#if this works out ill likely be able to close my flock for a bit

[homeofhousechickens]

Laying on my bed kicking my feet thinking about the hatching eggs I'm getting

[rrasado]

• Paternal Wishes •

This is for the fatherless girlies out there 😔-/HEAVYLHJ My dearest genshin anon I wish you knew how many fatherless jokes I made behind the screen as a I typed this piece, as a Diluc kinnie I have bullying rights ok-

⚠️ Mentions of Death ⚠️

Taglist: @luvielle @citirusu

Diluc is a callous man, that was probably a wayward adjective most can silently agree on when it comes to describing the Ragnvindr Master. But when he found a special someone to settle with a decade ago everyone collectively agreed that something changed within him. It wasn’t an obvious effect of domestic life nor was it a fatigue specially gotten when tending to your family rather, a relieved glint within his gaze whenever his attention was unoccupied by his usual work.

Then came the day that another close beloved left him behind, the grief reopened past wounds that no one dared remind besides his ever elusive “brother”. The fire his vision ignited became dangerously desperate, it wasn’t the mighty flame that stretched its blazing wings across the air but an avian who departed from its flock too early, desperately flying away to try and find its kindred within the cruel night’s wind.

The line of nostalgia came to a halt when he snapped his gaze away from the candle light, sighing as he averted his scarlet gaze back to where you sat, a bright youngster who couldn’t keep their nose out of a book and Diluc didn’t mind this one bit. The Ragnvindr blood had always been a dominant gene, and you proudly showed off the bright red locks you inherited from your dear father, but your smile and the way your eyes glinted with excitement was unmistakably gotten from your passed parent. Something Diluc had always said he moved on from, but white lies can’t go against burning red, right?

And if he endured that grief to this day then what more would you have to bear should he also fall into the clutches of an untimely death. Such a pessimistic line of thinking made him question how late it was but realistically speaking who do you have left besides him? Sure you were well loved by the people of Mondstat and you have your fair share of friends your age, and he knew deep within his heart that your Auntie Jean wouldn’t neglect you with his wishes but then again she was in the same risk of deathly peril as he was. Barbara? A respectable role model for his child one he wouldn’t mind you looking up to as both an Idol and a familial figure.

“Papa? Do you wanna read?”

Diluc snapped out of his trance, your youthful voice brought him back to reality after staring off into space for a minute too long. You seemed to have taken it as him eyeing your fairy tail book and after working for so long today maybe he wanted to consume something more fictitious rather than the mundane paperwork? That’s what you thought at least.

The older redhead only replied with a dry chuckle, standing up ever so slowly before approaching your much smaller figure and hoisting you and your book up in order for him to slip into your seat— garnering your figure to make rest on his lap. His words of assurance towards your question managed to tug a smile on your expression.

The book you held was a special gift from Lisa for your last birthday, a beige leather book that had a compilation of children’s fairy tales. The current story you were reading was that of a Fairy kingdom where the royal heir goes on adventures with the aid of a holy songstress, an other worldly pirate, a northern toy maker and a benevolent kitsune. Meeting all these people reminded Diluc that perhaps you had a brighter future compared to what his intrusive thoughts entailed. You were currently at the part where the royal heir had finally returned to their kingdom not knowing that their father the King had grown ill.

Diluc grimaced at the scene especially when your innocent mind pointed out how much it sucked that the Heir wasn’t able to spend much time left with their papa. In an attempt to stop you from going down a dimmer line of thinking like he did, he took the reins and began reading for you. You’ve always been unconventionally bright, perhaps you just got it from both parents, something he’s simultaneously cursing and thankful for. And so on he read with the gentlest tone he could muster lest he fail his attempt.

“Even when the fairy king became one with the flowers… He’d always watch over his child, from young royal to a proud monarch. Plucking a flower from the ground is rather… iffy but, know that the absence gives new space for something only the royal child can make. One day you’ll make something of your own and when you do, many people will be there to cheer you on” “Really?” “Of course sweetheart.”

Soon enough you finally retired to your quarters, book clutched within your arms as Diluc pulled your thermal blanket over your figure. He softly shut the mahogany door before turning on his heel to trudge back to his office, passing by the foyer’s open window where he had a perfectly good view of the star littered sky above. Deep down he wished it was him instead of his beloved, he shook those thoughts away allowing his gaze to linger a little longer whilst his thoughts slowly drowned back into the plane of what ifs.

His comrades, his family, his allies, he truly hoped that one day you’ll have your own chosen kindred just like him, ones who wouldn’t allow your hopes and dreams to fall and shatter on the ground into unfixable pieces. That was wishful thinking— even with his current efforts, the world as is was crueler. He ought to send a more realistic wish, one where he hoped that one day you would have people to help you pick up your pieces. A young flame as bright as yourself can pull it off… This was a fact he can count on even beyond the grave. 

“Dawn always comes… and until then, sleep well, dear.”

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 7

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to pretend to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader 

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @fadesbrina, @sweetlyblushedbouquet, @streetfighterrichie, @thatguppienamedbae, @wolfiepirate, @okbwtch, @sinnerskies, @broimjustvibin 

Description: The night of the Yule Ball has arrived and you have no plans to attend. Until a familiar face shows up and urges you to reconsider.

                                                          X

It was the night of the Yule Ball and you weren’t going. Once the school got word of your “breakup” with George it was all anyone could talk about. You became the bad guy, ridiculed for breaking such a sweet guy’s heart. The only slightly positive side to your uncoupling was that George was now the school’s most eligible bachelor. Every girl was vying for him now and even Fred was reaping some of these benefits. Girls figured if they couldn’t have George, Fred was the next best thing. You had to admit, you were surprised that Angelina and George weren’t the school’s next big couple. They were spending a lot more time together but there was little evidence of any exclusivity. Perhaps they were keeping it a secret just for the thrill of it. 

At the end of the day, you were feeling lower than ever. You were upset with yourself for messing things up with George. You shouldn’t have snapped at him and should have just talked rationally about the situation. But it was too late. The worst part was, hanging out with your usual group wasn’t fulfilling. You didn’t feel like you belonged with them any more and you started spending more and more time alone. 

You didn’t even want to think about the Yule Ball. This was a once in a lifetime event and you weren’t even going. You received no other escort offers after George and you split, not that you would have accepted any. 

Somehow you were coerced into going to the common room to gawk over all the dresses and see everyone off. You gave your most genuine smile and compliments as girl after girl twirled around and tried to hide their excitement. Once the last few had left, you pulled out a book and got comfortable in a corner armchair. The plan was to read a few chapters and head to bed early, quite the exciting night.

“Hey stranger,” you heard from behind. You turned around and saw an old friend standing behind you.

“Fred. Hey.” You were shocked to see him standing there in his finest dress robes. “Don’t you look dapper?”

“While I appreciate the compliment, I’m actually in a bit of a situation and I could use your assistance.” You were surprised that he was being so nice to you. You hadn’t spoken to him at all since you ended things with George.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” By this point he circled around the armchair and took a seat on the ottoman in front of you.

“You see, I was supposed to go to the ball with this lovely girl from Beauxbatons but unfortunately she’s fallen ill and is unable to attend.”

You knew where this was going, “And…”

“And I didn’t get dressed up like this for nothing. “

“So go? I don’t understand where I fall in all of this.”

“Y/N, I can’t show up stag. That’s just not my style. Besides, I was hoping we could have a very public break up and more girls would flock to me,” he said with a smile. You were unamused by his mocking comment. You closed your book and stormed off. “Y/N, wait I was just joking.”

“Ha ha.” 

He lightly grabbed your wrist and kept you from moving further, “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Do you really want to miss out on this though? I know you’ve been upset about this whole situation but maybe this will help you take your mind off of things.”

“I don’t know, Fred. I really don’t want to be gossiped about any more. I’m not sure it would be a great look to show up to the ball with my ex’s twin brother.”

“Don’t worry so much about what other people think of you. Look, I know we’ve had some issues the past few months, but I can’t let you stay here by yourself and miss out on this opportunity.”

“I don’t have a dress,” you used, as the only excuse you could really think of.

“I’ll take care of it. Just promise me you’ll go?”

 You thought for a moment, unsure of what to say. It was the first time you felt like someone cared about you in a while. 

“…Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” he held out his arm to you. “Let’s go get you a dress.”

You made your way down the empty halls, seeing as everyone was already at the ball. You had a sneaking suspicion as to where you were going. Fred stopped in front of the Room of Requirement and opened the door, allowing you to enter first. When you stepped inside the room was filled with racks of formal dresses of all style and color. 

“Wow, I never thought to use this place as my own personal closet. There must be hundreds of dresses here.”

“I figured you’d be able to find something here,” he took a seat on a plush ottoman located near a three way mirror.

“Are you going to sit there or are you going to help me sift through these dresses?” He looked up cluelessly at you before finally making his way toward a rack. 

“What sort of dress are we looking for here?” he asked, slowly looking through the gowns. You didn’t really have anything in mind, you just figured you would know it when you saw it. 

“I don’t really know, just something I would look good in I guess.”

“Y/N, you would look good in all of these.”

“No need to flatter me Fred, I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m serious. You always look great in whatever you wear.”

“I wish I felt that way about myself nowadays,” you mumbled.

“You just need to regain your confidence. I think that’s what sets you apart from other people. You are so comfortable in your skin and so sure of who you are. It’s incredibly attractive.”

“Easy tiger. Just because we’re going to the Yule Ball together does not mean we’re going to start dating.”

“That’s not what I’m getting at here. I’m just a friend trying to help out another friend,” he said. This statement seemed a little off but after looking in Fred’s eyes you could tell he was being genuine. Instead of responding you nodded your head and continued skimming through dresses.

“So can I ask what happened between you and George? It all seemed kind of sudden.”

“You mean he hasn’t told you?” you asked.

Fred shook his head, “He’s made it very clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” you said. That surprised you. 

“Well, it all started when Roger dumped me. I was upset and I didn’t want to lose him. I had detention with George and he sort of planted this idea that I needed to make Roger jealous. We made a plan to act like we were an item so that Roger would want me back and George would seem like boyfriend material. But we made a rule that either one of us could break off the fake fling whenever for whatever reason,” you paused, picking up a dress that you thought maybe could work, but you put it back realizing it wasn’t right. “George was absolutely perfect. He made our story seem realistic and he did all these cute things for me. I forgot that we weren’t even a real couple. It got to the point where I didn’t even want Roger back, but I didn’t want to stop hanging out with George.”

“What happened then?”

“The night after the first task, when there was that party in the common room, I…ugh…I accidentally walked in on George and Angelina making out in the stairwell. And it hurt. I think it would’ve been easier if he just told me, instead of me walking in on them. The next morning I kept things simple with him and cut it off quickly. He was fighting it and I sort of snapped and said some things I shouldn’t have. And he hasn’t talked to me since.” It was just then you noticed a single tear was dripping down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, hoping Fred didn’t see your vulnerability, but he did.

He stopped searching through the rack and looked at you with clarity in his eyes. It was like everything finally made sense to him. Before he could speak, you interjected.

“I understand if you’re upset, but please don’t be upset with George. It was my idea not to tell you. I wanted your reaction to everything to be genuine. I felt like that was going to sell our story better. And I’m sorry if I created tension between you and George. That was never my intention. I never wanted to hurt him. I think...I think I love him.”

“Y/N, you’ve got this situation all wrong,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

Fred let out a small chortle, “That wasn’t George in the stairwell with Angelina, it was me.”

You furrowed your brows, “No, it had to have been George. She made a comment about easing the tension between you. That had to have been about me.”

He shook his head again, “I’d been feeling a bit tense acting as the third wheel all the time. Angelina was saying that with us together, I wouldn’t have to tag along with the two of you.”

Your jaw dropped, “Oh my god…”

“George never had a thing for Angelina, it’s always been you darling.”

You let out a long sigh and hung your head, “Oh I really fucked up.” 

“Look, when you and George first started dating, I had some hesitations. For good reason it seems. But I’ve never seen George happier than when he was with you. And you seemed pretty happy with him. If you really love him, which I suspect you do, you need to tell him. I wouldn’t be up here with you now if I didn’t care about you and my brother. It’s your move now”

“When did you become so insightful?”

“Please, I’ve always been this way. Now hurry up, let’s get you to the ball”

“I just need to find a dress…”

“Oh I have the perfect dress already. I just needed you to fill me in on everything.”

“What? So we’ve been wasting time looking through all these dresses for nothing.”

“Hey, relax. I had good intentions. Now go put this on.” He handed you a white high neck halter dress. The collar featured strands of thin gold chains that fell right on your collarbone. The dress was open back and had a slit up the front that reached just above your knee. It was simple, but stunning. You slipped behind a curtain to try it on and the dress fit you perfectly. You emerged from the makeshift dressing room and Fred was waiting there with a pair of peep toe gold heels. 

“So, does it look okay?”

“See for yourself,” he turned you towards the full length mirror. You  let out a sly smile when you saw your reflection. 

“You look incredible,” Fred said. He placed the heels on the ground and helped you to step into them. You pinned back some of your hair and found a pair of dangly gold earrings to put in. Once you quickly put on some basic makeup, you were ready to go. Your stomach was turning at the potential of seeing George but you had to face your nerves. You knew Fred was right and that you had to tell George how you felt, or else you would always wonder what if.

“You ready to go?”

“I guess so…” you muttered. Fred put a friendly arm around you and steered you out of the room.

[andromedasstarship]

faceless, nameless - the prologue

gif credit - @kylos 

pairing - kylo ren x reader 

warnings - canon-typical star wars violence, depictions of death/violence, fighting (verbal + physical), loosely implied physical intimacy (really up for interpretation here), angst, tension, implied mild love triangle, kylo ren betrays you 

summary - For four years, Kylo Ren considered you to be many things: his right hand, his confidant, an irreplaceable strategist, a friend and most importantly his equal. It all ended when he left you with a blaster shot to the stomach on a near deserted planet. On the brink of death, a rather dashing Resistance Pilot stumbled upon you, saving your life.  

Donning a mask to hide your identity, you’ve grown to become the most fearsome Resistance fighter they have; bewildering the First Order as to how you always seem to ruin their plans and avoid capture. Kylo Ren is a different man from when he left you two years ago, so how will he react when he accidentally finds you alive and well in Poe’s memories?

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3 here 

next chapter 

-----

the prologue - the sun 

On Starkiller Base, there were plenty of rumors as to why Kylo Ren kept you around. Some said it was because of your extensive training in hundreds of different languages, both spoken and signed. Others were sure it was due to your diplomatic upbringing that came with countless connections and near endless wealth. Or, maybe it was due to your more than adequate ability in battle that served him the most. Even some people thought you were a kept woman, who only existed as a way for Kylo Ren to blow off steam behind closed doors. Your favorite rumor was that you were actually a high-ranking Resistance spy who was tasked with infiltrating the First Order at the highest level and that Kylo Ren had become weak because of you. Had it not made you laugh so much the first time you heard it, Kylo would’ve crushed the windpipe of the lowly officer who created the elaborate lie. 

Of course, there were some truths in all the rumors, but none of them exciting. You were in fact trained in hundreds of languages and that training was a product of your diplomatic upbringing. You were exceptionally trained in various forms of combat, but that was something that came after you met Kylo; he had always been afraid of you not being able to properly defend yourself. You were most certainly not a kept woman, not that you and Kylo weren’t intimate, but certainly not in the type of dynamic people thought. You absolutely were not a Resistance spy, but even though neither of you said it aloud, Kylo Ren was definitely weak for you. 

How it actually happened is quite boring. The two of you met when Kylo had just turned 24, still more Ben Solo than Kylo Ren. You were recently 23 at the time, head of a diplomatic welcoming committee that met with Kylo as part of his first official diplomatic endeavor as ‘Kylo Ren’ the soon to be Commander of the entire First Order. He quickly became enamored with you and the way you commanded a team full of older men who clearly didn’t approve of your position- whether it was due to your age or gender he didn’t know- but still treated you with respect; in short, you radiated a confidence and power he desired. For you, it was quite the opposite, Kylo Ren still wasn’t sure of himself and at times still acted like the awkward lanky Jedi boy who had never spoken to a girl outside of school purposes. He was a fresh and welcomed change from all the annoyingly rich and cocky men you met with on a daily basis. 

Him and his team stayed on your home planet for nearly three months. Countless delegates from various planets flocked there for balls, meetings, conferences, and more. Your connections ran deep and you directly aided in the First Order’s successes during those three months. For the first few weeks, you and Kylo skirted around the obvious pull between the two of you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to ‘woo’ a girl, nor was he even sure if he was allowed to. His lack of action caused you to regularly doubt if he also felt the spark, or if it was completely one sided on your end. Weeks of longing gazes and accidental brushes of fingertips finally came to an end when the two of you were sitting on your private balcony, overlooking the well kept grounds, discussing the conference that had just ended. It was a roaring success for your planet as well as the First Order, both of you securing mining resources at an exceptional locked rate for a minimum of fifty basic years. You made the first move, he was irresistible under the moonlight, closing the space between you on your bench and pressing your lips directly on his. In his hesitation you thought you had completely misread the past month, but it was only a moment later that his hands found purchase in your hair, pulling you closer. The two of you were nearly inseparable for the rest of his trip. 

It was difficult, when he finally had to return to his new master and some massive ship that would be lightyears away from you. Unspoken promises were made the night before he left, declarations of love and devotion made behind closed doors. He was still far from truly becoming Kylo Ren, had copious amounts of training to finish before he would see himself be fitting for someone like you. If he was nothing else, Kylo was desperate for loyalty and when you watched his ship leave you had no doubts he would come back. 

And he did, nearly an entire standard year later. You almost didn’t recognize him when he stepped off his personal ship. All broad shoulders and shrouded in layers of black, with that intimidating mask covering his face. He was proving to be quite the warrior, the tales of him and the Knights he commanded reaching the farest edges of the galaxy. When the welcoming festivities had ended and he removed his mask in the privacy of your room, you found a mature face that had lost the softness you once knew. It was no matter to you, flinging yourself into his arms and vowing to never let go. 

This time, when he left, you went with him of course. Kylo had been shocked when Snoke approved it, but Snoke, ever the manipulator, knew the growing attachment between the two of you would inevitably prove to be valuable in controlling Kylo Ren. 

Moving into a giant spaceship wasn’t easy for you. The dark, cold and everlasting expanse of space was a sharp contrast to your warm ocean planet. You missed the sun on your face and your people, but when you vowed to never let him go, you meant it. As time went on, you grew accustomed to the ship and then eventually Starkiller- which was an entirely different battle, that piece of ice had you complaining for months-, and soon enough you couldn’t imagine a life not in space. 

Most of your days were monotonous, not that you minded. From the first day you stepped foot onto base, Kylo began training you himself. He never wanted you to feel as hopeless and afraid as he did when he woke up to his uncle ready to kill him in his sleep. So he trained you, and he trained you hard. You could wield a lightsaber well enough, as he argued that should anything ever happen to him- a thought you hated entertaining-, his saber would be the best weapon you had available. You were smaller than him, so close combat was a challenge but you learned to use your size and agility as an advantage. What you specialized in, was the staff. It allowed you to give a larger opponent at a safe range until it was possible to take them down. Kylo had a special one created just for you, with double edged electrical ends that you could easily turn on or off. It was rare that he actually let you on a battlefield with him, but when he did you were unstoppable. Not that you minded, you quite enjoyed working behind the scenes, forming battle plans and leading diplomatic endeavors for the First Order. 

Other than Snoke, no one out ranked you, not even Ren; a fact he had been extremely particular about after a visiting diplomat made the excuse of outright ignoring and belittling your presence in a meeting. You were equals in everything, even going as far as taking on the ‘Ren’ moniker. 

Among First Order subordinates, you were fairly well liked, and not just because it was unspoken that anyone who thought badly of you would probably die at Ren’s hand. The people actually liked you. Ren was cold, you were warm. When he was sharp, you were soft. It worked well, his ability to command troops and fuel the fires of war was complimented perfectly by your ability to talk nearly anyone to your side. 

You never wavered in your support for him, ever loyal by his side no matter what he did or who he killed or how many villages he burned to the ground. You stood next to him, never behind, when new planets presented themselves as potential allies. You watched from above when he burned villages, that dared aid the Resistance, to the ground. You cleaned and healed every single wound he received from Snoke’s brutal training. You held him together when the pull to the light made him feel weak and undeserving. 

Anyone could see that you were the sun that Kylo Ren revolved around.  

So, when he came back to Starkiller on that fateful day, covered in blood- your blood-, announcing that you were dead- and he was the one who killed you-, and that your name was never to be uttered on his base or by any First Order subordinate ever again, no one knew what to do. 

-----

 a/n - hi!!! im so excited for this story, ive never written star wars before and my lore knowledge isnt the best ill admit, so please excuse any minor bits of pieces i may get wrong! comments/likes/reblogs always appreciated. if you wanna be added to the taglist, just ask and ill make one! :D 

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own star wars or any of the character involved in it. 

[stufftippywrote]

day off

22: “You make me so happy.” From this prompt list...

Lan Wangji is not a perfect soul.

He knows his own reputation. To others, he is a lake of glass: unwavering, unmoving, still and perfect against the travails of life. More than anything, he has mastered his own body. His movements, his expressions are precise. Not an eyelash out of place; barely a twitch of his lips, sometimes, when he is stirred by emotion. He is snowfall on a mountaintop: always constant, always undisturbed.

But beneath the snowfall, beneath the glass, turmoil.

Less so today than before: before there was distress, urgency, fear of losing what he'd only so recently regained. Now, for the most part, there is peace and joy. But what remains, still, is doubt.

Wei Ying loves him. That in itself should solve every problem, open every door. He is able to take this man who captured his heart a lifetime ago and hold him, touch him, speak with him every day. Where the frost had seeped into Lan Wangji's heart, Wei Ying has melted it, and every day now it is springtime: tender, beautiful, full of life and possibility.

But spring is also fleeting, and sometimes Lan Wangji wonders.

Can someone like Wei Ying truly be happy, passing his days in Cloud Recesses?

Can he spend his days in a place of four thousand rules, bound to the same surroundings every day, teaching the same students, bound to the same room, the same man, the same bed? Should Wei Ying be living a freer life than Lan Wangji can give him? Shouldn't he be running on rainbows to the seven corners of the earth, helping the downtrodden and winning hearts as he goes, turning the legend of the Yiling Patriarch into a story of redemption and heroism? Sometimes it seems a shame, even to Lan Wangji, that he stays here.

But stay here he does, save nighthunts to and fro with the others and occasional jaunts down the mountain just because. He never complains when Lan Wangji joins him. There is no doubt there; Lan Wangji can be sure, at the very least, that Wei Ying truly loves him.

But is loving him enough to keep him happy?

This morning, he fears it is not.

They're having breakfast. Wei Ying pokes at his rice unhappily, not eating very much, which is always a troubling sign. The never troubled, always glad face of Wei Ying is pinched with some discontent. Perhaps it is as he fears. He fumbles for a way to cheer him. "Wei Ying," he says, unsure, "Do you want to take a trip?"

Wei Ying shakes his head and stares balefully at the plate of vegetables before him. "No," he says, "not really."

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Wei Ying says automatically, and then sighs. "Maybe I had a bad dream."

"Maybe?" And maybe that's all it is, but Lan Wangji can't see that look on Wei Ying's face without thinking there's something more. "What will you do today?"

Wei Ying gestures vaguely to his writing-desk in the corner. "I suppose I'll probably work some more on the energy map I've been developing," he says. "Then I guess I'll do some meditation, try to get this weak little core of mine a bit more bulked up. Or maybe I'll just take the day off.”  He lets out another, resigned sigh. "It's really useless, Lan Zhan. I'm never going to be what I was."

"You will, in time," Lan Wangji starts to say, then falls silent. His words must be so little comfort to Wei Ying, who has been trying to improve on the weakness of Mo Xuanyu's golden core for months now. Lan Wangji had encouraged him, seeing it as the obvious path to take, trying to cultivate back to his former self. But perhaps it is more frustrating, and less satisfying, than he had anticipated. Perhaps it's only holding him back.

This place, these Cloud Recesses, are such an ideal place for cultivation. But if cultivation isn't what Wei Ying desires -- if being here isn't what he desires -- Lan Wangji has no right to hold him back.

He coughs softly.

Wei Ying blinks at him. "What?"

"If you want to travel," Lan Wangji says, carefully as always, "you should travel."

"What's with asking me about traveling?" Wei Ying half-smiles. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Lan Zhan?"

"No." But he must qualify that answer as well; he must make sure Wei Ying feels free. "But if you wish to go..."

"I don't." Wei Ying picks up a radish slice with chopsticks and crunches down on it decisively. "I'm not sure why you think I do."

Lan Wangji is ashamed. He seems to have incurred Wei Ying's irritation. He's fouled this up, when his only intention has been to let Wei Ying know he is free to pursue his dreams wherever they may lead him. He is silent, placing his chopsticks down on the table and staring expressionlessly at his meal. He shouldn't be speaking while eating anyway.

Wei Ying leans back and gazes at him for a long moment. "Lan Zhan," he says hesitantly, "why are you so sure all of a sudden that I want to go?"

The shame doesn't show on his face, but Lan Wangji feels it acutely. "I want Wei Ying to be happy," he says.

"But I'm happy!" Wei Ying laughs, but it's not the full, open-throated laugh that Lan Wangji is used to. There's something strained in his smile.

"You did not seem so," he points out.

The smile fades as quickly as it appears. Wei Ying crosses his arms. "I really did have a bad dream," he says, the consonants of his speech sharp as he rasps over them. "I'm always going to have bad dreams. It's the curse of the Yiling Patriarch. I have too many regrets to always sleep soundly. And the cultivation does get me down, I won't lie. I feel as though you're still waiting for me to become something I'm not."

"I'm not," Lan Wangji speaks as swiftly as he can. "If you no longer wish to cultivate, then stop."

"I don't want to stop, necessarily," Wei Ying says. "I want to live a long life with you. But I can't say I'm going to be successful at it, even with time. And I don't want you to settle."

"I want Wei Ying just as he is." The words can't rush from his mouth fast enough, but with them comes regret -- are these words binding cords? Do they trap Wei Ying in an existence that is not his ideal? "I fear you are settling."

Wei Ying looks at him a long time without speaking. Lan Wangji feels that gaze boring into him, like a pike being driven through his chest. Wei Ying's mind works fast, and in ways Lan Wangji often cannot follow. Who knows what he's thinking right now.

And then, like a bright rush of sunshine, that laugh. Full-voiced now, sounds flying into the air like a flock of birds, noisy and raucous and everything that is good. "I see," he says. "I see now. Oh, Lan Zhan, I thought I had the market cornered on self-torture, but you are good at it too, when you are given too much time to think." He takes one of Lan Wangji's hands into his own, nimble fingers caressing his skin. A blessed touch. "I'm happy here," he says. "I'm not sure how you decided otherwise, but I promise I am."

"Why?" Lan Wangji asks.

"Why what?"

"Why are you happy here?" The question seems to Lan Wangji to be an obvious one, but Wei Ying looks at him as though he's speaking in an alien tongue. "What about this place makes you happy?"

"What doesn't?" Wei Ying counters. "The scenery, being close to A-Yuan and the others, a truly insane number of books I can look through in my work, the back hill, the waterfall..."

"The rules?" Lan Wangji asks. "The food?"

"See, now you're just picking the things you know I'm not fond of." Wei Ying props his chin up on his free hand and gazes at Lan Wangji across the table. "You're forgetting something very important."

Lan Wangji blinks. What has he not accounted for? "Something important?"

Wei Ying sighs. He drops his chopsticks, stands up, and rounds the small table, planting himself awkwardly in Lan Wangji's lap. The crush of his weight and the sweet smell of him, all of a sudden everywhere, and Lan Wangji's impulse is to clutch on tightly. He wills his hands to remain still.

"You," Wei Ying says. "You're forgetting about you."

"Me?" It's not as though Lan Wangji doubted, but he hadn't considered... he hadn't thought he was enough to tip the scales.

"You. You make me happy, Lan Zhan. You make me so happy." Wei Ying kisses his jaw, caresses his face with a hand. "Don't you know that?"

Lan Wangji is silent. Wei Ying's words are echoing in his ears. You make me so happy. How could he? He tries, but how could he really when Wei Ying's heart is big enough to embrace an entire universe?

Wei Ying buries a laugh in Lan Wangji's shoulder. "Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he berates, "it's you who's settling! Look at me, so weak, determined to keep my wicked ways. You'll never make a proper cultivator out of me, no matter how long and how hard you try. Aren't I the very picture of disappointment? It's a wonder you can keep me around."

"Stop." Lan Wangji scowls. "Stop. Don't say these things."

"Do they sound ridiculous to you? Do you see now how you sound to me?" Wei Ying winds his arms around Lan Wangji's neck. "I'm not leaving you, Lan Zhan. You couldn't kick me out with a whole army of little Lans behind you. So you might as well stop trying."

Lan Wangji is a little embarrassed. He had been so worried about Wei Ying's ill temper and so lost in his own imaginings that he'd concocted a whole universe of discontent. He lifts a hand and tangles it in Wei Ying's hair, savoring the feel of soft silk against his fingers. "Wei Ying makes me happy, too," he says.  "So very happy."

Wei Ying leans in and dots a kiss onto his lips, small and perfect. "So you'll give up then on telling me to go away?"

"Mn." For the first time this morning, he feels tethered again, sure of himself.

"And if I ever do want to go somewhere," Wei Ying says, "I want you to come with me."

"Anywhere Wei Ying wants to go."

"How about lunch in town, then?" Wei Ying lifts one of Lan Wangji's chopsticks from the table and pokes at the pile of withered vegetables. "Because as happy as I am, breakfast is not one of Cloud Recesses' high points."

"Mn. Lunch." There it is, that sense of sureness, that gentle delight that he's so used to feeling in Wei Ying's presence. He'd lost sight of it, somehow, but it's back and Wei Ying loves him and Wei Ying wants to stay with him and he needs nothing else in the entire universe. "Wherever you like."

"And I still intend to cultivate," Wei Ying says. "But perhaps, just this once, I'll take a day off." Lan Wangji nods. "Maybe I can convince you to dally with me a few hours in town? Unless you have terribly important lessons to impart and terribly important papers to grade."

"Nothing terribly important."  He lets his lips turn up in just that way that only Wei Ying gets to see.

"Good, then I'm skipping the rest of breakfast."

Lan Wangji frowns. "Don't waste food."

Wei Ying claps his hands. "Oh, there you are, Lan Zhan! I had thought you'd gone missing for  second."

He crawls out of Lan Wangji's lap and back onto his side of the table. They finish breakfast in pleasant silence, sunlight streaming in through the window. It's the perfect time to take a day off.

[monomonomagines]

Could I get a thing where peko, Souda, ryoma and gundam were sleeping with their s/o only to wake up to their s/os cat standing on them and just staring at them?

Thank you so much for giving me such a hilarious and cute request, Anon. I personally enjoy all of these characters as well so this was an absolute joy to write. I hope that you’ll enjoy it and if I happened to goof anything up, feel free to tell me and I’ll fix it up for you immediately!

Peko

Peko was used to animals running from her or being skittish around her as most were intimidated by her scary looks. She was used to it, but still, she had hoped that this wouldn’t be the case when it came to her own S/o’s cat.

Anytime she’d even walk into a room though, the cat would normally end up nearly leaping across the entire room just to get away from her, crying out loudly as though it were scared she’d hurt it or more rarely ducking under any furniture it’d find close enough to hide from her with.

However, rather than act as dejected as she felt she simply paid it no mind, not showing that it did actually weigh on her a bit as she went to sleep next to you, falling into a peaceful lull where such thoughts wouldn’t bother her.

That is until she felt a strange weight on her chest. She knew it couldn’t be a person, it was too heavy and while her job as a bodyguard to Fuyuhiko had prepared her for an ambush she had to admit she was certainly perplexed.

Was it some sort of object? As she shot open her eyes though she wasn’t met with the sight of a person or an object, it was to her surprise your cat standing on her just staring right back at her with wide curious eyes.

Normally Peko wouldn’t show her excitement so much but she couldn’t help but feel a big smile begin to cover her features as your little furry friend was finally calmly looking at her, not even running when her eyes opened to stare right back just as curiously.

She had never been so close to something so soft and couldn’t stop herself from pondering what would happen next.

She wanted to pet it so badly, to be able to feel it’s soft fur on her hands the same way that you always did but she was hesitant about trying, taking a great length of time in solitude with your cat watching her movements as she soon reached out her hand in a slow gentle motion.

That was when it’d run off, she thought, not hoping for much before she felt the warmth of its small body on her palm.

Peko felt as though she could burst from joy as your cat finally began to rub itself on her hand, happy to be receiving so much attention in the dead of the night and before she could even register it she had soon fallen asleep with your cat curled up right on her chest, both happily sleeping away by the time you woke up.

She would certainly wake up with a pep in her step though and be sure to tell you of her great night with a rare smile on her face, even if she couldn’t have shared it with you though.

“It was right on my stomach, S/o. I even got to pet it the way you do and feel how fluffy it is.”

Kazuichi

To say animals hated Kazuichi was no exaggeration. While they feared people like Peko and flocked to Gundham, Kazuichi was often the target of their attacks, causing even trained animals like Gundham’s hamsters and other pets to attack him.

It didn’t get him down too badly of course, since he could still work on his mechanics with no problems (as he clearly wasn’t dealing with anything more than metal) but it certainly didn’t make him any calmer around any other fuzzy friends.

As soon as Kazuichi met your cat, his bold act quickly dissipated, becoming long forgotten as he grew obviously nervous whenever the two of them were in the room together.

Rather than the opposite, Kazuichi would often end up running from your cat only to get attacked by it even when there was no way he could provoke it, making it difficult to get him to even stay over for the night without some attack in the middle of the night waking the two of you up.

It was another one of these exact nights though that Kazuichi happened to drift off next to you, only hoping to get some good uninterrupted sleep.

Your cat often found a way in, even if he shut the door and he was pretty wary normally when he was over, sometimes making it hard to relax but with you in his arms and the two of you getting all warm and snuggly he soon was out for the count.

Or so he thought when he suddenly felt a strange patting on his face. What did you want from him so late in the night though?

As he groggily shot open his eyes with the expectation to see you, he instead saw your cat sitting on him, simply staring at him causing him to nearly have a heart attack.

“What are you doing?” He hisses out, not knowing what to do in his now panicked state.

He was prepared for your cat to be getting ready to pounce on him but rather than do anything it just continued to stare, showing no signs of ill will as it had before.

It was baffling, to say the least for Kazuichi but even if he wasn’t being attacked he still had no clue what to do.

He supposed it was best to wake you up gently so he could show you and maybe figure out what he should do with your little fuzzy baby but as soon as he extended his hand your cat immediately sinks it’s claws into him finally causing him to cry out loud enough to wake you as he has done other nights.

“Are you kidding me!? I thought you were being nice to me finally!?”

Gundham

It was no surprise that your cat had immediately taken a liking to Gundham given his reputation.

Animals loved him and he loved them just as dearly, making your cat and him nearly inseparable whenever he happened to stay over for the night.

Constantly your cat would have to be snuggled right on him, purring away as he stroked its fur. It didn’t matter whether he was watching TV with you, snuggling, eating dinner, or even using the bathroom.

Regardless, wherever Gundham went, so did your cat, making it no surprise that your cat even had to sleep snuggled up to him.

It was just another night where the three of you were snuggled up and watching movies when Gundham ended up drifting off into a deep slumber with the two of you soon following after.

It wasn’t until early morning before even the sun had arisen to show its face when he woke up. He didn’t make a habit of waking this early usually, but he happened to feel an odd sensation, pulling him out from the realm of dreams.

There was this strange pinprick feeling on his chest and a soft rumbling resounding from the source of pricks.

As Gundham opened his eyes, still half asleep, he hadn’t expected to see much feeling a bit more tired than usual when instead of having a simply odd sensation or having some strange dream, he was instead met with the sight of your cat staring at him as it softened him, purring away.

“What is it you require, feline of the night’s domain?” Gundham inquires, his deep voice still ringing out fairly loudly despite him intentionally speaking softer than usual.

The cat only continued to look at him though, softening away as he stared back with his own quizzical gaze.

“Fine, I suppose you may rest on me but make haste. I wish to get back to my own realm of dreams myself,” he says, speaking as though he is warning your cat.

He wasn’t angered obviously, he was actually quite delighted to be so loved by your cat as much as he was by you but he also had the desire to get back to sleeping beside you, the only human to be able to get close to him, the Overlord of Ice, Gundham Tanaka.

Ryoma

As cats liked Ryoma as much as he liked them, he had no real qualms with your cat.

Both were fast friends making him not only your designated cat sitter for the days you went on any trips out of town or to a friend’s place but also the one that your cat would snuggle up to when you all went to sleep together.

It was just another typical night with you and Ryoma snuggling up to one another when per usual your cat came up to rub against him and beg for attention, soon situating itself in between the two of you like a kid snuggling up to their parents.

It was much too cute for either of you to be angry, especially when you saw such a rare big smile cross Ryoma’s features as he saw your furry little pal.

He was happy like this, happier than he had been in a while and there was no way you’d ever try to take that happiness from him.

Hence, the three of you ended up soon drifting off to sleep, snuggling up together underneath the plush blankets.

Ryoma wasn’t often woken up at your place, finding it one of the rare places he could relax. However, tonight he felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t know if it was another nightmare or just his anxiety acting up at first but the weight he felt on him was definitely pressing on him without letting up, causing him to open his eyes as he heard a soft meow.

Huh? He felt like he had to have been still dreaming, but rather than seeing the usual things he dreamed of he was met with the gaze of your cat standing right on his chest, making it hard to breathe whatsoever.

“You know, it’s pretty uncool to wake someone up like this,” he jokes, happy to be seeing your cat over his usual demons.

He didn’t want to admit it but he might have been spoiling your cat as he simply moved them to a more comfortable position and began to stroke its fur causing it to soon settle back down, laying in the crook of his neck.

He didn’t know if he could fall back asleep he thought, as he saw the sun filtering in through the blinds, but he knew he was safe at least even if with your cat being needy and staring at him in the middle of the night.

He was safe.

[joezworld]

Fools in Love (5/10)

James And The Diesel Engine

1978

When 46 040 had declared that she would become friends with James, nobody in the sheds had really believed it.

James was vain, occasionally pompous, and immensely suspicious of diesel traction. It was a minor miracle that Bear and BoCo had been accepted by him, and Gordon speculated that it was due to the fact that neither engine was in a role that would displace the red engine.

040 on the other wheel, was in direct competition with him - right down to her shiny red paint. The big diesel had been eager to prove her worth, and had gladly accepted any work that the Fat Controller had given her. This meant that for most of the past year, there had been two red mixed traffic engines on Sodor.

Naturally, James was quite upset by this - he felt that he was being supplanted instead of supported, and tried valiantly to make 040 go away.

Unfortunately for James, 040 was determined to make a friend out of him, and treated him and everyone else with an almost impenetrable level of charm and good cheer that soon ingratiated herself with the other engines.

“She is of good stock.” Gordon said when she came up in discussion.

“A hard worker” was Duck’s assessment.

“Aye, if more diesels were like ‘er, the other railway would work a treat!” This from Douglas - high praise considering his well established and totally understandable dislike of diesels.

When he first met 040, he’d growled at her to ‘stay away’, and after a moment’s reflection, she’d apologized.

“What MPD were you at?” She’d asked after he’d growled at her.

“Glasgow - Eastfield.” He’d replied after a confused moment.

“Yeah, that figures.” She sighed ruefully. “I’m sorry, by the way. They only had enough of the “I hate steam engine” bits for the 45s, so us 46s and 44s never quite understood why everyone was so eager to replace you. Well, everyone except Spamcan, but he’s an arse to everyone.”

“Aye?” Douglas was very surprised.

“Of course. We tried to make them be nice - they certainly didn’t need to be so vicious about it - but once they know you care - well, it’s said that you can smell weakness in someone’s exhaust, so we weren’t treated much better than you were.”

“I... had no idea. Do they truly do that? There’s no’ even unity amongst diesels?”

“Not a whit. At least, not in the Midlands. Don’t worry though - they’re getting what’s coming to them. All three of us Peak classes are ‘non-standard’ now, so they’ll see what it’s like to be on the wrong side of progress soon enough.” Her tone was not light, but neither was it overly dark. She clearly had private opinions on the subject that she wanted to keep private. 

Douglas stared at the big diesel with newfound respect.

James soon found himself in the minority of opinions about 040. His resolve began to waver when she would cheerfully keep her composure even in the midst of a heated argument.

“You’re wrong and I can prove it!”

“How?”

“You haven’t got a boiler! You wouldn’t understand what boiler sludge feels like!”

“Ah! That’s where you’re wrong my steam-powered friend! I do have a boiler - for steam heating! I know exactly what boiler sludge feels like!”

“Cinders and Ashes you are impossible! Why are you so cheerful?!”

“I like arguing with you Jamie, it’s fun!”

“Jamie??!”

-----

One morning, the Fat Controller arrived in the sheds with some important news:

“The Thin Clergyman and his son will be visiting the island once again!” He declared cheerfully.

The engines were surprised. “I thought that he had retired from writing?” Gordon said.

“He has,” explained the Fat Controller. “But his son has decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and will be writing books of his own.”

Most of the engines were excited, but 040 was decidedly not. As soon as the Fat Controller left, her face fell into an uncharacteristic scowl. “I am not appearing in those fucking books.” She said menacingly.

This was arguably more surprising than the news of the Thin Clergyman’s arrival.

“Whyever not?” Asked Henry, who was quite pleased to have stories written about him.

“None of you know this,” She grimaced. “But the only more damaging thing than those books was the fucking Beeching Report! When he wrote about that 08 that tried to cause trouble for Duck, he might as well have thrown a bomb into every yard in the country! Everyone was either saying that we diesels were evil masterminds or that steam engines were idiotic dupes! There was zero civility between engines! Friendships ended! Lives were ruined! Locomotives were scrapped over this! I wasn’t even built then and I still have been forced to deal with it!”

She laughed at the jaw-dropped stares of the other engines. None of them had been on the mainland at that time, and they had no idea of the trouble that had gone on.

“And then there’s one-nine-nine! That nincompoop has gotten every one of us Peaks called a Spamcan! And that’s impressive considering there’s three different classes of us! I didn’t even know what Spam was before that book!”

Silence fell over the sheds for a good while.

“I had no idea...” Gordon eventually said in a small voice.

“I know.” 040 said as she slowly regained her cheery demeanor. “And that’s okay. But I really do not want to be in the books.”

“What’s this about books?” James had been out on an early stopper train, and had missed everything.

“Oh nothing Jamie, do you want to have an argument?”

“No! and stop calling me that!”

“Great! So I think we are actually having an argument right now, but what’s your take on it...?”

-----

The Thin Clergyman arrived onboard Gordon’s express, and was given a warm welcome by the Fat Controller at Tidmouth. Fortunately for 040, Gordon had been able to pass the word on with an earlier train, and she was able to flee the station before the author arrived.

The next week of her life was not unlike a scene from the Benny Hill Show - wherever 040 went, the Thin Clergyman and his son followed.

She ran a parcels train to Barrow - the Thin Clergyman was waiting on the next platform,

She hid behind the Works, only to find his Son riding on Skarloey’s footplate,

At Haltraugh she tried to hide behind Duck - with exactly as much success as one would expect,

The two men starting interviewing engines in the shed, and she was forced to hide amongst the coaches in the yard,

Thomas’ driver unexpectedly fell ill at Tidmouth, and she leapt at the chance to take his train - despite being longer than Annie and Clarabel put together! She made it as far as Elsbridge before curious trainspotters began flocking to take her picture, and she beat a hasty retreat to the main line just before the Clergyman arrived,

The engines at the Kirk Ronan branch were quite annoyed when she tried to squeeze into their shed - she was so big that the door wouldn’t shut!

Planned track work meant that one of the Ballahoo tunnels was closed, and she bluffed her way onto the work train so she could sleep in it. This was an effective hiding spot, until she told Henry, who laughed so loudly that the Thin Clergyman heard the entire story from across the yard,

She even tried sleeping in the electric branch sheds at Peel Godred, but was not only glared at by the very antisocial locomotives who lived there, but also had to hide from both the Thin Clergyman and His Son when they came to see the Culdee Fell Railway.

Finally, there was nowhere left to run - she had managed to find all of these hiding spots while still doing her jobs, but today she was the ‘relief’ engine at Knapford, which meant that she had to sit in the yard all day in case another engine failed.

In full view of the station building.

At midday,  James bustled in with a load of vans for Thomas’ branch line.

“What are you so anxious about?” He asked 040 with a mixture of scorn and surprise. The annoying red diesel was looking positively frantic as her eyes scanned the station building. It was most unlike her.

“Jamie! Hide me!” She hissed as James’ driver uncoupled the vans.

“What?”

“Hide me! Quickly!”

“Why?”

“The Clergyman! He’s right there in the station!”

James looked over, and sure enough, the Thin Clergyman and his son were sitting down to lunch in the station café. “Why?”

“Because he might write something about me!” 040 was frantic.

James was baffled, but remembered Gordon mentioning something about some engines not wanting to be written about. He’d assumed that Edward was just being introverted again, but perhaps there was more to it than that...

He was tempted to do the exact opposite - to blow his whistle, attract attention, and pay back the loudmouth diesel for all of her arguments and nicknames, but when he looked back at her, he realized that 040 was frightened of the Thin Clergyman.

James was many things, but sadistic wasn’t one of them, and he ran around his train and shunted the vans so that 040 was almost entirely obscured from sight.

“Thank you!” She whispered as he backed away.

“Keep it dark,”  He hissed back. “I have a reputation to uphold. And I’ll try and draw his attention to me so he doesn’t go looking for you.”

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you.” She said with a small smile. “You always are the centre of attention!”

James smiled back as he backed into the yard proper, doing his best to make as much noise as he could until he came to a stop at the far end of the yard - as far away from 040 as possible.

His plan worked flawlessly. The Clergyman and his son had been so engrossed in their meal that they hadn’t noticed that any engine was there at all, and quickly made their way across the yard.

Unlike 040, James was always pleased to have someone write about him, and spent the better part of an hour answering the Clergyman’s questions.

“There was one other thing I wanted to know, James.” The Clergyman’s son said after a while. “We’ve been told that there’s a new diesel on the Island, but we can’t seem to find him anywhere!”

“Her.” James corrected before he could stop himself.

“Her?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes. She’s a girl, and she’s quite shy.”

“Really?” The Clergyman said as he scribbled in his notebook. “Can you tell me about her? Or where she is?”

“I don’t want to talk about anyone behind their back...” James said, knowing exactly how often he did just that. “But I saw her going to the works a few hours ago. You might be able to find her there and ask her yourself.”

This pleased the Clergyman and his Son, and they immediately set off in their hire car for the works. James waited until they had vanished from sight before he called out: “They’re gone!”

“Thank God!” 040 shouted from across the yard.

“Don’t thank him! Thank me!” James called back.

“Thank you James! Really, I owe you one now.” James couldn’t see the diesel, but he could somehow tell that she was smiling.

----

040′s luck finally ran out on the last day of the Clergyman’s trip. She was rostered to pull the night express, and didn’t realize that the Thin Clergyman was going to be on board. She almost jumped off the rails when she saw him climbing the stairs to the platform, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he entered the train, and her face fell when she realized that he was merely putting away his luggage before he got out of the train and walked up to her.

“Hello there! I haven’t seen you before!” He said jovially while admiring her paint and stripes.

“I’m new.” She said, trying to keep her tone somewhat polite. The ugly anger rising in the pit of her engine block was making that a very hard thing to do.

“I can see that - you have been quite hard to find!”

“Have I?”

“Very much so, but nevermind that. I was wondering if you would be willing to let myself and my son write about you? You see, we write books abou-”

“I know what your books are about.”

“Oh you do?” The Thin Clergyman said, not missing the sudden undertone in the diesel’s voice.

“Oh yes. And I’m not even talking about Spamcan.” She smiled viciously as the Thin Clergyman winced at that reference.

“Yes, well-”

“I’m not done. I'm talking about the other book you wrote. About the 08? The one that got more than a few engines killed?”

“What?” The author recoiled at the now-undisguised venom in 040′s voice.

“Of course you don’t know. You don’t care about diesels, just your precious steam engines.” She glared at him with undisguised malice. “Do me a favor - take that notebook and go fuck yourself with it - I will never be in one of your books.”

As she said that, the signal dropped, and the guard - who couldn’t see the Clergyman due to a porter’s trolley in the way - blew his whistle.

040 set off immediately, leaving the Thin Clergyman standing on the platform, taking his baggage with her.

-

When the Clergyman’s son started publishing his books several years later, 040 was nowhere to be seen in any of them.

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 18

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, social anxiety, some fluff in there, I think that’s everything.

Word Count: 2219

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

You don't really remember the rest of the flight into California. You slept pretty successfully most of the way,which surprised you a great deal, seeing as you were so nervous about flying to begin with; but the combined nervousness, and lack of sleep last night because of said nervousness, helped you drift off nuzzled safely in Jensen's arms, and knock out without much of an issue.

Jensen gently shook you awake after the plane had landed and was now holding your hand as he guided you through the airport toward the car that was waiting for you all. 

Clif was gracious enough to get everyone's bags and things, so that you all could go hide in the car, safely away from fans. No one wanted to get the fandom's hopes up about a reboot, just in the event that it didn't happen; and every time Jensen and Jared were seen together there was a fresh waive or rumors concerning the return of the show.

You couldn't wrap your head around the way people seemed to flock to them, stalk them, and follow them around to no end. Sitting on the computer for days, looking for a sighting of them. 

Jensen had been slowly introducing you into this lifestyle of being married to someone like him. He'd been taking you on dates and things close to home, and you knew it was only a matter of time before someone posted your picture online, and everyone learned your name. Jensen knew that as well, so he'd been slowly teaching you how to deal with all this madness.

Today, the fans got a picture with you at the airport, so you assumed by now that everyone in the fandom was speculating, and trying to tear you apart bit by bit. That's one reason why you didn't have social media, even though Jensen didn’t mind if you had it or not. He really didn't care for it, but it was necessary because of his line of work, advertising and what not.

You just didn’t want to see it. All the rumors and things that were bound to circulate about you. The way the two of you married wasn’t exactly “normal”, well for most American’s anyway, and you were sure people would still favor his ex wife over you ,even though she was the one that cheated on him. 

No one tried to approach as all of you made your way to the car, while Clif gathered up everyone’s things, and you were grateful for that. You had enough of ‘being out in the wild’ as Jared called it. 

Jensen's phone beeped and he pulled it from his pocket, looking down at it. Your heart started to hammer in your chest at an alarming rate.Was he already getting flack about being married to you? Would the fandom convince him that he should leave you? 

"Looks like they got our rooms  ready for us. All Clif has to do is pick up our keys, and we can go straight there. They said the meeting isn't until tomorrow. So we got today to rest up before the crazy starts."

You sat there looking up at him. His arm wrapped around you the best that he could in the car. 'Before the crazy starts.' What did he mean by that?

"Oh yeah," Jared said, shaking his head like he was amused at Jensen's lack of enthusiasm. "You know tomorrow will be long. Sitting in a room all day, trying to make everyone happy and meet everyone's demands before the show comes back."

Jensen just hummed in agreement, looking out the window as Clif pulled the car off toward the main road, dodging people as he went.

Jensen's phone went off again and he laughed a little before silencing it.

"Looks like Y/N has made quite the impression on the cast already. Felicia, Brianna, Rob, and Richard want us to all meet them for dinner tonight so they can meet her." he said to Jared with what you thought may have been a proud smirk, but you weren't so sure. 

Your heart jumped up in your chest, and you quickly looked down at your lap so that he couldn’t see how nervous you were. Of course he saw right through you. He'd learned your every move. The man was more observant than you gave him credit for.

Squeezing you tighter to him, he puts a light peak on your forehead. "It's okay baby girl, they will love you." 

You half smiled at him and snuggled yourself into his side, thankful for the bucket seats in the back of the SUV. He calms you, even when you feel like everything is raging against you. His warmth, his smell, the way you can lightly hear his heartbeat through his chest keeps you grounded when nothing else seems to be able to.

California was so different than what you had expected it to be. There seemed to be people everywhere. Everything was so bright all the time. The weather was warm, maybe even warmer than Texas, and it was December. Everything seemed a little more free here. 

Upon arrival at the hotel, Clif ran and grabbed everyone's key cards, and once we were all settled into our rooms with little difficulty Jensen came and wrapped his arms around you.

"How are you doing sweetheart? Are you okay today?"

Letting him surround you with his strong arms, and pull you into his chest, you close your eyes and just let him hold you in that moment. You were tired, that was for sure, even though you had slept on the plane. You were stressed.Things were about to change, and the last time things changed a great deal for you, let's be honest, you lost a lot, and your mind felt like it just couldn't keep up with it all. Then there was this dinner thing tonight.

"I’m okay. Jensen, Do you really think this whole meeting your friends for dinner thing and bringing me along is a good idea? I mean, Jared still isn't my biggest fan. What if they all hate me too?"

Jensen placed his forehead on top of yours, making you look him in the eyes. 

"Baby, everything is going to be fine. Jared is coming around. Don't worry about him, and as far as everyone else, they aren't as protective over me as Jared is. So don't worry. Everything will be just fine."

Jensen didn't seem nervous, even though you felt like you wanted to jump out of your skin. Looking down at yourself as he pulled away from you for a moment, you decided that maybe a shower and fixing yourself up a little bit wouldn't hurt. Fans may be out and about, and people knew what you looked like now. So going to the restaurant looking like a hobo wasn't really the best idea probably.

"I'm going to go take a shower, and get ready for tonight." you tell him quietly. He nods, giving you a little bit of space and time to yourself. 

"Okay, I'm going to go call them and see where we all are meeting, and what time they want to meet up. I don't want to be out too late, I want to have some alone time with you tonight."

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

Less than three hours later you found yourself with Jensen sliding his hand in yours as the elevator descended to the bottom floor of the hotel. Jensen said the restaurant that all of you were eating at was walking distance from where you were staying, and you two should be fine just walking, that Jared was going to walk with the two of you as well.

You physically trembled with nerves, but you said nothing, just clung to Jensen's hand like if you let go you'd die.

"Everything is going to be fine Y/N.We've been married now for a while, they're going to love you. We've got a private table in the back of the restaurant, so fans won't be a problem. This is California, so they're used to seeing people like us in the area. Walking there isn't going to be an issue. Just relax baby." he said, bending down and kissing your lips lightly as the elevator came to a stop, pulling away just before the doors opened. 

You could already see Jared standing in the foyer of the hotel, looking around at the different flyers and things that were set up for tourists. He towered a good head and shoulders over most people in the building, so it wasn't like he was hard to spot. 

The walk to the little place that was something like a sports bar was only about three blocks up from the hotel.just as Jensen said.here was no one that even gave the three of you a second look. Jensen and Jared made fun of each other and anyone they saw along the way, laughing and joking like two teenage boys, rather than two grown ass men. 

Once inside the place, the hostess took you to the back of the place and seated you in a room where everyone was already waiting. The little room was completely concealed from the rest of the restaurant. Felica, Briana, Rob, and Richard all yelled their greeting as the three of you came into the room. They were like a bunch of kids that hadn't seen each other for a long time, each one getting up to greet the boys individually. 

"Jen, is this your wife?" the blonde woman you knew to be Briana from watching the con videos, said. You didn't realize you were hiding slightly behind him until you noticed that she had to lean  around Jensen to come face to face with you.

"Yeah, everyone this is Y/N. Y/N this is Rob, Richard, Briana, and Felica." 

They all greeted you warmly, but kept their distance, almost scensing you were nervous. Was it that obvious?

"Y/N a little shy guys, she's not used to all this, this all new to her." Jensen said, squeezing you tightly and planting a kiss on top of your forehead as he guided you around the table, sitting you next to Felica, before taking a seat on the other side of you. 

"So you guys ready for tomorrow?" Rob asked Jensen.The two of them dove into speculation and theories as to what was going to be brought to the table tomorrow. You sat there quietly as you watched all of them talk about things that were above your head. That went on for most of the dinner, only really breaking from their casual flowing conversation as the orders were taken and food was brought. You couldn't help but feel awkward, because you had nothing to interject into the conversation, then you couldn't help but be glad you didn't have to talk.You were a complicated creature.

"Y/N, how are you liking being married to Jensen?" Felica asked, leaning over and talking quietly as the boys were joking and making bets on if they would get this or that if they agreed to come back. Briana leaned into the conversation as well now, interested to hear what you were going to say.

"It's great! Jensen is wonderful." You really didn't know what to say. 

In all honesty even though  you and Jensen had been married for months, you really were just now starting to get to know each other, and getting comfortable with each other.

"I know that you guys didn't come by marriage the conventional way, but I can tell you this, the man is head over heels for you." Briana said, taking a swig  of her drink, looking at you more like a motherly figure than probably should have been allowed at this table of over grown adult children.

You smiled tightly and nodded, not really responding as you looked back down at your hands folded in your lap. 

The conversation carried on from there with them getting to know you a little more as the men acted... well, like themselves. 

It was finally time for the night to come to a close, and everyone stood and said their goodbyes. You were just about to walk out of the room with Jensen, when Briana yelled at you over the guys heads, running up to grab your arm.

"Felicia and I can't go to the meeting in the morning. Our isn't until tomorrow. Let's go get our nails done while we wait for the guys to come back and tell us the news!!!"

"Yes let's do it!" Felica interjected before you could get a word in.

"Well it's settled, two against one, we will pick you tomorrow Y/N!!" Briana said, grabbing her coat, kissing Jensen on the check and running off. You just stood there blinking for a moment. More social interaction. Great!!

"You will get used to her." Felica said, laughing as Jared grabbed her hat and took off running with it toward the street, and she chased after him yelling profanities, and laughing. 

Jensen laughed by your side, slipping his arm around you. You looked up at him, just watching him as he interacted with his old cast mates. He looked years younger around his friends when he finally let himself go. You couldn't deny him this opportunity to be around everyone again, and if they decided to bring the show back, seeing him like this was worth the fear. 

You only hoped one day he'd laugh with you like that.

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[write-like-you-mean-it]

A Hunter’s Prey: Everything is Going to be Different Now

I didn’t know how long I had been crying when Illumi finally pulled me away from the scene of the crime. Police were patrolling the park even since they saw a huge flock of crows heading towards there. I couldn’t even stand facing the corpse of beloved friends again. I should be comforting Machi. She knew them better. These were her friends . 

“I’m going to take her out of here,” said Illumi to Machi. 

“Good idea,” she said. Her voice was hoarse due to the screaming match she had earlier. “I’ll clean this up. The boss will at least want to bury them.” 

“No,” I mumbled feeling tired from all the crying and exhaustion from the last few hours. “I-I can help.” 

My weak pleas fell on deaf ears. Illumi only pulled me along as I didn’t have much strength to fight him or did I have the drive to try. I couldn’t even have the energy to leave the crook of his arm. My feet would only carry me as far as he would take me. 

Before long, we’d reached a hotel at the edge of town away from the park, Heaven’s Arena, and the silent call of the police. I stood silently as Illumi asked for a room from the front staff. He gave a fake name and I.D. Once we’d gotten the room, Illumi finally led me to the bed. 

I collapsed on top of it. My body felt a numb tingle that reminded me of static noise. Too much of this seemed like a dream while all being too real. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this,” muttered Illumi as he took a seat in the armchair across from the bed. 

I wanted to respond; however, my voice wouldn’t come. I felt a sickness surge through my body. A nausea that I only feel when anxiety spikes beyond belief. My body moved on its own as it carried me to the restroom to relieve myself of all contents inside my stomach. Kneeling besides the toilet, all I could think about was Kortopi and Shalnark discussing how they’re going to be traveling. The two unknowingly less than an hour away from their death. 

My head pounded against my skull as I wretched until I felt nothing but an empty stomach that left me in pain. Illumi watched me from the entrance of the bathroom. My hand weakly went to flush before closing the lid and leaning back against the tub of the shower. 

Illumi took a seat right next to me but sitting on the tub itself. “You don’t have to watch over me,” I mutter while leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I hear the water running before feeling a cool cloth on my forehead. 

“I know,” he spoke. 

“I’m just tired.”

“I know.”

“You can leave,” I say while pressing the cool towel so that water rushes down every inch of my face. “I just want to stay here a little longer.”

He didn’t respond; however, I could still feel the heat of his body next to mine. His long hair tickled some of my face but I refused to move. This spot was perfect for letting the emotions wash over me once again. Tears refused to appear. I was only left with shaky breaths and a cold forehead. 

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my head. Illumi’s cold fingers ran through my hair. I opened my eyes to see him looking down at the floor while trying the most physical contact as he can muster. He’s trying to help even if he doesn’t know how. His gesture broke my heart all over again. “The first kill I saw was by Father. One of the butlers had acted up. Father told me to kill him, I refused. Father got more angry at my refusal and killed him for me. As punishment, I was forced into the prisons. He beat me endlessly for days.”

“Oh god,” I said while moving my hand to hold his on top of my head. His eyes never left the absent void that took over his vision. It was as if he was reliving the pain all over again; yet, he said it with such conviction. “How old were you?”

“Two.”

I sat up even further even though my quaking body pushed against me. “You were only two? H-how? Why?”

“I disobeyed. It is what happens.”

“And all your brothers?”

“Their experience was a little later. Milluki at 2 and a half. Killua, Alluka, and Kalluto at 3. I and Milluki had too many nightmares or he would have started sooner. 3 seemed to be the perfect age.”

I didn’t know how to respond to the messed up situation placed before me. He was trying to help but all I felt was bad for everyone around me. Everyone had lost so much and I was finally catching up to the program. I entered a war with kicking and screaming. 

“I’m sorry,” was all that fell from my lips. 

“I won’t treat our children that way. Since I’m not the heir…” his voice trailed off for the first time since I’d met him. This was a very different Illumi. His past is held under a tight lock and key. He holds it all in so tightly that he has to pick his thoughts. He’s always so calm and collected because a wrong choice could lead to more punishment by his father. 

“Already thinking of our children?” I ask while pulling my hand away from my hair. Illumi catches my hand first and takes off the blood soaked white cloth that I’d wrapped around it long ago. 

“Yes of course.” My hand was a sore, bloody mess. The bleeding had stopped a while ago; yet, the coagulated blood had become dry and itchy. I removed the other hand’s covering. “How did this happen?”

“Nen,” I mumbled. “I used my Nen to create a makeshift metal to cut through Hisoka’s ability. All I could think about was saving Machi yet I was hurt in the process.”

“I see.” His eyes finally left the void as he turned to look at me. If I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn his eyes were a little more glossy than before. “We need to get you clean. I’m hoping the concierge doesn’t call the police.”

I scrunch my nose in confusion before I notice all the dried blood on my shirt. I lifted the cloth from my face to see it stained in the same crimson as my clothes. “Oh,” I responded with realization at how I must look. I tried to push myself up but the wounds on my hands sent me spiraling back down in pain. 

Illumi held onto my arm as he pulled me up and into the tub. “You don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” He said before walking to the door. “If you need, call. I’m going to see about getting you a change of clothing. You can take a bath by yourself?”

“Yes,” I said while already starting to strip off my shirt. Illumi nodded before leaving the door open a crack. I finished getting undressed and the water started. A bath was perfect for what I needed. I didn’t want to move but I needed to get clean. Slowly, the bath started to turn a light shade of pink as blood mixed with water. I washed every bit of my body until I felt mildly clean. 

My mind cleared a bit in the soaking tub. The heat made me feel even more tired than my aching body did. Once I felt I was clean enough, I let the water out, grabbed a towel, and finally stood on my own two feet. 

Illumi hadn’t returned when I finally was able to walk out of the bath. I laid down on the bed with only a towel wrapped tightly around my body. The air conditioning pumped out a cool breeze while giving a high pitched hum. I could feel my mind wander to sleep before I registered that it was what was actually happening. 

I only awoke to Illumi shaking my body. “I’ve gotten you some new clothes and some food.” I sat up while looking at the fashion sense that Illumi had picked out for me. He had gotten a few outfits and a set of pjs to wear. They weren’t terrible. In fact, I’d call them fashionable.  I changed into the PJs in front of him before taking a bite of the toast given to me. 

“Thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“Yes,” he says while removing his shirt to crawl into bed. He looked as tired as I felt. Sleep still held me tightly. I finished the simple platter of toast and a hard boiled egg before climbing back into bed with him. Instead of splitting sides like back at Kukuroo Mountain, Ilumi held out his arm so that I could lay on his chest. I obliged.

“Illumi?” I asked as his arm wrapped around me so that I could feel a little comfort in this tiny room. 

“Hmm,” he said while raising an eyebrow and looking at me. 

“What is your plan for us in the future?”

He paused to think. I was getting used to the pauses before answering questions. Weirdly enough, I knew he would actually answer them. Before, it was so easy to not hear an answer to my questions. Now, I knew he wanted to answer. 

“We have 4 kids. We move off the mountain and into another location as we have to. I’ll still keep with the business even though Killua has returned. You can work if you want. You don’t have to. We’d teach Nen to the children so they can be protected. That’s all I have planned so far.”

“You’re really stuck on four kids.”

“It's how many siblings I have.”

“I see.” With my head on Illumi’s chest, I could hear his soft heartbeat. My eyes closed at the sound. I wanted it to null me back to sleep. “Everything going to be different now?”

“Yes. For you it will,” he responded with the same groggy tone as me. He was falling asleep as fast as I was. 

“Why not you?” 

“I’ve been through this before.”

“Illumi?”

“Yes?”

“How many people have you killed?”

“You don’t want to know?”

“Then how old was your first kill?”

“2. Only three days after.”

“I’m sorry, Ill,” I mutter. The pounding of his heart felt more like a metronome that was slowly putting me into a deep trance. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responded before kissing the top of my head. That was the signal to my brain to finally allow me to rest.

Next Chapter

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Full Masterlist

[homeofhousechickens]

Hii, I saw your Marek's disease post, my cousin has a hen that has this kind of eye but she's ok, she eats, moves and everything, do you maybe know if this type can also evolve and become the most dangerous types like the paralysis? I'll be glad if you can answer and hope you have a great day

There are 5 different "forms" of Mareks and different "strains" of the virus that are more lethal or infectious then others. It's possible for a bird to present with multiple symptoms and forms when they have the disease.

Nerve form- Birds with this form have tumors infiltrate into their peripheral nerves. This causes symptoms like wry neck and sometimes a head tilt. It can also cause a chicken to have a slow crop and have trouble emptying. 20% of birds with this form die

Transient paralysis form - Causes brain edema and ataxia. The bird can have partial paralysis of the neck and legs. Usually, you will see these birds trying to use their wings to get around while falling over a bunch. 30% of birds with this form will die.

Ocular form- The virus replicates in the eye, causing tumors and vision loss. This causes the shape and color of the eye to change. 25% of birds with this form will die.

Skin form- The virus replicates in the skin causing tumor growth and enlarged feather follicles. Usually the location for these is around the head, legs, and vent. The bird will be lumpy and might have wonky feather growth but that's usually it. This form has the lowest mortality rate.

Visceral form- Tumors develop all throughout the body and onto the internal organs. The symptoms will present differently depending on what organs and systems are affected. 60-80% of birds with this form will die.

For chickens with Ocular Mareks they are usually older birds that have a bit of an immunity to the virus which is why their body is able to kind of suppress it but unfortunately the chicken can still have tumor development elsewhere in her body especially if her immune system gets compromised by a different illness like coccidosis or fowl pox.

If your girl has the Ocular form you must assume the rest of your flock has it and it's possible for it to present as the other forms. Mareks can stay dormant in a host for a long time then pop out when the birds immune system is weakened.

For anyone reading this and getting worried..

YOU CAN TEST FOR MAREKS! A lot of people don't know you can test living birds for the disease but it can also be diagnosed via necropsy. Your vet can help you with the testing but you can also do the testing yourself using something like VetDNA.com.

To avoid Mareks you can get your birds vaccinated and only purchase from NPIP certified flocks. The vaccine won't stop the spread of the disease but it can prevent birds from showing symptoms. If you have a mareks positive flock it's important to keep them on your property and dont sell them or show them as they can infect other birds.

Good biosecurity practices are a must and the best way to prevent an outbreak is running a closed flock. No adult or baby birds are added everything is hatched and raised on the property is the ideal. Of course accidents can still happen like if you have a close neighbor with an infected flock. Mareks spreads through the dander so it's important that infected birds don't share air space with non infected birds.

If your birds do have Mareks and you want a flock that isn't infected the best thing to do is either cull your current flock, or wait for them to pass naturally. There are certain cleaners like Rescue and Kennelsol that kill the Mareks virus so you would want to clean all old feeders and waterer with it (or get new ones) and I have seen people say to burn down the old coop as it can be tricky removing the dust from the crevices. Mareks can live in the soil for a long long time but like other viruses you can still work towards sanitizing and decomtaminating the soil.

You can still hatch eggs from Mareks infected birds as the disease doesn't transfer vertically.

Hopefully this is the information you were looking for

[monkeydlesbian]

hi fyfa! congrats on 900, you're so talented smh. i was wondering if i could get a hq matchup, male or female idc. (ill send you a selfie of mine through dms!)

alr so about me; my names ivette, i use she/her pronouns, im bisexual, 5'4, 19, major is child psychology, my sun is in cancer, rising aries, moon is in gemini, infp-t, i have mommy & daddy issues 😩.

personality wise? im very sensitive but also defensive, little things can set off my waterworks but i know when i have to stand up for myself & others. im generally a very kind person. im funny as fuck 😏. im quite impatient & can get irritated fairly quickly. im very much the 'mom' in all of my relationships, i have a habit of taking on peoples problems which i dont mind, but it takes tolls on my mental health. although i love my family & friends, its hard for me to actually open up to others so i usually keep shit to myself. i also tend to run away from my problems. idk if this is a personality trait but im a very attentive person, i pick up on body language almost immediately, im exceptionally good at micro-analyzing people (my irls ask me to read them all the time 🏃🏽‍♀️).

this went on a bit long, sorry about that, thank you for this in advance <3.

hi, ivette! today, you’ve been matched with. . .

𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈!

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒!

♡︎ i matched you with ushijima because i think the two of you would really match the ‘opposites attract’ trope!!

♡︎ where ushijima struggles in reading people, you do it flawlessly. where you’re impatient, he’s the exact opposite.

♡︎ you often fill in for him in the areas he lacks, and he does the exact same for you!!

♡︎ ushijima is very blunt and you’re very good at reading people, so i feel as if communication in your relationship wouldn’t be too much of an issue!

♡︎ he loves how selfless you are and how you’re always willing to help others out, but he’ll always be able to tell when you need help yourself.

♡︎ ushijima really doesn’t care all that much about what you look like, but he will not hesitate to tell you how beautiful you are. he’s so straightforward with it too, and he always manages to fluster you without even trying :’)

♡︎ i can see the two of you as being a pretty private couple, so your downtime together in your own home is something that the two of you cherish!

♡︎ your relationship with ushijima is something that works itself out beautifully, and seeing him have such a huge soft spot for you and his love for you is truly an amazing thing :’)

𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄!

You’re excitement is palpable as you drag your boyfriend through the entrance of the animal shelter. The lady at the front desk looks a little frightened at the sight of the mountain of a man behind you (you give her an apologetic smile, waving his seemingly mean expression off), but she still guides the two of you into a large hallway that gives way to multiple rooms, filled with plenty of critters waiting to be taken to a new home.

“‘Toshi,” you whisper excitedly as you tug on his arm, “which room would you like to go in first?”

He hums in contemplation, taking a look at all of the labels stamped onto each of the doors.

Suddenly, he looks down at you, “The kittens.”

At that, you beam up at him, again dragging him until you reach the door in question, turning the doorknob and stepping into a room filled with tiny kitten chirps and mewls.

There’s about fifteen of them, you think, that greet the two of you right once you close the door behind you. They all have different coat colors, different hair length, different eye color.

There’s another volunteer sitting on the couch in the corner of the room, a teenage boy who’s able to see Ushijima Wakatoshi, professional wing-spiker and member of the Japan Men’s National Volleyball Team, in the flesh.

“You— you’re—“

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” he greets, stepping up to the boy and offering his hand for him to shake, “we’re here to adopt an animal.”

The boy takes it with wide eyes, shaking his hand in an almost trance-like state.

You wave to the boy and stifle a laugh at the way his eyes seem to twitch.

“You— uh... let me know if— if you need help or anything,” he falters, watching in awe as Ushijima plops himself down onto the floor to play with the kittens.

Several of them flock to the big man, crawling over his legs and chirping up at him to get his attention. You sit beside him, and a few of the other ones in the room come to you.

Ushijima picks up not one, but two in a single palm, and it looks like there’s still room for one more. But he doesn’t push it, instead opting to use his other hand to scratch at the kittens heads and underneath their chins.

You’re holding a baby Tabby cat, it looks like, and a Calico makes her way in between your legs and plops herself in your lap.

A tiny one, with eyes as blue as the sky and fur as white and soft as snow, somehow climbs its way up your boyfriends arm, then plops down right on his shoulder, mewling and rubbing up against his chin.

“What’s this ones name?” You ask as Ushijima sets the two kittens down in his palm to scoop up the kitten on his shoulder, holding it out in front of him with his arms outstretched.

“Her name’s Angel,” the boy responds, smiling as Ushijima brings her closer to his face as if he’s inspecting her.

“She’s so cute,” you coo as Ushijima hands her off to you, pressing tiny kisses all over her face. She chirps, butting her head against your cheek.

Your boyfriend looks fondly at you and the kitten, watching as you put her on your shoulder with a wide smile so she can mewl in your ear. You look like you have stars in your eyes, and Ushijima thinks he made the right decision to go into the kitten room first.

Suddenly, he turns to the volunteer on the couch,

“We would like to adopt her.”

★— 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 —★

[fuwafuwamedb]

Demons in Fuyuki Pt 2 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Kirei)

Previously: 1

__

The morning light came in warmly, embracing her with a loving embrace that left her shifting slightly in bed. Her eyes opened to blue skies and lush green trees outside the window. Her body shifted, feeling the silkiness of her outfit that had coasted out of its proper state as she’d slumbered.

It was a great morning. A lovely morning.

Today, in fact, she would have a good day. She could feel it in her bones. If she went out with this attitude and took pride in the world of magic and its hand in hand embrace of the divine, she would experience nothing but happiness.

Of course, then her eyes took in the room.

The darkened ceilings with their patched up wooden ceiling boards. There were wires that were exposed, leading to a singular light overhead that held a string. She could see the minimalist décor and the spartan furniture. A desk, a bed, a small table, and a small chest of drawers composed the room. Other than that, there was not even a proper rug on the floor or set of curtains over the window.

Hakuno looked down.

The blanket she had was finer than the one that had been here last night. She’d fallen asleep under the strangest blend of wool that had ever been formed into a blanket, its edges had been covered in a satin trim, no doubt to prevent fraying but, in doing so, left the feet of to freeze at the slightest touch.

It’d been such a poor blanket, but not this one.

Size alone said this crimson and black blanket was at least twice the size. The fabric material was soft and warm, made of a thick fabric that she couldn’t place. It had replaced her poor gift from the church easily and entirely, leaving her to glance around again for any signs of her old blanket.

In glancing around, she noted her outfit had changed as well.

The slip she’d been adorned in was missing.

Well, it was gone from her person at the very least.

In the place of her chaste, white slip that went under her habit, Hakuno found herself in a black silky number. Its straps were over her upper arms now, having fallen from her shoulders. The fabric had puddled around her middle due to the length and- now that she was pulling back the blanket, someone had gone further.

A set of panties and garters led lower.

Someone had dressed her without her consent.

Not only had they done that, they’d dressed her in probably the most risqué of attire that one could have gotten her. A glance to the door showed that the thing was ajar, exposing her just a bit to the hallway.

She didn’t have other attire options.

That was where the whole pious nun cover came from. She had given up personal possessions for the life devoted to the church. She’d made sure not to wear any perfumes or adorn herself with any makeup. Her life and her state of being were to be presented as bare and empty.

However, there were footsteps coming now.

There was no time to dwell upon who had done this. No time to think about how to avoid trouble. Hakuno grabbed her habit and slipped it over the clothing she wore. She pulled the blanket from the bed, folding it as quickly as she could and carefully looking around.

There was not much time and that priest, if suspicious, would look around this room.

Her eyes drifted to the ceiling patches.

A floorboard creaked not far from her room. For now, Hakuno shoved the blanket beneath the mattress and began to grab her veil for adorning her head. She was just shoving her hair underneath the headdress as she saw the priest.

“Sister?”

“Good morning, Father Kirei.” Hakuno gave a low bow, doing her best to cover up any indication of her racing heart. “What brings you to this end of the church?”

“You missed the morning mass.”

“I did?!”

The man nodded.

God would forgive her. There was no place of worship or time of worship that restricted one’s goodliness and wellbeing more than any other time or place. Religious belief was between one and their heavenly spirit, not the mass and their prominence in the church.

“Would you care to join me privately for a religious prayer? Perhaps to beg His forgiveness for your tardiness.”

“I would hate to take you away from your duties, father.”

The last thing she wanted was to be in a room alone with this man, especially in the central part of the church. There was no missing the way he avoided the light. His eyes were too bleak, too sharply focused. It was as though he were preparing for a kill rather than checking on the wellbeing of one of his flock.

The man shook his head.

“Sister, may I remind you that god is above all else. One’s devotion to their god should be absolute, without hesitation or perception of earthly duties. While we may fast and partake in the cilice to show our devotion, there are many who would be tempted by the devil’s hand. Vain, selfish beings, unworthy of the protection of the divine and the comfort they find in their faith may stray from their daily worshipping of god, but it is those like ourselves who must hold their faith resolute.”

“The lord is about forgiveness.”

“Oh?”

The man moved closer, leaning in.

“Do you think that the lord approves of vain attempts to stop the aging of man? Do you think that we should encourage the selfish ways of human beings and endorse the way that others try to avoid confronting their own pains and vices? Should we allow one to think that their own actions can save them alone?”

…Yes.

That sounded like a few great things to do, especially the pains and vices bit when those were too great. Support was needed. Community.

Something in that gaze kept her silent though.

“You will learn properly about faith in this church,” Father Kirei told her. “Withstanding the pains of life, experiencing the losses and poverty of man, only then can one be close to what is truly human. Only then can one think themselves a follower of their faith.”

And that was no doubt the talk that sent everyone running, claiming it was donations alone, Hakuno thought to herself. She was tempted to leave herself.

“I will wait for you in the basement prayer rooms,” he told her. “Finish your cleanings, since I see that you are caring for your space that you’ve been given… where is your blanket?”

“I took it to be washed,” Hakuno lied. “Regular cleaning encourages health.”

That sounded like something that he would approve of.

The man glanced at her. “And your dressing now?”

“I have been dressed. I merely had my headdress a bit loose.”

“I see.”

She was a shit liar, but the man turned. It looked like he had no reason to wonder about truth or lies. The moment he was gone and his footsteps were descending the stairs, Hakuno rushed to her bed and pulled the blanket out. She had to use the desk to get up to one of the roof patches, pulling it aside to see the small crawlspace.

It was a waste. The blanket was beautiful and would become dirtied in this spot, but she couldn’t let it be found.

Her undergarments for the day were too form fitting and slick, all but caressing her when she moved. Even as she descended down the stairs and went to visit with the priest, she found herself mentally cursing.

There was nothing pious about wearing such lewd garments beneath her religious attire. There was nothing pure running through her mind when she would feel the garters press lightly to her thighs and legs.

The demon made prayer long, speaking of verses from the Old Testament. Fire and brimstone, smiting and anger; she heard nothing of hope or comforts. They reviewed the morning mass’ donations, the man making several large donation collections go towards cleaning and maintaining the church.

“Soon, the donations will have saved up enough to bring more of those who’ve abandoned their god to their renewal of faith. I intend to expand the main room, to bring more seating and stone walls to this building.”

And she could see him affording that easily.

“May I help look over the finances?”

“To what end?”

“Perhaps to see if any donations have faltered.” Hakuno smiled as best she could. “Perhaps there is a crisis of faith that has brought me here.”

The man gave a small nod, turning and leaving the room.

The answers had to be here.

Of all things, finances would show discrepancies. There would be signs of finagling and ill intent amongst these records. The man was so easily able to decide the portioning of money, whereas all the places she’d been lingered and asked opinions. Even the finest businessmen that she’d worked with before had faltered in making such bold decisions.

Somewhere-

“Those books are fake.”

Hakuno paused, glancing over to the blond in the corner.

“The priest never shows his true ledgers to anyone,” the man purred. “This is a test, one of which you are failing.”

“What do you mean, failing? I am looking for-“

“Do not lie to me. Your lies cannot stand on any ground, shaky or otherwise.”

He moved forward with that being said, his arms leaning over her person and lips moving close to her ear.

“You did well in hiding my gifts, little sister. Tell me, do you still wear the clothing I gave you this morning or did you find a clever place to hide them. I found the blanket I gave you, but the clothes…”

“It was you?”

He leaned in close, his forehead pressing to hers.

“H-How did you know about the blanket’s location?”

“The patches in the ceiling were made on purpose. Them and a floorboard are the only true places to hide anything. Not to worry, I took the blanket back before the priest could find it. He’s currently turning over your room for any signs of sin.”

The man’s fingers brushed against her thigh, feeling the straps of the garters beneath.

“What a sinful sister of the cloth, wearing such things while working. Does it bring you pleasure, I wonder.”

“No one is without sin, not even the foreigner who mourns his friend.”

Dangerous words.

She could see those eyes flash, the man’s hands stilling on her person.

“I have raised armies and slaughtered countless men,” the man warned quietly. “I’ve taken the innocence of more women than this city has people, all with the full knowledge that they would go to their men without their innocence and chastity intact. I-“

Hakuno pressed her hand over his lips.

Looking up at him, she shook her head.

“I don’t know why you think you are a demon, but there is only one here whom can be called such a thing. Your sins are only the pain of mortality. I can’t tell you prayers or cleanse your spirit, but I can tell you this: I guarantee I’ve killed more demons than you’ve slaughtered in men. And I’ve cleansed more of this world than you’ve ever corrupted.”

At his silence, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek.

“Thank you for the warning about the demon, son of god. I will be more careful in the future.”

She’d look for the ledgers tonight, once the priest was asleep.

In the meantime, she’d find him and give praise. 

His false books were beautiful.

[rogerina-is-hotter-than-me]

“Their Blood is Upon Them” Catholic!Lucy: Part 1

((My masterlist))

Pairing: F!Reader x Catholic!Lucy

Word count: 3,500

Recommended playlist 

Synopsis: Growing up Catholic, you knew that certain things were right and certain things were wrong: you knew that God made the heavens and the earth in six days, that you’d never develop a taste for unleavened bread, and that love was between a man and a woman. You’d never struggled with these facts before. That was until you met Lucy.

Warnings: Dramatic angsty gay shit, smut in future chapters, FxF content, Catholic guilt, homophobia, internalized oppression 

A/N: A little something for my lovely queer ladies! I’m aware that FxF content may not be as popular as my usual FxM stock but I worked very hard on this gay cheese and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Love you thotties! (Yes this is re-uploaded I’m a dumbass and accidentally destroyed the formatting) 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ

You knew who you were as you stood in the art gallery.

The statue had done it. A statue of a veiled virgin; gossamer straining like sinews across the face and stomach, falling smooth over her white breasts. Her features were masked beneath opaque veins of alabaster, her thighs poised just-so. Her skin looked so real that you wanted to touch it. You imagined it gliding smooth and satiny beneath your hand. You imagined raising tiny goosepimples--a shiver, a flutter of lashes, a feminine sigh. And that made you think of Lucy.

It was with that conflation that you finally knew. That quick, knee-jerk reaction that had occurred before you could pack your mind with a distraction. This wasn’t something that came from navel-gazing, like all those nights you’d spent beneath your pilly cotton blanket, wondering if you’d just thought yourself into a rut. This was instinctual. And as you watched the lines of marble melting against the smooth, milky skin, you realised that you were too tired to fight it anymore.

It was difficult to put your finger on when the symptoms had started. That’s what Sister Evangeline would call them: symptoms. As though desire were an illness, something that could be remedied with prayer. You were often thankful that Sister Evangeline couldn’t read your mind, that she had no inkling of the tiny flames that danced in your stomach whenever you saw a pretty girl walk by, of how your dreams were occupied by supple curves and girlish moans, of how hard you had to push to join your dorm-mates in fawning over the handsome priest. You had starved these thoughts, tried to crush them down. Some days this was easy, and some days you had to battle it. That’s why you were so surprised when your defeat came in the quiet, white cool of the art gallery, as though someone had covered your mouth and slid a blade between your ribs. A silent, understated demise.

The rest of the group were oblivious to your state. Most had flocked past the naked statues for fear of being caught ogling by Sister Evangeline, and had opted for the Medieval Madonnas, giggling at how old and strange baby Jesus looked. You glanced across to them, weak and swaying on the balls of your feet. Sheets of shiny hair rippled as they spoke; most girls liked to grow it long and tie it in damp braids at night. Bottle green blazers swamped each narrow set of shoulders, and stockinged legs protruded from long plaid skirts.

Lucy stood out like a sore thumb: blunt hair, short skirt, blazer tied around her waist. You hated how effortlessly she leant all her weight on one leg. That smug ease. Perhaps an anti-climax was befitting—she had teased the crippling epiphany out of you with nonchalance. There was no need for ceremony.  

You felt like you were paralysed above a deep stretch of blackness. All you could do was watch her, unable to tear your gaze away. She idled by the exhibits, listless as a house fly. You felt a sudden guilt at ogling her.

‘Y/n, whatever’s the matter?’ Sister Evangeline was beside you. To have teased sympathy out of her meant that you must look ghastly. You met her eyes, your feelings so hot and full that you were sure she could read them. The sight of her lined, humourless face and mannish eyebrows at least cooled you down. ‘You look like a bled calf. Are you ill?’

You shook your head and swallowed, composing yourself. ‘Just feel a little lightheaded,’ you said hoarsely. In all honesty, it wasn’t just your head that felt light; you felt so suddenly hollow that you were surprised your ugly brogues were still managing to anchor you to the floor.

‘Perhaps you need some fresh air,’ she said, turning into the next room of the gallery. You knew that she was scouting for Muriel—the school prefect and your best friend, whose Girl Guide-administered First Aid training would be enough to remedy your dizziness—but she’d long since moved out of the sculpture hall. ‘Where on earth have they—Oh, Miss. Boynton.’

Your heart seized in your chest. Whatever nausea you were feeling before increased ten-fold. Lucy, who had been busy looking at a framed Turner painting, turned towards you. You felt another stab— this one somehow sweet and dreadful—as you were reminded of how beautiful she was. Sister Evangeline was beckoning her over.

‘I’m fine, Sister,’ you managed, trying not to belie your desperation. Lucy, casting one last look at the painting, walked towards you. ‘I’m feeling much better actually. I’m fine.’ Evangeline looked towards you, noting the moustache of perspiration that had suddenly beaded your upper lip. She raised a bushy eyebrow and ignored you.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss. Boynton,’ she said, as Lucy neared. She gave you an icy up-and-down look. A shiver rolled through your body, ending in your stomach. ‘Y/n isn’t feeling well. Could you take her outside for some fresh air?’

Lucy didn’t answer straightaway. Instead she looked at you, cocked her head to one side and asked: ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ you said, mouth dry. ‘Just a bit lightheaded.’

‘How come?’

‘I’m anaemic.’ The lie was out of your mouth before you could stop it. For a sick split-second you wondered if Sister Evangeline was going to expose you, but she didn’t seem to be listening.

‘Can you take care of her for me?’ she asked, her gaze in the next room, where the troupe were pointing, scandalised, at Simone Soloman’s “Sappho.”

‘Sure,’ Lucy said. Without warning she took your arm and yanked you towards the nearest fire exit. ‘I needed a fag anyway,’ she murmured, once she was out of Sister Evangeline’s earshot. Her arm was warm and smooth against yours. Every brush of skin on skin felt tickly, making you want to both twitch away and move closer. Your heart thudded in your chest. Lucy pushed the door open and you squinted in the sudden glare of sunshine.

‘You should sit down,’ she said, backing onto the pavement. You obediently dropped into a sitting position on the floor, scooting on your hands until your back was pressed on the hot stucco of the museum’s walls. Little grits of dirt bit into your palms. You couldn’t look at Lucy. Instead you watched her legs, long and inky-black in their opaque tights. Traffic sped by and kicked up dry dust, powdering them a little.  

‘How have you still got that on?’ Lucy asked.

You wanted to speak but your mouth was so dry that you were unsure if you’d be able to summon the words.

‘Hello? Y/n?’ You were glad of the sting in her voice. You wanted her to be cruel. It was what you deserved.

After a few seconds you were emboldened enough to meet her gaze. She was stood over you, shading her eyes from the sun, hair glowing and tossing in the hot breeze. ‘What?’ you asked quietly.

‘Take your blazer off.’

Something hot rushed through you. Close to panic but a little sweeter. ‘What?’

‘Take your blazer off. It’s boiling out here. Probably why you feel so faint.’

‘Oh,’ you said, and quickly scrambled to rid yourself of it. From the way she was looking at you, you wondered if she was going to start laughing. ‘What?’ you asked, disturbed by her inquiring eyes.

‘Is that all you know how to say? What, what, what.’ Then, without warning, she pulled her skirt up. You flinched as though she’d just hit you.

‘What—what are you—’ you began, before her chuckle cut you short.

‘ “What”,’ she parroted, her laugh as high and clean as the peal of a bell. It took a little while before you noticed the rectangular lump in the waistband of her tights. You tried not to flit your eyes down to the thighs, covered as they were. ‘Want one?’ she asked prematurely, pulling a box of Silk Cuts from the elastic. Her skirt streamed down in a delicate motion.

‘Oh um—no thank you,’ you said, relieved that she was covered again. A few silent seconds elapsed in which she lit up, cupping the flame with her palm.

‘Not giving those up for Lent?’ you asked, at a loss of what else to say. She gave you a sidelong glance, cheeks hollowing around the cigarette. The tip pulsed bright amber.

‘No,’ she said, exhaling. Everything suddenly felt lucid: the razor-sharp shadows, the smell of the smoke, the sound of Lucy’s voice: ‘I’ve given up masturbation.’

It was only by the quirk of her eyebrows that you realised she’d said something inappropriate. You grappled for a definition, totally pre-occupied with the sweet haze of cigarette smoke, the light that shone on the edges of her profile like cut glass. ‘What?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘That’s not funny anymore,’ she said.

‘I’m serious,’ you insisted, a little hostile. ‘What do you mean?’

She stilled completely, eyes wide with intrigue. ‘You’re serious?’

You nodded. As though by reflex, she took a deep drag on the cigarette. Her slightly sullen gaze was now cast to the passing traffic. ‘Never mind,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I forget that some of you have been raised with this shit.’

All at one you thought of how stupid and bovine you must look to her—another pristine, clueless Catholic girl. You bristled a little, folding your blazer in your lap. ‘It’s a sin, right? Masturbation?’ you said, pulling from your hazy recollection of old R.E lessons.

She gave a humourless, one-syllable laugh. ‘What isn’t?’

‘Good point.’

She looked towards you, and you thought you read a little flash of fondness in her eyes. She cocked her head to one side. ‘It’s proving difficult, you know. Abstaining.’

You nodded, wanting to look collected. Her cigarette stub was hardly two inches long. You watched it smoulder between her two fingers. Realising that you weren’t going to respond, Lucy continued. ‘It really is; temptation is everywhere.’

‘Well, that’s what Father Alec would say,’ you said, rolling your eyes. Your dislike for the priest was in no way feigned; he was a dull, drawling, caterpillar-eyebrowed man who all your friends had an inexplicable crush on.

You seem to have said the right thing, for Lucy started laughing. ‘Father fucking Alec,’ she said, shaking her head and flicking what left of her fag onto the asphalt. She drew her eyebrows into a low scowl and adopted his low monotone: ‘ “Remember girls, if you stick your fingers in your pussy you’re going straight to Hell.”’

Her impression was so spot-on that you couldn’t contain your laughter. You contorted your own brows into a frown and shadowed her: ‘ “Remember children, the Lord is always watching. If your skirts are more than a fingers’ width above your knees, you’re destined for the flames.”’

“Destined for the flames” was an actual term he liked to use every now and then. You noticed how it always reduced Lucy to fits of giggles in Mass, and it did likewise here.

‘If you say the Lord’s name in vain, you’re destined for the flames.’

‘If you sneeze, you’re destined for the flames.’

‘If you think impure thoughts, you’re destined for the flames.’

‘I used to think Father Alec could read my mind, you know,’ you said, breaking the train. Lucy’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Oh yeah? How come?’

‘It was the first time I took confession. I think I was seven or something, and my brain kept repeating this one line from “Cinderella.” I kept trying to stop thinking about it, I thought I’d get told off for not taking it seriously enough.’

Lucy blinked at you, her expression divided between humour and disgrace. After a few seconds, she shook her head. ‘Catholics,’ she muttered, raising her skirt again to fish out another cigarette. ‘They’re all fucking nuts. No offense.’

‘None taken.’ Once she’d extracted the cigarette, you watched her try and ignite it. Her short-nailed thumb crunched on the sparkwheel. The lighter was silver, with a horizontal rainbow stripe down the left side. ‘So, the last school you went to,’ you started. ‘Was that not Catholic?’

She took a deep drag, lungs expanding, before puffing it out. ‘No, it was. I just wasn’t raised Catholic. Not until my parents got into the whole “Born Again Christian” shit.’

You nodded slowly, taking this in. Your eyes drifted to her collar, where a large crucifix stood stark against her throat. Despite her obvious abhorrence for religion, Lucy wore a black, plastic rosary necklace that threw her delicate beauty into relief. When she’d first arrived in her parent’s car—with plans of reformation and a reputation that had sent every face flocking to the windows to watch her arrive— she’d been berated for loading herself with too much costume jewellery. You had watched over Muriel’s shoulder as the new girl unhooked her earrings and wiggled her fingers out of her rings before dropping them in Sister Evangeline’s palm, her mouth hard and cold. Since then she’d been squeezing through every loophole she could find, contesting over the length of skirts and arguing that any accessory with a crucifix on it was legitimate. You remembered the look on Sister Evangeline’s face when one of the crosses in her lobes had been upturned, either accidentally or not.

‘I don’t know why you think you’re exempt from the rules, Miss. Boynton,’ she’d said, as Lucy had airily taken the studs out. ‘But this isn’t a fashion show. There is to be no makeup, no unnatural hair colours, no jewellery, and no long nails.’  

‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Sister,’ Lucy said, fixing her with a look as she deposited the earrings into her weathered hand. ‘I keep my nails nice and short.’

It was the wink that led to her first detention.

‘Why did you come here, then?’ you asked, once she’d had a few more puffs. You watched her lips fasten on the end, her throat straining as she inhaled. Her collarbone stuck out like two white hyphens.  

‘I got kicked out. Look, are you sure you don’t want one? I feel kind of bad just stood here.’ She gestured with the cigarette.

‘No thanks. Why did you get kicked out?’

It was difficult to tell if Lucy looked interested or evasive. She watched you as she inhaled again, buying herself some time, you thought. ‘I’ll tell you if you take a drag.’

You laughed. ‘No way. I’ll cough.’

‘That’s exactly why I want you to do it.’

You tensed up suddenly. Merely the mental image of you inhaling wrong and spluttering in front of Lucy was enough to make your face burn with embarrassment. On seeing your hesitation, she spoke.

‘It would be less intense if we shotgun it.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I just blow whatever’s left into your mouth.’

Your stomach knotted. That lightheaded feeling was back, and your mind felt so loud and busy that you were scared you were going to blurt something stupid. ‘Alright,’ you said instead, getting to your feet. Your blouse was sticking to your back a little. ‘Why did you get expelled, then?’ you asked, rising to your full height. You knew that to avoid eye contact would be to belie how nervous you felt, so you looked at her squarely, watching her pupils dilate slightly despite the arid sunshine.

‘You really want to know?’

‘I do now.’

She paused. ‘You promise you’re not going to freak out on me?’

The knot in your stomach tightened. ‘I promise.’

‘Okay. So last year I was staying at St. Mary’s. It was an all girl’s school, kind of like this, but it was more relaxed. And it wasn’t a boarding school.’

You nodded, wondering why she was stalling with so much detail.

‘It was me and this girl Isabelle. She was the vicar’s daughter. A real good girl, you know. They had this idea that I “corrupted her,” or something, but that’s not true, I mean she was always—basically, we got caught in the disabled toilets together.’

She’d begun rushing towards the end. You could tell straightaway that she regretted the anecdote. Still, a current of curiosity forced you to ask: ‘Together?’

She flicked her eyes up to you and took a steadying breath. ‘Kissing,’ she said, shrugging. ‘That was pretty much it. I had my hand under her shirt but that’s as far as it went. It’s stupid really, isn’t it? A stupid reason to expel somebody.’

Silence hung between you for a few seconds. You could feel Lucy’s tenseness. In a way it felt gratifying, to have that power over her for once. You could have responded the way Muriel might, by wrinkling your nose and calling her disgusting and refusing to have her lips anywhere near yours. You’d be met with a “Fuck you,” and would shake it off and step back into the sterile white of the art gallery, already reducing the strange experience to a memory. Or you could show compassion. Not solidarity, not affirmation, but aloof understanding, like those new wave Christians that Muriel swooned over.

‘It’s not the stupidest reason someone’s got expelled,’ you said after a while. You liked how unfazed your voice sounded. Lucy looked towards you, relieved.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No. A girl once got suspended for a week for having a nosebleed in the middle of a prayer circle. I’m not joking. They wrote her a letter home saying that she couldn’t come to school because she was possessed by a demonic presence.’

Lucy burst into laughter. ‘Jesus.’

‘I know.’

Lucy stayed laughing for a few seconds longer, though your delivery hadn’t been that funny. You sensed that she was grateful for your reaction—despite the whole impervious act, she was still the new girl. She was the victim of incessant rumours, she sat alone in the lunch hall, she was picked last for cricket. Perhaps she was more in need of a friend than you realised.

‘Look,’ you started, leaning back against the sunned stucco. ‘Are you going to the Easter dance with anyone?’

Lucy quirked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’ she asked, voice coquettish. ‘Is this a proposal?’

You couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not; the Easter dance was a famously chaste affair, occurring under the strip lights of the church hall and watched hawkishly by the Sisters and the statue of the crucified Christ. Still, it caused a yearly stir due to the allowance of own clothes and the boys from St. Peters, who were invited and permitted to put their hands on the girls’ hips and spin them in awkward, arms-length circles. The worldlier girls found ways to invite their crushes, but the rest merely awaited the big day, hoping that their options would be less acne and halitosis-riddled than they were last year.

‘Well, yeah,’ you said. ‘I mean, me and Muriel and the rest of the girls all get ready together and stuff. It can be good fun.’

‘Right,’ Lucy said, with a slightly humoured smile.

‘Just don’t want you to go alone, that’s all,’ you said, bristling slightly. You stopped yourself short of saying: “It just seemed like the Christian thing to do.”

‘Well, that’s sweet of you.’ You dropped your gaze to the floor, dragging the sole of your foot through the chits of asphalt. There was a small gasp, as if Lucy had just remembered something.

‘Almost forgot,’ she said, and from your constricted view, you saw swirls of cigarette smoke changing their course. A hot prickle seared up both shoulders as you realised what she was doing. Sure enough, the two-inch stub of the cigarette was wedged between her lips, and she was giving it a deep pull, causing the tip to swell with a sudden throb of amber.

Before you knew it, her face was darkly near and her eyes were closing and her smoky breath was tickling your lips. Her mouth sealed over yours. Everything was wound tight as the tobacco sighed into your parted lips. She’d put her hands on your hips. Casually, platonically. The kind of tactility that wouldn’t raise eyebrows at a teenage sleepover. A reflexive image jumped into your head, of Lucy hooking her fingers into the waistband of your skirt and yanking you towards her until your stomachs collided. The idea frightened you so badly that you gasped, flattening the smoke against the back of your throat.

Breaking away, you coughed and spluttered. Lucy stayed still, allowing her arms to fall back to her sides. Your hands were shaking. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that, you knew. Not with a girl. You were sick. You were just what Sister Evangeline said: sick.

‘Are you okay?’ Lucy called, after blowing what was left of the smoke skywards. You watched it curl up and peter into nothingness, blitzed by the sunshine.

‘Fine.’

Two days in and you’d already broken your Lenten sacrifice; you’d vowed to give up lying.

Tag list: @rogertaylorsangeleyes​ @losers1o1​ @mazzelloiii​ @roger-bang-the-drum​ @miamideacon​ @amcquivey​ @rhapso-kei​ @seven-seas-of-hi​ @tinyplanet-explorers​ @little-weirdo-13​ @liliththestripper​ @yourstateofdreaming​ @thisjustfantasy​ @let-them-eat-cake-she-said​ @brianmays-badgers​

[testifytime]

hi ardent!!! im here to be government kin assigned. you pretty much know most things about me by now, but i really love music and art! i also really like sports n science!! so, uh, a pretty wide variety of interests ghjklgh. i try hard to stay kind and optimistic, and i really care about my friends!!! ty for doin these, they seem so fun!!

-Cracks my knuckles- You didn’t specify so I’ll do all.

- A Pokemon team/type theme (+ fun facts abt your team!)

You’re a fairy-type user! Your main pokemon is Sylveon, though you also have a lil Togepi, Florges, Alcremie, Marill, and Ribombee!

Fun facts!

Your Sylveon evolved without you meaning it to! You were going to evolve it into a Vaporeon, but you befriended it so quickly that it evolved before you got the water stone!

Your Togepi likes to ride around in a little backpack you made specifically for it. It’s a huge sweetie, but it also a bit of a baby; it knows Fake Tears, so it often cries whenever it wants some attention. 

Your Florges and Ribombee help you in your garden! Ribombee makes sure that all of the flowers are pollinated, and likes to help with watering them! Florges helped you plant all the flowers and how to place them beautifully, and now keeps a close eye on them for any signs of stress or illness - which, luckily, have never happened!

Your Alcremie was a gift from someone! It adores you with its whole heart, which can sometimes be a little messy; more than once it’s tried to jump into your arms, and you’ve ended up covered in sticky cream. Its sweet is a Heart, and its flavour is Mint!

Your Marill is a little different from the others. It’s a lot shyer, and tends to cling to your legs a little more. But it’s really good with kids!! It loves to go swimming with you in fresh water lakes. 

- Bloodcaste/lusus/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck troll (+lore)

You’re a bronzeblood with a Paradise Flycatcher lusus! Your chumhandle is amiableGaitey.

You live in a small house in a meadow far away from society, living a fairly simple - albeit hard - life. There’s a stream that you get most of your water from, and a clothesline that you dry your clothes from, and as soon as the sun sets, you lose all power. It’s... a bit of a pain, honestly, but you kind of like it! You eat the berries and fruits that grow in the orchard and bushes that surround your home, and sometimes you go foraging for nuts and mushrooms, but only if your lusus gives the go-ahead. You’re pretty sure a bunch of the plants near your home are deadly. You might have even made poison once? It’s kind of weird.

You spend a lot of your time outside, going for walks and picking flowers to put into scrapbooks. Sometimes you’ll take your camera with you, and take pics of all the cool plants that you have around your home! It’s fun to show your friends later, when they’re all online, and it encourages you to go out every day just a little further to see what new things you can find. You’ve even turned it into a bit of a game! So far, you’ve managed to follow your river all the way down to the cliff that it drops from, have climbed up it, and have gone racing through the woods above. The exercise is great! You love it maybe more than anything else, and you couldn’t imagine giving it up for anything in the world. 

When you’re at home, you like to spend most of your time talking to your friends online. Your husktop is solar-powered, so you settle down in a nice sunny spot just outside your home and curl up against a big beancushion for hours until that itch to get going hits you again. Sometimes you draw - they’ve gotten you into drawing more and more frivolous things, things for you, things you might not have indulged in if they hadn’t encouraged you to - and sometimes you play games. Most of the time it’s just talking and having fun, though, and you love it! You’re pretty sure you’re all going to be friends for a very long time. You hope so, anyway. 

Your lusus is pretty small. They’re kind of fae-like, if you’re honest, and they often warn you against going in mushroom circles or going too deep into the woods. They’re a supersticious little thing, really! But they make a great navigator when you’re out and about, and they warn you of oncoming trouble pretty quick, so you don’t mind having to do weird things like hop on the stepping stones of a river after saying a little thank you.

- Symbol/guardian/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck kid (+lore)

Your symbol is a styalised bass clef that looks like a heart, and you live with your auntie! Your chumhandle is appreciativeGuitarist.

You and your auntie live in a tiny cottage at the foot of a mountain surrounded on all sides by a field of wildflowers. The kitchen doubles as a dining room, and your livingroom really only fits a small, old-fashioned tv and a sofa that’s a little too worn for wear at this point. But you have your own room! And you’ve got all your things in there, including your bike, which is kind of a pain to get in and out all the time, but you make it work. You have a small desk for your drawingpad and laptop, and a tiny bed you just about fit on, and it’s maybe a little small? But it’s also filled to the brim with clothes you love and stuffed toys you’ve collected over the years, so it’s pretty good, all things considered. Homey, more than anything.

You love to draw! You’ve really improved in the last few years, you think, and you’re getting more confident about posting your art again - so you draw, and draw, and you think maybe you’re starting to see what your friends have been telling you! You like to draw fantasy things, of yourself in different scenarios or just spending time with your friends, all of which you do on your drawing pad. It’s a pretty neat little thing to have, admittedly, though you don’t always get to save your art in the process unless you send it to yourself and save it on your phone - but it means that you’re more inclined to send your art to your friends, and you’re pretty sure they love seeing what you’ve made. 

You love to go out and about, and your little space in nature gives you the perfect place to release all that pent up energy. There’s planty of beaten paths for you to follow, and a whole moutain for you to trek up if you want! You’ve gotten lost a few times, but that’s okay; the wifi signal is weirdly good up there, and it’s easy enough to figure out a way back down again before nightfall. It makes for a pretty good bike track, too, with plenty of dips and bumps that make your stomach flip whenever you go over them too fast.

You have a bunch of friends online! Actually, you have a bunch of people who just kind of flock to you for guidance and leadership, too? It’s a little weird, and it can be a bit intimidating, but you really like being able to help people, even if it means overwhelming yourself sometimes to be good at it. Your friends make it worth it, anyway. They make you laugh and make you feel better when you’re down - which doesn’t happen often, but sometimes it’s hard to keep smiling, and they remind you that that’s okay - and they make such wonderful things with you!! You love being able to talk to them, love spending time with them, and even love getting teased by them (which, you tease them back, of course). 

You like to sit out in the field of flowers just as the sun starts to set, and the sky slowly turns from blue to orange. The wind rustles the flowers around you and curls your hair around your cheeks, and sometimes, you wonder if maybe you’re not alone.

- A FNAF animatronic design and name

You’re a sweet, pink and white boardercollie with lots of hearts in your design! Your eartips are curled over, your pupils and nose heart-shaped, and you have cute little toebeans on each paw. Your chest fur, paws, belly, and the underside of your tail are white, along with your muzzle and a stripe up to your forehead, but every other part of you is a beautiful pastel pink!

You’re designed to be a friend to any child who seems upset or let out at a party, to make them feel special and to bring them back into the fun or even just to spend the whole day with them! 

You have a designated name - Collie - but you like to let the kids decide what to name you, too. It’s fun! And it helps to make them feel like you’re a Special Friend, so you often get trusted with their secrets - like if another kid is a bully, or if they’re maybe not too happy at home. You do your best to make their time at the pizzaria as fun and happy as possible to make up for all the bad things they have to deal with - and honestly, they love going to Freddy’s just to see you! It’s their favourite place in the whole wide world because they know you’re there. 

(You also tend to send information back to the owners about anything worrying you’ve heard while out on the floor. This has saved a lot of kids. They’ve often come back in smiling brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and they haven’t needed you after that, but that’s okay. You know that’s for the best.)

- A BNHA Quirk and hero title

Your quirk is Uplift, which allows you to raise the spirits of any person who hears your voice! It doesn’t matter how down they are or how villainous they may be; as soon as they hear you, their hearts are filled with brightness and warmth. The downside to your quirk, unfortunately, is that it can be draining on you: sometimes you Uplift others so much, that your own mood starts to drop, and you start to get emotionally tired. When this happens, you just need a little company, warmth, and love to get you back to normal. Cuddlepuddles with blankets and hot chocolate ARE common after training.

Your hero title is The Inspiring Hero: Restoraise! You’re more of a support hero than a daylight one, and not very high on the charts, but that’s not what matters to you. What matters is keeping people calm and full of hope whenever you’re on the scene - be that upset civillains, trapped victims, or even hopeless villains. You refuse to let anyone down if there’s even a slim chance that everyone can be saved or redeemed! 

[mwolf0epsilon]

Could I ask for some fallout 4 companion + favorite NPCs headcanons you might have?

I did my top 5 favorite companions in alphabetical order + my top favorite NPC, hope you don't mind! The post would be a bit too long otherwise ^^'

---

[[MORE]]

--Codsworth--

Codsworth is (besides Curie, Edna and Whitechapel Charlie) the most self aware Mr.Handy in the Commonwealth. As a result he tends to be underestimated by people in general (since most Mr.Handies and Mr.Gutsies are stuck in their programming to such a degree that they're not really aware of their surroundings concerning a timeline). This causes Codsworth mild anxiety as he thinks he might be broken or perhaps even dangerous to the Sole Survivor if he "glitches any further". A loose cannon can't be trusted right?

The robot workbench, while useful for repairs and upgrades, gives Codsworth the "willies". He doesn't like the idea of being altered beyond what he was made to be. He has the same sort of dread when asked if he'd ever like to acquire a synth body like Curie. He was "born" a Mr Handy he'll remain one until the day he passes.

Codsworth regularly has tea with Sturges and Mama Murphy. Sometimes he manages to get the Sole Survivor, Preston and Curie to join him, but otherwise not many people give him the time of day to kick back and indulge in old pre-war habits. Unless he bakes some of his famous tarberry cobbler, then everyone flocks around him for a taste.

--Deacon--

Every single lie Deacon tells is based on truths. He has a way of weaving words that is impressive because he only really needs to sell something believable to his audience. What's more believable than a story with a few facts switched around? Deacon lies about lying.

Deacon has a terrible temper. One he couldn't exactly control when he was younger but that he'd learned to get a hold of as he grew older and tried to better himself. Barbara's death was the last time he lost control, and since then no one's really seen the extent of Deacon's fury. That person who let his anger get the better of him was scum and caused nothing but pain and death. He wants to help, not destroy.

Deacon has alluded to having lived a good part of his life underground (being quite fond of caves and feeling safe in them) before moving to University Point. While no one knows where exactly he came from, Maccready has suggested Capital Wastelands since he first met him there and he has helped concoct theories on Deacon's origins that vary from cave settlements, to Little Lamplight and even to a Vault. Whichever one it is, this is the cause for his attachment to his sunglasses. His eyes are incredibly sensitive to bright lights (They're also very convinient for his spy work so it's win win in any case!).

--Nick Valentine--

While he's not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship he does seem to be incredibly fascinated by romance novels. He doesn't admit this to anyone however and won't read anything out in public that isn't part of his mystery novel collection. He has a hidden stash of romance novels in a hidden compartment in his desk.

He watched Hancock growing up with his brother and always thought Guy to be a little too aggressive in his stance about the world around them. He hoped the boy would grow out of it but was quickly proven wrong when Mcdonough became Diamond City's mayor. He considered leaving with John and the ghouls before deciding he needed to stay to keep an eye out for the city. God only knew DC would need all the help it could get from then on out...

He has a missing persons case file for Preston which he keeps a secret. Preston's mother approached him after travelling all the way to DC to ask if he'd find her son who was 17 when he ran away. Ever since the Sole Survivor came along and introduced him to her odd group of misfits he's had to keep himself from telling Preston that his mother is worried sick about him. He hopes that when things settle down a bit and that the Minutemen are back into proper shape that he'll be able to tell the lieutenant and bring him to see his mother.

--Preston Garvey--

He was raised by his biological mother (a brahmin farmer) and the woman she later fell in love with and married (a nurse). He never met his father and his moms insisted he was killed by a raider. He later learned that while his mother was pregnant with him, she and his biological father were kidnapped by a group of raiders and that his father was then tortured mercilessly until his mind broke and he joined them. His mother escaped with her life only by pure luck and chance.

Preston's idolization of the Minutemen was always a consern for Mama Garvey, who was deathly afraid of losing her baby boy. When Preston turned 17 he ran away from home to join the militia against his mom's wishes. He hadn't exactly hit his growth spurt yet so his mothers were pretty scared that he might have died alone in the Wastes. After the Minutemen fell apart Mama Garvey went to Nick Valentine to ask for help searching for any signs that her son might still be alive.

He has a passion for learning new things, new skills, any tidbit of useful knowledge he can get his hands on. He's a bit like a Swiss army knife with all the things he's learned from traveling with the Minutemen and Sole Survivor, be it cook a mean brahmin steak, or mend ripped clothes, or even apply first aid when there aren't any stimpacks available, or even origami (although the latter is just for fun).

--X6-88--

After the Institute is destroyed X6 feels mildly conflicted but chooses to stick by his original instructions to follow the Sole Survivor's orders. This of course was an issue at first because he'd shadow Sole like a lost, albeit mildly terrifying, puppy. He's taken up guard duty after he was asked to stop acting like a bodyguard, since he didn't really know what to do with his time. Some of the braver/nicer companions (Nick, Preston, Curie and Codsworth) have tried to give him pointers, but it's actually some of the settlers who have helped him figure out how to somewhat "enjoy" his freedom (mainly Mama Murphy and Sturges who can tolerate his cynicism and disdain for the Commonwealth and it's people).

He's embarrassed by his Fancy Lads snack cakes cravings. As a synth courser he should be a top of the line model with zero attachment to material possessions and no need for indulging in the disgusting Commonwealth foods, be they pre-war or post-war. However since he's a Gen3 synth this is just a quirk he can't really shake off and he'd probably die of embarrassment if anyone found out his stash in his room.

He has a bit of a synth sense. He's not really aware of it, but he gets a strange feeling sort of like deja vu whenever he meets a runaway synth. The Railroad did a fantastic job with facial reconstructions and new identities, but X6 still has this weird feeling that he's seen them before. This feeling is a lot stronger around Sturges and he can't help feel a little put off by him. Not that anyone notices anyway...

--Sturges--

These two [x] [x] headcanons are pretty much my go to for Sturges's origins, but I'll elaborate further!

The original Sturges was born and raised in the Mojave and briefly moved to the Capital Wasteland with his father (after his mom passed away from an unknown illness). After Sturges Senior retired from the NCR the two moved to the Commonwealth to get away from all the chaos in the Capital Wastes. As a result of moving around a lot, Sturges Junior had a lot of contact with experienced mechanics and scientists. Already a bit of a genius himself, Sturges's knowledge was both a gift and a curse, as the Institute took an interest in him and abducted him as soon as they found a chance to do so. The synth copy that currently resides with Sanctuary's people is a bit of an oddity however... He was a prototype meant to spy on Sturges Senior and the settlement they lived in when they moved to the Commonwealth, but there were a few issues with his programming and Sturges actually forgot he was a synth and that he needed to report to a courser that would be sent to meet with him every month under the guise of trading for scrap. Sturges Senior caught on pretty quickly and dispatched the courser, but realized the synth copy was harmless and that if the Institute took his real son then he was already good as dead, so he feigned ignorance and kept Sturges unaware as well.

Sturges left to make a life of his own a few months after his replacement. He learned how to shoot thanks to his dad, but nothing could really prepare him for how ruthless the Wastes could really be. After he settled he swore off fighting as much as possible since he's not too fond of it. He'd still beat up anyone that threatened his friends, even if he had to do it with his bare fists. Those muscles aren't just for show and Sturges can give a mean punch.

Zeke, the leader of the Atom Cats, is Sturges's cousin from his father's side of the family. The two weren't very close when they were younger because Zeke tended to bully him a bit, but eventually the two grew out of their almost sibling-like rivalry and hung out a lot when Sturges moved to the Commonwealth. When the Atom Cats were formed, Sturges was the main mechanic before he decided to lend his services to Quincy. He liked the town so much that he decided to settle there, much to Zeke's displeasure. The two are in good terms and there's really no bad blood between them.

Sturges is as stubborn as a brahmin. This has proven to be both a great asset to Sanctuary and a terrible burden, as when ever Sturges gets it in his head that he can do something, he won't stop until he does it. Preston has had to drag him away from fruitless projects many times so that Sturges could eat, drink and sleep. Others have been less tactful, like Marcy spilling a bucket of purified water over his head because he had forgotten to bathe in a while, or Jun guilt-tripping him so he'd rest for once in his life, or even one time where the Sole Survivor "hired" Tinker Tom to help around the workshop so Sturges wouldn't have to worry too much about repairs progressing in Sanctuary Hills (Tinker Tom spouted conspiracy theories all day and Sturges now wonders if every mirror he sees isn't a two-way mirror somehow connected to the Institute).

Extra angsty headcanon:

The original Sturges ended up as one of the super mutant behemoths that the Sole Survivor can encounter in the Commonwealth. They wouldn't ever be able to tell considering the beast is nothing like the kind and amicable handyman they know.

[v-thinks-on]

Jeeves and the Great Detective

There was no question about it, if there was ever a time for parties to rally round Bertram Wooster, it was now. I wasn’t in the soup yet, but it was looming closer every minute, and I didn’t very much like the look of my odds. The circs. were particularly gloomy on account of Jeeves, not by his presence, but by his absence. He’d had the gall to take the very day in question as his day off. He had left hours before, none the wiser, with no reason to suspect everything would go awry. Now, there was only one thing to be done; I hopped over to the Junior Ganymede and hoped for the best.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wooster,” the girl at the desk said, “Mr. Jeeves isn’t in right now.”

“Dash it all, but where else could the man be? I don’t suppose you know where he’s gone if not here?” I insisted.

The girl was about to stammer out another apology when an older chap, the very image of a stately old butler, appeared in front of a door that he must have come through, but I could have sworn hadn't even opened a crack to admit him.

“If you’ll forgive the interruption, sir, I couldn’t help but overhear. I believe Jeeves said he would miss bridge today on account of visiting a relation of his in Sussex.”

“In Sussex? I say! Did he leave an address?”

It took a little rummaging, but between the girl and the old chappie, with a bit of help from another fellow in the other room, an address was found and I was soon speeding off into the countryside in the two-seater. It was getting on in the afternoon by the time I rolled up, past rows of those squat boxes chaps use for keeping bees, to a homey little cottage. The place wasn’t much to look at, the grounds comfortable, but not spectacular, but it seemed to be a cozy sort of place, where you might find a little old lady knitting on the couch while her husband tended the bees, or what not.

I knocked at the door and was promptly greeted not by a kindly old lady, but a stern housekeeper. She took one look at me and said, “Mr. Holmes is retired and no longer taking clients. Good day, sir.”

“Wait!” I exclaimed with a jump, as though to leap inside before she shut the door on me. “I’m looking for my man, Jeeves. I was told he’d be here.”

Her demeanor changed in an instant, though she didn’t quite smile at me as she waved me inside. “Why didn’t you say so? I’m sorry, sir, I assumed you were here to see Mr. Holmes. He gets more visitors asking him to hear ‘just one more case’ than a man can very well bear.”

I nodded sympathetically.

She led me in, to a little sitting room situated at the front of the house that looked out on the rows of beehives through a wide window. And sitting by that window was a tall, thin old man, leaning back rather luxuriously in his chair, eyeing me with a distinctly piercing gaze. Jeeves had presumably been sitting in the chair across from him, but by the time I came into the room, he was standing at attention, as though to welcome me back into our flat back in the metrop.

I greeted them both with a cheery, “What ho!”

“Mr. Wooster, I presume,” the old bird said with a thin, but laughing smile. “I perceive you’ve come here in quite a hurry by way of Cuzon street. Lunch didn’t go to plan?”

“No, it dashed well didn’t!” I stopped as I realized what the chap had said. “How did you know all that?”

“My apologies, Mr. Wooster, I am afraid that old habits die hard. I should introduce myself; I am Sherlock Holmes. I suppose I could be called Jeeves’s uncle.”

At the sound of the chap’s name, my mouth unhinged itself and hung open, absolutely agog, I mean aghast. Sherlock Holmes let out a sharp laugh at my expression.

When I had at last partially regained my senses, enough so to speak, I blurted out, “You’re Bunny’s rich uncle?”

Bunny, you see, is Jeeves’s cousin, and the former accomplice of the famous cricketer and infamous gentleman thief, A.J. Raffles, but Bunny tells that whole story better than I possibly could. No longer able to live off of ill-gotten gains, he has occasionally mentioned a rich uncle upon whom he is unable to call.

“In a manner of speaking,” Sherlock Holmes answered with a dismissive wave, no less amused. “Mycroft and I both fill the part, though he’s rather less sociable than even myself.”

“You’re the Sherlock Holmes? The great detective?” I asked, just to be sure, though I really shouldn’t have been surprised that a remarkable chap like Jeeves was related to the brainiest cove of them all. “Jeeves said his family doctor was the Dr. Watson, but he seemed like such an ordinary chap.”

Sherlock Holmes smiled. “Yes, I am he. As for the good doctor, I could not call Watson’s unassuming modesty a virtue; it’s as much a departure from the truth as my own occasional overconfidence.”

The chap sure sounded like Sherlock Holmes. What the nephew of a man like him was doing working for a chap like me was beyond my comprehension, but it doesn’t do to look a gift Jeeves in the mouth - a rather uncomfortable maneuver for all involved really.

Instead, I exclaimed, “Rather! What are you doing out away from the metrop.? Working on a case, what?”

“No,” Sherlock Holmes said, though I thought he may have sounded a little wistful, “I found that it was time to retire triumphantly rather than wait for my career to end of its own accord.”

“You mean to say you’ve retired?” I rather yelped.

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“But Dr. Watson is still working in London, or is he here too?” I glanced around, half expecting the old doctor to materialize from around the corner.

“No, Watson has elected to remain in London for the time being. His practice is a busy one after all.”

“But-!” I hesitated, realizing I was coming awfully close to prying. I know I barely knew the chap; I had met Dr. Watson all of twice and I didn’t really know Sherlock Holmes at all. But I had a rummy sort of sinking feeling about it all, that of course Dr. Watson wasn’t there; a brainy cove like Sherlock Holmes didn’t need a fellow like Dr. Watson following him around, just like Jeeves didn’t really need a fellow like me.

I stammered out, “Well, I always assumed- from the stories it seemed you were such great chums, that unpublished story Dr. Watson gave me especially.”

Sherlock Holmes chuckled. “Watson told me he saw fit to share his account of that case with you. That much of his stories is true; Watson is the dearest friend I have ever known and I have the fortune to be a valued companion to him in return, but there are some things even I cannot do.”

I wasn’t sure I very much liked the sound of that either, but Sherlock Holmes quickly and decisively redirected the conversation.

Now,” he said, “Mr. Wooster, what is it that brings you to my humble cottage in such a hurry?”

I had entirely forgotten my troubles in all the excitement of meeting Sherlock Holmes, and now they came rushing back. “I was looking for Jeeves,” I explained with a glance at the man, standing still and silent as a statue throughout the exchange. “I’m not in the soup yet, but it looms, Jeeves, and I hope you’ve been eating plenty of fish because I’m afraid it will take all your brains to get the y. m. out of this one!”

“Do, take a seat,”  Sherlock Holmes instructed with a gracious wave. “Perhaps Jeeves and I can shed a little light upon your problem.”

“Rather!” I exclaimed, hastily sitting down across from him. “I mean, I’m certain it’s nothing compared to what you must be accustomed to, but it’s deep stuff to me. Jeeves, you might as well pull up a chair; if ever there was a time to flock ‘round, this would be it.”

“Very good, sir.”

Jeeves did indeed pull up a chair, and Sherlock Holmes motioned for me to begin as though I was a client who had come to consult at Baker Street. I cast about, suddenly at a loss of where to begin in front of such an attentive audience.

“Well, it’s like this,” I attempted. “I suppose I ought to start at the beginning. I’m engaged you see, to Natalie Fletcher. She’s a woman among women and all that rot, but her family isn’t too keen on Bertram W. That’s where I was at lunch just before I came here, trying to give her old man a bit of olive oil and what not, but Jeeves, it was an absolute catastrophe!”

“Indeed, sir.”

There was something rummy, awfully soupy, I mean, in the man’s tone that I’d noticed whenever I mentioned my intended. He’d been the same about Bobbie Wickham until the kibosh had been put on that, but unlike Bobbie, who, to be fair, would never give a fellow a quiet moment if he took her to the altar, Nat was beyond reproach.

“Jeeves, I said, “Nat is beyond reproach. What could you possibly have against her?”

“If I may speak freely, sir?”

“Speak away, Jeeves.”

“I do not believe Miss Fletcher would be a suitable match for you, sir.”

“Jeeves, I can’t abide this. She’s a gentle, easy-going soul, not the least bit soupy, with a fine profile besides. I haven’t heard a word against her. She’s exactly the sort of girl a chap ought to want to marry.”

“I am afraid she would not be suitable, sir. Her neck is much too long.”

“Pish! I say pish, Jeeves!” I repeated for emphasis. “I say that she is beyond reproach. Will you object to any girl I choose to marry?”

“I cannot say, sir.”

“Dash it all, Jeeves!”

At this point, Sherlock Holmes cut in, rather like a judge overseeing a courtroom that had gotten a bit rowdy, “Unless you have some serious objection, Jeeves, if Mr. Wooster desires to marry Miss Fletcher or any other woman, it would not be right to stand in his way.” He spoke with a sort of casual delicacy, but I thought I detected something of a more severe undercurrent.

“Rather!” I exclaimed, ready to assert my authority over my man. “I mean, I’ll have to marry someone eventually, what?”

“Not necessarily,” Sherlock Holmes cautioned.

“Not necessarily? You mean never get married? I say, my Aunt Agatha would never let me hear the end of it. Why, it would be almost as bad as running away with a showgirl like my cousin Gussie. She sent me all the way to America after him to try and dissuade him and I couldn’t show my face back in England for months afterward, it was such a flop.”

“Mr. Wooster, do you truly wish to marry Miss Fletcher?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” I asked indignantly.

“It’s not a question of whether you should, but whether you do. If so, I have only to offer my congratulations, but, Mr. Wooster” - here the chap hesitated, and his tone took on a rummy sort of seriousness - “do not forget that you will be wed for as long as you both do live. It’s not a thing to be entered into hastily.”

“Bingo got married after knowing the girl for less than a week and he and the missus couldn’t be happier - a few hiccoughs aside.”

I heard a quiet cough, like a sheep on a distant mountaintop, and we both turned our attention to Jeeves. “If I may take the liberty, sir, Mr. Little’s marital bliss aside, I do not believe that you would be happy if you married Miss Fletcher or any other. Mr. Holmes, I am under the impression that, like yourself, Mr. Wooster is one of nature’s bachelors.”

“What do you mean by that?” I demanded.

Sherlock Holmes seemed more amused by it all. “I believe Jeeves alludes to the fact that I have never had any desire to marry and am none the worse for it.”

I couldn’t help but ask, “Not even Irene Adler?”

He dismissed the suggestion outright.

“Anyway,” I insisted, getting back on track, “marriage can’t be as bad as all that, what?”

“Forgive me for saying so, sir,” Jeeves said, “but the married life would not suit you.”

“You’re talking rot, Jeeves! It wouldn’t be so different, what? We’d need a bigger flat, of course, but Nat isn’t such bad company, and we’d hire a governess to look after the little blisters. I hear Nat has a pretty lady’s maid, I’m sure you’d get along swimmingly.”

“Sir,” Jeeves interjected rather gravely, “it is a policy of mine to never work for a married man.”

That simple declaration of Jeeves’s stopped me short. I could have sworn I nearly heard a thump as my heart seemed to drop out of my chest and hit the floor. Of course, Jeeves had mentioned this peculiarity of his before, but it had never truly registered that the chap really meant it.

“You really mean that, Jeeves?” I asked.

“I am afraid so, sir.”

“What about all that ‘tie that binds’ rot?”

He seemed to hesitate. Of course, I never really believed that the chap would work for me forever. Eventually a brainy cove like him would inevitably tire of Bertram W. and seek higher things, but I didn’t think a silly little thing like marriage would be the thing that broke whatever tie it was that bound us.

“Sir, I do not believe that marriage would suit you.”

“Jeeves,” Sherlock Holmes said sharply, “this decision is for Mr. Wooster and the woman he wishes to marry to make alone.”

“No, it’s all right,” I said. Jeeves had given me a rather lot to think about, and I had little doubt I would mull it over all the way home and then some. All I knew then was that all of a sudden, Nat wasn’t looking nearly so rosy.

Sherlock Holmes regarded me with his famously keen gaze. His eyes certainly felt like they could uncover any secret I dared hide from the chap. I couldn’t say what it was he was searching for, but after a moment or two he seemed to find something that settled the matter well enough, and we all turned to other things.

Eventually, Jeeves and I stood to take our leave. Sherlock Holmes followed suit to shake our hands and bid us farewell.

I was already most of the way out the door, but Jeeves lingered a little on the threshold. “Mr. Holmes, I will convey your greetings to Dr. Watson.”

Sherlock Holmes waved it off. “Thank you, Jeeves, but Watson is a busy man, he needn’t be troubled about a retired old man like me.”

“I believe Dr. Watson will be very pleased to hear from you,” Jeeves replied, as though he’d only heard half of the words Sherlock Holmes had said.

“Very well,” Sherlock Holmes said airily. To my surprise, he turned to me with something of a conspiratorial glint. “Jeeves has a way of always managing to get whatever he wants, against which one must be careful to guard.”

“Bunny told me it’s always been like that,” I said.

“Yes, I imagine so. Jeeves has possessed such a talent for as long as I have known him.”

“That is very kind of you, Mr. Holmes.” Jeeves said not quite graciously.

To Jeeves, Sherlock Holmes imparted a pointed word of advice, as any aged relative seems compelled to do, “Be careful that you do not take it for granted.”

“Indeed,” Jeeves replied, his tone a measure more soupy than respectful, but Sherlock Holmes made no objection.

At last, I bid Sherlock Holmes, “Toodle-pip,” and then Jeeves and I hopped back into the two-seater, bound for home.

Part of The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves.