caphevn-blog

[fifizero]

okay so we took a HUGE break from seeing Asa, like she joined chainsaw man church and we just straight up stopped seeing her. and now we do, and she's totally confident in her abilities, she's telling yoru what to do and the plan, all that stuff. i know it's cause we were watching denji, and his story, but i feel like we missed a chunk of her character development and i feel a bit cheated bc of it!!! but i am excited to see what happens next with her and yoshida. hope she kicks his ass

[thatone16216]

OP Boyfriend Headcannons

Kid, Law, Ace, Luffy, Zoro

Eustass Kid

He's a redhead, so he's kinda freaky 😂

Totally cuddles. He hates asking for them but you tease him so much that he has to. When he asks at first he tries to act like it's what you wanted

"You want to cuddle, right?" "Not really... Do you?" "No! Of course not!" ... "Kid?" "Can we cuddle?"

Definitely calls you "mouse"

Poor Killer sleeps in the room next to you, and let's just say, that ship is NOT soundproof 😭

This man is TOUCHY. Like he always has to be touching you. Arm around your waist or shoulders, holding you, hand on your shoulder, ass, or waist, or you sitting in his lap. Hell even just brushing shoulders with you. As long as you're touching, he's fine. 

Secretly loves when you play with his hair. He finds it relaxing. 

Jealous as fuck. 

Loves giving you hickeys. He likes people to know you're his.

Secretly loves when you wear his makeup. He thinks its hot 

"Is that my lipstick, [Name]? Hmm, looks good on you" 

Trafalgar Law

He pretends not to care about us, but we all know he does. 

He doesn't LOVE cuddles, but he will accept them if you want to. 

The only exception is when he has nightmares.

We all know how much they keep him up at night, so on the rare occasions he does sleep, if they wake him he will want a cuddle. 

He doesn't get jealous easily, but during a meeting with the Kid Pirates, Eustass Kid himself took a liking to you, and boy was Law PISSED. 

Took all his willpower not to kill him where he stood. 

He's not a touchy person, but sometimes if you're sitting together he will rest his hand on your thigh, just to reassure himself you're still there. 

When he's very stressed, if you're cuddling he will ask you to play with his hair to calm him down.

You're the most important person alive to him, so he will do everything in his power to keep you safe.

Portgas D. Ace

Bro LOVES cuddles.

And you love cuddling him. Especially when you're on a winter island where it's cold. Bro is literally one of the hottest human beings ever to exist. Because... Temperature. Yeah. That's it.

He loves kisses. You could be sitting there, minding your own business, and he will just come over and start peppering your face on little kisses.

He will TRY, and I repeat, TRY to cook you something. Like he could be making dinner for you because he knows you're sick of having the same thing the ships chef cooks every day and decided that the stove wasn't working fast enough for him, so he tried using his devil fruit powers.

He almost burned the ship down.

He doesn't get JEALOUS, per say, but he does get a little insecure sometimes. Mostly when guys just don't get the hint that you're together.

When other guys flirt with you, he glares at them with an arm around your waist or shoulders, and kisses you until they leave.

Loves touching you. Not JUST sexually, but he loves wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder/head, and sitting you in his lap.

Monkey D. Luffy

KING OF CUDDLES OH MY GOD

It does not matter where you are, what time it is, nor what you are doing, if he wants cuddles, you better believe he's getting his damn cuddles.

Steals your food, but if you tell him to stop, he actually will. (for the five minutes his memory lasts)

Pretty innocent, so when you start the... yk... you'll have to teach him.

When it comes to kissing, kissing your lips was kind of awkward in the beginning, because he didn't entirely know what to do, but he learned pretty quickly. 

Cheek kisses ALL day tho

Doesn't get jealous, mainly because he doesn't really know what it is, but one time Sanji was being just a bit TOO Sanji with you, and Luffy taught him a lesson pretty damn fast.

Loves wrapping his arms around you.

Roronoa Zoro

Secretly likes cuddles. He loves to just lay with you cuddling until you both fall asleep 

On the rare occasion you fall asleep before he does (or he wakes up before you) he will play with your hair and study your features (not in a creepy way, admiring your beauty)

If you're insecure, he's actually an amazing boyfriend for that. He's blunt and honest, so if you say something negative about yourself, he'd tell you how wrong you are. 

"Don't give me any of that "I'm not beautiful" bullshit. You're perfect. Now sleep"

He doesn't get JEALOUS, but he gets pissed off when certain blond cooks keep trying to get comfortable with you

Doesn't love giving kisses, but but if you walk over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek or a little peck on the lips he will get flustered 

Always tried to get you to work out with him. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure his work out routine would kill any normal human beings 

Somehow doesn't get lost when hes trying to find you. He always knows where you are 

[charliehoennam]

sweet stranger

A/N: request made here by @annekelovesreading

Summary: the war veteran Alfie seeks comfort in a stranger in hopes of returning to his old self

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, reader is a sex worker.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

part two

"Thanks for the ride, James. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

You climb out of the Bentley and adjust your coat, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress before strutting towards the hotel, your heels clacking against the pavement and then marble floors of the lobby.

You sense the judgemental eyes already on you, but you've learned how to ignore them. If their judgement paid your rent and bills, then you'd finally be able to retire. But until then, you did what needed to be done.

The service you provide is simple and clear. You meet the client, humor them a bit and fuck them before leaving at first light.

You are lucky enough to work for a powerful and strict madame that actually recognizes the importance of her employees' well-being and ran a high-end business.

Her rules were clear. No marking, no hitting and contraceptive must be used.

Just because her empire dominates the professional area of sexual pleasure does not mean she runs a funhouse. Many would mistake Madame's care for benevolence when it is really just a matter of logistics.

Black eyes don't allow her employees to escort her wealthy clients to prestigious social events. And the only reason her business dominates is because she assures clean employees to her clients. An employee with the clap gets the boot and replacing them is expensive.

After giving your name at the front desk, you take the keys you're headed with a smile and head to room 403.

The name is not unfamiliar. You've heard plenty of Alfie Solomons and part of you is afraid of what he'll be like, judging by what you've heard.

The ring of the lift snaps you our of your thoughts. You flash a smile at the liftman and thank him before stepping into the hallway.

Alfie Solomons is not your first client - nor will he be your last - but knowing he is the first gangster you're about to meet and sleep with has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You mentally repeat Madame's rules to yourself to try and ease your nerves. But then again, do rules hold any standing to criminals?

Taking a couple of deep breaths, you manage to relax as best as you possibly can in the situation and simply remind yourself that he is no different than any other client.

You lift your hand to knock on the door. There's movement behind it and the metal of the lock on the side rattles as it slides to open.

Your lips pull into a welcoming smile at the broad, tall man that opens the door. Taking in his features, you quickly notice his wet hair.

The smell of soap emanates from his large frame along with a faint scent of rum and an irresistible natural musk that almost lured you to touch him.

It's obvious that he took the time to wash himself and, to be honest, you're quite thankful for that.

"You must be Mr. Solomons."

"Punctual little thing, ain't you? Come on in, love. Don't mind me."

His tone is rather calm even with his heavy Cockney drawl. His fingers, however, seem to confess his nerves with the way they flick back and forth.

"Punctuality is a necessary characteristic in my line of work, Mr. Solomons."

"Right, right" he nods as you walk past him. He still can't seem to look you in the eye, but you've yet to discover why.

Most of the nervous clients that you've had were first-timers, young men eager to lose their virginity especially before being sent to war.

Alfie is very attractive and pleasing to the eye with his large strong build, but he is no young boy. You find it hard to believe that this would be his first time being as wealthy, cunning and wealthy as you heard he is.

"May I take your coat, love?"

"Yes, please."

You turn to back to him to allow his assistance, taking in the sight of the hotel room. You've been in this hotel before, but despite that, the lavish decoration of the suite never fails to impress.

Alfie can't help but feel intimidated by the simple scent of your perfume as he stands behind you, taking your coat to hang it for you. He doesn't want you to pick up on the fact that he feels so out of his element.

Before the war, Alfie had his fair share of women. He used to be so different. So young and naive and confident - which is the only characteristic he can successfully feign more than well in the wicked world he treads in.

But now, he's in foreign territory. So much has changed for him.

Getting his affairs back in strict order took so much work, sweat and blood from him that he hadn't prioritized his romantic desires.

If age hadn't been enough, the night tremors made it impossible to sleep beside anyone. Red blotches were beginning to spread throughout his body due to the psoriasis. His sciatica only worsened with age and the harsh conditioning the war had forced onto it. And now the fucking cancer, which only added to his list of secret insecurities.

The confident young man he used to be was gone. Alfie was still human, however. And like many other humans, he yearned for companionship. The problem is that a man like Alfie can't confide in just anyone. He can't expose it without the risk of his enemies seeing it as an opportunity to use it against him.

Good thing about Madame's business is that her turf is neutral and independent ground. For now, at least.

Alfie knows he has to overcome this hurdle if he plans to get married one day and start a family and he just thought this would be the best way.

He's got a beautiful woman in his hotel room; he knows what you came here to do. He's just not sure what to do at this point other than to confess it to you. He doesn't want to say it, but deep down inside, he feels a bit humilited.

It shows in the way he avoids your eyes, the way his head hangs low.

"There's no shame in that, Mr. Solomons. I'm happy to help however I can. We don't have to rush into anything just yet... Do you drink?"

"Not often. Clouds the mind."

"Precisely. What do you drink?" You smile warmly at him.

"Wine is my favorite."

"Let's get you a glass then, Mr. Solomons."

Just as you expect, the wine is successful in loosening him up a bit.

You're careful enough to avoid asking any questions that concerns his business, so you focus on asking him to share things he enjoys like music and books.

After a couple hours and a couple glasses, he's warming up to you as you listen attentively to his childhood stories. Despite the wine, he is cautious enough to leave out certain details that are too personal for you to know that could bring him or his family harm if they ended up in the wrong hands.

You can't take it personal, and can only imagine that trust does not come easy in his line of work which only confirms that pressing him on such information wouldn't be very smart.

No matter how easy the conversation is flowing or how comfortable he may seem to be, you can't forget who he is beyond these four walls.

As he finishes his glass of wine, he sets it down on the table in front of you while raising a hand to his shoulder to rub at the aching knot in his muscle.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you, Mr. Solomons?"

"With what, love? Oh, this?" He asks glancing at his shoulder. "Oh, no. You don't have to do that."

It almost like he's forgotten the reason you're both there.

"Really, I don't mind at all. It's the least I can do for you, sir."

With a sweet smile, you stand as you finish off your glass and set it beside his on the table before walking over to his chair to offer him your hand.

"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."

His blue eyes narrow their gaze at you for a moment as if he's trying to read you. You can see him physically tense before accepting your hand.

The talkative Alfie is suddenly replaced by a quiet and insecure version as he watches you, from where he's sat in the bed, take your heels off - your almost bare feet still covered in your black stockings - before climbing onto the bed.

You stand on your knees , which are spread to accommodate him between them, and sit back on your feet after taking the small bottle of rose scented intimate oil from your purse.

"It's like riding a bike. Your body knows that to do, but it needs time, patience and practice, so you have to go slow."

Your breathe on his neck has chills racing up his arms as you reach to his front to unbutton his vest and slide it off his wide shoulders. You do the same with his shirt, but pause before sliding it off as his hand instinctively hold your wrist.

"May I? I'd love to see you, but if you don't want to, I can just slide it down a bit."

He ponders for a moment but replies with a silent nod as he releases your wrist.

You slide it off and much to your impression, he seems even wider and stronger than you'd imagined.

A couple scars and red blotches already here and there on his skin, but they don't stop you from marveling at the rippling muscles.

"My goodness... Mr. Solomons, with all the utmost respect, but you are quite the work of art."

He can't help but smile at your compliment, although he thinks that you're just saying what you think he wants to hear, so it's hard for him to believe.

You let your palms gently wander over his large back and arms, with a gentle squeeze to his biceps.

"Carved from stone, are you?" You joke, bringing a chuckle out of him.

"No, love. Just flesh."

"Fortunately."

Using the pipette, you pinch a couple drops of the oil onto his shoulders before closing the vial to set it aside and letting your fingers get to work.

Alfie groans softly and his eyes instantly close as you start massaging to undo the knot that's been bothering him for weeks now.

"How is that, sir? More pressure?"

"No, love. That's just fine...just perfect," he sighs relieved. "Fucking 'ell, love. That feels fucking great. You've no idea how long that's been bothering me."

"I can imagine. You've got knots like this all round. It can't be easy to live with them.

Slowly but surely, Alfie starts to relax. It's impossible not to. It's been a while since he's been touched by anyone, much less massaged by them.

The tension is his body begins to ease as your fingers work away not only the knots caused by the stress of his days, but the anxiety of being intimate again. It doesn't seem so foreign suddenly.

Building up the courage to place a gentle kiss onto the back of his shoulder, you lower your head and press your lips to his skin.

"Is this alright?" You whisper.

"More than alright."

"I can go lower if you'd like me to."

He nods, so you glides your fingers down the middle of his back, pressing against ether side of his spine.

"Fuck, love... That is heavenly."

You smile at the praises and take it a sign to continue the gentle teasing, moving your kisses up to the crook of his neck.

You take your time to ease him into his arousal. The lower you go down his back, the more convinced he becomes.

"Would you like me to touch you?"

You ask nuzzling your nose against his ear and he nods.

You reach a hand to his front and rub your palm against his clothed crotch. Although you can't see his cock, you can tell the man's been blessed with girth as it twitches against your touch.

Alfie gives in to the instant pleasure and moans, letting all his worries melt away. He can't remember the last time he's been able to feel so at ease.

As you whisper encouraging praises into his ear from behind, Alfie allows you to unbutton his trousers and slither your hand under the fabric to stroke his cock with a firm grip.

The room seems to spin around him. His head feels heavy from the pleasure as it leans back against your shoulder.

"That's it, sir. Just let me take care of you" you smirk kissing a sensitive spot on his neck that he didn't even know could make him tremble.

He isn't sure how much longer he can last. It's been a while after all.

"L-love, you feel so good."

You chuckle, letting his thick cock spring free from its confines.

"You're fucking beautiful, sir."

"Oh, you think so, yeah?"

You nod as your hand strokes his dick, coating it with his own pre-cum and the essential oil you'd brought.

"Lemme get more comfortable, love. Wanna see more of ya," alfie says holding your wrist to stop your movement for a moment.

He stands to kick off his trousers, standing in all his naked glory before sitting further up the bed with his back against the upholstered headboard.

"C'mere, love. Lemme see you hm?"

His invitation is made with calloused hands guiding you to straddle his lap. You make quick work of unbuttoning the dress and sliding the straps off your shoulders to reveal your chest with a sultry smile.

"May I?"

You can't help but smile at how he's a gentleman in such a moment. Most clients wouldn't even bother to remember asking, but Alfie makes you forget that he is just another client.

His large hands reach to knead your breasts, giving them such attentive appreciation as he licks his pink lips, eager to get them on you.

"It's alright, love" you whisper, seeming to read his mind.

The way his beard scratches your sensitive skin has your back arching into his warmth. His gentle and considerate admiration lures you into a trance; into a heated dream where you are able to finally feel like a woman loved.

You welcome him with fingers lacing into his messy brown locks still damp from his bath earlier. Your hips move mindless as you grind your clothed sex against his exposed cock, reminding him how good he feels and how you want him to feel the same.

Shifting onto your knees between his legs on the bed, you pepper tender kisses down his chest and stomach as your breasts dangle down and rub against his cock.

The anticipation has Alfie balling his fists into the white sheets.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, love. Fucking 'ell," he mumbles as your hands run up and down his thigh, giving gentle squeezes to tease him on.

"It's gonna be a long night."

[verysium]

would a beautiful young lady like you be so generous and besprinkle me with some sae itoshi thoughts

beautiful young lady? 🤭 anon you are so sweet. and for that, i present to you a writing idea that has lingered in the back of my mind for a while now. introducing......✨rōnin sae✨

he was originally the first-born son of a wealthy samurai clan but was ostracized due to his left-handed fighting style and refusal to conform to bushido. the night of his thirteenth birthday, he wrongfully murdered a man, and for that he was exiled by his family and later banished from the estate. forced to leave everything behind, he traveled on foot to kyoto to enter into the service of the daimyō at yodo domain, but no master or dojo would accept him.

after three years, he became a wanderer, a ghost identified by nothing except the incorporeal lingering of fear he left behind. no one has ever seen his face, nor do they know his name. a pair sharp teal eyes is the last thing the unfortunate souls see before they meet their end at the tip of his blade. he slices so clean it leaves no blood, only a soft body caught between the furrows of earth, lodged into eternal sleep beneath the snow.

working part-time as a serving girl between a soba shop and a brothel, you encounter him on one of the longest days of winter, the sole customer who dares to enter between the hours of midnight and dawn. as you set down his bowl, your eyes catch onto the silk tie fastened to the hilt of his katana, a rich hue of burgundy red. he must be a member of the upper nobility, you think. you've only ever seen the color on the obi of the wealthy patrons and the entrancing eyes of the madam's geisha. you politely ask him where he bought such beautifully dyed fabric, setting down his chopsticks with a sweet smile. he stares up at you from beneath his jingasa hat, so low on his face that you cannot see his eyes. a beat of silence passes, then two.

it is blood.

his tone is quiet, deep enough to send shivers down your spine. he waits to see the horrified look on your face, the crumpling of your delicate features so that he knows when to leave, where he is not welcome. but it never comes. instead you beam, blabbering on about how you figured he was a ronin with the number of bodies he left behind, and the number of days he says he's been here. he remains silent, though you see a flicker of something beneath the brim of his hat, the color so bright you do not know if it is blue or green.

you realize who he is. and you don't care.

that is enough to get sae interested in you, at least interested enough not to kill you. most people never hear the rumors let alone fathom his existence, yet you let him stay here with you, as if you expected his presence all along. at first, he coughs and refuses, standing up swiftly to find the exit. but when he lifts the noren and is hit with a face full of harsh snow, he begins to reconsider your offer, to wait until the storm passes.

you boil tea on the kettle as you lay out a spare futon on the tatami, lighting a candle in the darkness. in the corner, he sees a small misshapen bundle beneath the blankets, and he immediately pulls his hand back when two glossy eyes peer back up at him. the bundle he realizes is your mother, and the blankets he learns is a deathbed. you have no other kin left, no money to feed yourself, nowhere to hide the rotting body. only in time will he fully understand the ghosts of your past. you are the daughter of a prostitute; he is a son in exile. it shouldn't even be considered a match, but it strangely feels like one.

the storm passes, but sae doesn't leave. instead, you and he settle into the mundane expanse of cold routine, him searching for hire by day and you working by night. except one night, you do not return home by the tenth hour bell. it isn't until the sun carves a sliver into the morning sky that he sees your silhouette in the doorway, kimono slightly rumpled. you pull the ornaments out of your hair, makeup smeared as you run frantically into your room, slumping before your wash basin.

it doesn't take much from him to pry out an entire story from your lips. apparently your friend himeko has disappeared, the last you've seen of her was her entanglement with a young nobleman who promised to buy her out of the brothel. you sigh, lamenting that you are not attractive enough to be wed, much less make your way up the ranks of the maiko. sae wants to say you are foolish for believing a man's lies, but he holds his tongue when he sees your expression, the delicate features of your face crumbling, the same way he expected them to the night you met. it is the first time he sees you cry, and he cannot even hold you. he does not know why this hurts so much.

it's too late by the time he realizes.

you've buried yourself into him. stomped your muddy footprints all over his heart. left evidence in the snow. successfully haunted him in every single iteration. now he tells you that he would wed you in a single heartbeat. any sign of discomfort and he would not hesitate to kill. his only regret is that he wished he could give you more than this life of an untethered ghost, more substance than this lack of being. but your lips quell the storm that resides in his heart, his rotting fingers trembling as they find a home on the side of your cheeks. if he were to die, he would be content to be buried inside you, his stone cold body resting within the peace of your existence.

it is the hour between midnight and dawn when sae realizes the snow outside has stopped and that his life has only just begun.

[toms-cherry-trees]

Don't Hold My Hand (I'll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Prologue

Summary: How can one recover from having their life swept out from under theit feet? When a promising future becomes lost, shattered by a past that should have remained long forgotten? Is care and love enough to undo the damage, or will it just be a sweet balm to give a brief respite of the pain before the unavoidable end?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Vague description of war injuries

Author's note: This fic is loosely based on Me Before You, keyword loosely. I don't have many information on what voluntary nurses did after the war nor how did they treat those with long term injuries, but I am working as best as I can with what I know so do not expect this to be entirely historically accurate. There also may be some ableism akin to the period but it will be kept minimal

This is also my first time writing Tommy with an OC! Say hello to Charlotte Florence Tindall everyone! She is an OC I've had for 3 years based in Lady Sybill Crawley from Downton Abbey

Next part 》

The gates to Arrow House stood tall and imponent amidst a thick grove in the depths of Warwickshire. The estate’s name had been forged in sturdy steel and perched high above the iron and brick archways, kept in pristine condition despite the long exposure to the elements, with the family’s proud surname hanging just below in equal condition. Charlotte could easily imagine an unfortunate servant sent there on the daily with a ladder and some polisher, his only duty being to keep the family’s name spotless, literally.

The journey towards the manor was brief and silent, the bumps in the road barely noticeable in the luxurious car that had picked her up from the train station, with leather seats and a smoothly purring engine. She knew little about the brands and commodities money could afford, but the vehicle, driven by a smartly dressed man in a crisp suit, surely cost more than all the money she had ever owned or would ever own in her life as a former VAD nurse.

The Great War had taken many opportunities, but in its wake, it had unexpectedly given some. Hordes of girls and women turned to their nearest recruitment offices or hospitals to receive express courses in nursing and home care, to serve their country side by side with the men, restoring to health those who had been wounded in combat and caring for those who had given it all until they had no more left. Field hospitals, Red Cross stations, local hospitals, and convalescence homes; all packed to the gunnels with soldiers who had been wounded, scarred, maimed, and traumatised beyond repair.

But the war had come to an end. The volunteers, the ones who had risen to the task, scattered and went back to their lives. And so did Charlotte. Only to realise the long battle had just begun. The men would not recover only because the conflict had concluded. Many remained who would need lifetime care and attention that not many families were trained or willing to provide. The nurses returned, offering their skills in little advertisements printed in newspapers or glued to shop windows.

She had it easy, in a way. Early in 1919, a man she cared for harnessed her in to be his private nurse, but that lasted until he came forward with less honourable propositions. Then came an elderly colonel, whom she watched over up until his last breath. And most recently, a strapping young sergeant, whose fiance, who didn’t take kindly to having a young woman dress and wash him, nearly chased Charlotte off.

She quickly grew disenchanted with the job, having found mostly trouble and no small amount of tears in it. Perhaps she was not made for this as she originally thought. Maybe she would do better as a cashier or cook; she could seek a post as a secretary or a board girl in the telephone company. She had learned enough to defend herself as a seamstress. Anything to keep her clothed and fed while sparing her the suffering.

But one day, a letter arrived at her door. A letter sent by the treasurer of Shelby Company Limited. The infamous Polly Gray. A shiver ran down her spine when she read the name in elegant calligraphy over expensive paper, and a part of her feared the envelope would burst in her hands like a hand grenade.

Who in Birmingham didn’t know about the Shelbys? In the slums and the rookeries, people didn’t pray to God; they prayed to the Peaky Blinders. They owned the factories, the distilleries, the pubs, and the institutions. They owned the police. They owned the very streets the people walked every day, their houses, their money, and their lives if they so wished.

And now, it seemed they wished to own Charlotte.

Mrs. Gray convened her for an interview at their estate since they requested her services as a nurse to care for a war veteran. The letter provided little more information other that they offered generous pay, accommodations, and a day off of her choosing. A preset date and time had been included, next to a train ticket to get her to the station closest to them.

Charlotte could not tell exactly what drove her to actually assist. Perhaps she wished to know how and why they found her. Maybe the lure of a salary twice the average had lured her in. Or the morbid curiosity of meeting this soldier; as far as she knew, the Shelby brothers didn’t need anything from anyone.

When she arrived at the manor, a stern-faced woman took her coat and bag. She barely had time to admire her surroundings before the maid led her towards a drawing room. Dark wood in panels and furniture, crimson wallpaper, two walls entirely lined with bookshelves filled with books of all sorts, some in pristine condition and others worn and falling apart.

Amidst all, in a settee of black velvet, sat Polly Gray. Pearls hugged her neck, hung from her ears, and adorned the front of her silver frock. Bracelets and rings decorated her fingers. Masses of papers covered the tea table before her, which she methodically separated into neat piles. By her side were a glass of whiskey and a cigarette with crimson stains, the ashtray filled to the brim. The face powder could not conceal entirely the dark circles underneath her eyes, and some fine streaks of grey contrasted against her golden chocolate curls. A woman not quite old in age but worn out tremendously by troubles and tribulations Charlotte didn’t know.

She cleared her throat, since she appeared so immersed in her paperwork she didn’t notice her.

“Mrs Gray”

“Sit” The harshness of the command contrasted with the undeniable softness of her voice, edged with barely contained nervousness, as if she stood ready to collapse. Hurriedly, she collected the scattered papers and dropped them in a pile at her side, just in time for the stern maid to place before them a tea tray, all polished silverware and hand-painted porcelain. Mrs. Gray and her spent several minutes in fraught silence, stirring a cup of fragrant tea with two sugars, while Mrs. Gray added the last of her whiskey glass into her cup. Charlotte waited for her to speak first, but the woman seemed to be in no rush, which only added to her own anxiousness.

“Mrs. Gray. You called me here. You sent me a train ticket and a driver to pick me up. Why?”

She stirred her beverage methodically, making five perfect clockwise rounds with the spoon and gently tapping it on the rim twice. Staring into the steaming liquid while she pondered her words.

“You are a nurse, aren’t you? You have field experience, and have also have cared for disabled soldiers." Not an interrogation, merely a statement. She didn’t question her about how she knew that. If she so desired, she could track down her school teacher and ask her how well she did in maths when she was nine. But that still didn’t provide her with answers.

“I am. I have worked with several patients, and if you wish, I can provide referen-”

She cut Charlotte off with a wave of her hand. “I already have your references. I spoke with your previous employers myself.”

A cold shiver spread down her legs. What could she possibly require from her that she take such an effort to map out her past? If she had that information, it meant they had checked her background and that of her family and close friends. And she assumed she had passed whatever unspoken test they carried on her; otherwise, they wouldn’t have brought her straight into their den.

But again, why?

Mrs. Gray put down the teacup and finally looked at the other woman’s face for the first time since her arrival. Her eyes were large, deep in colour, and full of wisdom and caution.

“Do you have any experience with men with reduced mobility? That is, men who are wheelchair-bound?”

That treaded closer to her area of expertise. For a brief moment, she feared she would be taken to a dimly lit basement where she’d be asked to save the life of a grievously wounded man with a gun pressed to her temple. Or maybe she just read far too many crime novels.

“I do. I worked with many men who had lost their ability to walk, either by spinal injury or loss of  limb."Before the following pause prolonged for too long, Charlotte pressed the matter further. “Is that why you called me? You have a veteran who can’t  walk."She spoke the words carefully, since she had learned through trial and error that not all people reacted well when she spoke too harshly about the state of the patient, so she tiptoed around the subject with carefully chosen words.

Suddenly she stood, setting the cup aside with such carelessness that the tea splattered everywhere, staining the lace covering the side table.

“Come with me." She headed towards the hallway, not even looking to see if Charlotte followed. She barely had time to steal one more sip before rushing behind her, straining her legs to keep up with her pace. She led her through a back door and out of the house, towards a stone and gravel backyard, smelling of horses and petrol. Other than a few hounds and a lone gardener trimming some bushes, no one else was around. No one listening but Lottie.

“My three nephews enlisted around the same time in 1914. And I will forever be grateful that the three of them made it home alive." She walked with her hands behind her back like a man. With that ramrod straight posture and her puffed chest, she could put a general to shame. It certainly worked to intimidate her, and she walked a step behind her, feeling unworthy of keeping up her pace.

“John and Arthur came back okay. Or as okay as men could after the things they saw and did” John and Arthur. Both names rang a bell, but she hadn’t seen them personally. They acted as henchmen more than businessmen, terrorising the factories and the foremen in their factories. Legend has it that a foreman in a Sparkbrook steelworks bought a house with bribes for tossing bodies in the furnace.

“But Tommy” She continued, bringing her attention back to the present. “He was a tunneller. There was a collapse near the end of everything. I don’t know the entire story, but the tunnel caved in on them. Out of fifteen boys, only five were dug  out."She fell silent for a moment and made the sign of the cross. Pain wrung Charlotte’s heart, but she didn’t allow it to settle. She had quickly learned to push pain into the back of her mind during the war. If she allowed herself to feel it, she’d collapse like wet clay.

“They brought him back on a stretcher. I never thought a person could be more blue than white and have more broken bones than whole ones. He spent the rest of the war in a hospital room and remained there for a good part of the next year. Every doctor expected him to just die in his sleep, but he refused to give up. He made a full recovery and came home as if nothing happened.”

The tone of her words and Lottie’s very presence there indicated that not all had gone well.

“He took over his duties in the business and married a girl he fancied. They even had a son. No indicator that something could be wrong". Her pace had slowed, allowing her to catch up, now walking by her side, not wanting to miss a word. She had left the backyard behind and now moved into bare grass; from the entrance, she hadn’t quite grasped how far the estate stretched. It could easily and comfortably house two manors equal in size with their own stables and gardens.

“He suddenly started complaining of pain in his legs. Stiffness, soreness, especially in the mornings” She recognised the symptoms immediately but chose to remain silent while she spoke. “Soon he had trouble walking; sometimes his knees gave out and he just fell. He resisted the cane as much as he could, but in time he could not remain upright without it for  long.

“We sought a doctor in London. He said a disc in his back had cracked in the accident. The fracture had been stable, but as time passed, it worsened and began to collapse and compress his  spine."She waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t understand any of the technical words, but the doctor said the injury would progress. The spine would be compressed more and more until he lost all use of his  legs.

Even though Charlotte didn’t see her expression, she noticed in her words the sorrow she felt for her nephew. And she didn’t blame her. To have him delivered home in pieces, seeing him go through a miraculous recovery only for this to happen. His life robbed from him, one sliver at a time, seeing his own body fail him day by day.

Mrs. Gray exhaled slowly, as if regaining her composure. “Ever since he got the diagnosis, he changed. He became irritable and wrathful. He refused to be seen with the cane; whenever he met people in the office, he leant into something or sat down. Then he refused to be seen altogether and handled business locked in his office." She pulled out a cigar case from her dress pocket and offered her one, which Lottie kindly refused.

“When he no longer could manage stairs easily, he started working from home. He seldom saw people; only his brothers and I could visit him” The smoke left her mouth with each word, since she consumed the cigarette so desperately she barely had time to breathe out. She thought that she didn’t need all that information to do her job, but she didn’t interrupt her. She sounded like she needed someone to listen to her at least once.

She finished the first cigarette and quickly lit a second with the leftover stub. Her crimson coated lips parted, as if she wanted to say something else but chose not to at the last second. Instead her features contorted in a snarl briefly, lips pursed like she tasted something bitter, and then shook her head and regained her composure.

“He bought this manor to be away from everyone. He wanted to live alone, with only the staff to help him, but I couldn’t leave him alone in that state, even if he refused to be helped. He may be an arse, but he is still my nephew” Lottie snickered at her last statement, disguising the inappropriate sound as a cough.

“I realise I could not handle it alone. There is just so much to be done, and many things he would never let me do for him” Another lit cigarette, consumed as frantically as the first two. “I tried to hire him a personal maid but she had the talent of a doornail”

“That’s why you sought me?” It made sense now. A common maid couldn’t handle his injuries and his needs like she could.

A bitter laugh fell from her lips “I sought a nurse, yes. And another one. And another one” She didn’t pay heed to her concerned expression “He never got along with any of them. Despised them, I dare say. Tommy cannot stomach being stared at or treated with pity” She made a mental note of that for her future work, that is, if she survived the day “Not all the pay raises and benefits in the world convinced them to stay long. I offered to pay the last one’s bank loans if she reconsidered her resignation, but that only held her in for another three weeks”

Charlotte’s resolution to take the job faltered by the minute. Why would she want to care for a man who seemed hellbent in making his caretakers miserable? Sure, his situation was nothing short of horrible, but did that really give him the right to spread his venom to those who tried to do good by him? And most importantly, did she really want to put herself through that? The pay was the best she had ever been offered, but would the money be worth it?

Suddenly Mrs. Gray gripped the younger woman’s hand, so tightly her fingers ached. She should have shaken her off, but the desperation in her eyes deterred her from it. She looked like a woman standing on the edge of the abyss, hanging only from her grasp.

“I personally collected your reference letters. All of your previous employers spoke of your patience and your affection. Of how your softness and cheerfulness helped them. I think you are what Tommy needs. I think you are the one who can help my nephew” Her grip tightened and an involuntary mewl of pain came from her throat. She released Lottie’s hand, and instead placed a pleading touch on her bicep.

“Please give it a try. At least for a month. I know he won’t live to be an old man. And whatever life he has left, whether it is 4 years or 4 decades, I want him to find peace. Happiness, even. I want him to have a reason to wake up in the morning” She could tell she wished to say more, but had cut off her words.

With all she laid out before her, Charlotte barely resisted the temptation to grab her purse and run for her life. But something in her words, in the story she narrated for her, it pulled at her heartstrings. She had a thing for lost causes and broken things. In the worst scenario, she would walk out depressed but with enough money to start anew.

She only had one request

“Can I meet your nephew before I make my decision?” 

Mrs Gray dropped her arm and pressed her lips into a thin line, eyebrows knit together in a scowl. She wanted to say no, that much she could tell. Maybe she thought she shouldn’t see Thomas until she had her signed up so she couldn’t back out. But Charlotte wouldn’t agree on anything until she spoke to him

“Of course”

Back into the house, she took her to the second floor. Lottie quickly noticed the house had been retrofitted in ways most couldn’t afford to offer Thomas a semblance of comfort. Large paintings hung in the stairway, most of them displaying a man with blue eyes and a dominant posture, always standing with his hands behind his back.

A set of double doors stood ajar towards the back of the floor. The room behind stretched almost all the length of the house, and Lottie noticed in the wall the dents where walls had been taken down to create such a large space. The furniture stood well spaced between each other to allow wide passages, enough to comfortably fit a wheelchair. Sunlight filled the alcove, coming from the many windows with the drapes drawn back. A set of glass doors led to a magnificent veranda that overlooked the estate.

Just outside, close to the balustrade, sat a black-haired man, his back turned to them. The wheelchair he sat upon was far more complex and luxurious than the ones she had in the ward. He wore a robe and slippers, as if he had just risen from bed despite being well into the afternoon.

Mrs. Gray walked out first, while she waited just under the lintel. She stood next to the man, one hand on his shoulder.

“Tommy, there is someone I want you to meet”

“No” His voice cut through the air, deep and curt. It sounded manly, and would have been pleasing to hear in other situation

“Tommy, please give her a chance, I promise-” He cut her pleading short with a smack of his fist on the wooden armrest.

“I said no! I don’t want her here. Put her in a cab and send her away” Mrs. Gray seemed to be at her wits’ end. She crouched next to him, like when one speaks to a child. She couldn’t make out the words she hissed at him through clenched teeth, but whatever she said, he didn’t like. With surprising skill he turned the wheelchair around and nearly ran Charlotte over, having barely managed to stop the chair with a heel on the floor.

The paintings did little justice to the blueness in his eyes. A vibrant blue not often seen, but filled with ice the moment they laid on her. The smart haircut had been replaced by an overgrown mane, jet black strands curling behind the ears and waving around the top. A five o clock shadow obscured the clenched jaw down to the neck. But even unkempt like that she felt the aura of haughtiness and pride bordering on arrogance emanating from him. He held her gaze for endless seconds, and not once she shied away from his cold eyes.

“Whatever it is you think you can do for me, save it for someone else. And now, get out of my home”

He wheeled past her, moving towards the main double doors. He couldn’t really go anywhere, but she figured he planned to hide somewhere until she left.

Lottie stood there, a bit dumbfounded, while Mrs. Gray returned to her side, despair plastered in her features, mixed with barely contained anger

“He is like that sometimes, but I promise you, some days are better. I will talk to him and get him to behave, and if you-”

“I can start tomorrow” She cut her off. Her jaw hung open, eyes widened as she struggled to wrap her mind around her words. Words that shocked Charlotte as much as Mrs. Gray, for she hadn’t actually allowed them out of her mouth. They just left in a blurt. But she meant them, even if she couldn’t quite tell herself why. It went beyond the money; she wanted this job. As if something invisible pushed her to stay there; as if there she’d truly find a purpose. It made no sense, but hunches and feelings rarely did

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Gray. I think I can help your nephew.”

[sweetangelanon]

Stir Crazy Au; Part: 1 - The Love Story For The Ages

Stir Crazy Au (Name pending idk thought it was fitting since oz is trapped here) But, with all great au's we get into the back stories of the characters within them. Why not start from the begin of it all? When Will met his wife, Amée.

Under a read more cuz this is long

Amée started off by being born in a small American town, the classic everyone knew everyone else type of town. I haven't decided which state but I want them to be deeply religious. Christians, obviously as it's the main religion in america that has grabbed us by the balls since the fuckass in the past wrote the declaration. Amée's character arc and story explores the feeling of being abandoned by your parents/community, ostracization, and looking for acceptance through romantic love. The story kicks off with Amée's boyfriend breaking up with her due to her lack of boundaries and inability to go anywhere without her with him. (As he should) This sends her into a spiral, one that only ends as she takes notice of a collage program that will send her off to England. (No clue where in England) She takes this opportunity without telling anyone, and the sad part about this is the fact none of her 'friends' nor even her parents question or even are aware she has left in the first place. (Friends is used loosely here it's more people she hangs out with not to be alone) In England, Amée's plans are simple. She plans on doing a bucket list, to do everything she never could in her small town before killing herself. (She doesn't have a solid plan on how to do this. Only must is that she wants to die in a secluded place where her body won't be found. She doesn't want her body to be sent back to her town, way to be fully disconnected to it.) One of the things you hear about often in England is about the pub crawls and THIS, this is where William comes in. Not as some suave shining knight in armor, or even a friend, no what Amée gains at the end of the night is a stalker. William basically falls in love with her at first sight, or well more like gets obsessed with her at first glance. I wanted his reasoning to be something painfully simple, realistic as well. Maybe she smiled at him in her drunken haze, or maybe she bumped into him an apologized. Whatever it was it was the one thing this desperate mf needed to cling like a koala. I'm hammering home that he's a pathetic stinky mess of a man like he's gross an doesn't know how to take care of himself. He hasn't learned how to mask properly either an is sooo awkward. Think of awkward smelly nerds that aren't aware of their bodies needs. Currently while William is in his own robotics course at his local collage he spends his free days following Amée around. From bars, to shops, to nature walks. Wherever she goes he follows. He starts taking pictures of her on day three of this, not wanting to loose even a second of her smiles. Granted he's left to wonder why they look so forlorn at times. There is meant to be this slow increase in his unhinged behavior the longer it goes on until he gets brave enough to approach her at a bar. (I was thinking their 'love' story all happens over a year at least, or two depending on how these things last. Yes I'm that bitch that has to look up details for small things like how long do over sea programs last etc) Will, of course, after having gone through her bookshelves and read the romance novels she has laying around decided to try to reenact a scene from her favorite one. He fails miserably. Both him and Amée get kicked out on the street. Manz starts tweeking because he HATES when things don't go to plan, only for Amée to start sobbing on his shoulder. She's tipsy enough to start babbling about her life, the break up, the loneliness all of it comes pouring out because at the end of the day she just wants someone... anyone to listen to her to see her as her instead of just another face in the background. Will listens to her, he takes in every detail so he can write it down for later (he has a whole document on her at his home) while he helps get her back to her apartment where she spends the night on the couch eating ice cream while he maps out the surrounding area an goes snooping around for easy access doors an such into her apartment.

Yeah he breaks into her apartment more times then not just to be around her scent. Probs finds a drink of her in the fridge an drinks after her an gets flustered like 'omg.... an indirect kiss' like god you gross freak I hate his ass!!!! So, of course this has been building up for a long time, over the months he and Amée get closer there's this connection that's undeniable. She finds his awkwardness super endearing, adores how he rambles on about his work shares every piece of information, doesn't treat her as an idiot when there is something she doesn't get instead he excitedly explains it all. He adores her creativity, her determination, and willingness to learn about things she doesn't understand. She's open minded. Yet, at some point this sweet connection starts to sour. The time for her to go back to america is getting closer thus is her date to commit. So, she starts to push him away, ignoring calls, the knocking at her door as she gets herself ready to the best of her ability. She starts to feel guilty that she even befriended him in the first place she knew her plans from the start. She knew where this would lead, but she couldn't help herself. His attention, his adoration, his gaze that made her feel warmth bubbling up in her chest. She didn't want to fall in love with him and ignored said feelings but he had been chipping away at her. As you can guess William has put the pieces together that she planed to kill herself. Gets PISSED, (she's HIS she belongs to him ALL HIS SHE CAN'T JUST LEAVE HIM) kidnaps her and places her in her room. It's her room to the extent of it's things that he had taken home from her apartment an pics of her are plastered all over the wall. Amée is ofc scared shitless not knowing whats going to happen to her, then sense of betrayal from William until he starts going off on his crazy little ramble rant about how they are meant to be, that she can't see it but their souls belong together, that she needs to open her eyes (ironic because he has her blind folded rn) She's kinda losing her mind during this, shaking and shivering an not as scared as she should be. The more he talks about wanting her, needing her the more she starts to soften up, but she tries one more weak attempt to scream at him. (cuz i mean yeah duh) kick, an thrash only for him to take her blind fold off sending her into this shocked still silence. Pupils blown wide, frantically looking around the dim room, shadows hiding some of the pics that are hung up on the wall but she knows they are her. They are all of her.

She breaks.

Her tears are silent, her chest heaving, Williams gravely voice nothing more then white noise to her. This isn't her being left in some horrified shock. No, she is confused, in a sense of disbelief because no one. No one has ever gone through the effort to even get to know her. So, the fact that William put so much effort, and time into her without her knowing? Breaks down that last wall she had up. Her tears turn from silent to loud bawling which William kinda expected and is petting her hair telling her no one can hear her only to be smacked in the face with the words "I love you too!" So now man looks like he's been stunned locked, this wasn't the reaction he expected out of her. Doesn't let her go so there's this bit of back and forth for a few days of him taking care of her needs and her just being utterly smitten by him. Which only baffles him more until he's like "okay what are you playing at." then they have a serious conversation her about how she's amazed that he cares enough about her to do all of this and him being like well why wouldn't I etc etc. The time for her to go back to america is getting closer and by the time he believes she's not going to run she's more then late getting back. They fuck in the picture room like wild animals an they both come out of it looking like they had a fight with a bear. (Freddy fazbea- no.)

They are spiritually married, (not officially paper work that happens later) Amée doesn't care where they go or where they live as long as she's with him. William well doesn't like England very much, bad memories and his parents may or may not have been physically/emotionally abusive I haven't decided. But he does like america, why? Because his best pen pal buddy Henry is there!!! Henry Emily from good old... "insert any of the states around Utah" because I don't see Henry wanting to live in the place he grew up for the rest of his life like that's wack shit man. William reads the most recent letter, writes to Henry about how he's gonna get married packs his shit up and leaves to go meet him an introduce his wife to him. Henry and William have some kinda fucky relationship going on that's very queer but not Wirly style. They do not get together this is not poly happily ever after lmao.

So, with this we close out on William showing up at Henry's doorstep with Amée nuzzling into his arm in the middle of the night banging on his besties door (a bestie he has NEVER met in person I might add) while he's like "Hey Henry this is my wife!"

Chaos ensues.

[thegothingtons]

At the same time in Ciudad Enamorada.

Jana Julie was on the way and Michaela is busy with painting. Therefore, Bishop took the opportunity to spend time with Anne.

Bishop: "Would you like to play a round of cards?"

Anne was surprised at first, but then she smiled and agreed. They went upstairs to the game table.

Bishop: "How's it going at school?"

Anne shrugged her shoulders awkwardly. "Well, that's how it goes."

Bishop laughed sheepishly. "High school is complicated. I remember. I'm not the high-flyer. Unlike Alden and Clementine."

Anne: "How did Aunt Bridgette fare?"

Her father's gaze turned sad. Although years had passed since her death, he still missed his twin sister as if it were the first day. "She lived for acting. Everything else was unimportant."

Anne pressed her lips together. She had read a lot about vampirism and magic in the last few weeks. At first, she thought becoming a vampire was the real deal. But she found the descriptions that she had to kill Sims for immortality terrible. She would never put her own life above that of others. But eternal youth was also described in magic, at a much lower price. "But you had the magic."

Bishop looked at her thoughtfully. "Not really, neither I nor Bridgette were talented at magic. Which almost drove Pa crazy. Thanks to the Watcher, Clementine can use the magic to its full extent."

Anne: "Is it true that Grandpa made Danielle's mum a magician?"

Bishop swallowed hard. "How do you come up with that?"

Anne shrugged innocently.

Bishop exhaled heavily. He had always been afraid of this conversation. After Bridgette's death, he had decided that neither Anne nor Jana should ever have anything to do with the Occult World. It was enough that they bore the name Gothington, for that reason alone they were already in danger.

Bishop: "Anne, it is true that there are ways to obtain magical powers. But it is dangerous. The Occult world is dangerous. I don't want you or Jana to ever come into contact with it."

Anne: "It's okay with Danielle?!"

Bishop: "Danielle is very blessed with magic. She had to learn to control them and she was a danger to you."

Anne: "And now she's not, thanks to Aunt Clementine. I want to be like you and Danielle. I don't care how dangerous it is. Will you help me, or do I have to find the way myself?"

*******

A few hours later.

Bishop himself could not believe that he had traveled with Anne to the realm of magic. That was pure madness.

As soon as he was there, he looked for Kolamano. The sage of untamed magic. He didn't know exactly what relationship he had with his sister Clementine, but she obviously trusted him. Therefore, he had decided to do so.

Kolamano: "Bishop Gothington."

Bishop nodded in greeting. Anne stayed behind a few meters away. "I have a request," he choked out.

Kolamano: "I hear."

Bishop: "My daughter Anne was born without magic."

Kolamano: "Not all of our descendants are worthy of the old power."

Bishop: "She's a Gothington. Therefore, it can only be an mistake of nature."

Kolamano: "A mistake?!" He paused and thought. "The times are difficult and dangerous for magicians."

Bishop pressed his lips together and nodded in agreement.

Kolamano: "If it is her wish, I will examine her."

Bishop withdrew, leaving his daughter alone with the sage.

Kolamano: "Anne, so you think nature was wrong and you should be accepted into the ranks of the magicians like your father and grandfather?"

Anne: "Yes."

Kolamano: "Why? You are aware that we magicians are currently being hunted and killed."

Anne's pulse quickened. "Yes. I still want to, because I want to help the Sims."

Kolamano: "You can do that even as an ordinary Sim."

Anne straightened her shoulders and stretched her chin defiantly towards the sage. "I'm not ordinary. I'm a Gothington."

Kolamano: "You're right. Good if it's your wish." He cast a silent spell and made Anne one of them.

[ravencromwell]

For the character ask game, Athos Dane: 7, 10, and 20.

7. A quote of them you remember: "No one suffers as beautifully as you." And before everyone starts laughing at my terrible cliche—it is terribly cliched, I would pair it with "My plaything is dead". The no one suffers as beautifully as you comes just after Athos's interlude with Beloc where Beloc tried, and did real damn good for a teenager, to be defiant, but eventually answered Athos's questions about his name etc. without yet having the Soul Seal on. Contrast this to Athos's "Sing for me, Holland" in ACOL, which Holland refuses to do.

Yes, Beloc is undoubtedly fun, but fundamentally, he knows how this game is going to go. The fact that Holland still has defiance, after seven years, seems to just fucking enthrall Athos. He makes Holland fill the blood goblets partially just to fuck with Kell, but also for that flicker of rage and humiliation Kell notices as being so out of character. Fundamentally, he doesn't know when Holland will give him the last scrap of power, and that's what keeps him coming back.

But any love or fascination or what have you is utterly gone once Holland is no longer a spectacle: my plaything, he says, in his own pov while talking to his sister. He feels "annoyance at his servant's incompetence" The one time he mentions Holland by name, it's to tell Kell how he and Holland are fundamentally flawed when compared to Athos.

Everything this man did for seven fucking years around Holland was either about furthering his goals or getting some kind of reaction, be it in his choice of conversation topics or experiment subjects.

Holland has a line that is so fucking sad to me in that context in ACOL where he says he never screamed if he could help it, out of the quixotic hope if Athos didn't get a reaction, he'd just kill him already. There's something so fucking tragic I don't have words for the fact that Holland's refusal to stop being a person, at least in small ways, and even the ways he tried to provoke Athos, were so much of what made him interesting enough to never let fade into the background as a particularly useful pair of hands. Because as we see with essentially sending Beloc out as canon fodder, and again with the dismissive "my plaything" comment after Holland's dead, once there's no longer potential for interesting power dynamics, he's bored moving on. 

10. Describe the character in one sentence.: "Intelligence has never tempered my desire. It merely ensures I take what I wish without consequence."—Athos Dane, to his hypothetical biographer, poor bastard.

20. A weird headcanon:

He may have learned to read on the coast primarily to sniff out magic, but when he arrives at the castle, he finds he quite enjoys books outside of magic. Vortalis was a military histories fan, which Athos "journey of the battle" absolutely fucking devours for the play by play.

Astrid likes the White London version of Caesar: careful, methodical, only moving when the field was to his advantage.

Athos, though, it's the underdogs. The White London Hannibal bringing his elephants in what everyone called folly; the Lord Caradoc/Caratacus resisting a much larger force. Just _immensely his jam.

And once he got started, he wanted more of anything Holland thought might rouse his interest. I don't think the Danes had any _reason to go to Grey London, but I suspect that by God, if the Mareshes Antari could go, they sent Holland there on the semiregular (I will play with the toys, too!) One of the things Grey had neither Red nor White did was a thriving fiction culture. And if you're one Holland Vosijk, who wants to be able to bring back some escapism for yourself, you'd better be prepared to bring back gifts.

Which leads me to: Athos Dane, sometime Shakespeare fan and more often critic.

1. Huge, huge fucking fan of Iago. Iago knows how to properly manipulate some people. (Except of course, as is the problem with so many people, he got squeamish in the end. If he had killed the messengers from Venice when they found him in the alley, he would never have needed to kill his wife and certainly never have been tortured and executed. But Iago pre–Othello Act Five: _spectacular.

2. Huge Richard III fan—likes all the histories, honestly. But that "winter of our discontent" monologue: gets him _every time. Richard, now there's a man who knows how to embrace being hated. (Though that he cares at all about fool's opinion of him just demonstrates he lacked an Astrid. Without that one person for unconditional affection and non-judgment, he could only embrace it so far.

3. Hamlet completely cracks him up in an awful way. Or rather, the ways in which Holland and Hamlet's desire for revenge mirror one another. "You thought you were Hamlet, coming down that hall and did not understand we were not his foolish uncle!"

4. The rest of it: Romeo and Juliet, the comedies, most of the other tragedies, just _trash. Characters too weak to dominate the way they should or unrealistic ("blood never denies blood what they want" he says of the Capulets etc. smiling beatifically at Astrid.

5. Astrid has the copy of Titus Andronicus. Major Queen Tamora fangirl "We shall serve the Arnesians their royals in pie," Athos says, when Astrid sighs over missing their opportunity with Holland.

Athos is very theatrical, has a multitude of ideas for how to stage the Shakespeare sets with magic when they take Arnes, and is very keen to read other plays.

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Villain AU - Deadlock, Part 2

Part 1 ||

I'm trying not to linger for too long with the chapters. I know where I want to head with this, and doing too much exposition might branch me into other sub-plots and I don't have the energy for thaaaaat.

So far I'm having fun with this AU :]

Quick note that this AU is set years after the events of the two movies. Characters are mid 20's to early 30's.

Also, goddamn, never thought I'd be researching things about collecting evidence and its naming convention for a court case 😂 writing does indeed make me learn a bunch of stuff~

The card was safe. All scans indicated that no trackers were attached, to which Donnie couldn't help laughing at, in a sense. What a lost opportunity. Yet again, maybe that woman had no need to track anyone .... for the moment.

It was with a long sigh that Donatello finally sat at his desk, staring at anywhere his eyes would fall. Leo had chewed him up a little after this failure of a mission. How could he have predicted this, anyway? It's not as if they're to expect random people at every missions they go out to! Donnie pinched in-between his eyes, right under his glasses, trying to clear his thoughts. He next nonchalantly got the woman's card out of his pocket, taking a moment to look over the drawing once again. What a clown, he thought.

Leaving it on his desk, he next lunged towards a toolbox nearby, retrieving an utility knife. Then hunching over the small piece, he proceeded to careful cut around the felt chip inside. Getting the prize out of its prison, Donnie then went for a USB key into which he could insert the hardware into a designed slot. He paused before plugging the device into his computer, opting first to open a secured session - to avoid any infiltraton nor leaks.

Plugging the USB key, he didn't have to wait long before a file opened, revealing two documents. The first one contained code, which he knew must have been what was used to confuse his tracking. The other was a single textfile:

Congratulations! To anyone reading this, you're not a complete idiot :) If I took anything from you, I am not sorry. Learn to keep your information under better security, you fucking scrub. If you found this randomly, or you're a fan of my work, consider paying me for my good broker's work. Follow the white rabbit and you'll find your way ;) With love, smooth_criminal

"Follow the white rabbit?" pondered Donnie to himself.

Opening back the code file, he started to search for keywords. "Smooth_criminal" found several instances, hinting that it was her username, or rather administrator name, on her computer. Curious, he then searched for "white rabbit". There were indeed some instances, and starting from the top always had the text followed by a "go lower" mention. Donnie couldn't help the light smirk on his lips. She was clearly referencing Alice in Wonderland, following the rabbit down its hole. The last mention was found next to a website address, one Donnie had already seen before. It was one of those sketchy places on the dark web that often dealt in information brokering, doxxing, questionable freelance contracts, you name it! Personally he was not a fan, but it did prove an interesting starting point whenever he needed to start his searches somewhere.

Knowing he'd have some ways to go before finding any of her traces, he paused his work and instead went to prepare some coffee. I'll sleep when I'm dead.

***

Unsurprisingly enough, Donnie did find a user by the name of "smooth_criminal". How original.

Was it her, though? There was always a possibility that she could have set breadcrumbs towards a dummy account, or simply some random person on that website. But now knowing that she was an information broker, if she were to build herself a brand, she simply couldn't lead any potential clients away.

Retrieving an account Donatello had created ages ago, he first poked around the forums to first get a grasp of how she was operating around. Well-versed in internet speak, yet remaining professional, the woman appeared to always wanting to get straight to the point. Time was money, and if she had to poke often in order to get simple information, she was quick to dismiss anybody.

Many users were leaving good reviews about her work; impartial and efficient were the major key words. She didn't give a fuck about your background or what you were doing with the information. In the end it was only a job waiting to be done.

Who wanted the Foot investors' list then, wondered Donnie as he opened a window to send her a direct message. He had to make sure it was really her.

HookedOnCoffee: What are your prices?

He sat back in his chair, patiently looking at the screen. It surprisingly didn't take long to spot the usual three dots in the chat, indicating that she was typing.

smooth_criminal: Depends on the type of information you want and the equipment I have to use. Can range from 700 to 1K+. What's your need?

Goddamn. Donnie was quick to open his bank account information (something he always kept hidden from his brothers, but definitely not from his father). It's been a while since he last did some freelance work, so his funds were starting to get low, but he could still afford something - relunctantly. Yet he also wanted to test her skills...

HookedOnCoffee: I need you to retrieve lost information about Sacks Group Ltd. smooth_criminal: You realize that company was disbanded years ago with the arrestation of Eric Sacks, yes?

Donnie smirked. He already knew where to get the information.

HookedOnCoffee: Are you comfortable with reaching into police classified documentation? They have digital records that may prove difficult to access... Only if you feel up to the challenge.

He felt like a smartass - and he liked it.

smooth_criminal: Just 'cause you're assuming I'd be a coward about it, I'll charge you 2K. Half of it before, second half when I have the info. You want it when?

Now Donatello wasn't smiling anymore... He glanced at his finances another time, sighing. He'd definitely need to refill his account after this. Welp, no sleep for me in the upcoming weeks.

HookedOnCoffee: The sooner, the better. Start tomorrow night. The information is at the Police Department at 1 Police Plaza Path, Lower Manhattan. Near the City Hall.

smooth_criminal: Send me the money and you got yourself a deal.

"A deal I could've done myself," mumbled the terrapin, sourly giving away the first part of the sum.

***

Of course it had to rain on that night. The end of winter and early signs of spring always brought this weird shift in the weather that always froze Donnie straight to his bones. Perched on a tall building near the given spot, he lowered his googles onto his glasses, shifting the lenses for a night vision. He knew the best point of entrance would be by the building's roof, especially through the large vent openings. Would the woman need to make her way to the actual hardware, or could she hack herself from a distance? The terrapin couldn't help feeling curious about her course of action - as outlawed it may be.

He spotted a form making its way on top of the police's building. Was that a grappling hook? He was starting to get a little impressed...

It indeed looked like the woman he saw back at that Foot stronghold, recognizing parts of her gear and those flashing green googles.

"Gotcha," smiled the turtle to himself, noticing her get into a vent.

He sprung to action, calculating his jump and fall to land straight onto the police building. Setting up a remote tracker into the vent she went into, he opted for another entry point - one he knew would converge with hers at some point.

One advantage of being the slimmest out of his brothers was that he could easily make his way through the tunnels. His weight was still a concern, mostly due to his techm but Donnie felt no rush to make his way completely to the woman, prefering to get a screen out and take control of the remote tracker he sent. He wouldn't lie about the fact that he did prepare for this coup. He already had a layout of the vents and knew where the information was stored. Did that smooth criminal do the same? Donnie stopped his tracker around a corner, soon getting a view of the woman now looking down through a grid. She first got a device out of one of her bags, turning it on and slightly slapping its side with a grunt. The antenna on it brought Donatello to guess that it might be a sort of camera jammer. Tapping some instructions in, the woman switched her device for a sort of screwdriver, then taking care of the grid. She first started diagonally, then holding a loose part of the grid and unscrewing the remaining corners. It allowed her to hold the grid and attach it to her grappling hook, then gently lowering it into the room below.

She graciously made her way down, Donnie's tracker following suit as careful as he could. The next room was filled with computer towers and only two screens in one corner. The terrapin smirked when he got a look through his screen. Of course there wasn't going to be a server to tap into for easy access. Which computer had the right information? That could take hours to find out...

The intruder appeared defeated for moment, patiently making her way around the room and trying to find any potential revelation as to which information was stored where. She brought her left wrist up, a hologram screen appearing and she was then scrolling through different windows and texts. Tapping to the side of her facemask, she then proceeded to launch a call, to Donnie's great confusion. As soon as it picked up, the other end of the line announcing itself to be NYPD's bureau of investigations, the woman started to talk, but her voice was now mimicking another.

"Chief Rebecca Vincent speaking," said the woman - and her tone was indeed modified to resemble Vincent's. "There is a request pending for disclosing evidence of the Sacks Group Ltd case. I have a team that must access their digital files for a classified investigation."

"We can have the hardware delivered to any desired precinct-"

"The team will be going directly to the department in order to avoid unecessary dispatch of the evidence. I only need the serial number of the machine on which the information is stored, and my investigators will reach into it first thing tomorrow morning."

"Appendix FAP.SGL-14-TRN-1318.LAN"

"Thank you, that is all."

The call ended, leaving Donnie slightly impressed. Not bad... not bad at all! If she had been smarter, she would've researched the court case and found that information beforehand - but his request of acquiring the evidence in the briefest delays might have pushed her to accelerate her processes.

The criminal was next on the move, easily finding the labeled computer and whipping out an external drive to plug it into. Tapping onto the devices with her left wrist's hologram, she completed the transfer in no time.

"Easy peasy," came out the woman's voice in its flanged tone, disconnecting her device.

She got one of her calling cards out, placing it on the computer tower before turning heels and proceeding to climb back up the vent and seal it shut. What a goddamn fool, thought Donnie, already moving his tracking device towards the card. You don't leave evidence after such a flawless performance... Collecting it, the mutant then steered the tracker through a hole in the grid, after making sure that the woman was no longer in sight. He finally got on the move as well, ordering his device to track back to him automatically. If he was quick enough, maybe he'd get to see where the other would head next. The downpour was hitting harder now, instantly souring Donnie's mood. Collecting his tracker and the card, he didn't wait to scan the perimeters, hoping to catch any traces of the human. The rain was making it harder to catch anything, his sensors mostly picking activity from nearby cars and some daring pedestrians out in this weather. Unwillingly forfeiting, the terrapin shook some water off before deciding to head back to the Lair...

***

The first thing Vee needed was a hot shower.

As she got into her small apartment, she instantly dropped her gear onto the nearest table, then stripping down and throwing her soaked clothes into a corner.

Standing beneath the hot stream, she closed her eyes, letting any and all stress wash down the drain. Her mind did wander back to the information she was tasked to gather. Usually her clients would request data that was fresh or of a high value ... so for her to collect documents from Eric Sacks' company seemed to be completely out of the blue.

Curiosity killed the cat. Stepping out of the shower and quickly putting out panties and a large hoodie, she grabbed the external drive and plugged it into her computer. Her initial search through the files mostly revealed budgets, employee files, so on and so forth. But her eyes did catch something about the project 'Renaissance', the simple mention of turtle subjects grabbing her interest.

Her thoughts brought her back to that night at the Foot's stronghold. She truly did wonder if she would ever see one of them again, although it might not be in her best interests. Maybe her commissioner wanted information as well regarding those mutants? With a shrug, Vee first copied the documents to herself, then zipping the rest for her client.

Logging onto the usual website, she first pinged her investor:

smooth_criminal: Here is a shot of the file, showing you that I have it. Send me the rest of the decided price and I will send it your way right away.

She couldn't help yawning, hoping her client wouldn't answer late so she could go to sleep next... After what felt like an eternity (frankly, it was more like 5 minutes), she saw the usual three dots pop up in the conversation.

HookedOnCoffee: I hope it wasn't too much of a hassle for you.

And with that, they sent the rest of the money, Vee already accepting and then starting the transfer.

smooth_criminal: I do not disclose any details of the operation. You have your information, that's what matters. HookedOnCoffee: Aight. Business is business, I get it.

Vee did lightly fiddle her fingers above her keyboard, debating if it was a good idea to poke about the data...

smooth_criminal: ... I'm curious though, why Sacks? Forgive my intrusion, but that company was mostly dealing in the medical sphere. The only interesting document I can think of would be in regards to the project Renaissance.

She hoped she wasn't shooting herself in the foot. Vee usually wanted to avoid digging into her client's affairs, but with her recent meeting with the turtles, she only wanted to connect some dots. The other's answer took some time before being delivered.

HookedOnCoffee: Some components of that project need to be revisited for personal matter. I will only leave it at that.

Fair. Vee kept a mental note to dig more into the files. Maybe there was indeed something in there that could be worth selling for...

***

Donnie could't have wished for a more ideal situation. Getting that file transfer from her gave the terrapin all the information he needed in order to tap into her system, plus the discreet session hijack he could launch alongside the last money payment. He didn't want to log into her hardware right away, fearing that it would raise an instant suspicion on the woman's part. Instead he prefered to be entertained by her random inquiry about project Renaissance. Aren't you supposed to be impartial or something?

He didn't really need the information - in fact he already had most of the files thanks to April and the police department. There wasn't much to be found in those documents, except the mention of the green ooze that was classified as alien. Most, if not all of it had been lost in the lab fire, which resulted in the substance never being really studied other than the initial tests. There were traces in his family's blood and it could be tested ... but they did really need to?

Donatello saved the woman's system information with a satisfied tap on his keyboard. As he leaned back into his chair with a relieved sigh, Raphael was walking nearby the workstation, having just finished a training session.

"What's up, nerd?" asked the red banded one.

"Oh I just love when things go according to plan," smiled the bespectacled mutant.

He vaguely gestured his screen, looking over at his brother with a smug expression.

"Remember that woman that stole the information from that Foot stronghold?"

"... I mean, I didn't see her, but yes."

"I've tracked her and I might be able to hack into her system."

Raph was now intrigued, coming closer and soon a smirk creeping on his features.

"Can you get a view from her webcam? Is she hot?"

"I, uh-"

That's right, he could see how she looked like! But was it wise to risk it now?...

"If she's smart, she either doesn't have a cam, or the view is blocked when not in use."

"Ay, come on, let's try anyway," nudged the large terrapin.

Here goes nothing... Using the ID he gathered, he was able to bypass firewalls by disgusing his connection as a simple operating system check. Entering some commands on his side, he soon had a list of accessible devices; one being indeed a webcam. He glanced at Raph before hovering and clicking the option with his cursor.

"If she notices and blocks my connection, you're a dead man."

"Good luck trying to beat me, twig."

With a double-click, a new window popped onto the screen, first giving out a black screen. After a quick loading, a video feed now appeared, allowing the two turtles to witness a view into the woman's apartment; and her form as well. She was up and about, collecting some of her gear she had scattered on her arrival.

"Bro, is she only wearin' a hoodie?" started Raph.

Donnie pointed at the screen when the woman bent forward.

"She has panties on."

Both brothers looked at eachother, smirking.

"Nice," they said in unison.

Looking back at the screen, Donatello took notes of her appearance. Colored hair, glasses, some visible tattoos on her legs and one at the top of her right hand. He knew she also had one on her chest, but did she have more? She wasn't bad looking - in fact he'd be a liar to say she was anything else but pretty. Her apartment appeared small, but quite enough for her needs. Various tech and scraps were laying around, the woman obviously working on some new gadgets of her own.

"Watchu gonna do now that you found her?" questionned the red clad mutant.

Donnie's finger tapped on his desk, pondering the question himself.

"... I'm quite not sure, to be honest. My first instinct would be to retrieve the information she took from us, but at the same time I want to know more about her. She seems quite capable with technology, and from what I've found she's also a competent information broker. ... I'm worried she's using all that talent for the wrong reasons."

"Ya think she could become an asset for the team?"

The purple clad mutant's gaze remained on the woman on screen, weighing what his brother said.

"... High risk, high reward. She could be useful, but there could be a potential danger that she'd out us out to anyone offering a large amount of money."

"Not if you intimidate her out of the idea," shrugged Raph.

Donnie frowned: "I won't do that!"

"I will then."

"No, just- Stop! Let me think over this."

Still frowning, he continued to look over at the woman, the gears of his mind turning. Frankly, he wanted to meet her again.

***

Living a normal life always paled so much compared to the thrills of seeking out information around the city. Her day job was more of an alibi. Getting employeed at a coffee shop that was opened 24/7 only offerred the greatest opportunity to alter a payroll and, bam!, yes I was working on that night.

Sighing as she closed the entrance door behind her, Vee's steps lingered out of fatigue, first making her way towards the small kitchen and grab a glass of water. She had been sollicited a lot lately from various contractors, offerring her very little to no sleep over the last few days.

As she walked past her computer, she halted after a few steps - and mid-drink - and frowned as she looked over her screens. Is she really that tired? Is the mouse cursor moving on its own??

She watched for some minutes as she saw windows getting opened and closed, all on their own. Annoyed, she took a seat and forcefully grabbed the control back on the cursor. Opening a notepad document, she instantly wrote:

Hello??? Who the fuck do you think you are???

Some lines were skipped, a simple word being added:

Hi :)

"Esti d'criss," she swore in French before rushing out of her seat.

She made a beeline to her router, knocking stuff over in her hurry. First unplugging the box, she looked back over her screen like a deer facing headlights, almost expecting an entity to jump out of there for some reason...

Finally walking back to her desk, she first saw that the internet connection had successfully been cut. When glancing back at the previously opened notepad, she saw another line written:

Don't worry, I just wanted to know more about you. I got what I needed. We'll meet one day.

That sent a shiver down Vee's spine - not the good kind. She tried to go over the list of people she last dealt with. Did she provoke anyone without really wanting to? Or maybe it was a weirdo that was too enamored with her work? Freaked out for the evening, Vee decided to turn off her machine, prefering to focus on anything else.

((Part 3))

[artdagz]

Hey, another Leo escaped the prison dimension differently fanfic.

Don't know if I'll ever be able to finish anything again, but I still want to share this.

Fair warning: it is angst, last chance, injuries and some humor. If you see any more things let me know.

I neither have a name for this yet, nor do I want to post the working title since it's a bit of a spoiler. Let's call it:

‐--------

Leonardo the Blue turtle - intro

Leonardo couldn't take it anymore, realistically he knew,  He couldn't expect his brother's to break the laws of physics and save him from another dimension.

 Still his broken mind and shattered body would not accept the fact he had probably been trapped here for days. 

The krang had beaten him up good but faced with the choice to end him the monster did decide not to. Not out of mercy, leonardo was sure. 

The turtles shell was broken as were his legs and one arm,  but he was still breathing and defying death,  cause yeah not gonna make it that easy.

He never did anything the easy way, never seemed to learn, so why would he now?

In a better world his brothers probably already saved him and he could complain about the fact they ended up in jersey, but right now he didn't see that happening. 

Looking at the photo he was still clutching in his less injured hand he was hit with a wave of melancholy,  the sort that came with the idea of "at least they're save now." Before he sighed and pushed it down. 

He had been throwing himself a pity party long enough. Had been waiting for his brothers to save him long enough. 

They couldn't blame him anymore if he waited long enough and decided to try to break himself free or die trying. 

Which, honestly, both sounded better than to keep on rotting and wallowing in self pity,  since death also seemed too busy to get him in the next decade or so. 

So either Leo got out or death would be forced to reschedule for him.  Leo refused to Die out of boredom and pain, thank you very much. 

Looking over to where he had spotted his sword had ended up, Leo looked around one more time. If krang was still lurking somewhere, he didn't hear or see him. 

Sucker would probably wait for him to crawl over to his sword before tearing him a new one anyway, plus Leo wasn't gonna wait anymore. 

Stashing away the photo Leo began to crawl over to his sword using mostly one arm and the parts of his limbs that weren't broken. 

He had managed to splint his legs with his sword sheaths but it was a temporary job anyways and in a few moments this probably wouldn't matter anymore anyway, cause he intended to really give it everything he got. 

He was the portal guy,  so technically this should get him out of here,  right?

Nevermind. 

He was feeling eyes on him now,  but he wasn't squashed in the dirt yet so let the krang get some entertainment out of this,  Leo didn't care. Sounds of agony he released weren't only for show, simply more exaggerated than probably necessary,  cause the real agony for Leo was waiting or the idea he wouldn't get back to his brothers. 

But let the krang think he wants his sword for self protection or to soothe himself or some bull. Leo had been hyping himself up and gathering energy as long as his patience would let him and as soon as he could touch his sword he was out of here, one way or another. 

Taking a small break to breathe Leo briefly wondered if he'll end up with his ancestors if it didn't work and if they would scold him. 

Thinking back to granny karai, he didn't hate the idea seeing her again. 

Still he grit his teeth, eyes on the prize he pushed on. 

The "eyes" He felt boring into him brought on an uncomfortable tense atmosphere and he didn't want to wait for krang to lose his patience. 

Feeling a shift in his surroundings he swore he felt the moment the krang leapt towards him.  Taking one last leap himself he channeled all his energy into his sword at first touch.  The effort and closeness of krang making him give off one last scream as he felt himself disintegrate. 

The painful feeling of being taken apart not overshadowing the smug satisfaction he had as he could still see krang grabbing onto nothing as he faded out of this dimension. 

Leo shot the raging krang one last smug grin before being gone. 

In reality the time that passed while he faded was probably just a split second but Leo swears he could observe the krang trying to grab him just mere milliseconds before Leo reached his sword and got away in slow motion. This was most likely just the adrenaline and his senses being sent into overdrive just to be able to live out his potential last moments as much as he could. Now Leo couldn't deny the satisfaction of having gotten away, the outcome be damned. The krang did not get to control Leos life,  death or emotions anymore. Screw you, spit out bubblegum face. 

Even still,  a small part of the sliders brain couldn't help but wonder what would be next as soon as that all consuming white would be gone. 

Huh,  he'll just have to wait and see. 

With that thought the white light overtook all his senses and with the feeling of his body completely lost he gave in. 

[vermillioncrown]

🧠 Lang-zhangmen? Or Shuangfeng?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

i'll do both

=

lang-zhangmen likes to fish in their spare time. now, the sect knows this, but no one has ever seen this nor admitted to seeing this. they talk about fishing to their personal disciples, sometimes the dinners have fresh catches of the day, and the time that yan xichao was 'fishing' was from word-of-mouth of various fishing techniques as apparently mentioned by lang-zhangmen over the years. however, no one catches them fishing because they use their typically done-up looks as a distraction so when they dress down, they just look like a random elder of the sect (they have a second 'identity' but only their peers know enough to confirm).

=

shuangfeng kids, as you can imagine, are fucking relentless when it comes to roasting their own. like most canto kids being left to their own devices (more or less), they have an extensive list of nicknames for each other and notable people that the sect encounters.

an example that has happened within the last few months of the qishan wen discussion conference is of an older disciple with surname lan, or laan in cantonese (not 'blue' like the gusu lan, but 'orchid' lan).

kid is a known party boy, and i think i've already hinted that shuangfeng doesn't care as long as you don't proverbially shit where you eat. but he finally goes on a bender so bad that he is the spiritual originator of The Hangover, xianxia version, which has him vehemently swear in the middle of heaven's court peak to "QUIT EVERYTHING. I ABSTAIN FROM EVERYTHING". and he does, and practically forces himself to be like a monk. vegetarian and shit.

now, the cantonese word for 'to abstain/to quit' is gaai.

after legendary laan's adventure and officially quitting while he was ahead, everyone now calls him 'gaai laan', which is at least two-fold pun and can be reached for three.

戒蘭 'gaai laan' for his renouncing of all partying, 芥蘭 'gaai laan' as a homophone for chinese broccoli and mocking him for becoming like a real monk, and a subcategory of taunt for him fucking around before bc a unit vegetable [一]條菜 [nei] tiu coi is a derogatory way of referencing someone's girl. their hoe, essentially

and with all canto nicknames i know of, they eventually act like actual titles for that person rather than a way to poke fun at them. we'll never learn disciple laan's full name, sadly

[evilkitten3]

naruto volumes i own rated by how much sasuke is in them

vol 37 - he's mentioned by naruto a couple times. shows up in the preview for the next volume. 0/10 where is he

vol 45 - we open with sasuke! couple pages of naruto, one of some unimportant kumo nin (and jay. dw bby ur important to me) watching sasuke, then it's back to sasuke thinking about all the teams he's been on. cut to naruto for some light reading (books with jiraiya: this time, it's NOT porn!), then back to sasuke. then we cut to a flashback but it's still of sasuke (and some masked guy who's mostly just there for sasuke to angst at (i know who tobi is before anyone @s me). now we jump to the raikage lifting a weight for. some reason, naruto gets a few more pages, and then sasuke returns, bringing with him the panels that got animated and eventually became the Is Nothing Easy meme. cut to jay for half a second before sasuke shows up and kills his lizard (also presumably jay. rip in pieces my guy you will not be forgotten). zetsu and totally-madara-why-would-you-even-ask-get-off-my-dick chat for a panel, and then we get a bit more raikage followed by team samui (i think this is their introduction??? idk i love these three tho). naruto does some more stuff, the cloud nin find jay, and i haven't seen sasuke in nearly 20 pages wtf. the tragic lack of sasuke continues, with the only tagentially sasuke-related thing being the revelation that nobody bothered to change the locks after itachi (officially) went rogue. finally we hit something more direct but it's still just kisame noting that killer bee pulled a fast one on him, followed by killer bee saying that sasuke (or, "that sharingan dude" is probably the toughest opponent he's ever faced (rip to the three other people who were also there i don't think he noticed), and that's the last we see of him. 7/10 strong start but we got offtrack

vol 50 - this time he's in the first panel!!!! and seems to be getting his ass kicked. lots of things are on fire. we have a bit of sasuke vs the raikage until gaara shows up and saves. honestly probably both of them (the other sand sibs are also there), and the raikage hacks his own arm off bc it happens to be one of the many things that are currently on fire. gaara projects on sasuke a lot, his siblings point out that he's kinda wasting his time (temari is the only one with a good argument here ngl), and sasuke doesn't really care about gaara's problems. we get a bit of danzou and some other people who are in the same room as him, and then it's back to sasuke vs the sand sibs (+ darui and sasori's corpse) but susano'o no sells all of them which i gotta say must feel really awkward bc this is three jounin and a kage against a guy who never made it past genin. sasuke gloats a bit bc he's earned it and then sets about destroying some shit having seemingly decided "fuck this building and everyone in it" (karin not included) but somehow no named characters die. there's some more sasuke-less panels and then we finally get everybody's favorite upside down sasuke! he and danzou glare at each other for a bit before some guy (mifune? i think???? idk) attacks him and accomplishes nothing. danzou fucks off and sasuke has to get through the mist nin now. the mizukage hits on him but unfortunately her name is neither Revenge nor Naruto so sasuke isn't interested. for some reason choujuurou thinks sasuke killed zabuza which. ok sure idc, and sasuke puts up a pretty good defense until he gets thrown through a wall and we learn that all his cells hurt (i don't know if that's actually physically possible but i don't care enough to find out). the mizukage seems to be the only person intent on actually causing sasuke some problems but fortunately (?) zetsu shows up to help out (sasuke. to help out sasuke. nobody else is having a good time). the iwa nin decide to maybe do some stuff even though the tsuchikage really doesn't give a shit (and credits sasuke with deidara's death. which. bro he did that to himself). karin thinks sasuke is dead and something maybe happens with kankurou but it's not clear what, but then tobi i mean madara shows up with sasuke's presumably unconscious body (he looks silly. i won't lie). cut to sakura being Up To Something, followed by kakashi on clean up duty, and naruto on sitting-around-thinking-about-sasuke duty. sasuke gets kamui'd, which nobody is happy about, and then so does karin, which nobody but her cares about (sorry bby). obito sits his gay ass down and vents at the assembled governments, call them all pussies for believing in hope, and declares war. lastly sakura tries to balance caring about multiple people and naruto continues to ignore his ongoing bisexual crisis. 9/10 so much sasuke

vol 51 - i'll cut to the chase this is basically sasuke the book the movie the tv show the bible the play. there's so much happening here it's a sasuke soap opera inside a sasuke soap opera. sasuke's replacement tells sasuke's boyfriend that sasuke's girlfriend is planning to kill sasuke. sasuke's teacher and sasuke's teacher's kouhai are also there. sasuke's boyfriend envisions the polycule shattering and sasuke's boyfriend's other sandier boyfriend shows up with his sibs to drop some hot info at the worst possible time. meanwhile sasuke's abductor/helper/cousin/uncle/guy who helped sasuke's brother kill sasuke's family talks to sasuke's current murder target. sasuke's target and sasuke's target's brainwashed minions attempt to fight sasuke's least/most helpful family member. sasuke's boyfriend dumps sasuke's boyfriend's other sandier boyfriend and sasuke confronts sasuke's maskiest relative and demands to be released (along with sasuke's girlfriend two electric bitealoo). sasuke's target shows off the result of sasuke's mutilated family members and sasuke demands confirmation on sasuke's brother's true mission. sasuke's boyfriend thinks about sasuke and has a panic attack. sasuke's target accuses sasuke's brother of treason (the one crime sasuke's brother objectively didn't commit, for better or worse), and we go into eyeball battle while sasuke's girlfriend two electric bitealoo tries to figure out wtf is happening. also sasuke has a hawk now. sasuke's target manages to piss off sasuke even more by having an open mouth with words coming from it, and sasuke's brother shows up to jumpscare him but it's actually just an illusion. sasuke gets trapped and sasuke's girlfriend two electric bitealoo tries to help but unfortunately she's a girl in a shounen manga so that's illegal. we learn that sasuke's worst chemistry teacher was working with sasuke's target at some point bc friends who war crime together win together i guess. sasuke's personal exposition machine exposits izanagi which he totally won't use to be a jackass later haha don't worry about it. sasuke's target also has a summon (@ english manga that is a fucking baku not a tapir good grief). sasuke tricks sasuke's target into thinking his eyes were still open and sasuke's girlfriend two electric bitealoo lets him chormp. sasuke's target isn't dead tho and manages to take sasuke's girlfriend two electric bitaloo hostage but sasuke really wants him dead so oops surprise break up via stabbing i guess. sasuke's evil senpai cheers him on, sasuke's target has a flashback and kills himself bc fuck you, and sasuke's girlfriend knocks out sasuke's girlfriend's sasuke hunting team to go on alone. sasuke's (ex) girlfriend two electric bitealoo has a flashback about a bear and sasuke's boyfriend tricks sasuke's teacher's kouhai and chases after sasuke's girlfriend. sasuke and sasuke's girlfriend try to kill each other but sasuke's teacher steps in. sasuke's teacher decides to try to kill sasuke himself and tells sasuke's ex girlfriend to kidnap sasuke's other ex girlfriend. 10/10 lots of break-ups but plenty of sasuke

vol 53 - ok this is scary bc more than the first half of this volume is naruto and he doesn't think about sasuke even once. is he ok. did he hit his head. what's going on buddy you can talk to me. but anyway kushina shows up and through the power of flashbacks we are given baby sasuke! who kushina thinks is a girl at first. he's only there for like three panels but ch 501 has a cover of baby sasuke and baby naruto, so there's that. we then get some more baby sasuke with pre-bad decisions itachi who makes a very sweet promise that he probably shouldn't have kept as hard as he did oops. 5/10 there was some sasuke but not very much. extra point for cuteness tho

vol 54 - naruto thinks of sasuke as a friend he's "not getting along with right now" which is a very interesting way to describe their past few interactions but alright. he's not mentioned again until deidara yells that he killed sasuke and the tsuchikage realizes no one bothered to tell him that sasuke is not only fine but probably forgot about that whole encounter three seconds after having it. 2.5/10 it should probably be a 1 bc sasuke is barely even mentioned but kisame is my favorite character so i'm giving this volume a bonus sasuke point in his honor, and a .5 for konan

vol 56 - the only sasuke is the ch 531 chapter cover. unacceptable. 0/10

vol 58 - naruto acknowledges that "madara" is influencing sasuke's hate, which seems to be the biggest reason why naruto knows he's a bad guy (also the nagato thing). he's only going to try talking to him after he's been stopped. sure naruto whatever you need to tell yourself. we get a cover for ch 548 with all three of the team seven teens (poor sakura is trapped in the middle and barely shows up in tankouban volume format... kakashi's stuck in the background too but at least i don't have to practically flatten the book to see him...) itachi shows up and is shocked to learn that his plan to give his little brother as much ptsd as possible left him ever so slightly not ok. itachi has an excellent response to this, by which i mean he tells naruto to buckle down on the lie so the uchiha family name isn't tarnished (...buddy.) and then says that he actually had a backup plan in case the first plan (traumatize sasuke -> die -> hope no one ever told sasuke the truth and also that no one immediately went back on their word and killed him anway) went to shit. of course this other plan happened to be "just strip him of his free will and force him to do what i want bc there's no way this could possibly backfire", which is now also no longer an option bc he just used it on himself. remember that whole "itachi loves sasuke more than the village" thing? yeah that's maybe not quite as true as he'd like it to be. luckily for itachi naruto sees blind loyalty enforced through brainwashing as a good thing (if it benefits him. if, say, someone had a secret army of brainwashed children and sent one of them to kill sasuke, that would be bad. but if itachi does the same thing it's good bc naruto gets to have him where he wants him regardless of sasuke's personal opinion on the matter. this is a healthy and normal way to react to this sort of thing). itachi tells naruto to never forget his friends (which i mention bc he immediately thinks of everyone except sasuke (and the sand sibs. rude)) and then destroys shisui's eye bc he can't use it against sasuke anymore. itachi says that he isn't going to talk to sasuke bc last time he tried that he failed (which. does not remotely cover the scope of his fuck-up but all right). finally we hit some actual sasuke in the form of zetsu carnage so he can have some practice with his eyeballs. it only lasts a couple seconds but he seems to be having. some kind of time. 3/10 not enough sasuke too much of the walking bad life choices zone (i'm sorry itachi i promise i really do love you i just can't go five minutes without giving you shit about literally your entire life)

vol 60 - first we see sasuke (and the rest of og team seven) in a commemoration by sato atsuhiro. then we see the boy himself cutting up... rocks i think? idk it looks like rocks. cut to suigetsu and juugo talking about sasuke and karin. there's another (chibi) sasuke in the 5th commemoration by taira kenji, and another sasuke in the 6th commemoration by itakura yuuichi. he gets another mention by kurama and then by yagura, both in reference to the kissing incident. we briefly cut to sasuke standing alone in the rain before he turns and smirks at... presumably nothing? idk. it also definitely wasn't raining before so maybe the rocks he attacked earlier were anti-rain shields or something. cut to karin fangirling over sasuke except plot twist she's actually about to break out of prison. yasss queen weaponize those assumptions. suigetsu and juugo continue to do... whatever they're doing (i can't tell if suigetsu is trying to get sasuke and karin together, thinks they're already together, wants to break them up, or wants to get them together for the purpose of breaking them up). anyway they get in a fight and suigetsu finds [undisclosed information] that he absolutely has to get to sasuke. who, as it turns out, is having some fun playing whack-a-clone with the zetsu gang, one of whom he keeps alive for the purposes of intel before beheading once he's done with his internal monologue about his ongoing divorce with naruto. he thinks about his eyes and also his brother and also his brother's eyes which it turns out are giving him (more) depression. after a brief flashback and madara unveiling his boob tattoo, we cut back to sasuke just as he runs into itachi. 7/10 he's mostly just in the latter half of the volume but he makes good use of his screentime. and who doesn't love disposable clone carnage?

that's all the volumes i have at present. if you read through all of this: why. why would you do that to yourself. do you have better things to do. i don't that's why i'm here. see ya

[badboypoirot]

Recapping my second Book 3 playthrough; spoilers under the cut --

Detective: Oliver "Ollie" Kingston

RO: Morgan

Terrible relationship with Rebecca

Personality: Intimidating, Stoic, Stubborn

Traits: Mind over Heart, Pessimist

Skills: Combat/Physical, By the Book

Book 1 Decisions: Bugged by Bobby, did the blood tests, captured Murphy and got bitten (and mostly successful at burying the trauma)

Book 2: Neither Tina nor Verda learned the truth, saved Sanja, Maa-alused signed the treaty

So the main things I was interested in seeing after my first playthrough was how much the ending could vary, how the Tina/Verda hang out would be, and what it'd be like having Bobby along. And wow! I'm still not over the ending.

(Last chance for spoilers)

The ending ended up wildly different than my first playthrough. Given Ollie's awful relationship with Rebecca (finished the file at a lovely 26%), he insisted on going to the auction by himself. Foolhardy, honestly, but I guess parental resentment beats his logical/cautious slant. So there he is, waiting at the meeting point for his escort, and the scream I let out when BOBBY MARKS showed up ☠️☠️☠️

Up to this point, Ollie had been treating her very disdainfully. I was surprised when she seemed convinced to leave, but of course it's never that simple.

I really liked the scene of Ollie getting put up for auction. I had forgotten that was hinted at in a trailer, and I thought it was heaps more interesting than blending in with the other auctioneers.

Ollie opted to free the prisoners during the ruckus. I actually think he would have chosen to pursue what's-her-face (I still can't remember her name RIP), so I'll admit that was variation-seeking on my part and maybe a touch of guilt making Lucas (my bleeding heart boy) leave them behind. I liked this snippet with Rebecca afterwards:

"I did my best," I say through a breath, walking with her towards the SUVs, where I fall against the nearest one. "I couldn't save them all though. The Trappers had already taken some." Her shoulders rise with a sharp sigh as her features tighten. "You saved more than most of would have in that situation." I frown as I flash my gaze up from the ground to meet hers. "What does that mean?" "I mean that we would have chosen to go after Cessair," she states, stiffening on the spot. "I would have chosen that."

Sin ended up capturing Cessair though he declined to join the Agency. (Can't say I blame him. They don't exactly seem competent.) I think I owe that largely to the "soul bond" discovery for choosing supernatural research, which seems like a HEFTY chonk of lore that I can't imagine won't show up again.

Oh yeah, and Tapeesa instead of Elidor was kidnapped. That honestly broke my heart more than Elidor did.

Probably my favorite, favorite part of the ending though... was dealing with Bobby. Ollie ultimately decided to have her memories wiped. He's a pragmatic man, and he doesn't care too much for her to begin with. But MAAAAAAAAAN if that didn't fire up my cylinders for my other Detectives. I'm imagining an alternate Lucas who loathes Bobby for getting him expelled from college but still has a soft spot for her, especially on an Ava-mance playthrough and where Tina or Verda don't know the truth. He's desperate for someone from outside the supernatural world to know what he's going through. Someone who might make up for all the ways his relationship with Ava is lacking. Ugh! Just ugh!!!

"If you could forget about all of this, have the memory erased... would you?" I ask. Hopefully it's vague enough that she won't realize it's an actual option. She doesn't move for a few moments before finally easing herself up a little to meet my gaze. "I don't know." "You don't?" She heaves out a small laugh. "Part of me thinks that knowing what you do will help... maybe not having that barrier will help you not hate me as much any more."

Speaking of Tina and Vedra -- not much to say except that the scene was really cute. I liked the reprieve it gave the Detective with all he's been going through. It's hard for me to say if I prefer it to dinner with Tina. The lashing she gives Ava was just *chef's kiss*, but god, I still hate Tactical Agent Adrian Stupid-Face. I'm very interested to see the dinner with Verda which I think will be my next playthrough with Detective Robin Greene.

At the end, I'm just impressed with how much variation Mishka has stuffed into this. Perhaps it'll seem less magical after a couple more playthroughs or when the beautiful people of @wayhavenguide dive into the code. (Please check out their Book 1 and Book 2 guides if you're into that! They really put a lot of work into assembling accessible, in-depth guides.) But I'm left just fascinated with how Mishka has written five different romances that can totally stand on its own yet still intersect wonderfully with a customizable MC and the overarching story. I suppose I'm just gushing at this point. I love this series.

[illuminesce]

I am Kimura

When I was a teenager, I was one of those anime fans. Kids nowadays would call it cringe.

I was obsessed with Japan. I watched Japanese anime, played Japanese video games and fancied myself cultured enough to use a Japanese name as my online handle. "In Japanese, it means, Green Eyes, Soul," I remember knowingly telling a friend, who also did not speak Japanese so she acted like I was not, in fact, full of shit.

"Cool," she says.

I look back on those days with embarrassment. I was a lonely kid who lived in a boring suburb trying to make my boring life something worth bragging about. I'm generally against white people using Japanese names, especially if they don't have any connection to the country besides liking anime. Words have meaning and words in a foreign language are especially delicious to affluent white folks, at least ten percent of whom are practicing yoga right now.

"We're going to do a meditation now called 'So Hum,' the yoga instructor kindly explains to me. "It's not English, but don't worry about the meaning—we'll just be using it to center our breath." I immediately start to worry. What if I'm saying "you motherfucker" while saluting to the sun god? I'm not superstitious, but I don't touch Ouija boards. Even if I don't believe in spirits, that doesn't mean they don't exist. People say they don't believe in climate change and it it hasn't prevented the ocean from getting hotter. I spend the rest of class on my phone looking up what so'ham means. Turns out it's a Hindu mantra and thankfully its meaning neither involved mothers nor fucking.

When I was thirty, I moved to Japan for work. Gone was the wide-eyed weeaboo and in its place a person who saw the ugliness of the country I once loved. Of all the developed nations, Japan is ranked 116th behind in both gender equality and LGBTQ+ rights—and it is notorious for its xenophobia, both casual and systemic. Immigration regularly detains non-Japanese people and denies them access to medical care.

My partner Matt and I have hard-to-pronounce last names. It was bad enough in the United States when our names had a twenty percent chance of being properly spelled—but the confusion mixed with the exceptional "can do" attitude of Japanese service folks is a disaster. They would try, unfailingly, to sound out our names as we gave them. Imagine a young woman, ear pressed to the phone while listening to me. My name is in a foreign tongue she has never heard before, but by god she will get it right! She stumbles over it and I respell. After the fifth time I cut her off—for their sanity and mine and leave my name butchered. 

"Yes," I say brightly. "Good job. That's me. I am Mr. Hot Potato." We both sigh a collective sigh of relief and get on with our day.

My partner, Matt, has a last name that is different than mine for the reason that neither of us wanted to go through the trouble of telling our friends—who had only just mastered the spelling of our last names—that they would have to learn new ones. He has a different problem. His last name, although hard to pronounce, is also close to a very common Japanese name—Kimura. Think of it like the English "Mr. Brown." Easy to say, easy to remember.

No matter how much he has tried to use his given name, at the end of the day, he is Mr. Kimura.

"I don't know what to do about this Mr. Kimura thing," I say to him one night at dinner. "We got a package today for a Mr. Kimura. Don't you think it's weird that you're going by a Japanese name?" Matt looks at me with puzzlement. "I don't really see the harm. It's easier for everyone."

"You don't look like a Kimura," I say, implicitly adding, you're not Japanese. He squints at me. "What are you, the world's leading expert on Kimuras?"

I squint back. I think back to my Green Eyes, Soul days, when I was appropriating names to make me sound fancy. "Well, I'm not Mr. Kimura." Matt shrugs. "Okay, you're not Mr. Kimura."

In the following weeks, Matt uses the name Kimura. I hear him making appointments left and right, with ease. No longer does he have to spell his name five times over—he's hanging up the phone within a minute of calling. For me, it takes at least five to muddle through the name part. I become jealous at how easily he moves through Japanese society with his shiny new name and his devil-may-care attitude. So'ham, you motherfucker, I think. If only I could have it that easy. On the weekend, I call a popular bar. It's crowded and I can barely hear the staff over the din. "I'd like to make a reservation."

"What?"

I raise my voice louder. "I'D LIKE TO MAKE A RESERVATION FOR 2 AT 6PM." This already bodes well."

Ok. Name?"

I spell out my name for him. He waits. I hear the din of the crowd for an uncomfortably long time.

"Did you uh, get i—"

He cuts me off. "I didn't get that at all. Can you repeat?" I do so, again, and the same thing happens. "Can you repeat?" When I'm on the third time, I find myself shaking my head, which he's probably also doing. It's not that I'm attached to my last name; I like it well enough, but not enough to fight through multiple spellings. And even if I told him the American name "Smith," it's still not a sure thing that he would spell it right. If having your own name misspelled is embarrassing, it's even more humiliating to have a pseudonym you picked because your name is un-spellable still be spelled wrong.

I sigh. I know why I'm so afraid of becoming Mr. Kimura. I'm afraid of becoming one of those people; people who are cringey or who don't understand cultural context or appropriate other cultures in a way that is embarrassing at best and harmful at worst. I'm worried I'll become the people in my boring suburb, who still use the phrase, "indian giver" unironically, the people that I so desperately wished to distance myself from when I was a teen. Even now, in my thirties, they haunt me. 

Goddamnit, I'm tired.

"You know what?" I say. "I'm Kimura."

A beat.

I lean closer to the phone. "Do you need me to spell it?"

"Oh no, I'm good," he says. We both breathe out a collective sigh of relief. 

"Got you for 2 at 6PM. See you soon, Mr. Himura."

(x-posted from cohost.)

[byeol-ssi]

Hi! Could I request something with Cale Henituse from TCF? I saw you talking about it with an anon so I hope this is okay :) Maybe something along the lines of him pining (and it is obvious to everyone) after and is in love with the reader?

Thank you so much!

worth the trouble

✦ cale henituse x gn!reader | trash of the count's family

✦ tags: pining, quiet love.

"you're staring."

CALE stiffens, tearing his gaze away from you to alberu, who he hadn't noticed now stood next to him — too close for comfort, and with a shit-eating grin that only made him eye the crown prince warily.

"you have the faintest smile whenever you look their way—not the creepy kind you make whenever you come up with something absurd." alberu shudders from the countless memories. "but i've noticed it happens more often than i presume you're aware of."

cale could easily walk away, make some sort of excuse of being needed elsewhere, as it always seemed to be, yet his feet stayed rooted to the ground.

he convinces himself that it's because it's discourteous to turn one's back away from royalty — even if no one would actually bat an eye if he committed such an act, nor does anyone truly expect him, of all people, to observe etiquette — yet, deep down, he knows that wasn't the case.

he's stayed because you were still there, looking as impossibly out of reach for him as always; yet he's learned to be content with wanting you from a distance.

"are you perhaps falling for them?"

feeling a faint ache in his chest from the intrusive question, cale's lips pulled into a slight frown. "with all due respect, your highness, do you not have any urgent affairs that require your utmost attention? the entire kingdom depends on you, and you're here — bothering me."

despite the apparent aggravation in cale's voice, alberu's grin only grows wider. his eyes gleam knowingly, as if he was privy to some secret cale wasn't clued in on.

though, in all honesty, cale could really care less.

"i've made a mistake, allow me to rephrase." alberu shrugs, his tone more mocking than apologetic. "you've finished falling a long time ago."

cale says nothing, however, his sights wander instinctively back to you, which only confirms the crown prince's suspicions.

alberu clasps his shoulder, patting it fondly before he says, "it appears you're already deeply in love."

"you look like you're going to scheme whoever poor soul is on that paper and their next of kin."

CALE looks up at the sound of your voice, unaware that he'd been unconsciously glowering at the neatly signed 'alberu crossman' at the end of the report. coming across the crown prince's name had led him to recall their conversation just a few days ago.

you stand by his doorway, fingers delicately wrapped around a candleholder. you don't enter his quarters right away, and he's always appreciated your quiet respect for his boundaries.

it's late, far too late for him to accept visitors, yet rules never applied to you, or at least, not when it came to him. instead of standing up to offer you a chair, he pulls out the one right next to him — an unspoken invitation.

silence lapses the room when you accept, taking unhurried steps towards him and setting the candle down with care as you take a seat.

it's the first time he's deliberately asked you to sit so near, and even though he appeared calm, behind his unkempt hair and half-closed eyelids, it was almost impossible to imagine the thundering of his heart, akin to roaring drums preparing for the onslaught of war.

you lean over to his side, worry casting upon your features as you look at the assortment of scattered documents on the table and back to him. "when was the last time you slept?"

cale drags a weary hand down his face. "as long as i'm still breathing, then i'm fine."

and he almost laughs. it's ironic. because right now, when you're sat so close enough for him to feel the heat rolling off your body, and as the candlelight bathes you in a soft glow, cale has to remember, remind himself, how to breathe.

cale takes in a deep breath, lungs greedy for oxygen. he's always found himself gasping for air whenever in your presence. and though he was not a poet or valued frivolousness, two words perfectly encapsulated the entirety of your being. of who you were to him.

absolutely breathtaking.

"is something troubling you? is that why you've been throwing yourself into work?" you ask, and a wry smile curls at the edge of your lips — lips he's long wanted to selfishly, and thoughtlessly, take for himself — before you playfully bump your elbow with his. "i must say, this is completely unlike you."

he manages an amused scoff as a retort, gripping the quill sitting neatly in his hands a little tighter, a way to maintain some semblance of composure.

because yes, this was completely unlike him. ever since alberu graciously offered his unwarranted commentary on his feelings, cale had been unable to sleep, think straight, or go a day without seeing something that reminded him of you.

despite the fact that he would never deny his love for you if asked, he likewise wasn't prepared for all the trouble love would bring if he ever admitted to it out loud.

for cale never liked troublesome matters, and he certainly despised pain, and love was a ridiculous combination of both.

still, that mixture was something he couldn't stop taking huge gulps out of. every smile, and every laugh, you sent his way resembled the finest wine bubbling down his chest, undeniably intoxicating.

and if not love, then there was only the prospect of heartbreak — and even the word itself ached with hurt.

no ancient power could shield him from it. no plan would be detailed or infallible enough to guarantee his protection. and no amount of wealth could prepare him for it, nor minimize probable damage.

the rustling of papers snaps him out of his reverie. you'd gathered half of the reports into one neat stack in front of you and straightened out the sides.

cale leans forward, realizing that you'd likely spend the entire night helping him. "you don't have to—" he starts, reaching for them.

you meet his hand halfway, squeezing it twice before you shake your head. "you clearly aren't going to finish anything in your current state, so allow me to share your burden."

and he swallows, aware of the underlying message behind your words and the fact that he'd never be able to resist you.

that he doesn't have to shoulder anything alone.

he slowly turns his hand over, laying it palm-facing up against the cold wood. he does his best to feign nonchalance as he tentatively closes his fingers around your hand resting upon his, resolutely focusing on the documents before him, and avoiding your eye, lest you witness how nervous he was.

he's dying to know, yet terrified to find out where he stands in your heart, or if he even has a place there at all.

the waves of emotion crashing violently in his chest, rivaling the whirlpools that wear down rocky cliffs, are soothed when he feels your own fingers interlacing with his, firmly, bringing calm within his chaos.

you two remain hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, knees grazing one another every so often, working together throughout the entire night. no words at all were needed to be spoken, as the settled stillness between you already spoke volumes.

and when cale awakens the following morning with a terrible stiff neck, and as the honeyed light of daybreak shines down on your similarly hunched-over sleeping form, he smiles, seeing your hand still loosely intertwined with his.

and he decides that as long as it was you, anything would be forever worth the trouble.

even if that troublesome thing was called love.

✦ byeol's notes: aaa, i took so long, but i hope that the lovely nonnie who requested this sees it! ♡ i'm so sorry for the wait, and there's a chance that it's ooc since it's my first time writing for dearest cale. still, i hope you enjoy it, and thank you for making a request.

and to my beloved sea-fairy anon, i decided to join the prompts into this fic since cale is my meow-meow, and you definitely know i'm a sucker for some pining. tysm for giving me so much creative freedom, ily. <3

✦ my requests are open — while reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you so much in advance!

[a-glimpse-of-fantasy]

Moments

This is a work done together with @03patrickstar ^^

Chapter 1 – Never-Ending Night

⚠️Warning: Violence , Blood , Death

⚠️ This story takes after the final episode of Duskwood. So if you haven't finished the game first, this story contains heavy spoilers.

Summary: It has been almost three years since Jake disappeared without a trace. Everyone went back to their normal lives, and so did Faye. She did her best to forget about him, forget her love for him. But it all changes when Jake comes back. How was he suddenly able to come back to her? What secrets was he keeping from her?

***

Another normal, boring day. Faye would go to work and would come back home, entirely exhausted. She took one last look at her phone. Nothing, as usual. Her stomach churned, “Maybe I should just move on,” she muttered to herself.

As if she could.

It's been exactly two years, ten months and thirteen days since Jake disappeared. She was still counting days, contrary to her decision of moving on. Morning passed and noon arrived. She checked her phone habitually, only to be disappointed.

Faye recalled her ex-boyfriend asking every time they fought, "For whom are you so eagerly waiting? You don't have anything to do besides checking your phone every damn minute!" He was a good man. She was a bad woman; his girlfriend who was in love with another man.

She just couldn't help it.

The sense of loneliness that chased her persistently throughout her life, was still after her. Maybe that was the reason she fell so deeply for him. When she learned about Jake's painful past, it wasn't sympathy that ran through her, but empathy.

Always be rational. Don't let useless emotions get in the way. Bewildered of herself, going against her own life motto, Faye clicked her tongue.

She did wait for him, for about one year. Moving on, Faye had several flings, though none could satisfy her. Was that because she had already experienced what love was?

“Love. What a joke. It's not like I really care anyway. Such delusions can't bring me anywhere. If I relied on such foolish thoughts I wouldn't have survived.”

Deceased parents, greedy relatives, hellish life in a rotting orphanage, being chased for insurance money. What a life she lived…

Amidst such sentiments, Faye checked her phone screen in a daze. Again. “I should put an end to this folly.” Scoffing, she noticed a text. Faye halted, her eyes trembling.

An unknown number.

Only one message.

Hello Faye :)

***

Numerous men wearing black suits were everywhere. Faye could see everyone clearly as she was on the top of a hill. Everything was clear, akin to a painting. Though it was night, she could spot every single man, who was hiding here and there. Agents surrounded the entire mine. Hannah and Alan nor Richy were nowhere to be seen. They might have gone already, she thought.

Faye noticed a hooded figure. Crawling through the back of the cave, the man seemed wary. Not making a sound. She looked around in a hurry. The men in black suits were hiding, observing his every move. She wanted to let him know.

The figure would never be able to spot every hiding person. Only thanks to where she stood, Faye could catch every detail. Everything would be useless if she took no advantage. Faye grasped her phone, typing in a hurry. Trembling fingers caused numerous typos she never noticed.

The hooded figure didn't seem to care enough to check his phone at the moment. Her feet were cold, her petite body shaking hard, and fear invaded her deepest parts. Still, Faye was desperate. She jumped on her feet and ran hard. She deliberately let the agents see her, hoping that would distract them. But none of them seemed to notice her. Then that was all good, she chanted, shaking off the uneasiness crawling inside her. Faye was just about to catch the hooded man, calling his name…

'Jake!'

Moments passed.

"..."

Faye was back on the hill, but the scenery was different.

Jake was knocked to his knees, a gun pointing at his ebony hair. She screamed. Nothing came out of her lips. No sound at all.

Faye ran towards the mine again. Just when she was about to reach him, she was dragged to the top once more. Nevertheless, Faye kept running, again and again, and every single time was dragged away by an unknowing force. Faye was back at the top of the hill, again.

Her heart sank. Faye couched down, not caring about the damp, dirty ground.

A gunshot induced chaos in the calm and quiet forest.

Through blurry vision, she jerked her head, back to the scene. She had to watch it. At least she should remember him.

A gentle man with a sad soul.

His name was Jake.

His hair was black.

He would call people by their full names and can be really stubborn at times.

Used outdated emojis.

Would get jealous if Phil talked to her.

He would decide everything one-handed if it concerned her safety. Would be slightly annoyed at her sometimes. Would blush at her flirty words from the other side of the screen.

After hesitating for so long, he finally confessed. Said that he was at her mercy.   

He loved her dearly.

She was loved…was loved immensely.

His love for her was so immense that it was heartbreaking.

She wept, staring at the bloody mess. Her voice rang throughout the quiet forest.

What use did it have now?

She lost him anyway…

A familiar ceiling welcomed her, as the burning eyes opened. Faye raised her stiffened body up and roughly wiped away the teary mess with trembling hands.

Sighing, Faye checked her phone. 3.37 am. What an idle time to wake up from a horrible nightmare…

Checking on the date, Faye counted, still in a daze from the shock. It has been two years, ten months and thirteen days since that day.

But Jake didn't die.

Faye was sure of it.

Jake promised that they won't be separated. And she believed him.

Honestly. How foolish Faye was…

-To be Continued.