked up at him through damp eyelashes and he swept away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, the rest of his fingers gently placed on your jawline.

“Your cheek”, Joel’s lips wrinkled as he hovered his thumb over the wound.

You could tell he was trying to control himself, but as the seconds went on, he got calmer.

“Can I?”, he muttered, looking down to your teared T-shirt.

You nodded and he helped you take it off. Joel blocked Tommy’s vision with his broad body while he removed his jacket and helped you put it on, discarding your dirty T-shirt to one side.

“They didn’t…”, you tried to explain, your bottom lip trembling.

“We don’t need to talk about it now, only when you’re ready ― if you’re ever ready”, he spoke softly.

You greatly appreciated he didn’t push you for an explanation of what had happened. You were not sure you could talk about it without breaking down again. You breathed in deeply and nodded again. Then you noticed the blood on his shoulder. You raised one hand, softly touching the improvised dressing.

“You’re hurt, Joel”, you mumbled.

“It’s nothing, it’s not even painful. Let’s go back to the cave. You need to rest and I need to clean that wound on your cheek before it gets infected”, said Joel while helping you up.

You saw Tommy in the distance ― he had been kind enough to give you some privacy. Joel guided you through the trees, his left arm firmly wrapped around your waist to aid you in your walking.

You didn’t get too far though, not even with his help. Your legs were so wobbly you were afraid you couldn’t stand any longer. Joel saw you struggling and with no hesitation whatsoever, he picked you up in his arms to carry you to the cave.

"You're gonna hurt your shoulder even more, Joel", you complained.

"Nonsense", he whispered, softly kissing your forehead.

You did not protest after that again and hugged his neck, your face hiding in the curve of his neck.

In his arms, you felt safe. Your haven on this twisted, revolting earth.

“One of the men said they were waiting on more people to arrive”, you remembered suddenly.

Joel briefly looked down at you. You could tell he was controlling his face expression.

“Don’t worry about it, dove. I’ll take care of each one of them”.

That was a promise he kept religiously.

[misspelledwordswizard]

I'm gonna be annoying and ask for more Sky fluff. Can he be taking care of the reader during her period and she has terrible cramps? (That's me, I'm the reader.)

I was suffering from this pain while I was writing, so the feeling was totally true. I need to speed up the requests, Tumblr is starting to disappear with the oldest ones, I almost had a heart attack thinking I had lost this one

I was lying in my sleeping bag, whimpering softly so that no one could hear my monthly suffering. Of all the days this could have happened, this was a bad day. 

It wasn’t even completely dark yet, it had been a little over an hour since we set up camp, and this day had been particularly hellish for me. After a whole day of walking and dealing with cramping pains, we were finally able to stop and rest for the rest of the day, only for me to realize that my nightmare in red had arrived early. 

I ran to wash myself in the nearby lake, probably confusing everyone, but after having my moment of privacy I was able to deal with this initial problem. But unfortunately for me, the cold shower only aggravated my cramps. Hell. 

Now I was here, isolated, in my sleeping bag, while all the boys gathered around the campfire. I wish I was there with them, but I fear that if I moved from this position the pain would get worse.  And to make matters worse, I’m feeling sooo lonely, so needy and sentimental, still feeling the effects of the excessive amount of hormones my body produces at this time of the month.  

From the distance I was from the boys, I could barely hear them, only their laughter or the sounds of conversation that I couldn’t understand, and I also couldn’t see them clearly. I’ve been looking for my boyfriend among them for some time, hoping that he’ll see me from afar and magically understand my pleas for help. Knowing Sky, he would need less than a glance to understand the message, the problem is that I simply can’t find him in the middle of the group.  

This has been bothering me for some time now. Even though I can’t see very well from where I am, it’s strange to have him out of sight for so long, and even stranger that I’m out of sight of him. Where could he be?  

 This question of mine was answered soon after, when I felt the presence of the blond hero approaching me, spying, I saw him approaching carrying several things, careful not to drop anything. He knelt down beside me, leaving the things on the floor, sighing in relief that he had finally succeeded. 

— Sorry for the delay, my feather. I ended up having a bit of trouble finding everything. 

Link said, apologizing unnecessarily, as he showed me everything he had managed to get: Chocolate stolen from the Champion, a hot water bottle suitable for this purpose, fresh water for when I get thirsty, another blanket, large and heavy, and he had managed to get a type of colic potion made by Rulie, which would help ease my pain. 

My hero. I should have guessed, it’s Sky, after all. He always knows when I need something and is ready to help, my perfect boyfriend. I had to hold back the tears of emotion so as not to scare him, but I couldn’t resist the urge to hug him, even though it might not have been the best idea, considering the increase in pain I felt because of it. 

— You’re the best, thank you so much, dear. 

I was finally able to enjoy the rest of the night, comfortably, in the arms of my beloved, receiving unconditional affection and drowning myself in chocolate and water. 

[kydrogendragon]

Dreamling fic idea I'll probably never get around to:

Dream is the highest ranking cleric in the city. His gifts are sought after by all and the cost of his services reflect it. He has treated and healed everything from Kings to Demi-Gods. But he is tired of his position. Those he cares for and treats are grateful, yes, but his services are almost expected. And the one time he fails because the bishop was too far gone, even for Dream's skills, he was berated for his failure. Whispers echoed through the kingdom that the High Cleric Dream was losing his touch, that the gods that favored him so are losing interest.

Dream begins to think that maybe they are right. Then he meets Hob - a necromancer that works out in the battlefields, mostly. Someone who he would normally never cross paths with until he does. His sister had advised him that a change of scenery could be good for him and his soul. To recharge and rest a moment and reconnect with his divine gifts.

Hob is helping carry in the wounded and sick from the most recent skirmish in the outerlands. Dream hovers, watching as this captivating handsome man, covered head to toe in grime and blood and dirt, gently guides his fellow soldiers towards the healers bay. And then he walks towards the bodies of those that had not made it.

Hob kneels by the dead, and Dream watches with curiosity. Necromancy was not viewed highly. Most necromancer positions were ones of war, raising the dead so that they might keep fighting. Dream wonders what possible reason this one might have for raising them here in the city. He freezes, thinking perhaps Hob was a traitor or spy and is planning to unleash an attack.

But no. No, as the young man's body beside him jolts to life, a wheezing, gasping noise releases from the cold dead lips. And Hob just smiles. He grabs the corpse's hands, giving it a gentle pat, and says, "Easy there. It's okay. The pain is gone, yeah?"

The corpse just nods.

"Good. Good," the Necromancer says. "You asked me, said if you died on the field-"

"That you'd bring me back, I remember." The corpse speaks, his voice rough. The sight is unsettling to Dream.

"That's right," the Necromancer says, smiling still. His voice is warm and low. Dream strains to hear it from his hiding spot. "What did you want me to say and to who?"

Dream furrows his brows in confusion. What odd game is this man playing at?

"Tell my parents... that I loved them. That I'm glad I got to serve my kingdom as I had. I... I did, right? I did good?" Dream's heart clenched at the quivering in the young soldier's voice. They remembered. They preserved their memories and thoughts and feelings. But...

Dream shook his head. No, corpses brought to life by necromancy are just reanimated. There should be no soul left within them. That is what every teaching has said before. The only exception being a corpse that is reanimated within mere minutes if dying. But this soldier died on the battlefield. He died days ago, at the least. So how?

"You fought so well," the Necromancer says. Dream sees tears fall from those warm brown eyes. "You saved many lives out there. You served king and country well."

"Good," the soldier says with a sad laugh. "Good... then. Then tell them that as well, please? And... and if you can find my brother, his name is Calrose, tell him I'm sorry for all the shit I gave him when we were young. And tell him that he was right about the ale. He'll know what I mean."

Dream feels he ought to turn away from such a seemingly private moment but he finds he cannot. He's transfixed on the sight.

"And tell my girl, sweet Alice, tell her I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise after all. Tell her I tried and that I-" And the young corpse bursts into tears. Or sounds like it, at least. There are no tears to be shed but the pained wail that is drawn forth from his throat couldn't be mistaken for anything else. The Necromancer leans toward and holds the young boy in his arms, ignorant of the rotting flesh and stale blood.

"I'll tell her. I'll tell them all. Don't you worry," the Necromancer whispers against the man's skull. There is a large gap in his head, Dream realizes now. His skull looks to have been smashed by something strong and heavy. It is most likely how he died. "You can rest easy now, lad. Be at peace. You've earned it."

And as the Necromancer lays the young man back down, Dream watches as the boy takes a final, shuttering breath in and sees the light in his eyes fade as the air is released. He is still once more but with the barest of smiles on his lips.

Dream is dumbfounded by this. By all of this. Everything he feels he knows has been turned upside down by a single man. So he follows him. He watches his movements through the city and witnesses many times his strange version of necromancy. He also witnesses the joy and sadness that it brings to the loved ones he tells each corpses last words to.

It's in a tavern, down by the ports, that Dream officially approaches the Necromancer. Hob, of course, picked up on his newest shadow that first day. It wasn't until just recently that he realized who it was that had been tailing him. And he's petrified. Hob well knows that necromancy within the walls of the kingdom is forbidden unless authorized. He thinks Dream is there to arrest him.

But no. Dream just wants to talk. And he doesn't ever mention his position as High Cleric either. And guessing by the black hooded cloak he wears, Hob is guessing Dream doesn't think he knows who he is either.

So they meet more often. Hob tells Dream of his life, of his experiences. He tells him of his experiences with Necromancy, specifically, and how he's found that more clings to a corpse than you might think. Especially if they had things they still wished to say.

Then one day the kingdom is attacked. The forces manage to breach the outer walls. Dream is darting all around, healing as best as he can, trying to help bolster their offenses. He sees Hob in the chaos of it all, rising corpses to help the fight. It is the first time he has seen this type of magic used in battle. It is the first time he sees Hob wield his skills for a fight.

Then Hob is shot at, an arrow sticks out of his chest and blood is running down his chin as it floods his lungs. The corpses he commanded fall to the ground as his focus breaks. Dream runs to him, ignorant of the continued onslaught. He holds Hob's hand as he calls forth every ounce of his drained power to breathe life back into damaged cells. But the arrow was poisoned. Death magic clings to the arrowhead and infects Hob's body from the inside out. He removes the arrow and allows his magic to flow inside, coating Hob is a warm, white light. He is healing, but it is slow. And with Dream drained as he is, he cannot overwhelm the opposing magic as he might normally. Still, he continues. And he is winning, slowly.

And then more arrows strike the pair. Dream covers Hob's body with his own but the thick cloak he wears only protects him so much. The garb he wears marks him as a Cleric and he has heard enough stories and read enough tales to know that picking off the healers early on is a prime battle stategy.

Hob tries to push him off, to cover him instead, but Dream holds him down, even as the venom embued in each strike weighs him down, Dream continues. Hob begs him to stop. That he'll kill himself if he keeps this up. And Dream knows that he is correct. He will die. But, he finds, as he summons forth the last reserve of his strength, he does not mind dying if it means Hob gets to live.

Besides, there are still words he would say to Hob. He will see him one last time before he goes for good after all.

He pushes all that is left of him into Hob and the death magic fades away. There is only light and love left in his cells. No more poison. Hob is safe.

Dream collapses. Hob scrambles up and drags them both out of the line of fire. Most of the enemy soldiers have left, continuing up through the kingdom. There is a clashing of steel and iron and the sound of magic being flung in the distance. But all Hob can see is Dream. His face lax in his lap. It makes him want to laugh and cry all at the same time because the first time Hob gets to see that beautiful face this calm is when he's dead...

Hob pulls the arrows from his body, discarding them in a pile and pulls the man's body close to his chest. He wishes, not for the first time in his life, that his gifts were of healing instead. Hob bows his head and kisses the soft skin of Dream's forehead and he whispers the words he has heard Dream speak before. Healing words. Hob feels a strange tingle within him. It responds differently than the magic he is used to. And then it is gone.

Hob frowns. And, going off of instinct, he speaks the words that he knows like breathing. His normal powers flood through him but they are also different. It twirls within him, mixing with some sort of foreign piece. But he continues, calling forth for Dream's spirit in the Ether and guides it back to his body. A soul cannot be reattached once the link between is broken. But it can reside there for a time. This is what Hob has learned over his years of study.

And today he is proven wrong. He watches as the chain that links them heals. It glows in a brilliant white light as Dream's soul is guided by golden hands that he knows are his own magic.

Hob looks down.

Dream's eyes open. And he smiles.

The best they can figure, once the kingdom is secured and the people and healed and tended to, is that Dream's own magic stuck with Hob and allowed him to perform both Cleric and Necromatic Magic simultaneously, effectively bringing Dream back from the dead.

It is something that needs further research and is happily agreed and funded by the Crown. Hob is promoted and works side by side with Dream now as they continue their research. They still go down to the healing bays on the weekend. Dream assists with the wounded and Hob still gathers the dead's last words. Life is good. Better than is has been. And Dream finally feels like he's rediscovered his sense of purpose. And Hob? Well, Hob's finally found what he thought he's never get: Love.

[theobsessedcookiefan]

I promised lol

:ﾟ･*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Part three. Investigation of a cookie.

"But that's not right!" One of the little ones was genuinely horrified by the story. "Yes! Aren't witches supposed to protect us?" Another asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes yes, that's what I'm getting at, now hush and pay attention." The old cookie said, continuing the story.

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

"O-Oh." Y/N muttered, taking a few steps back as she thought about what her teacher had told her. "Well.. I.. I have to study! Yeah, that, lots of homework and practice to achieve the love potion.... Good night." And with that the younger witch hurried out, heading up the stairs to her room.

Once inside she locked the door and left Blueberry Milk on the table, waiting for some sort of word from him while she made sure no one was spying on them. "Uh.. Are you okay?" He asked her with some concern, after all hearing that one of your creators didn't appreciate you and would eliminate you without a thought was.. Uh.. Discouraging to say the least, but he wouldn't let that happen so easily, he was going to protect his friends and himself from that fate, no matter the cost. "Ah! Yeah, I'm fine, I was just surprised that's all." Blueberry Milk said with a wave of his hand, downplaying the matter; he knew very well how to hide his true feelings for the sake of himself and others. "Are you sure?.. That's not very nice to hear.." Said the apprentice witch as she ducked her head, thinking about what they should do next. "Hey I think you should go, you're not safe here you know-" She continued to which the blue cookie quickly denied. "No! I need to find a way for our SoulJams not to merge with our body, if we find a way for that not to happen you can show it to your teacher and then they won't have to... You know-" He made a motion of squeezing something with his hand. Y/N doubted that, she wasn't exactly the best at magic, she was barely creating potions after all! But her friend was asking for her help, it would be cruel not to give it.

"This is a crazy plan." Y/N said as she walked down to the warehouse with a Blueberry Milk Cookie sitting on her shoulder. "Hey! I proposed that you come in during the day, not in the middle of the night!" The cookie replied, pointing to the moonlight coming in through a window. "Oh because clearly they would let me come in with you by my side right? I'd walk in greeting everyone and when they asked for you I'd say you were a hallucination of theirs, besides, I'm not allowed to be here, I'm barely a level two apprentice and this place is for level ten's!" She opened the door very carefully not to make any sound and entered, looking for the ingredients that his friend was telling him. "No, not that one, look for the one that says magically burnt. I think that one might work. Yes, that one, the one on top."

Once they had gathered everything they needed, they put it in the bag that the witch was carrying while she let out a sigh of relief, it had been easy! Now all that was left was to get out of the warehouse. "And how do you know what we needed?" She asked as she went up the stairs, being careful not to throw anything out of the bag and not to knock Blueberry Milk who was still on her shoulder. "Well, I previously told you: I am the virtue of knowledge! I know a thing or two about magic!" He sounded rather proud of himself so the apprentice just chuckled under her breath. "In that case you should teach me, don't you think?" Him? Teaching someone else?... He hadn't thought about it before, maybe he'd make a good teacher! Who knows, he might even like it.

Upon reaching the top floor Y/N noticed several students who while trying to sneak out of the tower had seen her going up. "Y/N, weren't you supposed to be one of the responsible students?" One of them asked mockingly, luckily it was dark so she was able to put Blueberry Milk in the bag with everything else, not without a small noise of surprise on his part of course. "Hey!" "A-Ah.. Yeah, well once a year doesn't hurt, besides this is for exams.... Yeah.. Exams." She muttered as she walked upstairs more quickly, hiding everything the bag had. Once in her room she padlocked the door shut again and for good measure put a chair blocking the door.

"Phew- that was close. Magic team does it again!" Y/N said as she placed the bag carefully on the table and opened it. "Are you okay in there? I think I hid you too quickly-" She apologized for that as the cookie came out with shaky steps. "Yes.. I forget that I weigh absolutely nothing to you- wait- magic team?" He said and sat down on a book, trying to recover a little from the dizziness caused by the sudden movement. "Yeah! We do magic and we're working together, magic team! And I'm really sorry- but I couldn't let them see you you know? Who knows what they would have done, they're pretty cruel when they want to be and I honestly wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Hearing one of the beings you might consider divine to your species say that he cared about the welfare of someone so insignificant (from the cookie's point of view) was a bit odd and it made him avert his gaze with some embarrassment, shifting his feet a bit. "Well it's nice to know that at least someone of you do care.." The blue cookie shook his head and as best he could helped Y/N take the stuff out of the bag, once everything was out he remained thoughtful, how would he get it to his studio? Carrying it would be too much, they were giant bottles, too heavy to carry in one trip, ask the witch for help? Out of the question, the chaos it could cause at home would be disastrous, besides someone could follow her and give away the position to the teacher, he could stay to create what was needed right there but it would be too risky for him to disappear for so long, the only option would be to return home and instruct the apprentice by means of letters that a candy bird could carry. "Uhm.. Listen, I know I've asked a lot of you and you've risked too much for me but, could you perform the experiment?" That question to Blueberry Milk sounded like he was asking her to gouge her eye out or something. "Ah! Me?! Look, I really want to help you but- I couldn't, I can barely get the love potion to go to stage two, I don't think I can create the solution to the corruption of something as powerful as the Soul Jams-..." That was something he could understand, after all he himself doubted his own abilities sometimes and it would certainly be difficult. But here the difference would be that in this case he would be supporting him. "I'll show you how! I'll send you letters explaining everything in detail, you won't do it on your own! Besides you'll be able to do it, you have a great talent inside you, I can feel how the magic flows naturally in you, you just have to stop doubting so much. Magic is a type of art, you need to find your own style!" Those words came out with such sincerity and confidence that Y/N was inspired by that same feeling, could she do it? Of course she could! "All right! I'll do what you teach me, besides I wouldn't want anything to happen to you or your friends!"

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

[anxiousthoughts365]

Read

'Whatcha reading, Moonbeam?'

Remus didn't look up from his page. He was so engrossed in the words that he didn't care that his back and hip were aching from being crushed into the window seat of the boys' dormitory room for too long, or that the sun was dipping so low beneath the tree line of the Forbidden Forest that he was having to strain his eyes to keep reading. Even his boyfriend's proximity wasn't enough to draw his attention away.

'Muggle book,' he muttered, only half-aware of what he was saying. It wasn't until Sirius' head, cocked to one side so that he could read the tile on the book's cover, entered his line of vision that he placed a long finger between the pages to save his place and made himself look at the other boy.

'Oh, Oscar Wilde!' Sirius said, his handsome face lighting with recognition as he met Remus' surprised gaze. 'He was the guy who wrote gay poetry, right? And got sent to prison for it?'

'Sort of? He - Wait, how do you know about Oscar Wilde?' Remus blurted.

'Reggie reads,' Sirius sighed, rolling his eyes, as though being well read made his brother a lost cause. 'Then he yaps about his books to James, who yaps about them to me. Getting rather boring, to be honest.'

'Well, maybe you should read some of the books that they talk about?' Remus tried. 'You never know, you might find something you could talk to Regulus about in them.'

'Riiiiight,' Sirius drawled, shaking his head as though the idea of it was impossible. But suddenly he paused, then grinned at Remus. 'Wait, what if you read it to me?'

'You ...' Remus blinked up at his triumphant boyfriend, his mind moving slowly around the concept. 'You want me to read you The Picture of Dorian Gray?'

'Yeah! It would be brilliant!' Sirius looked smug, like he'd just solved all of the world's problems in one fell swoop.

'It's ... It's quite an old book, Pads,' Remus murmured, treading carefully with his wording.

'Alright, well, I won't touch the pages or anything.'

'No, Love, I mean ...' Remus grappled with himself for a moment before plunging on, 'The wording is quite, um, flowery? It uses a lot of old language, and it's quite hard to follow in places, and -'

'Oh,' Sirius breathed, the smile slipping from his face. Remus started to panic when he saw the walls beginning to build behind the silver eyes that he so often got lost in, and then Sirius was turning away, muttering, 'You know, Remus, if you didn't want to do it, you could have just said -'

Remus lurched out of his sitting position, wincing slightly as his joints twinged at the sudden movement. But he still managed to catch Sirius' elbow, still managed to pull him back. The barriers weren't fully in place yet, as Sirius allowed himself to be turned, so Remus began blathering.

'Alright, look, it was written in the 1800s, and it was illegal to be gay back then, so Wilde couldn't just write an openly gay novel. He had to use a lot of imagery and careful language to hide what he meant. It's a story about love and obsession and how those things can easily become confused, but because of the style of the writing it's not as thrilling as a spy book or a crime novel. It's not that I don't want to read to you. I would love to read to you. But I just wanted you to know what you were in for, and that it's OK if you get bored and want to go do something else, yeah?'

Remus waited for a heartbeat, then two, panting slightly from his rant. But finally, Sirius softened, his eyes losing that harshness, and he lifted one hand to cup Remus' jaw.

'I think you could read me Hogwarts: A History from cover to cover, and it would be the most fascinating thing I'd ever heard,' Sirius murmured, the sincerity in his voice making Remus melt.

'Well, we'll see,' he rumbled, smiling when Sirius' thumb stroked gently over his cheekbone. Silent thanks for catching him before he spiralled. Remus turned his head to press a kiss against the other boy's pale wrist, then added, 'Could we move to the bed, though? My back is killing me.'

'Just say the word,' Sirius purred, and Remus chuckled at the elusion to one of their favourite songs. Quite an apt song, really, for the moment.

He allowed Sirius to pull him to his feet, and in no time they were curled up on Sirius' bed, with Remus' back well supported by numerous cushions and Sirius splayed out on his front, his head on Remus' chest, arms wrapped around his waist and hips nestled between his thighs. Remus opened the book at the first page.

'The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses,' he began. 'And when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.'

'Sounds lovely,' Sirius sighed, his voice already heavy and relaxed. And Remus couldn't help smiling as he tangled his fingers into his boyfriend's long black hair, and read.

[spyxfamilyanalysis]

Do you think donovan has something to do w project apple? The one that makes Anya can read minds, and if he does do you think he experimented w his children? Or Demetrius is born that weird

Well, I think there might be misunderstanding about the name of the Project. Project Apple is experimented on animals like Bond Forger, to make them useful with special abilities, for Bond's case is predicting the near future. But of course, there are still some limitations: the future can be altered, it is not fixed, as can be seen in Spy x Family episode 13-16, when Anya reading Bond's future predictions and changed it before Twilight was in danger.

And if you are asking what project Anya is experimented, is actually "nameless". Throughout the series and manga, the name of the project is currently unknown, and I, myself, am not sure if the Tatsuya-san will reveal it... Yet somehow, the Internet "said?" that there are the same name? That confused me???

Anyway, this hypothesis about Anya and Donovan has gone wild ever since, so let me explain.

We haven't known much about Demetrius, the only time he appeared was when Damian called him to meet their Father, which can be found in this scene (Chapter 37)

To know more about chapter 37 -> link (it's not that I'm lazy, this post already analyze full so idk what to add...)

About the scars, here are my predictions:

Maybe he really is related to the Project, since the mark of the stiches are pretty close to Anya's. And some are suspected that the ornaments on Anya's head could be a way to hide her scars from the experiments, or I think they are literally just accessories for her hair, like when she was small.

About the scientists, some said that after Anya escaped, the only "laboratory rat" managed to survive, they may be working on animals, like Bond, after that, as "hope" for science to save "world peace". And Donovan could be either an experiment like Anya, testing some sort of weird stuff on himself, or someone like the scientists who just got injured from, like idk, being attacked by his "laboratory animals". And I think that the chances of him being injured from war is very low, because he is the one to start war between Ostania and Westalis.

Are there any chances of Demetrius inherit the intelligence from Donovan? I think no. It's definitely not from the crazy ideas of his own father thinking of war, Ostania and Westalis are currently in the period of the Cold war, where there are no need for weapons, yet politicians are in a tense period, with the risk of war breaking out. True that his intelligence might be genetically inherited, but I can assure that both Damian and Demetrius may know nothing about what he was planning. So, uh, yeah, Demetrius is just that weird, and he is an introvert. You can tell how short his lines are when he was on the phone.

Off-and-bonus topic: I am very suspicious about their mother, Melinda. She first appeared officially in chapter 65, and the bus hijack incident of the Red Circus Arc. When Damian spoke about Donovan, her expression changed completely, as if she hated him deeply and want him gone from her sight. This could mean that she might know about what he was hiding, and probably she has an obsession to Damian, her sweet son~(?)

Look, she is so sus for hell sure. >:( But I'm not sure whether or not she is evil? Even Loid is aware of her now...

Also, take a very close look at the dialogue after the hijack (Chap 75):

She truly loves Damian, yet what we didn't realize that, his brother, Demetrius was not even mentioned in her interior monologue(?)/ mind. We also know that she calls Damian as a curse...: "I never should have come here... If only he'd died in the hijacking...", "If only I weren't burdened with this child...", "How he disgusts me...". At first when this chapter was out, I read this part and thought "he" that she mentioned was Donovan, and now, re-reading this, she was mentioning Damian. And I have no idea if she cares Demetrius more than Damian, or is it the opposite?

And finally, I bet she is hiding something from Damian... I mean, when Anya was mind-reading her, she was a bit scared. A scary obsession to Damian terrifyingly... maybe something about Donovan and the war between the 2 nations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message from the author (me): This is a very interesting topic! After I received your question, it took me several days to give you my answer which I think is most suitable and accurate, I do hope it is the answer you are looking for. Truly sorry for the long-time response, I was working with my final exams, so I can't answer you immediately.

Anyway, thank you for waiting and taking your time reading!🥰🥰🥰

[piracytheorist]

Spy x Family 30 Day Challenge

Day 8: Worst moment for you?

This is hard because I'm not sure what angle of "bad" I wanna take this from. Is it a moment that I just plain didn't like? One I found pointless? One that I think wasn't executed well?

I have a few moments that made me uncomfortable, though I didn't find them particularly poorly made or pointless. But it's about one certain character and I just know that will once again attract at least one upset fan trying to defend that character to me so

So I'm gonna put my critic glasses on and go with a moment that I felt wasn't done justice in the adaptation to the anime. I've talked about it before but I genuinely believe it bears repeating. From chapter 30 to episode 21:

You see, in the manga, while Twilight seemed understandably annoyed and confused by Nightfall's behaviour, he catches a glimpse of sadness on her face, a face that hasn't shown emotions pretty much for as long as he's known her, and he's shocked by it. What made Nightfall, who has maintained a calm and stone-cold expression all through her missions, now stand in the rain and look at him like that?

This is a sign of Twilight's deep buried but innate humanity. Where even after getting annoyed by someone, seeing them suddenly sad makes him worry about them, because his feelings of annoyance don't really matter to him when he's faced with someone who looks so damn desperate and sad. He wasn't just emotionally aware enough to notice her sadness, he was also compassionate enough to worry over it.

And while when I first read that chapter (this was one of the very few chapters I read prior to watching them in the anime) I felt that this was unnecessary, I realized how wrong I was because this is VERY gutsy from Endo. Endo prioritized showing characterization for Twilight over the worry that the audience might see this moment as ship-related. I don't know how many people saw this and had even an inkling of a thought that this moment hinted at a Twilight x Nightfall romantic relationship, but I know in that chapter alone there were enough hints to show that Nightfall's dreams of marrying him have no hopes of coming true, and the Campbelldon arc only solidified that.

So, there should be no fear by the audience that this moment will bring Tension!™ to the Loid x Yor relationship because there IS no competition. Nightfall has no hopes of ever competing for Twilight's affection, but she still is a fellow human being that Twilight can afford and is inclined to show compassion to.

And then, the anime did this:

While it's a small (on the surface) change, it's a complete neutering of his expression and I am legit MAD about it. He doesn't even look annoyed by her antics anymore, he looks at best confused but in a "uuuhhh can I help you" kind of way.

And while I don't have any actual insight into the anime writers' room, I could bet they did that exactly for the reason I mentioned above, which Endo didn't seem to care about. Endo said "There is no way Twilight would even consider Nightfall as a romantic interest, but that doesn't mean that he can't show compassion to her. This story is about love and hope for humanity, and part of that includes worrying about someone when they look so sad, even if they've been annoying". The anime said "Look! Look! Don't worry about Twiyor look! He obviously doesn't care that she's sad! That makes for good characterization we promise!! Main theme what main theme"

So yeah, this is a moment that actually annoys me from a storytelling perspective, and I truly hope that in the future the anime team trusts Endo's writing a little more, so that they won't have to make such small but oh so narratively important changes just to placate the audience.

[yumeka-sxf]

A chronological analysis on Twilight and Yor - Part 25

*This is part of an ongoing post series. If you missed the Introduction/Part 1, click here*

----------

In Part 19, I discussed how Twilight treats Bond as more than a dog when they went on the mission together at Born Laboratories. But the fire rescue episode is where his feelings really seep through. He gets rightfully upset when Bond seemingly attacks people for no reason. But rather than become angry, he not only remains logical – he tries to comprehend why a dog who's been properly trained would act this way, and even entertains the idea that Bond might be sick – but, like with the many times Anya's antics confused him, he puts the responsibility upon himself to understand Bond better.

Even after two of Bond's well-intentioned attempts to help people only caused Twilight to get frustrated, Twilight still decides to trust Bond when he gets agitated about the fire. And even after Bond runs into the burning building when supposedly no one was inside, Twilight still trusts him and thinks that perhaps his nose is sensing someone inside. It's clear that Twilight himself doesn't realize how much trust he has in this dog that he supposedly only keeps around "for the mission." Twilight even risks his own life by going after Bond.

When he realizes that the reason Bond went inside was to rescue another dog, his frustration immediately dissipates. He then smiles at Bond the same way he smiled at Yor on the island when he understood the sacrifice she made for Anya…it's a rare smile reserved only for when one of his family members does something that truly touches him.

And it touches him because making these kinds of sacrifices is what he does all the time. It's an unwavering sense of duty that he feels like he's alone in doing, so he can't help but feel gratified when he sees the same sentiment in others.

It's ironic that Twilight's first encounter with wet Bond is what almost makes him break his facade. Even though "Loid Forger" is supposed to be a normal guy who wouldn't have to hide emotions, and Twilight has inadvertently let some emotions such as fear, frustration, and compassion break through, the act of laughing must be too far removed from his spy persona that he simply can't bring himself to accept it, even when acting as Loid Forger. So all he can do is try to suppress the smirk creeping along his face and tell himself that a spy must always remain composed.

Considering how embarrassed he was when he thought Yor may have seen him skipping at the resort island, he's lucky she wasn't here to see him almost laugh at wet Bond…the embarrassment may have killed him.

This episode continues to show how Twilight is willing to stick his neck out to do what's right even at the risk of revealing himself. He did it not that long ago on a larger scale when he decided to help the SSS diffuse the bomb on the ship, and now he's doing it on a smaller scale with a dramatic fire rescue and apprehending an arsonist.

And once this self-made mission of his is complete, we get the pinnacle of how much Twilight cares for Bond when he tells him that he should think of himself as a family member first and guard dog second, plus how heartbroken "someone" would be if anything happened to him. While he has said compassionate things like this to Yor and Anya before, he seems to have an easier time expressing these feelings to Bond, since Bond is, again, someone with whom he doesn't have to put on acts.

@agentpenguinmann does an excellent job describing in this post how Twilight's compassionate side shines when he's interacting with Bond, or even dogs in general. To quote:

"Speaking of empathy, I think that among many others, one of the best pieces of evidence for it is how [Twilight] treats dogs - creatures over which he has the upper hand. He apologized to one dog three times in the span of a couple of minutes. A dog that was hostile towards him [referring to the German shepherd from the doggy crisis arc].

…in the "saving doggy from the fire" chapter, when the crisis was averted, Twilight got on Bond's eye level to tell him that he's gotta be careful because Anya would be heartbroken if something happened to him. This is something parents do to their kids to help children feel safer, to show them they're giving the kid their full attention. And then he goes right into the 'for the mission' mode at the slightest sign of affection from a dog.

…[Twilight is not] used to receiving any kind of gratitude for his actions. He just kinda doesn't know what to do with it, because literally moments later he gives Bond the Proud Dad look that speaks for itself."

The fact that he took time to say such thoughtful things to a dog, a creature who he probably assumes doesn't understand the meaning of his words, proves how deep his feelings run when someone he cares about puts the well being of others before their own. Even after he says such heartfelt things to Bond, and had patted him on the head several times throughout the day, he gets flustered when Bond affectionately rubs against his leg. He even reverts back to total "for the mission" mode by saying he's only doing this so as not to disrupt the Forger family, which would be bad for his mission. Since he had spent all day alone with Bond, and thus didn't have to put on any acts, he must have finally realized how liberating that felt so he had to correct himself regardless…he really is a work in progress.

But still, the soft smile he gives immediately after, followed by a promise to take Bond to the dog park the next day since he was left out of the vacation…are they the words of a still yet unbroken spy, or a growing dog dad?

When Becky has her play date at the Forger house, Twilight is still unable to fully detach himself from spy mode when forced to interact with a new person, even a child. In his smooth, subtle way, he tries to pry any potential information about the Blackbells from Becky. Interestingly, one of the questions he asks is whether her father plays with her. Compared to the questions he had asked prior about her father's business or whether they go out often, I can't see any benefit, from a spy perspective at least, about asking whether her father plays with her or not. Maybe he absentmindedly asked this because, deep down, he wants to know how other fathers are with their daughters (since he cares about his own aptitude as a father).

When Becky starts "putting the moves" on Twilight, both Twilight and Yor react as one would expect: Twilight is confused, as he typically is when he tries to find logic in the actions of children, while Yor and all her sweet naivety, finds Becky's seemingly innocent affection for Loid endearing. Since she spent a good portion of her life raising Yuri, she doesn't find anything wrong with silly child antics like that, especially since Yuri has always been overwhelmingly affectionate with her, but never in a "wrong" way (at least not from her perspective).

However, when Becky ramps things up, even Twilight begins to feel a bit uncomfortable. He starts thinking that Yor might get the "wrong" idea…perhaps something as dark as manipulating children's hearts for some sinister desire. But, while Yor trusts him more than he knows, she doesn't have nearly as much trust in her own abilities, so her first assumption when Becky mentions being drunk is that she may have done something wrong…like accidentally give a child alcohol!

When Becky finally admits that she was trying to go on a date with Loid, she's shocked that Yor's response is that she's glad so many people love Loid, since he's such a wonderful person. Again, since she's used to Yuri's outpouring admiration for her (with nothing malicious behind it), she doesn't think it's a bad thing for Becky to have similar feelings for Loid. And unlike Fiona, she knows that Loid wouldn't take the silly infatuation of a child seriously, so there's nothing to be jealous about. When Becky asks why Loid chose her, she brings up the time he complimented her on her strength after their date at the bar (since she can't tell Becky the real reason behind their marriage).

This scene implies that even though Loid may not have mentioned this particular part when "they had to have the same conversation again" the next morning, Yor still hadn't completely forgotten about it – his words must have really touched her, since she was not only able to remember them, but it's the first thing that comes to her mind when asked why Loid may have chose her to be his wife (as opposed to something simple, like being good at cleaning, which is what he had said during the Eden interview).

To be continued in Part 26 (whenever season 3 is released!)

<-Return to Part 24

[tswaney17]

E/riel didn't go beyond fleeting glances and brushes of fingers from ACOFAS to ACOSF.

It should be pointed out that there not even in a relationship. It's an attraction. Putting an end to that attraction does not have implications on the overall plot because there wasn't significant build up that tied them to key plotlines that would ruin the story. Elucien's bond acceptance or rejection has more implications than this.

Azriel confirmed he doesn't spend time with E/ain so she is not training with him and if it's with Nuala and Cerridwen that's still speculation and given Azriel's reactions about her getting involved in something dangerous, would he even be willing to involve her?

Besides, it doesn't matter what happened in ACOWAR or ACOFAS. Where do E/riel stand after ACOSF? Using the previous books "build-up" argument is poor. It’s like arguing “Hey! Aelin said she will always choose Chaol, so Chaol is her endgame.”

Let me break this down for you so you might actually understand what’s happening.

Elriel in ACOSF: fleeting glances, shy touches, an almost kiss, mutual attraction that is confirmed in text.

Elucien in ACOSF: physically cringes away from “her mate.” Can’t stand to be around each other. “I’m not always here to see my mate.”

Gwynriel in ACOSF: “he wouldn’t go so far as to call her a friend.” Never touches.

“It should be pointed out that there (they are*) not even in a relationship…” - Well no shit Sherlock. It’s Nesta’s book. Not Elain’s. Why would Elain get into a relationship with someone when it’s not in her book?

It is blatantly hinted at that Elain is training with the Wraith twins in secret keeping and being stealthy, all major indicators of having a spy plot for her book. (Who’s the spymaster again? Oh right.) Nesta notes it and so does Feyre. You disregarding these two hints sounds like a you problem.

Oh my goodness?! A male showing a reaction of not wanting the female he cares about to endanger herself?! THAT’S MADNESS!! How dare he act the same way every other male character in a romantasy acts when their female is threatened or at risk. The audacity of him. 🙄

“Besides, it doesn’t matter what happens in ACOWAR or ACOFAS. Where do (does*) Elriel stand after ACOSF? Using the previous books ‘build-up’ argument is poor.” - So you agree, Elriel does have build-up from the previous books. Also, stating this might actually be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard (and I’ve heard a lot of shit in this fandom). What do you mean we can’t use previous books of breadcrumbs as indicators of where the plot is going and who is endgame? Be for fucking real right now.

[traveler-at-heart]

Hi 🥰

🐾

Thank you for the prompt!

High on love

“Landing in 5 minutes” Clint announced as he checked over the screen.

“Thank God” Natasha muttered. It’s been almost six weeks since the mission started and she’s eager to see you.

“Are you going to see your girl?”

“She’s not my girl”

“Yet”

As soon as they landed, Fury walked up to them.

“Let’s debrief now”

“Oh, Fury… I actually have to get to the medbay” Natasha began to limp. Clint hid a smile as she pretended to be in pain.

“You once stayed at a meeting while stitching yourself up” the man reminded her, unimpressed.

“What can I say, not all of us are super soldiers. We’re getting old, right, Barton?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer and limped away, as Clint and Fury watched her committ to the lie.

“She’s going to see that chick doctor, isn’t she”

“Yeap”

—

“Agent Romanoff, how can we help you?” A nurse greeted as soon as Natasha walked in. She’s no longer pretending to limp but she figures there might be another way to get your attention.

“Just reporting after a mission for a general check up. Doctor Y/L/N is usually in charge”

“Oh, she’s getting prepped for surgery”

Well, damn. As head of the department, you were usually in and out of the OR at any given hour.

“I’ll come back when she’s out then”

“Yeah, it’s gonna take a while for her to wake up from the anesthesia”

“Wait, what? I thought you meant she was performing surgery, not being the one…”

“Well, she was feeling sick this morning and after running some tests we found her appendix was the issue” Natasha stared at the woman and she could immediately telll the spy was worried. “It’s a very simple procedure. They’re starting in ten minutes. Would you like to see her?”

Natasha nodded and walked behind the nurse to one of the patient rooms.

“She’s heavily sedated so… uh… yeah” the nurse warned before knocking.

“Come iiiiin. Oh my God, is this a dream? Natty!! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you” you smiled and raised a hand, hoping Natasha would take it.

She blushed at the nickname. So far, all she had heard you call her was Agent Romanoff and a very stern “Natasha” when she insisted on going on a mission with broken ribs.

“How was your mission, darling?” you sighed and she chuckled. “My God, you have the loveliest smile”

“The mission went great. I came here to see you but it seems like you’ll need me to take care of you for a change”

“I hate needles, Natty. And I’ll have a scar. Bye bye bikinis” you pouted, lifting your hospital gown to show your still intact skin.

“Let’s not…” she pulled it down just in time for the nurse to open the door and take you to the OR.

“Natty, walk with me” you pleaded as you were wheeled away. “If I die…”

“You’re not gonna die, Y/N”

“But if I do… I just want you to know that I think you’re beautiful and smell really, really nice and anyone would be lucky to have you. And do you like Italian food because I can make an amazing lasagna and then we’ll make out in my couch”

“Oh my God” the intern walking next to your bed was desperately trying to make it stop. He knew how much you’d regret saying all of that to Natasha, in front of several staff members.

“Please rush Doctor Y/L/N to OR 1. This is as far as you can go, Agent”

“She’s gonna be ok, right?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as she’s out of surgery, if you’d like”

“Yes, please”

He nodded once again, following your bed as you waved and screamed.

“Byeee, Natty”

—

Natasha stared at her empty cup of coffee, still wondering what she should do with the things you’d said.

Considering how many drugs were on your system, it could all be meaningless.

Should she act on it?

“Agent Romanoff” the intern stood before her, trying to appear casual. The truth was, most of the Medbay’s staff was scared of her. “She’s back in her room, we’re just waiting for her to wake up. It could take a while”

“But everything went ok? She’s gonna be fine?”

“Yes. She just needs bedrest for at least two weeks. Which I suspect she won’t like”

Natasha chuckled and followed him back to your room. You were sleeping peacefully, your vitals stable.

Still, Natasha disliked the sight of you in a hospital bed.

“You can tell nurse Richards to page me once she wakes up. A-assuming you’ll wait here for her…”

“I will, thank you”

He nodded once again and closed the door behind him. Natasha approached your side and placed a small strand of hair behind your ear.

Aside from some physical exams, she’d never been so close to you. Free to examine your face, she noticed a small scar right above your left eyebrow, a birth mark near your right cheek….   

She could stare at you forever, and she almost did, dragging a chair to sit next to your bed.

An hour and a half later, your eyes struggled to open.

“Mmm”

“Hey, I’m here, Y/N. You’re ok.” the redhead took your hand, her thumb drawing soothing circles.

“Nat?”

“Hi, detka. How are you feeling?”

“Like a bus ran me over several times. But it’s good to see you” you admitted with a smile. You weren’t as forward as before, probably because the anesthesia was wearing off.

“Right back at you” she smiled softly.

“I had the weirdest dream while I was all high” you chuckled. “That you were here and I practically flashed you in my hospital gown and then asked you out in the least romantic way possible…”

Natasha looked to the ceiling, trying to hide her blush.

“Natasha, that was a dream, right? RIGHT?”

“Uhmmm…”

“OH MY GOD”

“What’s wrong?” the intern walked in at that moment. “I told you to page me when she woke up” he scolded Natasha but one glare from the redhead and he was back to being scared. “Your heart rate is way up right now”

“Yeah, that’s nothing medical, trust me” you answered, mortified. The intern looked between the two of you and nodded.

“Right. I think we can discharge you tomorrow, Chief”

“Thanks, George”

He nodded and left you alone again, in the middle of a very awkward silence.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“Go out with me” Natasha said as you spoke.

“What?” you smiled, and she squeezed your hand.

“Would you go on a date with me?” she said and you nodded.

“Lasagna at my place” you offered, trying to  raise yourself from the bed. “Ouch”

“For now, let’s stick to take out”

“Deal”

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 4 snippet

chapter 1: lifeless | chapter 2: too far gone | chapter 3: a sight to see

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader.

a/n: hi folks! well... where do i even start. in the next chapter we are going down some dark path. probably not wise considering how shit has been going down as of late in the pedro pascal fandom. i have tried to write this chapter as sensibly as i could given the circumstances reader is in. i know this is a sensitive topic so please, PLEASE, read the warnings before you go ahead. i'll be posting the full chapter on saturday 3rd august. take care of yourselves, it's a mad world out there.

warnings (for the whole chapter): please proceed with caution. if any of the following warnings trigger you, skip this chapter. DARK THEME. rape threats (it doesn’t happen, but still). death threats. mention of voyeurism. reader is humiliated. derogatory terms (bitch). swear words. masturbation (m to himself). body shaming (well deserved though). blood. violence. gore bc joel loses his shit. murder (but it’s okay because i say so). soft!caring!joel. pet name (dove).

“They’ve taken her, Tommy”, Joel managed to mutter. Doom washed over him. He felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what your destiny might be. He should have paid attention; he should have known you both were being watched. But at that moment in time he was thinking with his cock, not with his brain. He put you in harm’s way. He knew he shouldn’t have exposed you like that. He would not have done it had he known someone was spying on you both. His last words to you basically meant that you were a mistake he regretted. His heart contracted so hard at the realisation of what he had said, his lungs evacuated all air within them. Where those going to really be his last words to you? Joel gulped down the knot in his throat. He truly was a damned man. Everyone he touched, died. His deceased wife, Sarah, now potentially you too. Death might be her best way out, that intrusive thought scared the shit out of him. He shook his head at the idea, in denial.

[bitbybitwrites]

Ugh - life is so crazy, got to this really late. Sorry!

Thanks for tagging me in this and past six /seven/several sentence sundays and WIP Wednesdays that I've missed!:

@porcelainmortal, @alasse9 @sheepywritesfics @softboynick @forabeatofadrum

@daisyishedwig @sophie1973 @taste-thewaste @14carrotghoul @wordsofhoneydew

If I forgot anyone, I apologize!

****

What's been up with writing:

Well I recently posted my latest chapter in my Klaine fic, If I Can Make Your Heart My Home. I have quite a few writing asks to tackle (I'll get to them, I promise) and my immensely large WIP list . . .

But of course, because I'm a sucker for punishment, I started, what I am jokingly referring to as - one prompt, 2 ships 😂.

Basically saw a writing prompt on Tumblr and loved the idea so much I could see it fit in both for Klaine and FirstPrince.

So I started writing something for both because my brain won't let it go.

Both stories are fantasy AUs, each with a little "saving someone from a dragon" element aspect to it - we'll see where they go.

Pardon the silly fire themed titles - thought they went well with the dragon aspect of the story 😂

Really rough snippets are below:

baby won't you light my fire - Klaine WIP

“I’m not sure I understand, Sir, “ Blaine said, as he shifted uncomfortably in the heat of the summer sun, his leather jerkin feeling a bit stiff and uncomfortable. The sword strapped to his side grew heavy after his long journey from Westerville. 

Perhaps it was just the fatigue.  Perhaps it was his lack of a morning meal, thanks to him leaving at the crack of dawn to avoid his brother Cooper’s incessant questions about his latest quest.  Whatever the reason was, Blaine unable to focus on the words coming out of the other man’s mouth.

Burt sighed as he pushed his cloth cap from his head, rubbing his forehead.  “Perhaps it’s best I show you son.”

The blacksmith paused first to call out to dark innards of the forge.  “Finn!” He shouted “Finn!”

A tall, lanky young man emerged, a leather apron wrapped around his frame and a smear of soot across his forehead.  He removed a pair of thick gloves, also leather, from his hands as he squinted in the bright sunlight, spying Burt and giving him a bright smile.  “Yes, Burt?” He asked.

Burt nodded towards Blaine.  “This is Blaine.  He’s here to help your brother.”

For a moment, the younger blacksmith looked puzzled.  Then after noticing the sword at  his belt, the furrow on his brow smoothed. 

“OH . . .” Finn’s eyes lit up with understanding, and then softened a bit with sympathy just a moment later.  “I’m glad.  Don’t let Kurt intimidate you.  He’s got a . . um . . strong personality.”

Blaine nodded.  “I’ve had to rescue many a temperamental damsel in distress,” he confided, thinking back to Lady Kitty and the Baroness Sugar de Motta.  Those quests were nothing but headaches.  He tolerated it for the pay though.  “I think I should be fine.”

Finn’s eyes shifted from Burt to Blaine.  “Yes . . .” he said, appearing as if he was unsure how much farther to explain.  “Well, Kurt’s situation might be a bit different that any other ladies in ivory towers that needed saving,” the young blacksmith told Blaine cryptically.

“Well,” Burt said, as he coughed  and nodded, looking about nervously.  “I think we should get going before nightfall.  Tell your mother I may be home later for dinner.”

Finn nodded as he held out his hand to the visitor.  “Um . . .good luck, I guess,” Finn said.  “Safe travels and . . uh,” Finn straightened, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin.  “You make sure to treat my brother right, or you’ll have to deal with me.”

Blaine stared up wordlessly at Finn, clueless as to what he was trying to convey.

Burt snorted in the background.  “Finn,” he gently chastised his step-son.  “I think Kurt can take care of himself . . don’t you?”

“But I’m still the older brother . . .”

“Kurt is older than you.”

“Bigger brother then . . .“

With a chuckle, Burt gave his step son a look.  Finn begrudgingly sighed, his shoulders deflating a bit as he gave in.

“Fine . . .”  Finn still tried to give Blaine an intimidating glare.  “Just, be nice to Kurt, ok?” he asked.  “He’s been through a lot lately.”

Blaine nodded at the puzzling request.  “I promise.”

*****

2.) burn baby burn - FirstPrince WIP

“I think you’re crazy.”

Alex snorted as he shoved a few more items into his rucksack “You would," he countered.

His best friend rolled over from her position lying down. Her gilt embroidered slippers glinted in the early morning sun as she waggled her toes while she perched precariously on the bed. Her head hung over the edge and her dark curls reached downwards toward the floor. Nora continued watching him pack, with a smirk on her face. 

“Only you, Alejandro, would accept this sort of one-man-needed, dangerous, save-a-damsel-in-distress type of job”.  she said, still very amused. "Just face it, you’re hoping the princess is pretty and you might get a roll in the royal bedsheets before accepting payments and heading off on your way.”

A soiled shirt flew across the room and hit Nora squarely in the face.

Alex sighed.  “We are not discussing my love life right now.  I have to prepare for this job.”

“What love life?” Nora teased.

“Lalalallalalalalala . . .” June sang loudly as she entered, her hands full of items.  “No talking about my little brother’s love life.  Don’t want to know the details.”

“You sure, because there was that one time . . “ Alex began as he smirked.

June let out an exasperated sound and tossed the armful of items at her brother.  He quickly cursed, dropped what he was holding to attempt to catch everything hurtling his way. What items he failed to grasp floated in the air before him. June’s eyes twinkled as she wiggled her fingers causing them to dance around her brother’s head, inches out of his reach,  occasionally making  one or two dip down and smack him in the skull.

Nora cackled as she watched the siblings from her upside down position.

“Why on earth do I need all this , Bug?” Alex said exasperated, trying to jump up to catch a floating bundle of herbs, but failing to reach it miserably.

“Because you can’t go in and face a dragon by yourself (which is INSANE) . . “

“Told him that already!” chirped Nora

“ . . And not have some magic in your pocket. Since you won’t take me with you, I'm stocking you up on herbs and crystals.” June said firmly.

With a few swift waves of her hands all the items bounced into the air into a open bag of holding that dangled between her fingers. After peering inside, June sniffed, contented that it was ready. She tied the drawstrings of the velvet pouch shut and held it out to her younger sibling who took it reluctantly.  

It wasn't that Alex had anything against magic. But he was a more of a practical, hands-on swordsman for hire. Steel blades, arrows, maces . . working with any sort of weaponry was his forte, along with being devastatingly handsome and charming, the combination of the all of that usually was all that he needed to get the job done.

Magic had its own place, he figured. And he'd do anything to placate his sister's worries. So he tossed what he often referred to as June's "bag of rocks and weeds" into his rucksack.

“I’m not sending you out there unprepared, Lil Bit.  I’d like for you to come back in one piece . .  .“ June continued as she began weaving a spell to ensure his traveling cloak would be impervious to weather.

“And sexually satisfied . . “ crowed Nora.

June groaned, stopping mid way through her motions. “Did I not say I didn’t want to hear anything about that.”

*****

Tagging to share their WIP ( writing or art or anything) (if they want to and they haven't done so already!) :

@kirakiwiwrites, @madas-ahatters-world, @caramelcoffeeaddict @little-escapist @littlemisskittentoes

@datshitrandom, @justgleekout, @mynonah, @esilher

@myheartalivewrites @kiwiana-writes @spaceorphan18 @annepi-blog @special-bc-ur-part-of-it

@sarkyblueeyes @blueeyedgrlwrites , @gleefulpoppet and an OPEN TAG for anyone else who sees this.

[tgmsunmontue]

More than movie magic... 7/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

                Jake arrives late, so late it might even be early, he doesn’t even know what time it is, but he’s exhausted, his feet feel like they have lead weights attached to them as he walks from his car towards his parents’ house. The porch light is on and when he sees the kitchen light flick on, he knows he’s woken someone else up with his arrival. Too late to do anything about that now. The light in the entry way flicks on and he scrunches his face at the sudden bright light, looks through squinted eyes and sees the bright purple of his mom’s dressing gown.

                “Hey mom…”

                “Honey, we didn’t expect you to get home tonight.”

                He withstands the hugs, the pats to the face and then another hug, like she has to reassure that every part of him is there and in one piece.

                “Yeah, I probably should have stayed somewhere, I’m pretty beat.”

                “Jake,” she says, and it’s laced with care and disappointment in equal measure, and he knows he’ll never look after himself quite the way she wants him to. “Come on, you go have a shower. I’ll bring your bag in.”

                “I can do that mom.”

                “I don’t think you’re going to manage staying awake in the shower, so how about you go prove me wrong on that account, hmm?”

                He huffs in amusement and does as he’s told. He’s glad he’s here for the next couple of months, all the comforts of being at home but also working. It’s going to be a weird sort of working vacation, although he’s glad he has a back-up trailer organized for when he start going stir-crazy from living with his parents again. He knows himself well enough to know that his limit is usually a couple of weeks. He showers, and he won’t ever admit to his mom that he does indeed doze a little under the spray. His bed feels luxurious after weeks of staying in hotel rooms and he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

                He wakes the next morning and burrows back under the covers. He has a read-through that afternoon, timed for after his arrival that was meant to be later this morning. They really aren’t expecting him until after lunch today so he could just… hide away this morning. God it’s tempting. His bags are sitting at the end of his bed and he doesn’t really need anything in them, his bedroom here fully set-up as a home away from his home in LA.

                He can spy the sunny day outside and he knows he can’t lie around in bed all day, swings his legs out and kicks off the sheet as it twists around his bare leg. Riding. He could go riding. Yeah, that’s even better than staying in bed. He pulls on some of his older clothes, worn and comfortable, already looking forward to the familiar ache he knows a couple of hours of riding will bring him. He needs to get used to riding every day as soon as possible.

                His dad is sitting in the kitchen, quietly sipping his morning coffee and he stands to give Jake a hug when he sees him. He pours himself his own cup and enjoys the quiet, his dad isn’t given to speaking when there’s nothing to be said and they spoke on the phone only a few days ago.

                “I’m just going to go and ride. I’ll be back for lunch.”

                “Hmm. It’s good to have you home. Enjoy the ride.”

                Jake grins and grabs his hat, still hanging near the backdoor and placing it on his head before heading for his parents’ stable where they keep the family horses. The ones his mom has a sentimental attachment to for whatever reason. His horse, Dasher, long ago retired and now gone for a couple of years isn’t there, but he does a double take because there is a horse in the stall that his parents always called his. Written on the board out front is Blitzen and he knows that Dasher must have been her dam, too similar to not be even if the name wasn’t a damn give-away. It’s clearly meant to be a surprise for him and he wonders instantly how she handles. God it’s going to be good to find out.

                He brushes her down and then saddles her up and everything Is laid out perfectly, like they were waiting for him, knowing he’d immediately want to get out and go riding. He swings himself up and heads outside, settling into the rhythm of riding and he can’t wait to go a little faster, she was put in his stall for a reason. He enters the arena and of course it’s full of people, he can’t do any serious practice with all these people milling about and he can see Javy and Callie, both riding horses and looking comfortable, which is a big improvement considering Javy had rung him and bitched him out about having to learn to ride a horse after all their years of friendship.

                Oh.

                Bradley’s here.

                Of course he’s here. Jake asked for him. Well, suggested.

                He hadn’t calculated for any of this. Seeing Bradley on a horse, that’s… okay, none of this is a normal reaction and he’s clearly still just as intrigued, obsessed, infatuated… Fucked if he knows. God he wants him. So much. He’s allowed to want him, but he can’t act on that if Bradley isn’t available. Asking is just too… awkward. Blatant. He’s used to other people making the first move, being more interested in him. He’s not sure if the fact that Bradley isn’t or doesn’t seem interested is part of the appeal, but he doesn’t think so. Bradley just being himself, capable and confident just turns him on. A lot. Too much for his own good.

                “Bradley. Hi. You look pretty comfortable.”

                “Jake… Hi. Yeah, she’s a smooth ride.”                 Jake bites back the immediate retort of saying he’ll show him a smooth ride, and god, it’s like he’s in a bar flirting with a guy, rather than at work and needing to be professional. He really needs to get a grip, remind himself he’s here to work. Even if he’s in the one place where he’s the most comfortable, the one place he’s never felt he needed to hide or hold back, he needs to hold himself back from Bradley Bradshaw.

PART EIGHT

[moongothic]

You know, S-Crocodile has the potential to be an interesting addendum for Crocodad bc Crocodile just learned that his son is alive, and then two years after that, boom: clone Lunarian baby (who's also technically kinda sorta Luffy's half-brother?). The thing is, even if Crocodile bridges the gap between him and Luffy, Luffy's not the baby boy that Crocodile lost so long ago. He can take care of himself, has an entire crew to lead, and they may not see each other except for rare occasions. Crocodile didn't get to raise Luffy and will never get that time back. But S-Crocodile is a still a child who will likely have zero clue what to do without the programming and, since baby crocodiles are famous for loudly calling out for their mothers, may be desperate for a parental figure.

S-Crocodile is not a replacement for Luffy by any means, but more like a second kid had later in life who Crocodile was never expecting but who gives him the chance to parent in a way that he couldn't before.

See this is a much sweeter idea than me being like "what if Crocodile dies without getting to really experience being loved by his family/a community and have people care about him and so instead Luffy/other people end up projecting those feelings onto S-Croc and make sure he gets the love and community Crocodile never got to have"

Everytime I think about the lost time Crocodad implies I just die a little inside. Like Dragon might not have gotten to be with his son either, but at least he got to spy on Luffy on occassion, at least he got to check on him from afar and see him, know how he was doing, at least he knew Luffy's name. Crocodile didn't get any of that, and never will. Like you said, that time has been lost, and this hourglass can't be turned back and reset.

What is interesting though is that the Seraphim are supposed to have the personality traits of the OGs. Crocodile is quite independent, so I feel like S-Croc should be (or at least want to be, so he can appear strong etc) independent too, right? So S-Croc might want to be kind of a lone wolf, even if deep down he was sad due to his loneliness?

What's more though is that indeed, we don't know if S-Croc is pre-T or male (since he was made from post-T Croc DNA, and we don't know if Iva-chan's HRT affects DNA/those changes applied to the Seraphim). 'Cause if S-Croc is pre-T, Crocodile should know and understand how dysphoria is gonna hit S-Croc as he gets older (which is gonna be soon, since the Seraphim age faster). And like. I could see Crocodile just feeling bad for his Mini-Me because of that. I could imagine Crocodile just dragging S-Croc to Iva-chan (if there's an opportunity for it) and get that clone some T, spare him from going through the wrong puberty etc.

Point is, I feel like if Crocodile did somehow end up taking care of his Mini-Me, it might not be because S-Croc expressed a need for it. But it might be because Crocodile would be forced to reflect on his own feelings, knowing and understanding full-well how S-Croc would feel (be it about gender or loneliness), and just. Let the Dad Instincts take over, regardless of if the Seraphim likes it or not?

[mariana-oconnor]

The Beryl Coronet pt 3

Come on, Mary! I believe in you.

Weird, how it's this one and The Naval Treaty that I had such strong ideas about whodunnit from the first introduction of the character and they're both about people making poor security decisions that could lead to national disaster. But on this one I'm supporting (one part of) the criminal duo, and in The Naval Treaty, I particularly disliked the culprit.

Mary is kind of horrible for not saving her cousin, though. He's willing to go to jail for her (if I'm right) and she's just telling everyone 'oh, he couldn't have done it!' and not actually coming up with a good reason. She didn't even get interviewed immediately because she 'fainted'. She had plenty of time to come up with a story. Maybe being woken up by a loud snap and then hearing Arthur moving around. But no, she's instead trying to get her maid framed for it all.

You can really go off a girl.

“I think that this should do,” said he, glancing into the glass above the fireplace. “I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I fear that it won't do. I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few hours.”

Oh yeah, Holmes is in disguise in some attempt to win back the beryls.

I like how he says 'I wish you could come with me, Watson' but is vague on the why not. 'It won't do' - translation: you are a terrible actor and no one alive would ever be fooled by you, also you'd blurt something out right at an important moment and ruin everything.' Let's be real. We all know.

Watson is not made for undercover work. I love him, but he would be about as useful a spy as a giant panda in an aquarium.

Or Captain America in a trenchcoat. (I love this picture).

I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that his lateness caused me no surprise.

Firstly, Watson is definitely living in Baker St atm. Either his wife is visiting her 'mother' again, or she's thrown him out. Also, him staying up until midnight although he knows that sometimes Sherlock doesn't come home for days is sort of nice, sort of a bit excessive.

Apparently Holmes does not need sleep. This is probably because he lives on tobacco, caffeine and cocaine. The fact he isn't constantly bouncing off the walls is impressive.

It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter.

That's not how white hair works, Watson. It's not that all of your hair gets lighter... that's not... Fine. I guess you're the doctor.

This is quite a transformation overnight, though. I'd suspect poison if it wasn't fairly common in these stories for people to suffer massive and immediate health conditions from sudden shock.

“I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,” said he. “Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted me.”

What you have done is be a massive idiot who doesn't understand the meanings of the words 'secure' or 'discreet'.

I'm still kind of mad at Mary for trying to pin her crime on someone else while simultaneously not offering her cousin who saved her ass any real help. BUT, having said that...

"I had said to her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had married my boy all might have been well with him."

Wow, dick move. Blaming her. Yes, I literally believe she is guilty and it is her fault entirely but Mr Holder here still believes her a perfect little angel woman, so going 'if you'd have married him, none of this would have happened'.

My dude. I had no sympathy for you. I am now in negative sympathy for you. All my care for the victims of this situation is going to Lucy, because all Arthur has to do to give himself a chance is tell the truth. Mary, if she hadn't tried to throw Lucy under the bus, I would be supporting completely.

I'm still supporting her, like 75%. I'm glad she's out of there. I hope this is one of the stories where the culprits never get caught and she and Sir George Burnwell (who maybe is not such a cad as I presumed) go on to steal many more priceless artefacts from rich people who don't take care of them.

Her letter is so fucking funny when read from the POV of someone who thinks she's guilty.

“‘My dearest Uncle: “‘I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me. In life or in death, I am ever “‘Your loving “‘Mary.’"

"Hey Unc, Whoops, my bad! If I hadn't stolen the jewels with my lover then my cousin wouldn't have been arrested for stealing the crown jewels and you wouldn't be in trouble for having lost them. I feel so guilty that I'm running off with my lover, but it's okay because we've sold the jewels so we're rich! Gonna change my name and live a life of luxury in another country. Thanks for making this so easy for me. Love, Mary xxx'

Or... at least... that's how I read it.

“No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible solution."

Holmes is with me on this. Mary needed to get out of that house.

“That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. And there is a little reward, I fancy."

A reward for finding the beryls. Is Holmes asking for the reward here or saying that Mr Holder will get the reward? Because Mr Holder deserves 0 rewards. No rewards for him.

"Have you your check-book? Here is a pen. Better make it out for £4000.”

Ah, no. Sherlock is getting the reward. Lolol. Well yeah, you deserve that.

£4000 is the equivalent of about £414,000 today. Which is an insane amount of money to write a cheque for. And it means that Burnwell and Mary (or whoever it was...) got away with the equivalent of over £300,000 which is a nice little amount. Holmes got the equivalent of £100,000 for a few days' work. Nice.

“You have it!” he gasped. “I am saved! I am saved!”

I mean... the coronet is still damaged. The police still had to get involved. I'm pretty sure the bank knows, and HRH Bertie knows and his mum the queen knows so... are you saved? Are you really? There's no way you can get your job back after you showed how utterly terrible you are at it. You clearly cannot keep a secret to save your literal life. The heir to the throne knows exactly how incompetent you are. This feels like 'I'm probably not going to be hanged for treason' not 'everything will be sunshine and kittens'.

“No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one.”

Substitute 'idiot' for 'lad' please. Very noble, sure. But don't get yourself thrown in jail for something that could genuinely be considered treason just because you want to protect a girl who doesn't love you back. Don't do it. It all sounds super romantic, but it's actually just dumb.

“You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know that the truth is known.” “He knows it already."

Holmes, telling people in the right order. Yeah, he went to talk to the man who was falsely imprisoned before the idiot who was sort of responsible for him being there.

"...that which it is hardest for me to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together.”

I'm glad Sir George turned out to be a good sort in the end. I was pretty sure he'd just done a runner and left her, but no. The couple who steals together stays together, and I think that's beautiful.

"Neither you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England—a ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what he said, but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing him nearly every evening."

I mean, he could have just left her behind. Could absolutely be worse. Also, way to take away Mary's agency in the matter. She absolutely knew that stealing the crown jewels was against the law. That's not exactly a difficult one to work out. She made her choices. I support them fully (apart from Lucy). She's 24 years old. Earlier you called her old and now she's too young and naive to know what was going on? A four year old knows stealing is wrong. She conspired to steal (part of) the crown jewels and run off with them. She let her cousin take the fall for her and pointed suspicion at two other innocent people. The girl was not just a victim in this mess. Don't pretend like she didn't know what she was doing or getting into. She absolutely knew it. And she did it anyway. Get your heads out of the misogyny juice and just accept a woman can commit a crime.

Honestly, men get the credit for all female accomplishments. Lolol.

"His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he stood there. She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and he bent her to his will."

Did you hear this conversation? Were you there? Was it recorded? How tf do you know that it was his idea and not hers? Maybe they planned it together. Maybe she was like 'hey, my uncle's an idiot who brought a 10 million dollar crown home and stuck it in his old desk that opens if you hit it in the right place, want to do a heist?' You weren't there. You've got no clue how it went.

I want to think you're saying all of this just to make Mr Holder feel less bad about it all. Just making stuff up and making Mary seem like an innocent victim in order to soothe him a little. Because you've got no evidence she wasn't just as culpable as Sir George.

"...walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared into your dressing-room. [...] Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious coronet in her hands. She passed down the stairs, [...] He saw her stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to her room..."

Yup, you're telling me she was practically blameless and only did it because she was manipulated by the terrible, evil man, and she did the actual deed single-handedly and with no sign of doubt or hesitation? The equivalent of £10 million in her hands and she just walks to the window and passes it out? Yeah, she's absolutely a helpless naive victim. I totally buy that.

Or... y'know, Sir George actually is an archfey and he enchanted her to do it.

“As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved."

I mean... I feel like he could have revealed himself and whispered 'Hey, Mary, what are you doing with that very valuable coronet?' and made her put it back by interrupting the whole affair. Rather than, you know... just standing back and watching.

“He could not explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved her secret.”

"He took the more chivalrous foolish view..." <- fixed it for you.

“It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Drink!

"But if it were the maids, why should your son allow himself to be accused in their place? There could be no possible reason."

"I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George's house, managed to pick up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that his master had cut his head the night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, made all sure by buying a pair of his cast-off shoes."

Who had 'to buy shoes' as the reason for the disguise? Because I definitely did not have that one. Oh, the good old days when people would turn up at your door to chat up your servants and buy your old shoes.

"It was a delicate part which I had to play then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in the matter."

But also, getting rid of something that identifiable would be a tricky business. They needed a buyer, you needed a secret. Mutually beneficial arrangement.

Holmes pointing guns at people off screen, why do you so rarely show us the action, ACD?

"‘Why, dash it all!’ said he, ‘I've let them go at six hundred for the three!’"

Omg. LOL. Nooooo. George. You were doing so well. You only got 600 for them? A fifth of what you could have got. My dude, my dude.

Mary, get a better guy. This one done fucked up. 600 might seem a lot for now, but it's going to disappear super quickly.

“A day which has saved England from a great public scandal,” said the banker, rising.

How? Like I said before. The police were involved. The coronet is still broken. How is this all being covered up so easily? A man has been arrested.

“I think that we may safely say,” returned Holmes, “that she is wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than sufficient punishment.”

...

Is this like 'she will be a ruined woman' kind of punishment, because...? Yeah, no. 'She's going to receive her karma because the guy will leave her and society is broken and punishes women for not being pure, virginal angels?' I do not like.

I reject your conjectured ending and substitute my own in which she and George (although he needs to get better at haggling, yikes) travel the continent and steal priceless artefacts together and she's the brains of the operation.

We're not going to leave it with 'despite the fact I have described this entire story as though she is the blameless, brainless puppet of an evil man, she will receive punishment for her naivete in the form of being "ruined" and all that comes with it.'

Fuck that shit. Mary has to bear some responsibility for her actions, and there's a decidedly creepy rapey sort of undertone to the implications here. Much ick. Do not like. Badass crime couple for the win.

Oh, next one is The Final Problem. I mean, of course I remember that one.