#jewellery items stolen

[marlinspirkhall]

I hope the things missing from the british museum randomly turn up in museums at or closer to their sites of origin months down the line from now & the new curators are like “Oh, this? We stole it fair and square.”

[aangelinakii]

a possible idea for your soulmates part 2 - maybe reader crosses paths with bruce wayne and has a weirdly similar experience of being unable to lie to him. if reader puts two and two together or one of them manages to get away before realisation hits - it’s up to you.

THE NIGHT SHIFT.

— what's he doing here?

summary : after batman let you off with a warning (of sorts?) you decide to lay low for a bit, lay off the house burglaries for a bit, maybe get a job in the mean time. adhering to capitalist culture and all that. however, you have an encounter with bruce wayne that leaves you just as confused as your encounter with the dark knight.

note : thank you so much for your suggestion it really helped !!!! i'm kind of thinking of continuing this 🤭 but i'd love some suggestions from here !

part one here

it wasn't ideal; getting caught, getting interrogated by the bat, not being able to mask your words with the oppsite of truths, and then getting let out. unlike your usually chaotic lifestyle, it was difficult to get your head around, even a few weeks later.

sky dark, save for the few streetlights that were dotted around the sidewalk, you pressed the button on your keys to lock your car behind you, hearing a beep to let you know it was now locked up tight.

desperate times call for desperate measures; like hitting the grocery store thirty minutes to midnight because you realised you were out of ramen packs. and to clock in to your night shift.

late nights were something you were used to, even now, as you were currently trying to stray away from robbing unsuspecting people. but it was sickening, having to give in and get a job.

fuck capitalism, really. you much preferred getting an income by pawning the goods you stole from the bourgeoisie.

even in the late, late hours of the night, the convenience stores stayed open, and there was always at least one customer in there. so you were never really alone.

you, with your plastic bag of ramen packs lingering by your feet as you stood behind the counter with a name tag pinned to your shirt. you, with almost a million dollars worth in jewellery and riches hiding in a lockbox beneath your bed at home. you, who hadn't been able to lie to the bat.

funny how things work out.

that annoying sound that chimed through the store when the doors open came again, and you glanced up, although unable to make out the figure from behind the shelves and their basebell hat, so your eyes trailed down to the cctv monitor on the till.

the footage was fuzzy, grainy, and did nothing to help you identify the customer, but sometimes it was fun to try and figure out if you've stolen from them before.

squinting to no avail, you took a step back and let out a soft sigh. sure, nights were fun, and you spent most getting up to no good, but this was tiring.

standing around, talking to people who are either high with the munchies, or are buying cigarettes. it takes a lot to not groan and roll your eyes.

as tonight's customer approached, you began to think some flavour would be added to your night shift.

from beneath that cap, you could recognise those eyes anywhere. pale blue beneath dark, mildly furrowed eyebrows, chiseled jaw and angular nose. the face from newspapers, the face from television, the face from billboards you pass each and every day.

the face you tried to steal from that night you got caught.

he placed one of the blue plastic baskets on the till, offering a polite smile, before his eyes met yours, and the expression faltered.

"good evening, sir. how are you?" you smiled, pulling the items from his basket to scan them. it wasn't every day bruce wayne came into your little supermarket. not in this part of town, anyway.

it wasn't like you had any experience being famous, but it probably was better to do your night shops away from where the paps would find you. if your personal assistant was sick.

but bruce wayne didn't give you the assumed automated reply you were expecting.

"i know you," he stated, seemingly shellshocked by what he was seeing.

eyebrows creasing slightly, your scanning paused momentarily, grip on the laundry detergent faltering. "you.. do?"

the way you spoke wasn't starstruck — like anybody would be if bruce wayne told them he knew them, for whatever reason — it was suspicious. after all, you had tried to steal from him only a few weeks ago.

what if he'd found out where you worked, and came all the way here to kill you?

his lips trembled, jaw in place as it hang slightly open, eyes still on you. "uhh..."

this guy was nothing like how he seemed on television.

he looked like he wanted to say no, but he blurted out, "yes."

brows twitching for a second, you looked down to continue scanning, placing the laundry detergent into a plastic bag. he's bruce wayne, he can pay an extra ten cents.

"i'm sorry, i don't recall." you glanced back up at him, reaching for an energy drink. "i think i would remember meeting you, sir."

"right," bruce wayne responded frigidly. if bruce wayne could be nervous, you think that's what he was right now. "of course."

but you were curious now. as you scanned and packed, you asked further. "so, mister wayne. where did we meet?"

the billionaire customer before you seemed to gulp, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his head, coming from the rim of his cap. you were making this really difficult for him, and you didn't know why.

finally, you scanned the final product — a block of parmesan — and placed it in the ten-cents plastic bag, and bruce wayne answered your question, causing you to freeze.

"you tried to steal from me."

when you finally looked up, after a moment of the deafening thrum of your racing heart in your ears, the man looked just as out of place as you. his hands were curled into fists, shaking by his sides anxiously, and his jaw was tense as his molars clenched in the back of his mouth.

sorry, i have no idea what you mean.

that's what you were supposed to say, what you'd meant to say. but the words that truly came from your lips were, "i didn't actually take anything, i hope you know."

"i know."

despite the words not being what you meant to say, and the utter horror shared on both of your poor faces, the conversation seemed to flow. you couldn't help the smile of recognition that appeared on your lips, despite yourself, and him.

"i was the one that caught you."

once again, your smile faltered, a crease forming in your forehead. bruce wayne had caught you? no, he wasn't there.

clearly what was going on here, was that he'd been to a party and had too much bubbly, decided to come here for reinforcements (to keep away a hangover). he wasn't in his right mind, and would probably benefit from you not telling anyone about this.

you dragged your eyes away from his form, a hot red flush forming upon his face.

"um.. your total will be $15.25."

wordlessly, he opened his leather wallet and placed a twenty on the counter, before grabbing the handles to the bag and walking off quickly, the doors chiming as he left, leaving you fizzing with confusion.

hey, at least you didn't have to work out the change.

[grinsgrimmy]

Hello, Writer-nim! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

I'm a new fan of your blog! I really like how you write! ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩 I saw that your drabble request slot is still open. I'm just wondering if you'll be able to write a character from 'Death is the only ending for the Villainess'? For Callisto Regulus, specifically? ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ

Like, Reader finds a jar that's full of trinkets and it's so familiar to her because these are all the trinkets she gave to him since they met. And it's like Callisto's greatest treasure. ૮⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ ა

Thank you in advance, Writer-nim! 화이팅~! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

Ｔ Ｒ Ｅ Ａ Ｓ Ｕ Ｒ Ｅ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖢𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮 𝖱𝖤𝖦𝖴𝖫𝖴𝖲 𝗑 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

DEATH IS THE ONLY ENDING FOR THE VILLAINESS

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 drabble. (816 words)

sum. you found a jar on callisto's dresser. the content in the jar were familiar to you

note : thank you for your request and kind words, anonie! it took me a while to do this because i could not exactly understand callisto's personality for some reason. I ended up summarising his personality to be NEARLY the same as sylus from love and deepspace. regardless, I FINALLY DID NOT GO OVER THE WORD LIMIT !!

drabble request slots have reopened !

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

“aren't you so bold to snoop around the crown prince's bedroom, dear?”

callisto mused, leaning against the doorframe with that insufferable, arrogant smirk of his. he eyed you going through his bedroom with an amused glint in his eyes.

clearly, he was enjoying the sight of you getting caught in the act.

you did not actually mean to snoop around callisto's bedroom. you had been waiting for him when he was busy getting dressed. since you had nothing to do, you let your eyes mindlessly wander around his massive yet empty room.

it was not as though you were trying to find something. you were just idly passing time while waiting for him. but then your eyes landed on something that sat sitting on his dresser that was oddly near his bed.

before you could think twice about what you were doing, your curiosity got the better of you. hence, you ended up investigating what that odd thing could be.

when you gazed upon the item. it was an old, weathered glass jar, though the content within it were certainly new. you took a moment to process what exactly it was that gave a tug of familiarity.

the trinkets were so familiar to you.

you would have not bat an eye on that glass jar if it were not for the contents in it.

then, callisto caught you in that moment.

which led to callisto standing in the doorway, giving the most annoying smirk known to man alongside that look of bemusement.

you felt your heart racing when you were caught. though you knew you were not guilty, you felt as if you were touching something so incredibly intimate to him.

you straightened up immediately. your hands instinctively moving to your back to hide the jar you took from his dresser.

you took another long gaze in the jar without shame to ease your curiousity. after processing it, it caught you by surprise when you realised what those were.

the trinkets and other items within it were tiny gifts you gave callisto over the course of your time together.

small tokens of affection or silly, spontaneous, or callisto decided it would be better to steal it from you.

each trinket within it brought back memories of the two of your shared moments you did not know you needed to remember.

a pebble from your garden that you gave to callisto during your early days of meeting him to boldly mock him. several jewellery you gifted (and stolen) to callisto. two overworn handkerchiefs and other tiny content you saw—

all these small, seemingly insignificant gifts you had given to him,

you never realised he had kept them.

it hit you hard. you could not even comprehend what you felt seeing the jar.

affection? adoration? nostalgia? disbelief?

there were too many thoughts running through your mind.

your fingers tightened around the jar unconsciously, as if shielding the vulnerability you felt at that moment.

callisto, the annoyingly observant man that he is, noticed your change in expressions. he gave you a knowing look as he took a slow step forward to you.

“i had no idea you were so sentimental, darling,” he commented with his usual teasing tone, yet it was laced with something more.

you opened your mouth to speak, but your words were tangled in your throat. you were caught by the strange, warm ache in your chest that you could not explain.

“i didn't know you kept these...” you croaked out, trying not to sound vulnerable, but your voice was softer than you intended. you glanced at the jar again with disbelief.

his lips curled into a tiny, gentler smile, yet he managed to maintain his arrogant smirk after. he took the jar from your hands carefully. you noticed he was cradling it almost reverently, scared it would break.

“this is where i store my greatest treasures,” callisto murmured, his voice almost tender when he glanced at the content within the jar.

his eyes shifted to you. he placed the jar where it belonged, then his fingers brushed against yours. he gave a knowing grin. “if i could put you in here, i would,” he said teasingly, but you could sense that he actually meant it.

he then leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. the warmth of his lips lingered longer than you expected. it was a quiet gesture, but it was profound to you, as if it were a promise.

in that moment, you realised it was not just the objects that made you sentimental, it was that callisto had truly seen you. all these tiny things could have been easily overlooked, but he cherished it.

callisto cherished you.

"thank you," you whispered. the words carried heavy meaning. you gave him a smile, a sincere one without artifice. a smile that caught callisto off guard.

callisto then smiled, a smile that matched yours— genuine and sincere, far more than either of you had anticipated.

・❥・want a hc / oneshot? please consider commissioning in ko-fi !

[meyousing]

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠, ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥: “i’ve tried to be tolerant, but your disobedience has reached a limit i cannot ignore.”

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: as the love of your life and possibly even your soulmate, you were bewildered and disappointed to find out that chrollo would take the troupe’s word over yours.

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤: yandere chrollo x reader, manipulation and gaslighting, power imbalance, not necessarily a soulmate au just using the word for emphasis :) also uvo makes a dramatic appearance ONCE AGAIN… is this a sign that i should write something for him ??

Chrollo really is the love of your life. There is nothing that he wouldn’t do for you, no task too large, no matter at all what he would have to do to make it happen. It was only natural for him to keep an eye on your every move, an ear on your every word, to ensure you were being good. As dedicated and thieving as he was, he couldn’t just do everything for you while you rebelled and went against his wishes, where is the fairness in that? 

You, blissfully ignorant on the other hand, were enjoying your time with Chrollo and his troupe immensely. He had done so much for you, spoiled you, and treated you like a princess, both before and after telling you the truth about his lifestyle. Not to mention that the troupe treated you like gold personified, and it didn’t even feel like favouritism just because you were the “Boss’ Girl.” 

Machi had brought you stolen gifts before, like jewellery and expensive clothes because she thought you would like them. Of course, her ideas about what to pick had developed by watching and observing what Chrollo would bring you, though she would never admit that, simply replying that she only had a hunch you’d enjoy them. 

The boys of the troupe (usually Phinks and Uvogin, but the others always backed them up with agreement) would ask about people from your time before meeting Chrollo, and if there was anyone who they would need to teach a lesson to. You would only ever laugh, thanking them for the offer of protection but telling them that nobody had ever wronged you enough to warrant that. Insisting that the offer still stands, they would leave the topic but never fail to keep bringing it up as the days went on. 

You were very happy with your new life. Chrollo was a bit neurotic on the day that he decided to let the cat out of the bag, sporting a brand new look you had never seen in your time with him, explaining that you would be living differently now, you would travel with him and be by his side all the time, where you could have anything you ever wanted. Truthfully, the idea of spending the rest of your time beside him was already a lone factor to seal the deal, and he already spoiled you so much that you couldn’t expect anything to feel very different, with this just being a version of your relationship where you wouldn’t stay in one place.

 The spoiling part was not ever what excited you though, it was simply Chrollo’s show of care and attention to detail that had you falling head over heels. Nobody else had ever spent so much time and given so much devotion to ensuring your happiness, finding items catered to your tastes and interests. His choosing to go the material route was in his nature, you personally never cared much for the finer or more expensive things in life, though after discovering Chrollo’s true nature it made much more sense to you now. Who were you to not indulge the interest of your beloved? You may have been happy, but it was a shame that the feeling was not mutual. 

It was very early in the morning, earlier than what your new routine had you used to. You must have been jet-lagged, considering you had only been in your current location for a little over a day. Seated beside Shizuku, you watched and waited as she shuffled a set of cards, readying them to be passed out for you and a few of the others to play some rounds of Go Fish. With it being so early, you had awoken before Chrollo and decided to wander around the halls of your headquarters, to see who, if anyone else, was awake as well. You found yourself in what everyone decided was the main room, spotting Shizuku, Phinks, and Shalnark as they sat closely, cards already in hand. It was Shalnark who instantly spotted you peeking around the corner, asking if you would like to join them, saying that their game had barely started and they wouldn’t mind shuffling one more time. You gladly accepted, figuring a game or two couldn’t hurt as you waited for Chrollo to wake up. 

You shifted your eyes between all three of them, watching over their varying expressions and trying not to giggle at Phinks’ visible show of boredom when picking up his cards. You knew that as much as he enjoyed spending time with everyone, his own interests were certainly directed towards more upbeat scenarios than ones like this, he must have been just as eager as you for Chrollo’s arrival.  

“Is Boss up too?” he asked suddenly, tearing you from the small daydream you’d mustered up with a glance in your direction and verbal, indirect confirmation of your thoughts. You shook your head. 

“We were talking about how jet-lagged we felt last night, he’ll probably be out for a few more hours.” you shrugged then, frowning down at the cards in your hand as you noticed just how fatigued your eyes felt. 

“Guess it had the opposite effect on you then, eh?” he chuckled. You smiled with a chuckle of your own and nodded, not feeling too talkative as your tiredness started setting in now that you had acknowledged it. 

“Are you guys ready?” Shizuku asked, scanning over each of you. Assorted nods were given, with an upbeat “yup!” of agreement coming from Shalnark. One more voice came in a moment later.

“Not quite, I’ll have to borrow Y/N for a moment.”

Everyone looked up, mutual surprise adorning your faces as Chrollo stood in the doorway with hands concealed in his coat pockets. You noted how he looked ready for the day, fully dressed with his hair styled as if it hadn’t taken long at all, as if you hadn’t only been in this room for maybe ten minutes.

“Coming” you murmured, smiling apologetically at the others before getting up to rejoin Chrollo. He began walking when you met his side, a hand finding your waist as he guided you back to your bedroom. You hadn’t looked at his face for too long since his appearance, and despite being a quieter man you felt that he was being uncharacteristically quiet now. Even the way he opened the bedroom door and gestured to you to go in first, face nearly blank once you looked up, despite the chivalrous act. He didn’t even respond to your thanks, the only form of a reply being his gentle slam of the door as you shuffled over to the bed and sat at the end. He joined you shortly, gazing at you with heavy lids that you couldn’t quite discern. Was he feeling…lustful? Or perhaps he was disappointed, maybe you had done something wrong? But what could you have done? 

“Y/N, I’ve tried to be tolerant, but your disobedience has reached a limit I cannot ignore.”

Okay, it was the latter. You blinked in confusion, his words not reaching your brain in what should have been the right way (was there a right way? what did you do?) as you were sure that simply waking up and spending time with his troupe was not disobedient. If anything that should have made him happy! 

“What did I do?” you asked, concern lacing your features as you hugged your knees to your chest, self-soothing since the look in Chrollo’s eyes was starting to unnerve you. He blinked slowly, his breath deepening as he began to sigh and his hands met.

“I heard you laughing back there. What was so funny?” His voice was relaxed.

“Nothing?” you frowned, unsure of what exactly he was talking about. Your tone itself was questioning, dripping with confusion, yet it was misinterpreted by Chrollo, likely as some kind of snark when you saw his expression fall further. He held off on speaking for a moment, instead taking his time as he held your hands and moved to face you completely. You couldn’t help but mirror him by squeezing his hands gently and letting your legs fall back down, his affectionate actions combined with such borderline accusatory words only muddled your mind. 

“I understand that you may feel lonely when I join the troupe for the jobs that I assign them to. Do you think that gives you the right to try flirting with the other men while I’m away? Have you tried to seduce them into this very room?” 

Your brows furrowed deeply. 

“What gave you that idea?” 

“You didn’t think that they wouldn’t tell me, did you?” 

“Who?!” You clutched his hands a little tighter, completely bewildered not only by his claims but also by the idea of someone feeding these lies to him. Why would he take their word over yours anyway? Yes, this troupe has been with him since the beginning, but you had never deceived him before. You had no reason to start now. Perhaps you would have to voice this to him, considering his intensity had not let up yet.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters more is your indiscretions, and the painful thought that you assumed you could get away with them, right under my nose.”

 Yes, this confirmed that you would have to voice your thoughts to him.

“But it’s not true! I’ve never deceived you before, why would I start now?”

“Do you think my own troupe would deceive me, then?” He sat stiff and his eyes widened impossibly so, boring into you with such a suddenly dark aura, it made you feel like you were shrinking beneath him. 

“N-no, of course not” you nearly whispered, heartbeat speeding up when you realized your mistake, an eager urge taking over you to fix whatever mess you could have just gotten yourself into with a single, not so well thought out sentence. Caressing his wrist with your thumb, pressing your thigh to his, daringly reaching your other palm up to his face so you could press it into his cheek. Anything you could do to alleviate the sudden anxiety that you were feeling at the idea of being forced out of Chrollo’s good graces for something you never did. “I just want you to believe me, I would never–”

“Hey boss, I was–oh… you in the middle of something?” The door swung open unceremoniously to reveal Uvogin, whose expression went from casual to awkward. Tears rimmed your eyes at the sight, that feeling becoming mutual at the exposure of your current emotions and situation. 

On any other day, you were certain that Chrollo would be unhappy that a troupe member barged into his room without knocking, let alone permission. 

“We were just finishing up.” Chrollo stood then, exerting minimal effort to tear himself away from you completely and stand just a few feet away. You couldn’t help but keep your hands on him for as long as you could until he was entirely out of arm's reach, your cheeks burning in your own embarrassment when your limbs fell back into your lap with a thump. He faced you, keeping his back to Uvo and giving you the most gut-wrenchingly sweet grin. “Y/N will be staying in this room for a little while until she remembers the rules of our relationship. It’s upsetting that she forgot at all, perhaps this new schedule will clear her mind of such impurity.” Swivelling around on his heel, his back was to you now as he walked to the door.

Y/N will be staying in this room? He couldn’t be serious! You couldn’t find your voice, couldn’t think of any words to say, all you were able to do was shoot up from your spot and stay in place. You knew that trying to walk to the door would prove useless, as your anxiety had reached its peak and your entire body became numb, feeling like you were outside of it. 

“Oh, shame. Hey, it’s for the best though.” Uvo patted Chrollo’s back, squeezing it and beginning to walk away with him, his other hand reaching back for the doorknob. Please, no!

With the rest of your body frozen, you could only move your eyes which were trained intensely on Chrollo, noting how as he walked out his face looked different from the way it was mere moments ago. He looked neutral and much less sarcastic, if not more on the side of smugness as a soft grin began upturning his lips. 

The door slammed shut, made especially loud thanks to Uvo being the one to close it. The sound solidified the fact that Chrollo was leaving you, with an apparent visit inbound, but when? Collapsing back onto the mattress when your legs finally gave out from beneath you, you stared blankly at the ceiling. How could Chrollo have gone from so hopelessly romantic to disbelieving within mere moments? Everything had been just fine… yet a one-sided conversation was enough for him to make such a drastic decision. Your welcoming to Chrollo’s criminal lifestyle was done with ease, you had no problem turning a blind eye to your own morals because you fell in love with him, he was the love of your life. Perhaps what you truly fell in love with was not Chrollo, but a version of himself. One that was limited and crafted perfectly to your likes, wants to make you easier to control. Had you fallen for such a scheme so easily? 

Overthinking proved to be good in only one way, it made you even drowsier than you already had been, so at the very least you could sleep some time away as you waited for your beloved to come back to you. 

–

“I mean…you knew I wasn’t serious, right?” Uvo scratched at the back of his neck, his forehead wrinkling as he feared the worst, that he accidentally meddled in the Boss’ business, the Boss’ relationship, just for the sake of getting a few laughs. 

“Of course” Chrollo chuckled, patting Uvo’s back reassuringly. “But your timing was rather convenient, she was starting to get a little too comfortable with getting her way. Best to remind her who’s in charge, you were simply the catalyst to allow me to do so.”

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

[lord-armitage]

My ASOIAF hot take is that while I love the Greyjoy's as characters, the world-building for the Iron Isles is the weakest in the entire series, verging on just being bad.

They're a maritime power nation, historically the strongest military source in the world prior to aerospace, and GRRM had to nerf them by making every Iron Island leader a raging idiot who would repeatedly Leeroy Jenkins their way into embarrassing defeats. They're meant to be a stand-in for Vikings, but they lack any technological advances, education, advanced war tactics, intelligence networks, etc, which made the Vikings so powerful in the first place.

I also think there was a missed opportunity to make the culture of the Iron Isles... jauntier? More pirate-like? Where are the sea shanties? Where are the lavish descriptions of fresh seafood? Ironborn Ladies who mix in stolen jewellery with seashells and gull feathers? Are luxury and exotic items treated as common objects for a nation of naval traders? As it stands, the Iron Isles are a few miserable rocks inhabited by bastards who everyone else hates.

Idk I just think it's lazy world-building to make a terrible failcringe society that no-one in universe likes just so we as readers are meant to think "wow these guys suck."

[hutahuta]

Subtle things he do when he in love with you with pavia?

P.AGE OO.3— 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

GN!Reader — // wjajqksjwjs ilysm anon you're such a sweetheart !!! (*´▽`*)ﾉｼ

request more !! they're so fun.

i hope this is okay,, i'm not sure if I did good with this jwkskwkskk

Subtle? Ha. What's subtle about this man? ( *ᴗˬᴗ)⁾

But maybe. — it is possible.

Midnight Intimacy — Hear me out, I don't think Pavia would really sing in front of you. ( Or he might, it depends really. It might be really exaggerated since he does really want to hear your laughs. ) But he definitely hums a quiet melody, maybe even sings the words a little then and there under his thick accent as he holds your tender body close to him, rocking back and forth as if the both of you are sitting on one of those rocking chairs. Familiar songs that were popular dated back to the 1990's.

An era where music hit its prime with vinyl records and static radios with its rocking music blasting away at the seams, what's not to love about such things? I'd imagine it's something he finds quite joyous about life, given the only music he'd ever hear was the taps of water draining on the ground and the mice squeaking in quiet unison with one another. Silence was all he'd ever hear so hearing something so uplifting with words that strung out together so perfectly in mesh with the instrumentals; must've made him feel like music is the reason life has any meaning at all. And he wants to share that with you. Even if it's something so small as singing and dancing in that moment.

Spoiling you. — Wallets and leftover items that he'd pick up from his prey definitely meant that he'd get a chance of spoiling you with jewellery as a advantage to trap your attention. Even if you aren't keen on receiving lavish gifts, it doesn't matter. Because you're definitely given the necklace of a man's wife that he took it upon himself to grace you with. Maybe even a new watch plucked out of someone's wrist, which Pavia's ever so refined fingers had strangled the last, paled words out of his prey's throat before he had stolen the goods inside.

I'd imagine that as much of a passionate man he is, Pavia isn't keen on sharing much of his collections with strangers. But he is quite big on exhibiting his beautiful cabinet if it's with you, full of his draped stolen jewellery that can be given and devoted to you. New rings and chains to adorn your perfect clothes. Bby wants to impress you. Maybe a pair of earrings that would suit you quite nicely. His way of showing his love to you may vary from physical touch or spoiling you with his gifts.

Which does bring another factor into play.

Physical Touch. — Nearby, he may trail a hand down your thigh whenever you two chatter amongst each other. His hands graze your arms softly, trying to pay attention to your words as he can't help but linger his fingertips through your back. His hand stays a little too long on your waist. Eyes dance back and forth from your nose to your hands. Your clothes, your facial expressions and movements.. everything. His eyes may linger on you for longer periods of time,,

Don't take this as 'psychopath' behaviour. He just wants to get a feel of his beloved. What's not to love about you anyways? You're perfect in his eyes. All for him to keep too? Feels like the universe finally rewarded him with something so great in his life after his entire childhood was spent being greased and rotted away in a basement under the neglectful back of his Aunt.

Scent. — I suppose you can somewhat see it, right?

He enjoys the thought you wearing his clothes. His perfumes, his scents, he wants to make it rubbed entirely upon your body. He may get too close, nudging your shoulder with his chest. Maybe leaning into your ear for too long as you can feel his hands gripping and kneading the soft material of your clothing. He undoubtedly has the mindset that having you embroider his aroma may make others think that you are somewhat affiliated with Pavia. In more ways than one.

Historians may tell others that you two were only the bestest of friends.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Into the Snake's Den

----

Things going missing in a household of four wasn’t uncommon, really. It was normal enough to misplace a sock on laundry day, or get one of your shirts mixed up with someone else’s and never see it again, or misplace one piece of jewellery from a set. Losing things was not out of the ordinary, what was out of the ordinary was just how often it happened for this particular household.

Logan theorised they potentially had borrowers, and if that was the case Patton was content to let them stay, though Roman had always brought up the point that who - or what - ever the culprit was, it was stealing items much too large to be a borrower. Patton had offered the idea that perhaps it was a fairy, or a spirit who lived nearby, in which case the group was even more eager to drop the issue.

That was until something important went missing a few weeks later.

----

| Ao3 |

Warnings: None as far as I'm aware

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP

Word Count: 4548

Notes:

I wrote this entire thing in one setting with encouragement from some awesome folks in the big bang server - I love you guys, lol.

Honestly, naga!janus in a non-explicit fic is so underrated - I think there really needs to be more snakey cuddles when the opportunity is so perfect, lol.

----

“Hey Pat - have you seen my cloak?” Came Virgil’s voice, sounding loudly through the house.

“No, bud, I haven’t seen it!” Patton yelled back as he worked on dinner, “Have you checked with Roman? I know he likes to borrow it sometimes-?”

His voice got quieter as Virgil actually joined him in the kitchen.

“I’ve already asked him,” He said, “Thought you might’ve washed it or something without telling me.”

“Nope… laundry day is tomorrow.” Patton shrugged and Virgil groaned. 

“Not again… that was my favourite cloak…” He mumbled, rubbing his face as he practically collapsed into the comfortable sofa next to Logan, who was reading a book on spells. 

Things going missing in a household of four wasn’t uncommon, really. It was normal enough to misplace a sock on laundry day, or get one of your shirts mixed up with someone else’s and never see it again, or misplace one piece of jewellery from a set. Losing things was not out of the ordinary, what was out of the ordinary was just how often it happened for this particular household. 

For the most part, it was things that weren’t really missed. Small things that didn’t matter all that much - little trinkets, an inexpensive belonging, usually something replaceable but personal. Sometimes it was more valuable items, jewellery - stolen especially from Roman and Virgil, who wore it most often - Art supplies from Patton or magical ingredients from Logan. 

Less often, but still notably more often than would be considered normal, bigger things went missing. Items of clothing, blankets from their beds, even pillows, occasionally. Other belongings - occasionally personal things too - would go missing too and Patton would find that a portion of whatever he had cooked would go missing as if by magic when he turned his back enough that he had started simply making extra. This had all started about a year ago, too, which leant more to the idea that this was suspicious. 

Today, it seemed, Virgil’s cloak had been taken. Patton could only assure him that they would get him a new one next time they went to the market. Nothing that had been taken had ever been returned. 

Logan theorised they potentially had borrowers, and if that was the case Patton was content to let them stay, though Roman had always brought up the point that who - or what - ever the culprit was, it was stealing items much too large to be a borrower. Patton had offered the idea that perhaps it was a fairy, or a spirit who lived nearby, in which case the group was even more eager to drop the issue. 

That was until something important went missing a few weeks later.  

—-

“Something’s not right,” Virgil hissed as he shook Logan awake one night.  Logan immediately got up, striking a match to light the candle on his nightstand and looking at Virgil - who’s eyes looked black in the dark. 

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, something’s wrong, I feel it,” He whispered, following Logan as he stood. The others had learned early on in their relationship that Virgil’s intuition was incredibly good; when he said something wasn’t right, he was almost always correct.

Glancing around as Logan paused to think, Logan’s eyes settled on a charcoal drawing that Roman had done of the four of them he kept in a frame, “Have you checked on the others?”

“Yeah - they’re both sleeping,” That was protocol, when Virgil felt that something was off in this way - he’d check on them first. 

“Alright, that’s promising - come on, we’ll check the casting room first.” Logan said. It was most likely that if something was wrong, that would be where it originated. A stray potion, a spilled pot of some ingredient messing with the aura of the place - not to mention Logan’s casting orb. 

The casting orb was a simple yet fairly rare magic tool - it allowed witches, like Logan, and other magic users - to store certain spells, keeping them constantly in place. The one Logan owned was mostly used to protect their home from any malevolent forces, there was one to grant them luck and it cast a generally positive magical aura that made it easier for all of them to perform their respective magic. 

When the pair entered the room, Virgil gasped. 

The door that led out to Patton’s greenhouse was wide open and from its glass case, the orb was missing. 

“Great,” Virgil said sarcastically. 

“We have to get it back,” Logan said immediately, “Not only is it incredibly valuable and dangerous in the wrong hands, but it is essential to keeping the others safe.”

Virgil’s expression twisted into a frown, “How are we gonna do that? We don’t even know what took it.”

“I’ll - figure something out,” Logan said, already heading over to his bookshelf, “If you could wake up the others?”

—-

“What are we doing out here in the middle of nowhere at whatever time in the morning again?” Roman complained as he led them down a barely trodden forest path, cutting back branches with his shimmering sword - that also served as a torch to light their way. Virgil was wearing a spare cloak that Patton was also sheltering under, clinging to Virgil’s side as the shadows swirled around them. Logan held his softly glowing staff and read from a book as they walked. 

“Left here, Roman,” Logan said quickly, “Sharply - and we’re looking for the creature that has stolen my orb.”

“Couldn’t this have waited ‘tll the morning?” Roman asked, veering left and swinging his sword in front of him to cut back brambles and clear a makeshift path. 

Virgil huffed, “You know how important the orb is, Princey, don’t be stuck up about it.”

“I just need my beauty sleep- woah…” Roman’s voice trailed off.

“Yes, your highness,” Virgil says with an exaggerated eye roll, though he fell quiet as he came into line beside Roman. Patton squeaked and Virgil gently squeezed his shoulders.-  trying not to pay attention to how the spare cloak was so scratchy and wasn’t the right size. Logan sighed.

“The trail goes in there,” Logan said, which none of them wanted to hear. Roman audibly groaned, both Patton and Virgil tensed. 

“That’s a naga den, no doubt about it,” Roman said quietly, looking at the large, dark cave entrance that lay open wide before them. A warm draft came from inside. Virgil wouldn’t mind it so much if it weren't for the suspiciously bone shaped - sticks, they were definitely sticks, he just shouldn’t think about it too hard, and he should absolutely not mention that within Patton’s earshot, “How important didja say this orb was? Like - is it worth our lives?”

The book in Logan’s hands snapped closed and he placed it carefully into his bag, placing both hands onto his staff instead, “We will not die as long as we do not mess this up.”

“And how exactly do we do that, specs?” Virgil asked gruffly - because how the fuck were they supposed to deal with a naga? Sure they were all magic users, but they weren’t that powerful.

“Well… Nagas are possessive, dangerous creatures,” Logan says, “Though their main defences are their tails and fangs, so long as you avoid getting caught in its tail you should not get hurt, hopefully, it will be sleeping and we will be able to sneak in to get the orb.”

“Don’t they have the best sense of smell and hearing like… ever, though?” Virgil asked, still looking at the cave, “And other crazy magic?”

Patton shivered, “Would- would it already know we’re here?”

“Well- It hasn’t come out to fight us, so I presume not,” Logan says, trying to placate, “If we can keep our spells and attacks ranged, we should all be okay.”

A dramatic sigh came from Roman’s right, “If you’d said that when we were at the house I would have brought my bow.”

Virgil glared at him, “You can channel magic through your sword, idiot.”

“Yeah - but the arrows are better-”

“Stop-” Logan commanded, both of them fell silent, feeling suitably cowed, “Unless you want to wake it up?”

With a sheepish look, Roman looked at his feet, “Right, sorry L.”

“Patton, you have your potions?” Logan asks a moment of silence later. 

“Yep - they’re mostly healing, though, I also brought snacks.”

“Well - I suppose the healing will be useful just in case,” Logan sighed, “You and I will hang back, Virgil and Roman should go in first.”

“What- why?” Roman protests.

“Your spells need line of sight and aim, if we are ahead of you you will be heavily hindered, mine do not,” Logan said, Virgil raised an eyebrow and he sighed and continued, “You are also a heavy hitter, and your shadow teleportation ability will make it easier for you to dodge, especially in a shadowy cave, plus you can see better.”

Virgil sighs, but doesn’t say anything - that reasoning is pretty sound., he supposed. 

“Are we ready?”

—-

The cave was dark, but unlike Virgil had expected, it didn’t necessarily smell bad, nor was it super damp - though it was a little humid, he supposed a naga would enjoy that.  The tunnel into the cave was fairly long, enough to make Virgil more and more nervous as they slowly and near silently traversed it, their path only lit by Roman’s sword. Something on the ground caught his eye and made him stop, Patton almost walked into him and whispered a quick ‘are you alright’ to him as Virgil bent down to pick it up. 

“Ro,” he whispered, “Light?”

Roman moved his sword closer to the thing Virgil had picked up, a small purple gemstone on a hooked wire, “I swear that’s familiar,” Roman whispered. 

“It’s my earring,” Virgil says as they continue to look at it, “The one I lost like a month ago?”

“Does that mean…” Patton whispered, before Logan nudged them both and put a finger to his lips, before pointing ahead of them. 

“Oh..” Roman whispered. A short ways ahead of them seemed to be the entrance to a much larger chamber, from which warm light seemed to spill into the tunnel. The four of them exchanged glances. Virgil especially shivered looking at it, that didn’t look like a particularly shadowy cave to him. “hm- before we go in, just in case we don’t come out.”

Logan tried to protest against Roman’s volume before he was pulled into a gentle kiss.  When he pulled away, Logan had a fond look on his face. Meanwhile Roman turned to Virgil and then Patton and did the same thing. 

That felt far too much like a goodbye. 

“Roman-” Virgil whispered before Roman was striding towards the chamber entrance, Logan reaches to grab him and pull him back but misses the back of his shirt by an inch. Virgil glances back at the other two and hurries after him, not about to let Roman be a self-sacrificing idiot for their sake. 

—-

When Roman reached the entrance of the chamber, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting and stopped short, rather than rushing in as planned. 

A naga, of course, and that’s what he saw, but he’d expected an intimidating, hissing creature, with coils and coils of tail ready to strangle or crush them, hissing with fangs ready to paralyse them with venom, he’d expected something dark and uncomfortable, not…

“Is that my shirt?” He asked dumbly to noone, only for Virgil to punch him in the arm for speaking so loudly, he turned to pout at him briefly before looking back at the scene before him. 

There was a naga, sure, and he was a little intimidating just for that fact, but really… Roman couldn’t force himself to be scared when he tried. 

He did have a mass of scaly tail that Roman was certain was strong enough to crush his bones, but right now it was coiled up and half buried in blankets he recognised, blankets, sheets, clothes and pillows that had been periodically going missing from their house. The naga’s tail was covered in shimmering gold and black scales, the gold glittering in the gentle light that filtered into the cave via some kind of magic and the black was iridescent. His torso too was a golden tan, flecked with the same shimmering yellow scales as his tail almost like freckles and cascades of soft looking warm brown hair obscured half of his face. 

In the naga’s arms was another pillow, though this one was dressed in what Roman was certain was one of his shirts that had gone missing fairly recently, his forked tongue was half out in his sleep in a frankly adorable ‘blep’. Roman found he could fathom fighting this creature less and less with every little detail he noticed. 

“This is…” Virgil whispered next to him. 

“Everything we’ve lost,” Patton finished, nodding. 

“But why?” Logan asked quietly, ever curious. Roman nodded, unable to help agreeing with the question - why did the naga want their things? Was this weird? Maybe a little, Roman thought it was almost cute. 

Roman turned his gaze to Logan as he seemed to scan the room, before his eyes settled on something, “The orb,” he whispered, pointing, “It’s over there.”

Right, that’s what they were here for, Logan’s orb. Roman followed his gaze to a small pile of trinkets across the room - all Logan’s things. His gaze slid to the other piles  scattered around, there was one for each of them. 

“I’ll get it,” Roman said eventually, already going to step forward before Virgil put his hand on his arm. 

A twisted, anxious expression was on his face and Virgil looked like he would rather be doing anything else right now, but he still said, “No - let me - I’m quieter.”

“Maybe,” Roman says softly, “But you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to be killed either-”

“I can take care of myself, V, it’ll be okay,” 

Patton shushed them hurriedly and the four of them turned to look at the naga, who murmured something and hugged the pillow closer whilst his tongue flicked out against it to smell the air, though he seemed to still be asleep. Logan seemed to realise something.

“This room is full of our scents already,” Logan whispered, drawing the attention of the other three, “It might not even notice we’re here - but we should still hurry, just-  do rock paper scissors if you have to.”

Roman turned to Virgil with a grin and held out his fist, Virgil rolled his eyes like this was a stupid idea but joined him in the game anyway. Roman won. He barely resisted crying out in victory, but he did punch Virgil affectionately before he smiled at the others and began making his way slowly around the edge of the chamber. 

Halfway there, the naga stirred again, but simply nuzzled into the pillow with a yawn that showed off his massive fangs, the mass of tail shifted, but he still didn't wake up. Roman put even more effort into being quiet until he reached Logan’s pile, picking up the shimmering orb carefully with both hands. He made eye contact with Logan before throwing it across the room. He almost laughed at the panic in Logan’s eyes as he casted a levitation spell on the small ball and brought it slowly back to himself, placing it carefully into the bag. Logan glared at Roman, who shrugged and took a step to make his way back. Having been looking at Logan, though, and not his feet, Roman found himself accidentally stepping on something that cracked under his foot. Loudly.

A wave of panic washed over him as the naga’s pointed ears pricked and he woke, this time his eyes blink open slowly and his gaze immediately locked onto Roman - he can’t help but think what striking colours they are. One is a striking gold, just like his scales, the other is almost black, but shimmering with an iridescent rainbow. Roman thought he ought to be worried about how he was about to die as the naga tasted the air, but he was frozen on the spot. Barely a glance at his lovers showed that they were terrified as well. 

For a moment, he and the naga simply stared at each other and he mentally begged the others to run. In a blink, and that’s really how fast it was - Roman couldn’t have possibly reacted - the naga struck, coiling his tail around Roman and lifting him from his feet. Of course he struggled, but the naga was strong and he had dropped his sword when the tail had wrapped around him, there was nothing he could do as he was brought face to face with the - admittedly incredibly beautiful - creature. He wanted to look at the others, but he also didn’t know if the naga knew they were there - and if he didn’t then Roman didn’t want to draw attention to them. If he was going to die here, he would have to make sure they could get out. 

He had expected the naga to squeeze him to death, maybe sink those razor sharp fangs into Roman’s skin and kill him slowly. The naga drew closer and flicked his tongue to smell him, Roman squeezed his eyes shut in preparation but no pain came, instead he felt cool lips pressed to his forehead. It was then that he realised a few different things at once.

First, the naga didn’t want to kill him - he would have done so by now. Second, his scales were cool and smooth where they pressed up against Roman’s bare arms, his tail wasn’t squeezing too hard. Though Roman couldn’t really struggle or escape, he could breath easily, it felt more like an embrace. Third… the naga had just kissed him. Now he was being stared at with a look that seemed like hopeful awe. 

“You…” Roman whispered, not being able to come up with words to express what he wanted to say - which was rare for him. Why was this beautiful thing looking at him like he hung the stars?

One of his hands came up to cup Roman’s face and he found himself leaning into it purely on instinct. The naga’s hands were cool and half scaled and it felt nice against his warm skin - and Roman had never been one to shy away from touch. Roman was passed then from the naga’s tail to his arms, where he was cradled against his strong chest. Despite the fear he had felt mere minutes ago, Roman couldn’t help the way his brain was screaming ‘safe’. He curled into the embrace. 

“Mine,” the naga hissed in Roman’s ear, his voice smooth and warm like melted chocolate, the sound made his breath hitch, “Ssssmokey one, you are ssso warm.”

“Let him go!” Patton's voice comes from the entrance to the chamber. Both Roman and the naga turn heads to look at him. Logan seemed to be trying to get Patton to be quiet and Virgil looked to be mid-panic attack. Roman felt a little bad. The naga moved closer to them and Patton tensed the closer he got. 

“He isss not hurt,” the Naga said, voice gentle as he turned a little to show Roman to them. Roman gave them a little wave and it seemed to placate the three of them just a little, “The little human iss but mine - and sso are you, my gems.”

His tail quickly hoists Patton into the air as well, but leaves his arms free unlike he had with Roman. Patton squeaked, flailing a little until he too realised he wasn’t being killed. When the naga drew him closer, he reached for Roman’s hand, he quickly took it. 

“Put them down,” Logan said, voice monotonous but hiding a venom that Roman could recognise, “We are not yours to hoard.”

“You are mine to love, little witch,” The naga says, “My little humans,”

Patton and Roman both found themselves lowered into the centre of the admittedly amazingly comfortable nest. Roman immediately scrambled over to Patton, pulling him into a gentle hug as the naga turned his attention to Virgil and Logan. Although they had been freed from his hold directly, they were still separated from the others by coils of the Naga’s tail, so they simply sat and waited. 

A stretch of silence passed as the naga’s eyes tracked Virgil curiously - the normally vigilant light-wielder didn’t seem to notice, focused on searching for something in the mass of blankets instead. 

“What are you looking for, little one?” he asked, curling himself around Virgil and making him jump badly and look around to face him. Virgil seemed to freeze, but the naga remained as passive as ever. 

Another silent moment passed, “...my cloak,” Virgil admitted softly, “The big one you - you took a few weeks ago.”

Barely a moment passed before the naga slithered to a spot and dug through the blankets to pull out a mass of black fabric, decorated with purple embroidery which he brought back to Virgil - who stared at him in surprise and wonder. 

“I liked this one,” the naga said, placing it around Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil immediately let out a sigh of relief, practically melting into the fabric, “It'sss big.”

“Yes,” Virgil said quietly. The naga offers him a hand that he tentatively takes and Virgil is carefully lifted to stand on a coil of his tail, steadied by the naga’s hand as he’s brought to join Patton and Roman, who accepted him into their hug gently, earning a fond smile from the naga, who then turned his attention back to Logan, who was growing less and less steadfast in his resistance by the moment. 

“You haven’t usssed that on me yet,” the naga says almost conversationally, gesturing to Logan’s faintly glowing staff - which he was clutching like a lifeline, “What are you waiting for, little witch?”

“I-” Logan faltered, “You…”

The naga hummed, “Will you join uss, little witch?”

Logan frowned, pausing, “What is your name, naga?”

A smile spread across the naga’s face, “I am called Janus,” He answers, voice still gentle.

“I am Logan,” Logan says, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ssso polite,” Janus hisses, edging forwards toward him.

“You’ve been stealing from us for months.” Logan backs up a step and Janus pauses, “Why?”

This seemed to give Janus pause, since he actually stopped to take a second and think about his answer. Roman found he was curious as he grabbed a red fluffy blanket - one of his favourites that he had lost - from the top of the pile and wrapped it around his shoulders. For that he earned a pat on the shoulder from Virgil and a kiss to the cheek from Patton. 

“I wanted my humans near me,” Janus said eventually, “But you would not come, I had to make do.”

Roman couldn’t quite work out whether that was absolutely adorable or kind of sad.

“Is that why you took my orb?” Logan asked, taking off his bag and placing it carefully behind him. Proceeding to carefully put his staff down with it, “So we would come here?”

Janus looked away, an almost embarrassed expression overtaking his face. Roman couldn’t help but share a smile with his loves. Virgil smirked back and Roman just knew  from that look he was holding back from teasing the naga that technically had them hostage and vulnerable viciously. “Perhaps.”

“You could have simply approached us,” Logan said, his tone minutely softer. 

Janus raised an eyebrow and simply gestured to his tail, which took up the majority of the large cavern. 

“Right,” Logan said, frowning, “Yet you managed to sneak into our house to steal?”

“Nagas have magic too, little witch,” Janus hissed, finally approaching him properly, carefully and slowly wrapping his coils around him to lift him and place him in the nest with the others. Logan seemed curious, but Janus didn’t seem willing to elaborate as he placed Logan in their little circle. Patton immediately reached for him. 

Meticulously, Janus picked over the four of them, taking their weapons and adding them to a small pile as well as anything breakable or uncomfortable. Roman had difficulty giving up his sword’s sheath - even if the sword itself had been left on the floor of the cavern already, but Janus promised it would be safe in his hoard and lifted Roman gently so he could see where he placed it. The others were easier to disarm, especially Logan - who had already left his things at the door, so to speak. 

When he was done he coaxed the four of them to lie down with a gentle voice and soft, alluring words, promising them safety and comfort as he buried himself once more in the blankets, laying himself down so he wrapped the four of them in his coils and his human torso could lie amongst them, allowing himself to wrap his arms around Roman and for Virgil to share his cloak. Logan held Virgil carefully from behind and Patton found himself laid across all four of them, his head in Roman’s lap and his feet in Logans. 

“My little ones,” Janus whispered as the lights above them dimmed, a hand carding through Virgil’s hair where his head rested against Janus’ shoulder, his lips brushed Roman’s forehead and he reached to brush a hand over Logan and Patton’s faces in turn, “My lovely humans.”

Patton let out a content hum and squirmed a little to get comfortable, Roman heard Logan let out a happy sigh. 

“So warm, so sweet,” Janus hissed softly as he tugged Roman closer, burying his face in his shoulder. Roman had always run the warmest of the group. 

Patton fell asleep first, and then Roman next. Logan fell next, with a little gentle coaxing from the naga until it was just Virgil. 

—-

“You are still scared, little gem,” Janus said softly, brushing  the hair from Virgil’s face, “My little amethyst, what scares you?”

It takes a long time for Virgil to answer and in that time Virgil meets his eyes and Janus knows without him saying a word that it’s him Virgil is afraid of still. 

“How do I know you won’t turn on us while I sleep?” Virgil asked, even despite his fears his voice is still quiet so as not to wake the others, “How do I know they’re safe.”

“I will protect them,” Janus says softly, leaning forward and kissing Virgil’s forehead. Roman makes a soft sound and shifts in his sleep, one of his arms wraps around Janus’ waist and he sighs contently, “I love you all, my sweet ones, I will protect you, I promise.”

“How do I know that?” Virgil insisted, “How do I know you’re not lying.”

“Do you have a bad feeling about me, my amethyst?” Janus asked softly, cupping Virgil’s cheek with a hand. 

Virgil takes a long moment to consider, before he eventually shakes his head. His eyes are wide. 

“No,” he says softly, meeting Janus’ eyes again, “I think you’re good.”

“Then trust me, little human,” Janus hissed softly, the sound practically luring Virgil to relax. He takes a deep breath and… does. 

Virgil falls asleep with the others and Janus keeps his promise.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

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[boabel]

wanted to do one of these, inspired by the lovely @persephoneprice !!!

[writernopal]

OC Deep Dive Tag

I got tagged by @tabswrites (here), @captain-kraken (here) and @pheita (here) for this one! Thanks guys so much 🥺

Tagging (gently): @paintedbutton @teamdilf @daisywalletchains @void-botanist and anyone else who'd like to play!

We'll do Axtapor for this one because I miss him 😭

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Maybe its a bit meta, but he fears rejection above all else.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Shitty knot tying skills. He can't stand it and has absolutely dismissed men from their stations for tying crappy knots and not keeping their area neat.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A pipe, a dagger, and an iron file for his claws.

What do they notice first in a person?

How much they're worth, as in, are they wearing lots of jewelry? fine clothes? etc.

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

9. Though he is loud when he gets hurt.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

FIGHT, 1000% lol. He won't back down from a fight even if the situation is grim.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

His nuclear family is small by Lizardfolk standards. His parents only had one clutch, so he's one of six children. His extended family/clan is quite large though as Clan Oxlo is the founding Major Clan of the House of Dreams. As far as being a family person, he absolutely is, even though he doesn't necessarily think of himself as one. The way he sees it, its just something that he has to do at some point in his life to carry on his clan name (he's an old bachelor) but, uh, well, that changes after he meets a certain lil lady.

What animal represents them best?

A hyena. More about that here.

What is a smell they dislike?

Human sweat. He HATES it. He's described it as smelling like a corpse.

Have they broken any bones?

Yes. He broke his leg once when he jumped down a dry well at 8 years old. He's also broken countless other things since then. (Fingers and tail vertebrae mostly) Hazards of the job as it were.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Probably intimidating or mean. He looks quite gruff when he's in his own thoughts and is very short with people he doesn't know.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

Morning bird, especially because he hunts and sailing also requires being up early in the day, esp as first mate. But his favorite time of day is golden hour.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

I don't know if there is a specific flavor he hates but he doesn't really like sweets. As far as a flavor he loves, whatever grasshoppers and fish scales taste like lol.

Do they have any hobbies?

Smoking, hunting, and bushcraft camping.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

It really depends on who is throwing it. If its his grandma or Mariel, then he's stoked, otherwise he's probably lukewarm about it. But either way, it wouldn't stop him from downing a few celebratory drinks and smoking some good tobacco.

Do they like to wear jewellery?

Yes and so much of it. He likes to wear what he's stolen during pillages and will often pick and choose what he steals based on his tastes.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Messy lol. Its basically chicken scratch because he's right handed but after an accident a few years ago (a boarding hook through the palm) he had to relearn how to write with his left hand. He doesn't quite have the motor skills in his right hand as he used to even though its healed and his left is still not the best, so using a claw quill like most lizards do is pretty hard for him. He opts for the more human form of writing: using a quill.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Angry and horny lol.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

I don't think so, he kind of just wears whatever is comfortable and easy to move in. He tends towards both human and lizard fashions, which come in a wide array of fabric options, sometimes the same fabrics (linen, cotton, occasionally silks), though the cuts are obviously different. Most lizards won't wear human clothes because they think its ugly but he likes it because he can get it pretty easily at most of the ports they visit. He also enjoys fine spun wool in the winter as well as animal pelts.

What kind of accent do they have?

Whatever this is lol: “I nay know yer Everwatcher. Fact been, I could give a shite ‘bout her, seein’ as she will no show her face, so her word or trust in ye has nary a meanin’ to me. Stand in for yerself and let me weigh ye proper, or we be leavin’ this place.” In all seriousness, it really depends on what language he's speaking. He speaks several but most often in AASOAF is speaking Common or Hamatian (native language of Ihama where he was born). I made a post about AASOAF's languages here but to recap, Common is not based on English, rather Old Spanish. This means they would have Spanish-like accents if they spoke our English. In world, especially for Lizardfolk, learning Common is challenging because their mouth shape isn't fit to make the softer, rounder sounds of the language, so they often sound very aggressive, like they're biting their words when they speak. They also bring Lizardfolk inflections to the language when speaking it, Axtapor will also do this and often adds glottal stops where they shouldn't be or punctuates words with a short hiss or click. His Hamatian is very good, and sounds like our Sanskrit, but leans a lot more into the sing-song rise and fall of the language due to the way Lizardfolk vocal anatomy is. It also incorporates hisses, clicks, bassy thumps produced from the chest and throat, and on occasion, chattering. As a nobleman, he was brought up speaking the formal or Halto variant of the language as well as Meddia and Lajo variants. He will switch the variant he uses depending on who he's talking to, though they will sometimes mix, especially if he gets wound up about something, and he ends up sounding a little country.

[duchessofostergotlands]

Lol, not a fan of stealing artefacts now British Museum?

[shmowder]

You broke the law, congrats, keep it up.

But not everyone is born with taste, unfortunately, and your little endeavour was put to a stop by none other than the Alexander Saburov himself. A pillar of piety and fidelity (Ha.) One of the town's standing virtues, a saint in the making.

Flutter your pretty eyelashes at him all you want. No matter how tantalising you look clad in those tight thief clothes, stolen jewellery adorning your neck, fingers, and ankles, glittering as beautifully as the starry sky above, Alexander remains unimpressed.

To town hall you're dragged, literally, his grip is steel solid against your arm. Much more tricky to remove than any clunky old pair of handcuffs you could slip from with a simple trusty safety pin or two.

The cat has finally caught the mouse.

The jig is up. All those precious gems and jewellery that you've rightfully earned by breaking and entering homes like any honest working person–were stripped from you. Thrown into a simple wooden box to be returned to their previous owners come morning.

Of course, you weren't pleased, to say the least, and you gave Sasha a piece of your mind. You worked hard for those.

Does he know how difficult it is to dig through someone's closet in the pitch dark while remaining as quiet as a mouse?

Bah, all that effort wasted.

He's giving that same look that you hate, the disappointed one. You could handle anger. You could handle disgusted snares and rage-filled glares.

...But pity? it sank like posion into your stomach, it stung more than broken glass below your bare feet.

What made it worse was how he refused to argue back. Refused to acknowledge the insults you threw his way, never dignified your tantrums.

Merely looking at you with the deep concern, sorry eyes and thinly pressed lips, as if he failed you.

How many times has it been? How many times did he catch you, and you'd escape the next day? How many reform attempts he put you through only for you to betray his trust and go back to your old habits the second the door to the cage is left unlocked.

You were never going to change, you made it very clear to everyone around you.

Yet he stubbornly refuses that notion, never allowing this seedling of hope to wither no matter how many times you set the whole field ablaze.

Replanting it, time after time, carefully, gently.

Patiently.

Alexander... no, Sasha never changed, not once ever since you were kids.

Neither did you, neither can you.

Be it standing at the playground together, scolding you over stolen chocolate chip cookies while wiping the crumbs from your mouth before your mother comes outside.

Or standing here alone at the town hall, scolding you over the stolen gold and rubies while taking it upon himself to return these items befoere the residents file even more complaints and reports about you, before the judge can get involved.

Sasha was simply Sasha.

And you were....

You.

You knew what was going to happen next, you've memorised this song and dance. The questions would begin, the house addresses, the names, the motives, the break and entry method.

Who sold you the lockpicks, and who provided the information on these people?

Why do you do this? Do you need the money that badly? Why not work an honest job?

Do you realise the severity of this crime? Did you have any accomplices? Is someone paying you to do this?

If you needed the money that badly why not come to him? Why not ask him? Why not answer his letters?

Are you aware that you could've been shot if they had caught you? Are you aware just of how much you're endangering yourself?

What made you resort to these desperate actions? Or do you just enjoy the thrill?

Is life just a game to you?

Did you forget the promise you two made?

Your mother can't stand to look at him on the street, she blames him for how you turned out.

He still apologises each time.

Are you eating well?

Professionalism starts melting away as the questions get more and more personal.

It was too much.

You wanted him to shut up, you needed him to shut up.

One step closer, that caught his attention. His hand immediately covered the pistol under his coat. He really needs to stop being so obvious, you thought as you took another step closer.

Then a third, a fourth.

Your chest pressed against his, your arms circled his neck.

He never pulled back, as if he was frozen in place.

His lips tasted of bitter coffee, dry and chapped. Yours weren't any better, yet he still melted into them as if they held the cure to his aching heart.

It was slow, with no teeth at all. Soft, sinfully innocent.

Desperate as he tried not to let you slip from his fingers, attempting to hold you closer, pull you flushed against his own body to try and hide you from the world.

Pouring his emotions into it, showing his vulnerability plainly for you to take advantage of.

Naively hoping you will see reason, you must.

Please.

You have to.

Not many people can claim to have seen Alexander Saburov crumble from a simple kiss, let himself fall and shatter into a million pieces. Even less could claim to have ever seen you put someone together, mend the wounds rather than cause more harm.

Be selfless and allow him this moment of selfishness, to dare and dream of a different life, a changed soul.

You pull away first, because you always do.

He chases after you, because that's all he knows.

You're breathless, his face is flushed.

People will arrive soon, the two of you step away.

Your world feels much colder, his arms hang heavy by his sides.

Escorting you to the jailcells on the lower floor, you don't mention the lack of handcuffs as you head inside.

The door is softly shut, the lock clicks into place.

Soon after, a tray of food is slid under the hatch.

Warm bread–he must have gone out, in the middle of the night–a tightly shut bottle of milk.

The usual customery meal, wasn't it for the carefully wrapped handkerchief in the middle of the tray, one chocolate chip cookie inside.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Morpheus and thief!Reader

I've been thinking about this concept more than I care to admit. Full fic is on its way.

"So, you do that often?" you ask casually.

Shining the light of the torch around the spacious hall, you realize Foxtrot wasn't boasting when he called this place his 'private museum'. It was very English of him, actually: a palace filled with stolen goods that he claims are his. Inside countless showcases are truly remarkable items known to most people as imaginary artefacts from fairytales: weaponry, chests, manuscripts, jewellery... Wait, is that part of Excalibur?

"Open doors?" he asks in a confused tone.

You shine the torch in Dream's direction. His pasty skin is nearly glowing in its yellow light. Humans would squint their eyes or shield their faces but not him - he just stares blankly at you, hands in pockets of his coat as if he didn't just break into a private collection of a famed thief. Maybe he felt better telling himself that he was only taking back what belonged to him. "Break into girls' apartments," you spit out.

"I did not break in."

"Oh, I'm sorry, trespass into girls' apartments."

Dream, however, is unmoved by your irate tone. Casually strolling through the majestic hall of marble and glass, he walks past you. Surprisingly, he's not even looking at the magical wonders gathered in Foxtrot's 'museum'. "I make a polite guest to polite hosts."

Jogging up to him, you continue the subject of his apparent lack of understanding of privacy. "Still, you could have knocked."

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Dream is significantly taller than you, making his glance look more patronizing than it really is. "Would you have opened the door for me?"

"No."

The march through endless corridors filled with stolen artefacts continues in silence. If Foxtrot still has the pouch, he's displayed it somewhere prominent where it would be in the centre of attention. Once people see it, he'll forever be remembered as the madman who dared to break the one rule thieves have and stole from the Endless. Surely, Foxtrot will conveniently forget to mention your dirty work.

Your blood is boiling. That treacherous posh bastard.

[outeremissary]

🍉🍪🍕 for Ismene?

Thanks for the asks, Ash! This took longer than expected because after drafting the answers I went to fact check some lore and um. Spent over an hour reading about libraries. Whoops!!

[prompt list]

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

Ismene has a black velvet choker she wears almost constantly (an item which is fortunately easy to keep secure on the road and in fights). The choker was a gift from Imoen from not long after Imoen was first brought to Candlekeep, and one with some backstory to it. Around that time Candlekeep had hosted a noblewoman for several weeks who was a dedicated lover of scholarly pursuits bursting with admiration for the monks of Candlekeep. It had been her dream to visit the great library and learn from it, and she treated the hallowed library and its keepers with nothing but the utmost reverence. For the other residents of Candlekeep, however, she seemed to have nothing but contempt- even for the little elf girl who helped to mind the reading rooms and who carefully shelved the books for the librarians between visits. Ismene became a frequent target of the woman's ire. The woman complained frequently of her presence, berated her for her presumed background, treated her as a servant, and harshly criticized the work she did. After a day where Ismene attempted several times to correct the woman for violating the rules of a reading room, the woman went to one of the Great Readers and went on at length about the girl's insolent behavior, accusing her of singling the woman out for harassment and attempting to steal from the woman's bag.

Imoen saw Ismene crying after being scolded over the accusations, and the morning after the woman suddenly found herself with real problems on her hands. Somehow a bottle of ink had cracked in her bag, leaking all over her fine clothes and ruining pages of her careful notes. For the rest of her visit she seemed tormented by an endless string of accidents. Things broke or went missing, her food burned, the floors outside her room were always just slick enough with half done mopping for her to slip... Although she went to Winthrop more than once over these incidents, her complaints fell on deaf ears after weeks of tormenting the inn's staff with false claims. On the last day of her stay, the woman reported frantically that a favorite choker, one which she had worn frequently during her time at Candlekeep, had gone missing. Although she turned half of Candlekeep upside down searching for it, she never managed to find it, and she left the library fortress disconsolate over its loss. That night Imoen presented it to Ismene as a gift. The girls have been fast friends ever since (though they did both get in trouble over the clearly stolen item).

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to your OC?

Any of the many things that remind her of Candlekeep- she misses her home dearly, and has not been happy to leave. The smell of books, the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun in a comfortable seat by a window, the droning sound of chant... Any of it can take her back for just the briefest moment. Maybe the most potent, but thankfully the least bittersweet, moments of sentiment come from time spent with Imoen talking and braiding hair as if they were girls again. Ismene isn't one to voice gratitude, but she's incredibly thankful for Imoen's companionship.

🍕: How does an OC spend a lazy day?

Ismene spends huge portions of unoccupied days sleeping. She can easily sleep for more than twelve hours when not interrupted, and she doesn't mind the time lost. She loathes having to wake before dawn to maximize daylight while traveling; even though elves have no real need for sleep she always sleeps on rest days in towns like she's catching up from weeks of deprivation. Of course, in her eyes her sleep is far more valuable than the sleep normal people experience because of the visions she receives in her dreams.

Aside from sleeping, she enjoys reading and will spend her waking hours squirreled away in a library given the chance- in the small towns of the Sword Coast these are often collections belonging to temples or wealthy private individuals, and identifying who locally has a worthwhile collection to attempt to access is one of her priorities when arriving somewhere new. Often there's little truly new and worthwhile in these collections relative to Candlekeep, but occasionally she's pleasantly surprised. Although on other occasions she is prematurely escorted out of the library after revealing to unhappy owners expensive forgeries or offering unsolicited critique of the gaps in their collections...

I wish I could say she had other things she spent time on as a hobby, but unfortunately Ismene is the number one nerd who never goes outside unless dragged and it really is mostly that.

[cindylouwho-2]

Etsy Listing Removals Under The Creativity Standards - How To Appeal

As I detailed last month, Etsy has recently been deactivating quite a few listings under the new-ish Creativity Standards, and is not allowing many sellers any right to appeal. A lot of items have been removed simply because their photos were stolen and used on other sites. Some shops have been suspended, again without any real ability to appeal.

However, some shop owners - including myself - managed to get listings reinstated despite initially being told that was impossible. While there is currently no guaranteed way to force Etsy to look at your evidence their bots erred in some way, there are methods that seem to help, and also some things sellers should never, ever do.

Below, I am sharing my best tips for forcing Etsy to reconsider takedowns and suspensions under the Creativity Standards, as well as ways you can draw attention to this very serious issue.

Step 1: Make Sure The Removal Was Due To The Creativity Standards

There are numerous reasons Etsy might close a shop or place an item in your inactive folder, so don't assume it is a breach of the creativity standards unless Etsy tells you that. For example, sellers often get suspended for perceived risks based on their personal or financial information, or their customer service history.

Even when just a single listing is removed, Etsy may have done this based on the rules in the Prohibited Items policy. There are lots of things that cannot be sold on Etsy, including recalled vintage products, many sex toys, and listings making medical claims. Other reasons for deactivations include legal claims of intellectual property infringement. Those are treated much differently than violations of most other policies, and therefore need a different approach by the seller.

While Etsy does make mistakes, usually the email will state the correct policy. So check that email first before assuming this is about someone stealing your photos.

Step 2: Make Sure Your Item Was Actually Allowed Under The Creativity Standards

This step may sound obvious, but so many rules have changed lately that we are seeing people assuming Etsy is wrong when in fact the shop's listings are no longer allowed. Even if you know your photos were stolen by AliExpress, for example, make sure you take the additional step of being completely sure you have a legitimate reason to appeal.

Etsy used to permit the following items on the site under the previous handmade rules - or sometimes didn't enforce those handmade rules - but now bans the following:

bundles of AI prompts

"mystery boxes" where the contents are truly a mystery - every item must be clearly described

a commercially-made pendant on a commercially-made chain - note that the hand-assembled rules now require using jewellery tools to add a charm to a chain, so just sliding a pendant you bought onto a chain you bought is no longer sufficient.

We've seen all of the above removed, and Etsy will likely get more aggressive in this area in the future.

There is also the issue of mockups being used in the first image when a physical product is shipped and the seller is not using a production partner. Etsy banned that as of July 9, and although I am not aware of any takedowns that were positively due to that rule yet, we should expect it eventually.

Personally, I would not be inclined to appeal a takedown where my listing might have another violation, except maybe when Etsy confirmed that they removed my item because its photo was found elsewhere. It's always best not to call attention to yourself when dealing with Etsy policies.

Step 3: Check To See If You Can File An Automated Appeal

So you are sure that Etsy made an error when they removed your item under the Creativity Standards, or suspended your shop due to multiple such removals. What next?

Etsy has an Appeals page, and when you click on it, it tells you whether or not you have any issues that can be appealed. When Etsy removed my listing, this is what I saw:

So I could not file an automated appeal, and had to open a regular Support ticket.

Suspended shops are more likely to have the official right to appeal, and should appeal through that page if possible.

Step 4: Pull Together All Of Your Evidence

One of the biggest mistakes Etsy shop owners make is automatically appealing as soon as they have an item removed or are suspended. Don't appeal right away. Make sure you have everything you might need - including video of you making the items and of your supply purchases, and proof you have filed legal takedowns for any of your stolen photos elsewhere - before even considering hitting that appeal button. Telling Etsy "I would be happy to provide X" in your appeal is not going to help you; submit everything they could possibly want upfront.

Depending on your situation, you might need:

video of you or your shop members making the item. Showing your supply stock in the video is extra proof

proof of supply purchases - invoices, photos or video of labelled supplies

for stolen photo claims, proof of DMCA takedowns or other copyright removal cases you opened

for stolen photo claims, the original photos before you cropped or otherwise changed them. Having the original data still attached is best

proof you own the other shops or sites where you sold this product and used the photos

any previous correspondence you had with Etsy regarding the affected listings - some shops have the same items removed repeatedly, even after Etsy staff previously admitted the deactivation was an error

for vintage items, proof of age, or certificates of authentication

If you appealed in haste and now realize you forgot something, try to update the information. This may be as simple as adding to an open ticket (which you can do here), or contacting Support through chat or a call back so they can do it for you.

Step 5: Appeal

Once you have collected everything, you are ready to appeal.

If doing this through Etsy's Appeals Center, you will have to answer questions in their format. If you cannot use the Appeals Center, you will need to submit a regular Support ticket using this link for listings. [Shop suspensions should usually have the right to appeal through the Appeals Center.]

Keep it short, professional and factual, and only speak directly to the suspected reasons. Don't tell them the history of your shop, or how much money you lose daily while the listing is deactivated, or how frustrated you are with Etsy. All of those things are valid, but they do not matter to Etsy Trust and Safety. Give yourself the best chance of winning this by being concise and calm. Save the rest for if you have to go public with your complaints.

Which leads us to...

Step 6: Escalate After Etsy Rejects Your Appeal

At the moment, Etsy Support is telling most sellers they cannot appeal listing removals, so almost all tickets opened will receive a boring cut and paste telling you why they can't help and how you need to read the email you received carefully to learn what you did wrong. Of course, that email gave you almost no useful information, so you seem to be back at square one.

Fortunately, there are several different ways you can try to get Etsy to consider your appeal:

Keep trying with Support/Trust and Safety; I was rejected the first 5 times. Stick with one ticket until they close it; only then should you open another. Try live chat on your Shop Manager page (bottom right corner) or request a callback if that option is available to you. [Please note that any phone numbers you find online for Etsy are likely scammers; there is no line to call in. You need to request they call you back.] Mention that Josh Silverman said we could appeal listing takedowns that were due to the reverse image search bot, as I did. Sometimes Support will give you more information about your deactivation, including links to the stolen photos, or links to very similar items they say prove your item isn't handmade. This could be very useful in solving the problem. However, whatever Support says, do not relist the item yourself. Some shop owners have followed Etsy advice to create a new listing and then had those taken down too. Even relisting with different photos can be risky, especially if Etsy has not told you that stolen photos were the issue.

Post a thread in the Etsy forum. Although a moderator will almost certainly close the thread, they also usually escalate your complaint with other departments. I've seen people get help within 24 hours after posting there, although not very often lately.

Go public with your complaint; Etsy hates being called out publicly, especially if the post gets traction. For example, tag Etsy on a post about this on different social networks. LinkedIn has worked for some people. A few sellers got their problem fixed after filing a complaint with the Better Business Bureau, for some reason. (Even though the BBB has no real power, Etsy seems to take them seriously.)

Try to get media attention. Etsy hates that even more than viral social media posts. Feel free to show them my article.

Get legal advice. Depending on the jurisdiction, there could be significant issues with Etsy removing items and suspending shops without proper notice and accountability. You may be able to report this to government authorities. Some people are reluctant to even look at legal options, but they can sometimes be the best solution to some Etsy problems. Unfortunately, I am not aware of anyone currently willing to take on all of these cases at once, but many areas have free or discounted legal advice for artists and small businesses, so many sellers should be able to find a lawyer if they want one. Call around and ask for referral advice if the first office you reach cannot take your case.

How Can Etsy Shops Avoid Takedowns Due To Stolen Photos?

Let me be clear right off the bat - there is no way to guarantee Etsy will not deactivate your items or suspend your shop over stolen pictures. Since some of the removals have been for selling items similar to those on other sites and not the exact same photos, anyone could be caught by these image bots. It's not even limited to handmade items; some vintage sellers and supply shops have had Creativity Standards takedowns as well.

The most important thing you can do to prevent this is go after as many photo thieves as you can. If you have a small shop, you may be able to do this yourself, doing reverse image searches and filing DMCA/copyright claims. I've found this Chrome extension very useful for tracking down images, because it covers many different reverse image search engines. It's not enough to just look at one, as they all have different results. TinEye, for example, often misses Etsy listings.

Here are the reporting portals for the top sites that Etsy seems to be searching for duplicate images:

Shein

Temu

Alibaba (includes Aliexpress)

If this job seems overwhelming, your other option is to hire someone to do it for you. You can go with an individual agent, or register with an online service such as Pixsy. They will continuously scan for your copied photos, with the first 500 for free. Pixsy is probably the best known company like this, but there are plenty of others out there.

Yes, all of this costs time and/or money. But Etsy doesn't care how much it hurts you. It seems unlikely that the company will roll back this aggressive set of bots doing Creativity Standard removals, or that they will hire more staff to monitor these claims without charging sellers even more for basic services such as Support. So, these are the options available - protect yourself as much as possible, or risk having items removed.

More disturbingly, a seller was recently told that a solution to the problem was not to sell the same items on other online marketplaces:

While this was probably yet another error by first-tier Support, it may actually be Etsy's hidden intent with this issue, even if not a written rule. Etsy now wants to be the destination for unique items; I've written about how that is likely to hurt any shop that is posting items for sale that can be found elsewhere or easily replicated.

It would honestly not surprise me at all if Etsy is taking multiple approaches to whittling down repetitive search results and reducing the number of small sellers on the platform, and the faulty bot removals are an official part of that strategy. Make it harder to sign up for the site, then remove or assign lower rank to any listings that appear to be made of common components or from common designs that can be duplicated by others, even if they follow all of Etsy's rules.

If that isn't the corporation's goal, then Etsy needs to fix this problem now, and provide a timely right to appeal.

[bullet-prooflove]

The North Star - Part Three: Her Worse Half (NSFW) - Terry Bruno x Reader

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after 'Blood Out'. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @legit9thlunaticwarrior @bbyxoo @the-adzukibean @xoxabs88xox @crazy4chickennuggets @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life

Part One: Moments

Part Three

It's late but you're still here in the precinct, still staring at the same whiteboard as this morning with pictures of the Jameson family stuck to it. Each one is precise, lined up perfectly with Sinclair’s neat block capitals alongside side it. He’s the only person you let write on this board, he’s the only one with handwriting that everyone in your team can read.

Your gaze lingers over the image of Travis Jameson, hands bound behind his back, duct tape slapped over his mouth. His face was bloody, his skull cracked open, brain matter embedded on the plush cream carpet underneath. They had gone at him with a baseball bat, laughing like hyenas while they slaughtered him in front of his wife and son. It was a thrill for them, the two of them had taken turns while a third had watched over the other victims. 

It had been the fourteen-year-old son Damon who had told you all this. His mother Tricia was still in the hospital in a coma after they smashed her head against the corner of the coffee table when she wouldn’t stop screaming.

You rubbed your hand over the back of your neck, your fingers brushing over the white scars embedded in your flesh. You followed the trail of the largest one before it disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt. There were more, they littered your shoulders and upper back like speckles of paint, flicked from a brush.

“Oh, pretty girl, you’re a work of art. You know that?” Terry smiled against your skin, his lips brushing each and every scar as the heated water rained down on you from the monsoon shower head.

His fingers entwined with yours as you pressed your palm to the tile. He began to move in long, deep strokes, sinking into you completely. You let out a loud cry as he hit that sweet spot, euphoria erupting through your synapses as he buried his face in the curve of your throat, lips brushing over the clasp of your necklace.

Your fingertips toyed with the slender gold chain around your throat, following the curvature until you reached the tiny compass. You clasped it between your fingers as you turned your attention back to the board. The motion helped you to think.

You ran through the list of stolen items, antiquities, and jewellery. Expensive, specific pieces. Pieces that had been carefully curated. It didn’t fit the M.O of the actual robbers. You’d bet a year’s salary that they were thugs for hire.

Sinclair thought it had something to do with the insurance, you couldn’t work out how. Each of the victims had an difference insurance carrier, he had a sister who worked in the field he thought could give you more insight. Much to your relief, Paul had spent the majority of the afternoon out of the office trying to get a fix on a fence who specialised in high end antiques. So far, he’d come up empty.

You felt Terry’s presence before you registered his appearance in the Squad Room. It was a warmth that radiated from his body, an aura of calm that soothed over your rampant nerves as he took up residence alongside of you. His eyes fixed on the whiteboard, studying the images as his arm brushed against yours. The ink on his forearm pressing against your skin. It was reassuring, something steady in a whirlwind of violence. Your fingers threaded through his, linking the two of you together. His gaze lowered to your jointed hands, his thumb ghosting over the tattoo on your wrist.

“I can’t see what I’m missing.” You told him, diverting your attention back to the board. “The antiquities, the jewellery, it’s all very distinctive. Unique pieces, but different markets.”

“The jewellery could be broken down and sold separately for smaller denominations.” Terry pointed out, stepping up the board and tapping a necklace made of white gold, with rubies and diamonds embedded within the settings. It was ostentatious, something you’d see on the red carpet, and it wasn’t the only one up there. “That could be broke down into its own separate clusters, a ring maybe, a broach, a smaller necklace.”

“We both watched Ocean’s Eight, Detective Bruno.” You teased, tilting your head slightly as you reviewed an emerald choker. “Although you could probably get a lot of earrings out of this piece.”

“Would you ever wear anything like that?” He asked you with a frown.

“It looks like a high-end dog collar.” You commented, your lips tipping up into a small smile. “But if Bono or Shasta ever attend a movie premiere, I’ll suggest it.”

“Duarte’s not letting that thing anywhere near those dogs. Meredith though, she has good taste.”

Meredith, your sister but not by blood. You’d spent the majority of your teenage years fostered by Meredith’s family after the devolution of your own. You’d been friends long before that, your history spanning back to elementary school, when you were a feral, unkempt child with mediocre reading skills and she’d offered to share her lunch. You’d become friends that day and later on family.

She’d taken up with Mike Duarte and Bono the service dog, a few years ago after he’d survived a machete attack that had forced him to retire from the NYPD on medical grounds. As a brother in law you liked him, there was nothing official in place but you didn’t need a wedding to become part of the family. He may be a bit rough around the edges but he loved Meredith, it was in the way he looked at her, his smile and softness. His attention always rapt when she spoke. They were happy together and that was all you could wish for.

“It would have to be sapphires though.” You pointed out, gesturing at your neck area. “It would suit the dogs’ colouring more.”

Terry raised his eyebrows, his arms folded over his broad chest and his azure eyes sparkling with mischief. You raised a finger, a grin spreading over your features as you caught onto his idea.

“No, he’ll kill us.”

“He’s retired.” Terry shrugged his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure I can run faster than he can.”

“I’ve been the shooting range with him, trust me he doesn’t miss, even now.” You warned him with a knowing look. “Duarte can hit a moving target from a mile away.”

Terry pouted in response to your words, his dark brow furrowing as you approached him, your hands coming to rest on his hips as you tipped your head up to meet his gaze. His arms wrapped around you, drawing you into the shelter of his body. The heat from his body rolled over your skin, igniting your synapses and causing a sensual thrill to pulse through your system. He was wicked, this man of yours, dynamic and tantalising. His intelligence was fierce, his empathy unruly, and his compassion… It was the reason you had fallen for him in the first place.

“His face would have been worth it though.” Terry murmured, his voice husky as his head dipped low, his noise trailing along the length of yours until his lips hovered precariously close.

“We can find other ways to torture my brother-in-law.” You promised him, your thumb ghosting along the fine hair that decorated his jaw. He closed his eyes, exhaling as he savoured your touch. “Or maybe you’d prefer I tease you a little tonight, climb into your lap, pin your hands above your head as I…”

“Sarge.”

The sound of Paul’s voice broke through the moment. Terry’s eyes opened, fixing on yours his lips framed the word ‘busted’. You cleared your throat as Terry turned to face the other man his hand outstretched.

“Terry Bruno, Manhattan SVU and her worse half.” He introduced himself.

“Paul Russo, Robbery.” Paul returned, his hand enclosing on Terry���s. “The one before you.”

Terry’s head titled up as he met Paul’s gaze head on. The line of his jaw tensed. A chill flooded through your veins, dousing you like ice water. You’d seen that look on Terry’s face before, when he came up against suspects, people who had done unspeakable things. He was intuitive, your man, he understood things on a level that seemed to resonate underneath the surface. You wondered how much he saw in Paul’s eyes. Could he see the narcissist that you had loved once upon a time? The man who had destroyed your self confidence and damaged your psyche?

“And that is enough of that.” You interrupted clapping your hands to draw their attention back towards you. “We’re supposed to be at Meredith’s in thirty minutes.”

Terry inclined his head in your direction before releasing Paul’s hand. You snatched up your jacket from the back of your office chair before shrugging into it. Your skin prickled and you glanced over your shoulder to see Paul’s unnerving stare upon you. It fixated on you as you picked up your satchel and slung it over your shoulder. It was as if Terry wasn’t even there.

Terry seemed to sense the equilibrium shifting, he watched the other man with an intensity you found concerning. This was Terry viewing a threat, surveying it, cataloguing the details. He may not have known what Paul had done to you, but he knew a predator when he saw one. He dealt with them on a daily basis. His hand came to rest on your lower back, his palm warm, instilling a sense of security as his thumb rubbed a soothing circle over the base of your spine. You didn’t fail to notice that he positioned himself between you and Paul. It was a protective gesture, one that you weren’t even sure that he was aware he was undertaking. All he knew was that he didn’t want you anywhere near that man.

“See you tomorrow, Sarge.” 

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[supereffectivemoonblast]

After taking the afternoon off to recover from the ordeal at the Life Dome, Aerith, Ramiel, and Brucey visit the Silken Squall the next day. At the edge of Ank'Harel, twin rope bridges lead up to the floating city, wooden decks built on top of a magically solidified cloud as foundation. A variety of tents, wooden lean-tos, sheds, and the occasional metal structure litter a three tiered settlement that looks more like a carnival than a town. And the majority of performers and craftsmen are Air Genasi.

The trio arrive on the lowest deck of the squall and get breakfast from a stall. Nearby, they spot an automaton trying to sell pamphlets, and when it has moments alone, attempting to practice juggling. Aerith approaches and teaches the robot what she knows, and it is very impressed. It introduces itself as Bell, and explains the stamp book game her friend Guston is offering. The group like Bell, but assume Guston might be a scammer, so tell the robot they'll come by again later.

The Silken Squall - Linda Lithén

They visit a dedicated Jewellery store called Argent Light, and browse some wares, then visit a Winery called Barrel of Clouds, where an older Air Genasi named Turb tells them about a vermin problem. Shiny things and food have gone missing over the last couple weeks, and he suspects a nest of rats he's recently discovered in his cellar. Aerith and her allies offer to clear out the rats and he'll pay them.

They spot the rats immediately, but while they're slaying them, a volley of arrows appears from somewhere and starts a fire from one of the alcohol barrels. After dealing with the rats, they find a hole in the wall of the cellar leading into a tunnel dug through the cloud supporting the city.

Aerith scouts ahead and notices a variety of traps laid out to trip them up. Soon, she catches a pair of Kobolds, who answer their questions with violence. Ramiel and Brucey back up Aerith and they have soon found and defeated four Kobolds hiding behind Barrels or in the walls of the cloud tunnel. They leave one alive, named Plop, and intimidate it into leading them towards the Kobold leading this infestation.

Plop leads them through the tunnel, finding several piles of treasure, some more traps, and a few more Kobolds, which they all slay in front of Plop's eyes. Eventually they push through into the basement of an armory shop, and are ambushed by a group of Kobolds who had poorly fitted themselves out with weapons and armour too big for them. They are slightly more challenged by this group, but Aerith, Ramiel, and Brucey exterminate the Kobolds.

One of the Kobolds had a sack with all the stuff it had stolen, and they find jewels, potions, gold etc, and even a tattered copy of the Stamp Book. The trio assume this is the stolen goods Turb mentioned.

They take two Kobolds they had kept alive and bound back up with them, and Turb advises they should alert the Wyvernwinds, the de facto leaders of the Silken Squall. Caelus and Aurora Wyvernwind thank the party for their help, and give them a writ they can use as a Gift Card to pay for some of the goods on the Squall.

A little battered, but otherwise still excited by the markets, the group start to equate themselves with more of the shops on the squall. They first go to Kotter the blacksmith, and tell him why his basement was barred shut. They also buy some armour from him.

Next they revisit the jewel shop, and visit a bookstore, and a potion store, returning some of items they found in the Kobold's stash. They also collect some Stamps from these shops, having to get to know each merchant before guessing which stamp is theirs. At the potion store, they also get a request from the store owner's assistant to brave the caves around the city to find a precious stone called Ank'Harel Lapus.

Next session, the trio will visit more stores, get more stamps, and search for the Ank'Harel Lapus, with promise of quite the reward.