#both are good and have their merits of course

[twothpaste]

wonder why mother 3 lets you sequence break in chapter 7. it's definitely not an oversight - there's adjustments to dialogue & staging depending on which party members you have (ie. tanetane without kuma/duster, chimera lab with duster, etc). in theory, it's neat that the game offers the player the freedom to do the big island-wide adventure segments in any order they like. but it also works very hard to guiderail you to the "correct" areas. and there's obviously no level scaling. and the story plays out much more smoothly in the intended order. doria's needle is more narratively cohesive with just kumatora. tanetane without the full party misses half the point. etc. fetching duster early to keep him on-level with the rest of the gang is a cool trick, but then again, i've never actually had any issues whatsoever with an underlevelled duster.

when the game's not balanced around sequence-breaking, and the story's only barely written around it, it makes me question why the player's given the option at all. esp since it's kinda possible for first-time players to miss cues and go off in the "wrong" direction, earning them an experience that's worse in most respects.

[peach-jam-on-toast]

Ok tangentially related to Neverafter, I saw this post last night at 3/4 in the morning and the idea gripped me like a madness so I have to explain the final product of my thought process from last night to you

Gerard and Gilear are equals, but in different categories; Gilear is pathetic, and Gerard is cringe and there's a difference, lemme explain sksjskd

Gilear's life has just been a normal level and type of sad for most of Fantasy High. He found out his wife cheated on him, they got divorced, he moved out, got fired, was really down on his luck, etc. That's a real thing that real people in the real world experience all the time. So while it is really sad to look at, that very pity for his lack of agency in his life that just keeps getting worse is what makes him pathetic instead of cringe.

Gerard, however, looked down the barrel of the worst choice he could possibly make in any given situation, went "yup, that's good!" and then got a one way ticket to Rock Bottom shoved up his ass because of HIS OWN CHOISES he CHOSE to make. Yes everything is bad because of the Neverafter and yes Murph rolled poorly, but there were a hundred other ways to try and get Elody to see where he was coming from. Murph chose to do that, you can see the same cackling horror of watching a train about to crash on his face that Lou had during Fabian's bad day.

(memes stop)

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

(character essay starts)

His agency in doing the exact wrong thing is what makes him so cringe that it circles back around to endearing, and I think him being cringe is part of what makes him such a compelling character.

Gilear's life is funny as a bit because he keeps experiencing Looney Tunes levels of misfortune but Gerard's life is interesting because he keeps making these huge, UNWATCHABLE mistakes but every time he does he genuinely learns from it in some way. This isn't someone coming to terms with the fact that everything X person said about why they're bad is true, this is a dude learning to grow up in that slow and painful way adults do. It's messy, and it's bad, and it's frustrating, but it's organic, and fulfilling, and honest, and that's why it's so special to me.

[splishfish]

Toys (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: PiV, Use of Vibrator, Overstimulation, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Pre-Established Relationship, Slight Dacryphilia

WC: 1.5k

"C’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

Sex with Tomura is amazing. Truly, it really is! Although he can be very rough in bed, he’ll always make sure your comfortable and enjoying yourself. If you ask him to change positions, he’ll always shuffle around just for you, even if he’s grumbling under his breath about how needy you are.

He’s an amazing partner in bed. Really…it’s just that…

More than half the time, he can never make you cum during sex.

That doesn’t mean the sex isn't good! No, of course not! It’s amazing! His cock curves so sweetly into your hot cunny, rubbing up into that squishy spot just a few inches deep inside you. And he loves to pound into you like his life depends on it, his heavy balls slapping against your ass / clit depending on your position, and his fingers so tenderly rub against your aching clit, causing your sweet little pussy to clench around him…

But it’s never enough

In the end, once he finishes, he’d have to use his long slender fingers to plunge inside you, desperately finger fucking you into oblivion until you cum. He doesn’t care if you cry and sob against his fingers, begging ‘Please! No more! ‘s too much!’  with your sweet little voice, he’s determined to make you cum.

Whenever you fail to cum during sex, he always seems so grumpy. So mad and upset at himself for failing you. It’s gotten so bad that he’d even end up scratching at his poor neck until it bleeds, beating himself up for disappointing you. All of this makes your heart ache, and eventually, you bring up the prospect of using toys during the bedroom.

When you first bring this up, he stays silent during the conversation, his mind whirring with different thoughts.

Were you seriously thinking of replacing him for some silicone dick? Was he not enough? Were you that unhappy with your sex lives? Would you break up with him? How fucking dare you try and replace him?! He was going to fucking kill-

Before his thoughts delved deeper into hatred and despair you quickly explained to him that no, this wasn’t a way to replace him, and that you were happy with your sex life. The conversation lasted a long time, the both of you sharing your opinions and thoughts on the matter.

Tomura was blunt about his thoughts on the matter. He refused to let you bring any dildo’s or toys that would require any sort of insertion into the bedroom. No, that was his job, only he belonged deep inside your weeping cunt, not some plastic toy.

He also didn’t want any toys to be used on him either. He was already upset about bringing in toys to begin with, so even bringing up using toys on him would cause him to start scratching his neck.

Eventually, the both of you reached a conclusion. You’d go out together, and buy whatever toy would suit his merit and your needs. 

When the day finally came to go shopping, you were absolutely buzzing with excitement! Not only would you be able to go shopping for something for your sex lives, but also you’d be able to spend time and help Tomura understand your needs.

Entering the sex shop hand in hand, you dragged Tomura towards the first few toys you saw, holding them up and explaining their function to him. At first, he didn’t really pay attention, his eyes darting throughout the store, his body stiff and his hands constantly coming up to tug the black hoodie further down his face.

You weren’t too sure if he was embarrassed, or maybe paranoid of being recognized, but eventually he managed to calm down enough to actually help you browse throughout the store. He scowled at every dildo or phallic item you passed, and he even spent a few seconds gazing at the wall of monster dildos in the corner.

For a moment, he imagined you struggling to take such a monstrous cock, and how your pretty little cunny would squelch and cry at such a big size. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away.

Eventually, after spending around an hour or so of browsing, you both decided on what you thought was the most basic purchase, yet best item you could have gotten. A hitachi wand.

As you two warped back, you spent the first few hours unpacking and letting the wand charge completely. Once it was finished, you took it back to Tomura’s room, holding it up like a prized possession as you spoke.

“Let’s try it out now!”

As you laid on your back, your legs spread wide as Tomura stood between them, his cock sliding between your puffy folds. Your slick mixed with his pre, your body buzzing with lust and excitement. Tomura grabbed the base of his cock, slowly sliding it down your slit until the tip of his cock nudged your eager hole.

You sighed in relief as he slowly pushed in, the head of his cock sliding in with a small squelch as you reached over the bed to grab the vibrator. You could see his lips twitch into a small frown, but he didn’t comment on your actions as he bottomed out.

Once you felt the familiar slide of his cock moving inside you, you turned on the vibrator, the buzzing noise causing his hips to stutter as he pulled back far enough to watch you place the bulbous head against your clit.

Instantly, a breathy curse escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked up in response to the intense vibrations against your needy bud. You could hear Tomura whimper from above you, his hips beginning to move as he spoke.

“Oh fuck…I-I can feel it even when i’m inside you…”

From above, Tomura felt chills of pleasure run down his spine. Everytime he moved, he could feel his cock buzzing from the pleasure, and everytime he pulled out far enough, the force of the vibrations would go straight to his tip. He groaned, his cock twitching as he moved faster, your slick causing his light blue pubes to stick together, a small string connecting the both of your bodies every time he moved away.

You could feel your pussy begin to drool, your tits bouncing with every hard thrust of his hips. His grunts became louder from above you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs, the plush flesh pooling out of his fingers as he rammed himself deeper into you.

“Fuck…you feel so fuckin’ good…hah…so tight, you gonna cum already?”

You didn’t even notice the way your cunt so desperately clung to his cock, the coil in your stomach forming so quickly you could only babble a whiny ‘yes’ as you pressed the vibrating head even harder against your clit.

Your throat burned as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm ripping through you in multiple waves, both the vibrator and his cock drawing it out until you were nearly crying. You pulled the vibrator away from your overstimulated clit, gasping out as he grasped your wrist and forced the toy back against your nub.

You yelped, a searing pain that felt way too good suddenly coursing through you, your body squirming under him as you sobbed in response to his actions.

“No! Aagh! Tom-Tomura! W-wait wait wait! It's too much!”

He giggled from above you, a breathy moan escaping him as his hand pressed the toy against you even harder as he spoke in a dark tone, his hips stuttering against your pulsing cunny.

“Fuckk…feels so good baby…I can feel the vibrator against my cock-shit! Oh god…mhn…just a bit more..!”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling from your face, your clit burning from overstimulation and pain. It felt so painful but with every second the vibrator was held firm on your clit the more you could feel another tight coil forming, ready to burst once again.

But this one was different.

Your legs began to tremble involuntarily, loud sobs escaping your throat as your cunny began pulsing against his cock in an almost painful vice. You didn’t even notice the sudden gush of liquid that squirted out of you, hitting Tomura’s pelvis and forcing his cock out of your gushing hole due to the intense pleasure of your second orgasm.

Tomura groaned in surprise as a sudden force caused his cock to pull away, watching as your sweet little cunny quivered and pulsed as you squirted against him, the strong yet short stream eventually dying down to a dribble, falling onto a pool of your fluids beneath you.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, and only after a few moments of staring, laughter began to bubble up in his chest, leaving his mouth in small manic giggles as he trailed his eyes back to your face.

Oh, what a beautiful sight you were. All sweaty, flushed and wrecked. Fat salty tears escaping your eyes as you shook, small pretty sobs escaping your lips as you laid out all blissed out and messy.

He leaned down to lick the salty tears off your face, his cock pulsing and throbbing with eagerness as he grinded against your sloppy pussy.

“Oh fuck…that was so fucking hot…holy shit..eheh…c’mon…don’t cry…let’s do it again…”

Did you enjoy this? Check out my Masterlist for more!

Requests are open!

[foxtrot91]

sweet like syrup

The batter sizzles as Tommy pours it into the pan, the scent of the pancake batter wafting up and filling Tommy’s senses. Evan is still sleeping in the bedroom, having arrived home late last night after his shift ran over. He’d showered at the station and had practically collapsed onto the bed next to Tommy, barely managing to grunt out a greeting before being pulled under into a deep sleep. From the messages he’d received throughout Evan’s shift, it had been a rough one.

Which is why Tommy is out here now, trying his hand at pancakes made from scratch. He takes a moment to mourn the loss of his store-bought pancake mix that he used to have before Evan had taken one look at it, shot Tommy a look of disgust and declared it sacrilege before tossing it in the trash. So now Tommy has to troll Google for pancake recipes and thank whatever god might exist that Evan has also taken to expanding the ingredients Tommy has on hand even if Tommy barely touches them himself.

The Canadian Pure Maple Syrup has been a wonderful addition, actually, – “Bobby has it shipped in from Montreal, so you know it’s legit.” – and while he wishes he had the convenience of a premade mix to go with it, he accepts the trade-off. He still hasn’t figured out the whole maple syrup grading colour system, however, but he’d enjoyed listening to Evan discuss the merits of each grade and their best uses in the kitchen.

If he’s completely honest, Tommy doesn’t notice much of a difference between the light or dark syrups and is halfway convinced that the Canadian government is involved in a conspiracy with the maple syrup companies to hoodwink Americans into spending more money for their pretentious, robust flavoured syrup. Jokes on them, Tommy decides, because he would’ve bought it regardless of some made-up grading system just for the way Evan lights up whenever Bobby brings over their portion of his latest order. Also, and he is mature enough to admit this– it’s a thousand times better than the thick, artificial table syrup he’d grown up with as a kid.

You win this one, Canada, he thinks, eyeing the can of syrup with the proud maple leaf emblazoned on the label.

He's nearing the end of the batter by the time he hears a faint shuffling coming from the direction of the bedroom. By the time Evan joins him in the kitchen, Tommy has turned off the stove and has moved to set the table with two plates, cutlery, butter – real butter, not the margarine Tommy used to carry which was another quick casualty once Evan had moved in – a stack of pancakes, and of course, the can of syrup.

“You made breakfast?” Evan says, barely suppressing his yawn long enough to get the question out. He’s sleep rumpled, wearing one of Tommy’s slightly too big sweaters and a pair of sweats that he’s yet to tie up, and Tommy knows that if the sweater weren’t hiding it from view, he’d get a delicious peek at the sliver of skin and trail of hair that leads into Evan’s pants.

Small mercies, he thinks, because if it weren’t for the bulk of the sweater, Tommy is certain they wouldn’t make it to breakfast, and he’s spent way too much time putting this together to not eat it with Evan.

“I did,” Tommy says, smiling as he pulls Evan into his arms and gives him a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back. “Thought I’d surprise you… are you surprised?”

“You hate cooking,” Evan says in lieu of an answer, smiling when he looks over at the table. “It smells amazing.”

Laughing, Tommy ushers Evan over to the table and pulls a chair out for him. “Hopefully it tastes just as good,” he says with a wink as Evan sits down.

Tommy takes the seat to his right and serves up the pancakes onto both of their plates. Once adequately buttered and drenched in syrup, they both dig in. They’re definitely not as good as Evan’s – he really should ask him for the recipe he uses – but they’re still good, if Tommy does say so himself. And by the look on Evan’s face, he’d say they’re at least good enough to pass his muster. They’re quiet as they eat, the sounds of their utensils clanging on their plates the only real noises filling the dining room. It’s a comfortable silence, and given Evan’s rough shift the previous night, Tommy imagines it’s a welcome one as well.

Once they finish, Tommy stands to gather their plates, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Evan’s head before he turns to wash up. There’s a certain domesticity to this that Tommy has never felt in any of his previous relationships. Evan isn’t the first boyfriend he’s lived with, not by a longshot, but he’s the first who’s ever made the kind of effort for Tommy that he is. The first to speedrun a sexuality crisis for the sheer fact that it was Tommy he wanted to be with, the first to cook him meals outside of any special occasion just because, and the first to make room for Tommy in every aspect of his life, to seamlessly fit Tommy in amongst the people he values most without a second thought.

He’s the first to make Tommy want to match his effort.

When he finishes cleaning up, he turns back to see Evan staring at him over the back of his chair. His elbow is rested on the back with his chin perched on top and he’s gazing at Tommy in a way that has a warm prickle starting up in his chest.

“What?” Tommy asks as he wipes his hands on the towel hanging off the oven handle.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He trails off, but Tommy doesn’t try to interject. “Nobody’s ever made me breakfast before.”

That can’t be true.

“What about Bobby?”

“That-he doesn’t count,” Evan says, like it should be obvious. “I mean like… in a relationship.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, a little stunned at the thought. Evan has had many partners; surely at least one of them would’ve–

“Yeah,” he says, smiling as he stands from the chair to join Tommy where he’s standing near the counter. “Usually it’s me,” he waves a hand vaguely towards the counter before looking back to Tommy. “It was nice, being on the other side for once.”

“Well, you better get used to it,” Tommy says, “Because I’ve got Google at my fingertips and a whole host of new ingredients, kitchen appliances, and fancy pots and pans at my disposal.” Evan laughs, ducking his head at the reminder of how absolutely batshit insane he’d gone overhauling Tommy’s kitchen when he’d moved in. “I hope you’re prepared for a lot of terrible meals,” he adds, because cooking the kinds of meals Evan is capable of has never been in his wheelhouse. Pancakes are about as good as it gets. Evan giggles and shakes his head, shoving lightly at Tommy’s shoulder in response.

God, he thinks, I fucking loves this man.

“I love you,” Evan says, eyes bright.

I love you too. He thinks it; goes to say it in return as he takes in the bright blue of Evan’s eyes.

“I want to marry you,” is what comes out instead.

Evan’s eyes go wide as saucers and Tommy has a split second to think – fuck fuck fuck… before landing on, fuck it. – as Evan sputters in shock, “T-Tommy, you can’t mean-”

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer,” he says on a slightly panicked breath, “I had it all planned out for our trip next month.”

“Wait, what trip?”

“It was going to be a surprise, Bobby put the PTO in for you,” this was the one piece that Tommy had been somewhat anxious about, but Eddie had been adamant that Evan would be very much on board with Tommy’s surprise. “I’m flying us out to a private lodge a buddy of mine owns. Just you, me, and a whole lot of forest to hike through.”

“Fuck,” Evan says, eyes wide in disbelief and Tommy feels a curl of anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach. He can’t help worrying that he’s stepped wrong here, that maybe it’s too soon. Sure they’ve been together for nearly two years now but really, what’s two years in the grand scheme of things– “Yes.”

Tommy’s brain goes abruptly offline as he processes, “What?” he asks, like an idiot.

“Yes, I will marry you,” Evan is grinning, chest shaking with barely suppressed laughter as his arms loop around Tommy’s neck and tug him in for a bruising kiss.

Groaning as they pull away, Tommy lets out a dry chuckle, “I had a whole plan,” he laments, shaking his head.

Evan isn’t having it; he takes Tommy’s face in his hands and draws him in for another heated kiss before pulling back. “Whether in some private lodge or here in our kitchen, my answer is still the same,” he says, and Tommy feels breathless.

“God I fucking love you,” he confesses, resting his forehead against Evan’s, noses brushing together.

“I know,” Evan says, and then, eyes sparkling with a little bit of mischief; “Wanna find out if engagement sex is better than normal, living-together sex?”

Tommy doesn’t have time to answer in the affirmative before Evan’s mouth is on his again, his lips still sweet with maple syrup. He feels a hand snake up his shirt as they start maneuvering towards the bedroom, losing articles of clothing along the way. He has more words to say, a whole speech he’d planned out that would show Evan just how much he means to Tommy. He’ll say them sometime, later, he thinks, when the desperation has worn off and they’re laying in the afterglow, sated, and happy.

Ao3

[rose-maidenn]

Destiny swapping among mars nakshatras

What is destiny swapping ?

The interchange of your life course with someone else , generally occurs when someone close to you tries to copy you to the point of exchanging fame and popularity and your talents , you lose your position and feel drained while the swapper gains more and more .

Generally occurs when people with bad intentions have too much access to you .

For more info watch this by Chokoladka ✨️

Some of the widely known examples of destiny swapping are

Aaliyah and Beyonce, Paris and Kim

In both the cases Aaliyah and paris ( both Dhanistha natives ) were destiny swapped by Beyonce and Kim ( both Chitra natives) .

Dhanisthas have the khyapayitri shakti to gain game and abundance so that is very natural to them , people being jealous too , dhanisthas have to be careful about the people around them . In case of Chitra they have punya chayani shakti to achieve good merit , use this power to create the best in art like Vishwakarma himself .

Apart from celebrity cases even in real life I have observed this in case of Aries ( mars sign) natives , the other girl was getting too close to my friend was adopting her clothes her vocabulary and her energy , slowly my friend was feeling bounded by her , by God's grace she recognized the thing and moved away from the other girl.

In case of Chitra swapping with Dhanistha it's like the Martian restlessness in case of Chitra, Dhanisthas experience the height of mars , if a Chitra native isn't well knowledgeable they will do it intentionally or unintentionally, my advice is to be careful and knowledgeable and avoid such circumstances because all of us have our unique Destiny.

Apart from in case of mars nakhatras and signs this can also happen in case of Sagittarius natives with Sagittarius natives ( Purva ashadha, uttara ashadha and mula ) so please be careful .

Destiny swappers get to know you by being close to you and ultimately swap , cause loss of popularity or being astry from your true path

To be away from destiny swappers maintain discrepancy and choose your closed ones carefully .

🫶Thanks for reading

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

Warden: You've never killed an innocent?

Zevran: Now there's an interesting word, "innocent." How many men do you know who can claim to be truly innocent?

Zevran: But if you're talking generalities, such as children and relatives and bystanders and such… never on purpose, but it happens.

Zevran: It's unfortunate, but death comes to us all. If not me, then some wasting disease. Or a fall down the stairs. Or at the hands of a darkspawn. It's all relative in the end.

Zevran: "Death happens," as we like to say. And when I get paid for it, death happens more often.

-

Zevran: In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women… and men, or whatever it is you might fancy.

Zevran: But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It's a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty. But confining.

-

Davrin: Lucanis, how do you decide when one of your targets deserves to die?

Lucanis: Usually when the client pays up front.

Davrin: I'm serious. Do you just kill anyone?

Lucanis: No. There has to be merit.

Davrin: "Merit?" Who decides that?

Lucanis: The Talon of the house.

Davrin: And then you just carry out the order?

Lucanis: It's my job.

Davrin: Must be tough to sleep at night.

-

Lucanis: You kill for a living, too, Davrin. How do you sleep at night?

Davrin: Like a baby. The things I hunt are pure evil. Monsters. There are no shades of grey with darkspawn. But you...

Lucanis: Provide a service.

Davrin: What if your target doesn't deserve to die?

Lucanis: Who does? Good, bad, everyone dies eventually. We just speed things up.

-

Emmrich: Do you have any say in your... targets?

Lucanis: You want to know if my victims deserved it.

Emmrich: Forgive me, I shouldn't have asked.

Lucanis: Everyone wonders.

Lucanis: I've never killed an innocent, by my count.

Lucanis: I cannot say if yours would agree.

-

Emmrich: Lucanis, do the implications of your work never trouble you?

Lucanis: Everyone on this team has killed before. I'm hardly unique.

Emmrich: Yes, of course. But in your case, it's a profession, rather than an act of necessity.

Lucanis: I'm not sure the Venatori or the Antaam see the distinction as you do.

-

Emmrich: I find it extremely interesting, Lucanis, that you consider the point of view of your enemies in battle.

Lucanis: I have to. It's much more difficult to find and kill them, otherwise.

Emmrich: Exactly! A utilitarian attitude towards death, and yet you extend empathy to your victims.

Lucanis: Not that much empathy.

Emmrich: Enough to wonder how the Venatori and Antaam view your actions.

Lucanis: Death comes to everyone, in time. I get paid to deliver it. Like a letter not everyone wants to read.

-

I think about this a lot. I'm always... surprised when I see the talk that they're supposedly trying to make Lucanis into the perfect "cinnamon roll" in Veilguard, because his sweet personality doesn't "match" his profession and background. Like, no? That's a very surface level of looking at it, I think.

Zevran is like this, too. He is an incredibly chill guy, and when you romance him, he is also very sweet and vulnerable, despite being an assassin. They're not that different in that department. They were both trained to be assassins since they were children. They're both traumatized in various ways. But neither of them acts like a bloodthirsty, evil freak. But they both also take pride in the job they do (or did), and how well they can do it, and have no intention of stopping. And yet they both express surprising empathy. (Zevran argues against annulling the Circle! Quite extensively!) And they make pretty much the exact same arguments about being killers for hire, as shown above.

Death is a natural part of life. Sometimes it just comes sooner, because we're there to deliver it. There's (almost) no such thing as an innocent person, so my victims aren't innocent people. Therefore, I've never killed an innocent in my entire life, as far as I know. (At least not intentionally.)

And that's interesting and fun about them! It's beautifully deranged. Lucanis completes an assassination mission, slitting somebody's throat or what have you, and then goes on his cosy coffee break, satisfied with a job well done.

The fact that they both say that they've never, in their opinion, assassinated "an innocent", so it's all good, doesn't automatically make it true and doesn't mean it's not complicated, however. Not every line of dialogue can be taken at face value. As video game players, we're rather desensitized to this, but hearing this should normally be at least a little alarming. For a regular person, at least. And it is for the people in the game! Like Emmrich and Davrin. Davrin has several banters with Lucanis about it. Like, who decides when somebody deserves to die and which contract's going to get carried out? Well, the "CEO" of "the company," of course! What could ever go wrong that way? Emmrich tries to coax Lucanis into saying that he does feel something about the whole thing, because he really wants it to be true. While Lucanis is very matter of fact about it. He knows what the Crows are, and that's it. He doesn't glamorize or demonize it.

So, it definitely isn't that "Veilguard says that Lucanis has never done anything wrong ever in his life," just like Origins doesn't do it with Zevran. Both the men's attitude towards killing is warped in an interesting way, completely in line with their background and upbringing. It shows when Lucanis argues with Davrin about them both being killers, because it completely escapes him (or maybe he ignores it for the sake of the argument) how the killing he does (contracts where the targets tend to be people) and the killing Davrin (a monster hunter, a darkspawn slayer) does is of different kind entirely. His logic is flawed at that point. But to him, it boils down to the fact that "it's just a job," and "killing is killing," and "death is death" regardless of form, and that rightfully baffles Davrin to no end. If anything, it shows how the Antivan Crows are taught to hand wave the issue, because the arguments Lucanis and Zevran both present are too similar to be anything else.

Of course, Lucanis, unlike Zevran, as the grandson of the First Talon and her favourite, might have had some extra privileges and wiggle space in comparison, which might have allowed him to bend the rules sometimes, give him space to show more compassion and act more heroically, because people are complex and there are many layers to what each person might consider right and wrong (e.g. killing is okay in various circumstances, and slavers in particular can get fucked - hell, we do it in video games all the time), but still. The fact that his grandmother wanted to tap a new market, so she made Lucanis specialize for hunting mages, which ultimately led to him killing a lot of Venatori and blood mages, makes it cleaner, which is nice, but then again, we hardly know the full extent of all his work. Moreover, when you ask Zevran to tell you stories about his jobs, you don't get much dirt out of him, either. He talks about some of the goofiest ones he's had. One of his targets that he (unsuccessfully) participated in taking out, a royal that got his position through plotting and murder, he also describes as somebody so immoral he basically deserved it. Also very clean. (Compare both these guys with somebody like Blackwall who truly committed a despicable act of murder for money that we do know of. And this single crime sounds so much more upsetting than anything either Lucanis or Zevran describe. None of the things Zevran says is as awful, besides the murder of his lover, which is framed like it wasn't really his fault, because he was misled.)

It's also worth noting that Zevran talks about how he was the best the Crows had before he left and how it brought him respect, wealth, women, men, or "whatever it is you might fancy." All in all, it comes with benefits. By his own admission, he was well off. But of course that came with a catch, as well. The "gilded cage" Zevran talks about. But that's not what made him leave. It was the plotting, backstabbing, and ever present distrust in the end, which led to the biggest mistake he'd ever made. Much like him, Lucanis also mentions that he had a comfortable life before getting captured, in the same quest where he also talks about how he didn't actually have full control of his life. ("Even before I was captured, my life was not really my own. So much had been determined for me.") The gilded cage comes up yet again. And it was plotting and backstabbing that made him lose a year of his life in the underwater prison.

My point is: Lucanis and Zevran are both assassins, because that's what they've always been, they were trained to be assassins since they were kids, they have a very pragmatic approach to death and killing, which they were most likely taught or perhaps were forced to develop, and they both take pride in how good they are at their job, and express no intention of ever stopping. And yet they both show that they have a good heart in various other ways, turn out to be friendly and incredibly loyal, and even very sweet as lovers. Because people can be complex, and so can be fictional characters. Yes, they're very different men, with different problems and personalities, yet also not that different.

You can't think that Lucanis is "too good" without also thinking that Zevran is "too good." You can't have this problem with Veilguard unless you also have it with Origins, is what I'm saying. And I think this may also apply to some of the other Crows we meet in Veilguard.

[writeforfandoms]

Let It Snow

Find my John Price masterlist

This is for @glitterypirateduck winter challenge! I took inspiration from the song Let It Snow, because who wouldn't want to use this man as a source of warmth. Really.

John Price is your neighbor. Just your friendly neighbor. Nothing more.

At least, until the heat in your flat dies.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, sweetness overload, really this is all just cute and fluff.

Word count: 2.5k

You still weren't quite sure how you'd fallen into this thing with John Price. You'd moved in to the flat next to his, the shared wall between the two of you giving you only hints of his life. Mostly, there was silence. 

But sometimes there was the rumbling of a deep, lovely voice. Singing. The muted sounds of a TV. Music. 

The first time you talked to him, you were coming back from a date that had ended badly. You still weren't sure whether to be angry or upset, and had settled on some potent mixture of the two. 

John Price was standing outside, shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows, heedless of the chill of the evening. He nodded once to you, gaze sweeping over you. 

“Evening,” he greeted, neutral pleasant. 

“Hi.” You managed a smile. “Haven't had the chance to introduce myself yet.” You held out a hand to him, giving him your name. 

“John Price.” He shook your hand, firm but not painful. Quick. 

“Nice to finally meet you.” You glanced beyond him to your door, the temptation to cry rising as upset won over anger. “Hate to run, but…” 

“Of course.” He stepped back, out of the way. “Have a good night.” 

You bit your tongue to keep the bitter words trapped, simply nodding to him before stepping past him. Your hands only shook a little as you unlocked your door and stepped inside. 

You kept your emotions to yourself until you showered, hot as you could stand. Then you allowed yourself some release. 

After that, it became much more common to see him, at least when he was home. You passed him frequently when you came home, and once or twice he rescued you by getting the door when you had bags of groceries. 

The two of you circled each other, pleasant and friendly and not much else. 

Despite his charm, despite his kindness, despite his obvious good looks… you couldn't believe anything more. He was friendly, and that was all. He was neighborly, and that was all. 

Even if he was good-looking. Even if the way he looked at you made you both self-conscious and want to preen. Even if you developed a little crush on him despite your best intentions. 

And you held on to those thoughts all the way up until your heater broke. 

You stood in the middle of your flat, shivering, bundled up in layers and silently cursing the snow outside. And cursing the landlord, who promised he'd get the heater fixed… in a couple days. Three, or maybe four. But you'd be fine, right? 

Which left you seething and debating the merits of buying a space heater, if you could find one. It was late in the season, but maybe you'd be lucky… 

The knock on your door startled you, and you about jumped out of your skin. Who…? Frowning, you stepped forward slowly, hands trembling from the cold and nerves. 

John Price stood outside your door, arms crossed loosely in front of his chest. 

“John?” You blinked at him. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, might be able to help you.” He scratched at the hair on his jaw, brilliant blue eyes holding you captive as easily as breathing. “Heard something ‘bout your heater through the wall.”

You warmed, ducking your head briefly, even though you knew you had nothing to be ashamed of. “Ah. Heard that, huh?” You huffed a little laugh, shaking your head. “Sorry, I forget how thin these walls are sometimes.” 

“Don't fret,” John assured you. “I'd offer to take a crack at your heater but I might make it worse.” 

You smiled, torn between amusement and embarrassment. “It's fine, I think I'll just go find a space heater.” 

John paused, not moving from your doorway, one hand hooked at the collar of his shirt, gaze fixed on you. “Or,” he offered slowly, weighing each word as he spoke. “You can stay at mine.” 

You blinked. Twice. “...Beg pardon?” You must have misunderstood him. There was no way–

“I've got a second bedroom,” he said, shrugging, like it was nothing. Like it was that easy. “You're welcome to it. Be awful cold without heat.” 

You swallowed. That was… a lot. And far too generous. “I couldn't, that's too kind.” 

His lips quirked in a smile, the first real one you'd seen from him. “Yes you can,” he countered. “It's just a few days, yeah? Won't bother me, I wouldn't have offered otherwise.” 

You bit your lip, torn. It would be warmer to stay with him, and cheaper. “Are you sure?” 

“I'm sure.” He even nodded for emphasis, holding your gaze. 

“Okay.” You breathed in slowly. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” 

“Gather up whatever you need,” he said, something pleased in the tilt of his lips. “Just knock when you're ready.” 

“Thanks.” You waited until he stepped back and turned towards his own door to close your door.

Not that it helped at all with the temperature. 

Clenching your jaw and trying not to think about it, you grabbed a bag and some clothes. You weren't going to impose on him any more than necessary - you'd come back to shower and take care of your own things. And you'd be fine at work. 

Your first knock on the door was tentative, almost too soft. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, a little anxious. You knew enough about John Price to trust that he wasn't a crazy murderer, or anything like that. He'd always been friendly. 

You were mostly sure you could trust him. 

The door opened, warmth spilling out over your half-frozen fingers. John had shed his jacket, leaving him in a soft-looking shirt that clung to his chest in ways you tried not to notice. 

“C'mon in.” He stepped out of the way, ushering you in. You couldn't help but shiver as the warmth of his flat cocooned you, your skin tingling where it was exposed. “Bedroom's this way.” 

You followed him quietly, though you couldn't help but look around curiously. The flat was sparse but clean, walls mostly bare. Simple furniture in the main room, very little decoration. 

It felt a little impersonal… except for the book on the couch, the couple dishes in the sink. 

John led you back to the bedroom, nodding you inside. The bed was made up all in pale blue, with an extra blanket folded at the foot of the bed. Honestly, this was better hospitality than you'd gotten from some family members. 

“Thank you, really.” You paused in the doorway, still clutching your bag. 

He smiled again, easy as anything. “My pleasure. Get warmed up, I've got the kettle on.” 

You couldn't help but smile at his retreating back. He was too kind. 

It didn't take long to warm up enough to be comfortable, and you even shed a layer to be more comfortable. “Should I keep my shoes on?” You called from the doorway, uncertain. You couldn't recall if he'd been wearing any. 

“Nah, leave ‘em.” 

You kicked your shoes off but left your socks, padding out to the kitchen to a charmingly domestic scene. John stood with one hip leaned against the counter, mug in one big hand, another steaming gently in front of him. He was also wearing socks, thick gray ones.

“Got milk and sugar, if you'd like.” He nodded to the mug to be clear what he meant. 

“Thanks.” You fixed your cuppa and clutched it between your hands, fingers tingly-hot as they finally fully thawed. “Can I at least treat you to dinner?” 

He tipped his head down a little, smiling. “Won’t say no to that,” he murmured. 

Discussing food was surprisingly easy with him. He seemed happy to go along with whatever you wanted, although true to his word he didn't argue with you about paying. 

The first night passed easily, with bits of conversation between the two of you. You caught him looking at you more than once, something soft in his gaze. Like he couldn't believe you were here.

You warmed under that gentle gaze, the little embers you'd tried to smother in your heart catching and trying to grow. 

Two days passed in the same kind of ease. His flat was bigger than yours, and set up backwards as far as you were concerned. The second time you opened a door expecting the loo and got the linen closet you swore loudly. John just laughed at you, leading to a round of playful bickering. 

(“It's not my fault that this is all backwards!”

“Well perhaps if you looked before you opened the door you'd realize it was on the wrong side.”

“Perhaps if this place was oriented correctly I wouldn't have to.”) 

The two of you got along quite well, better than you'd expected. Better than you'd ever hoped. The ease with which the two of you conversed fanned the little flames secreted in your heart. 

The fourth morning was clear and cold, faint light coming through the window in your room. You dressed, even more glad to be in John's nice warm flat when a perfunctory look out the window showed snow still falling. 

“Morning,” John greeted you, flashing you a smile, hair still a little rumpled from sleep. You tried not to be charmed. 

(It didn't work, you were hopelessly charmed by him.) 

“Good morning.” You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. “How long have you been up?” 

“Couple hours. Tea?” 

You hummed your assent, though you drifted to the kitchen window to look outside. Snow drifted down in fat flakes, languidly coating the world in white. “How long has it been coming down?”

“Started in the middle of the night.” John pulled out the mug you were beginning to think of as yours. “Don't have to go anywhere today, do you?”

“Fortunately, no.” You shivered at the thought of having to go out in the cold. You kind of hated when it got this cold - the snow was pretty but ice made for treacherous commutes to work. “You?”

“No.” The mug clinked as he set it next to you. “Got everything I need here.” 

You turned, just catching the tail end of his teasing little smile as he stepped back. You blinked at him but didn't push, not quite sure if you wanted to know. 

Tea was perfect to keep you warm, and you settled near John. He shifted enough to press his knee to yours, and you just relaxed into it. 

He'd gotten you used to little touches over the last few days, and you didn't quite want to admit how much you loved it. 

“Care to make a day of it, then?”

You blinked at John, curious. “What do you have in mind?” 

“We could watch that movie you've been wanting to watch.” John's lips twitched in amusement. “More tea. Order in for lunch.” 

“You're going to spoil me,” you teased, although you were only half teasing. 

“Only if I'm doing it right.” He smirked, watching you as you ducked your head, fiddling with your mug. 

“You don't have to, you know.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, gripping your mug a little tighter so you wouldn't fidget with it. 

“What if I want to?” He tipped his head a little, watching you, blue eyes intense. 

You warmed under that look but resisted the urge to hide. “Well… that would be a different story.” 

Emboldened by your reaction, John moved closer, his thigh now pressed against the length of yours. “I'd like to spoil you for longer than just the few days it takes to get your heater fixed.” 

“Would you really?” You blinked at him, a little incredulous and a fair bit flattered. 

“I would.” One of his hands landed over yours, big and warm and calloused. “Would you let me?”

You swallowed. Part of you wanted to say yes, wanted to bask in the warmth of him, wanted to give in. But you were scared. There were so many things that could go wrong… 

“I don't know,” you whispered, your fingers curling under John's. “I could try.” 

“That's all I ask.” He leaned a little closer to you, so close he could probably feel the thump of your heart. “Just need to talk to me, hm? Tell me if anything is too much.” 

You nodded, swallowing, eyes wide as he held your gaze. “Okay.” 

“Good.” He backed off again, slowly pushing to his feet. “Go get the movie set up, I've got tea handled.” 

You blinked, feeling almost bereft as he stepped away. But you shook the feeling off, instead going to the couch to set up the movie. 

It only occurred to you long minutes later, when John brought your tea fixed how you liked, that you'd gotten very comfortable here very quickly. But so had John. He'd learned your preferences faster than you'd expected. 

“Warm enough?” He asked, voice a low purr as he settled next to you. 

“Yeah,” you answered, which was mostly true. Your feet were chilly, but that was manageable. 

He eyed you for a moment, and you had the feeling he knew exactly what you didn't say. But he didn't say a word, just grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over your lap, fussing over you in a way totally foreign to you. 

Foreign… but nice. 

Halfway through the movie John paused it to discuss lunch. You ended up not ordering in - snow was coming down harder now, a thick coating of white obscuring streets and sidewalks. Neither of you wanted to go out, or force anyone else out. 

“We'll find something here,” you said with a shrug, unconcerned. “I've got food at mine, too.” 

John hummed, one arm settling around your waist. “Could do cheese toasties.” 

“Are you offering to cook for me?” You couldn't help your smile, or the way you leaned in closer to him. 

“Can’t make anything fancy,” he murmured, smile small but warm. “But I can do this.” 

That smile finally did you in. You kissed him. Nothing more than a brief press of your lips to his, just enough to feel the warmth and pressure, the gentle scratch of facial hair. He looked a little stunned when you pulled back… for all of two seconds. Before he kissed you again, one big hand cupping your cheek. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered when he pulled back, scant space between the two of you. 

“More than,” you assured him, hands resting against his chest. 

He hummed, the sound vibrating against your hands, and kissed you again. 

If this is what him spoiling you looked like… Well. You could get used to this. 

Even if it kept snowing like this. You weren't worried about being cold anymore. 

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Leona Kingscholar - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Leona: Who'd've thought I'd get to lay my eyes on paintings that I've only ever seen in artbooks like this…?

Leona: That's the Land of Dawning's National Museum of Art, for ya. This'll probably be good for perusing.

???: Heey, the King of Beasts's got a great lookin' mug in this painting.

Floyd: I wonder what's goin' on? Oh hey, Sea Lion-senpai, you tell me.

Leona: Huh? Why should I have to explain anything to you?

Floyd: 'Cause you're right here. But hey, if you don't know nothin' about it, that's cool too?

Leona: Tch… Fine, whatever, just don't start something annoying. You better get lost after this.

Leona: In order for him to establish his ideal nation, he required cooperation from the hyenas…

Leona: Once he came to that conclusion, he himself went to where the hyenas lived in order to negotiate with them.

Leona: There, he spoke at length as to how he could best utilize their strengths and abilities. This painting depicts that scene.

Floyd: Uh-huh. 'N so, what'd the hyenas do? They just went along with what the King of Beasts said without causin' a fuss?

Leona: The hyenas were already pretty hated. And the king was offering a trusted position directly under him.

Leona: It was a tremendous boon for the hyenas, from their perspective. So, of course they took him up on his offer.

Leona: He didn't let what society thought of them sway him, instead he gave jobs to each hyena as what suited their individual abilities…

Leona: This single moment shows just how accomplished the King of Beasts was as a ruler.

Floyd: You think so? I know I wouldn't like having someone sizin' me up and choosing what I gotta do～

Leona: It's the same with sports, ain't it?

Leona: Imagine having a good shooter stuck on defense, or a spindly guy on offense…

Leona: If the team goes along with a coach that gives asinine directions like that, they'd lose even the easiest of matches.

Leona: That goes for both you all in the basketball club, as well as us in the Spelldrive club.

Leona: Anyone can be useful, even if they don't have the constitution or strength.

Leona: For example, if you got a guy who's got nimble fingers, you just gotta put 'em where they can steal the ball or disc from the opponent.

Leona: Then, you use someone who can stay in control of game and send them towards the goal.

Leona: There's no need to have everyone rushing around the field. Any number of tactics can be used to score goals.

Floyd: I get what you're sayin, sure, but whaddya do if your teammates don't listen to what you say?

Floyd: See, I don’t like doin' anything if it's boring, y'know. There's tons of times I get bored in the middle of a basketball game, too.

Leona: Heheh. What, they not giving you any rewards over there in the basketball club?

Floyd: Eh, you saying the Spelldrive club gets somethin' for winning?

Leona: That's right. We get the finest reward one could ask for:

Leona: Victory.

Leona: Our club runs on the merit system. Anyone who can't show their worth during a match gets dropped from the starting team…

Leona: But with just a bit of effort, anyone can get their chance in the spotlight and even find their names on the lips of people outside this academy.

Leona: Plus, this school throws a lot of support towards the Spelldrive team, so even certain grades can be overlooked from time to time.

Leona: Essentially that means each one of our victories matter much more than any of the other athletic clubs' wins.

Floyd: Hmmm… I thought you guys in the Spelldrive club were a bunch of try-hards, so I didn't think I'd like it, but I'm likin' the sound of that merit system.

Floyd: Maybe I'll join the Spelldrive club too. Don'tcha think I'd be great at it?

Leona: No way, absolutely not. …Also, how long you plannin' on following me? I'm already done explaining things, hurry up and leave me alone, already.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Floyd: Mmkay, next. What's this painting?

Leona: [sigh]… This painting's showing the Thorn Fairy's men all celebrating their master's endeavors.

Floyd: They're, what… dancing around a green fire? Looks kinda like a campfire! Bet they're havin' fun～

Leona: True, they look pretty carefree. Seems like the Thorn Fairy's subordinates don't mind doin' menial tasks.

Floyd: Menial tasks…? Oh, right, there's a ton of cleanup to do after making a fire, or something like that, huh.

Leona: An astute observation, little merling. I'd expect nothing less from someone so naïve in the intricacies of fire.

Leona: Here on the surface, even the smallest flame can grow into a blaze with a little mismanagement.

Leona: Especially in places where the air is dryer… like where I come from in the Sunset Savanna.

Leona: It's not that bad during the rainy season, but there's gotta be extra caution thrown to the wind during dry season. As a precaution, we've enacted regular fire drills.

Floyd: Uh-huuuh. Didja do those fire drills too, Sea Lion-senpai?

Leona: Yeah. Like I said, fire can be a matter of life or death in my country. That's why those fire drills are essential services.

Leona: It's a pain, but the royal family's gotta do it, to set a good example for our people.

Leona: Since a majority of the country get together to observe, it's basically just another huge traditional event at this point.

Leona: Although… Let's just say there's been times that I've had other things on my plate that I completely forgot to take part.

Floyd: Mhhmm… And so, what all do ya do during those drills?

Leona: To be perfectly frank, it's basically getting practice in with handling water. A buncha people'll hold onto a large hose and put out a huge fire in real time.

Floyd: Wow, that's lamer than I thought. Doesn't sound like much fun to just watch happen.

Leona: Oh, not at all. It's not so bad if you're just there to watch it go down.

Floyd: Eh, whyzzat?

Leona: Because they get to witness the glorious scene of the royal family being tossed around by a giant hose.

Leona: You might think that'll invigorate the gathered public, seeing how willing we are to risk their life for the country…

Leona: But if you ask me, I think there's something more to it.

Leona: People can see them in regal attire caked in dirt, and their miserable faces all swollen from the smoke in their eyes…

Leona: They can even see those well-groomed manes completely sopping wet and pathetic. I bet it bring a gleam of joy to them all, heh.

Floyd: Heh, Sea Lion-senpai, I see right through you. You say you'd sometimes forget, but you def haven't been takin' part in it for a while, haven'tcha?

Leona: Well now, who can say?

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Floyd: Hey, I think this is a painting of when the Sorcerer of the Sands got his hands on a magic lamp.

Floyd: He looks like he's havin' the time of his life. Most of the Sorcerer's paintings are of him lookin' real smart and proper, so this one's kinda cool and different.

Leona: This tale is of one where he finally achieved his heart's desire after a long and difficult journey. No wonder he'd be ecstatic.

Floyd: You mean he worked super hard for that single lamp? Bet all the trouble he went through to get there was fun, at least.

Floyd: It's boring if you can just easily snag something you want. The more you want something, the more it's worth tryin' to get it.

Leona: Makes sense to me. So what, when I saw you slackin' off the other day, that was you trying your darndest to get class credit, or something?

Floyd: You're one to talk. 'Specially since you skip class waaaay more than I do.

Floyd: Wait, so you were in the botanical garden then too, huh. You shoulda said something, we coulda been skiving buddies～

Leona: Unlike you, I ain't all that impressed with conversation. I was taking a snooze in the tree shade.

Leona: I'd just found a good place to get some shut-eye, I ain't looking to waste time on idle prattle.

Leona: I prefer a quieter, cooler, more comfortable place…

Leona: Now, that would be a place worth sleepin' in.

Floyd: Ahah, that's some stuff to be picky about when you're just plannin' on sleeping there.

Leona: I ain't asking for much. At the very least, all I need is for you to not be there.

Leona: Trying to sleep somewhere noisy'll affect my sleep quality.

Floyd: What, you saying there's different types of sleep, now? Doesn't seem like where or how ya sleep really changes anything to me.

Leona: I am much more of a delicate being than you are, is all. If the quality of my sleep ain't pristine, then it'll slow down my thinking processes.

Leona: I ain't gonna be happy if I can't be quick on my feet and some conniving sneak tries to get the better of me.

Leona: At the very least, I make sure to increase the quality of sleep I can get in my room by taking precautions.

Floyd: Huh, like what?

Leona: I'd roll out a rug under my bed, for one. Even just doin' that'll keep the noise coming from the floor below to a minimum.

Leona: You got all the freshmen, four to a room. There's fighting and arguing over their personal space almost on a daily basis.

Leona: And it wouldn't do 'em any good if I were to intervene on their behalf every time they got in a tussle, right?

Leona: That's why I try a buncha different things to help keep the volume down. It's for all our sakes.

Floyd: You say it's for your underclassmen, but you're just doin' it to get some nappin' in.

Leona: Oh me, oh my. How absolutely wretched that you cannot even see just how loving and kind of an upperclassman I am.

Floyd: Uh-huh, sure… Anyway, I'm gettin' bored lookin' at all these paintings. I think I'll go look around elsewhere.

[Floyd leaves]

Leona: Yeah, yeah, get outta my sight already. Geez, his attention turns on a dime. Whatever, I guess I'll also… Hm?

Leona: This artwork depicts the scene where the King of Lions introduces his newly born cub to his people. Well now, what an absolutely cheerful looking spectacle.

Leona: When their belief in a future filled with hope is suddenly overtaken by despair…

Leona: I feel like I would be able to say this from the bottom of my heart: …Long live the king.

Requested by @farfalla049 and @sakurakudo.

[diagonal-queen]

The ADA as your roommates

♡ characters: Atsushi Nakajima, Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Yosano Akiko, Jun'ichiro Tanizaki, Naomi Tanizaki, Ranpo Edogawa, Yukichi Fukuzawa

♡ synopsis: How good are the ADA at being roommates?

♡ cw: This is a post born out of medication-induced sleeplessness and months of pent up unfiltered fury directed at my shitty, shitty housemates. Some of that resentment may shine through in the headcanons. Also naughty words, NSFW themes with Dazai

note: hey y'all. i know it's not a request but it's the best i've got right now. law school and depression are kicking my ass. y'know that meme with the tiny man, and then the two buff dudes start beating the shit out of him? that's law school and depression with me. as always apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Atsushi:

Help he's so sweet and awkward all the time?? Always gives you a little wave or a smile and nod when you pass each other in the halls

He buys candies and chocolates and things and leave them in a bowl on the table for people to take if they want :')

When his roommates feels sad he takes the time to hang out with them and help them through whatever problem they're having

In the morning when he comes into the kitchen to make breakfast he's all yawny and has a scruffy bedhead and it's SO cute

He doesn't do it consciously, but on occasion Atsushi will fall asleep on the couch, and even more occasionally he'll transform into Byakko in his sleep. You get used to it after a while, but you can't really invite friends over unless you know Atsushi is in his room or out of the house T-T

But he really is so sweet. If you bring someone over they develop a crush on him immediately, but of course he's oblivious. After they leave he turns to you and is like 'aw your friend is nice' (they were hardcore flirting with him)

If he ever has an issue with you or the house, he gets very nervous when bringing it up because he doesn't wanna cause any conflict (you could be smashing the plates on the ground every day and he'd be like 'hey so i'm super duper sorry to bother you like i really hate to nag but-')

My mans. Is doing. His BEST

Dazai:

Screw you.

Holy shit this guy is an absolute nightmare to live with. he'll drive you crazy within the week just because of how *little* he does around the house

He doesn't clean his dishes. He doesn't buy stuff for the house. He doesn't do a DAMN thing.

Preferably, if you're gonna be living with him, you'll also wanna bring Kunikida. He has his own issues but at least then there's a balance between a chore-driven man and the embodiment of sloth, the deadly sin

He will stumble through the front door at 3am with unkempt clothes and the stink of alcohol on him. and he won't bother trying to be subtle or quiet either. Just crashes around until he pukes on the floor and falls asleep on the couch

At least he flushes (more than I can say for my housemates /gen)

He drinks in the house, and leaves bottles everywhere. The entire place is damn near bordering a safety hazard because of all the glass

Tries to cook but absolutely can't do it- he sets fires, ruins the kitchen, etc etc. It wouldn't be unreasonable for you to assume that all takeout packaging and pizza boxes you find strewn around the house belongs to him

He's fully up for a secret hookup if you're into that, though. Just give his door a knock after 11pm and you're in

Kunikida:

This guy is both a saint and a total pain in the arse

On one hand, he does his chores and he does them literally perfectly. Is there even a perfect way to wash the dishes? There is now. Kunikida is here

On the other hand you can kiss your hopes of getting out of your own chores goodbye. This man makes a schedule. a chore chart. a system. he pulls out the whole nine yards

Thanks a lot DAZAI

Anyway, he has his merits. Kunikida brings it upon himself to bring up the slack (even if he doesn't want to) because he can't stand living in a messy space, so your home is always spick and span

He organises weekly or monthly meetings to discuss home affairs (he's a real Louis Moriarty, he will also make you omelettes)

Kunikida is also kind of a walking talking alarm clock- he wakes you up in the morning if you're not up by a certain time, and also gives you a lights out time at night when he deems it bedtime

He pretends that this is just a part of routine and etiquette and whatever- in reality, he just really cares about your health and wants you to get enough sleep and keep a consistent routine

He also encourages you to go out if you're an introvert because "staying inside all the time is bad for you". Damnit Kunikida

Yosano:

Oh she's so great to live with

Every time you run into her you two always end up bitching to each other about something. She's the ultimate bitch buddy

If you get sick she takes on the role of home doctor, quarantines you in your room, and tends to you until you're well again. Or, if she doesn't like you, she just chops you up and gets it over with lmao

Yosano drinks a lot though. You eventually get used to falling asleep to the sounds of crashing, whirring chainsaws and maniacal laughter from the next room over

She takes AGES in the bathroom, so you really ought to keep a bucket on hand or something just in case. Like this woman will be in there for hours on end (RIP your water bill)

She also always takes up the phone line because she's a lil social butterfly (RIP your phone bill) but she'll also take your phone calls for you if you don't like talking on the phone so there's that

Yosano is really sweet but she always leaves her stuff laying around. Like there'll just be patient portfolios and medical tools in the living room?? Girl

Some nights she comes home with a bigass pizza in her hand and a bottle of wine in the other, and you know you're in for a GOOD time

If you ever need some spare cash she'll give it to you but if you take too long to pay her back she WILL chop you up so beware

Tanizaki:

He's a perfectly adequate roommate.

In all honesty there's barely anything to say about Tanizaki. He does his chores, respects his roommates, helps them if they need help, etc etc. He's just a real stand up guy!

Though I HC that Tanizaki gets sick pretty easily, so he can sometimes be seen wandering the house with a pale face wrapped in a blanket making sad boy noises

He gives you lifts as long as you're able to provide gas money (or McDonalds, either works as payment)

He doesn't usually accept invitations to go out drinking, but he's more than happy to grab a coffee with you if time permits it. He's just a responsible guy 😌 (if you don't have time he'll also bring you a coffee because he's just that nice)

Tanizaki always has backup stuff in case you guys run out of anything. This man basically has a bunker's worth of extra supplies for literally no reason, but hey free stuff!

He likes to make dinner for you sometimes, and you guys eat together and chat (it's something he grew used to while living with Naomi)

He's always happy to lend you his stuff if you ever run out of things (because of Naomi he even keeps backup menstrual stuff on hand, so you vagina owners are all safe)

You guys definitely do face masks and manicures together too

Naomi:

Naomi might, literally, be the roommate ever

She does her chores, she keeps quiet at night, she lets you know if she's bringing people over. Her only flaw is that she's always talking about her brother. Naomi please

She's also very vocal whenever her brother's in the house. What are they doing ffs

She bakes cupcakes and cookies and stuff each week for her roommates

She also brings around her friends sometimes for movie nights, and if you come into the living room she invites you to watch movies with her and her friends

Naomi honestly invites you to everything. Parties, gatherings, hanging out with friends- she's a true extrovert and will adopt you if you're an introvert, you have no choice sry :/

She also decorates the place really well- in all honesty she really did miss her calling as an interior designer because miss girl makes your home look CLASS

Naomi is the roommate you go to when you're preparing for a date and you need help with your outfit or nerves. She's like the ultimate wingwoman fr

She also buys incense and air freshener so your house smells nice as FUCK

Ranpo:

He's almost as bad as Dazai, aside from the fact that he can respect rules, and so (although begrudgingly and with a lot of whining) he actually does his chores

If you all live together he steals all of the candy Atsushi left out for everyone :(

Basically lives in his pyjamas. He gets home from work and immediately gets changed into his jammies

He also hogs the TV and won't let you watch Netflix until his own shows are finished :( and he also judges you for your taste in TV regardless of what it is

Ranpo never cooks for himself or you, but he LOVES when you cook for him. It makes him feel so special

You guys also get takeout all the time. You make a tradition of it and get different stuff on different days. It becomes a part of the autism routine and now you're stuck wasting your money (haha)

You also have to take him places and accompany him everywhere because he knows fuck all about taking the train. You basically live life around Ranpo's (annoying spontaneous) schedule

He uses too much soap in the shower and gets bubbles all over the bathroom, but at least he smells nice?

He does all the house paperwork, so silver lining and all

Fukuzawa:

He's lowkey kind of scary 😔

Like, he's a really respectful roommate who does his chores and pays mind to his living companions, but he also just like barely comes out of his room or talks to anyone.

Plus, detective daddy kinda has a massive case of RBF which really isn't helping

That being said, he will make tea for you if you feel blue, and he'll sit in your room and silently listen to you complain about your issues for hours. The PATIENCE of this man

He randomly does really sweet stuff for you without saying a word about it. Replaces broken stuff, makes you pancakes in the morning etc.

Fukuzawa tends to work late hours so he's often awake late in the night. He enjoys when you keep him company on your sleepless nights, and will give you a blanket if you end up falling asleep in his bed or on the couch

He's also super neat and never touches your stuff without asking <3

He knocks on your bedroom door and the bathroom door every single time, just in case, and he never enters unless you give him the heads up

His own door is never locked in case you need him too. Or in case there's a break-in. Good luck to that person fr

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen, @call-me-albie, @sayyestoheaven00

[bwat5-blog]

Breaking The Cycle: Silco and Jinx's final talk

**Spoilers For Arcane**

The relationship between Silco and Jinx is wonderfully complex and dark. Father and daughter, teacher and student, but also haunter and haunted.... People love both of these characters and rightfully so. Even Silco who I have been so harsh on is a wonderful character in his own right. Brilliant, well spoken, and so tragically twisted he cannot see how lost he has become. Jinx, for her part, is the story of a little girl whose mind is ripped apart by the violence around her, and how through her own strength as well as the love and support of those she meets along the way reclaims her soul in the face of overwhelming loss.

What I want to talk about today is this discussion between "them" in the second to last episode of the series. I have done so in a few small ways over the last few weeks but never as a focus. And every time I have been surprised to read some of the thoughts and responses to this scene. So, to that end. I thought it merited a good focused look. To any who take the time to read, thank you so much. I hope you get something out of this like I do!

How We Got Here:

Okay, we are here to discuss that scene, but that is almost at the end of the show. I have written quite a bit about both Silco and Jinx, and their relationship. Therefore I am not doing a complete and total deep dive here regarding their past. But, as I like to say context is our friend. So to understand this moment, let's at least do a quick rundown of what lead to it.

Silco, Vander and Felicia were all very good friends in Zaun when they were young. Silco and Vander were the primary architects for the idea of Zaun but Felicia was very close with them. Silco and Vander swore an oath to create a safer Zaun for Felicia's unborn child, who of course is Vi.

Sometime after Felicia's death during their revolutionary activities, Vander blames Silco and almost kills him. Leading to their complete parting of ways, Silco losing an eye, and Silco completely reinventing himself from that pain and anger.

Taking revenge, Silco abducts Vander and causes the deaths of Sheriff Grayson and Benzo. During the attempted rescue of Vander, he tries to have Vi killed, and through his actions causing the scenario to begin with is responsible for the deaths of Vander, Mylo and Claggor.

Silco takes Powder for his own and raises her as his daughter. Teaching her to weaponize her pain and anger until she starts going by Jinx and becomes a part of his operations, spreading Shimmer and fear and death throughout the Undercity.

Silco is killed during Jinx's mental breakdown while trying to convince Jinx to kill Vi instead.

Now, a few things of note moving forward regarding their relationship that are very important:

Silco Did Love JInx- Despite the darkness of their meeting. I do think Silco loved Jinx as his daughter. He is shown to be very patient and defensive of her. He is extremely distraught when she is dying on the bridge after her fight with Ekko and even more so when it seems Singed may have killed her.

That Love Was Completely And Totally Toxic- As I stated in the beginning of this document I am not doing a whole run-down on their relationship again demonstrating Silco's influence. But for a quick example; Silco knows Jinx carries a tremendous amount of unresolved trauma over losing her family. She thinks Vi is dead. Silco finds out Vi is alive and the only thing he tries to do is kill her before she can find Jinx, to prevent losing her himself.

Jinx Loves Silco- At the end of the day, regardless of how their story together began, Silco matters to Jinx. She was with him during her formative years. She was so young when Connal died she probably barely remembers him. And she has mentally distanced herself from Vander as a father figure to protect herself. (I'm not saying she doesn't care. See almost all of season two as proof that she does. I'm just saying they don't have the same bond as they might have if things had gone differently. That's all).

Life Without Him:

In the wake of Silco's death, Jinx is alone. She and Vi are worlds apart, Vander is dead, Silco is gone, and the people of the Undercity fear her. But as the story develops she starts to come back to life, little by little. Growing "closer" with Sevika, Isha coming into her life. These things and more slowly start to open her world in a way that is more than death and destruction, especially when she reconnects with Vi.

But we do see hints of how Silco's legacy influences her.

Life With Isha-

In the months since the battle against Vi and Caitlyn, Jinx has found a measure of piece in living quietly with Isha. She stays out of the public eye. She has not fought against the Noxians or Enforcers. Her whole life is with this little girl who quite literally fell on her. And while of course there are bigger things at work, and we understand that this small world she has made for herself cannot last, we need to remember how we left things with Jinx. On her back, urging Vi to kill her. So how does Silco's memory intrude?:

Sevika comes in, wanting Jinx to take part in their upcoming rally. And when Jinx refuses Sevika grows frustrated:

S- "Silco spent his whole life trying to rally the undercity together.. stupid joke that it is, you have the chance to pull it off."

J- "I told you, I'm not interested".

S- "Do you know how much he sacrificed to protect you?!.. he believed in your potential". (As soon as she slams her fist down Jinx starts breathing heavy, glitching, eyes wide)

J- "well then he shouldn't have died!"

Cut to Silco's former office...

"Still giving me the silent treatment"

We listen as Jinx speaks to the open air, spinning Silco's old chair. What it basically comes to is she feels she probably owes him being that symbol (the idea of her owing him anything is completely outrageous but we aren't going there right now), but is afraid of losing what she has with Isha. She says he should speak up if he wants her to be his rebel leader otherwise, he really is gone. And there is no reason for her to stay.

Isha Taken-

Isha being taken at the rally is what drives Jinx back into the world against her will. Back into the violence and the death. And why did Isha attend that rally? Sevika came and spoke of Jinx's responsibility. Of Silco's sacrifice. Now, let me totally clear. Isha is a wild-child and was already doing stuff at the checkpoints and painting images for the rebellion. I am not putting this on Sevika in turns of blame. My point, is that it all comes back to Silco. Silco's shadow slithered into her peace and now, it's gone. And as we see, in this moment he is not comforting, or reassuring as a specter. He is another mocking demon in a moment of loss.

So what does this all mean:

The death of Silco, while incredibly emotional and traumatic for Jinx, was the beginning of her freedom. Even in death, Silco's reputation, his legacy, his actions, they all cast a shadow over Jinx that she cannot get away from. The people of Piltover see the monster Silco made her into, the people of Zaun see her as his heir. The one who can unite the Undercity in glorious revolution. All she wants is to be with Isha....

She can't get away from it. And through plot, and visual story telling the show is NOT vague about this. "Still giving me the silent treatment" implies she has tried to talk to him since his death. When does she finally see him? When she is angry, and scared for Isha, and pushing back against the shadows in her mind.

I am willing to admit that it's probably just my dislike of him (again as a villain he is amazing but I'd chuck him in a meatgrinder in person). But the way I see that image above is that after Jinx tearfully said he needed to speak up or it would mean he was really gone in his old office.. here he is laughing at her in a moment of darkness and rage.

"Haha, you wanted me. Here I am"..

In the Bunker:

J- "go away.. you're too late" S- "oh, it's a hell of a place. It says something about the late Marcus that he found imprisoning your sister to be a greater mercy than killing her" J- "killing isn't mercy" S- "a spark of rebellion still burns inside that husk, I see. No. Killing is a cycle. One that started long before Vander and me. And one that will continue long after the two of you. J- "I'm done running in circles' S- We build our own prisons. Bars forged of oaths, codes, commitments. Walls of self-doubt and accepted limitation. We inhabit these cells, these identities, we call them us. I thought I could break free by eliminating those I deemed my jailers. But... Jinx.. I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away".

Okay, we come at last to the scene I really wanted to dig into here. Jinx is in the Kiramman bunker, not Stillwater as some folks seem to have missed. She has lost Isha. She has just spoken with Caitlyn, she is quiet, and weak, and sounds so.. so exhausted. Her hair is undone, she isn't eating, and she has been picking at the skin of her fingers. She is truly in a very dark place.

But it is so.. so different than the darkness we are used to from her. There is no glitching, no fits of rage or empty pained laughter. For all the pain she is in and the clear, crushing depression, there is also a clarity she has not really ever shown. She apologizes to Caitlyn in her way, she finally can see how much Vi loves her and how much she loves Vi in return. In giving up, in surrendering all of those horrible battles in her mind and laying them down because she intends to end her life, she is seeing things more clearly than she has ever been able to. And it is in this state we get the above exchange.

Now, I have seen some various gripes about this across several places. Here are a few:

Silco has been reduced to being a pro-piltover mouthpiece.

By hearing it from Silco we are seeing jinx hasn't really progressed.

The scene doesn't make sense because Silco would never say this.

Regarding the accusations of character assassination of Silco:

Silco as his own character, including his own story, beliefs, ideals and values, is completely and utterly irrelevant to this scene. This is not about what he would or wouldn't do if he were alive, because he isn't. At the risk of stating the extremely obvious, Jinx is alone in this place. But even as far as she has come her mind is still not whole. So in this terrible moment of loss and pain as she is on the cusp of a realization that will change her life forever, who Silco was does not matter. He is simply the pencil her mind is using to write the lesson in a way she can understand.

Regarding the accusation that seeing him means Jinx has not learned or progressed:

This moment is without a doubt, one of the most important moments in all of Jinx's development to me. She is seeing Silco because for better or worse she views him as a father figure. He has become the lens through which she at least partially views the world.

Remember this?:

When Vi was hurt, and alone , and wanted so badly to give up it was Vander she saw and heard in her mind. So as Jinx is processing this revelation, that she doesn't want to keep being this person anymore. She doesn't want to keep killing, to keep running in circles, to be a revolutionary or a terrorist anymore and she just wants it all to stop this conversation is how her mind does this.

Take away Silco from this moment and what are we left with: Jinx realizing that the only way for the horror to end is to walk away.

Let the message come from Silco in its way: Jinx's mind freeing itself of Silco's influence and what she feels she owes him because he is telling her it's okay to walk away.

CONCLUSION:

In this moment, Jinx is essentially, giving herself permission to turn away from the pain and death of her history. Away from the guilt of who she has been and even away from the corrupting tendrils of Silco's legacy. She applies this same lesson to what she does with Vi, giving Vi permission to start living for herself again and stop dwelling on the pain of their past.

Now of course, what she does with Vi is based in love, and right now she has come to believe that she herself is not worthy of said love. There is no good version of her in her mind. And thankfully she is able to be pulled out of that darkness by Ekko. But what we are seeing here regardless of her plans, is the clarity to realize that as long as she and Vi stay shackled to their pain, it will just keep repeating over and over.

Thank you for reading, have a a great day!

**Y'all I know I repeat this every time but I think it's important. So much of Jinx's story is impacted by her mental health especially the state she is in during this part of her story. I AM NOT in any way, shape, or form a mental health professional. I am just a fan doing my best to understand what I think is one of the best stories and one of it's best characters in my lifetime. Thank you**

[ebodebo]

The Fugitive

—the cia is going against taskforce 141, making ghost a fugitive. unfortunately, he gets hurt and a detective takes him to a near by hospital, that an old friend happens to work at.

—ghost x f!reader

—2.3k+

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"Hey, Marcey, I don't suppose you could squeeze one in the schedule?" Detective Marsh's voice rang in the matte black Dodge Charger he sat in. 

She huffed out. "John." 

"I know. I know." He quickly supplied, sparing a look to the backseat, where an injured, bleeding Ghost sat. "But, this one is messed up pretty bad." He could feel Marcey roll her eyes. "They usually are "messed up pretty bad." She said, quoting his words.

"Honey." He sighed. "I know the guy. He's a friend." He exhaled. Marcey paused for a moment. "Okay. I have a doctor on rotation who's available." She finally said. "But, this is it. I can't keep doing favors just because your boys flubbed up." 

"And you won't have to anymore because, effective immediately, I'm firing Jensen and Miles." He states. "It's too much Goddamned paperwork. Gives me a headache." He says while bringing one hand to rub his temple, the other gripping the steering wheel. 

"Good for you, boss," Marcey emphasizes the last word, causing Detective Marsh to let out a gruff laugh. "Park in the back when you get here." She stated, swiftly typing on her computer. 

"I'm outside. In the front." He confessed. "Of course you are." Marcey sighed. "I'll be right there." 

Detective Marsh looks up at the rearview mirror, carefully observing Ghost. "Does it hurt?" Detective Marsh questioned.

"What do you think?" Ghost snarkily said, his voice deep and gravely, as he held his bleeding side. Detective Marsh gave him a light laugh. "Stupid question." He confirmed. 

Marcey appeared through the revolving doors that led into the hospital. She carefully knocked on the driver's side of the Dodge, where Detective Marsh sat. 

"You seriously couldn't have parked in the back. You are going to scare my patients." She crosses her arms as she opens his car door. "This was closer. I'm sorry." He said, unbuckling his seatbelt, then stepping out of the car. "He's in the backseat." He opens the backseat, revealing Ghost. 

"Oh my-" Marcey begins inspecting his bloody side before beckoning the two nurses she brought. "What the hell happened?" She questions, hands on her hips, moving aside so the nurses can get him out of the car, though he stubbornly swats them away to get out on his merit. 

"From what I know, the guys were in pursuit, and they found him all bent to hell." He shrugs. 

"That's what they told you? Jensen and Miles?" She skeptically asks as Ghost begrudgingly allows the nurses to get him out of the car. He nods. "I know. I know. I'm going out to get a full report from some pedestrians at the scene." He grips her shoulder a bit. "Might not answer my phone for a bit. I already know the DA got wind of this. So, he's going to be busting my balls and the entire PD's for the next week or so." He kisses her temple before getting back into his car.

"No need to worry, John. We'll take care of him." She smiles.

He smiles back, closing his door. Before he pulls away, he rolls his window down. "Also, I forgot to mention, he's wanted by the CIA, so this place might be swarmed with suits. Love you, bye." He swiftly states as Marcey's face contorts. "Wait. Wha—" she begins, but he pulls off before she can rain her terror on him. 

Marcey curses before she turns to the nurses heading inside the hospital. "Unfortunately, we'll have to take him through the lobby since my husband decided he was too lazy to spring for the extra yards around' the back. Just take him to the OR." Both nurses nod and attempt to grab Ghost. 

"I can walk," he proclaims as he stumbles to the revolving doors. Marcey stares at the nurses. "Just make sure he doesn't fall on his way." She lightly waves them towards him. 

"The OR is this way, sir." One of the nurses steps in front of him, leading him towards a big metal door. 

All three of them pushed through the door and immediately are met with the room's cold air. "Just lay on the bed. Careful not to lay on your right side," one of the nurses chimed. 

"Got it." He grits as he carefully lays himself on the bed, positioned on his back. "What hospital am I at?" Ghost questions, gripping his side. 

"Highlands Medical," one nurse answers as she gets his IV drip ready. He makes a thoughtful expression. "Don't suppose Y/N still works here? Huh?"

"Oh yeah. Dr. Y/L/N. She still works here. Has been for a couple of years, actually." The nurse quickly finds his vein and gently sticks the IV in his arm. "I want her." He plainly states.

"Sorry, she has another patient at the moment. Dr. Brazo is great, though."

"No." He looks at the nurse. "I want her."

The nurses look at each other for a moment. "I'm sorry, but unfortunately—" He is quick to pull his IV out. 

"What are you-" The nurse questions. "You can't leave." The other nurse chimes as Ghost sits up, gritting his teeth as he feels his side ache. "I told you. I want her." He pauses. "And if I can't have her, I'm leaving."

They eye each other once again. "Okay, okay. Just lay back. I'll go get her." He narrows his eyes. "I will," she assures him. He gently lies back as the nurse once again sticks his IV in his arm. 

Before the nurse could leave, there was a knock at the door, followed by an intense voice. "PD," the voice said, opening the door. It was three police officers. "Simon Riley?" one asked, looking at Ghost, to which he nodded. 

"Gonna' have to handcuff you." He strolled over to the bed, pulling out his handcuffs and cuffing him to either side of the bed. "We're also gonna' have to stay in here." Two police officers stood in front of the door, and the other moved closer to Ghost's bed.

"Isn't this a bit overkill?" One nurse said as she grabbed Ghost's chart. "Direct orders," the officer who handcuffed him said. "Well, I need to go get the doctor. I can leave, right?" The two police officers by the door stepped aside and let her slip through.

The nurse made her way to room 104, where you were, gently knocking on the door. "Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Y/L/N. Can I speak to you for a moment?" You raised your brow, issuing an apology to your patient before stepping outside. 

"What's going on?" you ask, crossing your arms. "Well, we have a guy in the OR. He's uh... he's requested you." The nurse hands over his chart.

"No name?" You say, examining the blank name section of the chart. "He won't talk much. So, we just wrote down where he was injured." The nurse looks at you. "Did you tell him I was busy with another patient?" You hand the nurse the chart back. "Yes, several times, but he threatened to leave. Even pulled out his IV." The nurse let out a little laugh

You titled your head. "Call Dr. Lindley. She can take over this patient; she owes me." You grab the chart again. "In the OR, yes?" The nurse nods. You glance over the chart again before opening the door to your patient. "I'm sorry, Ms. Lawson. There is an emergency in the OR. But Dr. Lindley will be here shortly. I have sent her your charts so she knows your condition. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience." You earnestly say, but to your surprise, she seems fine with the change. 

You step out of room 104 with the nurse by your side and notice the influx of police in the lobby. "What the hell is going on?" You turn to the nurse with you. "I'm not sure, but earlier, three police officers came in the OR. I think they're still there." You breathe out and head towards the big metal door, though you are unable to open it.

"Excuse me. I need in." You raise your voice, knocking on the cold metal. The door is instantly opened, and he meets you.

"Simon." You question observing his disheveled state. 

"Hey, doc." You cringe at his voice. It was deep and rough. Commanding. It spliced through the air and demanded attention. It was the same, but slightly different than the voice you heard all those years ago.

"What happened to you?" You walk over to him, assessing his side.

"Got injured." He matter-of-factly proclaims.

You roll your eyes. "I see your sense of humor hasn't changed much." Your gaze travels to his hands, both glued to the bed and held by cuffs. "I can't work on him with cuffs," you remark, turning to the officers. "Sorry, I can't remove them," one says.

You frustratingly sigh. "I can't operate on him with handcuffs." You continue. "And if I don't operate on him, he'll bleed out and die." The officers glance at each other and then at Ghost.

"Don't worry, I'll be a good boy for the doctor." He remarks, the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smirks under his mask. "Fine, but don't try anything." One skeptically says, walking over to him and uncuffing both hands. 

You make your way over to him and carefully cut his shirt off, where his injury is. "So-" You begin, grabbing some iodine to clean the deep wound. "What's all this about? Are you a criminal now?" You question, gently laying some surgical drape over the area.

He shuddered at the direct contact, quietly cursing. "Sorry. It's going to hurt a little." You called for one of the nurses to grab the suture kit. "So, criminal?" You pushed again as the nurse handed you the kit.

He lets out a gruff laugh that tickles your ears. "No. Not a criminal." He pauses as you begin to use the kit to sew stitches under the skin. "It's complicated." He brusquely states. "Mhm. I see you're still the brooding, mysterious type. Huh?" You smile at him as his muscles contract at the needle going into his skin. 

"Brooding?" He huffs. You let out a laugh. "Very much so." You look up to notice he's staring at you. Your eyes instantaneously locked. It should feel awkward. There were five other people in there, but it felt like it was just the two of you at that moment. 

A knock at the door jolted you out of your daze. "Open the door," the voice on the other side demanded. The police in front of the door jumped but opened it a bit before opening it wider to accommodate the person.

"Christ. Why are all of you in here?" Detective Marsh gestures to all three officers. "You two sure as shit shouldn't be here." He gestures to the two officers standing in front of the door. "The DA has the whole departments ass because of you two." He wipes his hand across his jaw, which is covered in stubble. "Get out." He demands.

"But, sir-" One officer starts.

Detective Marsh's jaw tightens, causing both officers to hurry out the door. The last officer stands adjacent to where Ghost lays. "Sorry about that." Detective Marsh declares. He points at the remaining officer. "Come with me. I need backup downtown." The officer glances at Ghost. Detective Marsh rolls his eyes. "He's fine." The officer nods, and they head off. 

"Sweetheart." Ghost croaked. You look at him. "Your hand." He gestures to your hand resting on his side. "Sorry." You quickly pick up your gloved hand and reach for the saline to clean his wound. 

"I forgot I had a case scheduled today with Dr. Raines." You look up at the nurses. “Will you two go assist her?" They both nod and head out the door.

"Gotta' lot of patients today, doc." Ghost lifted a brow as you applied some antiseptic. "I thought they would have remembered that Dr. Raines is on maternity leave." You give him a cheeky smile.

"Wow. Lyin' to your coworkers? How insensitive." He sarcastically remarks as you snicker. "I just...I needed to talk to you." You confess, applying a large bandage to his side.

"In private?" You look up at him after you finish putting the bandage on. "In private," you confirm, gently pressing the bandage around the edges to secure it onto his skin. 

"What?" He tilted his head, taking notice of your silence. 

"I hate seeing you like this." You look up at him. "All bruised up."

"I'm fine." He assures, which makes you let out a laugh.

He tilts his head. "What's so funny?"

"You've always been so stubborn," you remark, absently stroking his thumb. “You never let anyone help you. You always want to do things on your own, even if you can't."

"I let you help me." He lifts his finger to graze yours gently. "I know. I'm glad you did." You smile. "So, will you tell me why all the cops are interested in you?" You question, raising a brow. "No. I think I'll stay brooding." He quips. "Simon Riley, did you just make a joke?" You exclaim, making him let out a laugh. 

You both sat there for a moment, falling into a comfortable silence. You knew you most likely wouldn't see him again, and he knew the same. It's just how your relationship worked with him. You see him once in a blue moon, and then he disappears off the face of the earth for what feel like an eternity.

You loved Simon, and he loved you, but you both knew a relationship beyond what you had currently couldn't work, especially with him being God knows where with God knows who. There are too many trials and tribulations involved. It's better to keep it simple and one-dimensional, something Simon Riley is not. 

"I'll have the nurse fill out your discharge papers." You finally break the silence, gently squeezing his hand. He nods.

You don't know what possessed you, but you find yourself bending down to kiss him. He's quick to kiss you back. You pull back and head to the door, holding it open.

"Goodbye, Simon."

"Goodbye, Sweetheart."

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[sixflame438]

Again and Again

Synopsis - Its your first fansign event and you receive unwanted comments. Your girlfriend comforts you backstage but then your members catch you in a moment.

Pairing - Hong Eunchae x 6th lsfm!reader

Tags - Angst, fluff, rude “fans”, secret and established relationship, kinda iffy tbh, possible errors, kissing, a lil bit of swearing at the end

A/N - [Request] Lowkey Eunchae oppa agenda, lets pretend lsfm didnt have any fansign events before antifragile era mk? There is a prequel fic that happens before the events of this one, its short and more fluffier than this one imo [Part 1]

Wordcount - 2890

You loved being an idol. You loved singing, you loved dancing, you loved making people happy through what you did and you most definitely loved meeting you fans. But not this. This was not what you signed up for. Youd guess it was probably the 6th person thats done this today.

Each time was the same. They would get to the seat in front of yours , give you a judgy look filled with disgust and proceed to berate you and tell you how worthless you are compared to your members and that the group would be better off without you. And of course, that hurt. The first 2 times were easy to brush off but with it happening again and again? Well, you were only so strong.

Some would do it quietly as to not draw attention to themselves but some didnt even care enough to do so, yelling like dads with beers by the bbq. Security would come drag them away but this didnt matter much as you were last on the table, theyd have to leave anyway.

As the timer rang for the next rotation, you subtly called over your manager, signalling for a timeout. Luckily she was a sweet kind lady who quickly noticed the tears pooling in your eyes. With the nod of approval you silently got up and left for your break room, not wanting anyone to notice your discomfort or waterworks. As intended nobody did, except for one.

It was funny, you and her were on the opposite ends of the table. How she managed to notice and kazuha (who was next to you but didnt realise until you were gone) wouldve baffled you but you were too in your head to care.

Muffled noises were all you could hear as the world around you became muted. You could barely make out the event coordinator telling your group to have an impromptu photo session with the fans and the same fans screaming in excitement.

Being an idol was all you had ever wanted. You loved singing, you loved dancing and debuting in Le Sserafim was a dream come true. You were confident in your abilities and knew you always tried putting your all into every performance. But was it enough? What if the haters were right?

You were well aware of the comments circulating the internet, it was hard not to notice them. And although you didnt want to believe it, you could see why people thought what they did. Like just look at your groups lineup.

Huh Yunjin, a professionally trained opera singer and amazing song writer and producer as shown when “Raise Y_our Glass” was released to celebrate your groups 100th day and Kazuha Nakamura, a professional ballet dancer of 15 years before joining the group, who even trained at a national ballet academy.

If those two werent already cool enough you also had Kim Chaewon and Sakura Miyawaki in your group too, both beloved and popular members of the former popular girl group Iz*one. Not to mention how Sakura was basically Japans sweetheart, everyone and their parents knew about her. Your members had past merits and achievements with proof to show for but you? You were just you.

You who debuted in only 18 months. But was that enough? You were good at dancing and singing, had a stunning face card and had great charisma but it all felt like an understatement when compared to your groupmates.

You would be a liar if you said that was everyone in your group though as in through your assigned break room walked the final member. Your favourite person in the whole wide world, the groups adorable maknae or lesser known as your beloved girlfriend.

You and Eunchae met as trainees under the same label. Being more reserved and barely speaking unless prompted made it hard to make any friends but what started as small nods of acknowledgement and morning greetings turned into quiet conversations during breaks.

Obviously Eunchae was the one to come up to you first and if you had to pick someone to talk to in amongst the group of strangers you were training with, you’d always pick her. Even before she came up to you, it was apparent that everyone wanted to befriend her.

Her cheerful sunshine demeanour naturally drew you in and it definitely helped that she was easy to talk to. Slowly over time your friendship grew and so did you. The two of you were inseparable and there was never a moment apart, everything was done together and it was just the way you liked it.

Every monthly evaluation, every critique, every failure. She helped you through your time as a trainee, constantly helping you use the feedback you received to improve on your skills. And of course you were there for Eunchae too, never failing to cheer her up after a hard day of training.

To anyone else you were just besties as the clinginess could easily be excused to how touchy Eunchae was with any and everyone. Wrong, but theyd never know that.

You genuinely believed that if it werent for Eunchaes radiant positivity, you would’ve never gotten through being a trainee and you wouldve never debuted together.

“Hey baby” she said cautiously as she approached, careful not to scare or overwhelm you any more.

You were curled up on the couch, arms around your legs, knees up to your face. Shaking and bawling with tears.

“Whats wrong sweetheart?” The only response was more crying.

Eunchae could feel her heart chipping away with every shake and choked out sob you let out. She had an idea about what had led you to this moment, she had seen the comments too.

They were nasty, downright diabolical things someone should never say to anyone. It was cruel, harmful and completely wrong. How people thought they could say things like this and have them backed up was something Eunchae would never understand.

“There were people hic calling me names and hic saying things about me and hic saying I dont belong in the group” you choked out painfully between each point. Eunchae couldn’t believe it. To post hateful comments online was one thing but to tell them to the idol herself? The audacity some people had.

The worst part was this was happening to you and only you. Maybe her other members had a few issues too but Eunchae had none. Everything was smooth sailing and perfect from her perspective so to know that you werent having the same crushed her.

“Theyre also saying that im worthless hic and that the groups better off hic without someone like me and hic and-“ You couldn’t even continue. The tears were blurring your vision and it was getting hard to speak so you just gave up trying. Exactly like the netizens wanted.

Eunchae had heard enough. Clearly there was more to be said but she didn’t want to know. You didnt deserve any of the atrocious comments. You didn’t deserve the threats and insults. And someone as sweet and kind as you didnt deserve the hate. It was unjustified.

You had long since dropped your legs when you started explaining and Eunchae took that opportunity to climb onto your lap, sitting up nice and close. Cradling your face with her hands, Eunchae used her thumbs to wipe away the running tears, drawing your attention away from your shoes and up to her face.

“Hey baby listen to me alright? The comments? Theyre wrong. All completely lies made up because theyre mad. Mad youre better than them in so many ways.”

“They cant help but be envious of you because well look at you. Youre talented, hardworking and absolutely jaw droppingly gorgeous. Are they the ones that preform on stage in front of thousands? No. Thats you. Do those scummy douchebags have thousands of fans worldwide supporting them? No. Thats you. And yes it is a group effort but you are playing your part. “

“You aren’t worthless or ugly or better off like they claim, youre more than they will ever be and you’ve already achieved more than they have. Plus who are they to say anything about you? Theyre probably lazy, unhygienic, haters who are single asf and have no bitches.”

“Dont ever let someone as unrelevant as that say anything about you alright? They know nothing about the effort you put into this and trust me, youre beautiful and funny girlfriend, when I say that you are just so amazing. No one can ever compare and im really proud to call you mine.”

“Sure maybe our unnies have already done things before that doesn’t mean we aren’t capable of doing those things too. Its my first time debuting too and this is the start of our journey, theres plenty of time to prove ourselves. If you ever feel lost again, remember that you’ve got me okay? And the unnies. And piona. There will always be people supporting you no matter what.”

“Chae…”

“Hush my baby its okay ive got you” she says as she wraps herself around you, running her hand through your hair to soothe and calm you down.

It was funny how different the roles were in your relationship. Even though you were older it was always as if Eunchae was your unnie instead, always caring and trying to take care of you. Of course you did the same for her too but she became a different person when it was just you two alone.

Despite internet thoughts Eunchae was quite mature, often sounding like Chaewon or Sakura at times. You guess its probably due to how close everyone was and how theyre the parental figures of the group. If Eunchae was the groups maknae, you were hers.

“Lets dry off the tears now yeah? They cover your eyes too much and i like them best when youre happy. You’re beautiful you know that?”

You did know, she told you almost everyday. But that didnt stop your heart from fluttering any differently. The warmth from your closeness and the comforting words had you smiling like a lovesick fool. Absolutely smitten or just stupid in love if you will.

“Yeah i do. Thanks pumpkin I really appreciate it” you say with a small smile. It wasnt as bright as it could be but it was a start.

Eunchae just nods with content, as if her life’s purpose had been fulfilled and she could now rest peacefully. Like a true oppa gentlemen she gracefully picks up your hand and delicately places a kiss on the back. Then your wrist, shoulder, cheek and awaiting lips.

They were feather light touches with that lingering tickly effect making you squirm a little.

“Chae stop kissing me” you whine with a pout but still giggling as you try to stop her from kissing you while you were still a mess.

“I cant help it, seeing you smile like that makes it hard not to” she says with a childish grin.

You cant help but giggle to yourself again. It was so innocent, so adorable and absolutely what you fell for in the first place.

Eunchae hooks her arms around your neck as she leans in again for a longer kiss, this time with more appreciation and pure admiration.

Hands holding Eunchae steady, you smile into the kiss, going with the motions. You would always love your girlfriend for everything she did. You loved her then, you love her now and there was nothing stopping you from loving her in the future either.

Your dreaming is cut short though when you hear a loud, high pitched shriek coming from across the room.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK”

Startled you look towards the now open door and the 4 figures standing in the entrance.

“YUNJIN”

“Youre gonna give us away idiot”

“Crap sorry”

“Too late dumbass”

You stared back at your members with wide eyes. Shocked was an understatement. How much did they see? In a hurry you tried to lift your girlfriend off your lap but she wouldnt budge, gripping onto you tighter like a koala. Eunchae wasnt phased. She didnt care you got caught, it was about time anyway.

“Hi Unnies” Eunchae says casually as if they didnt just walk in on something important.

“Care to tell us whats going on” your leader asks accusingly with raised eyebrows.

“Shitty people said some even more fucked up things to yn, so im cheering her up”

“Hong Eunchae language” Chaewon scolded angrily, clearly upset over something. Either that being the youngest swearing or the discovery that the second youngest was receiving hate comments.

“I dont care. They cant just go and make my Yn sad like that. She deserves nothing but happiness” the maknae replies resolute in her words.

“My yn?”

“How long?”

“Over a year” you say meekly, finally choosing to join the conversation

“WHATTTTTTT”

“WAIT THATS SO CUTE”

The simultaneous loud responses overwhelm you a little as you wince further into your seat.

“Are you guys not mad?”

“No why would we be?”

“I am, very.” Yunjin says with a faux stern face.

“Oh” is all you say as your heart drops, tensing and panicking on the inside.

“Oh no no im not actually mad im kidding”

Relief washes through as you let out a held gasp of air, head falling back onto the couch. Maybe if you hadnt had a meltdown just before you wouldve called her out on her tomfoolery.

“Why didnt you tell us earlier?” Questions the ballerina, her head tilting sideways as she always did when she was confused.

Sensing that you werent going to respond Eucnahe quickly chimed in. “Uhm we dont really have a good reason to be fair but we didnt know if you guys wouldve been okay with it and we just never got around to saying anything”

You could see some nods coming from the group but knowing your group you were bound to get pounced with more questions later.

“Unacceptable so you guys have been secretly dating this entire time and weve known nothing. Im being lied to by my own children” cries the group producer, her head now laying on kazuhas shoulder pretending to weep and cry.

“Yunjin unnie youre so dramatic”

Sakura, ever the timely person and mother of the group quickly draws attention to the matter at hand. “This has been quite the discovery but breaks ending in 5 mins we should probably go back out soon. You can all talk about it later”

“Dammit man. Urgh whatever when the singing is over i want answers and every detail you hear me?” Yunjin asserts pointing at you and Eunchae on the couch as she walks out.

Each member leaves the room and its when you hear them talking outside that you realise Chaewon didnt say much about you and Eunchae. Now you were back to being worried, mentally preparing yourself for an explosive outburst later when you got back to the dorms. Breaking you from your thoughts, Kazuha pokes her head around the door.

“You guys are really cute btw” she says with her signature smile, exuding calm and warmth before she went back on her way to the stage. Such a precious soul.

The comment helps to ease your worry but before you can keep thinking about it Eunchae places another kiss on lips.

“Hey dont worry about it, its just the members. They love us just the same with or without relationship.”

“Lets show the haters that no matter how much they talk it wont matter because which group are you in?”

You chuckle to yourself knowing whats coming before replying back to Eunchae like she was an army general.

“Le Sserafim!”

“And what are you?”

“An idiot sandwich!”

“No youre not! What are you?”

“Im fearless!”

“Haha thats my girl.” Eunchae replies as she gives your shoulder a nudge. Her bubbly personality (the one shown on screen) taking its place to lighten the mood.

“Can you give me a minute?”

Your girlfriend nods, removing herself from your lap and leaving to go wait by the door.

You use the time to collect yourself, quickly brushing your hair with your hands and touching up your make up with the supplies left from earlier. Taking one last glance at your reflection you leave, content with the way you were. You weren’t going to let a few bad comments get in the way of what could be an amazing day.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah lets go” You reply with a smile, as you link your arm with Eunchaes, walking down the hallway going towards the stage.

Its not possible to have everyone like you and you knew that. Not everyone was going to have the overwhelming support someone like Chaewon and Sakura had and there was always going to be fan favourites like Eunchae.

But you were content and grateful for what you had. A group of fantastic members, a supportive family, tons of loving fans (the true ot6 supporters) and of course your wonderful girlfriend.

You loved Eunchae and it was apparent why everyone loved Eunchae so much too. You were 1 of millions but it was you she chose. And you knew, at the bottom of your heart, that even if no one did, shed always choose you. Again and again.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry wants it known that he’s at the ministry’s Yule gala under duress. It was all he could do to force himself into his dress robes and make himself presentable; he can’t fathom where he’ll find the energy he needs to get through the rest of the evening.

People he barely knows keep coming up to him – as they always do – to shake his hand, chat with him about this and that, thank him for his role in defeating the dark lord. (Still. He really wishes they’d stop doing that. It’s been more than six years now.)

And then there are pockets of people, staring at him and whispering behind their hands. Another constant in his public appearances, though he imagines the content of their conversations is at least a little different from usual, if not the tone. 

He’s just escaped another fan and is looking to make a beeline for the bar when it happens. Harry sees his doom approaching from several metres away but, since they saw him first and he (stupidly) refuses to run away, he stands there like an idiot, wishing he were anywhere else.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny says. It looks like she wants to hug him or get close, and his shoulders stiffen involuntarily. Thankfully, she stays where she is.

“Hullo Ginny,” he replies and, without looking at the man, utters a terse, “Malfoy.”

The smug arse smirks at him. “Potter.”

“How’ve you been?” Ginny asks, which. Rude. If she actually cared about that, she wouldn’t have cheated on him with the git on her arm, but whatever. 

“Oh, fine. Y’know, keeping busy.” God, he hates small talk.

Before he can respond with the requisite, ‘And you?’, Malfoy jumps in. “Yes, I suppose you have been, from what I’ve heard.”

Ugh. Fucking Malfoy. Harry wishes he had a drink or seven. He can’t believe he’d rather be caught in another conversation with that weirdo from earlier about his wand-care habits, of all things.

Ginny gently elbows Malfoy in the side with a chiding, “Draco.”

He’s considering the merits of letting himself be ripped apart by the anti-apparition wards to get away from this conversation – splinching himself can’t be much more painful than this – when a hand bearing a very welcome drink appears in front of him. That’ll do for now, though splinching is still on the table. Especially when he follows the hand to the arm up to the face and of course it’s Ri– Tom.

Harry gives him the side-eye, but accepts the drink. “Thanks.”

Tom leans in slightly, just enough so the two in front of them can’t read his lips. “You looked like you might be in need of a rescue.”

And as he pulls back out of Harry’s personal space, he rests a hand low on Harry’s back. Harry tenses for a moment before just accepting that tonight is all about him being as uncomfortable as possible. He takes a gulp of his drink – something dark and spicy. It burns pleasantly.

When he starts paying attention again, he finds Ginny looking at Tom with surprise; Malfoy is looking at the other man with – is that a hint of fear? And Tom is staring them both down, but somehow managing to do it with a veneer of politeness. 

“Good evening, Draco,” he says pleasantly. “Ginevra.”

“Riddle.” Malfoy’s greeting is stiff, as is the awkward, aborted bow he gives. Hmm.

“And Harry,” Tom says, turning to look at him fondly. “So good to see you again.”

Hoo boy.

“You,” Harry murmurs from behind the rim of his drink. “Are not subtle.”

Tom takes the opportunity to slide his hand further around Harry’s back, lightly gripping his hip and pulling him closer up against Tom’s side. He returns Harry’s withering look with an undaunted smile. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“When did you two get so cosy?” Ginny cuts in. Her tone is playful, but there’s more than offhand curiosity lurking beneath.

“Uh.” Shite, he doesn’t ever want Ginny to find out how this started, but especially not in public. Who knows who’s listening in or watching. “We ran into each other by chance a month and a half ago” –actually, he’s how I found out you were fucking Malfoy behind my back– “and we’ve met up a few times since then. It’s nice to have someone… uninvolved to talk to.”

Tom looks amused at that. He’s definitely involved in the demise of Harry’s relationship, and if there’s one thing they haven’t been doing (but probably should), it’s talking.

“I’ve been helping him expand his horizons,” Tom says without apparent innuendo, yet somehow the layered meaning is still obvious. Prat. “Getting him to try new things, keeping him busy.”

“You and half the town,” Malfoy mutters under his breath.

“I see…” Ginny says over him. “Funny how that escaped the rumour mill.” 

Harry laughs awkwardly, wishing for a stray lightning bolt to strike and put him out of his misery. “Must not’ve been exciting enough.”

The conversation dies for long enough to become uncomfortable - well, even more so. Malfoy touches Ginny’s elbow and leans down to speak into her ear. Harry seizes their distraction to turn on Tom.

“Are you sure you don’t want to piss on me to mark your territory while you’re at it?” he asks dryly.

Tom wrinkles his nose delicately in disgust. “No need to be crude. Though…” He gives Harry a considering once-over. “I’m not at all opposed to the idea of you carrying my mark. How do you feel about tattoos?”

Harry snorts. “Not a chance.”

The other man tucks his face in close to Harry’s, breath hot against the skin beneath his ear. “What about bruises?”

As though he doesn’t regularly leave an abundance of those on Harry anyway, what with his penchant for treating Harry like a chew toy. Harry shivers all the same, just a little bit. He can feel the barest brush of Tom’s grin against his neck.

Ginny clears her throat pointedly.

“Good to know,” Tom breathes as he pulls back.

Ginny continues trying to talk to him while Malfoy makes the odd snide comment, Tom attempts to meld into Harry’s side while replying for him and being subtly insulting, and Harry tries to become one with the floor. He realises he’s missed a question when he breaks out of his daze to find both Tom and Ginny are watching him expectantly.

“Huh?”

Ginny starts to say something when Tom cuts her off. "Care to dance?"

If looks could kill, Tom would be in a bad way with how Ginny’s glaring at him. "Harry doesn't dance," she says tetchily. Tom doesn't bother with her, waiting for Harry's wary nod.

He looks back at Ginny smugly. "Perhaps yet another new thing to which I can introduce him.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Harry says, grabbing Tom’s wrist and dragging him towards the dance floor. Best to get this over with, and all the better if it means he doesn’t have to speak with anyone else in the meantime.

"She's not wrong," he mutters once they don't have to fear being overheard. "I don't dance.”

"Just follow my lead," Tom replies easily. “Would it be correct to say you don’t particularly care about stepping on my toes?”

Harry stares at him blankly for a moment before he feels a reluctant smile appear on his face. “It might be the one redeeming part of this.”

“The only one?” Tom says archly, pulling him into the correct hold. And, without giving Harry a chance to breathe or think, they’re off in what Harry thinks might be a waltz. 

"That was quite the risk you took," Harry says, trying not to stare at his feet and hoping for the best as Tom spins him around the room. He is, oddly enough, a much better dancer when he’s not constantly concerned about crushing someone's foot.

"Was it?"

"Yes. What made you think I wouldn't refuse and let you look foolish?"

He catches sight of a pleased grin on Tom's face from the corner of his eye. "The same thing that made me ask you to dance when I've seen your previous forays. You rise to the occasion when I push you.” He looks at Harry, for a moment, proudly. “I also knew you’d be more than amenable to anything that got you away from those two.”

Harry can’t deny that.

“Now look sharp, and do try to keep up,” Tom says, the hand at Harry’s lower back gripping him a little tighter.

“Wha–?” 

And it’s all he can do not to trip over his feet and take them both down in a painful sprawl, but the rush, the heady triumph of making it through the successive, intricate turns, goes straight to his head. Before he can stop himself, Harry lets out a loud peal of laughter, further disrupting the couples around them and drawing sneers and disapproving glances. And he just doesn’t care. Not that he thinks he normally would’ve, but it feels like it’s been ages since he’s felt so light and happy. So, he doesn’t think about the people around him. He doesn’t think about how it’s Tom who’s making him feel this way. He just basks in the sun-warm feeling of contentment – of being okay for the first time in a while.

(One night)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Margaret Killjoy’s “The Sapling Cage”

TODAY (Sept 24), I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

The Sapling Cage is the first book in Margaret Killjoy's new "Daughters of the Empty Throne" trilogy: it's a queer coming-of-age tale in the mode of epic fantasy, and it's very good:

https://firestorm.coop/products/21646-the-sapling-cage.html

Lorel wants to be a witch, but that's the very last of the adventurous trades to be strictly gender-segregated. Boys and girls alike run away to be knights, brigands and sailors, but only girls can become a witch. Indeed, Lorel's best friend, Lane, is promised to the witches, having been born to a witch herself.

Lane doesn't want to be a witch. She wants to be a knight. So she and Lorel swap places, so when the crones come to their little hamlet to collect the girl who was promised to her, it's Lorel who steps forward, wearing the black dress Lane's mother left behind. None of the townsfolk rate Lorel out to the witches, and just like that, she is on the march with the coven, a whelp – the lowest ranking inductee, aspiring to "apprentice" and then, "witch."

What follows is, in some ways, a very expertly executed coming-of-age story. Lane is getting trained up with the coven, among a new cohort of whelps of varying degrees of friendliness and hostility. The world is a richly realized fantasy landscape of monsters and giants, magic and political intrigue.

Lorel has signed up for witching just as the land is turning against witches, thanks to a political plot by a scheming duchess who has scapegoated the witches as part of a plan to annex all the surrounding duchies, re-establishing the long-disintegrated kingdom with herself on the throne. To make things worse (for the witches, if not the duchess), there's a plague of monsters on the land, and the forests are blighted with a magical curse that turns trees to unmelting ice. This all softens up the peasantfolk for anti-witch pogroms.

So Lorel has to learn witching, even as her coven is fighting both monsters and the duchess's knights and the vigilante yokels who've been stirred up with anti-witch xenophobia.

This is a good, sturdy, serviceable plot, and in Killjoy's hands, it is expertly handled. There are lots of reversals and double-crosses, brilliant fight scenes, all the things you could want in an epic fantasy. And of course, it's a coming of age, with Lorel seeing the world and discovering who she is and brushing away the comforting half-truths and lies her elders have cocooned her in.

That's where the fact that Lorel is trans comes in. Lorel is figuring out what that means, but she's also very worried about discovery. After all, she's entered the company of witches, the last all-female cohort in the land, and these are powerful women – what's more, they're anarchists, leaderless and fractious. Who knows what happens if Lorel gets discovered.

So you've got this incredibly well-turned fantasy/coming-of-age story going on, and Killjoy figures out how to work in this gender stuff not just as a way of doing "representation" or "queer joy" or any other value that's orthogonal to the literary merits of this as an adventure tale. Nor does she simply integrate trans-ness as an unremarkable fact of life, another kind of statement (indeed, there's plenty of queer characters in this story who are matter-of-fact in this manner).

No, Killjoy uses the special complications of coming-of-age while transitioning to heighten the stakes and thus fuel the suspense of the novel. In addition to all the normal merits of diverse characters, Killjoy is using gender issues to crank up the story, winding it up to a breakneck pace that makes the pages practically fly past.

Thematically, there's a bunch of chewy stuff Killjoy does with the way that magic transforms bodies, making monsters out of witches who push their powers too hard. The story has all these changing bodies – children coming of age, Lorel coming out as transfemme, the transformation of magic-users into monsters. It's just another layer of depth that supports a zippy, run-and-gun quest tale.

I've followed Killjoy's work for more than a decade, ever since her days publishing the seminal zine Steampunk (motto: "Love the machine, hate the factory"):

https://firestorm.coop/products/2624-steampunk-magazine.html

Years later, I had the pleasure of instructing her at the Clarion West workshop. She's published regularly all that time, and this is by far her most commercial – and, I think her best! – novel (to date).

Today, Tor Books publishes SPILL, a new, free LITTLE BROTHER novella about oil pipelines and indigenous landback!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/24/daughters-of-the-empty-throne/#witchy/a>

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 4 || 641 Words || Read on Ao3 —

4 October 1985

Harry bounces between his parents, one hand clasped in each of theirs as they walk through the streets of Hogsmeade. “Can we go to Honeydukes after lunch?” he asks eagerly, grinning a gap-toothed smile.

“How else would we round out our Hogsmeade trip?” James asks, lifting his arm up a bit and causing Harry to kick and giggle.

“We should stock up on Peppermint Quills for the holidays,” Lily grins down at him, stepping through the door to the Three Broomsticks that James holds open for them.

“Happy birthday!” Harry shouts into the room, and Lily and James both look up to where Minerva McGonagall sits at a booth not too far from the entrance. A serene smile spreads across her face as the small family makes its way towards her.

“Thank you, Harry,” she nods, accepting the hug he offers her as his parents echo his sentiments before sliding into the booth across from her.

“I didn’t see many students milling around,” Lily muses, craning her head to look out the window. “Is it not a Hogsmeade weekend?”

“The first Hogsmeade trip for students is next weekend.”

“Well thank you for stepping out of the castle to meet us,” James says with a smile. “You know how much I hate to cause you trouble.”

This earns a laugh from the older woman, whose brows raise in interest as James slides a large envelope across the table.

“I know I could’ve owled it, but there’s something more satisfying about handing it to you directly.” He watches as she opens it and scans the first page. “I’ve been focusing on the intersection between Transfiguration and Charms theory the last few years, and would love to discuss it with you. Maybe Filius, too, if you think there’s enough merit there.”

“We brought a real present for you, too!” Harry chimes in, pushing a small, wrapped box across the table.

“My, well…” Minerva’s eyes flit between the box and the research in her hand, before settling on the small boy in front of her. “Thank you for the gift. All of you,” she adds, gaze wandering up to the parents. It lingers there, shifting from Lily to James and back again, and something in her eyes softens as she looks at them—two of her pupils, years out of school, with a horrible war behind them and a happy family.

“The thesis on this looks good, Potter,” she acknowledges, shaking the parchment and herself out of her nostalgic stupor. “Term is in full swing right now and I want to give this the proper attention. I likely won’t get to it until the students start revising for end-of-term exams—perhaps we can discuss it in detail around the holidays once I’ve had a chance to read?”

James nods. “Of course, at your pace.”

“We’d love to have you over to the cottage for some Christmas tea again,” Lily invites, raking her fingers through Harry’s hair as he fidgets in his seat.

“I’d like that,” Minerva nods, eyes darting down to the young boy. “Besides, I imagine I should be enjoying all my winter breaks while I can. With this one starting Hogwarts in a few years, I’m sure I’ll be needed at the castle over the holidays to undo his messes, if he’s anything like his father.”

A warm grin breaks out on Lily’s face as she looks down at Harry. “He’s not that much of a troublemaker. I like to think there’s a good bit of me in there.” She looks across at her old professor as her hands slip to cover Harry’s ears. “Though we do have to contend with the Sirius influence,” she adds in an exaggerated whisper.

This earns a laugh from both Minerva and James as Madame Rosmerta sweeps up to the table to ask for their order, and the birthday lunch truly begins.

[st-juliet]

Utmost Merit, Part V

Character: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: Sherlock presents the Reader with a most unconventional proposal.

Content: Absolutely 18+ for very very very filthy language, smut with minimal plot, purposely unprotected sex, breeding kink, spouses-to-lovers, pregnancy, and some period-typical gender roles, but nothing unkind or insidious.

Notes: What if I told you I'm back?

Previous Chapters: Part I Part II Part III Part IV

The first week of your married life is like a dream.

The day after your wedding, Sherlock whisks you off to his family estate, a rambling manor house set back within acres and acres of woodland paths and open fields, even more beautiful than he promised. His brother and sister’s absence and his generous afternoons and evenings off for the staff give ample opportunity for you to indulge in one another…all over the house.

He takes you in the library, pressed up against the shelves; bends you over the billiards table; and, with a wolfish grin, kneels and turns his lips and tongue to profane purposes as you perch upon the edge of his desk, clutching him closer by his hair and crying out in exaltation.

At first, this heedless freedom of passion is enough to distract you from the feelings which only grow the more time you spend with your husband, from your hours on the train and in the carriage—the conversation flowing and gentle touches exchanged—to boisterous picnics ending in you laughing your way across the lawn naked, with your ravenous lover in hot pursuit.

In these tender and impassioned moments, you find you can forget yourself: your fear and your longing fade as he pins your wrists above your head and ruts into you like an animal, growling sacrilegious curses into your ear, or when he gently, maddeningly slowly drags the head of his cock across the delicate bud at the apex of your thighs, cooing, “Such an impatient creature you are, Mrs. Holmes. I’ll have your pleasure from you first, then I will give you my cock…”

But these interludes of relief, when you can almost pretend that he returns your love in full measure, are more and more fleeting. As soon as your head rests upon his chest and your eyes flutter closed, drowsy in the warmth of his arms, you must shake yourself awake again, lest some sleepy murmur of affection escape you. When he tosses and turns in his sleep, you long to comfort him with promises of eternal devotion, your heart a safe harbor for all his worries and fears, but you can only try to comfort yourself with the knowledge that at least you get to bask in the light of him for all your days, even if the shadows cast by that light mar your joy.

A fortnight since the wedding and near a month after you first gave yourselves to one another fully, those shadows have prevailed. For the third morning in a row, you have awoken melancholy and quiet, slipping out to walk the grounds before he wakes. Your heart is most compromised in the morning, seeing Sherlock at his most vulnerable: fluttering eyelids, half-parted lips, his colossal form stretched out and laid bare to your besotted eyes and fervent hands. If you woke him with a kiss—or anything more—you knew you might not leave bed for hours. 

But you cannot risk it today. If he so much as opened his eyes, your first words would be “I love you”, and the spell would be broken, the arrangement betrayed, the trust between two equals thrown into an even greater imbalance. You are protecting him, you reason as you quietly dress, from a revelation that would only cause you both greater pain. The fresh air, you hope, will do you good and clear your head, and perhaps you will contrive as you walk some means by which you can fall out of love with the man who, you suspect more and more each day, has already given you his child.

Hours later, having traced course of a babbling brook back and forth a half dozen times and circled the tallest tree of the estate over and over again, your spirit and body grow weary—and your stomach unsettled—and you know you must return home. As you approach the house, you can see Sherlock through the wide window in the parlor, fully dressed and pacing back and forth, raking his hands through his hair. He catches your eye through the glass and, to your dismay turns away, whether in anger or embarrassment you cannot tell. Your heart plummets. You know you must go in to him, and when you arrive in the parlor, he faces you and acknowledges you with a slight bow, as if you were virtual strangers again.

“Was your walk pleasant?”

“Yes, thank you.”

For the first time since his proposal, a tense, wary silence grows between you. His manner is as sober as your own, and you uneasily hover in the doorway, unsure as to whether he welcomes your presence or would rather you go right back out again.

“Will you come and sit with me?” he asks at last, and you gingerly join him on the settee below the window. Not quite meeting your gaze, he continues, “Rosamund, these past few days, I have sensed a distance, such as has not been since we were strangers. Even when we…when I hold you most nearly…a veil has fallen between us.”

“I cannot deny it,” you murmur, steeling yourself for the conversation you have been dreading.

“Do you know the cause?” he asks.

He knows. He must know. And now he would have you name it.

“I know…I have realized that our feelings for one another…differ.”

He nods slowly, murmurs, “I have deduced the same,” and turns his face away from you, taking a slow, deep breath. The moment seems to stretch for hours, each second heavier than the last.

“Well. We are more fortunate than most,” he says at last in a measured tone, a pained smile barely flickering across his lips as he glances back at you, only to look away again immediately. “In that our minds, our tastes, and our purposes in life are so aligned. It would have been too much to ask of providence that our hearts be likewise matched, do you not think so?”

“Indeed,” you manage, feeling tears pool in your eyes. You know he does not mean to hurt you, in bringing this matter to light—entirely the opposite. You promised one another perfect honesty, but you began to think suffering in silence and doubt was far better than this excruciating surety: he had recognized your love, but did not requite it.

“If you are yet amenable to our shared purpose, I myself am wholly undeterred. Every word I have said to you is true: my respect for you, for the exemplary wife and someday mother you show yourself to be, takes precedence over all. But given the circumstances, we might perhaps continue with a more…restrained approach. If you prefer to cease our relations for the moment and wait until such a time as you may have surety of your condition, I will resume my lodgings at Baker Street in anticipation of a verdict. We may then renegotiate our terms, one way or another. But you must know that no matter what, you will never be without my protection and devotion. And my utmost fidelity.”

“Oh, oh, no, Sherlock, how could I ask—?”

“And, if one day you find you love another—”

“Love another?! I could not love another, I love only y—!”

“—I will turn my eyes away and bear it without hesitation or complaint. But I can no longer pretend! I love you. I will love you till my dying breath and whatever remains of me beyond this life will still seek your service, your comfort, your good. I cast myself upon your mercy, Rosamund!”

Sherlock Holmes, his eyes brimming with tears, falls upon his knees before you, taking your hands in his.

“Will you forgive me that I cannot pretend any longer? Will you still have me? Will you still allow me to be a husband to you, to care for you and build a life for you and for our…?”

His voice trails off into a stifled cry, and you throw your arms around him, covering his face with kisses as your own tears flow.

“Sherlock! Please, oh please don’t cry, my love!” The torrent of adoration you have stemmed for so long pours fourth from you as though a dam had burst. “My dearest friend, my very heart…we have mistaken one another! I thought you did not love me!”

Sherlock’s demeanor shifts in a heartbeat, as if he has been struck by lightning.

“You love me?”

“I have loved you since long before I knew it! And every minute we share delivers me a new reason to love you more, every day better than the last, every word I speak to you a profession of my love! I could not pretend either…for no other reason could I tear myself from your side. Forgive me my coldness! I thought it for the best—”

“No, no, there is nothing to forgive,” he insists, rising and drawing you up to stand, completely enveloped in his arms, pressing fervent kisses to your cheeks and forehead and lips. ““I have most of all deceived myself in swearing I was no romantic! What a fool to think I could resist the call of a soul’s companion? My perfect angel, my salvation! I will spend a lifetime making up for a month’s lack of telling you of my love.”

“I shall never grow tired of it,” you promise him, each breath a sigh of relief, a prayer of thanks, a new dawn of hope.

“There is no man alive who knows my joy, nothing on earth that can surpass it!”

“Nothing?” you reply very quietly, unable to be measured or careful now…it was far, far too late for that. “Then you do not wish to hear of another happiness?” For the second time in a single morning, the whole earth’s axis shifts as Sherlock’s eyes widen. You quickly continue, “It is early yet. Too early. But yet I…I feel it, in my heart, as surely as I feel I love you.”

Sherlock Holmes bows his head and weeps in earnest, burying his face in your hair as he holds you tightly and whispers over and over again, “My love, my wife…”

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