#he wouldn't be happier with more debts

[buttercuparry]

Tell me why would Joe take on more debts to pay off the loan his adopted mom accumulated while caring for "him"? What sense is there to take on loans from not one, but two people, to keep off loansharks at bay and then working again to pay off those debts...

Listen I know Wut and Sol are Joe's friends, but they don't know that this new guy is THEIR Joe. This makes a difference in itself.

So Joe offering up a year of his life to Ming is not him choosing Ming over them. This is where people are making a mistake! There is no Wut/Sol vs Ming. If you absolutely have to compare, then a better fit would be Joe going to Tong vs Joe turning to Wut.

Wut is ready to take out money from his own savings to help pay off the hospital bills of this newbie, who reminds him of his old friend. As a good boss he would do it. As a guy who feels guilty over his friend's death, Wut would do it. But Joe REFUSES, ABSOLUTELY REFUSES to take handouts! He keeps on saying that his death is no one's fault but fate's decree. So he would rather work for a asshole and earn the money. It is who he is as a character, what the fuck can you do about it?

And about Sol? Again Joe refused Sol's money but accepted the job offer. That's a thing he did! He didn't dismiss Sol, and stupidly serve himself up to Ming.

Also let's talk about what happened back at Mrs Ing's house when Joe asked Ming to leave.

" I always get what I want" , this was Ming's threat to Joe. This is Joe getting threatened by the same guy who uprooted every single inch of Joe's previous life just because of his jealousy. Tell me why wouldn't Joe be afraid of Ming doing something drastic when not only is there a disease eating away at his new mom, but there also is the threat of bodily harm from goons. Why is it then so wrong of Joe to fight fire with fire? Why is it wrong of him to actively take control of a situation and make a deal with Ming.

And yes, Joe is being a active character here by listing his expectations of payment and the time period of his service. It is not Ming who made the deal. Joe managed to seal the deal before Ming could act out and destroy both Joe and his mom's life.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Manticore's Game

Kinktober Day 11: Paralytic Venom

Male Manticore Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, nonconsensual to consensual, venom, paralysis, non-human genitals, manticore, nibbling, licking, playful yandere, sweet yandere, general yandere behavior, he fucking purrs like a big house cat y'all, happy ending, kinda fluffy Word Count: 1k (I wrote this relatively quickly just today. I hope you all love it. Someone wanted me to write happier endings and yeah I do need a few sprinkled in a bit more often.)

There were reports of a mighty beast-like man devouring sheep from the flocks of the shepherds on the outskirts of the kingdom. It was in your jurisdiction, so you sent some lesser warriors to investigate and resolve the matter, but they had retreated in terror and refused to go back.

You were the head of the lesser noble house that oversaw the region and a skilled knight, and none of your subordinates were up to the task of defeating the monstrosity. So it seemed the task fell to you personally.

Bravely, you went on your own to the mountain village and tracked down the monster's lair. You found him at the entrance to his cave. He towered above you, fangs bared. You could see why the others had retreated. He was a rare and powerful creature, a manticore!

The beast had long shaggy hair that started black but ended in red, yellow eyes, fingertips with retractable claws, massive black and red wings, and a large scorpion tail.

Unlike the others, you fought through your fear and charged. You tried bashing him with your shield. But the manticore blocked the blow with his muscular arm before stabbing its tail into a chink in your armor.

You buckled instantly, falling to the ground like a chunk of lead. You couldn't move and were completely helpless as the monstrous man crouched beside you and removed your armor piece by piece. The last one that he removed was your helmet. After he removed it, you could smell the musk practically rolling off his crotch.

He wore no clothing, though he was covered in fur from the waist down. You were sure he was going to kill you, but instead, he stung you a second time, and you woke up hours later beside the village with no weapons or armor.

It was humiliating. Of course, you had to restore your honor. But you also weren't unfair. The next time you faced him, you used a blunted blade. He hadn't killed you, so you wouldn't kill him. Though you would imprison him as a livestock thief and make him work off his debts.

Once again, you ended up on the ground after the first sting. The beast stood over you and laughed before taking your belongings to taunt you. After that came the second sting, which sent you to sleep. Once more, you woke up outside the village.

It went on like this for months. It became the manticore's favorite game and your greatest embarrassment. He must have collected dozens of sets of armor as trophies.

Once more, you tried to best the beast, and once more, you wound up on the floor. This time was different, though. After removing your bothersome armor, he hauled you into a cotton and feather lined nest.

And, for the first time, the manticore spoke.

"Azin is in rut. Need mate. You're Azin's best friend! Always play games! You're all Azin thinks about. Will make the best mate."

He didn't stop at removing your armor. He took away all your clothing and didn't administer the second sting that would put you to sleep.

Azin purred loudly as he nuzzled his head against various parts of your body. He flipped you onto your back and licked and nibbled on your chest. His cock was hard, It stuck out large and proud from his sheath. It was also much muskier than normal, the strong smell alone made your crotch tingle.

You were a little scared but were more embarrassed than anything else. Maybe the venom had mellowed you out a bit, or maybe you just felt that comfortable with Azin after all the non-lethal combat the two of you had engaged in. If he wanted to hurt you, he would have.

His slimy cock craved the warm embrace of your hole, but even in rut Azin had the presence of mind to stretch you out first. Using gobs of precum as lube, he carefully tended to your entrance with several strong fingers.

Once you were good and prepped, he propped your legs up on his shoulders and then slipped his entire length into you with one fluid motion.

"Ahhhh," he sighed, "You take Azin so well~"

And he filled you so well. You would have been moaning, but all the paralytic he had envenomated you with would allow were soft gasps and whimpers. Azin licked and sucked your neck, your cute little sounds of pleasure spurring him on and into a frenzy. He pushed you into a mating press, his large furry nuts smacking into you as he bred you.

Nothing in your life had ever felt so good. No, not just good, but right. Having him pounding into you just felt right. Your paralyzed managed to shake slightly in orgasm just as he emptied his cum deeply into you.

"Azin loves you so so much! Going to breed you lots and keep you safe always!"

The two of you panted a bit before going several more rounds. When it was finally over, the venom had worn off. You cuddled up to him, his loud rhythmic purring helped lull you into the best sleep you ever had.

Of course, when you woke up, you'd have to do the only thing you could... take him back, marry him, and have him live with you in your little castle. There was really no other honorable option.

Azin's kind mated for life. It would be cruel to abandon him, and you had come to see him more and more as a friend rather than an enemy. You couldn't exactly just imprison him and make him work now.

Marrying him was honestly the perfect solution. With him at the castle, he wouldn't be stealing food. And just the fact that your house had a manticore would ensure safety from political rivals. It would be a great way for him to make up for his unlawful consumption of sheep. What assassin would dare trespass into the home of such a beast?

Sure, you'd be known far and wide as the monster fucking noble, but at least the dick was amazing!

[greennlin]

loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter.

part one out of two.

xiao was busy. you'd signed up for this when you accepted him into your heart. you knew he wouldn't always be the most present lover, but you were okay with that... right?

lately, it seemed he never had time for you anymore. he would leave your shared room early in the morning, and be back well after midnight. it felt like you were never able to see him anymore, like he was more of a roommate than your boyfriend.

you were more than aware of the karmic debt plaguing his existence, how the gales of the storm that manifested in his soul raged without relent. once, you believed that you quelled these winds. once, but not anymore.

from the balcony where you stand fixed, the sight of your lover and the traveller engraves itself in your mind all over again. like an anchor weighing in your heart, the image suffocates you, but you can't seem to look away.

xiao had always been rather friendly with the traveller. he'd always answer their call right away, whether he was in the middle of something or not. he would drop everything to go meet them. he'd call them a close friend. for a while, you believed his words.

but is what's transpiring between them close friends? the way he doesn't flinch back when they get so close that their noses practically touch? the way he holds their hands like he'll never let them go? the way he smiles and laughs, when he never smiles nor laughs with you?

minutes feel like hours until finally, his gentle but calloused hands you grew unacquainted withdrew from the travellers hand. with a flash of green, he disappeared. but the traveller's gaze stayed.

from the sudden creak of wood from behind you, it wasn't hard to guess who'd just showed up.

"oh," he says, his tone distant and far. "you're still awake?" though he asks it as a question, there is no concern behind the words. no worry as to why you were up this hour. the words feel empty, and lifeless.

you can't bring yourself to look at him. not after what you just saw. all along, all these months of slow but sure detachment between you and your... lover, if you could even call him that now. all these months, subconsciously you knew that he'd found someone else. that someone knew had made him feel at peace. happy, like you used to make him feel.

maybe even happier.

"xiao," you say desperately as you hear him leave, "i love you," maybe, he'll say it back. in the seconds that he remains silent, hope blossoms in your chest. though the chance is slim, maybe he'll say it back. maybe im just thinking things, maybe he really does-

"i know."

his words crash into you like a tidal wave. he meets your eyes. his amber eyes are hard and cold, as if your words didn't mean anything to him. eye contact only lasts for a few minutes before you stare at the ground, eyes stinging.

"oh.." not even listening to your sorrow, he walks away, leaving you all alone. only the moon bears witness to your sorrow; the betrayal of a lover who you thought would love you forever.

though the balcony floor is hard and cold, you'd rather sleep here, than in the despairing hard and cold gaze of your xiao.

[swannieluv]

｡ﾟ･The Bold Mendacity - 𝟕. Like mother, like son.

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐆.𝐈 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 <3

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐜: 2,7k

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!: Description of poverty, a bit of self-degreding(?), flood.

✦⸼࣪⸳𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨: ♡

✦⸼࣪⸳ A/N: Hiii. Hope you enjoy the chapter, I guess this chapter's the one I put more effort into until now. I thought it was interesting to play with perspectives so... I also think my writing has been getting better along with the chapters, not sure tho. Reblogs and comments would be highly appreciated <3

Life definitely wasn't easy for the poor, this lesson was learnt by Freminet from a young age. While Fontaine was characteristic for the wealthy who would throw banquets and squander their lavish lifestyles as if it was a trend, there was the poor worker class who lived with nothing but the spares of what was supposed to be “human rights”.

But for Freminet, it wasn't an inconvenience as long as and his mother were together. The latter would spend most of her time working outside while Freminet was left to the loneliness of the small cubicle, making sure their poor house wouldn't flood with the water that entered through the countless holes in the ceiling because of the intensity and cruelness of Fontaine's rain to the poorest. It was his role to take care of the house while his mother was away.

They didn't have the financial conditions to buy new furniture – though he didn't know the reason; no mother would have the heart to expose their child to the cruel reality – so most of the ones in their home were repaired by Freminet when he was bored.

He would always be waiting for her to come through the front door, holding the just repaired objects she would bring home everyday. Objects that never were seen again by Freminet. Yet if his mother was happy with it, he would bear a smile for her too.

Though he was a rather obedient child, Freminet would often find himself wanting to explore the underwater. His mother didn't have anything against his hobby of diving.

Even if she didn't have the time to take him diving more than once in a week and the lack of money to invest in his abilities, his mother never once tried to shut Freminet out of his passion, making sure her son had a life in which he could be happy.

A child shouldn't suffer because of their parents' mistakes, right?

She many times thought of leaving Freminet behind and Fontaine behind. Her dream had always been living abroad, after all. If she did run away, her life would begin from the start somewhere like the places in the postcards she so carefully kept inside the old drawer.

On the other hand, those feelings were always buried and forgotten whenever she met those innocent blue eyes again. While one could consider Freminet as a living chain she was bound to, there was no doubt Camille was happier than ever since her son's birth.

And so his mother, Camille, worked harder and got to buy him the diving equipment he needed. She knew that their situation demanded her to save money, she had to save as much as she could so as to give Freminet a chance to escape this hell hole of a life.

So on the top shelf, out of her son's reach, was a pot of coins labeled as “Fremi’s dreams”. Every single cent she could spare was kept safe so Freminet could have a small portion of the childhood he deserved, saving enough money to realize whatever wishes Freminet kept for himself.

It should have been like that. But joy is short-lived in a poor person's house, especially if you live in a bad location.

Camille worked as a waitress in a local restaurant in Fontaine. Getting paid enough to survive, but not to live comfortably. The amount of stress she had to undergo just so she could raise Freminet and pay the debt left behind by his father was admirable.

It was just the usual working day for her, who was greeted with the scorching sun rays as soon as she stepped out home. How would she know there was going to be such a storm when the skies were cloudless?

Her soaked figure had just reached the front door before hesitantly turning the doorknob with her calloused fingers; a feeling of dread in her throat as soon as she stepped inside. What met Camille wasn't her joyful son with a new repaired object, but a crying one, and water.

In Freminet's arms were countless coins he so hard tried to save from the water’s way. His eyes were red as he hiccupped; the poor child was scared.

A hole in their ceiling made the rainwater leak all the way to their small living room, flooding it alongside with the other rooms. There wasn't something such as a hole this big before, so her eyes widened as she noticed the consequences of it.

The broken part of the ceiling had fallen exactly on their shelves, exactly on the coin pot. Almost six years of hard work were lost in a blink of an eye, the water taking it all away as the coins passed through her feet.

Freminet was crying not because of the water, but because he had failed his mother. His only duty while she was out was to take care of the house, and look what happened. His hot tears getting cold with the cruel raindrops that fell on his face.

So with a tear-stained face and a shaken smile, her words to the poor boy were:

“I'm sorry, Freminet.”

There were few occasions in which his mother would take him to have some fun outside of those moldy walls.

Freminet was on the way to the temple, holding his mother's hand tightly as he would always be told to do. The face of the woman beside him carried a bit of bitterness.

With his child innocence, he couldn't understand the reason behind her constant nervousness and worry. But if there was one thing about his mother that Freminet strongly believed, is that she had the best of intentions and should always be trusted.

Freminet knew exactly where they were going: to the Temple once again for food. He had never quite understood why they needed to wait in line for hours before getting a small portion of basic aliments, instead of going to the market like the families he used to see through the window.

“Stay by my side, will you? I know you're a good boy, Freminet."

Her soft smile was enough to reassure him through the bad moments, just like the sun after rain. Freminet's mother was his world, she was his solace, his abode. The only one who cared about him when the world seemed to have forgotten them.

“Yes… I'll stay here with you and won't go far.”

And so they crossed the Temple's silver gates along the small crowd of injured and hungry Fontaineans. From afar, one could see the volunteers preparing themselves to attend to all those people's needs as they could. There weren't any melusines, something he found odd since they're always present in Fontaine's ambience.

As usual, everyone formed a line and waited. Freminet wasn’t one to complain about things; so when he does, it's because he definitely feels it. The only word he could come up with to describe the situation was: boring.

Freminet put a hand on his pocket; his finger met with the cold metal of nails and other small gears he had. His hand touched the surface of something he repaired earlier: a mechanical dog small enough to fit in a hand. He thought of giving it to his mother when they go home, believing she would be proud of him for being able to fix it up.

Although what he saw when looking at her was the poor woman's pale face. It absolutely startled Freminet; his mother was the strongest person he knew, so what could be so dreadful to cause this effect on her?

Camille took a deep breath before putting a smile on her face, betrayed by the shakiness of the hands she put on his shoulders. Freminet's mother then met his level and whispered for him in a calm, yet commanding, voice:

“Freminet, mommy's just going to have a chat with an old friend. Okay?”

Just as Freminet's lips parted so as to form a sentence, she had gone. He was left alone, nervous to know what was happening and why his mother left like this. It was when he saw someone in the corner of his vision, a child coming his way.

He froze in place. Freminet had been taught so as to not stare at people and leave as soon as someone he didn't know tried any contact with him. However, he didn't know where to go. So what should he do? Stay or run to wherever he could?

The more Freminet thought, the more anxious he got. His hands started sweating from his nervousness until he finally took the decision to run. His mother wouldn't mind him disobeying if that meant he was safe, or so he thought.

As he rushed through the people, his eyes found an escape route. One of the doors to one of the gardens was left open by someone. For him, the outside would be the perfect hiding spot since he could just climb a tree or hide in the tall grass.

Was it stupid to run away from a child? Maybe. But who could blame poor Freminet when he was that nervous?

His plan was simple: stay hiding behind one of the marble pillars; and if they tried to go after him, he would run again somewhere else. This way, he would know his way back to his mother and be safe again. It was supposed to be a good plan, except that he didn't expect for the other child to suddenly fall in the lake.

He walked to the lake's edge, waiting to see if they would just emerge from inside the waters or not. From what he was seeing, the lake was too shallow for one to drown. His hands fidgeted as he tried to get a better look on where they were.

Why weren't they coming out?

Freminet thought carefully before entering the lake. His mind echoed his mother's teachings on how helping someone else was a good thing, if that didn't mean putting his life in danger. He was disobeying her for the first time in his life, wasn't he?

And that was likely his best decision in life.

Back at home, Freminet looked through the window once again. But he wasn't lonely, he now had someone to talk to, the child he saved was now his first friend ever. That meant his trips to the temple with his mother were not going to be as boring as before, and he was anxiously waiting for the next one for the first time.

“Fremi?”

His mother's tender voice caught his attention; he had been working harder to help her in order to make up for the stress he put her through at the temple. She didn't get mad or anything at him, as she understood his side when he explained his reasoning to run.

In her hands was a plate with hard bread to eat so as to not let him go to bed with an empty stomach. It was the best she could bring from work, even though she herself would stay hungry until the next day. He couldn't help but notice her thin frame, a consequence of her selfless nature. She then left the room before he could say anything, looking slightly shaken.

One of the most common mistakes of a parent is to think their child is oblivious to their suffering. Freminet wasn't dumb, he could notice her sadness hidden under her small smiles and silence.

So he spent the next day fixing an old pendant his mother had found on the way back home some other day. It was a mystery to them on how it worked, so it had been left to dust on the same shelf the coin pot used to be.

“Mom!”

He ran excitedly to the front door, hugging her before she could even take off her boots. In one of his hands was the pendant he had been so eager to fix, now clean and working. It was the thing that took him the longest to adjust.

“I fixed it for you.”

Her face lit up at the sight of the pendant. Camille had thought her son had just given up on that thing, he even said to himself that it was too difficult to fix. Yet, she kept it due to how pretty the pendant looked like.

“It's… thank you, Freminet.”

It seemed like all her stress simply disappeared. Her arms embraced him in a warm hug as she felt like crying, but one of her principles was to not cry in front of Freminet. She would never do it, not in a happy moment.

As the first musical notes started coming out of the object, she couldn't stop thinking about how gifted Freminet was when it came to dealing with mechanical stuff. A part of her felt guilty for how she had been exploiting his abilities without his knowledge, but she couldn't help when it was a way to get more money.

They spent their time there, by the door, listening to the melody coming from the pendant. At the sight of Freminet's happiness, she could help but smile. But this time, it wasn't a fake one to appease him or anything; her smile was genuine.

Freminet's mother was everything to him; his pride and joy of every single day. Seeing her in front of him with a smile on her face is what keeps him going every single day.

“Mom… I made a friend.”

“A friend…” she repeated his words with a surprised tone, “that's awesome, Freminet.”

She kissed his forehead before bringing him closer, hands caressing his head ever so delicately.

“You have a friend now, and that's better than anything else. You don't need to make many friends, but have trustworthy ones.

“Mom’s happy for you, Freminet. You can always count on me to help you, and remember: friends should always trust and care for each other.”

So now that Freminet has a friend, he'll do just like his mother said and make sure to take care of her friend. He'll try his best, even when his shyness makes it impossible for him to do something; he'll be there for them.

“[Name]?”

Their fingers unconsciously went to their throat. The day they lost their head wasn't something easy to forget no matter how much they've tried, the feeling of humiliation and hatred that boiled inside their veins would never be forgotten. Maybe if they had the courage to run away—

“Why are you crying?”

Freminet carefully approached them, holding the flower crown he had previously made in his hands. He might not know the circumstances behind their tears, but he tried to understand them.

Seeing he was met with no answer, he just placed the flower crown on their head. The daisies adorned their hair perfectly, it suited [Name] as if it was truly made especially for them. Maybe it was, not that Freminet had the courage to say it.

But what was more fitting was their meaning: new beginnings. A new life should be lived without fear from your last one, so why should they stay chained to the guillotine? It's easier said than done, even more with the circumstances around their death.

The flower crown was a painful reminder that they should be living this new life at their fullest, so why weren't they? [Name] felt like a caged dove for all their lives, but never once they had the will to change their destiny. It was quite hypocritical of them.

Freminet couldn't say [Name] didn't have their flaws, everyone does. But what bothered him the most was the way they tried to dismiss their feelings as if they weren't important.

And so he gathered all the courage inside of him and gave them a hug. His face wasn't embarrassed this time, but peaceful. He would help his friend just like his mother said, giving pats on their back as they sobbed on his shoulder.

“Let's celebrate your birthday while watching the fireworks. Okay?”

Freminet may be shy and a bit awkward, but deep inside he had a big heart and a weight to carry on his shoulders. A storm can destroy him, but as long as the people he cherish are well, he'll be fine. Even if that meant sacrificing his own happiness.

So even if his only worth lied on tinkering with mechanics or in the little diving he did when he could, Freminet wanted to try and go out of his shell.

Because just like everyone else, Freminet had his faults. And his main one was innocence, painfully reminded by the daisies he plucked from the ground with his bare hands.

[savage-sinister]

A Hymn for Thieves and Lawmen (6069 words) by Dave Strider Chapters: 2/?

Summary: Doflamingo's heart soars to have his beloved brother finally returned to him, and nothing will stop Doffy from smothering him with all the affection he knows how to give. All Doffy wants is to make Rosi a part of the criminal family he's built during his brother's long absence.

Rosinante has no heart beating in his chest. He is secretly the subject of the World Government's first attempts at what will one day be known as a Pacifista, and with the government watching through his eyes, and listening through his ears, could he disobey even if he wanted to? The longer Rosi spends with his brother, the more he desperately wishes he could.

-

The household was in shambles. Doffy, all broad smiles, had picked a wounded stranger up off the doorstep in his arms and introduced him to all of them as his brother, Rosinante. He had demanded that everyone should be happy to see him; and then he had spirited him off. Clearly, Doffy said, his brother had been through some terrible trauma, and he needed space for now.

Trebol had to restrain himself from listening at the door. Having to shoo little Baby 5 away from doing the same thing made it easier, but it was still a struggle. He called the other executives into the lounge and poured tall glasses of wine.

At least Diamante and Pica didn't look any happier than he felt. He glanced at Corazon's empty chair and wished he were there. Doffy would have let him into the room with him and his brother, Trebol was sure of it.

He downed his first glass of wine quickly and poured another one before any of them even spoke.

It was Pica who broke the icy silence first with his quiet voice.

"It can't be his brother. He died. Didn't he?"

"Sure fucking thought so." Diamante crossed and recrossed his long legs, fishing for his cigarettes in his front pocket. "If he didn't, why the hell show up now?"

The circle was quiet for another moment. 

"He wants something," Trebol declared finally. He stared down at his wine. "Hey, hey it's obvious, right? When do unwanted relatives show up?"

Diamante snorted and sat forward. "When they need money."

"When they need money." Trebol nodded. Obvious. It was obvious. "Look at him, eh? Probably up to his ears ruined in gambling debt and came to the last person in the world he thinks he can get a few berries from."

"Bastard," Pica snapped.

"So what do we do?" Dia asked. He lit up his cigarette with a flick of the lighter and the scent of it tickled Trebol's nose and made him sneeze.

Wiping his nose with his hankerchief, he frowned. "You know what a soft heart Doffy has. He'll give his brother anything he wants."

"He'll get taken advantage of," Pica said softly. It was just what Trebol was thinking too. If they weren't careful, a leech like this could take all kinds of advantage of Doffy's sweet nature.

"It's up to us to make sure that doesn't happen." Trebol finished his second glass of wine. His hands felt steadier as he put it down. "We'll keep an eye on him, find out exactly what he wants, and make sure we can show Doffy he's no good, eh? Honestly, it shouldn't be that hard."

Dia nodded, puffing away at his cigarette. "If he's just here to milk Doffy for cash, he'll pick up on it. Especially if we point it out. Probably it'll piss him the hell off, you know? Wouldn't want to be Doffy's brother when that happens."

Trebol mirrored Diamante's mean grin back at him. "Neither would I! That's if he really is Doffy's brother, which I expect is exactly what the young master is working on ascertaining right now."

He hoped so, anyway. Doffy had sounded absolutely certain of it already but…

The idea of Doffy stripping his brother to look for scars and birthmarks flashed through Trebol's mind and he pushed it away as it heated his face.

He swallowed, his mouth dry, and continued. "Hey, hey, but we better do our part, too. Dia, send somebody out to follow his trail. We need to know where he came from."

Diamante raised his cigarette. "Already sent Pink out on it, Tre. GIve him an hour or two and we'll know as much as there is to be known."

"Good man." That was a relief at least. Trebol would make his own inquiries based on whatever it was that Pink brought back.

They'd figure this out. This interloper wasn't just going to show up after how many years and disrupt their carefully built lives, and take advantage of Doffy, and pull him away from his real family.

Absolutely not.

Trebol wouldn't stand for it.

He poured a third glass of wine.

-

This was not the welcome Rosinante had been expecting. He had been ready to be interrogated. He had been ready to answer demands.

He had not been ready for Doflamingo to spirit him away into his bedroom, scoop him into his arms, and start sobbing.

He had only barely had time to take stock of his surroundings– stone walls, crates doubling as tables– before he was pinned on his back on the nicest piece of furniture in the room– a very large and handsome bed that smelled heavily of floral perfume.

Doflamingo pressed his face into the crook of his shoulder, arms around him. Though he knew his brother's sunglasses were askew and poking into his neck, Rosinante could barely feel them, or the tears that he was noisily gasping out.

Rosinante wasn't sure what to do. He hadn't expected something like this. 

He'd expected his brother to be cold, aloof, suspicious. All the things attributed to him as a feared pirate captain. 

But at the same time, maybe he should have expected it? Doffy had always been clingy– domineering?-- when they were together as children. Always grabbing for his hand, or putting his arms around him.

What would Rosinante's handlers think when they went over the recordings when he reported in? When they saw his vision blotted out by oiled pink feathers, and heard the feared captain Doflamingo sniffling and gasping into his neck?

They would find it pathetic, wouldn't they?

Did Rosi find it pathetic? Was that the source of the twisting ache in his stomach at the close contact? It must be. It was pathetic. If a marine behaved like this he'd be whipped and locked in the stocks for an hour.

Rosi would know. He'd gone through the same when he was younger.

He lay there as Doflamingo sniffled and stroked his hair. "I missed you, Rosi," he said, over and over.

Rosinante was sure his hands were shaking when he put his arms around his brother in return, for the first time in many, many years. He had to, he reminded himself, he had to play the part that was expected of him. It wasn't that he had missed his brother–

No, no that wasn't true, and he couldn't even fully articulate the lie even within his own mind. He had missed his brother terribly, for ages and ages. He had woken up in the darkness reaching out for a hand that wasn't there, time and again.

But his brother was a monster. And the hand was a claw. And his honeyed words were poison.

Rosi held him tighter, anyway. He held him tight and he failed to push away the old memories of his body close to Doffy's– hiding in fields and patches of garbage, his brother flattened on top of him to keep him hidden.

He smothered the choked noise in his throat with his power.

Doffy finally caught his breath and learned up, seeming deeply hesitant to move even an inch away from him. He straightened his glasses and reached down to wipe Rosi's face. His brother's warm thumb on his cheek streaked wetness across it, and Rosi realized that he had been crying too. He hadn't noticed it, it had just… happened.

The knot in his stomach tightened as he looked up at his brother, whose sharp face was red and puffy with tears.

"I missed you so much, Rosi. What happened to you? Where have you been all this time? Are you hurt badly?"

This part at least, he had been prepared for. He reached up and touched his own throat, opening lips to mime speaking, and shook his head.

Rosi had spent three months mute when they had been operating around his throat. The experience had impressed on him how much simpler it was to remain silent, and how people's expectations changed when they knew you couldn't speak.

And Rosinante did not trust himself to speak to his brother. 

The tone of his voice. A hesitation at the wrong time. A couple of words not carefully considered. Any of those things could give away the game and bring Doflamingo's suspicion on him. If he spoke, his brother would know. He would know he was here to betray him.

So he had decided to play mute. 

His power made it easy, and the scars around his throat sold the lie. Anything that was necessary to communicate, Rosinante could write, which would give him the time to carefully consider his words without arousing suspicion by his hesitation. He could keep messages short, and he could keep any lingering trace of the wrong emotions out of them.

It would be easy. All he had to do was not say a word no matter how much his brother pleaded.

-

Doffy had only barely managed to catch his breath enough to check on his brother. His face was sticky with tears, and his eyes hurt from crying, but he knew he'd been inconsiderate. Rosi was hurt! Rosi hadn't even spoken a word since he'd pulled him in the bedroom, just soft little huffs of air as he cried.

He wished he had a handkerchief to wipe both their faces, but that would involve getting up and moving from Rosi's side, which he refused to do yet. He wiped away some of Rosi's tears with his thumb instead, like he had when they were little.

Every reminder of those days was like a knife in his heart. 

Rosi wasn't dead! What had happened to him? Could they have somehow found him if they had just looked harder? Was it his fault they had been separated for so long?

No. We combed the whole area top to bottom. We looked for days. Pica kept looking for him for me even after I left for Mary Geoise. Rosi must have been gone somehow, or been hidden.

"I missed you so much, Rosi. What happened to you? Where have you been all this time? Are you hurt badly?"

Rosi opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Soft eyes wide, he clutched at his throat, and shook his head.

Doffy's mouth went dry as he understood the gesture. Rosi couldn't speak?

He clasped his hand over Rosi's, over his throat. "You can't speak?"

Rosi shook his head softly.

Doffy looked once more at the wounds and bruises over Rosi's body– and now that he paid more attention he saw the scars as well. His brother. His poor baby brother. Someone had hurt him. Today, and in the past.

Someone was going to pay.

"Is that new?" Doffy asked. "When you were hurt today?"

Rosi shook his head again. He felt his fingers close around his own.

"I'll kill them," Doffy promised, his voice coming out in a hiss as fresh tears stung the edges of his eye. "I'll kill whoever hurt you. Today, and any time."

Another shake of his head and this time Rosi pulled him closer. Doffy squeezed him. feeling sick and dizzy. Doffy had lost an eye to the mob so many years ago. And Rosi had lost his voice and who knew what else when Doffy hadn't been able to watch over him.

"It'll be okay, Rosi, I promise." His voice, usually so smooth and confident, broke slightly. It was the same promise he had made to Rosi years and years ago, and he hadn't been able to keep it.

Rosi reached up and stroked his fingers through Doffy's hair and he felt a soft thrill at the gesture.

Rosi needed him. After all this time he still needed him. And this time Doffy would keep him safe. He had the power to do that now, not like when they were children.

"Are you hurt badly? Let me see your wounds, Rosi. If you're cut I can stitch you up."

Doffy hoped that his brother didn't need any stitches, but he was still proud of the trick, and wouldn't it be nicer to put his threads through his brother than their doctor poking him with needles?

Rosinante froze like a frightened deer and pulled back, shaking his head, and Doffy realized he must have made a faux pas of some kind.

"Oh! I don't mean with a needle," he promised. "With my powers…"

Still, Rosi shook his head. He put his fingers together and shook them in the air. Doffy stared, trying to figure out what he was doing.

Rosi stared back at him. He raised his other hand and repeated the gesture against the flat palm of it.

Writing! It suddenly struck him that Rosi was miming writing.

A flood of relief went through him and he smiled. Of course, they could communicate like that!

Doffy waved his hand and his threads grabbed a notepad and pencil from the top of one of the crates nearby. He sat up, still straddling his brother— loathe to move any further away– and he handed him the implements.

Rosi scribbled on the paper and showed it to him.

[I don't think it's as bad as it looks.]

"I'd still like to look, Rosi. What happened?"

Another scribble.

[Marines.]

Marines. Of course it was marines. The fucking marines were always throwing their weight around. With the shabby way his poor brother was dressed, Rosi wouldn't have even had to do anything particular to make himself a good target. Like anyone else, they loved to kick around anyone they thought they could get away with.

He hissed and balled his fists. "I'll send out a hunting party."

Rosi grabbed his wrist and shook his head before quickly writing again.

[It doesn't matter. I just came to find you. And I did.]

Doffy's anger softened just a touch as his heart overwhelmed him. He probably would still send out a hunting party– the marines couldn't be allowed to think they owned the place– but it could wait. It could wait because his brother was here. His brother had been looking for him. They'd finally found each other.

And Doffy would forgive him for being frightened that night in the shack when their father had to die. Rosi was young. He was soft. He didn't understand. 

He must have understood now, or he wouldn't be here.

"I'm glad you're here, Rosi," Doffy cooed gently at him, hoping it would reassure him. He put his hand on his brother's cheek. "Let me take off your clothes and see how badly you're hurt."

-

Once again, Rosi was grateful for how circumstance fostered a tolerance of his hesitation, because he fumbled completely when Doffy asked to take off his clothes. His instinct was to say no– he should be appalled at the very suggestion. 

But it was another thing that brought back an unpleasant sting of horrible nostalgia. Doffy stripping him down, checking his bruises and cuts, looking him over for ticks and leeches from when they had to hide in brush or in streams. It had always made him feel safe, back then, to know that his brother was looking out for him. To feel his hands on his stinging, bruised skin.

Feeling safe around Doflamingo was the one terrible luxury that Rosi couldn't afford under any circumstances. 

If he felt safe around the evil pirate he had come to infiltrate and execute, then he might falter. He might hesitate. He might give the game away.

But he couldn't refuse without arousing suspicion either.

He wasn't worried about Doflamingo discovering his enhancements. Those were all buried under layers of tissue, joined with muscle and with bone. Nothing short of a major surgery would expose him, and if he was in the position to need such a thing he was already as good as dead.

No, the danger of Doflamingo putting his hands on him was less material, and more existential.

Like so many things in his life, Rosi would simply have to endure it.

He nodded slowly, and to make sure he was understood, made a quick scribble on the pad.

Two dots and a curved line.

He spread his arms and let his brother undress him like when they were little.

-

Doffy felt a sting of relief as Rosi showed him the smiling scribble on the pad. He had been afraid, when Rosi hesitated, that he had gone through some trauma that would mean he didn't want to be touched, or undressed, even by his brother. The cruelties men inflicted on one another were myriad and hellish, to find out that his brother had gone through–

He banished the thought and smiled, reaching forward instead to unbutton the few still remaining buttons of Rosi's threadbare shirt and peel it away from his sweaty and bloody skin. The material was coarse and harsh under his fingers. Doffy could imagine what it felt like on his baby brother's skin.

"You'll have new clothes," Doffy promised. "Silk, and satin. Furs and feathers." 

He remembered Trebol promising him the same when he'd come back to the North Blue. He'd been defeated and beaten on that journey, his simple clothes caked with mud and sweat when he'd returned. And when he'd fallen back in with Trebol and Pica and Corazon, they'd comforted him, and washed and fed him, and Diamante had given him his coat to wear, and Trebol had promised soon he would have soft and beautiful clothes.

He remembered how much it had comforted him, when he felt like he had lost everything, when he felt low, and bedraggled, to be cared for and be promised the world.

He laid his hands softly on Rosi's stomach, seeing the bruises forming there, and the bloody scrapes across his chest. His skin was rough, and there was hardly an ounce of fat on his body.

What had Rosi been through, that this was how he returned to him, fraught and frail like Doffy had been when he had stumbled his own way back to the North Blue?

Rosi looked down at him, as Doffy carefully checked his body over for wounds, his hands softly moving over every inch of him. It was bad. There were injuries that would take quite some time to heal. But Rosi was right. No broken bones at least, and no deep cuts.

He softly petted his hands over Rosi's shoulders and Rosi looked at him with big, hauntingly sad eyes.

"It's going to be okay," he promised again. "You're with us, now."

It was the same thing that had been said to him all those years ago. It was the most comforting thing that he could think to say.

-

As Doflamingo's hands lingered on him, the small hairs at the back of Rosi's neck stood on end. The soft, gentle touches were something he hadn't felt on his skin since he was a small child. He shivered under them.

He shivered too, at the promises. Doffy stood, and for a moment he walked across the room to fetch a basin, a pitcher, and a cool rag. Already Doffy was promising him riches. As he turned his back on him he promised him more.

"You're skin and bone, little brother. We have to feed you up. We have big meals around here."

Doffy knelt beside him on the bed and started cleaning him with the cool, damp cloth. It sent more shivers through him every time it touched him, except when Doffy washed his upper back, which felt like nothing at all, thanks to the old surgeries and scars.

All the while, Doffy cooed and made promises.

"Do you like jewelry?" he asked. "You should have some if you want it."

"We had a steam bath installed," Doffy said as he knelt down and washed Rosi's feet. "Have you ever been in one? Next time I'll give you a bath there."

Rosi's toes curled at the tickling touch. He felt dizzy at the unfamiliar, old sensation.

But more than that, he felt sick.

His brother was promising him the world, all the riches and evil of his ill-gotten gains. All the luxury that wickedness could buy. And through it all, we, we, we…

As if Rosi would be comforted to be at the sick heart of this nest of evil, surrounded by leering, malignant pirates who glutted themselves on lavish spoils that weren't theirs to take.

You're with us, now.

The promise was a warning, and it sent another shudder through him.

Doffy sounded so proud of it all.

Doffy's hands felt so good on his aching body.

[evilhasnever]

placeholder post for a drabble I might write, but please consider Meng Yao somehow stealing the secret of Wen Zhuliu's magic hand.

Imagine Wen Yao, in Nightless city, taking over WZL's role in some way (either by copying the technique, ingratiating himself as his student, or some situational cannibalism, all viable ways of stealing core melting secrets imho)

The ramifications are so juicy. Whether or not he tells WRH about his new skill, he is still indispensable to him, especially if WZL is out of the picture - and think about what he could do with a Core Melting Hand in his arsenal.

I'm just ruminating here, but I feel like it'd be a very convenient way to neutralize Nie Mingjue without killing him, for example.

Back in Nightless City, when NMJ is taken prisoner, Wen Yao could taunt him and then take away his cultivation - both for show (to appease WRH) and for self defense, tbh (he knows the fallout will be bad, and he is correct about this in canon). Granted, this would not make NMJ any less furious with him! In fact, he'd probably hate him more. But JGY would have the reasonable excuse that he did it as an alternative to killing him, and for one LXC would buy that, even if NMJ has his doubts.

What does that mean postwar? At this point, NMJ would just be a normal guy and wouldn't be able to hurt a cultivator, not even one with a middling golden core, which means JGY might not fear for his life and might not have to kill him. (NMJ, ironically, might get to live a long life! Has no excuse not to marry for heirs now, but can also continue to lead the sect and this means everyone [except him] is generally happier, including Nie Huaisang.)

What's more, if they decide to keep NMJ's lack of a core a secret not to make the Nie an obvious target, then the sworn brotherhood could be suggested specifically to conceal NMJ's situation, putting him in JGY's debt. There are a lot of interesting ramifications when you remove fear for his life as JGY's primary feeling when interacting with NMJ, and he may take Jin Guangshan's orders to get rid of him with a grain of salt - or even be able to convince JGS that it is not necessary if he leaks the secret of NMJ's missing core. (But the political fallout would then be an entirely different can of worms!)

Also LXC knows and he thinks thatJGY being able to rip out a dude's core but obviously not even considering doing it to him is very sexy.

(thank you server pals for brainstorming this blatant excuse for overpowered wen yao with me, bless)

[theviolenttomboy]

So it's all but confirmed now that Pikmin 4 is a soft reboot of Pikmin 1 as a 'what-if' continuation from the original bad ending, but from there it's a good ending for the other two games.

Because Louie is sent to PNF-404 to find Olimar, he can't perform his premeditated crime of stealing and consuming an entire shipment of golden pikpik carrots, meaning the company won't be sent into spiraling debt and the company president won't be hunted down by the mob.

Because of the above, Olimar will be allowed to go directly home, meaning his wife will be in a more stable mindset and won't be tempted by gambling and scams. His children will also be happier.

Meanwhile, the Koppai famine is in the horizon but hasn't actually happened yet. The many fruits you collect get extracted for their Sparklium but the fruits themselves are still left intact (as seen in Schnauz's Treasure Log). The three Koppai castaways you rescue postgame are heavily implied to be related to the Pikmin 3 captains, and, considering the Rescue Corps' generosity in sharing their resources with Olimar, I see no reason why the fruit wouldn't be just given away to prevent the famine outright.

Finally, because Moss is the new 'captain' of the Pikmin, the Pikmin won't be left to fend for themselves and wiped out again as soon as everyone else leaves. Presumably her future offspring will continue this mutualistic relationship, but we also don't have to worry about them potentially slaughtering the rest of the local ecosystem because while it's possible for the skills to be passed down, the gear won't.

[superloves4]

The Flame we Held (Fëanor son of Melkor AU) - Chapter 2

Relationships: Melkor/Mairon, Melkor & Fëanor, Mairon & Fëanor, Fëanor/Nerdanel Summary: Miriel made a deal with Melkor, she'd be able to bear children but in return the dark lord asked for her firstborn. When he gets imprisoned she believes herself to be free of her promise but Melkor shall claim his prize. TW: no major tag besides the kidnapping A/N: Still some angst, we'll get the softer part next time!

Masterlist and on Ao3

Melkor never thought back to that deal, in fact he might’ve forgotten all about it had it not been for the present situation.

His anger had simmered for every year spent trapped in Mandos, he had things to do, kingdoms to conquer, orcs to rule, Mairon to return to, he couldn’t stay trapped for all three ages, he had thrown plans at his metaphorical wall but none could be used, as long as he was chained none were achievable. Well, at least he could trust his brother to keep his promises, he knew some of the others would be pleased to keep him trapped there forever, if not even happier to throw him to the Void, but dear, affable, awful Manwë, wouldn't let them do as such.

So he turned inwards, that was what Manwë had hoped for him, something about how if he simply spent more time thinking about his evils he’d realize how wrong he’d been or whatever, but Melkor was firmly set on using his time to plan for his release instead. He would destroy everything his brother had created.

He searched in himself for some insight but for years he had nothing to show besides disappointment.

Nàmo’s halls were deathly boring, he could perhaps sense a few dead elves, it honestly offended him that there were so few he was certain he’d gotten rid of more, alas.

Flames.

Small, but even when they flickered, Melkor knew they were strong.

Those flames would survive the storm. But what storm?

Melkor was highly curious about the flames, where did they come from? How had he felt them so long after his imprisonment? There was something binding him to those flames, he could feel their call, but when he tried to reach out the flames seemed ever further away. He couldn’t simply will his chains into letting him pursue the flames, however, the chains felt lighter that day.

Flames, getting higher, enveloping him.

Some days, Melkor wondered if Eru had changed his mind, if he had decided to grant what he’d desired for so long, it didn’t feel the same as the Flames Imperishable but somehow something about the flames felt familiar, like a song he’d heard once. But that was impossible, he’d Sung this world into existence, no Song was beyond his memory. He could move around.

The flames were everywhere, they burned all they found and sung for him as they moved, waiting for him.

Then they were gone. And so were his chains.

Melkor could not believe his luck, it had taken him a moment to realize what was happening after that first time he perceived the flames, they were, after all, unlike anything he’d ever felt before and he’d never been much familiar with elven fëa but when he found himself moving freely he realized.

He had a debt to collect.

Eru was fair, Melkor had asked for a price and now he was to pursue his deal.

“I don’t feel him anymore”

Manwë stared at Nàmo in horror, they had always know his brother was strong but not even he should have been able to break free of not only his chains but of Mandos itself without notice. That was the type of power only Ilùvatar could bestow.

But why? Why would Ilùvatar free Melkor?

For once Manwë felt blind, he couldn’t understand what the All-Father wanted of him, was he to let Melkor run to whatever terrible deed he would pursue now? But the All-Father would not have let Melkor leave for dark purpose, it did not make sense.

“Send Oromë in pursuit, I do not trust him”

Nàmo stared at him for an uncomfortably long time, his blank visage made Manwë look away but eventually he did bow and left.

Manwë could only hope he’d done the right thing.

No, Melkor did not barge into the castle of Tirion, he had bigger plans than that, he had a brother to repay! He went first to the darkness, to where even the other pathetic Valar would not go and the Hunter would be left with nothing to follow, to Ungoliant.

He promised her the lights of the Valar but that was not enough for the treacherous spider and he had to then promise all the jewelry he could find, it bothered him to submit to her request, he was Melkor, the greatest of the Valar, but Ungoliant was different, only she could drive the revenge he wished for, who cared for a few trinkets after that, he could bear his wounded pride. Oh, how would his brother hate him for it, he felt… giddy, at the thought, and while they were all too busy crying the trees he’d take what was his.

He watched with pleasure as the spider did her job, but didn’t stay for long, it wouldn’t do well to stay, he didn’t think he’d be granted a second escape if he let this opportunity pass. So to Tirion he finally went, hiding until the world went dark.

He saw the one who now was the elven queen, her loving smile to his prize and the terrible realization when the light she’d grown used to, disappeared.

“Well met, oh, queen broidress”

He laughed and the woman held the child to her chest, backed away from him until all she was left was to hide in the corner, clutching his prize away from his vision.

“Please, please,” she begged in tears “Don’t take him from me”

“Oh, my,” Melkor walked around “The children sure are bold now, to try and go back on a promise.”

“The deal is null,” she tried to argue and Melkor shot her a dark look “I can no longer have children, Fëanàro is the only child I shall ever have, it is not what you promised”

Melkor shrugged “That is not my doing,” it truly wasn’t, there was no reason the foolish woman could not have any children after his blessing “I kept my part of our agreement, is the queen of the Noldor less trustworthy than I?”

She shook her head, looking at the child as she sobbed, her voice shaking she made a last plea.

“He’s all I have”

Melkor looked at her.

“In music, our words are binding”

On Ungoliant’s back, Melkor stared at the snow storm ahead of him, place the sleeping child inside his robes and remembered the vision he had in Mandos. The child would survive the storm.

[sunlessea]

m miellat is something of an enigma among the masters : an identity stolen, from another who had been missing for centuries now, lost somewhere even m rêves could not find, but now strangely all the more beloved by paris despite his own contentious reputation among the bats themselves. he's clung to his old penname for anonymity for aphrodite's publishings even now, but the binders full to the brim with manuscripts not yet finished are not mere love letters. the moment cassius helsing had been brought into the masters of the bazaar back in the era of london, he'd inherited quite a debt, not even his own : and how ironic, that he'd be near the only one taking their love stories so seriously.

he doesn't collect his stories from mere parisians.

"i think if you all stopped posturing, you'd be rather fond friends, if i'm being honest." he knocks ash from the pipe in his hand as he stares, overwhelmed, at the literary mess he's made, brows furrowed. he speaks, of course, to his affectionately coined batsband, whom is content to tinker in its own space. the mess in the middle of the room marks a clear transition from its space to his own, pristine and filled with books. "you're all quite a fair bit more human than i ever thought, and so similar. you're all just so bloody mean!" he huffs, eyes rolling up in his exasperation. "i'm hitting a wall."

he gestures to the stories-in-writing. each binder is embroidered rather beautifully with the names of all twenty-two masters of the bazaar, plus a secret three whom were not apart of the coalition but whom he considered important to its balance — m chandelles, m carillons (the imposter), and paris's camarilla prince. he had excluded himself, as he had no interest in writing a biography spanning now seven million years, with only a century or so relevant.

velours and chandelles are the thickest, for an entwined love story that has ranged over several thousands of years, full of betrayal and still to this day, yearning met with rejection. aciers and vadouvan follow after, rich tales of broody, temperamental individuals who had fallen for kindhearted individuals, against their natures. many of the binders are still scant, where he has yet to investigate each individual master, but others are started and at a standstill. brûlent and fantômes are difficult, with their elusive partners, and aurore is so very harsh in its continued rejections of the thinblood pining after it, though it had clearly allowed him survive london's quelling. cœurs is missing in action to this day, so following its trail is impossible as of now... he'd turned to writing m prisime's and m mourvèdre's tale, during his current block, and so now their bindings at last were beginning to fill.

in short, when it comes to chronicling the love stories of those who were never meant to love, it is quite a time consuming endeavor that required him to acquaint himself personally with every single member of the bazaar. much to câtâlin's chagrin, he's sure.

"m brûlent and adrien won't talk to me. any time i've attempted to question brûlent since london, it's made something up, and adrien is a very testy man. quick to anger. i don't understand why they don't want to change the way people see them, even now... they were drastically misunderstood in london, even by the rest of you. you'd think now that we're in a new city, they'd want to be seen in a happier light..." he frowns, moving his hand to rest 'gainst his cheek. he's sulking... "i can understand why fantômes doesn't want much out about 'moriarty' after finding out he's a giovanni who must have infiltrated the prince's territory, but why wouldn't brûlent wish for a sweeter love story in writing...? what did you jerks all even do to them to make adrien hate us all so much?"

he understands kindred politics even less than master politics! it's infuriating.

"and m cristaux is too much like you. forget its love life, i can't even find where it's sulking most of the time to speak with it!"

@londonfallen / mr irons [paris edition]

[savingthrcw]

and Rosa Santiago Appleton

bridgerton version

-at 18 was given as a bride to the 40 years old Lord Appleton (related to lord Greer) to repay a debt, to which followed literally 18 years of abuse; the physical part ended when her 18 years old son beat his father back and threatened to kill him if he touched his mother again. 2 years later her husband dies, much to her happiness. She takes time to find herself again, to slowly return to society and see other people again, and proudly goes by Lady Santiago. Her husband was known to be cruel and violent, so she does get sympathy from most. -she's now 42 with a 24 years old son (Avery) and a 18 years old daughter (Lydia) who is making her debut. Both kids use the last name Santiago when allowed to make that request. Rosa had trouble conceiving, hence the age gap and only two children. -very protective of young girls, her daughter is going to marry for love or else. She will make Lydia socialize with people at parties and townspeople as much as she pleases. -she's been free for 4 years and it's still hard to unlearn that she doesn't need to be living frugally and wear dark clothing, but she is full of life instead of timid, proud of the kids she's raised, and looking for a quieter, happier life. She's not even going to PRETEND she's sorry to be a widow, even when it's considered inappropriate. -they are not rich-rich, they will be reusing dresses during the season and not caring one bit. Her son will inherit more once married, it's in his father's will, but her mother has already warned him she won't speak to him ever again if he doesn't marry for love, they can be fine without luxury. Everything she can get from selling her husband's belongings and his yearly allowances (per his will) she'll use for her daughter.

in fa.llout she's no lady, but her backstory is pretty much the same, basically sold to this Appleton guy. Her story has to go differently given the fandom, and when she's 30 and her kids are 12 and 6, she kills him, buries the body not far from the house, and he was such a d*ck that no one questions his disappearance. She starts working right away, because she knows she can't rely on the little money they have aside forever and wants to put enough aside to move from that house. Takes her several years but now her kids have their own lives, are doing fine, and she's a mercenary who helps the Railroad whenever she can. She could be hired or persuaded to help depending on who she's talking to, not just as a muscle but as someone with MANY allies and connections and can repair pretty much anything.

modern verses (m.arvel etc) are preeeetty much the same except unlike with f.allout she wouldn't have been capable to murder her husband but she could have divorced him once older (she was scared and waiting for Avery to get older and then got pregnant again when she thought she couldn't be and said 'enough') to which followed a terrifying time of threats until her ex husband was killed by someone he started a drunk-fight with. She goes back to study while being an apprentice of a repairman and becomes one herself (which means she can be in whatever organization you want as the gal who fixes everything)

[neeharlow]

This isn't a thing asking for money, I just need to vent about a few recent events. The first thing, my husband and I are struggling. He had a good paying job, about 6k a month. But this job was soul sucking and stressful for him. Now, if he had the correct amount of support staff it wouldn't be nearly as bad. Because he had worked from being a regular security guard to an account manager he knows the hardship that the guards go through. He knows they are paid like shit. He would often have to ask people to work over time. But that's the thing. He would ask. Not once did he ever try to force someone to work overtime. He himself would fill in the position if no one was willing to work. So he'd often have to go to work on Saturdays or Sundays which happened to be over an hour away and that's not with Los Angeles/Inland Empire traffic. His officers were often times very fucking childish and would argue or complain about the work they had to do. Which he understood, totally not paid enough to dal with that level of shit. But it's still the job. Do the freaking job. Anyway, the company lost the account so he lost the position. (Oh and once everyone found out they were losing their jobs they turned on him and started telling lies about him to HR which he thankfully was able to prove were all false.) Now he's back to being a normal guard. And he's honestly a lot happier with his post. Nights. Walking back and forth in a truck yard. He gets to listen stuff on his phone and even better he doesn't have to deal with people. The only problem is he went from making 6k a month to 2k. Which I know is more than a pot of people make. And he is very thankful he even has the job. But after car payments, rent, groceries, insurance... we're in the negative. I get 1300 a month from disability (aka why after 18 years together we aren't married). My account is for rent. Thank god we live with his parents so we're not at risk of losing the roof over our heads.. mostly. His dad is a powder keg sometimes and has been emotionally abusive to him and his brothers so he avoids him like the plague. We have 22k in debt due to stupid stupid choices on both our parts. (in the past he got addicted to Star Wars Galaxy of Heros and ended up racking up 25k worth of mobile microtransactions. We have since gotten out of that debt. My vice is fast food delivery.)

He is willing to take on another job until we get out of debt. But that will not end well. I refuse to let him work all day, sleep for three hours and then work all night. It's not healthy. He has BPD and ADHD so it's a real emotional struggle to just keep up with this job. He already lost his health insurance so he's also unmedicated. With my health issues (dead kidneys, failing liver, Bipolar, ADHD, and heart issues.) I cannot get a job even if I wanted one. No employer in this day and age would let me have two days a week for dialysis not to mention all the medical appointments I have to go to. Plus I'm on the transplant list for liver and kidney, if I get that call that's automatically at least a year off of said work.

I know there are people worse off than us. I'm not dumb enough to think our problems are world ending. We are safe. We have a roof over our heads. That's more than a lot of people have. And we will come out of this eventually. His parents are also struggling so we can't really rely on them for anything. I'm just worried about him.

I'll make a different post for the other thing. :/

[fraink5-writes]

In the Names of Freedom - Chapter 15

This is terribly late. The next chapter will be on time though.

Thanks to the best @leio13 for her editing prowess!

Summary: After confirming the death of his latest target, Xiao’s secret mission is interrupted by an eccentric stranger in green, who claims to be Xiao’s protector! But the reality is much more convoluted… What destiny could possibly link Xiao with Venti—an assassin of hitmen?

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Sitting on Xiao's couch, lightly swinging his legs, Venti was a bit happier than he had been in a while, and the reason was simple: Xiao was actually kind. 

Over a week ago, Venti had been at one of the worst points in his life. After mucking up his relationship with Xiao, he had been abducted. And they abused him. Venti still wasn't sure how long he was there nor what was real or fake, but one thing was certain—he lost track of who he was and why he needed to keep living. In that dark chamber, he accepted death as inevitable and imminent, and he had even consented to it, nearly letting it claim his body on several occasions.

In the end, the one who rescued him was none other than Xiao. The very same Xiao that Venti had wanted to save no matter what. Venti's entire purpose of coming to Liyue was to save Xiao from the destructive path he was stuck in, but now Venti found himself owing the hitman a debt he might never be able to pay back. Fate had an ironic sense or humor.

Still, Venti couldn't be mad. In fact, he was content. Not only had Xiao freed him from the torture, but he also went the extra mile to make sure he recovered, keeping him housed, fed, and clothed even after the doctor had released him. It was the first time anyone had done any of those things for Venti in his life, so he was extremely grateful. And, on a more personal level, though Xiao would never be aware, he had revived Venti's reason to live. The story of Venti the Bard didn't end in a dark room, and Venti's efforts to rescue Xiao wouldn't end there either. Xiao thought that he could be no more than a murder weapon, and Venti had believed him. But now Venti was certain that Xiao was kinder than he would ever realize. At his core, he was someone who was capable of a more fulfilling life than the one he had fallen into, but he was blind to it. If he couldn't see it, then Venti was determined to guide him. Only by knowing the full scope of possibilities could Xiao really be free.

“Venti,” Xiao interrupted Venti's daze. "Are you ready to go?"

"Ready when you are!" Venti always had very little to his name, but currently he had even less. Of his original belongings, he only had his phone, which Xiao had snagged off his captors. Additionally, thanks to Xiao's generosity, he was able to buy a few pairs of more suitable clothing (minus the cecilia adornments, which were impossible to find in Liyue) and a decent gun, but that was about it. His lyre was still missing, and unfortunately, it would probably remain out of his reach until he could pull himself together a little more.

For now, Venti would follow Xiao, and their first order of business was an overnight train to Stone Gate. The train car was divided into smaller cabins, which each held two built-in bunk beds. Xiao and Venti had one half, and the other half was occupied by a pair of people who luckily got off at the Wangshu Inn. After they left, Xiao closed and locked the door behind them. Then, at around twenty-two o'clock, the train crew dimmed the lights in the cabin to facilitate sleeping.

Not that Venti had even considered sleeping. There were too many uncertainties parading through his head. Venti wanted Xiao to go to Stone Gate, to learn what was written about him. There were secrets there that Venti couldn't possibly share, and secrets he couldn't even know. But Xiao's life as he knew it began there, so he deserved to learn the truth of that place, and Venti wanted to be by his side when he did. Still, Venti was afraid. Would Xiao remember his previous life? And after learning, could he still remain Xiao?

Venti couldn't help but tap his foot with a prestissimo tempo. Ahhh… He so badly needed a drink… Xiao was extremely strict with Venti's spending and even more so with his drinking. But Venti couldn't take it for much longer. His nervous system shook and ached. It was parched for intoxication. Even one glass of wine would help. Anything. Even a different substance…

Venti glanced over to Xiao sitting on the berth next to him. If Venti's shaking bothered him, he didn't show it. In fact, he was moving to his own gentle rhythm. His head would dip, and then nod, and nod, and nod, and finally shoot up, only to fall again shortly thereafter.

"Xiao," Venti whispered.

Xiao's head flipped up, and he flashed Venti an alarmed stare. "What?!"

Oops. Venti stifled his chuckling. "You can sleep, you know…"

"I'm fine. I don't need to."

"You do need to. I know you haven't been sleeping well on the floor. You're so tired, you're practically sleeping already!"

Xiao opened his mouth to object, but Venti didn't let him.

"Look, the door is locked. It's only us two. It's about as safe as your apartment." Venti scooted closer to Xiao. "I could even fall asleep right now." He closed his eyes and presumptuously placed his head on Xiao's shoulder.

"Do you—" Whatever Xiao was going to say, he cut himself off with a deep sigh that even Venti could feel through his collar bone.

Venti grinned. In his head, he counted the measures of a melody he made up following the rhythm of Xiao's breaths. At the 75 measure mark, Venti felt a light brush of hair against his own. At 100 measures, after the tune had mellowed out significantly, Venti opened one eye and then the other. Tenderly holding Xiao's head, he slowly slid off his perch. Then, lightly sweeping his hand behind Xiao's ear and down to his nape, Venti laid his head on the cushy pillow. Finally, he removed his shoes and lifted his legs onto the bed.

"Sweet dreams, Xiao. No one knows what tomorrow's wind will bring, but I hope it leads to happiness."

[kouros-herc]

NAME: Hercules Kouros

AGE: 43

MAGICK STATUS: Gifted (Public Knowledge)

OCCUPATION: Gym Owner, Personal Trainer, Fitness Instructor.

BUSINESS DESCRIPTION: Olympus Gym, Swynlake. Which hasn't changed massively, just tried to keep pace with new tech and equipment, following new trends in popular classes.

CURRENT LOCATION: Swynlake. Resident in the Farmlands.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS (IF APPLICABLE): Married to Ella Ashbourne.

CHILDREN (IF APPLICABLE): Willa Ashbourne (step-daughter, 18), Theodore 'Teddy' Kouros (3), Sofia Katerina Kouros (6 months).

BIOGRAPHY:

Live changed slowly, and then all at once, for Hercules Kouros.

With each year that passed, the gym got a little stronger, he worked a few less hours, he saw his friends more, he built roots deep into the community. Slowly and surely, he grew. He started clearing his debts, actually making savings, putting himself first more often, training his staff to do more and making the business a happier and healthier place to work.

He even started to make a name for himself on the subject of Magick inclusion in the fitness and exercise world.

He was happier, day by day, bit by bit, more confident.

Another year, another Swynlake disaster at Prom.

But this time he found himself springing into action to rescue someone, without thinking about it, he saved Ella Ashbourne from getting trapped by falling rubble. Afterwards, he walked her home, and asked her to call him, if she wanted to chat. Dating a woman with a kid was a learning curve, but after spending more time around friends' kids it wasn't so scary. He wanted to try, wanted to try so badly he'd make sure he made it work, because he had a really good feeling about this.

He was right.

In the years that followed, he and Ella moved in together, got engaged, got a place out in the farmlands, he even spent some years on the town board trying to unite advocates for local businesses and Magick rights. But he stepped down after his second term, to focus on the thing that mattered more than anything: his family. Now Willa might be learning more about her birth right in the forest, but they have their hands full with Teddy and baby Sofia.

Still. He wouldn't change it for anything.

[thejhambs]

Why I consider JC the villain

Inspired by this post.

I feel like, yes, people keep trying to look for ways that MDZS could have gone differently, ways that WWX could have saved himself. And, the only way was for WWX to leave the Wens to die. The Wens would have died earlier and more cruelly if WWX had left them alone.

In fact, I feel like MDZS is interesting, because, for most characters who had the motivate to prevent WWX's death (WWX, JYL, LWJ, The Wens), there's literally no other option for them. WWX would have saved the Wens whether he cultivated the orthodox path or not, the Wens would have been jailed no matter what.

This wouldn't be a happy ending. WWX is not the type of person who would be happy in this situation. WWX was able to die without guilt. He had anger and resentment, yes, and he hated that the Wens died under his protection, but he at least had the comfort of knowing that he did all that he could have done. WWX's resentful spirit was said to be fairly docile, and that's the reason, it's because he doesn't have guilt. This wouldn't have been true for a WWX who didn't save the Wens.

Once he saves the Wens, and is seen as a heretic, he would have been attacked no matter what, and WWX is constantly put into unfair battles, that he doesn't initiate, and the damages of these situations are blamed on him, but there's no reason to believe that a golden core would have saved him in such a situation.

"He loses control", but that loss of control is always due to emotional disturbance. Emotional disturbance like that in a traditional cultivator could cause Qi Deviations with similar effects. That's what happened to Nie Mingjue, who's emotional state was made deliberately disturbed. So, not cultivating his ghost path wouldn't have saved him either.

LWJ couldn't have done anything, he just was not close enough to WWX for WWX to trust him to ask for help. Maybe he could have made WWX feel safer with him, but like, honestly, he was a tsundere teen, and I've said before that teens are allowed to be tsunderes. He couldn't have predicted what would happen just because he was mean to the annoying sexy boy in his class, lol.

JYL, she didn't know the situation that WWX was in, both she and JZX were kept from the worst of the Jins schemes, and they both died when they tried to do anything to help. Both JYL and JZX lack the power to have done anything.

Jiang Cheng though. That's where you can see an action that could have been made. In chapter 73, he sits before all the clan leaders, and is told about WWX's actions. He says that he owes the Wens a debt, and never clarifies the nature of the debt. Nie Mingjue says that Wen Qing never worked against Wen Ruohan, but this isn't true, and more importantly, JC knows it isn't true.

You can say that JC saying something would have been useless, but the fact of the matter is... he doesn't even try. He doesn't even try to tell people what happened, to be honest with them about why WWX did what he did. He could have tried to stand up for WWX, and that's something that could have changed the course of the story of WWX's first life, and made it so that it could be happier.

You can say that JC was powerless and that no one would support him, but the truth is, he wasn't really. The Jins had the most money, but the least amount of respect, because they joined the sunshot campaign late, and supported the Wens before that. The Lans and the Nies were in a similar war torn state as the Jiang, and they knew the circumstances of the Jin Sect's greed. Nie Mingjue is specifically noted as thinking that there was something shady about the situation he can't put his finger on.

JC was just the youngest, but to say that he was powerless just isn't true. He had the most feared cultivator on his side, and one of the things that JGS tells him to warn him of WWX's behaviour is that people will overlook him, the leader of the sect, and respect WWX more. There are no threats made to the YMJ sect, only to JC's pride.

Even if JC had genuinely perceived a threat to YMJ, telling the truth to at the conference and letting all the clan leaders decide the correct course of action could have helped. He did none of that, and that's the ONLY choice in the story that could have saved WWX.

The reason JC is the villain of the story is because of this. His choice was the one that led to WWX's downfall, at the end of the day. You can argue about his moral greyness or his nuances, or the way he tried to sacrifice his life for WWX, but the truth is, when WWX needed him, he didn't stand up for him. And, that's why there's no Yunmeng Shuanjie reconciliation, and why JC ends up unhappy at the end.

JC's one choice to sacrifice himself to the Wens at one moment means less than his choice to not support WWX in a political situation. And, that's his tragedy, too, the fact that he could have, the fact that he once loved WWX enough to sacrifice his life for him, but that his jealousy and insecurity won over his love for WWX. He doesn't choose his love when it matters, and so, love will never choose him back

[merakiui]

Hey, have you heard of the OG design for Xiao (red xiao)? Apparently his personality was much different than the Xiao we know now, originally a much 'happier and gentle adeptus'

What do you imagine a yandere!red!xiao to be like? How would he go about falling and eventually securing his darling in his grasp? Would he be less severe than normal xiao, or would he be just the same?

I like imagining red Xiao as a more outgoing, confident version of canon Xiao! He's not afraid to approach you outright, say what's on his mind, or mingle with others to certain extents. Underneath all of that charm and seemingly cheerful delight, however, there is a deep pain and loneliness that lingers. Like Xiao, I think red Xiao would also bury most of his struggles in order to continue being the happy, gentle Adeptus everyone knows him to be. It allows him to charm his darling into a false sense of security. Perhaps you'll come to view him as your savior if he's the only one to ever come to your aid whenever you're in dire straits. And those who tried... They were kindly steered in the opposite direction by a smiling red Xiao.

Red Xiao probably also suffers immensely under the weight of karmic debt, but he hides any indication of pain behind a convincing smile and a happy-go-lucky façade. He definitely considers you as a source of stress relief when he falls for you. Just being around you cleanses his senses, even if he knows he should keep his distance to avoid tainting you. But he just can't help it. He wants to be social. He wants to blend in. He wants you to like him. And humans typically act a certain way. If he acted more human-like, would you return his feelings? There's no way of knowing if he doesn't try.

He definitely shields you from every bad thing in the world and he won't let you see him fight or do anything dangerous. The unsavory sides of himself are hidden and buried, kept locked away from your prying eyes. He's gentle...until he isn't. Unlike Xiao, red Xiao wouldn't mind giving you some freedom as long as he knows you won't abuse his trust or do anything to escape or put yourself in danger. The minute you do, he'll slowly retract each privilege one by one and you'll have to work your way up to earning them again. He's kind and only wants what's best for you, but if you force his hand you'll have no one to blame but yourself. And he says it all with a soft smile, his hand cradling your cheek in an effort to console you. Use his karmic debt against him; it might do you good to tell him you feel crushed by his presence and he might be inclined to distance himself, if only for a few days. He doesn't want to taint you beyond repair or fatally injure you, after all. That will never be his intention!

His severity level truly depends on what kind of person you are and how you act as his captive. If you're compliant and accepting, he won't feel any need to chain you down or isolate you. If you fight him and try every escape method in the book, he'll have no choice but to get rough. Most of the time he tries his best to be gentle, but there are instances where gentle treatment won't get him anywhere and he must resort to being less-than-gentle. He always makes sure to apologize afterwards and, in some cases, in advance before it even happens. It really is what you make of it, so depending on how you act the situation can be comforting and gentle or frightening and upsetting. He's just lovesick, but unlike the painkillers that occasionally snuff the karmic pain there is no medicine to be taken to cure obsession.

[sevoir]

entigon

...

anyway, the elevator dings.

“no tour yet. i was saving it for you, actually. i was gonna ask if you wanted to go on the cable car with me.” yoojung says, and he moves in closer to her when she comes closer to him. what’s he doing with seryung? it’s like their own, little dance, orchestrated by cues only the other recognizes. gentle, water reaching shore type of symmetry. what’s he doing with seryung? he’s letting her leave the building first so he can walk behind her when they’re in the hotel’s garage and he’s opening the passenger door for her. 

“i thought it’d be better later at night, you know.” he looks at her once he’s shouldered into the driver’s seat. “less people, more privacy. i miss you, so.” he looks at the steering wheel, licks over his bottom lip lightly, contemplating. “i wanted to get a chance to talk to you. just us. without it,” he gestures again, “destroying our lives in arial font. i thought maybe we could get dinner and check it out?” he winks. “i need to spend some time with you, at least.”

he's generous enough that she gets what she needs, and selfish enough that she doesn't feel bad taking up his time. he's selfish enough that she gets what she needs, and generous enough that she doesn't feel bad taking up his time. all her thoughts about yoojung turn round and round and round in her mind, taking up every square inch of real estate and leaving no room for rational thought. how she wants yoojung to take her right there in that elevator, every single thought makes perfect sense every which way. and the intrusive thought to jam her finger into the emergency button, so they can get so wonderfully stuck together and do everything they could do, is starting to win when come that fateful ding.

seryung steps out, suddenly breathless, and realizes her lungs have sat in her ribcage completely useless for the past three floors. then, she realizes she hasn't said anything. she doesn't want yoojung to think she's rude—she really doesn't think she can afford to give him one more reason to think another bad thing about her, she already skipped defending him in the eyes of the law—so she links her arms with his until the time comes to part at the passenger door.

she doesn't expect his declarations from the driver's seat, but she receives them with a manner unique to someone who has been thrown flowers all her life without ever having to ask for them. happy without going over the moon, grateful without knowing debt, blushing but not flustered. it's clear that she's easily pleased but it will take more than words to truly satisfy her.

seryung catches herself staring at yoojung's lips. there, in the dark of the parking lot, all alone in his car, time feels slowed. she lifts her gaze to meet his, lashes fluttering. "you miss me?" she repeats the words she hears the loudest. needy the way she says it, easy the way she turns it into teasing when she fastens her wind-chime laugh at the end of the question. with her, guys think everything is better at night—they usually only mean one thing. he might be no different, but she pushes that sad thought to the furthest reaches of her mind. yoojung is one of the best people she knows. he likes her. he wants to spend time with her. he misses her. he wouldn't lie to her. a faded thought breezes through her mind, the faintest whisper of wind—why would he lie?

"i missed you, too," she returns with easy sincerity, reaching across the console to hold his hand. seryung threads her fingers through his, satisfied at how well they fit. "cable cars get me motion sick," she lies, eyebrows scrunched and glossed lips pouting in apology. she's quick to sweeten the deal, "we can come back here and get drinks at the bar, or room service?" seryung looks at yoojung, blatantly offering him the one thing memory serves every guy wants. some part of her hopes she's wrong. she'd be happy if he took it too far. she'd be happier if he didn't. "we can take it up to the rooftop," she supplies, "look at stars? you can see everything from up there. and no one goes when it's late because it's too dark to go alone." she gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "yoojung," she says softly—somehow sweeter than the sins she has committed with him, his name is saccharine in her mouth, "i want to spend more time with you."