#i like to imagine they're coming back from a case in the early morning and they're shyly complimenting each other saying how well they did

[mayhasopinions]

a peaceful walk

[shhhsecretsideblog]

They had been trying for a baby for a while, when finally she was looking at a positive test. Unfortunately, there was only one time it could have happened. A bit too much to drink, a few confessions that she'd sometimes thought about her husbands best friend in some of her more intimate fantasies, and just like that his little secret had taken root in her belly.

She was excited to be a mom, but can't bring herself to tell her husband she's expecting. Hiding her bump as best she can, not letting herself be intimate with him in case he noticed her beautiful changing body, how firm and heavy her belly had gotten. She has a plan. Give birth in secret where he won't find out, and then claim someone left the baby there. "Probably some teenager or something, can't imagine how she could raise it." Of course, since they're struggling to have one of their own, it's all but a sign. Of course they should take it in.

A perfect little plan for the eager mom to get out of her bad choice concequence free.

At least, it would be, if her waters hadn't broken in the shower, and the contractions were starting to get worse and worse, no matter how she tried to pretend otherwise and act like nothing was happening...

Extramarital Consequences

AN: I just wanted to write a short little rp drabble, but instead it comes out as a full scale 3k word fic. Thanks for the prompt MuchBirth, it was a great concept. Hope you like it. [fpreg, tw: vomit, tw: cheating]

“Are you alright in there, babe?” My husband's voice sounded through the bathroom door and I tried to swallow the groan that was sitting in my throat.

Why now, why today?! I had done so well concealing this pregnancy from everyone, thanks to the cold winter and the abundance of thick oversized jumpers and coats. And for the fact I was carrying a rather modest, if heavy, bump. Said bump had dropped in recent days and I had hoped the baby was merely getting prepared and wouldn’t be coming for another week when Daniel would be away on business. The baby, it seemed, had other ideas.

The contractions had started in the early hours and I laid beside my husband quietly breathing through each pain and praying it was just braxton hicks. But they just kept on coming. Every 40 minutes… every 30 minutes… and when they got down to 20 minutes apart I knew I had to move.

Hiding downstairs in the dark, I paced around our living room and kitchen as the contractions got closer together and more and more intense. Why couldn’t it have been a work day?! Daniel would leave the house early and I could labour and birth this baby in secret just as I’d planned. But it was Saturday and we were scheduled to go to a family event that afternoon. The heavy weight of the baby sitting low in my pelvis confirmed there was little-to-no chance of me making it to that party.

I paced around the downstairs of our town house until the early morning with its first glimpse of a rising sun filtering through the windows. Bracing myself against walls, tables, all manner of furniture, I spent hours swaying my hips through each agonising contraction that struck, praying they would eventually stop but they never did. I heard Daniel get out of bed and jump in the shower and I busied myself doing the dishes when he came downstairs. He looked at me curiously, seeing my sweaty and flushed face and asked if I was coming down with something. I assured him I was fine as he made his morning coffee, but soon had to twist back around to face the sink to hide the grimace on my face as another strong contraction barrelled its way through my womb. My hands gripped the counter in a white knuckle grip and it took everything I had not to whimper from the pain.

After assuring Daniel that I was alright, I disappeared quickly back upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I turned on the shower, the tiled room echoing the loud noise of the powerful jets, and allowed myself to groan deeply through the next contraction. They were less than 15 minutes apart and had the ability to steal my breath away. Gripping the sink and panting heavily, my mind began to spiral and panic. How the fuck was I going to keep this from Daniel?! We were struggling to conceive, if his discovered this pregnancy there would be no way I could pass this baby off as his. He would find out I slept with his best friend and my dream of a suburban family life would be destroyed. The baby sank lower in my hips and my knees dipped into a semi-squat from the increase in pressure. We were supposed to go to a party later, with family and friends, and Daniel would be by my side all day. But this baby was coming, soon if the pressure between my legs was any indication.

I stepped into the shower, attempting to ease the pain knifing at my lower back. Cupping my protruding belly I whispered a plea to the baby to stay put a while longer. I loved my pregnant body and was sad not to have shared this experience, to marvel at the incredible changes of pregnancy, with my partner. But there was an alluring excitement in keeping the baby secret - something just known by them and me. I couldn’t wait to meet the life I had been growing.

My thoughts tempted fate and the next contraction was soon upon me and I doubled over in the shower bracing my knees. The pressure between my thighs was building, the steaming hot water doing very little to ease the pain as it crested, my belly turning to stone and pushing everything downward. “Mnghhhhhhh!!” I grunted, involuntary, and almost dropped into a squat as the urgency built. No… baby, not now.

The water at my feet turned a pinkish murky colour and I knew from the release of pressure that my waters had just broken. Fuck.

When the contraction faded and my legs stopped shaking I carefully stepped out of the shower. Okay… my water’s broken but that doesn’t mean I’ve run out of time. I just need to think of a way of getting Daniel out of the house. I could feel the baby shift and kick within my womb, protesting the situation as much as I was, its head pressing eagerly against my cervix. “Hoooo… it’ll be okay little one. I promise— mnnnnhhhh…” Every breath, every word, that slipped past my lips now laced with a pained groan.

“Are you alright in there, babe?” Daniel asked from the other side of our bathroom door. I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed the involuntary noises from escaping.

“Nng— yeah— fine.” I somehow gritted. The weight and pressure pushing down in my pelvis was quickly making me nauseous.

“Are you sure? You weren’t looking too great downstairs.”

Damn him and his caring nature, just move away from the door before I scream! A contraction struck mere minutes after the last and I couldn’t stop the gasp as my belly visibly hardened and contorted inwards. The pressure was mounting, expanding like a balloon about to burst, my pelvis being shoved apart to make space for the large head that was pressing atop my cervix. I couldn’t breathe, the sensations overwhelming my senses, my stomach rolled and my throat gagged. I was going to be sick.

Dropping to my knees, naked on the floor, I hunched over the toilet bowl and promptly vomited the remnants of last night's dinner into the porcelain. My whole torso contracted in on itself in more ways than one and I completely lost all semblance of control. My taut belly, hardened by labour pains, convulsed and I heaved and coughed loudly. The force of throwing up also resulted in my womb squeezing against the bowling ball in my pelvis, bearing down on the already low head and pushing it into the birth canal.

“Oh sweetheart, are you sick?” Daniel asked through the door. “Let me in honey.”

“No, just— give me a minute…” I gruffed, laying my head in the crook of my elbow.

“We don’t have to go today if you’re not well. I can stay here and look after you.”

Hell no, that is the last thing I need. I asked him to get me some water from the kitchen, to buy me some precious time to gather myself. When the sickness passed I hesitantly put a hand between my legs… the baby so low it felt like it was about to fall out at any minute. I had pushed. I didn’t mean to, it was automatic. But still my body had pushed the baby lower towards its exit. Thankfully it was not as low as it felt as I couldn’t feel a head, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. Wrapping myself in a fluffy dressing gown and schooling as neutral a face as I could, I unlocked the door and greeted my husband as he brought me the requested water.

“I don’t think I’m going to go today, I feel like shit.” I said honestly, taking a sip and slowly walking towards our bed, careful not to waddle from the massive head lodged in my pelvis.

“It’s okay babes, we can cancel. I’ll call your parents.” Daniel offered, helping me to sit.

“No—” I said a little too quickly. “You- you can still go. I’ll just take it easy and s-sleep it off…” He looked at me curiously, trying to ascertain just how unwell I was and if I could be left alone. “Really,” I pleaded, “I’ll be fine. Go, have fun.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Really—mmhh…” My hands clenched tight as another contraction was beginning to appear, my fingernails burrowing deep into my palms. “W-why don’t you go e-early… see if they need h-help setting up.” My stomach tensed beneath my fluffy dressing gown and I shifted subtly on the bed as an immeasurable pressure returned with the pain. This baby was not waiting until the afternoon for Daniel to leave for the party, I desperately needed him to go now.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Daniel joked, tucking a frazzled lock of hair behind my ear. “I want to stay and look after you darling, make sure you’re okay.”

“Mnnn… I just need to lie down…” I huffed, trying to keep the strain from my voice. My body was itching to move, to sway and move my hips, to open up for the emerging baby as the contractions worked hard to deliver the child. But I had to fight against the instincts, ignore all the cues in the recess of my brain. Slumping sideways down on the bed, I curled over my contracting belly and arduously moved to lie under the covers. My skin was radiating heat but I couldn’t remove my dressing gown, couldn’t risk exposing a glimpse of my pregnant body. Had to stay covered, had to hide this baby, had to stay sweating beneath the fluffy gown and duvet covers.

Daniel stroked my hair as I curled up and I couldn’t help but scrunch my eyes through the pain barrelling between my hips. Oh baby, wait a bit more… please.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright hun?” Daniel questioned once more and I managed to gruff out an assurance, stating that I’d be fine and just needed to be alone.

Thankfully I felt the bed shift, my husband getting up and leaving the room saying something about calling the family and giving me space to rest. I sighed in relief at the sound of the bedroom door closing.

Lying on my side helped the constant stabbing pain in my lower back but it was doing nothing to prevent the baby from making its way further down. I could feel it pressing against every nerve from the inside, pushing its way through the narrow space. I tried to squeeze my thighs, to clench everything I could to stop its movements but nothing worked. The pressure was constant, sitting heavily and urgently at the apex of my thighs. Rolling forward I buried my face deep in the pillow to muffle the rattled groan that came from the pit of my stomach. The baby was right there, its imminent arrival clear by the agonising pressure consuming me. I tried to fight it, meeting every wave with defiance, but my attempts were failing. I needed to push.

Before I was even aware of what was happening my whole body tensed and bore down with the peak of the contraction. It felt…satisfying, to give in to the urge and push alongside the tensing muscles, to work with my body instead of against it. Gasping a ragged breath, I pushed again, more forcefully this time. It was moving, inching closer towards my folds. Without thinking I grabbed my leg, still wrapped under the layers of clothing and duvet, and I pulled it towards me so my thigh was beside my contracting belly. I had to make more room, I needed to open myself up for the emerging babe. The back of my knee was damp from sweat and I gripped it tight, opening my hip beneath the covers, and gritting my teeth I pushed again.

It was coming, I could feel it! The contraction soon ended and I let my leg fall back against the other, curled up sideways on the bed and panting frantic breaths. A knock on the bedroom door brought me out of my birthing bubble, suddenly remembering Daniel was still in the house. Oh fuck, what if he heard me pushing?!

“Honey..? Can I come in?” His tentative voice asked and opened the door a crack. I groaned, neither an acceptance or refusal, but it was all I could manage.

Daniel stepped in our bedroom softly. “I’ve spoken with your parents and I’m going to head over there early and help them set up. I know you like to be alone when you’re unwell.” I nearly cried with relief.

“But I’ll come back to check on you before the party starts, okay?” Daniel perched on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers through my sweaty hair. I nodded and exhaled heavily, hoping it looked like I was just fighting nausea and nothing more. “I’ll get you a bucket, just in case.” Daniel said sweetly and disappeared into our en-suite bathroom.

The contractions were right on top of each other now, the baby was sitting right between my legs desperate to get out. The next wave hit when Daniel was out of sight and I panted as quietly as I could. Don’t push… don’t push… don’t push… I thought over and over again. Curled up on my side my legs drifted apart, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight down the length of the bed. The pressure was slowly killing me; the strain of holding everything in, the baby slipping lower, pressing gently against my labia despite my efforts. Fuck I needed to push, but I daren’t. Daniel was still here…. Breathe… don’t push… breathe… don’t push… Even with the mantra my body did not adhere to the instructions. At the end of each measured breath I could feel my muscles bearing down and pushing the baby, its head starting to part my sensitive lips.

Daniel came back into the room and placed a bucket beside the bed, right next to the pillow where my face was half buried. “How you holding up?” He asked affectionately. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, every ounce of strength going into not actively pushing. Instead I closed my eyes and tilted my face further into the pillow.

In the faint background of my personal hell I could hear my husband slowly pottering around our bedroom as he got himself dressed and ready to leave for the party. Every minute dragged on for hours, as he found his trousers and shirt, muttering to himself, all the while I wanted to scream and howl and push! The baby was parting my folds, its head surely poking out between my thighs. Tears dampened the pillow and I was trembling, trying desperately hard not to push. But even without my participation, the baby was slowly making its way into the world. I nervously lowered one of my hands beneath the heavy covers, feeling between my legs. Oh my gosh… that’s my baby I thought as I felt the slimy surface of the partial sliver of its head. It was moving down, every contraction squeezing it further out of my body. My palm clamped hard over the emerging head… don’t… don’t pushhhhhh… a weak groan rumbled my throat as my body uncontrollably pushed, hard.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked.

I was far from okay, I was pushing his best friend's baby into my own palm for fucks sake. In between pushes, I gulped a breath and offered a short and snappy “uh-huh” before my body was forced to bear down once more. My hand remained steadfast in its position between my legs and thankfully the baby didn’t slip out any further. Once the contraction eased I panted a relieved sigh.

“I’m heading out now babes.” Daniel stated aloud. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I love you.”

“Ngghh— love you too—” my rasped voice came from under the covers. I was in too much pain to notice the guilt that twisted in my chest.

I remained frozen in the bed, my ears listening desperately for the sound of the front door to close and his car to start. The roar of the engine, the glorious sound, slipped through the vents in the bedroom window and I sobbed with relief. He was gone!!

Immediately I threw the covers off my sweaty skin and tore myself out the tangled mess of my dressing gown. The baby was partially crowning and my gods I needed to push. Everything hurt, everything ached, I needed to move but there was no strength left in my body to get up. Hooking a leg over the edge of the mattress I rolled off the bed and slipped down to my knees on the luscious carpet.

With my elbows on the mattress and my face buried against the sheets, my knees widened on the floor and my hips sank downwards as I pushed with everything that I had. Burning fiery pressure erupted between my thighs and I growled through the excruciating pain, pushing and pushing and pushing. I couldn’t take it anymore, this baby had to get out. My entire body trembled as the baby stretched me open, but I kept going push after push and with a primal grunt the head finally slipped out. Relief flooded through me as the pressure eased. Panting, desperate for air, I was barely aware of any of my other senses; of the now-damp carpet under my knees, or the sound of the engine returning to our driveway, or the creek of the bedroom door being opened.

“Honey?… I errr… I forgot my phone and then I heard you scream. What’s… what’s going on?” Daniel asked, frozen in shock at the door.

“…um… I erm…” I stuttered, speechless and naked beside the bed, an illegitimate baby hanging between my legs. “I umm…I— I— ohhhh… oh I need to push….!!!” Before I could think of an explanation my body was bearing down once more, birthing my husband’s best friend’s baby right beside our marital bed.

[ssahotchnerr]

Aaron coming back from long cases with a bouquet for you and little girl Hotchner 😭🖤 her bouquet may just be a few stems from yours but it means the world to you. He won’t hand you the bouquet the way he buys it either, he’ll trim the stems and put it in a vase!!!

unconditional

omg stop 😭 i can't get enough of girl dad!aaron i just can't cw; fluff <3

when you wake up, aaron's fast asleep next to you.

the prior night when you went to bed, you were alone - just as you have been for the past, almost two weeks. a case has kept your aaron away from you and time since then has gone achingly slow - almost painful.

he looks adorable, with his face smushed into his pillow, his thick hair disheveled and the comforter pulled all the up to his chin. although you have the desperate urge to throw your arms around him for being gone for far too long, you let him sleep. he needs it; it seems as if he never nearly gets enough, and from his heavy sleep-tainted breaths, you can only imagine how exhausted he must've felt before succumbing to. after pressing the gentlest of kisses to his forehead, you quietly slide out of bed.

you first peek your head into jack's room, checking on him. it's early, and as you figured, he's still off in dreamland. since it happens to be saturday - no school and no morning soccer practice this week - like his father, you let him sleep.

when you peer into your daughter's room next, she's awake, standing up in her crib and her hands holding onto the rail. she grins at the sight of you, letting out a small squeal in excitement. with a smile on your face, you shush her as you approach, her pitch high enough to wake up the boys if continued.

when you finally trail into the kitchen, with baby girl hoisted on your hip and set on getting her breakfast started, you fall short in your tracks, your heart immediately warming at what you find.

on the counter, there's a bouquet of the prettiest flowers you swear you've ever seen. they're even extremely similar to the flowers you held on your wedding day, walking down the aisle towards aaron. it's a memory you'll never forget, and wish you could relive over and over again - aaron smiling from ear to ear, teary-eyed, looking as handsome as ever in a tuxedo. luckily, that's what photos are for.

besides it, is a smaller, glass cup. it's filled with a few flowers from your bunch; the matching display is only a bit smaller, notably for your daughter. aaron even took the extra time to trim them before he went to bed, so they're not towering out, or is the weight of gravity pulling the petals down towards the surface of the counter.

and for jack, who wouldn't be as thrilled receiving flowers, there's a mini lego set - a small car to be put together.

the sweet gesture causes a swirl of emotions within you - aaron, as exhausted as he was and despite how late he returned, still took the time to show his unconditional love for you, and for both children.

you couldn't picture a more perfect start to the weekend, or a more perfect life.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

DILF!Aemond Targaryern, DILF!Aegon ii Targaryen x Reader (Separate) // HEADCANONS/DRABBLE.

WARNINGS: slight smut, mdni, afab!reader, age gap, breeding kink (aemond), p in v sex (aemond), unprotected sex (aemond), cunnilingus (aegon), oral f receiving (aegon), + not proof read.

(this is technically not a full blown hcs but neither is it a full drabble, so that's why I added both in the title)

WC: 1.3k total (aemond + aegon parts)

Aemond Targaryen !!

You knew that you definitely needed an older guy after your immature and toxic break up with the guy around your age, who treated you with almost no value.

But what you didn't expect was to catch the eye of your dad's boss during an event you had attended with him, he was in his early thirties with 2 children with his former divorced wife, Floris Baratheon.

Your relationship began quite formally at first, with him being a complete gentleman, asking you about your educational background, what job you were doing and he had asked for your number ‘just in case’ you need a job if you lose the current one, it felt more like a job offer than a normal conversation.

Until he began to text you good mornings, ask you about your day — at first he would do just that, and leave a smiley emoji after your response, but as time passed on, and you felt more comfortable around each other, he began to share a few personal things.

He had opened up about his divorce with his wife, how it affected him and the kids, — oh the kids, he would share pictures of them when he would be the one spending time with him, he had told you that he was fighting for full custody since Floris was basically neglecting them when they're spending time with her, and you wished him luck.

Soon you both begin to meet up, go on dates, he was stoic, with no expression on his face so it was hard to read through him, but eventually you'd learn to decipher his micro expressions.

You couldn't ignore the way he made you feel anymore, and you made it official, your dad was shocked and angry thinking Aemond had abused his power to get to you but once you explained everything, he calmed down.

You moved out of your apartment into his house, he had given you heads up about the kids that they're hard to handle and dont welcome strangers that easily, but you had told him that you'll manage everything.

And eventually you got along with the kids, and everything in life seemed to be moving fast from there onwards, Aemond got full custody of the kids after proving the neglect they were facing from the mother's side. Which you congratulate him about.

He would often stare at you when you'd play with the kids, he couldn't help but have the thought of your stomach swollen with his child, he'd eventually confess to you about it during your intimate moments.

“Oh fuck— yes right there!” You throw your head back against the pillows as Aemond thrusts into at full force, his desperate hands grabbing any flesh he could find, giving it a tight squeeze. You moaned as you peaked, as his tip repeatedly hit your sweet spot.

“I'm coming.” He grunts, “Jeez— I want to finish inside you so bad, watch you grow round with my child– fuck— I can only imagine the sight.” His words made you feel warm on the inside, and when he went to pull out, you locked your legs around his waist, to which he was surprised by, “Do it inside me then.” You say seductively and he immediately begins to thrust rapidly, he finishes inside you with a moan, painting your walls white before he pulls out, watching intently as his seed drips out of your cunt.

“Mhm, I think Aerys and Rhaegal would love to have a little sister.” He says as he plops down next to you, pulling you into his arms, “I think they would.” You reaffirm, rubbing your thighs together, feeling even more turned on as his seed sticks to your thighs.

“We should definitely make sure it takes.” You tell him, implying at a second round and he smirks knowingly.

Aegon ii Targaryen !!

You met him in a club you went to when you tried to destress because of your exams. He immediately took a liking to you, at first you had guessed that he'd be around your age, so imagine your surprise when you found out that he was in his mid thirties.

He laughed when you told him about it, he was extremely outgoing, in fact, too outgoing and so much of an extrovert.

You both immediately clicked, enjoying each other's company and finally exchanged numbers. He had drunk too much and eventually overshared everything about how his wife passed away in childbirth, leaving him with a child who he is working hard to raise.

“I try my best to raise him, but it gets too tiring. You know, I had hired a nanny, but I wish I could just quit my job and spend more time with him.” He shares, “Where do you work?” You ask curiously, “Hightower Co.” and your eyes widen at that, “Isn't that a really difficult place to get into? Their employee selection rate is super low, and I heard their manager is quite picky.” you shrug and he chuckles, “Well I guess I am indeed picky sometimes.”

“what.”

You apologised immediately after feeling embarrassed, he had revealed that his grandfather owns the company and basically wants his family members to run and manage it, though it screams nepotism, most of the hightowers and their extended family are extremely good at their ages, there were only a few select non-family members that were able to make to a non-basic worker status.

Things ended awkwardly after that, but nonetheless, you both communicated with each other from time to time, he would send you cute pictures and videos of himself and his son doing random stuff, or just bonding which warmed your heart.

After a month of talking, you both decide to get into a relationship, you knew it was quick, but you couldn't help it when you got along so well, he would often bring his child on the dates with you, which you didn't mind, but rather had more fun cause this would allow you to go non-romantic dates which are rather comforting.

If there was one thing which you didn't expect of Aegon ; was his sexual appetite, which he had a lot of, you were surprised by how much stamina he has, and how he's willing to go more than 3 rounds at a time, it sometimes exhausted you because you'd be too overstimulated to even continue.

You still remember how he had fingered you whilst at the family dinner under the table while maintaining a conversation with his grandfather, you tried so hard to not make a noise. He eventually finished what he started in his bedroom.

His favourite thing to do is eat you out, he loves the expressions and noises you make and how messy it would be afterwards.

“Aegon— ahh— hmm pls–” You blabber out incoherent noises whilst you grip his hair, pushing his face further into your cunt which he takes in obediently, lapping his tongue up and down and suckling on your clit as if his life depended on it.

The whimpers and noises you let out only motivated him further to continue his ministrations, he dipped down further while his tongue pushes past the folds of your cunt before entering it, the angle caused his nose to be pressed into your clit, nudging against it while Aegon greedily ate you out.

He pushed his tongue in and out before he licked a long strip up to your clit and once again, latched himself onto it, you moaned when you felt his teeth slightly graze against it.

He sucked on your clit which caused you to peak while holding his face tightly against your cunt, your vision went white at the intensity of the orgasm and your body trembled as you calmed down.

Yet Aegon did not stop, you pulled his hair in an effort to pull away, but he grabbed your hand and held it away while he continued to devour you, you whimpered as the overstimulation hit you, trying to wriggle away from his face yet he still didn't budge and continued sucking, nibbling and biting your clit.

After all, he had no intentions of stopping until you were a mess.

[echantedtoon]

Summon Not For Fun Ch2 He's A Killer

(Imagine what demon Killer looks like is above. Art not mine found on Pinterest. Edit: Someone was kind enough to give me the artists name so credits to maodaobuchiyu1 on Twitter.)

Tagging: @the-ginger-draws

If you to be added to the taglist lemme know

Ever had a case of deja vu that was so powerful you could've sworn it was a dream? Well she was having that all day today, the day before had left her with a bad taste of party games now and hoped she didn't have to use one ever again, but that could be saved for later. Tomorrow she didn't know what exactly she was going to do, but one thing was for sure the house needed to be dusted and taken care of. Maybe she could find her ring that way. The night had been proof of that when she kept sneezing from the amount of dust covering everything, so when she got up she was feeling a little(lot) groggy the next morning and something got her up. The wonderful smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the air and so she sleepily got up and she stretched with a yawn and blinked. ...Smacking her lips and throwing the blankets off of her, throwing the blankets off and standing up. She coughed a few times from the dust and began walking to the door. The stairs creaked under her when she walked down the steps and descended to the living room. Still coughing lightly and blinking tiredly, stomach rumbling towards the delicious smell from the kitchen. 

Once she got into said kitchen, it was completely emptied of life besides her but somehow there was a plate of eggs and bacon perfectly cooked with a glass of orange juice by it. Hungry and still not thinking clearly from sleep, she sat down in the chair, grabbed the fork, and began to chow down on the food provided to her by out of thin air all of a sudden. It wasn't until she was halfway through it did she stop...and gulped down the food in her mouth before blinking at what was left..WHERE DID THIS COME FROM?! 

She took a moment to look towards the sink where a small pile of dishes used to cook the food was...before she stared back straight ahead and blinked...Her hand pointing to the sink and the food and back again as she stared...And she shrugged. She must've been so tired she mustn't have notice her cook the food and forgotten about it. Happened to everyone. Some people forget their house keys so early in the morning because they were tired, she must've gone blank with her mind still mush from being so early in the morning. Or more likely one of your friends had cooked breakfast for everyone. Perfectly logical. So she shrugged it off and finished eating the breakfast she forgot she made for herself and placed the dishes in the sink and made a mental note to come back and clean later right now she had a mission to do.

"Hey, Y/n." Your friends had long since gotten up before you and were ready to go home. Things all packed up and everything. "Find your ring?"

You shook your head. "No. But I'm gonna deep clean the house today anyways because of the dust so it should turn up."

"Ah. Well I'm sure it'll turn up. Oh by the way, thanks for breakfast! It was delicious!"

You blinked. "Wait..You guys didn't cook that?"

The three women looked at each other. "Uh...No? I thought you got up early to cook something before going back to sleep."

"I-..No. Well maybe I did but I forgot?.. Nevermind. See you guys at school Monday."

That was weird..but you shrugged it off. They're probably messing with you or you did forget. No big deal. Now you still had a mission. 

 And that mission was detoxifying all the dust and dirt from the house to stop all this coughing. If this her home after all, she was going to make sure it was actually livable. The cleaning supplies she needed was found under the sink and in the kitchen closet, and got to work on the first room mist important obviously. Her old bedroom, giving it an sort of make over. Rearranging the few things in there like the trinkets and books on the shelf after wiping it with one of the tissues and removing the old sheets off the bed. Your ring wasn't under the bed or on the shelf. The old childhood pictures remained though. Even when you swept and mopped up the symbols from last night's game on the floor, you couldn't find it. Not even under your desk or in your bathroom. Where on earth did it go? Maybe one of your friends accidentally kicked it out of your bedroom? You'd look around as you cleaned up the house. 

IT'S GOTTA BE AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE!!

 Remember the deju vu part mentioned? Well she went back down to the kitchen after a while to get herself some lunch- But stopped when she saw it. The kitchen. WAS. CLEAN. And not just clean. It looked as if she spent the whole day mopping the floors and wiping down all the dusty counters, and even the dishes from the sink were gone. She stood there for the longest moment..before going to the cabinets and opening them all looking in. YEP! She found the pan and the dishes she used cleaned and put away in the cabinets. She had to take a step back and think for a long moment. Before coming to the totally logical conclusion that she also must've cleaned the kitchen when she was half asleep that morning and because of all the stress from loosing the family heirloom and work she did on her bedroom, she simply must've forgotten about that too. Silly her. She should really start remembering things better and not get so distracted.

When she went to the fridge and pulled it open, she was surprised to find it stocked to THE BRIM with fresh foods and blinked again...You must've forgotten about how many groceries you bought yesterday and gotten more than you remembered. Oh well. Just meant food for her for a good long while. You rummaged around raising a brow at the objects you couldn't remember buying at all not noticing the eyes blinking from the doorway or hearing the quiet chuckle before the fella turned around and scurried of in a blur. But she didn't notice the blur, just the sound of something scurrying away when she whipped her head around...And scowled.

"Great. Mice. Just perfect," she grumbled to herself before going back to the food.

She definitely had no clue who was really behind all this did she? Oh well, she'll find out soon enough anyways. For now be was enjoying the confusion on her face and helping behind the scenes for now. It's been too long since he was able to have fun. Let's see how long it took his little lady friend to notice his little shenanigans shall we?~ The next few were pretty easy, she was doing something human's called 'spring cleaning' which seemed to be a culture celebration of spring by cleaning your houses he guessed. More human things. But this worked all the better. With just a snap of his fingers all the dust turned into the shapes of bunnies, 'dust bunnies', and hoped out the window he opened while his human was busy on her hands and knees scrubbing the floors and cleaning the dust covered shelves. He'd silently wait somewhere she couldn't see him and just find amusement at her totally confused face when she'd walk into the next room and discover it completely clean and free of dust. Looking at it for a moment before shrugging it off and moving on to the still dirty room next to the one he'd clean, brushing it off as her cleaning one room and completely forgetting which rooms she had cleaned. OH!! The irony was too good. 

After a moment she stood there staring at another room she couldn't remember cleaning. She stood in the doorway to that particular room for what seemed like forever before she sighed and turned away dragging the vacuum with her.

"I-I'll just...c-come back to this one."

He tilted his head curiously to her reaction as she silently disappeared down the stairs before looking at the next room. Hopping down from his hiding space behind the flower pot and staring into the cold room silently. ...He smiled and snapped his fingers. The same thing with all the rooms he'd done before happened. The window opened and all the dust within the room magically began coming together and clumping into little dust bunnies. Said bunnies then began to magically hop to the window and out. Loosing their shape as they fell down to the ground below. At the same time she was vacuuming the guest bedroom downstairs which she used to use as her 'meditating room'. Her old mat was still there and she would sit there for hours just relaxing and meditating. 

Funny. She never had anything else in the room ever other than her meditating mat and the giant full length mirror that stood in the middle of the room. It looked clean despite the dust flying around it, but she shrugged it off again. What she did catch however was the sudden grey blurs going back the window. At first she thought it was just a bird or leaf, but when more fell she looked to it and jumped slightly when a giant clump of what looked like dust fell past it and too the ground. What the- 

The lady turned off the machine and went over to the window and looked down at the ground, before flinching as another dust cloud floated down past her. Where were those coming from? Was the wind blowing dirt off the roof? That's a logical answer. Until she heard a slam of window shutter from upstairs making her jump and look up at the ceiling. That sound had come from right above her. Her upstairs guestroom! She quickly went to the stairs and began climbing them up towards the bedroom she left open. The stairs creaking under her. The man's head snapped to the door and the approaching footsteps and smiled invisibly just as eyes poked in to see what all the noise was about. You completely froze at the clean room and open window presented in front of her. 

Ok! She new for a FACT that she did NOT even go in this room let alone clean and open the window. She slowly walked her way over to the open window and looked out. She didn't see anything but the yard and silent neighborhood  and she certainly didn't see the invisible blue eyes. Until she slowly closed the window and turned around staring..shaking her head before walking away from the room and closing the door behind her. The man chuckled at the situation. The spike of adrenaline from almost getting caught exciting. OH THIS WAS GONNA BE FUN!!

She was on edge for the rest of that day. Looking over her shoulder every so while and peeking into rooms. But she didn't get anymore surprises for the rest of the day so she began to relax. Grabbing another sandwich from the fridge for dinner and making her way back to the bedroom exhausted. She'd been having a whole thing forgetting and cleaning everything and she was all tired and all she wanted to do was just lay back in bed and sleep the night away. Maybe she should sleep in tomorrow and get extra sleep? Might help her memory if she wasn't sleepy. You were also still disappointed that you couldn't find your great grandfather's engagement ring. You'd call your friends up later and ask them to check their bags. Maybe it somehow got in there?

On her way to the stairs she passed the meditating room and something was sitting on the mat, it waved at her passing bye and not paying attention she waved bac-...You froze. Before backtracking and looking back into the empty room. She shook her head and went back to heading to bed. Yeah she was really tired. She didn't see the ripples in the mirror as she climbed the stairs and was soon in the soft bed.

The next day was...normal. She didn't know how long she slept but from the amount of sunlight but she guessed it must've been around nine or ten o'clock. She felt better than yesterday and instead of immediately heading downstairs like last time, she decided to hop into the shower for a quick ten minutes. The warm shower helped her greatly to wake up and when she walked downstairs it was like all the sleep melted away and left her fresh, she wasn't even feeling that hungry this morning. So when she walked by the kitchen, she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until someone spoke.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Good morning," She greeted as she walked by.

...

......

...........?!

Wait.... WHAT?!

You slowly backtracked and poked her head into the kitchen. A tall muscular man. Stood with his back towards her. Long mane of blonde hair cascaded down from his head as a long whip like tail swung back and forth from the base of his spine. An apron silly too small was tied around his torso as he just hummed along and ran a cloth along the stovetop seemingly cleaning it. From the wild mess of blonde locks protruded two pointed dark purple horns.

He pointed it at a cabinet and it opened, out floated a fork before it reclosed and she shook her head and blinked at the sight as the fork was directed to the table and set down onto the table where a small plate of pancakes and a glass of milk was waiting. Finally the figure snapped his head around to her and she froze at the gigantic fanged smile across his face and he chuckled at her expression.....Until her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she tumbled to the ground-

....."Uh..." What happened? She could feel a throb to her head and her body lay on something soft. It felt like she hit her head against the head against the wall above her and knocked herself back to sleep. God. Did she really move around that much in her sleep? With a groan she sat up and reached a hand up to rub her sore face as she did so. "Crap. That hurt."

"Are you feeling better?~" Her eyes bulged open like those funny googly eye stickers kids buy at the supermarket and she wiped to the back of the couch she was laying on and saw the same blonde man from before. Two blue eyes with slit pupils blinked from under fluffy blonde bangs. "How is your he-" He didn't get to finish when she screamed and fell off the couch with a loud thud. He blinked and cringed away, with ears pinning back to his head and hissing as her scream hurt his hearing. He watched as she scurried away across the floor before standing up and staring dead at him. "....You know it's quite rude to scream at someone who helped you."

"WHO ARE YOU?!...W-WHAT ARE YOU!?," she screamed panicking at this...this...PERSON!! "HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE?!"

At this he blinked but stayed where he stood behind the sofa. "I'm the demon you asked for."

"D-DEMON?!"

"In the flesh!" 

"Who-...What-..HOW?!" She glanced over at nothing and her hands reached her hands up to grab her head, "Ok. This is a dream. This HAS to be a dream."

"'Fraid not! If it was, you would've woken on your bed instead of the couch."

"...T-Then I'm hallucinating!! That's it!" She smiled finding a perfectly logical answer. "I-It's all the stress making me crack under the pressure and Im have a nervous breakdown! O-Or the fumes from the cleaning supplies are making my brain give hallucinations like a bad dream!"

He rolled his eyes and reached out to her. "Y/n." She looked at him and froze when his hand pressed to her forehead. "If I was a projection of your mind, I wouldn't be able to touch you and you wouldn't feel me would you? Think about it. If you fainted in the hallway how could've you woken up on the couch if I wasn't real enough to put you there?"

She was just staring there for the longest time before sucking in a breath and going to sit back down on the couch. Facing him and staring at him. They stared at each other for a few moments before she let out a breath. "Ok. ...You're real."

"Obviously. I always have been."

"Ok...Then. W-Why are you here?" He blinked as if confused. "I-I-I mean what do you want? There's nothing here you can possibly want! I'm not like rich or anything!" She asked her mind spinning with any kind of answers her logical brain were still working on for an anwer.

His head tilted further confused. "I'm here because we're married?" He motioned between you both like it was obvious. "That's what spouses do. They live together."

"WHAT?! What gave you that idea?!"

"When you summoned me two nights ago and proposed. I liked how you presented yourself and I accepted."  As if to add salt to your already shocked face, his hand extended towards you. Upon his dark purple claws was a single glitter of gold that made you balk in realization.

"My great grandfather's engagement ring! You stole it!"

"I didn't steal if it was presented to me."

"IT WAS A JOKE!!," you shouted at him, "WE WERE ALL JUST KIDDING AROUND!! I DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE ACTUALLY REAL!!"

"Black magic isn't something to be messed with especially by mortals who treat summoning ancient beings like me like a game!," he stared both firmly and angrily. "You're lucky it was me you accidentally summoned up instead of someone like Kaido or Hawkins!"

"W-Who are they?"

"Demons you should never summon. Now back on topic, I see I'm gonna have to teach you some things to make you aware."

"Aren't you at least going to give me back the ring?"

"No. It's mine now. Like it or not you made a deal with me and I accepted it, and it's one of the most unbreakable deals to do with demon kind. A marriage contract. You see for security reasons we mate for life unless our partners ok and outside affair or one of us dies but..Barely anything can kill us really."

You sat there with a sick feeling in your guts. Your hands clutching your head. "This can't be happening. This can NOT be happening."

"Well you better believe it." Raising a hand he made a come here motion and the plate of food and fork from the kitchen floated into the room and into his grip. You blinked as he leaned over to set both down on your lap. "Here. You better eat up. I can tell we're going to be here for a while."

"I-..." You looked back to him. "You've been the one cleaning up and making food appear?"

He nodded. "Yep. A husband is supposed to provide for his mate after all."

"I don't even know you're name."

"It's Killer."

Your brow rose. "Your name is Killer?"

"Actually my full name is Massacre Killer Soldier, but it's easier for everyone to just call me Killer."

"Your parents were sure creative."

That got him to huff a chuckle and smile. "I suppose so. Now eat up. You'll need the energy."

[himasgod]

Thoma x Reader

Where you give him a box of Mondstadt candy and you clean the snow together

(THOMA I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, we're already in December, so I had a very, very urgent need to write something related to the weather. It's very cold but I love the snow and I love Thoma, so let's get it together.)

Snow fell softly over Inazuma, covering the Yashiro Commission grounds in a white blanket. You had arrived early that morning, carrying a small box of Mondstadt sweets you had prepared as thanks for your boyfriend Thoma's help the week before. He was always there when you needed him, solving any problem with a smile as warm as the fire of his Vision.

However, when you reached the entrance, you noticed that the air was colder than usual, and the guards mentioned that Thoma was in the gardens.

"He's clearing the snow off the paths again. We already told him we could take care of it, but you know how Thoma is," they chuckled.

You sighed and adjusted your cloak before walking into the gardens. You found him just as you imagined: with his duster in one hand and a makeshift broom in the other, sweeping away the snow while humming a cheerful tune. Despite the cold, his face was lit up with a smile, as if the task was nothing more than a simple walk on the beach.

“Don’t you think this is a bit much, Thoma?” you called out, crossing your arms as you watched him.

He turned to you, surprised, but his expression softened at the sight of you.

“Oh, love! I didn’t expect you so early. What are you doing here in this cold?”

“I was coming to see you, but it seems you’re busy playing Mondstadt knight in the middle of a storm.”

Thoma laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, someone has to make sure these paths are clear for Miss Ayaka and the others. Plus, it helps me stay warm.”

You sighed and walked over to him, placing the box of candy on a nearby bench.

“At least take a break. I brought you something that might help you warm up.”

His eyes lit up at the sight of the box.

“From Mondstadt? Did you make them yourself?”

You nodded, a slight smile appearing on your face at the sight of him looking so excited.

"I thought you might like a little piece of home in this cold winter."

He opened the box carefully, as if it were a treasure, and took one of the sweets, tasting it immediately. The satisfaction on his face was evident.

"They're delicious, just like everything you make. Thank you, darling. You always think of others."

"I could say the same about you," you replied, moving a little closer. "But, Thoma, you should think of yourself too. You don't have to do everything alone. Let me help you."

For a moment, his smile faded, and his golden-green eyes locked onto yours with an intensity you hadn't expected.

"You know, sometimes I worry that I'm so busy taking care of others that I forget how important it is to have time for you, my love..."

The warmth in his voice and gaze left you speechless. Before you could respond, Thoma reached out a hand to you, gently brushing a snowflake from your hair.

“What do you say we finish this path together and then warm up with a cup of tea? I promise not to make you work too hard,” he teased, but his tone was still gentle, almost affectionate.

Smiling, you took the broom he offered you.

“Okay, but only because you owe me a second round of those sweets.”

“Deal,” he replied with a laugh.

And so, with the snow falling around them and their laughter filling the air, you felt any coldness fall into oblivion as you shared that small moment with Thoma,

a man whose warmth was capable of melting even the coldest winter.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[unhingedoveractivemuse]

Title: "I've got you."

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Tags: Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Notes: Flufftober Extra "I've got you."

========================================

The thing about Evan “Buck” Buckley is that he���s tactile. Anyone could tell you that. The more the omega likes someone, the more inclined he is to touch them in some way or form. A hand on the shoulder, fingers brushing when handing over something, a squeeze on the forearm. 

And when he’s in love?

Eddie is lucky enough to find out. 

Hand-holding is the least of it. It’s kisses, soft caresses, hugs, cuddles, nuzzles, grooming, etc. 

And they aren’t even mated yet. He can’t imagine the omega being less tactile when they’ve been bonded in all ways. 

Especially if this is the height of Buck’s need to touch people. 

His and his alpha’s chosen is entirely pressed against him, unyielding arms wrapped around Eddie and nuzzling into his neck where a mating bite will go.

It’s too early for that, though, with Buck only being in preheat. This is a time for comfort and preparation for the days ahead.

Fortunately for him, he had had the foresight to start preparing the day he and Buck decided that a year of courting and dating was enough and that they would mate during Buck’s next cycle. Normally, he probably wouldn't have started preparing so early, but the pandemic changed everything. 

Without a pandemic at their doorsteps, he would have gotten Buck to move in with him already and they would be mating at home. He would have left Christopher on an extended sleepover with the Wilsons, and he would have made one shopping trip without having to worry about finding everything he needed. 

Alas, that wasn't the case, so he had been very careful about making sure the shirts he was providing for Buck's nest were never in contact with dirty clothes. He had to go on several shopping trips (because curse the shortage of everything right now) to stock up on dry food and water. It had taken him until the last minute to find and buy a mini fridge. He also made sure to air out Hen and Chim's scent from the loft starting a week ago because they'd been living here for weeks, making the scent harder to get out. 

(Granted, it was because of the pandemic that they decided to take the next step in their relationship. They're seeing too much death to not consider how much time they're wasting. It doesn't mean Eddie is thankful for it though. Not. At. All.)

Regardless of whether the world is in chaos right now or not, though, he wasn't prepared for this. 

“Love, I've got to bring some more food up,” he coaxes, hoping the koala in disguise will let go long enough for him to make sure they won't starve to death later. He had some food up here already, but there were some grapes and Gatorade he had placed in the big fridge that morning that he hadn't brought up yet. 

Buck whines, a sad little noise that almost has Eddie relenting. 

Almost. 

“Buck,” he tries again. 

He can feel the reluctance exuding off his mate-to-be when the arms unlatch, leaving Eddie free to get up. 

“I'll be right back.”

Eddie makes haste, quickly going downstairs and grabbing everything he needs before hauling it all upstairs, not wanting to leave Buck waiting long. 

He shoves the grapes and Gatorade into the mini fridge where some cold, protein-and-nutrient-packed rolls are already in, courtesy of Bobby. Then, he turns to the bed and nest where Buck is looking at him miserably from. 

“Hey,” he says gently, running a hand through blonde curls.”I was only gone for a minute.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I know I'm a lot.”

Eddie hushes him. “You’re not. I want nothing less than everything, okay?” Then an idea comes to mind. “How about you shift?”

Buck looks at him a little dubiously.

“Only for your preheat. It'll feel better.”

Sighing, Buck gets up just enough to shimmy out of his sweats and boxers, and Eddie only has a moment to appreciate the sight before his skin becomes fur. 

And what a sight it is to see Buck shift despite the year and a half it's been since he's first seen it, especially now that Buck has someone to groom him.

He remembers the first time he saw Buck's wolf. It was beautiful, of course, but it was still showing years of neglect, the lonely years on the road not helping with the sheen and softness of the fur.

Now? It's stunning, the well-loved, healthy, tan fur practically glowing, and Eddie knows that it feels like running his hand through water with how soft it is. 

Beautiful. Every part of Buck is beautiful. 

Buck whines, snapping Eddie out of the trance he gets into whenever he sees Buck shift. The wolf's entire body is pressed into the nest, ears down, looking at him desperately. 

“I've got you,” he says, understanding, pressing a kiss onto the top of the fluffy head before taking off his clothes and shifting into his brown wolf. 

His senses automatically sharpen, trying to take in everything around him, but all that matters right now is Buck, so he jumps back into the nest and does his best to curl around the other. 

Buck responds happily, licking the underside of his jaw and pushing his snout there. In return Eddie licks his face, smothering it in kisses before slowing down to meticulously groom his mate-to-be, drawing out a content rumble from the omega. 

And here, with this amazing omega pressed against him and nuzzling him at every possible moment, he's confident in saying he chose this. Sure, it might have been his wolf that claimed Buck first despite never doing so with Shannon, but now this gorgeous man is Eddie's choice too. 

I love you, he thinks, nudging Buck's head with his own, rubbing their faces together. 

He doesn't need words to know the quiet, short howl is Buck saying the same.

[cliterature-xo]

Yes, Mommy...

She's been on her feet all day in the kitchen, baking those cinnamon rolls that she likes so much. Rubbing the flour off of her hands onto her right butt cheek, making an exact hand print but has no clue it's left there.

She fixes her hair, brushes some out of her face, and gets her things together to head out the door. Purse in one hand, keys, and phone in the other. Four perfectly laid red strands of hair out of place, some flour on her nose, and the handprint still in the most perfect shape of her fingers, on the back of her pants.

She's nervous but excited to finally meet him. It's been months of talking, flirting, never-ending stories, and deep conversations that ultimately lead to their souls colliding. She's filled with pent-up anxiety and fear that he might not like what he sees, he might notice her hair is out of place, she has bags under her eyes from staying up late to be able to say good morning to him so he doesn't go without it. He might notice the freckles on her forehead that aren't clearly visible in pictures. He might not like what she's wearing or how it sits on her body. All of these things flood her mind.

Quietly mutters to herself, "Maybe he won't want to hug me or kiss me, maybe I'm not what he's expecting..."

She gets in the vehicle, turns the music up loud enough so she can't hear her own thoughts, and heads towards the air port. It was a long drive but she arrived safely. She parks. Waits. Minutes turned into almost an hour because she wanted to be there early in fear of being late. Finally, he comes outside of the airport, she sees him, the way his clothing sits on his body, a smile that aligns perfectly with his jaw and those immaculate doe eyes.

She thought to herself, "he's taller than I envisioned."

Her entire body becomes overwhelmed, and she begins shaking as if she were standing outside in the cold winter air. Her body sinks heavily into the seat. He notices her, smiles, eyes light up, and he starts walking toward the vehicle. She opens the door, gets out, walks over to the sidewalk, and stands there, face turning beet red because of how incredible he looks, walking in her direction, never breaking eye contact.

The first thing he does is tuck his fingers in her hair with his right hand around the back of her head, and with his left, he holds her chin softly.

With an adoring look in his eye, he says without any hesitation or breaks in his voice. "Hey, beautiful. In case you forgot, you're mine, I own you, and your entire body, soul, and mind belong to me!"

He kissed her as passionately as she imagined he would, his lips had finally met hers, and they're so soft, supple, and perfect. They stop to hold onto each other in a loving embrace, his arms over her shoulders around her head, hers around his waist. They stood there for a long time, just swaying back and forth, tears streaming down her face because finally, he was holding her the way they had talked about since the first day they fell for one another. He was hers, and she was his.

Ending the hug was the hardest thing they've had to do thus far, but it was for a good reason. He grabs her hand, wipes her tears and leads her back to the drivers side door, opening it, moving her body with his, making her back up just enough so they're out of view of the family nearby. With both hands, he grabs her, turns her around, and looks up and down at what belongs to him. He notices the flour handprint on her ass cheek, smirks chuckles, and leans in smelling her hair and rubbing his stubble covered chin on the nape of her neck.

"You smell so good Mommy", he whispers softly.

She's now extremely turned on, feeling herself getting more and more excited being near him. He wraps his arms around her, running his hands along her stomach, all over everything she is so self-conscious about on the drive over. He grips and grabs, letting out a subtle groan. She feels him growing through his pants onto the middle of her ass and can already tell all of her fears no longer matter. They don't exist because he's real, and he wants all of her.

She turns around, looks him in the eyes, and says, "Get in!"

His eyebrows lift slightly. He bites his bottom lip and smiles. He walks around to the passenger side and slides into the seat.

The drive home was immensely filled with so much sexual tension in the air that you could cut it with a knife, but they just talked, as if they had never talked before. His eyes glance directly at her as she's driving, watching the way her mouth moves, admiring every mark, every red spot, every line, and just smiling.

She can't look at him because she knows she'll want to pull the vehicle over and have her way with him in the front seat. One hand on his thigh as promised, the other on the steering wheel. Giggles, laughter, and joy consume them. They're together. At last. It's what they've wanted for so long, and it finally happened.

The drive was long as to be expected, but they've finally arrived at the house. Pull into the garage, park, and just sit there for a moment. Instead of sexual tension, it's dead silent. They're both nervous now that they made it to the place where they'll get to share one another's scent, flesh and and warmth.

He gets out first, walks around the front of the vehicle over to her side again, opens the door, leans inside, gives her a kiss on the forehead and says softly, "let's go inside."

She blushes, turning a light shade of red, and climbs out of the seat. He grabs his things and follows, keeping up with her pace. Once inside, she shows him where he can leave his bags, place his shoes, and hang up his jacket. She's planned everything down in detail in her mind, but after seeing his entire being standing in her space, in her home, she can't think of any of them.

The tour begins, and he holds her from behind every time she stops, teasing her with his finger tips on any exposed skin while they go from room to room. No one is home. They're alone. Finally. Just the two of them. Two people who never thought they'd fall madly in love with one another. Two people who never thought they'd get to meet one another. It must have been a dream.

The bedroom. The place where they'll share their first intimate moments with one another. The room they've been talking about being intertwined in eachothers flesh and scents. It's overwhelming as fear and passion set in. She opens the door slowly, flicks on the light, and stands there. Frozen still. He moves to the side to look in at the bed and admire the entire room. She grabs his hand, leads him to the end of the bed, puts 2 fingers straight up in the air, and points them directly to the ground as if to signal him to kneel, hands on his knees and head down, as they've discussed prior. He obeys, as she knew he would. His face now flushed, and sweat started building up on his brows. She takes a step closer to him, grabs his chin with her right delicate hand, directs his head upward, and meets his gaze.

"That's my good boy. Your eyes are so much prettier in person, baby," she smiles.

Brain fuzzy, his entire body melting into her grasp. She gestures him to stand up and sit on the edge of the bed, placing him down as if he were a fragile piece of artwork. She stands directly in front of him, spreads his legs with her knees, shoves her warm supple breasts in his face, and holds him. Running her fingertips along his scalp. He's never been held like this before. He's never been in a woman's embrace like this before. He feels immediately safe and comfortable. She makes him feel safe and comfortable. He let's out a small gasp, and she knew he was tearing up.

"Baby, are you okay?" She asks politely.

"Yes ....Mommy," he stammers.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I needed you. You're home. I love you." He says with a soft, warm tone.

[dandylovesturtles]

This one is breaking the rules but aaaauuugh they're both really good prompts so I will do April and Raph Trick, just for you anon

(and answering this as a screenshot in case I ever want to write that other prompt too lol)

CWs: none really, other than some brief discussion of injuries from the fic

---

April's on a jet ski with Warren Stone when a very loud and repetitive sound comes from a fog horn in the sky. It takes her a moment to realize the sound is her ringtone, and it's actually coming from her bedstand. Blearily she blinks open her eyes and rolls over, fumbling until she finally grabs it and stares at the screen.

5:03 AM is what she sees first, and she prepares herself to verbally murder whoever is on the other end of the line, until she actually pays attention to the caller ID and accompanying picture.

Raph. An old picture of him making a silly face for the camera.

She's suddenly wide awake. Raph would never wake her up so early on a school morning for no reason. Which means something's happened.

She swipes to answer before the ringtone dies, nearly yanking her charger out of the wall with how fast she raises the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Um, hey, April..." His voice sounds hesitant, and April's suspicions are confirmed. "Sorry for calling so early, I just... wanted to catch you before you went to class."

"It's fine, big guy," she says, because it's Raph, and because his tone is screaming that something is wrong, bad wrong, and she could never be mad at him for calling her at any time when something is wrong. "What's up?"

"It's, uh... well. Something happened. It's... I don't even know where to start."

He's not telling her to meet them somewhere, so whatever happened isn't currently still occurring. April decides, then, to cut to the chase.

"Who's hurt?"

She hears Raph take a shaky breath, hears what sounds like a thud as he leans heavy against a wall. Then...

"Leo."

Blood turns to ice in her veins. She sets up fully in bed, pulling her legs to her chest and closing her eyes. Not again.

"What stunt did he pull this time?" she asks, but there's no heat to it, just the echoes of the distress she's barely holding back. Raph, at least, seems to understand.

"We don't know. We were chasing these yokai guys - there were three of 'em, so we split up. Leo chased one of 'em up onto the rooftops, and... uh..." Raph clears his throat. "We think... well, Donnie thinks he fell. Or was... maybe pushed."

Fell off a roof. April almost feels like she heard wrong, it feels impossibly mundane. Those boys have been running around on rooftops since before she knew them, and their shells are tough; she can't imagine any of them being too hurt by a tumble unless it was from really high up.

But she can tell from Raph's tone of voice that Leo was hurt - seriously. If this were a, "Haha, Leo fell and broke his leg," moment, she would have gotten that call from the boy himself.

She keeps her eyes closed, like that will somehow force reality away. Predictably, it doesn't work. "How bad is it?"

Raph takes too long to answer, and she fists her hand in the sheets while she waits.

"He's, uh... Well, he's breathing right now," he says, quickly, and she sucks in air too sharp and fast, "but he wasn't when we found him. And... I... I don't know, April."

April listens helplessly as Raph's voice cracks on the other end of the line. She wishes they were having this conversation in person, so she could give him the biggest hug she can manage, but that's not how life is.

"He's... he's not waking up. He's just... laying there. He looks so still, he... Even after the Krang, he never..."

Raph chokes up, and she can tell he's trying hard not to cry. She wonders if he's let himself break down yet, and thinks probably not, because he probably hasn't left Leo's side until now, which means he's stayed strong for Donnie and Mikey.

But Raph doesn't have to stay strong for her. She's the big sister, after all.

"It's okay, Raph," she says, her own tears starting to fall, her own voice shaky, but she only lets as much show as she needs, to encourage Raph in his own feelings. "It's okay. I'm here."

There's another thump from the other side of the line, Raph hitting the floor, if she had to guess, followed by one sob, and then another. And then she can hear him crying in earnest, and she lets him, repeating the same things over and over, I'm here, it's okay, let it out, I love you, we'll figure it out.

Later, April will get a shopping list of anything the boys need from Mikey. Later, she'll will trek down to the sewers and see her boys. Later, she'll take care of chores and harass Donnie into sleeping and do everything she can to cheer Mikey up. Later, she'll talk to Splinter and help him stay present for his sons. Later, she'll hold Leo's cold hand in hers and try to will her baby brother to wake up by force.

Right now, she has a different baby brother to take care of, one who needs her because he feels like he can't go to anyone else. The clock reads 5:14 AM, and that's okay. She'll be here as long as she needs to.

[whumpdreaming]

Taby's terrible horrible no good very bad life - 1

The starting chapter for my new series ft. a cute little goblin whumpee, which idk if I'm very happy with but hey it exists and I'm posting it. Christmas tree anon, I do have a good idea for your prompt but it comes a little later in the story so I'll get to it eventually!!!

Taby approaches the camp very carefully; it's still the very early morning, but it looks empty, so maybe its inhabitants went out to hunt or something. She avoids stepping on a brittle twig, trying to be as quiet as possible in case there's someone sleeping.

The trees above rustle in the wind, cold enough to be uncomfortable. Taby steps onto the soft dirt of the clearing, glancing behind herself again, distrustful of her senses. She glares at the neatly set-up tent, the flap whapping itself against the sides. It's too dark to see if there's anyone inside.

Slowly, Taby circles around the edge of the clearing, heading towards the wagon and the few boxes that surround it, stacked onto the ground. She's a little worried about being so far from home, almost two hours now, but if she finds something good then it'll definitely be worth it.

With another distrustful glance around, she opens the top of the first box, wiping away the sweat coalescing on her forehead. It seems to be mostly spare clothes — not what Taby is looking for, so she sets it down on the floor and moves on.

The second box seems more promising. Lots of miscellaneous metal stuff; a fancy whetstone, arrowheads, small daggers. Taby is about to grab some of it, when —

Taby gasps as a pair of very large hands grab her from behind, restraining her arms very tightly. Taby kicks and struggles against her assailant, but they stand up fully and it's clear that they are much taller than she is, not to mention stronger.

"Looks like you were right, Zarn," her assailant says with a deep and feminine voice.

Another figure, an elf, black-haired and dressed in red robes, raises an eyebrow. "I suppose so."

The woman holding Taby laughs. "What? Disappointed? It's barely — oh, ew, it's slimy."

The elf steps up to Taby, drawing their finger over her forehead and inspecting it. "That's how their sweat works, Mara. I told you. They're very good at slipping away."

"Let me go!" Taby growls, struggling uselessly in Mara's arms.

"Interesting," Zarn murmurs, holding open one of her eyelids. Taby tries to bite their hand, but they pull it away quickly, raising an eyebrow and getting out a thick leather book painted with symbols Taby doesn't recognize. Well, she can't read, but they look.. esoteric.

A mage? But — Zarn raises a hand and mutters something for a few moments, and then suddenly Taby's body goes very still. She panics, able to feel but not move, whimpering slightly as Mara slings her over her shoulder.

Taby whines softly, tears falling down her cheeks, as her captors work quickly, placing two tall, indented poles in the ground, then stripping her bare and binding her to them with chains. Just as she's working some mobility back into her hands, Taby is thoroughly restrained and unable to escape, crying incessantly.

Her panic makes her feel warm despite the heat. Taby sobs, pulling at her shackles even as they make her wrists ache. She never should have come here. She should be at home..

Zarn just sits there, looking vaguely disinterested, writing in their book.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Taby growls once she regains a good enough hold over her tongue, not quite as menacingly as she'd imagined in her head. "Let me go!"

"Sorry, cutie, not gonna happen," Mara says, returning from her tent. Taby is able to get a better look at her now — a tall human woman in leather armor, over double Taby's height, with tan skin and thick blonde hair.

Taby slumps down, but she can't comfortably kneel or sit, only stand with her feet bare against the dirt. She shivers from the wind, and imagines how nice a blanket must be right now. "Please let me go home. Please.."

Mara steps up and pokes her tummy. "You know, I really thought they'd be smaller." Zarn doesn't respond.

"Just let me go," Taby pleads. "Let me go home."

Zarn sighs. "I advise keeping your mouth shut, please."

"Please!"

Zarn sighs again, speaking softly. "Mara, please beat some sense into her. Don't be gentle. She needs to learn quickly."

Mara gives him a stupid grin and a thumbs-up, then promptly kicks Taby in the face.

Taby shrieks, as Mara kicks her again, and then again. Her boots are made of metal, and they're hard, and she kicks hard enough to leave bruises. She punches Taby in the stomach, knocking away all her air, then pounds her in the ribs hard enough to crack something.

Taby hangs her head as Mara retreats, yawning, talking to Zarn about something or other, then heading back inside. Zarn turns their attention back to Taby, studying her carefully.

"Why?" Taby asks quietly, through gritted teeth.

Zarn doesn't respond, but walks slowly around Taby, inspecting her, touching her ears, feeling the texture of her hair and skin and sweat. Taby squeezes her eyes shut — she's never felt so vulnerable and alone before. She just wants to go home. She just wants to go home..

[theflyingfeeling]

hi hello I'm here with another establishement to the terrible Olli/Allu infidelity AU, yes I should stop I know I know I knoooooww but listen, this time it's a sort of sequel to this fic of the same theme and inspired by this so yeah, to sum up:

Olli comes to the possession of Aleksi's shorts and proceeds to pleasure himself while wearing them, thinking of Aleksi. There's lots of pining, angst, and general misery in it too. Rommi and Rilla are mentioned.

~

Olli was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Instead of city lights, there was the sun still greeting him from behind pines and birches when he sat up to look out the window, despite his smartwatch reading half past midnight. Instead of the noise of traffic or the strangers in the next room talking too loudly, Olli heard the chirp of early morning willow warblers and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

And the deep, calm breathing next to him.

She was sleeping peacefully, a rosy blush still colouring her cheeks from their earlier lovemaking. Her hair was spread on the pillow under her head, long and blonde like a mermaid's, and so very unlike Aleksi's. Suddenly Olli remembered all those mornings on tour, when he had woken up to blonde hair on his face, on his eyes and mouth and cheeks, and he had to get out the cottage before the sobs that were building up inside his chest would burst out and wake her up.

He grabbed his phone and a pair of black shorts to pull on his naked self, and then he sneaked out, tiptoeing past Niko and Minna's bedroom to not raise any unneeded attention as to why he was going out alone at that hour. There was no sound from the other room, so Olli assumed the other couple was already finished with their nightly activities as well and were now soundly asleep, enabling Olli's escape, even if he wasn't going any farther than the back porch of the Moilanen’s family cottage.

The tears that had been burning the rims of his eyes finally came when he sat on the cushioned garden chair on the porch. He let them stream down his cheeks soundlessly, knowing he'd feel better if he did, while still swallowing his sobs back to wherever they had come from. No matter how much he wanted to cry out his yearning for something he was never allowed to have, so loud that Aleksi could hear him all the way from Lapland to the south of Finland, he could not risk anyone inside the cottage to hear him, especially not her. She had already seemed suspicious earlier that day, eyeing the shorts he had been wearing (or maybe he had just imagined it, feeling tense from just having the garment touch his thighs).

"Why can't I remember seeing those before? Did you buy them on tour?" she had asked, seconds after they had gotten out of the car in the front yard of the cottage, with Minna waving at them from the window.

Olli's mind had instantly filled with perfectly believable explanations to give her. 'They're Aleksi's, in fact, but he doesn't wear them anymore, so he gave them to me, because the other alternative would have been to throw them in the trash I guess', or 'Aleksi couldn't fit them in his luggage when we left Hilltop Forest last week, yeah, I don't know how that was possible either, but in any case I promised to take them and give them back to him next week after midsummer, please don't tell him I've been wearing them though, haha, that wasn't part of the deal, but they're just so comfy' and she likely wouldn't have even batted an eye at either explanation. She probably would have even baked biscuits for Olli to give Aleksi with the shorts. Yet, there was something that had kept him from mentioning Aleksi's name.

"Uh, yeah. Got them from Tokyo."

Olli's paranoia had turned into a relief that had soon mixed with guilt as she had complemented how nicely the shorts brought out the curve of his ass, just in time before Minna would step out of the cottage to welcome them with Rommi zooming past her. Either way, Olli had been glad she had asked about the shorts before they'd see Niko, who might or might not have recognized them as Aleksi's and blown Olli's cover in the blink of an eye. Then again, their clothes mixed on tour all the time so that sometimes they weren't even sure which clothes were their own, let alone whose socks or t-shirt was stinking on the tour bus floor, so perhaps Olli was safe in that regard. Perhaps Niko had only glanced at them and then at him with a sorry angle to his eyebrows when the girls had browsed gowns to wear to the wedding of the century.

To his defence, Olli couldn't have told the truth about the origin of the shorts anyway, for he had no memory of putting them in his own backpack after the Hilltop Forest party. He wanted to call Aleksi and ask, knowing the man would still be awake, but if he did call him, he feared he was going to be crushed by the pressure of having to speak about what they had done there (given each other handjobs while everyone else was asleep), or even having to speak about the unspeakable (the ring Aleksi had started to wear in his left hand), so he was forced to abandon the idea before it would consume him; before the thought of hearing Aleksi's quiet voice on the phoneline would trump everything and have him do something erratic, such as getting in the car and drive all night, just to ask Aleksi to call off the plans of pink roses on every table and his brother's band playing at the reception.

Aleksi had made his choice, and Olli was not it. Olli accepted it too, knowing there were too many obstacles on their way for anything more to happen, other than hasty handjobs in the tour bus or sucking each other off in backstage bathrooms. That was all there was ever meant to be, and even that should never have happened; Olli should never have let that happen, but when he was stuck in a truckstop in the middle of Texas and missed being that close to someone and having his heart crush his ribcage to little pieces, what chance did he have to hold himself back? What chance did he have, when Aleksi was right there with his bluest eyes and his lips sculptured from the finest marble, prettier than–

Olli should have slapped himself for even thinking that.

Wiping his cheeks, he sat back on the chair and felt a streak of light in his eyes from behind the woods. He turned his face away from the midnight sun, the only witness to what they had done the week before, and now to Olli's meltdown as well. Great, he thought, first Niko, who knows more than he should because we forgot to lock the bathroom door once, and probably Minna too, who knows because Niko knows, and now I can't face the sun anymore either, in fear of it spilling all my secrets about how much I need Aleksi.

Olli shook his head in frustration and cast his eyes to his lap, to the black garment wrapping around his thighs. Why he was wearing the shorts that day in the first place was almost a bigger mystery than how he had come into the possession of them. Maybe he genuinely thought they were comfy, or at least comfier than his only clean pair of shorts. Maybe, in some strange, self-destructing way he thought they'd make him feel closer to Aleksi and the most recent night they had shared. He stroked the white embroidery with his thumb and immediately remembered how warm Aleksi's skin had felt underneath it, soft and full against Olli's palm as he had slid his hand inside the pant leg. A sigh turned into a groan when memories of Aleksi panting and squirming filled his head, and something would throb below his palm, just like something had throbbed below his palm in the moment they had shared on the porch of the fancy rental cottage a week ago.

He had told Aleksi to stay quiet, nibbled on his earlobe and the earring Aleksi had put back on after sauna. Aleksi hadn't needed to be told twice, as he, too, was well aware they had way more to lose than to win in this reckless little game they kept playing; kept and couldn't stop despite the warning signs, despite each touch that they shared becoming more needy and thus more dangerous. It had not been Olli's plan to let it happen there, where they had been surrounded by not only their bandmates but also their business associates from the record label, but when Olli had seen the tent on the front of Aleksi's swimming shorts in the sauna after they had given each other a good old beating with the vasta, there was little else he was able to think about for the rest of the evening. A stronger man would have fought against the temptation and just saved the moment for a private fantasy when jerking off. Olli, however, could not blow his own trumpet in that regard, and so he found himself seeking Aleksi's proximity all night, waiting until the others would retreat to their rooms so that he could finally put his hands on Aleksi.

Sure, he wasn't the only one to blame. If Aleksi had wanted to, he could have told Olli to back off, could have asked Olli to respect his decision and that stupid, shiny piece of jewellery on his finger, but he hadn't, not once. Instead he had spread his legs to give Olli more room to massage him through his shorts, those shorts, and leaned his head away from Olli to expose his neck for Olli to mouth on. They rarely kissed – only when they were tipsy or heartbroken enough – perhaps so that they could pretend none of it meant anything to either of them. In reality, it meant the world to Olli, to be allowed to touch and kiss Aleksi's body as if he was meant to do it, as if they belonged only to each other and not to some completely different people.

Shivers ran down Olli's spine as he remembered how Aleksi's cock had pulsated under his touch, similar to how his own erection was now pulsating inside the shorts. He shoved the remorse and shame aside for the sake of letting the memory swallow him, for the sake of travelling back in time and space to that chilly summer evening that had had them both sweating and breathing heavily by the end of it. Slowly rubbing his own hard-on, he closed his eyes and wished he could be doing that to Aleksi the way he had done then, making the man panting, writhing, whispering into Olli's ear to beg for him to make Aleksi come, darned be the fresh pair of underpants he'd ruin. Olli bit his lip to not laugh out loud at the memory of Aleksi suddenly stopping him, remembering he would have no extra ones to change into if he was to jizz his pants, so as a compromise he had pulled his hard cock out of his boxers and fit it inside a pant leg so that his tip had been peeking from under the black fabric. The sight had mesmerised Olli and had almost made him switch from sucking Aleksi's neck to sucking his dick instead, if the small noises Aleksi had been making into Olli's ear hadn't convinced him to keep on kissing Aleksi's neck and jawline.

Olli squeezed his own cock and remembered how hard Aleksi had been for him. He remembered Aleksi's hot, heavy breaths, similar to his own breathless sighs now. He remembered Aleksi's lips finding his at last, hungry and greedy just like Olli's own had been. He remembered Aleksi whimpering into his mouth as he had approached his peak, the sound of it alone almost enough to make Olli come too. He remembered how Aleksi had grabbed the front of Olli's shirt, how he had muffled his sobs against it when his orgasm had washed over him.

Olli had not been sure if they had been sobs of pleasure or of something else. He hadn't dared to ask, afraid the answer might be something he didn't want to hear.

Almost ready to come himself, Olli rubbed his cock through the shorts with more force and decided to focus on the memory of Aleksi's climax instead of his cries, of Aleksi's cock pulsating inside the pant leg and finally shooting thick cum on his own thigh. It was pathetic, Olli knew, but it was hardly the first time during the past week Olli had masturbated to that image, and if he wasn't missing Aleksi so much, if he wasn't so consumed by the longing he had for his friend, he would have felt ashamed for cumming as hard as he did while thinking about Aleksi's semen dripping down his thigh. Olli's hips jerked and he felt the fabric of the shorts getting damp from his jizz, and just barely he was able to keep himself from moaning into the summer night from the strength of his orgasm, to have the reindeer they had seen on the road to the cottage earlier that day hear his groans of euphoria and misery alike.

The guilt returned faster than it usually did, but Olli supposed it was because he was alone. He sniffled, then, feeling sorry for himself for having no panting, blissed out Aleksi next to him to nuzzle on his shoulder, to carry half of Olli’s sins. He sniffled again, remembering he did have someone inside the cottage who'd do exactly that and more; someone who had made him a chocolate cake for breakfast when he came back home from tour and had offered to give him a massage to wash off the frown that seemed to be stuck on his face as of late; someone who cared for him, needed him, and didn't go around putting rings on other people’s fingers.

It wasn't her sin to bear, though. She deserved far better than that.

His hands were shaking when he took out his phone from his pocket. He wasn't even sure why he had taken it with him when he had gotten up in the dead of night. It must have been an unconscious choice, much like the one he had made in the morning, looking at two pairs of almost identical shorts and choosing the ones his stupid heart had told him to.

In spite of his earlier hesitation, his finger was soon hovering over Aleksi’s name. 

He didn't expect Aleksi to pick up at almost one in the morning, even if it was summer and holiday and Aleksi was probably still awake at his studio, working on a solo project or scheduling emails to be sent the next day. At the same time he knew Aleksi would, for those exact reasons.

"Hey."

"Hey," Olli answered. He wiped his nose on his wrist.

"Can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Me neither. Fucking jetlag..." Aleksi's voice was strangely quiet. Olli didn't want to think about him taking the call while upstairs, with her.

"Watcha doing?" he asked, just to have Aleksi tell him he wasn't.

"Nothing much. Just... killing time at the studio."

Olli sighed. 

Killing time because you're bored and sleepless, or killing time until you'll get to climb back upstairs to an empty bed when she's already left for work?

"What about you?"

The sniffles wouldn't stop, no matter how Olli tried to keep them in.

"Thinking about you."

He didn't know what else to tell Aleksi.

"Oh."

The line fell quiet then, and Olli saw no need to break the silence. He settled for listening to the distant cuckoo from deep in the woods and wondered if Aleksi could hear it too; if that way they could pretend they were together.

"I've been thinking about you too. A lot. I know I shouldn't, because–"

"Don't say it," Olli spoke over him.

My heart's already as if stabbed, I don't need you to twist the knife any further.

They said nothing again for almost a minute, just listened to each other's breathing. In that moment, it was enough, and much better than filling the silence with truths that made Olli want to groan in agony.

He looked down at his hands, at his lap.

"I have your shorts," he told Aleksi. He could lie to himself and say he did it in case Aleksi had wondered about them, but he knew that wasn't the reason.

Aleksi stayed quiet for another moment before answering.

"I know."

It couldn't have meant what Olli hoped it meant. It wouldn't have been fair of Aleksi.

"I'll give them back to you next week," he forced out of his mouth, managing to do so without his voice trembling. The white text on the pant leg was beginning to blur.

"Okay. Thanks."

My fucking pleasure, Mattson.

"Can't wait to see you next week," Aleksi said, as if he had sensed Olli was about to hang up on him out of sheer bitterness.

Bitterness over Aleksi torturing him like this, or bitterness over the situation in general? Be as it may, Olli knew he wasn't entitled to such a feeling in the first place.

On the other end of the line, Aleksi exhaled.

"Fuck it, Olli, I miss you. I know I shouldn't, but... fuck," the man swore out his evident frustration.

No matter which way Olli tried to put it, the situation wasn't fair for any of them. He sniffled again.

"I miss you too. Too much."

A silence fell on the phone line once more, a melancholic one this time, rather than a tense or an expectant one. It was broken when Olli heard Aleksi's office chair creak.

"I think Rilla's awake upstairs. I may need to go up and let her out. She's been having stomach issues."

"Say hi to her from me," Olli said and wiped something off his cheek.

"Yeah, I will," Aleksi promised. After a brief pause, he spoke again. "Thanks for the call. I was...actually thinking of calling myself, but–"

Olli couldn't bear hearing Aleksi's reasons. "See you next week." 

"Yeah. Bye."

One last, self-pitying sniffle and Olli was back on his feet. The cum inside the shorts was starting to cool, making him despise the piece of clothing for the discomfort and guilt they were giving him. Back in the bedroom, with her deep asleep and thus oblivious to Olli's absence, Olli stripped himself naked again and crammed Aleksi's shorts deep in his backpack, hoping he'd be able to do something about them without her noticing. It wasn't going to be easy, with her on her annual summer leave from work and always home with him now that he was there too for once, so maybe he'd have to sneak out at midnight again to scrub them clean. Whatever Aleksi's intentions had been, Olli doubted he wanted his beloved shorts back all crusty from dried-out semen.

Careful to not alert the sleeping woman on the other side of the bed, Olli slid under the duvet and lay on his back, eyes on the ceiling.

Olli was exactly where he was supposed to be.

But wasn't it funny, how the place where he wanted to be was some place else entirely. 

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #187

I still don't have quite enough sleep. I stayed up a little later than I wanted to, but I still wanted to go to the nice place with the awesome leader, which meant I woke up early, because the place is an hour away. It has been some time since last I wasn't too overwhelmed to go. I'm glad I went.

I was in a lot more pain than usual today, though, so I wasn't able to be chipper or to mingle in the way I usually do. I'm really glad that no one seemed to mind.

At the place, there is a young teenage girl who I wanted to give my collection of Pokémon cards to. She is very interested in them, and I had a great big huge binder full of some of the old ones that were around way back when they first came out. I arranged them in pages of sleeves - 18 cards per page - in numerical order. The formatting of these cards has changed dramatically over the years. I don't really like the new formatting, and the old formatting isn't widely available anymore, so I don't collect them anymore. So what's my binder gonna do other than sit on a shelf somewhere, collecting dust? Better that it goes to someone who will be able to appreciate them a little more.

But she hasn't been coming to the place recently, I guess. So I left it with the older gentleman that she is usually with; he will give her the binder. I hope she likes it. But if she doesn't, I suppose I can always take it back, if she doesn't want it.

When we were done, J and I went to Eggcellent again. I was extra tired and cranky from the sleep deprivation and the rib pain, so I got two matcha lattes; one had rose syrup, tea jelly, and cream cheese foam, and the other one was basically the same, except it had lavender syrup instead of rose syrup:

I split each of these with J; he seemed to like sharing them with me, and that was good.

...I spent the rest of the day trying to design a house, with mixed success. It's nowhere near done yet. And I'm not really sure I'm liking the layout. And no... I can't show it to you when it's done, which really super sucks, but it is what it is.

At some point during all that, J reminded me that I have to come up for air every now and then when I'm working on things; I'm a lot like you in that if I'm left to my own devices, the hyperfocus becomes strong, and I don't eat, drink, or sleep properly like I should. I'm probably pretty dehydrated, actually... Suppose I had better fix that...

Well, in any case, J took me on a brief walk outside. The sun was setting, and it was especially nice today, so naturally, I tried to snag a few pictures for you...

...And that's all I've got. I hope you enjoyed looking at these as much as I enjoyed taking them for you; the world is full of beauty amidst the darkness. You just gotta know where to look.

...I should get to sleep. So I'm gonna get some water, and then go to sleep. I've got a visual field test tomorrow morning, I guess, because I had been having this weird thing happen in my left eye somewhat recently whereby a decent chunk of my vision is obscured by a navy-blue splotch for a fraction of a second, every several minutes.

It was doing that for a number of weeks, and then it stopped happening. But they don't know what it is, and my eyes look healthy from the exam just a few days ago. They imagine it's an ocular migraine of some kind (though there was no headache), but they're gonna do the visual field test just to make sure there's nothing weird afoot. I'm gonna assume it's nothing to worry about; possibly just stress-induced or something.

...Next week is gonna be rough. I've got the eye doctor, I gotta get a dress modified, there's therapy, and then orientation for the new job, and then I'm gonna get 4 teeth extracted. It's a lot. I'm daunted. But it'll be okay. I've got this. Don't you worry your pretty little head about me, all right? I'm gonna be just fine. But if you wanna maybe wish me a bit of luck, perseverance, endurance, and resolve, I certainly would appreciate it. And if you don't wanna, then that's okay, too; I'll be all right either way.

I love you. I'll write again tomorrow. Please stay safe.

Your friend, Lumine

[nohymn]

hi hi hi reverse uno card moment

what is sunday's morning routine like?

does he have any bad habits? quirks?

favorite desserts? are there any foods he just can't stand?

the wing piercings. what is the deal with that. what are your thoughts.

are there any specific songs you associate with him? can be from in-game or irl, can be based on lyrics or just good old fashioned vibes.

any miscellaneous headcanons about halovians in general?

prompt: character questionnaire / always accepting.

hi hi hi i've been STRUCK... for the uno reverse i shall also bestow you an essay >:^)

dont worry about this its bc my read more keeps bugging up

what is sunday's morning routine like?

it starts at the first crack of dawn. sunday is an early riser, although sometimes his body longs for an extra ten to fifteen minutes. he disciplines himself as to not give into that temptation, even if his bed is so warm, but maybe if he's lucky and there's something canceled in the morning, he can indulge - but very rarely, and eventually there comes a time where he holds himself to a higher standard with it that no, you must work. he does take a few minutes to admire the daylight through his window and the sky, one little moment of tranquility and reflection, before beginning with his day. from there as he reminds himself of his schedule for the day, he takes care of hygiene first: he showers to cleanse himself of filth, then bathes, and is particular in grooming his hair and wings so that they're of utmost care and without flaw. he's particular about using scented oils and such. world's most dedicated toothbrusher. he is doing so good at flossing his dentist is like i love this guy.

he has already picked out his outfit the night before, and ensured that it's without a wrinkle to its name. he'll ensure he looks presentable in the mirror, do vocal warm ups, and triple check everything is in place before he so much as leaves his private bedroom. in the case of the sunday in penacony versus the sunday in the real world, the sunday within our world has to do a little extra maintenance: i imagine that his body has a toll from how long he stays in the dreamscape, with some of it showing on his face, so he goes about covering any blemishes or imperfections of the sort with makeup. nothing can look amiss. i do imagine dreamscape sunday may put on a little less just to add finishing touches, but i can't imagine it's much more than foundation or gloss to keep his lips under care and all that.

he'll once again go over his schedule for today with staff / family members / business partners / what may have you and what obligations are needed today before breakfast, where he keeps it light and quick with a side of tea for the caffeine, but nutritious and homely and pleasant to the palate. he ensures to always be down before seven in the morning, and that is when the day truly begins.

"what about on the astral express?" you ask, because there's less structure... and i think that really throws him hard. he's able to sleep in, and it disquiets him for awhile. there is no schedule to stick by, and yet he feels compelled to keep what routine he can still salvage from his lost life because he doesn't know how conduct himself without it and ordered tethers. the first few days of sleeping in are discomforting for his general sense, and he's met with frequent surprise at being one of the earlier risers, if not the earliest aboard the express. he tries to find new things to bring in the routine to try and get some semblance back, but he must remind himself that... this too, is part of the journey. but he will find things to do to fill in the spaces in the early morning. he's taken quite a habit to journaling.

does he have any bad habits? quirks?

a bit of a loaded question... for serious bad habits, i think he has a very bad habit of coming off as condescending. a lot of his bad habits manifest in small ways; he is still manipulative in ways without always being conscious of it or aware that it's really manipulation because it's so deeply ingrained into him, something he would be trying to work on, ideally. it's hard shifting from one mindset to another, and some of these aspects aren't so very easily just shed with a change of mindset. there is still a want for some kind of control, or to sort of... be of use, be helpful, aid others, which can be a little smothering and the like, there's still a bossy part of him, this part of him that still holds his pride high, his stubbornness, a longing to debate... so on so forth.

innocuous bad habits? i feel like he's tries to suppress most of those the best he can. picking at sweets, for example... he loves to explain or ramble about things, but he really tries to keep his tongue from running loose there. he has a very bad habit of drumming his forefinger or forefinger and middle finger when waiting on something. sometimes he leaves his tea in longer than is needed to get more flavor out of it. if he's thinking, sometimes he'll tap the end of a thumb to the corner of his mouth when he's alone, usually to a rhythm. he gets this urge to correct things that are out of place, off balance, off-kilter, whether it's furniture or on someone, but usually it's a social faux paus so he doesn't...... but if he's alone. sometimes he really may just do it. when he was a young boy he had to keep a sleeve to himself to not stain his arm when he wrote because the ink would smear on him. sometimes he has to stop himself from humming along to songs when they come about because there's also this urge to. sometimes he wants to debate or correct someone when they say something wrong so bad. sometimes he does sometimes he doesn't but it errs on the courtesy. those kinds of things

favorite desserts? are there any foods he just can't stand?

this is so cute..... egg-based pastries are a given, especially egg tarts and the like... egg pudding as well. i find he probably very much like pastries that are easy to eat: tarts, danishes, little finger foods he can pluck up, peck at, and eat without too much of a mess, as well as soft baked goods you can split / share with a loved one.. like your sibling. this is a tangent, but i know as a kid he always gave robin [and in twin au, eden] the bigger half. i think he likes creamy flavors and especially mixed with fruits and/or nuts. white chocolate raspberry cheesecake, for example. if he were to have ice cream it'd be very custardy in quality. he is a cake guy. i remembered pecan pie and thought that sounds right.

as for what he can't stand................ he's tried. honest. he will eat so many other vegetables. he eats a well-balanced diet. trust me. but broccoli is still so difficult. he's had it cooked too many ways, and it never sticks. he'll have it in dishes, he'll eat it for courtesy, he won't outwardly complain if it's in poor show to, but he does not like it. aside from that... anything egregiously messy. i'm with you on the fork and knife headcanon all the way. i think he's someone who really shudders when he's eating soft food and there's something unexpectedly hard that shouldn't be there, or vice-versa. i think too much fat in meat doesn't blend well on his tongue. but this guy will eat woodchips as a delicacy. whatever. i'm in the belief this is because he likes the crunch and also got super used to it because he was taught oh it's a delicacyyyy

the wing piercings. what's the deal with that. what are your thoughts.

oh man this is one i'm still chewing on so here are my proto beta thoughts that may change with time:

if i had to take a shot in the dark, i would think it's a freedom of expression just as his rings are. sunday is very aware of his image and is conscious of self-expression through dress. everything you wear is a statement piece. his rings, for example, are particular in this way as well: one is on the finger dedicated to his mother, and another, his sister.

it's unorthodox. out there. but i believe this was a piece of himself he has kept that he got in his teen years very likely before robin departed. i like to imagine that he got them done when she got her ears pierced, as a reassurance that she's not alone in this, and you see? we'll do it together. [and in some part with how sensitive sunday is compared to robin, you have to wonder if it was the opposite for her and she did it to comfort him hahaha] the resemblance to nails isn't very lost on me [hello stigmata... i can see how it's viewed as punishment in a way, and i have to wonder how halovian wings stack up in terms of sensitivity. i'm thinking about the graph i was shown where it seemed to be on the softer part of the wing that wouldn't hurt as much... they do also look like thorns too encroaching from him, don't they. much to think about], nor is how garish they look in comparison to.. everything else he wears. in my mind, he keeps them because they're a memory of a sweet, albeit probably embarrassing but even rebellious moment with his sister, and he received two in commemoration of his sister and his mother. no matter where he flies, where the sky leads, they will always be close to him :')

[though now that i've typed this i do have an alternative hc thought for the bittersweet punishment angle... mayhaps i'll yap about that some other time or in dms if ur interested]

are there any specific songs you associate with him? can be from in-game or irl, can be based on lyrics or just good old fashioned vibes.

I WISH I HAD MORE but there are two that come to mind! slowly i will build up my sunday playlist.......... and i will link it on my blog. eventually. i'm always open to suggestions

the first is nevermore by sasakure.uk! [cw: glitch effects, flashing lights] aka the song in my pinned. my bestie rue suggested the song to me bc i found it before, but was like "hey think about this as sunday" and it blasted my mind. very much a "sunday in penacony and his relationship with gopher wood and his savior complex and his control towards others" song to me. the associations with edgar allen poe's the raven is a bonus.

secondly is one more unexpected, but pork soda from this sunday mv [cw: bright lights, eye contact, self-strangulation gestures] rue showed me this one as well, but it's remained stuck at the forefront of my mind as very integral to how i see sunday.

any miscellaneous headcanons about halovians in general?

i've already spoken to you briefly about how i think their conventions of beauty and gender expression are different from the ones typically seen and is unique to them, so i have to pick through my brain for a good one...

i'll do a quick fire off of some basic ones i'm still developing!

halovians aren't typically known to run on the tall side. they're all what we would say are average, or even run shorter than that

i'm sort of stuck on how some halovians we've seen have wings and others not. this could easily be chalked up to "i think they just didn't wanna model all of that for random npcs we'd run into beyond sunday / robin, because you can see siobhan's mother has someone, but siobhan doesn't", but part of me wonders if they can hide it, or if not all halovians are born with them? what constitutes why someone wouldn't have them vs would?

on the vein of wings: i'd like to think they're similar to the halos in the sense that they do often resemble one's hair color, but i think they may also take some shape or attribute to the beholder as they change and grow. now here's a question: do you think halovians would have special dye for their feathers?

i was talking about this with my friend vos a few nights ago, but i'm tickled by the thought of halovians having subpar eyesight the stronger their telepathic abilities are, like an equal exchange of sorts, though i'm unsure on this one bc i'd have to think on how that'd all work out. something about being blinded by the sun...

i think common facial features are very rounded

their hearing is superb, which adds to their latency for music. most halovians are musically gifted, or in some part, creatively inclined. there was a tale among the fools that it was so that they could listen to the whispers of the aeons all the better, and that their wings acted as means to deliver such messages.

this one is very standard for well, most people, but the back of the neck is very intimate, and is often to be hidden by hair, a coat, something, because of the bone that connects to the wings. it's very sensitive in there.

they aren't great with the cold, but they lean towards using their feathers to fluff up and regulate heat within them [i'll think of the science later] to keep warm in the chillier months

listen. four types of eye color cones instead of the average three. something something seeing the harmony's light

they have got to be meticulous about their nails

[justacanofcorn]

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

Chapter Twenty: ludo finitum.

Chapter Nineteen

Finally, Anora gets closure. finishing the game.

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

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

Yes, human tragedies and human judgment indeed.

Human error, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lestrade studies her.

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

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

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

“You're not worried how it'll look?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His walk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this, Lestrade nods and leans in to Anora. 

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

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

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

“Shall we go for a walk, my dear?”

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

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

“Yes, thank you Benjamin.”

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

“I didn't know you liked birds.”

James looks at her and crinkles his brow.

“I never took you to feed birds?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you hope?”

Anora looks at him and frowns.

“That's not fair.”

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

“No, I suppose it's not. Forgive me.”

As if it were easy.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you, with me, in turn?”

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

“And I more?”

He nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, Anora, what comes next for you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The young man thrusts an envelope towards her.

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

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

To 221b Baker Street

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[schismusic]

THE DISCOGRAPHY PRINCIPLE, Episode 4: Coil, or: Better Git It in Your Soul

As I'm writing this piece, everyone who knows their shit is spasmodically waiting for the physical repress of Moon's Milk (In Four Phases) to hit store shelves, assuming they haven't bought it off the site. All the people who have been knowing their shit since before it was cool to do so already had the FLACs on their hard disk drives. Not to brag, but I'm part of that second group. I love gay people, I love Creative Commons licenses, I love what happens when you rub them together (in case you're wondering, you have a phenomenon called teenage lightning).

[As you're going to see throughout the piece, the remaster did come out, and it's glorious]

If you ask anyone they will probably tell you Horse Rotorvator is Coil's best, and it's not like they're wrong, but it may be a bit limiting. It goes about the same as Incunabula; refer back to the Autechre post for more clarification, but in short it's an incredibly good record that takes some extra work done in the present time because some of its sound palette choices end up making it sound a bit uncanny, if not dated. I'd rather not go with "dated" for this specific record simply because Scatology exists, and it doesn't get anymore '80s than that, not necessarily in a positive way. If we take out The Anal Staircase (by the way, great title, guys!) the rest of the tracks on Horse Rotorvator have some actually quite futureproof stuff going on, on average - sometimes bordering on prescient, like on Penetralia, just barely removed from 2010s brostep aggression, and sometimes I wish they had the hardware to process that stuff. But the big-ass reverb on the snare and percussion, the sheer nudity of the production, the way the orchestral bits and samples are integrated into the arrangements kind of make it sound like the record is striving really hard for a sound that simply could not be attained at the time of realization.

The great part is that literally nothing I said in this paragraph is a negative at all.

Compare Penetralia to, for instance, Restless Day from Scatology; or maybe even compare Ostia to Tenderness of Wolves. Both are great, sure, but while the Rotorvator just don't check out at times, the Scatology ones seem to have an expiration date written on them. Only one exception to this rule: At the Heart of It All. If I had to draw another comparison, this would probably link up to The First Five Minutes After Death, and this time it's the latter paling in comparison to the former. It sounds sickly and isolated in a special unique way, unable to fight back, devoid of any possible bite: it sounds like it saw the actual horse rotorvator, the Four Horsemen slitting the horses' throats and meshing the jawbones into a gigantic, earthshattering plough. Nothing exists beyond At the Heart of It All. Nothing survives.

Coil, after all, always flirted with a sense of profound despair, even at their funniest and most tongue-in-cheek. This is relevant: not many other bands of their era display, or even have, that same sense of humor about not just themselves but the whole world; consequently, not many have reached the same scope of intent, and the same successful realization of said intents, as Coil. Partially unrelated: one of my favourite stories about them is that one time in the early 2000s when the rest of the band couldn't find Jhonn Balance after a gig in Greece — I think at least, I'm going off the top of my head here — so on the following morning they were forced to board their plane to their next gig in mainland Europe without him. So as they're about to play the gig without him, seeing as he simply isn't there, magically he shows up, and nobody could even imagine how he'd managed to get there on time. At the time Jhonn was already having big trouble with alcohol, had already broken up with Peter Christopherson. Many of these things I came to know through some tried-and-true Coil obsessives, and there's apparently a lot of them around: people who exchanged correspondence, cassette tapes, memories with some of the collaborators in the band or even Balance and Christopherson themselves. There's basically an army of unauthorized Coil biographers out there. But staying more strictly on the point, it's impossible to separate Coil and the lives of those who made up Coil; therefore it is impossible to separate Coil and life itself.

Some of you may remember me mentioning the aborted Autechre/Coil collab back in episode one of this series. In that very same conversation, we had a really deep dive into how Coil's attraction to — mostly Western — esotericism, even the most downright evil and uncomfortable parts of it (how could we ever forget the iconic "the industrial use of semen will revolutionise the human race" shirt?), stemmed from a more general interest in the fullness of life; and the more I think about that, the more understandable Coil's visual fascination with nature is. Four EPs, one for each of the major sun-related astronomical events introducing the four seasons; the luscious woods on the covers of the two Musick to Play in the Dark records; the rocky cliffs and the goats being a perfect aesthetic fold to The Remote Viewer's abrasive/ascetic hurdy-gurdy drones. All of this accompanied to music that seems to strive for the most eldritch effect possible — in one way or another, Coil's sound design is like looking very, very, very deep into the bottom of an abyss of your choice simply for the fun of it, or rather for the curiosity, the doubt that something of incalculable value might lie down there. We as humans really enjoy getting to know stuff much more than we enjoy actually knowing stuff, the progress of process is much more enticing to us than the staticity of completion. Coil still sound, twenty years after Balance's death and almost fifteen years after after Christopherson's death, like they are disciples. They listen just as much as we do.

And this predisposition to listen is specifically what makes them particularly apt at speaking, too. Coil express depth because they feel deeply, ultimately, and they don't fear emotion — any emotion. Which means they are just at ease analysing the diffusion of gossip and its subsequent deformation and bloating as they are discussing alcoholism and the search for oblivion, and what's better: these topics are discussed in two sister tracks (namely Red Queen and Ether). Both tracks, alienated from the context of their respective records, sound like relatively soothing jazzy piano ballads with some lunatic saying the most out-of-pocket shit possible on top of them, and some pretty fucked up background noises going on, Red Queen being the easiest possible application of this concept. But the effect gets somehow creepier when Jhonn Balance actually introduces a recognizable melody into the mix. This is probably the best moment to talk about Jhonn Balance's voice.

If I'd talked to Dog about this piece, they probably would once again link me to Drew Schorno's piece about "vestigial shamans" (you can find it here). Balance's singing is not about technique, but at the same time it's not as simple as the boomer-like concept of mojo, either. Balance could barely carry a melody through most of the time, to a point where some Coil tracks sound like they'd benefit heavily from a guest vocalist; early on, I believe, Coil — perhaps Balance himself — must have been convinced that was the case too, and for proof just look at the plethora of external one-off collaborators brought in the fold (among many notable names, one stands tall: the legendary JG Thirlwell). Then you try to actually substitute Balance, or maybe even sing your own version of the track, and it doesn't work anymore*. It simply stops being compelling in a way that is very hard to quantify. Yet another name popping up from the Autechre piece, i.e. that of Tom Waits: it's that lived-life element mixed with the more strictly performance-related aspects of vocal interpretation that makes the difference, sure, but it's about how you cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. Tom Waits achieves this by virtue of his life-long effort to turn into his own character, i.e. by way of sheer commitment to the bit if you're so inclined; Jhonn Balance — ironic that, of these two, he should be the one using an actual pseudonym — does that by simply being a vestigial shaman, a person so profoundly wired for jumping in and out of some other world that he seemed, for better or for worse, to be unable to stop doing that.

*There is, of course, only one exception to this rule, and that is Rose McDowall, i.e. most likely a vestigial shaman herself, at least judging by her Facebook. I am lucky enough to be her virtual friend on there, and she seems like an incredibly endearing person — speaking frankly, I'd love to buy her a drink and have a conversation at one point…

The shamanicity (is that even a word?) of Coil is stunningly matched by the sound design and production: so materic it's tangible, so abstract it forces you to wonder what's on the other side of the door. You don't always want to know. In the summer of 2016 I was listening to Batwings in a dark room, for some reason, and there was a crucifix in this room; I shone a flashlight on it and the crucifix projected its shadow on the wall and at that point I very distinctly felt something powerfully trying to make its way through my ribs, into my chest. I immediately left the room. To this day this remains the sole thing in my entire life that made me firmly and unequivocally grasp possibilities beyond what we see normally. And as much as I love waxing poetic over Balance's lyrics and vocals, in this case I believe it was mostly the repetitive, simple keyboard figure — it's almost as if they'd managed to shrink down a church organ and you could now play it, volume obviously adjusted for size, within your breast pocket. But the whole array of clicks and pops, or the insanely advanced vocal processing, displayed throughout the Musick to Play in the Dark/Moon's Milk era really elevates the composition and arrangements to new heights, making them a true spectacle to listen to even on the most low-specs sound systems.

The beautiful thing is that Coil doesn't necessarily need the extra bells and whistles and, more importantly, that they know when and where to use them. This is on display throughout most of their discography, but nowhere is it clearer than on The Ape of Naples, a posthumous record that is entirely built to represent Balance's aural eulogy. One of the most overlooked tracks on the record, I'd argue, is Tattooed Man, basically a simple pop song revolving around laid-back percussion and a simple accordion melody — until, of course, Balance himself intervenes almost shouting a tale of dead lookalikes, of love and hate, of self-image and acceptance (or lack thereof) of finality. It's hard to explain why this track would be more touching to me than the more openly emotional Fire of the Mind (link) (which has one of the best opening verses in the history of recorded music, if you ask me) or Going Up (my main issue with this one is that it comes after Teenage Lightning and Amber Rain, both incredible tracks that scarred me for life — in a positive way, but I do realize its necessity in the economy of the full record of course. It just is). I guess it's touching to find that at the end of the line, even resolute spiritworld straddlers get a bit scared of their own powers. But after all, the main requisite for being a shaman is feeling more than the others — being, maybe, more human than the others.

[sophieswundergarten]

Considering Book Rhonda once again, and how in the beginning of TPJ she's probably, what? In her early twenties at most? And she had to deal with her dad and older sister disappearing/being kidnapped by the man they all know wouldn't hesitate to hurt them all on her own, not to mention the agents showing up and trying to take over.

Milligan was away on a mission, and all of the other adults were living in different cities at that point, so she was well and truly by herself, probably for around six hours to a full day, with the knowledge that her family was captured.

Imagine all the worst-case scenarios she would have come up with, all the fear and doubt and anxiety over these people she loves so dearly being in peril, and then the fact that she had to hide all that and command respect from the government agents who had been hounding them for months to give up control of the situation. Those agents probably saw her as a young, inexperienced assistant to Mr. Benedict (As it wasn't super likely they would want to share the familial connection with pushy government people), and assumed she'd be grateful to hand the reins to people who "knew what they were doing".

But Rhonda had to stand her ground and try and manage everything on her own. Even though Milligan was coming, there was always a possibility that his mission would delay him, and she explicitly tried to tell the others not to come. Of course, there's a bit of a difference between Milligan who knows everything and has been living/working with her for years and the childrens' parents who may or may not be able to help that much, but it still would have been a comfort to have back up.

And, on top of all that going on and the situation being absolutely terrifying, she had Constance to look out for. Despite being a genius, she's still a little girl, and I'd bet most of those government agents didn't give a hoot about speculating the gruesome possibilities in front of her. Rhonda would of course want to protect her baby sister from all of that, but it must have been so much to manage. When the others get there, Constance snaps that she'd spent the whole morning hiding in her room crying, and I just think it would have been heartbreaking for Rhonda to want to go comfort her (And probably cry some too), but have to keep handling the agents who underestimate her and act like they know what they're doing when they really don't have all the information.