#like it can be better when tragic moment a balanced with more happy moment

[manastrae]

I think multiple characters will die, and in a way it would be logical . But I don't want a lot to die since arcane is a pretty tragic story with almost no happy moment, I think it should be contrebalanced with a bit of hope and happiness at the end.

[websterss]

A PIVOTAL FATE — LOKI LAUFEYSON

SUMMARY: Just as Frigga tried, you attempted to talk to Loki to try and reassure him about the damage done on Midgard. You and his mother were the only ones who saw the greater good in him when everyone else declared him a monster.  

WARNING(S): Angst, mentions of dying  

WORD COUNT: 1,697

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader  

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! While I work on requests, enjoy some of my own works I wanted to put out there! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

They say love in its truest form, only happens in fairytales, stories told by dreamers, stories conjured up from hopeful thinking and wishing. The type of love that is too good to be true because it is...

The type of love people warn the ones falling in love about. Trying to save them the hassle of getting their hearts torn in two. Yet that person falls or the person they shouldn’t, and it becomes either the best thing ever or their biggest downfall.

Yeah...well, they forgot to mention that would become your reality. A typical tragic love story in the making. One that the TVA made sure would happen and continue to let happen because, to them, it was the flow of time.

It was your glorious destiny, and it was utter bullshit, to Loki at least.

“I thought I told Mother I wanted no visitors.”

“I think you can make an exception for me.” You entered past the barrier surrounding his cell. Your eyes roamed around the space finding that the things you and his mother requested to be brought to him were in use. You hummed quietly to yourself as you stepped closer to the table of stacked books and found the one you wanted him to read. He was reading it. The giveaway away...the bent corner of a page. “I hope you have found everything to your liking.” You set the book down and clasped your hands behind your back. Walking towards Loki who refused to meet your gaze. 

“Are you real?” His head shifted up only the slightest. He was hopeful. 

“You know better than to question it, my love. I cannot project myself like your mother.”

“Are you real?” He asked again. He needed that reassurance. He needed you to be physically present before him rather than a projected image of yourself. 

You simply smiled fondly, bringing an arm out from behind you. Making a grabbing motion towards him. Loki’s eyes met your stretched-out hand and felt a pull. His own body moved before him and before he knew it his palm smoothed onto yours. You carefully watched his hard demeanor change. The once brooding hard stare he had was replaced with sudden relief. His hand slid up your palm, to your wrist, to hold onto your upper arms, to finally caress the side of your face. 

“I’m real. I’m here.” Loki simply nodded. Though it wasn’t nearly enough to bring his guard down.

“How long?”

“Not long.” You closed your eyes, wanting to relish in the touch and presence of your husband. “Your father adores me enough to appease any wishes I may have, but he is the king after all. No amount of time he gave will suffice as enough.” You frowned, uneasy.

“Then let us not waste any more of it. Here.” Loki brought his other arm around you, gently pressing your head on his shoulder. Holding you close. 

“I’ve missed you dearly.” You breathed in his scent. Basking in his embrace that you felt was absent.

“We vowed till the end of time. Now that I spend time thinking about it. It does sound a bit absurd. There are about an infinite amount of worlds. Universes even!” Your eyes grew. “There’s a balance. One cannot simply live forever.” You shook your head. “I’d be a prune by then!”

“I’d love you even then.” Loki dwelled in the moment of your happiness.

His heart swelled when your eyes flashed, unsettled, weary. Breaking the trance you both in.

"It is not fair. Why must I be punished, I understand their precaution but I simply cannot do without you. Your father has offered me one visitation per every full moon. He wishes for you not to gain a big head. By limiting our time with one another, you'll learn to realize how you are to answer for your actions...I am with child!" You gasp, not feeling strong enough to hold it in. After the King announced your one day per the moon to visit him, you couldn't bear the idea of keeping it from him.

"You...what?" Loki glanced down at your stomach.

"We are to be parents..." You mustered a quick laugh as tears began to fill your eyes. "We have been blessed!" You brought his hands up to place them upon your dress. You tilted your head in hopes of gathering a reaction from him. "Please say something..."

"If I'd known...I wouldn't have gone to such lengths."

"Yes you would have...you were angry. But I'd eventually would have worked to grant you forgiveness. Just as now." You were torn from the inside, thinking of the days ahead of you, the moons that would pass, the various days, minus the one where you would be without him, where he wouldn't stand by your side and care for you as he'd done so before. The bedridden sickly days didn't sound so appealing knowing you'd go about them alone. "Perhaps if I tell the King, he'd grant us more days. Surely he would, yes? He wouldn't be so cruel to keep apart parents in waiting. Surely not my Loki, yes?" Your chest began to rise and fall heavily. You were panicking, and he was solely broken by the heart.

"I don't think he would, my love." He cupped the back of your hair and laid you against his chest. Your head was positioned over his heart.

"I couldn't keep such news to myself. I found out during your sentencing."

"Who else knows?"

"Your mother, your brother..." You trail off, feeling him stiffen underneath you on his bed. "I did not feel like keeping him unaware. He is my family as well." You remind him. "They are it, and us."

"I fear my mother may bring the news to my father. To sway him."

"I would never beg for something more than your releasement."

"Don't strain yourself, my love. I will be living well, and situated here for a while, I'm afraid."

"I will murder the King if you are not by my side the day of the birth." His chest rumbles with laughter upon your declaration. "I do not jest."

"Settle yourself...I would rather die than miss it." He peers down at you. "I am pleased you told me."

"I am well now, knowing that you know of it." You lean upward and peck his lips. Your lips clashed sweetly and slowly. Time was never granted for you both, that's how it always was in your younger years. One would be pulled away, one would be occupied, one had princeling duties, while the other helped her mother in the markets. You both were constantly on limited time and always would be.

You pulled apart when a rasp against the walls appeared. Thor. He sought to be the one to look over your visitations. You had thanked him for it. The King allowed you mere minutes with your beloved. Thor granted you double the amount. He knew he and Loki butted heads on occasion, but he knew his brother's love for you ran eternally.

"I do not wish to part." Your lips tremble.

"We have the next full moon, remember." You nodded solemnly at him.

"The days will drag, they will feel never-ending." You pout.

"Think of them as one day closer to being here with him." He leans in to kiss your temple.

"Til the next full moon..." You reach forward to cup his face for another kiss.

"We will have it always..." Loki pulls away. Allowing you to stand and collect yourself. But before you go you reach upwards your neck and unclasp your flower necklace. He begins to protest as you place the item he gifted you in his palm.

"So the days won't drag on for you. A happy reminder."

"You always are in my heart. I don't need a token to remind me of it."

"It'll be our trade then. A game of such. I want it back next full moon with a paraphrase of your latest book. Something for us to look forward to."

"I deem it only fair to do the same then." He unclasped his bracelet you had gifted him one solstice. "So the days won't drag my love." He pecked you one last time and sent you on your way.

"I love you my Loki."

"I love adore and love you both." The notion of mentioning you and your unborn child warmed your heart. You left him that night, content and with a smile on your face.

One he'd never see again.

-

"I love you, my Loki.""I love you, my Loki.""I love you, my Loki.""I love you, my Loki.""I love you, my Loki."

Mobius held his nose as the video replayed again and again. He hadn't known how many times Loki replayed that phrase, but it didn't change the fact that he was still in denial of your death.

You had been with his child, and now you were simply gone.

"Loki-" Mobius interjected his inner turmoil.

"She can't be gone..."

"She is Loki, and in every universe. She suffers the same fate and the same ending. That will never change."

"Why not!"

"It's a pivotal event in the timeline. If she hadn't died that day then it would have caused a branch out in the timeline. We must allow the timeline to flow in its designated and orderly manner. Any slightest change in the timeline, something as small as someone deciding to go left instead of right, will create a catastrophic disaster."

"Why wife's death is not pivotal, nor should it have been!" Loki could no longer hold his anger. "She was good, pure, and held the kindest heart. She was my other half, and now you say that's all she'll forever be. A pivotal event in a timeline!"

"You can't change her fate, Loki. I'm sorry." Mobius sympathized with the variant.

Loki pressed his back against a wall and slid down. Placing his head in between his legs. Lost in the thought of your laughter, your smile. Things he'd never experience again. He broke as the first sob rumbled in his chest.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Saw your reblog on tragic unrequited platonic love and technically, that trope definitely applies to the betrayed trio, especially on Hinamori’s end (depends on whether or not you subscribe to the view that she was crushing on Aizen). The way I saw it in my initial viewing of bleach, it was more of the type of intense admiration for an authority figure that can be misconstrued as a crush cuz you (the devotee) lack the ways to properly articulate it. Like how u feel abt the rlly cool English teacher u sometimes eat lunch with before they get arrested for like fraud or something. After experiencing the Horrors, of course Kira and Hinamori are going to imprint hard on the first semblance of stability and symbol of safety at the time. So that what they went thru meant something. Also, let me take this moment to briefly gush abt the headcanon u presented in the B3 fic cinematic universe abt hinamori’s fixating on squad 5 because it offers her the knowledge beyond her town that she’s lowkey seeking + the values she wants to strive towards (source: from afar). These nerds just wanted to be mentored so badddd!! Thus, the reveal of the fact that they were only a means to an end, specifically chosen on where they fall on the “easy to manipulate” scale hits HARDER. All that devotion?? Loss of work life balance and for WHATTT? Extended medical leave ? 😭 oh bleach my fave workplace sitcom AND workplace drama u will always be famous

PS: thank u for tagging me in that post!! In the process of drafting my response. It was so lovely of you.

You're right! That totally works here. It's interesting because (and I'll just focus on Hinamori here, because otherwise I'd feel compelled to honor the distinctions between her and Aizen vs. Kira and Ichimaru and Hisagi and Tousen, and this would probably end up reading very convolutedly) I think it kind of asks a question about when the platonic pining would have happened.

Is the pining part of suddenly realizing the disjuncture between what Hinamori thought something was and what Aizen did, and mourning something lost (and something that never really was)?

Or was there also pining when things were Good? We see Aizen be reassuring to Hinamori and generous with his time, etc. and we see Hinamori happy to receive from him, and quite devoted both to her VCship as well as to Aizen on a person level (or as he put it, "as a man" lol). We know she's well-respected by her division, and esteemed by her colleagues (okay, Kira and Hitsugaya may have some bias in this arena, but they both describe her as highly skilled).

But was she needed? Was she doing, and did she get the opportunity to do, things that Aizen couldn't do better? Did she have opportunities to express things that Aizen found interesting or outside of his expertise? Even as they are not equals--and there is no expectation that they should be--in the most fruitful mentorships, both parties have things to teach and learn.

Did Hinamori ever look at other Captain/VC relationships and yearn for pieces of what those looked like to her? Nanao would probably say "god i hope not" because Kyouraku's "reliance" on her often takes the shape of her having to do all the busywork and also herd cats, but in spite of this there's an intimacy there, an openness or trust, that Hinamori might yearn for. And that's taking Kyouraku--shadowy and full of many surfaces himself--into account. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto also have something that both Hitsugaya and Matsumoto probably complain about to Hinamori, but there's a degree of mutualism and collaboration to whatever's going on at the 10th that Hinamori might not mind a taste of, too. Renji has been Byakuya's VC for a month but Hinamori has probably already thought to herself "Kuchiki-taichou let him do WHAT" at least twice. Even though Byakuya is Byakuya, judging by how they handled their "meeting Ichigo in the street" mission, it seems like Byakuya lets Renji have his little projects. Like Renji is part of his investment portfolio and Byakuya feels very comfortable considering Renji a volatile but potentially valuable property and in order to get that ROI you need to stick with him through several honorless tech startup busts and commit long-term to the thing. Er, but I digress. My point is, Renji gets projects. "Develop training menu." Creative opportunity! With a result that has Renji all over it.

Does Hinamori get projects? Does it ever feel like she's pushing the envelope of what the 5th can be and how it can function on her own, without it being something Aizen already predicted the outcome of, or was actually his idea that he let her propose and take nominal ownership of anyway? Despite being completely blindsided by the actuality of Aizen, was there already that sense of inevitability/Aizen all over everything that happens at the 5th? (Competing, of course, with Hinamori's self-concept as a creative person; and her love of Aizen as a person, not just as a boss and mentor; and feeling as though she just needs to excel more and be creative better and she'll eventually meet this need she feels--it's not the environment that's the issue. She's happy here. Mostly. She doesn't need to leave, she simply needs to surpass--)

[dxxtruction]

Honestly, the way you have to view ships in IWTV is not through a 'they're meant to be together' measure of things which is typical of shipping - as that's what shipping often functions in saying. You can find the happy, romantic moments, sure, and seek in those if it suits your pleasure. Just as well though the typical framework you'd want out of shipping, the 'why they're together', doesn't work here when it's antithetical to what the very text is implicitly, sometimes explicitly, telling you:

No one is meant for another.

In fact, that kind of bonding is always shown to be violent in nature. If not in itself then a lead up to its eventuality. Victim and perpetrator to this abuse is attributed on lines of ownership over another - a marked claim to someone at an expense of the victims full selfhood and/or body - by use of force, power, and status. Meant to be together, to be for another, is always a threat. Being meant for someone is to be meant for them in a way that it to their liking.

It borders on, and in some cases just is, offensive to the violent weight of the content being shown within the ships dynamics to ignore this - or not and to instead feud around the idea with 'which ship is therefore better' or 'more correct' based on whatever scale or actions, when this isn't something you can accurately measure let alone compare. (Neither does it really matter when literally no one here is 'meant to be'. Regardless of how much we root that they were). Ultimately, you can't actually justify these ships on this premise - as you can't justify the abuse.

Though, nowhere do I think this theme is more starkly pointed out than in Claudia's relationship with Madeleine, which lacks abuse in anything but what occurs to them - it isn't what goes on between them that the abuse occurs. And yet the same happens most apparently: it isn't meant to be. It's therefore the easiest relationship to digest with what the text is trying to tell you. Tragically, it's the most hopeful version of this story, and it's the most doomed.

Note: I realize there is a course of how things play out in the books and that certain characters do end up together. Remember ships are a personal attribution of your own wants for the characters relations and so doesn't just apply to who's endgame. Saying something is more correct because of this is really besides the point here.

Certainly it's a hard balance to strike then, to ship something when it's not something you should be shipping. If this were real you wouldn't dare to, and in approaching this in a typical ship sense this would be seen as especially vulgar, considering. ('you want them together?'). I find however you can still be charitable to both the text, abuse, and the placing of two characters together all at the same time. You can, just like the show does, explore within that dynamic something of importance. Be that to you, or on the shows terms, you can build upon its nuances, and admit to its difficult truths. All of them. There's dualism as well as ambiguous aspects to all these relationships (not just romantic ones either but this is another post) - where it goes right, where it goes wrong, and where it's not quite either. Mostly not quite either. At no point is the abuse also not there, or awaiting arrival.

Coming to a more honest understanding of what it means to ship an abusive relationship is to first just admit that it is all that it is. Then it comes down to this simple want of them together, for what is really is, as opposed to saying that they are fated to the harm done. Justification comes from the lack of justification. This isn't for a meant to be situation but instead a dive into its morbid opposite. They shouldn't be, or can't, but it's not against the rules to explore the ideas in which they are - especially when this is a real part of the text itself. And, sort of reiterating, with this you can focus more on the 'where it went right' if you want, that's your choice, but you still can't then refute and diminish the existence of 'where it went wrong' or you'd be back to square one.

I think, how people engage with these ships reflect in a lot of ways how they might feel, or shy from feeling, about abuse. Both in real life, and fiction. How one views victims and perpetrators. How one views them when applying for race. How one navigates their own comfort level and understanding with addressing the topic. A kind of beauty about letting people ship as I've just described, is it can offer a confrontational space to examine for the nature of it, that we would never usually get to do safely. And this is important in demystifying abuse.

So, for me, it seems apt to say that shipping abusive relationships isn't wrong in itself, rather it can be wrong in its execution. No one is wrong for liking it, but they can be for how they go about liking it. It's a choice on what you do an do not ship, just as much as it is a choice in how you ship it, or don't.

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

Can I ask how you feel about the popular idea in the fandom of Nagito's luck being balanced out post-game by Hajizuru's? Because me personally...I really really dislike it.

To start with it basically suggests that in any other scenario where he doesn't end up beside him, Nagito is doomed. Not only does that imply other ships are shot down. But it also implies that even Komahina wouldn't work without Izuru's talents being added to the mix. So there goes his happiness in a non-Despair timeline. I mean I guess Makoto might be the other exemption, but still.

And while I do think Komahina and Komaegi are of course very very cute, I can't buy that Nagito would feel happy with that idea. It not only means that he's completely dependent on a single person for any chance at happiness. But he has to resign himself to accepting that on his own he's a doom magnet. When really I think he'd want to beat his luck cycle somehow on his own terms. Plus I just think the idea that Hope's Peak could somehow implant a person with supernatural luck is just incredibly stupid. Makoto and Nagito's unique forms of luck should be the one thing they found impossible to replicate. I actually have a personal headcanon that the Kamukura Project was secretly only a 99% success. In that they only managed to give Izuru a consistent 10 for his Luck stat. But they failed to grant him the wild 20s that Makoto and Nagito have when their luck goes into overdrive.

Honestly I agree that the luck balancing theory can tie down Nagito’s options for partners. Although, in a way that could add to the appeal of Nagito’s tragic existence given that there’s always a caveat to everything for him--in this way the good luck is having someone love him, the bad luck is it being how limited his options are given that they need to fit a specific criteria to simply be able to survive around him.

On top of which is also brings into question whether Nagito’s feeling towards said specific person are actually genuine or if he’s clinging onto them more so for the reprieve they give him from his luck rather than any real feelings of love. Kinda like someone marrying for money or security—it’s done for necessity not because there’s actual strong romantic emotion.

But again, to some this can be part of the appeal of the theory. I’ll admit I’ve delved into this theory exploration myself with komaegi lol. There’s just so much about their luck we still don’t know and will probably never know about such as how it actually interacts—so it can be fun to explore this theme and it’s dark underbelly!

But I agree, it would be so much better for Nagito to be able to take control of his luck on his own rather than have it hinge on someone else’s existence. This theory is one of those ones that seems cute and “meant-to-be” on the surface but is actually a very slipper slope of one-sided dependency and given Nagito’s tendency for obsession with things that help him cope, it can get dark real fast. Which is why I feel it’s one of those theories you really need to be prepared to address the flaws and not simply sugarcoat it as “the-best-lucky-thing-to-happen-to-Nagito”. I mean for this theory to even be remotely healthy even for Hajizuru/Nagito or Makoto/Nagito, you’ll NEED to have Nagito become self-reliant and assured. Otherwise, Nagito would have a breakdown and/or major anxiety simply when he’s away from his partner because he knows now that his luck is active again. He’s already very anxious as is about his luck—but going from being able to finally live at ease for once in his life only to be reminded in a blink of an eye that no his luck is still there and can still hunt him down now that his shield is gone, would probably make the anxiety even worse in those moments.

So at the end of the day, balance theory or not, the best thing for Nagito would be for him to overcome the fear of his luck on his own and find a way to manage it that doesn’t rely on unhealthy coping mechanism. That’s always been Nagito’s journey. Learning to live despite his luck. Whether he has a partner or not.

On a side note—I too agree that Hope’s Peak replicating luck is cap lol. Like….how do you even replicate that??? Even to just a 10 I feel like it’s pseudo luck. I mean Izuru has (virtually) ALL the talents! I find it more believable that he utilizes a multitude of them at any given situation to make the odds work in his favor rather than having actual innate luck. Hear me out okay, hear me out, but I mean what exactly stopped Hope’s Peak researchers from implanting the idea of “this is your lucky talent” into Hajime whilst operating on him so that they could say to the world that they’ve done it while also making Izuru be wired to believe something like that? Improbable you say? Of course, but this is Danganronpa where a whole ass man can become butter from riding his bike too fast, I think surgical brainwashing is like…the least improbably thing tbh. You’d think they’d implant the idea of being loyal to Hope’s Peak too ayeeeeee. K Imma stop now.

[girl4music]

With all my Bangel VS Cangel talk recently it probably does come across like I hate Bangel. This isn’t true.

I don’t hate Bangel at all. I just don’t ship them as that all-encompassing true love/soulmates ship many do.

I wanted to root for them. I really did. But with pretty much everything with them or revolving around them - all that I could see was red flags everywhere. How can I put my support and faith into a dynamic like Buffy and Angel’s when they can’t even put their support and faith into each other most of the time?

That’s not a relationship. I don’t care what anyone says. And it’s not a Bangel VS Spuffy conflict either. I’m not saying what I do just because I ship Spuffy. It would be shallow and petty and pathetic if that was the only reason why I go so hard against Bangel. I’m not into that whole fandom stan/ship wars business.

I genuinely CANNOT see the appeal in Bangel at all.

I can see the appeal in Spuffy despite the mutual abuse. They have the same appeal for me so of course I can… but it’s not about them why I say what I do. And it’s not because I hate the individual characters in the ship either. I’ve actually come to like Angel a lot in his show. His development from who he was in ‘BtVS’ to ‘AtS’ is significant. He is so much more interesting. And I’ve always liked Buffy. I just find it difficult to focus on her character arc because of how painful it is.

Bangel is not a healthy relationship to me at all. A healthy relationship is one that makes both people in it better people for being together and because of the positive influence that they have on each other. I could barely stand either of them when they were together. They honestly both came across as awful people. You know what really threw the nail in the proverbial coffin for me though? The moment I gave up even trying to pretend that Bangel meant anything to me? The moment I knew their relationship was done for good?

‘I Will Remember You’

It’s funny. So many people regard that episode as Bangel’s episode. Their great tragic romance episode.

It’s certainly tragic alright. But it’s not romantic. It’s not something I watch and think “they’re so 😍”

I watch that and I think “what the bloody hell is the point of them in the first place?” It’s true - love makes you do insane things. But if one of those insane things is purposefully preventing any happiness for you and your love out of a scare that may not even come true…

It’s not their great tragic romance episode at all.

It’s their ‘Hell’s Bells’. And even that relationship still had all the potential to be salvaged despite how absolutely devastating that episode was for Anya. That episode still had somewhat romantic undertones. ‘I Will Remember You’ didn’t. Those “cute” moments between them meant nothing if neither of them could hold on to the memories of it.

What I can say that they did for each other was help each other to grow into stronger people than before.

But that’s not in a good way. That’s in a “well, that’s inevitable” way because pain does help us grow. But at the end of the day I don’t blame the couple or the characters. I just think Whedon loves destroying love because he understands this probably a bit too much.

He never wanted to make last and celebrate any of Buffy’s romantic/sexual relationships because he believed that growth from pain was just the stronger and more realistic story to tell. And he wasn’t wrong. It is. But thematic balance is important for a reason and I don’t think he quite knew how to keep that balance. Likely because he didn’t have that balance in himself.

Anyways, I just wanted to express this thoroughly once and for all. I’ll likely never mention it again in this depth - but to reiterate - I don’t hate Bangel but I am very much anti-Bangel because I genuinely don’t see the point in being pro for shipping them as a romantic/sexual relationship and I don’t see the appeal at all. Maybe someone could explain it to me.

@hysterical @sayyoume @oveliagirlhaditright

[gummybugg]

i keep seeing you post about the mice come out at night but i still don't know what it's about

As a joke I was going to put "even I don't know what it's about" but that won't due since I began writing it yesterday hehehe! There's no excuse not to give a serious answer!

It's a wip still in its baby stages, but I can give it all I got for a solid rundown! ✨️ (btw it's very scarcely mentioned in my pinned post, but I can elaborate a bit more)

So strap onto your seat belt and grab an unalcoholic beverage because I'm about to go on an incoherent ramble about mice, men, ghosts, and cajun culture:

Also, there is an intersection between Cajun culture and queerness. They are both things Morgana is ashamed of. He wants to fit in, get rid of his "embarrassing" accent, and just live his life under wraps. But that's kind of impossible when he finds a family of ghosts haunting his home. Through the tragic telling of their deaths, they help Morgana realize that he must cherish what little time he has to live and to live his life unabashedly. And keep telling stories. Be the person younger You needed. Don't hide yourself/don't be embarrassed. You're not living life for others, but for yourself. Stop appealing to those in charge. Do what makes you happy and you will find your company.

Morgana is a closeted trans guy living in Louisiana who drops out of college because it makes him depressed af. He needs a change, so he decides to move out into this conveniently affordable haunted home with what little funds he has left until he can make a living. But it's a *haunted* house (you know, typical spooky Louisiana lore), and he must find a balance between the spirits and finding meaning in his life.

It's a coming of age story but lowkey the plot of a Christmas Carol if you turn your head 90 degrees and squint really hard. Like the ghosts go "Morgana stop being an idiot and just live your life already" but he's like "but everyone will hate me and ill probably die or something" and they go "then it's a win-win for us."

We also get featured scenes/themes such as: Morgana's clown-core clairvoyant sibling Tooth, who can actually see what tf is going on (Morgana can't, he didn't get the ghost-seeing genes); a gay ghost wedding between the two father figure ghosts (Addison and Vincent); found footage of a broken household (relatable things); sibling power; gender euphoria; funny trans moments such as a pun about "dead names" (come on, it's FUNNY); acceptance; and found family.

For now, though, the story is on hold until I can get a better understanding of it and the direction I want to take it. I'm also writing it now, but yeah! Thank you for asking, this really helps me get a better picture of this project!

I plan to expand upon the Cajun culture as it is the entire reason I began this project (to not let the culture fade away). Culture, along with identity, go hand in hand with how we should be proud of our backgrounds instead of shy away from it to conform. Go and learn about those before you, and you will feel less alone instead of brooding in your college dorm, counting down the days until graduation!!

I think this sums up the premise, but I can keep going if there are any questions. I am always eager to share about my stories!

I have huge aspirations for this (and many of my other projects), as I plan on implementing many forms of media into this story (if the stars align and this takes off). Such as photographs, audio files, journal entries, blah blah. I was also thinking of being fancy and dropping a few lines of poetry/literature that inspired this story at the start of each section if this story goes anywhere.

But yeah, so thanks a lot for the ask! I really appreciate it :')

[esteemedproblem]

Gamzee & Karkat

[Plain text: Gamzee & Karkat]

These two are tragic. They care about each other, but in the world they were in, they weren't made for each other.

Gamzee was never in a mental position to be able to really help other people. Lil cal, no lusus, the pie. People either treated him high a mighty (Equius), with fear (Karkat & Tavros) or like shit (all of them minus Tavros I think.) They just shrugged off his addiction as that just being his personality. He needed help, likely help none of them could have provided, but they still could have been there for him. There is nothing wrong with needing more help than what you can mentally or physically give, but none of the trolls were really in the position to be able to do that for him. At best, they could have tried to help him get professional help if that even existed on alternia, and maybe as they all got older, they would have gotten him that help. However, the game would never allow them that growth he had to get through that with all his preexisting issues and get to deal with the struggle of being cut off completely unready which if you know anything about addiction is really bad. The game and doc scratch really did everything they could to make him a rage player and gave him none of the tools to become a healthy, stable rage player. In the canon story he really never stood a chance and that's so tragic to me.

On the other side of this ship is Karkat, who has spent his entire life afraid. He doesn't trust anyone, and his desire to attempt to help everyone, but especially highbloods, is probably influenced by that fear. He keeps avoiding his own problems, claiming he'll be a great government hero, so maybe he has a chance at living. His friends probably could have helped him survive if Condy wasn't receiving power from Lord English. Maybe Feferi could have stood a chance once she became an adult. Or even using technology to get him clothes that help mask his heat signature. I understand why he didn't, but I feel like he stood slightly better chance at his friends being able to help him if they were cool about it.

Specifically with his relationship to Gamzee, as long as he stayed afraid, it would never work out, and as a kid, he just assumed Gamzee was an idiot and not someone who needed help. Thought he was easy to deal with, annoying, passive idiot. I feel if he wasn't worried about dying every moment of every day he might have actually noticed what Gamzee was doing to himself and the harm it was causing the the aura of sadness that Gamzee accidentally slips through sometimes whenever people talk shit about him.

This is again just a ship that never stood a chance with the game in place, and doc scratches adjustments. I love them. I do. I believe in a hundred different worlds as they grow together, they find a balance. Karkat helping him and Gamzee protect him, but I don't think it would get better till they were at least 25. Both adults, have several years of therapy under their belt and being part of each others support system. (and maybe when they feel like it making out idk) I think the best thing for them the best trope per say is childhood friends that have a big falling out and meet each other years later and reconnect both nervous but genuinely missing each other despite their troubled past relationship so happy to see how far the other has gone.

We ship them both flushed, pale, both and fluctuating. We love our sad little gay men. They had no hope in HS tho.

[shallowrambles]

"I'm gonna human and i'm gonna human so good, you'll see. I'll keep everything stocked and change out the lights I WILL be the soldier of the gas n' sip!"

Yeah, I think pride could be a factor (he likes being competent), but I still really enjoy pairing Heaven Can't Wait with Hunter Heroici.

Cas is so often literally and figuratively running away from (or being chased by) Heaven. I still think...this is thematically Hunter Heroici part 2 for Cas. His conclusion in that episode comes through Sam's soliloquy about running away, and using happiness as escapism. (I'm not saying Sam is 100% right but that was his conclusion about the type of happiness he was seeking and why. It can be seen as a tragic entrapment within War -OR- or simply that they need to balance happiness with obligations and duty to the ones that count on them.)

SAM: Look, it can be nice living in a dream world. It can be great. I know that. And you can hide, and you can pretend... [the background is now brightly colored rectangles] ...all the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you. [CASTIEL appears to be taking SAM’s words to heart.] It'll come along, and it'll punch you in the gut. And then... then you got to wake up, because if you don't, then trying to keep that dream alive will destroy you! It'll destroy everything!

The background changes to bright white light. We see a close-up of CASTIEL, who disappears into the light.

///

CASTIEL: You don't understand. I have been trying to pretend that I can escape what I did in Heaven, but I can't. All that pain that I caused – I – I have to come back, to make things right.

I feel like, somehow, in Heaven Can't Wait, the "eureka" moment comes during the fight itself. Something about facing the Riet Zen made Cas confident to not only rejoin the fight but to get brave enough to do it as a weak human, and it's almost as if he's reclaiming that soldier part of himself by the end of the episode, when he's staring at the tv. For me, that's just how I choose to satisfy this episode.

CASTIEL: Do you really think you're doing Heaven's work down here?

EPHRAIM: I know I am.

CASTIEL: Well, you're wrong. Earth can be a hard place. But these humans, they can get better. They're just doing the best they can.

///

EPHRAIM: Shh-shh-shhh. It'll be over soon. I'll take the pain away.

CASTIEL: I want to live.

DEAN is struggling to pull himself together.

EPHRAIM: You say you want to live. But you can't see what I see. By choosing a human life, you've already given up. You … chose … death.

EPHRAIM lifts a hand to CASTIEL's forehead.

DEAN slides the knife across the floor towards CASTIEL.

CASTIEL grabs it and stabs EPHRAIM.

Cas chose to live, to fight, but he also understood (at least in this moment) death more completely, I think. I see this in parallel to Metatron's wonder in 11x20:

Metatron: And do you know what was the first thing I heard when I woke up in my cold hospital bed? It was hands-down the sweetest, loveliest song I ever heard in my whole, long, sad bottom-feeder existence... My heartbeat. I was still alive. The joy of knowing that you're still alive, and the simultaneous panic of knowing that someday that heart is going to stop beating, that's humanity. It's frail and it's flawed, but damn it, it's worth fighting for.

///

I think if you get too hung up on Dean, you can miss what's going on with Cas and Heaven here, that's all. And Cas and Heaven is a big part of his story and I like it.

///

I also really like what comes next. I feel like seasons 9-12 are (in many ways) Cas's attempts to mimic and integrate his emotions (what he categorizes as "the human-feeling and fear of death bits").

So much dog-thinks-it's-ppl comments in seasons 10 and 11! It's also why we get him awkwardly pretending to be human in the Crowley-Cas buddy comedy era but he reverts to his trademark angel-ey growling impatience in the terminal seasons. I'm thinking of the "Get out!" In Lily Sunder and the "Is this funny to you / no, sir!" In Ouroboros, specifically, btw.

The arrival of Jack in a sense represents the attempted merge of the human and the divine, and Cas's default personality returns in key ways. I personally think it becomes more integrated.

Meredith's Good Intentions, my beloved, you will always live in my heart:

[bakerstreetbabble]

Granada TV Series Review: "The Dancing Men" (S01 E02)

"The Adventure of the Dancing Men" is possibly the very first Holmes story I can remember reading and enjoying as a child. It was one of the stories in a paperback anthology that I was given when I was about ten years old. (I've tried numerous times to find the anthology online, with no luck. I simply don't remember enough about it.) I remember finding the idea of the code of the dancing men fascinating, and it is still one of my favorite Sherlock Holmes adventures. I am happy to report that the Granada adaptation of the tale is excellent. After the scene setting of "Scandal in Bohemia," this one really gets into the meat of what makes Holmes stories so entertaining: a code to decipher, deductions that are constantly one step ahead of everyone else, a murder, an attempted suicide, a mysterious figure from America...the works.

Unlike "A Scandal in Bohemia," which was the first story in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, "The Dancing Men" comes much later in the canon, having been one of the cases published in the collection entitled The Return of Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps that's why the story is so good: it was written later, but not so late that the writing has become tired or a repetition of the earlier stories. Quite simply, this story is Arthur Conan Doyle at his best. And the Granada adaptation certainly reflects the excellence of the original story.

Jeremy Brett is delightful from top to bottom in the episode: his witty, playful banter at the beginning, as he amazes Watson with his deductive train of thought, is a treat to behold. David Burke's reactions, as Watson realizes how "absurdly simple" (a phrase which recurs in the episode) the whole thing was, is marvelous as well. The dramatic elements throughout the episode are very well done. The opening sequence, before the case comes to Holmes, is admirably brief, but sets up the mystery quite efficiently.

As a musician, I was especially struck by the sophistication of the score underlying the scene: the music sounds a bit like an early American folk song, and as Elsie first sees the code of the dancing men (which the camera does not show initially) the music comes to a sudden stop. The use of the minor third every in the theme that plays underneath Elsie's and Hilton's scenes together gives the music an ever so slight impression of a style no unlike American jazz, which works perfectly for Elsie, who we come to find out is from America.

The actors who play Elsie (Betsy Brantley) and Hilton (Tenniel Evans) are perfect in their roles: I found their tragic relationship emotionally engaging. The sets and costumes are, as usual for this first season of the series, extremely sumptuous. The Baker Street lodgings, of which we get a slightly better view than in the first episode, seem as if they were lifted straight out of the pages of the canon. Meanwhile, we get a bit of a view of the period English countryside, and perhaps most importantly for Holmes fans, our first glimpse of Holmes in the famous deerstalker cap (though not the Inverness cape).

The pacing of the episode is exceptionally tight, with an excellent balance between the more reflective moments of deduction, and the moments of Holmes and Watson springing into action (albeit too late to save the unfortunate Mr. Cubitt). I especially enjoyed the moment, after Holmes and Watson run out of the room suddenly, and the camera pans around to show the final message: "Elsie, prepare to meet thy God." Beautifully done!

In the original story, Sherlock Holmes presents a rather lengthy description of how he solved the code of the dancing men. I thought the adaptation was especially deft at handling this bit dramatically: first, they shorten the sequence immensely, and second, they give most of the explanation to Watson. I thought this worked rather well, especially considering that, if they had been slavish to the original, the dramatic action would have ground to a halt at this point!

Watching this episode was a particularly enjoyable nostalgia trip for me, and overall just a marvelous viewing experience. I can't find a thing about the episode that I would have changed. It was extremely faithful to the source material, while still being as entertaining an adventure as you could wish to see on the small screen. The video of the episode is below...enjoy!

[clairdeluneeeeee]

God, I hate shipping culture these days. People are so quick to deem anything they don’t like as “toxic” and “unhealthy” that I’m genuinely starting to question whatever they know what an abusive relationship looks like.

I’m not going to answer everything this anon said, because you’ve already did it in your own reply. I also have nothing against them: superficially, those all seem super valid points, but when you start delving deeper into their individual characters and relationship, you can easily pick up that most of this stuff is objectively wrong.

First of all: what do you mean that they didn’t bring the best out of each other? They clearly did. Both in-game and in side material where they survived but their characterisation is supposed to be canon-compliant.

After they have forged this new connection with each other, they both appear more relaxed and willing to engage with the group. Kiyotaka learns to respect others’ spaces and opinions, so much so that he doesn’t push his classmates to reveal their secrets when he understands that they’re clearly uncomfortable with this perspective. And Mondo also appears less prone to anger and more open about his feelings and frustrations.

Also, their UTDP/SC interactions do exist. Owada literally has a solo-event with Ishimaru in the latter entry that is titled “my future”, of course, he talks about his other classmates too there, I’m not doubting that his friends also played a role in all of this, but it’s clear that Kiyotaka has always been his biggest push towards the direction of “adjusting his life-style”.

Also, this:

Mondo clearly holds his bro to a higher degree: here he’s basically hoping that they’ll stay close even after their school life will come to a conclusion. He sees Kiyotaka as the person that will give him unconditional support and motivation even in his future, and in return, the other boy is extremely happy to fulfill this role in his friend’s life.

If this isn’t “bringing the best in each other”, then I don’t know what it is lol.

Yeah, their relationship was the downfall for Kiyotaka in the killing game, but that’s because Mondo died. They needed each other to grow as better people, so when one of them tragically lost his life in all of this, the other couldn’t find the strength to keep going. But it’s because they were separated, not because they were together for a while.

Generally speaking, Ishimaru is shown having a good understanding of Owada’s character and his motivations. He doesn’t worship him and can understand when he’s at fault in specific situations, the killing game was an extreme situation because, well, Mondo was about to die, so he had to come up with an excuse as quickly as possible to not get him executed by Monokuma.

I actually think that the Kiyondo stuff reflects how much they got each other: Ishimaru recognised Owada’s (bad) coping mechanisms, and decided to adopt those to handle the situation. Of course, it wasn’t healthy, but it all happened in a moment where Kiyotaka hated himself and didn’t know how to react. All we have to take from this is that he knew Mondo well enough to pick up on his “mask”, and that clearly says something.

Listen, I’m not advocating that their relationship is perfect or whatever, it clearly is not, but I think that calling it unhealthy kinda ignores a lot of points about both characters. In the killing game, it of course didn’t bring anything good, but it’s because of the fact that it was otherwise a perfectly balanced and mutual friendship that all of this ended in a tragedy.

Sorry for the long rambling, I hope it didn’t come across as rude or unnecessary, I just wanted to bring up some points that I thought were worthy of being addressed, but I really, really have nothing against this anon :,).

Hi! I recently read out some opinions on wattpads and I heard from a user that Mondo and Kiyotaka doesn't have that good if a friendship and would have an unhealthy relationship, perhaps as toxic as Togafuka and Sounia if we think of it a lot, if they ever got together and first I thought it was bs but then I read more, they pointed out of Mondo's toxic masculinity, and how it will ruined the relationship combined with Taka's strictness. They also pointed out how their relationship become both Taka's biggest highest point and downfall, and how despite the alter ego Mondo wasn't actually Mondo, it's clear it's how Taka perceived him. Kiyotaka also develop a split personality of him and it even lead him to death. They never brought each other to a higher point and never encourage each other much except for the mutual respect but they never encourage each other as I read from the analysis instead it becomes their biggest down fall. I kinda want to see your opinion to this is

Interesting... let me unpack this bit by bit for you anon!

"Mondo and Kiyotaka doesn't have that good if a friendship and would have an unhealthy relationship" - IMO I think they have a glorious friendship, let me drop some official art to display this rq.

Pure Silliness :3

I think in terms of the KG their relationship WAS unhealthy. If you're super close to somebody that could (and did for Ishimaru) affect you if you lost them. It also made them targets for a culprit.

"perhaps as toxic as Togafuka and Sounia" - Very different ships to compare to, Mondo and Kiyotaka canonically state that their "soul bros" "mates" "friends" and "have a manly bond" this is very different to Togafuka <- Toko obsessing over aroace Togami and sounia <- souda obsessing over Sonia. The difference is that those ships are one sided but ishimondo both have attraction towards eachother (whether that be as friends or otherwise)

"they pointed out of Mondo's toxic masculinity, and how it will ruined the relationship combined with Taka's strictness." I'm not really an expert on anything BUT in a very well written Kiyotaka character analysis they said that Taka got development and Mondo often pointed out his strictness and he corrected it. (If you're interested I can send you the link.) So Taka would learn to dial down his strictness, and IMO they'd help eachother grow.

"They also pointed out how their relationship become both Taka's biggest highest point and downfall" ghhhhhhhh *sobs* it was his highest point because he'd never had a friend before, and the trauma of losing one was way too much for him to take on. It was his highest point, and well... while also being his biggest downfall we need to remember that these guys had 2 years of memories stolen, anything could have happened in that time, including them becoming friends. Let's just speak about friendship, because even though I'M an Ishimondo shipper, not everybody is, and that's okay. These dued clearly had a platonic friendship happening and like... official art again? Yes, I need examples: (specifically from the game this time)

all of this happened in official art, there are only sixteen people in the class. You're telling me Kiyotaka never once called out Mondo's uniform/attitude, they never spoke, never crossed paths, never found out they had lots in common and could get along? If THH was slice of life, these two would be the Kubokai (TDLOSK) of the group. It was a downfall in the Killing Game because MONDO DIED!!! Which didn't happen in the 2 years of memory loss (duh) so maybe it was only a high point pregame?

Idk how much sense my paragraph made but like... I'm trying here lol

"how despite the alter ego Mondo wasn't actually Mondo, it's clear it's how Taka perceived him." I DON'T REMEMBER MUCH FROM CHAPTER THREE BECAUSE I WAS RUSHING TO FINISH THE GAME (and hated it) BUT!!! Although Alter-Ego Mondo wasn't Mondo, who made the laptop?? Chihiro. Who added the alter ego/alter mondo function??? Chihiro. The laptop is how Chihiro (or the AI) percieved Mondo, not Kiyotaka.

Kiyotaka also percieved him like this BECAUSE of the quote the AI said (something about not giving up and not being a pussy idk) which inspired Kiyotaka.

I mean Taka stated it sounded exactly like Owada, and he knew him best so maybe the AI was accurate, and maybe this is how he was percieved. But turning into Kiyondo (waste of plot and waste of my time but wtf) was like... "their souls merging" like... Taka heard his bro, he got a sign to keep going, and out of all of his depression he found hope and it kinda went out of control.

In reality this shit wouldn't have happened, I mean if the games were realistic Taka would open his eyes, find motivation again, and fucking cry. HE WOULD LET IT ALL OUT AND HE WOULD LEAN ON SOMEBODIES SHOULDER AND CRY- and then he'd begin to heal, he needs to keep going for his bro, he can't die, he can't lose, he has to keep living, it's Mondo's AI's final wish.

(Kinda like healing after a loved one dies in real life. It'd be hard but life would keep going and you'd find will to live again and you'd think of them bittersweetly)

Idk bro that's my perception of the Kiyondo schmuck.

"Kiyotaka also develop a split personality of him and it even lead him to death." - Erm ACUSHALLY YES Taka was Kiyondo at the time, but Kiyondo wouldn't care about being on time to meet Hifumi, TAKA WOULD, and the only person who knew if Kiyotaka was Ishimaru or Ishida was Hifumi, who was dead. Sure Kiyondo had a big part to play, he got too much screentime and so he was bound to get chopped off, but Kiyotaka was the one with punctuality out of the two, not Mondo. So Kiyotaka desperate to escape and FIND that reason to live went to the storeroom thing. That's my interpretation though, it's not exactly confirmed in canon because A. Hifumi and Taka are dead and B. The comic panel thingy may not have been 100% correct because it's Makoto's POV from what he'd heard in the case.

"They never brought each other to a higher point and never encourage each other much except for the mutual respect" - (my opinion here is arguable) They never...? No 'acshually'. Mondo was Taka's first friend, and that bought him joy.

This whole scene shows growth in Taka, and some of it is help from Mondo himself.

And with Mondo, I'm not really sure...-

Listen, anon, I haven't played THH in... MONTHS and in those months I've played three different dangan games, and had multiple different character/ship fixations from across the franchise.

Don't take my words as the right opinion, it's just AN opinion. In a debate no side is right or wrong, it's just what the respective juror agrees with (in this case it's you! :D).

The person who made the analysis to begin with had many valid points, and I have valid points too. At the end of the day, it's whatever you think about this. Just count this ask into your opinion.

Not all of the stuff in this is canon, (that's just a guess) Haven't played DR1 in a long while, take this as you will.

[dreams-of-yunho]

summer strawberries

yunho x y/n

rating: m

genre: smut with a dash of fluff

wc: 2.4k

warnings: steamy shower sex!!!! oral (f r), kinda hand job idk if it counts, light praising, mentions of melted ice cream :o

summary: the hot summer sun is horribly unforgiving. and what's better on a hot summer day but a cool shower? or, even better, a cool shower with mr. jeong yunho? <3

______________________________________________________________

It was hot. Unberably, ridiculously, stupid, dumb hot. The kind of heat where nail polish becomes sticky and ink won’t dry. Brain melting hot. At least there was a breeze; wind riffled through leaves causing storms of maple tree seeds to fall to the sun torchered ground. Birds cried harshly as winds jostled their homes. Small creatures kept to the shadows: rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks skirting the sickening heat. Delicate and dainty flower petals wilted tragically.

And what were you to do? It was too miserable to even lift a finger. You were surprised your body was still functioning, believing your heart should burst and your blood boil. Simply miserably miserable you positioned yourself upon the sofa in the living room, the shades drawn so as to not let the fires of hell enter the home. If it weren’t for his promise of ice cream in the next ten minutes, you would have removed all the food from the freezer and shut yourself in, even if it meant asphyxiation, you could not have cared less at this point. If the universe wanted you to melt so badly, why didn’t it just get it over with, the sadist?

Eleven minutes, you thought to yourself, if he takes eleven minutes, we’re through. The prospect of ice cream was not taken lightly in your family. Ice cream was a happy escape for you. A brief moment of release from the trials and tribulations of everyday life. In reality, it wasn’t that great a deal but, today, as the sea of flames spilled through the glass window panes, ice cream was life or death and you would kill for it. You would kill anyone.

As minute ten neared and beads of sweat ran down your back, the door opened and in walked your Knight in Shining Armour, Jeong Yunho.

You watched Yunho as he stood, pantting, in the entryway. You knew the heat was real because of the way he was dressed; he wore a simple white tank top and camouflage cargo shorts. His lightly curled, night black hair was concealed by a ballcap. He removed his sandals and walked towards the living room, barefeet softly padding across the hardwood.

“Okay,” he started. You stared up at him from your place on the couch as he stood in front of you. His cheeks were flushed and his face glistened with a sheen of sweat. “We have choices:” a drop of clear liquid emerged from his hat-covered hairline and dripped to his eyebrow. “Chocolate crunch,” he pulled an ice cream bar from his left hip pocket. “Strawberry and orange cream,” he held two bars previously in his right hip pocket. “And,” he pulled a final bar from his bottom left pocket, “brown sugar boba.”

You carefully observed the selections he held before you. You would take anything frozen, even black cherry walnut.

“But, the thing is,” his tone dropped. “They’re melted.” He shook the bags and you could hear liquid sloshing around.

A quiet rage filled your chest, burning through your lungs. “Yunho!” He lowered his head and dropped his shoulders. “Why did you put them in your pockets?”

“I thought it would protect them from the sun but, I think it acted as a sort of convection  oven and escalated the melting process… don’t be mad at me.” He looked down at you through large, heart crushing, puppy dog eyes.

“Hmmmmmmmm,” you whined, destroyed by the lack of immediate ice cream. “We can put them in the fridge I guess. But, that’ll take forever, ugh.” You slowly dragged your hands across your face, collecting far more sweat than you could have imagined. “Ew,” you cringed, looking at your silken hands. “I guess I can shower while they’re in the freezer.”

“Wait,” Yunho called from the kitchen. “I need to shower first; I am drenched.”

“No, me first.”

“You’re not even off the couch,” he shut the freezer door. “How are you going to beat me to the bathroom?” A cocky smile spread on his rose petal lips.

“I’ll beat you.” You made an attempt to stand but your legs felt like jello-twigs and they collapsed under you. “Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll drown in my own sweat. Tell me you love me before it’s too late.”

It was impossible but you could hear him smiling from where he stood.

“y/n, my love,” his footsteps neared. “There is room for more than one in the shower.” Yunho extended a hand.

“Carry me.”

“Hmm,” he pretended to contemplate. “Fine.”

His actions were swift; strong hands reached under your legs and back, pulling you off the couch and to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck. He was sweaty but you didn’t mind.

Your feet met the cold, stone floor as he set you down in the bathroom. He moved to turn on the shower and you faced the mirror. Your hair was terribly frizzy (on account of the humidity) and fell this way and that, sticking to your damp forehead. Your face was puffy and your cheeks awfully rosy. You wore, it could barely be called, a tank top and no bra.

“Yunho,” you called gently. “I don’t think I want to do anything. I don’t feel very sexy right now.” You watched as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His hot breath stuck to your skin. “You’re hotter than this weather, darling.”

You laughed. “Cheesy.”

“Yet, completely true.” he set his chin on the top of your head and looked at you through the mirror. “Just a shower,” he promised. “Nothing more.”

Chilly water met your shoulders sending a shiver up your spine. But it felt nice. Water trickled over your face, down your neck and back, dragging the sweat and hardships of that day down the drain. Delicately scented, strawberry soap bubbled as you lathered it over your collar bones. “Let me get your back,” he said. Strong hands met your shoulder blades; massaging with his fingertips. Hands worked down your sides, gripping your hips and pulling back to rub the soap into your lower back.

“Mhm,” you moaned out as his fingers worked through the knots and tension.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” his hands ghosted lower.

“Hey,” you turned to face him. “You said just a shower.” He stood in front of you: tall and broad; godlike. The water was cold yet, blue veins pressed against the skin of his arms and hands. His dark hair was slicked back, accentuating the perfect bone structure of his face.

“Don’t you want a relaxing shower?”

You eyed his lush lips which were slightly parted in a gentle smile. Your gaze traveled his strong features and came to rest on his eyes. Those beautiful eyes; the eyes you fell for. The eyes that could never hide his feelings; eyes that told everything. There were little droplets of water caught on his eyelashes and he blinked them away.

You felt the urge to kiss him; setting your hands on either cheeks. You stood high on your tippy toes but he was still out of reach and was unwilling to help. “Yunho,” you gripped his face tighter. “Come here. I want to kiss you-”

He put a finger to your lips. “Just. a. Shower.”

“One kiss,” you whispered over the stream of the shower.

“One kiss,” he agreed.

You closed your eyes, waiting, expecting his lips upon yours. Instead, you felt his hands graze down your sides and hips, resting on the tops of your thighs. You opened your eyes to see Yunho drag the tip of his nose down your stomach. His warm breath hovered just in front of your sex. “Yunho, that’s not what I meant.” You put your hands on his chin, trying to pull his lips back to yours.

He only gripped your thighs harder. “You asked for a kiss,” he breathed. “I’m going to give you a kiss, my love.”

Every hair stood on end as his nose ran over your clit. He tilted his head back to lick a wet stripe against your sensitive nerves. You whined as his tongue landed directly on it, circling again and again. You could only whine as his lips enclosed you and your legs became wobbly.

“Y-yunho,” you moaned as he sucked. “I’m going to fall.” You tried to balance yourself against the wall and he wrapped his arms around your back, trying to stabilize you as he continued to suck and lick relentlessly. “Ah,” you could feel that familiar knot twist in your stomach as he began to kiss you harder. And, when that knot was at the verge of snapping, he removed his lips with a wet smack.

He groaned as he stood and met your eyes, watching you as you breathed haggardly, mouth gaping. A hand fell to your shoulder, moving a wet strand of hair back. “I’m a good kisser, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Yeah,” he hummed, running his hands up and down your back. “Would you like to kiss again?”

“Ha,” you scoffed and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. It was heavenly as your bodies collided; your hands tugging at his silky hair, tits against his abs, his nails pressing crescent moons into your hips.

You pulled back to catch your breath, still winded from him eating you out. “God,” you ran a thumb over his cheek. “You are a good kisser.”

You thought he would come right then and there, the look he gave you was steeped in passion and lust. His hand met your ass, pulling one leg up to his waist as he moved to press your back against the cold tile wall. He winced as his hard on pressed against your lower stomach.

You loved that look. You wanted to see it again; to know you made him feel good.

Your hand snaked between your bodies as you began to pepper light kisses across his collar bones. He gasped as you grabbed his dick in your hand. You felt his Adam's apple bob as your lips moved to his neck. You squeezed him a little harder and his head fell back with a moan, giving you more beautiful canvas.

Warm fingers met your clit and you dropped your head to his neck, already sensitive from his mouth. “You’re so wet,” he ran his fingers back and forth through your folds, each movement causing you to moan against his chest.

“We-we’re in the shower,” you managed.

A deep laugh vibrated through his chest and his dick twitched in your hand. “I guess you’re right.” He pulled at your other leg. “Come here.”

“Yunho,” you raised your head. “If you slip and drop me,” you warned as effectively as you could with his fingers working you so wonderfully.

“I would never let you fall,” his strong arms pulled you close. “Jump.”

You managed to jump the best you could and one of Yunho’s hands was there to meet you. “Good job, baby,” he lowered you down his body a little.

You could feel him lining up, his tip pushing at your entrance. His eyes fell to yours, watching your face as he lowered you slowly onto him. You groaned as he moved deeper into you, parting you. “Is it okay,” a hand rubbed your back lovingly.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You can keep going.”

He smiled slightly and loosening his grip on your back one last time, bottomed out with a moan.

You tugged at his hair as you adjusted to his immense size.

“Okay?” He kissed your cheeks.

“Yes, just give me a sec.” You moved your hips up and down, desperate for the pain to subside.

“Jesus,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “A warning next time.”

You clenched around him in response.

“Cheeky,” he chuckled.

“Okay,” you breathed out. “Move.”

“Okay,” he smiled down at you. He captured your moans in a kiss as he thrusted into you.

He was gentle with you, as he always was. He carefully watched you, making sure everything felt good, that he made you feel good. “That’s it, baby,” he cooed. “You’re so pretty.”

You gripped his shoulders as his pace began to quicken and you couldn’t help but clench as his veins dragged against your walls.

“If you keep doing that,” he choked out between thrusts. “I’m going to come right now.”

You slumped against his chest. You wanted to listen to him but he was making you feel so good. Your body was coming completely relaxed and undone in his touch. Your mind, your body, your heart; you were so at ease being with him.

However, your nerves began to spark as his fingers fell to your clit. You could tell he was close because he dropped his forehead to yours wordlessly, his nose scrunched. And he loved when you two came together; Completely free in each other’s arms.

He seemed to completely forget about the slick watery surface he stood on and began to pound into you as fast and as hard as he could. You moaned and mewled as he hit deeper and deeper with each thrust.

“I’m gonna come, y/n,” he warned, his pace becoming erratic and you clenched harder around him, feeling your high approaching too.

“Me too, Yunho,” you whined as he hit your g-spot with a particular force.

You came loudly, fingers desperately searching for something to grip, finally resting on his toned biceps.

He followed you almost immediately, his hips ramming into yours sloppily as his dark eyes bored into yours, a lazy smile on his swollen lips. He pulled out and slumped to the shower floor, holding you tightly in his arms. He gently peppered your face with kisses. “I love you, y/n.”

You giggled as he found a ticklish spot behind your ear. “I love you too, Yunho.” You sighed as you saw his cum run out of your pussy and down the shower drain. “We should have sex in the shower more often; easier to be lazy.”

“I tire you out that much, huh?”

“My god,” you scoffed. “Cocky bastard.”

“You love it,” he teased, massaging the inside of your sore thighs.

You rolled your eyes. “Wanna wash my hair?” You asked, only half kidding.

“I would but, I don’t want to. I want to stay like this.”

“Me too,” you agreed, sinking deeper into his arms. “I could fall asleep like this.”

“Yeah,” his raspy voice responded. “Me too.”

[goingmorry]

Trafalgar Law [A-Z Alphabet Fluff]

Synopsis: How is Trafalgar Law like as your romantic partner? 💖

Count: 2813 words

Activities

Reading. Law is an avid reader. He loves to read all kinds of material, both fiction and non-fiction, such as short stories, novels, comics, articles, news, and medical textbooks. As such, you took it upon yourself to read together with him. During nights, when the rest of the crew retires to their quarters, you and Law take turns reading to each other. As your quiet and gentle voice fills the silent room, Law visibly relaxes. A faint but genuine smile graces his normally impassive features. When it's his turn to read, you enjoy the calm and soothing nature of his voice.

Resting/pillow talk. While Law is known to suffer from insomnia, he enjoys resting in bed together with you. This is usually accompanied with reading, but when you're both exhausted, both of you lie together in silence or in hushed sounds through light conversations. For the most part, you talk while Law listens. Law also tends to overwork himself so you being with him ensures that he unwinds for the day.

Medical assistance. Law is the doctor of the ship. As such, one of his primary duties is to perform both minor and major medical procedures when his crew sustains injury. He typically doesn't need assistance to conduct his minor medical duties; however, your insistence in helping him whenever possible has prompted him to seek your support. Despite your lack of medical knowledge, Law is not opposed to instructing you. You've proven yourself to be a reliable assistant. Truthfully, he enjoys having you adopt a nurse role by his side.

Beauty

Your compassion. Despite Law's outwardly aloof demeanor, he finds your kindness endearing. He’s used to incessantly berating you during the many times when you put your life in danger to save others; however, he's resigned to the fact that your compassion for others is one of your defining qualities. It's what drew him to you after all.

Comfort

Law is perceptive. He can tell when you're feeling down, and he can definitely tell when you're about to have a panic attack. He's quick to shift to his doctor persona, guiding you through breathing exercises as you breathe in and breathe out while slowly coming to your senses.

Law is not overly affectionate, but if you desire hugs or other forms of physical contact, he will give them to you without hesitation. You have his undivided attention.

When you recover, Law is cautiously optimistic and takes your vitals. He asks if you're feeling better and if you'd like to talk about it, but he's not forceful if you're not willing to disclose information to him.

Dreams

In the moment. Law is happy to live in the moment with you. Thinking of the future unnerves him, as his carefully arranged plans do not always develop the way he expects them to.

Fate. Just like his meeting with Cora-san during the most tragic part of his life, he believes meeting you was fate. Your fates were intertwined from the moment you first encountered each other, and they will continue to be until the day both of you breathe your last.

Equal

Dominant. Law has expressed his aversion for being told what to do. As the Captain of the Heart Pirates, he prefers to issue orders. While his dominance extends toward your relationship, this doesn't mean that he doesn't respect and value your opinions. He treats you fairly, as an equal, always making sure he listens to your input when you have something to say.

Law is dominant but not overbearing. As someone whose freedom was stripped away the moment he was born due to the Amber Lead disease, Law would never dream of taking away your freedom in any capacity.

Fight

Forgiving. It might surprise you to know that Law is an extremely forgiving person. He understands that couples get into disagreements; it's natural. So long as you don't betray his trust, he is willing to forgive and learn from most arguments.

Law usually appears collected when arguing with you; however, he loses his cool when you are quick to put yourself in harm's way. Law is not one to hold resentment after making up with you, preferring to be with you here and now.

Gratitude

Attentive. Law is aware of what you do for him. You try to be subtle, but he's quick to catch on. He tries to keep a calm façade, but he's overwhelmed with affection for you on the inside. You can expect him to snuggle closer to you tonight.

Law shows his gratitude indirectly. "Here. I got this on the way to town," he says, handing you a bag of your favorite sweets. He doesn't say it, but he loves watching your face light up in excitement at the prospect of stuffing your cheeks with delicious desserts.

Honesty

Although Law is honest, he tends to fill you in with the details after the fact. He doesn't do this out of malice but out of necessity. As Captain of the Heart Pirates, ally of the Strawhat Pirates, and a member of the Worst Generation, his life is in constant jeopardy. Now, with you by his side, he's paranoid and won't risk being caught off-guard until the threats have been neutralized. He prefers to do now and talk later.

When reminiscing about the past—as it relates to his childhood in Flevance and being under the care of the Donquixote family, specifically Cora-san—he struggles to share these painful memories. Although he opens up to you eventually, he won't willingly share all the moments when something reminds him of his past. How your kindness reminds him of Cora-san. How your love for festivals reminds him of Lami. He refuses to burden you with these thoughts.

Inspiration

Law is kind. Cora-san's sacrifice made sure of that.

Although Law regained his humanity, he doesn't put himself out there to assist others in need if doing so will jeopardize his plan. Instead, your insistence to help others forces his hand.

While Law believes that pirates should not do kind things, his actions contradict his statement. He will honor the Hippocratic Oath and use his Devil Fruit powers (Ope-Ope no Mi) to treat others to the best of his ability.

Law takes issue with being seen as a kind person by strangers. He refuses to accept others gratitude. When confronted, he will make up an excuse in an effort to portray himself as a selfish and ruthless pirate. Regardless, the recipients of his acts of kindness are not fooled.

Jealousy

Watchful. Law is protective. How could he not be when you look so radiant? So full of life, warmth, and affection? He trusts you. It's strangers he doesn't trust. He's worried other people will take advantage of your benevolence.

He deals with his jealousy by keeping you in his sight whenever feasible. If he can't be with you, he'll ask his crewmembers to accompany you. The life of piracy is a dangerous one, so one can never be too certain if danger lurks around the corner. "It's best to be prepared," Law states decisively.

Kiss

Great kisser. Law did not have any prior romantic experiences prior to being in a relationship with you; however, since then, he's had a lot of time to practice. He's able to perfectly balance sucking, biting and using his tongue when kissing you. When he initiates a kiss that's more than a peck on the lips, such as kissing your erogenous zones, it leads to a full-blown makeout session.

First kiss. Law's lips moved hesitantly over yours, his tattooed fingers skimming your blushing cheek, before deciding to gently cradle the side of your face. You were pleasantly surprised at how soft his lips were considering his roughened exterior. The kiss remained tentative at first, both you and him feeling overwhelmed with each other's company. You weren't certain when his hand moved from the side of your face to the back of your head. You felt his calloused fingers interweave with your flowing hair, lightly tugging until you opened your mouth to moan softly. Law deepened the kiss by slipping his teasing tongue inside, eager to hear more of your voice as you moaned for him once more.

Love Confession

You are the first to express your love for him. Law is flabbergasted. How could someone, as kind as you are, have romantic feelings for a man like him? It's a dangerous thought, one he refuses to answer. Meanwhile, Sengoku's words in Dressrosa echo in his head. "Don't ever attach a reason to someone's love." His recklessness presents itself and he allows himself to act.

Staring at you with you such longing in his golden irises, he grabs your arm, intent on closing the distance between your bodies. His grip is gentle yet firm as he drags you over to him, and your face flushes under his observant gaze. Although you were nervous, you refuse to break eye contact, determined to show him how sincere you were. Law responds by molding your eager lips against his. After all, actions speak louder than words.

Marriage

Indifferent. There is no doubt that Law loves you; however, he is indifferent about marriage. If you bring it up as a discussion point to him, he will start to consider the prospect of marriage life. Growing up, he’s seen how happy his parents were, and how much love and affection they showed him and Lami. He wonders if that reality is plausible for him too.

Once the way has been paved for the New Generation of Pirates, Law proposes. In the Captain’s Quarters of the Polar Tang, he presents you with a small velvet box with an inscrutable expression on his face. His golden eyes betray him as they waver in intensity, carefully scrutinizing your face and eyes for movement, for your reaction during this vulnerable moment. When Law proposes, it’s direct and sincere. No flowery language. He speaks from the heart.  “Marry me. I love you.” You were more than happy to oblige.

Being married to Law is primarily the same as it was when you were dating—with two differences being the wedding rings in your left hands, and that you can now refer to one another as a wedded couple.

Nicknames

Law doesn’t use nicknames. He prefers to address you by your actual name. Prior to being in a relationship with you, he addresses you by your epithet as described in your wanted poster. Now, “S/O-ya” is his go-to.

On Cloud Nine

Inconspicuous. Law is the king of keeping your relationship concealed to strangers. While Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin were the first to discover your relationship with the Captain, the rest of the Heart Pirates weren’t aware of your relationship with Law until one year in. Outside the privacy of your bedroom, don’t expect anything more than occasional longing glances passed between each other.

When Law falls in love, he does so gradually. He doesn’t mean to fall in love until he realizes that you have been increasingly pervading his thoughts. At this point, he's in denial. Love is an inconvenience, a weakness that will distract him from his goal in finding the true meaning of the Will of D.

Law eventually comes to terms with his love for you. He feels undeserving, attempting to distance himself from you until you confront him about his aloof behavior. Your stubbornness convinces him that he can't escape. A smile tugs on the corner of his lips before he can stop himself.

PDA

Discreet. You can expect your relationship with Law to be on the down-low. Most people, outside of his crewmates, won't be able to tell that he's in a relationship as he treats you the same way as he would a member of his crew. If people observe him long enough, they'll be able to catch his eyes as they settle on you, wandering a little too long on your form, from across the room.

On the off-chance that someone asks about your relationship with him, Law won't explicitly confirm or deny his relationship with you. He's afraid that word will spread that he’s found a lover, leading to his enemies targeting you to get to him.

Quirk

Competitive. While Law doesn't willingly participate in contests, he finds himself reluctantly dragged into them by you. Due to his physical prowess and mental aptitude, Law is quite skilled in winning a variety of competitions, such as carnival games, trivias, and sports events. He gives the prizes he wins from them to you as a reward for cheering him on.

Romance

Cliché. Prior to being in a relationship with you, Law does not familiarize himself with the ways of courting. Hesitantly, he approaches Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin for advice on how to woo you. Within five seconds of that decision, Law regrets it as the trio begin to pester him with the details of your affair. He knows they mean well, but he can't help his annoyance. "You can't go wrong with flowers and chocolates, Captain," the trio states. He glares at them in acknowledgment, gathering the aforementioned gifts, away from prying eyes.

Law quickly learns that if he wants to make you happy, he needs to be upfront and ask you directly. He is thoughtful, tailoring his gifts toward your preferences. You do the same.

Support

Supportive. Having spent over a decade planning for Donquixote Doflamingo's downfall, Law understands what it means to be committed to achieving one's ambitions. He has nothing but belief in your ability to achieve your goals. With him by your side, he will do everything in his power to assist you. You need only ask.

Thrill

Routine. Law doesn't have the liberty to ponder over new and creative ways to show his love for you. You and him have settled into a comfortable routine. If you're feeling neglected, he expects you to be direct with him. He's not opposed to trying out new things to spice up your relationship; however, he's not a creative man so you should expect to be the one to initiate and propose new ideas.

Understanding

Law is an observant man. He understands you as a person, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, what motivates you. He also has an exceptional memory and has made it a point to remember your favorites and your least favorites as they come up in conversation.

Having experienced pain and grief through losing his loved ones, Law is especially empathetic to those who have suffered the same fate.

Value

Above all else. The love Law has for you is different to the love he has for his crew—his nakama. He loves you above all other things in his life. He is reckless, but knowing that you love him and will never forgive him for being negligent with his life makes him value himself more.

You are worthy of his love, but often times, he thinks to himself, is he worthy of yours?

Wild Card

Law enjoys brushing your hair. He loves the feel of your silky smooth hair and the way you hum in contentment under his care. His hands are always so gentle as he grasps your hair, treating you with a delicacy one can expect from a pirate handling their most prized treasure, which adds to the intimacy of the act.

XOXO

Law is not overly affectionate. Prior to being with you, he was touch-starved. Expect to be the first to initiate intimacy. Kissing and cuddles took some time to get used to. But once that period passes, Law does not hesitate to initiate romance by trailing kisses along your neck, playing with your hair, and feeling your smooth skin beneath your clothes. He prefers the privacy of his quarters when showing you any sort of physical affection.

Yearning

On the surface, Law hides his yearning for you well. During times of separation, he thinks of you as he lies in bed. He thinks of your warmth, your body heat combined with his as you snuggle against each other underneath the comfort of your bed. He thinks of your lips, curled up in a carefree smile, turning into subdued laughter. He returns your mirth with a smile of his own. He thinks of your face and how much he wants to caress your cheeks, feel the smooth skin beneath the roughness of his fingertips. He misses how your face would warm up in response to his touch, how you lean into him, eager for more. He reaches out instinctively, before realization kicks in. You weren't here. He misses you.

Zeal

Law is willing to go to great lengths for your relationship. He's grieved so much at such a young age from losing his mother, father, Lami, and Cora-san. His life is yours. He'll be damned if anyone stands in the way of him and you.

[darling-archeron]

Lucifer Finale Thoughts

Okay, I've thought a lot about Lucifer s6, and overall I've been able to accept the whole time travel aspect, even if I didn't care for it. I think the writers did a great job with everyone else's storylines, I was extremely satisfied with them. That being said, I feel they kind of dropped the ball on Lucifer and Chloe's ending with the time loop. I'm a simple person. I don't think an ending has to be bittersweet or deep or whatever to simply be good.

I like the idea of Lucifer finding his true calling as Hell's therapist. I think it fits him really well. But the idea that he had to make a choice he only made because his daughter begged him and he knew he had already done it....felt so fucking tragic. This choice draws some parallels between Lucifer and God's parenting, and I don't think that's a good thing. This show has always been about choice, they even spend the last 2 eps talking about that, and Lucifer's final choice isn't one. Not really.

He straight up says that what he desires is to stay with Chloe and watch Rory grow up. And he doesn't get that. If he hadn't felt so compelled in the heat of the moment, I don't think he would have agreed. You can argue that it's because he had to make a selfless choice, but he already made that huge sacrifice in the s4 finale. (Also going back to Hell to protect humanity! For what he assumed would be millennia!) Lucifer has proven that he can be selfless, not just for those close to him, but for others. Testing him again was unnecessary.

Lucifer spends the first three seasons trying to escape his father's machinations, and two more accepting that he has more control than he thinks. But this finale completely upturned this message, to the point where I feel as though I have to erase it from my mind to enjoy the rest of the show. If this has all been God's plan - Chloe, Rory, the time loop - then what has the point of rebellion? For Lucifer, he has free will, until he doesn't.

And yes, it makes me happy to know that Lucifer and Chloe get to solve mysteries for eternity in Hell, and I guess they and Rory (Trixie???? though I know she wasn't in this season much due to covid restrictions and s5 was supposed to be the end) will get to make up for all that lost time. The thing that kills me is that you literally only live once. Yes, Lucifer found a calling, but I would say it's just as, if not more, important that he found his family. For a show that harped on a work-life balance for a whole season, Lucifer doesn't get one.

I think it would have been powerful to show Lucifer actively breaking the loop. Undoing it, at worst, means it takes Lucifer a little while longer to find his true calling. I 100% believe he would have eventually. Like, the idea of abandoning your kid so they can be angry with you and eventually travel back in time and help you realize you find your true calling seems so...over the top. Rory was already conceived, so she will still be born. Future Rory is a real person, but at the same time, she's a concept, one of a million possibilities.

When Rory begs Lucifer to leave, it felt as though it was framed for Rory to be making a big sacrifice so her Dad can have his purpose. But I would argue she isn't the one truly sacrificing - Lucifer and Chloe spend years and years apart. Chloe has to actively lie to her daughter, and while Rory doesn't know any better, it's almost blissful ignorance.

And not to be all deus-ex-machina, but Amenadiel, the former angel of TIME, is now God. Why could he not A) give everyone their time loop memories to keep so we avoided this whole kerfuffle, and/or B) changed how time works in hell, so Lucifer can come back to Earth without missing thousands of years of therapy in Hell.

Deckerstar has jumped through countless hurdles to make their relationship work, and they got...what, three months of being a real couple before being torn apart again?

To me, letting Lucifer and Chloe raise Rory and Trixie together, with them in their respective day jobs would work. In order for more souls to heal, the demons could spend time on Earth and grow a soul, as Maze did. Eventually, perhaps they, or some of Lucifer's siblings, could help him down there. Meanwhile, Chloe grows old, and maybe Lucifer self-actualizes an aging appearance too. When her time comes, they both move to Hell, and are partners til the end there. Lucifer popping back up to see Trixie and other friends left living.

This got much longer than I intended. Idk, don't get me wrong, I'm pleased with how everyone else's storyline wrapped up, and whoever decides on the music for the show deserves an Emmy. And I'm happy that Deckerstar eventually gets eternity together. But I can't shake the bitter taste of the series subverting it's core message all for the sake of a "bittersweet" and "heartfelt" finale.

And to the 95% of people who don't follow me for Lucifer, you probably haven't made it this far, but I apologize, and will be back to my regularly scheduled programming soon.

[thesevenumbrellas]

Luther’s arc is so tragic and it kills me that most of the fandom doesn’t see it.

He believed in his father’s goal. He wanted to make the world a better place. He 100% believed that it was their duty to be “the good guys.” He thought he was a superhero. He grew up believing in the greater good, believing that giving up their childhoods was worth it because they could protect people.

We see that when he tries to help his siblings, when he tries to solve his father’s murder. His dad can’t have died because that’s too simple. Because he was trained from an early age to believe that everything bad is evil, that it’s their duty to stop it. He thinks he’s failed when his father dies but he also thinks he can fix it. It’s simple: correct the balance. Bring justice to his father. But it’s not that simple.

And when he realizes his entire life has been a lie? Of course he breaks down! Because he’s given up everything!! He gave up Allison (I don’t agree with the incest but she was still his love interest. He gave up their happy ending for the greater good which never existed!)

He gave up his body. HIS BODY!! His body was changed against his will but he didn’t argue because it was for the greater good. Always for the greater good.

He was imprisoned and isolated on the moon. Why? The greater good! It’s his duty to be good. It’s his birthright to be good. There’s evil on the moon? Then he has to go there. He can’t let himself question what evil or why, because the answers at that point are too glaringly obvious. But he can’t admit that to himself even though he knows because that means he gave up everything for nothing. He gave up Allison, he gave up a future, he gave his life and his body for nothing.

Then he finds out that nothing was real. It’s comes to a point where he can’t ignore the truth any longer. He gave up everything because his father asked him to. For nothing.

Why does he want to be like Klaus? Because the truth is, even Klaus is closer to happiness than Luther is. Klaus knows what makes him happy, knows what he wants to live for. Those should be simple to answer but for Luther they’re not. He is a stranger to himself! He doesn’t know these answers. Luther doesn’t know what’ll make him happy, doesn’t know what to live for. Because he’s been living for his father the entire time.

More than that... Klaus NEVER bought into the bullshit of the greater good! He never believed in their father. So of course Luther wants to be like Klaus. Klaus never wasted any time on their father. Luther wants that time back. Every minute wasted on worry about their father or the greater good. He wants Klaus’ selfish moments, his mistakes. Because Luther was never allowed to make mistakes. He was never allowed to learn from them either.

Luther is the greatest tragedy in the umbrella academy but the fandom hate him because his trauma isn’t cute.

[blinder-secrets]

False Employment

tommy shelby x maid!reader, 5,900 words

warnings: power play, dominance, nsfw

ao3 link

a/n: this is essentially the second piece in a maid series i’ve accidentally started, read michael’s here <3

When you were eight, you’d told your mother that you were going to be a dancer. Then a dressmaker, a poet, a horse-groomer. As a teen, you’d decided that you’d be a wife, just a wife, who’d raise the kids while your husband was away making fortunes, no doubt. Your mother had been happy enough with that idea, but it had soured on you. After all, you thought, why spend your time looking after others and not yourself?

In the end, though, you’d found work as a maid. A house-servant in black and white, cursed to parole the hallways of an estate that’d never feel homely, or private. The irony of it was not lost on you. Employed to look after people that weren’t even yours to look after, half the reasoning but triple the pay. At least this way, the work you did was profitable, and the money you made was saved in your own name. The catch, however, was that you hated it. And you hated it because you were frustratingly terrible at it. No matter how many times Frances taught you to fold the sheets, you got it wrong. Somehow. No matter how carefully you swept, or cleaned, or shined the child’s shoes, you missed a spot. You always missed a fucking spot. It’s like you were cursed, destined to be the worst possible maid in the Midlands, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The strangest part, of course, was that you hadn’t been fired yet. You’d hardly even been chastised. The most unbecoming maid in the history of housekeeping, and you still had your job. You were still paid more than the industry standard. Despite all you knew about him, it seemed Mr. Shelby, unlike most employers, was endlessly forgiving of his staff; it was only when you started to question why, that you realised that wasn’t entirely the case.

On the Friday, you’d been called to bring tea to the front sitting-room. You’d say it’s one of your least favourite tasks but, honestly, they all sit equally on the list of things that you hate to do. The dishes always clatter on the tray, rattling wildly as you take the stairs from the kitchen. The china is scolding to touch each time you go to pour it. The spout is short, the saucers fragile and ill-fitting. Really, there’s a lot less grace in serving tea, than there is in drinking it, and that day was no different.

‘Your tea, Mr. Shelby,’ you announced, once you’d wobbled through the doorway. The milk had spilt onto the metal, but the cups and teapot had stayed strong, thank God. ‘Where would you like it?’

He wasn’t alone, the aunt and his cousin were waiting with him, but only your cold-faced boss had acknowledged the arrival. He was stood by the window, picking a cigarette from his case, and had paused to give instruction that no-one else would offer. His gaze flicked to you briefly, then over to the low coffee table in the centre. ‘There.’

You obliged with a nod, before crossing the room to set the tray and its precarious contents down. ‘Should I pour you some, sir?’ you asked the cousin, hoping he’d say no, hoping he’d let you return to some other, more menial job. One that at least let you work without an audience. Instead, he nodded, and leant forward to hold one of the tea-cups up. Why he couldn’t just leave it there, on the flat surface, where no spills could do any damage, you didn’t know. He probably thought he was being helpful; tragically, he failed to take into account that you were the clumsiest tea-maid in the house.

The handle stung, as expected, the moment you took hold of it, but you were interrupted before you could even begin to pour.

‘Shouldn’t milk go first?’ he asked, continuing once you looked at him like he was wild. ‘In china, to stop it from cracking?’

‘Oh.’ You stuttered, straightening from your bend with the burning teapot in your hand still. ‘Of course,’ you answered. Of course there was some rule you had forgotten, some high-class superstition about breaking the bone china they could replace so easily. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you smiled, and set the tea down again. ‘Sorry, sir.’

When his cup was filled with an inch of the obviously critically important milk, you tried again to pour his tea. The aunt and Mr. Shelby were talking around you, but you were so focused on the act that their words fell away into rubble, just birds chattering between the trees. You lifted the pot again and poured as steadily as your arm would allow.

From the sudden hiss of breath between his teeth, it hadn’t been steady at all. You’d poured scolding tea onto the rim, the saucer, and finally, unfortunately, onto the pinstripe-stretch of his knee.

‘Fuck,’ you burst, ‘sorry.’ The pot went back to the tray quickly, your hands into the pocket of your apron. You hadn’t realised you’d sworn until it was too late to correct it. Another X against your name, surely. ‘Forgive me,’ you told him, pulling a cloth free to offer it, ‘it’s clean.’ At least, for your sake, you’d remembered that dabbing the stain yourself would be inexcusable.

He took it, sighing, and his mother rolled her eyes so plainly that you couldn’t have ignored it if you tried. ‘It’s alright,’ he said, though his scowl didn’t agree. ‘That’s enough anyway.’

You nodded, leaving him to pat awkwardly at the stain, balancing the cup and saucer in his free hand. What Mr. Shelby thought of the ordeal, you didn’t know. He was behind you, quiet, and impossible to see without turning entirely. The embarrassed heat that lingered in your ears was enough to keep you from trying. The last thing you needed, was another unimpressed look sent your way; you got enough of them from Frances.

When you shifted to face the aunt, she spoke before you could, insisting, ‘I can pour my own.’

You smiled before she’d even finished. ‘Course, ma’am,’ you offered with a shallow curtsey. Anything to get out sooner was welcome, even if it was a dig at your serving expertise.

Straightening fully, you smoothed the back of your dress and spun, facing the windows and the silhouette before them. ‘Will that be all, sir?’ you asked as you met his gaze —which had already been there, waiting. Taking account. He’d been watching you fuck up, yet again, probably wondering how you got the job in the first place. You chewed your lip as he deliberated.  

‘Yes,’ he said after a moment, speaking through the cloud of his cigarette, ‘that’ll be all.’

Why you got off so lightly, made no fucking sense, but you weren’t about to stand there and argue with him. Instead, you dipped your knees again and left. It had felt like he’d watched you until you’d gone out of sight, through the doorway, but that was more likely to be a symptom of your over-thinking. Just jumping to paranoid conclusions like you always did, assuming his eyes had clung to your back until the door had shut them away.

By the next week, you were starting to think you weren’t paranoid at all.

Frances had caught you in the hallway between your room and her own, just as you were heading down for something to eat. ‘Mr. Shelby will be home soon,’ she said, stopping in front of you with a sure knot between her brows.

You watched her undo the tie of her pinafore. ‘Okay?’

‘He’ll need his coat taking, and offer him a drink, not supper.’

You balked. Why was she telling you this? ‘Isn’t that your job?’ you asked, feeling dread settle into your stomach. She was top of the hierarchy, the one he trusted most, you were a scullery maid at best. It’d make more sense for his boy to greet him, over you.

She sighed like you were at fault, and folded the pinafore over her arm. ‘He’s asked for you.��

‘He has?’

‘And don’t speak more than you should,’ she continued, ignoring your obvious alarm. ‘Just, just do as I would.’

But you didn’t know what she did. You never paid attention to what she did. ‘Do you think he wants to speak to me?’ you asked, following as she started towards her room. ‘Am I in trouble?’ Was it finally the chopping block for you?

She turned sharply, causing you to stumble to a halt. ‘I think,’ she stressed, ‘that he wants his coat taking.’ Then her door opened and she shut herself inside, leaving you to stand aimlessly in the hallway.

With little else to do, you made your way downstairs to wait within hearing distance of the front door. It didn’t take Mr. Shelby long to require your services, but it did take just long enough for you to think yourself into a panic. No, not a panic, it was more of a steady confidence. A certainty that he had asked for you, specifically, so that he could tell you to work harder. Better. So that he could get you alone, and threaten a cut to your wages if you didn’t stop pouring tea onto his guest’s laps. It was the only plausible reasoning you could settle on.

When he stepped into the entry-way, your heart was beating hard enough to trick your mind into labelling it as excitement. A twisted bout of adrenaline at the thought of being fired. You’d have laughed if you weren’t trying so hard to be professional, instead, you kept your face serious. ‘Good evening, Mr. Shelby,’ you started, moving from your post to meet him. ‘Can I take your coat?’

You thought you saw his lip twitch upwards, but it was redirected into a short nod. ‘Frances changed the rota,’ he said, though it was obvious. He turned, showing you his back, and you pulled the collar from his shoulders before you could overthink the motion.

‘She did, sir,’ you agreed. Don’t talk too much. Don’t talk too much. ‘Have you had your hair cut?’ you asked, unable to stop once you’d noticed the close shave at the back of his head.

He faced you again, letting the coat peel from his arms until he was separate, and you were left to wrangle the heavy fabric alone. To no surprise, he didn’t answer your question. He didn’t even remove his cap. Instead, he stared, squinting slightly, then held the briefcase out for you to take.

You were running out of hands to be useful with. The folded coat was thick enough to render one arm useless, and now his case occupied the other. ‘Would you like something to eat, sir?’

‘No,’ he answered, too quick to have really considered it. Then he looked down, eyes on the leather gloves he was removing, and asked, ‘What’s your name?’

‘[Y/n], sir.’

He repeated it once. Rolled it over his tongue and out again like he was testing for its flavour. Analysing its worth, though he had surely heard it a hundred times before.

Your adrenaline had finally been replaced by fragile nerves. The silence felt like an open invite for critique, and you’d rather have it filled with the forbidden small talk than let it begin. ‘Would you like me to fetch Char—‘

‘Have you lit the fire in my office?’ he asked blankly, interrupting you as he lifted his eyes to yours. The blue alone was enough to quiet you. His stare was more intimidating than luxurious; if he had been watching you as you thought he had, you weren’t sure that was a good thing anymore.

‘No,’ you stammered. ‘Should I have?’ It was dark already, but you hadn’t noticed the cold yourself. ‘Should I do it now, Mr. Shelby?’ you corrected, playing catch up on your responsibilities. ‘I’ll put these down.’

He shook his head and put the gloves, together, on top of his coat. Piled it all on you like you were a walking hat-stand. ‘Make sure you have next time,’ he said. ‘It’s winter.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry.’

It didn’t look like the apology meant anything to him, probably because you had rushed it out nervously, rather than sincerely. You didn’t often know what you were apologising for after all, just that you should be, and that you were normally at fault in the first place. So you said sorry quickly, before he could leave. And then, once he had done, turning from you after a final clinging-look, you said sorry again into the absent space he had left behind. Sorry, Mr. Shelby, don’t fire me, Mr. Shelby. I know I’m a terrible fucking servant, Mr. Shelby. He didn’t look back, nor did he ask for you again that evening. From your perspective, that was a win. It meant he hadn’t planned to stage an intervention, or to tell you off like a scorned school master. He had simply wanted you to do your job, well, Frances’ job, and somehow, you hadn’t massively disappointed. A few mis-placed questions hadn’t caused your downfall, and you found yourself hanging his coat with an easy smile. Perhaps you were valuable to him then, or at least acceptable. Perhaps you were employed for a reason.

When he next went away, you made sure to light the fire before he returned. Clever, you thought, well remembered indeed. What you failed to do, however, was time it well enough that it would be lit, burning strong and heating the room, before you had to meet him at the door. You were still knelt by the hearth when he arrived.

He cleared his throat once, from the doorway, and the noise was loud enough to startle you over the snaps of the fire. You sprang from the floor in one panicked burst of energy, turning in almost the same motion, moving faster than you felt you ever had.

‘Oh, Mr. Shelby,’ you panted. ‘Sorry, sorry, I was just finishing the fire.’

He was fully dressed still. Obviously, because you hadn’t been there to pull the outer layers from him as you should have. It wasn’t even a difficult task and you’d seemingly failed on your second try.

‘Have you been there long?’ you asked, hoping that if you kept him talking, and kept his eyes on yours, he would fail to notice the ash on your knees. The grey powdering of your tights and the hem of your dress, dirtied from kneeling too close to the bricks. It could be brushed away easily, but you hardly wanted more attention drawn to it. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

He shrugged, not bothering with a real answer. The nonchalance made you nervous. He could’ve been standing there for seconds, or he could’ve been there for minutes, watching you bent in half, folded in front of the fire as you worked. Whether someone could even be judged on their fire-making skills, you didn’t know. But he seemed the type to be able to judge anyone for anything.

‘Sorry, I should take your coat,’ you started, crossing the room with your hands out.

‘It’s alright.’ He walked past you before you could even reach him, moulding into the study like he was a part of it. ‘I have to go out again, anyway.’

You nodded. He didn’t offer any other instruction, so you just stood there, dirty like a chimney-sweep, gormless like a fucking goose in the river. ‘Should I go, sir?’ you asked.

His case went on top of the desk, his body dropped into the seat behind it. He didn’t look at you, or answer you, he just pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it. You watched him inhale and exhale once before growing tired.

‘There are things I should be doing, sir,’ you said, hoping to sound more apologetic than rude. In truth, you were just bored. Uncomfortable. You couldn’t stop thinking about the ash on your knees.

It definitely wasn’t paranoia that time. His eyes finally found you, in the middle of the room, and drank you in like you were one of his racehorses. The flashy ones that he bought for the sake of money and money alone. You fidgeted under the weight of them, knowing the crystal irises were skimming every part of you that should’ve been ignored. Especially for a maid, for one of his house-servants. Your body should’ve been nothing beneath the rigidity of your uniform, and yet he scooped it out from between the seams, looked at the curves that you were sure had been hidden.

‘Do you live at the house,’ he started, voice low and catching, ‘or at home?’

‘The house, sir.’ You threaded your fingers together, kept them clutched over your pinafore. ‘I share the room next to Frances.’

The smoke pooled from his lips again, trailing after him as he leant back into his seat. He was looking at you down his nose, through his lashes, holding the silence just long enough for it become taut. Sharp enough to make your cheeks warm.

‘And when she hears the bell at night, do you hear it too?’

You frowned, but nodded. The service bells were mounted on the wall between the doors.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘next time it goes, I want you to see to it.’

His gaze was unmoving. Yours had been charmed into the same fate, unable to pull away from him. ‘Sir?’ you said, understanding his meaning, but not believing it in the slightest. There was no innocent reason for him to switch orders like that. The older woman had always covered the night work, as infrequent as it was.

He cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes in one quick pulse of intent. ‘Let Frances have her rest, eh?’

It was either a promotion, or a proposition. You had neither the gall or the desire to ask which. ‘Of course, Mr. Shelby.’

After that, your encounters with him had remained short and indifferent. You took his coat, brought him tea, whiskey, followed orders when he gave them. You’d watched him, watching you, every time, and thought nothing more of it. Or at least tried not to. You never saw him interact with other staff, so you couldn’t dispel the idea that he treated you any different from them; he could’ve held all of his employees under the same searing gaze and you wouldn’t have known. Frances had commented on his favouring of you, claiming ‘he’d ask for you over anyone else’, but she had seemed relieved all the same. She liked her work, but she liked free time just as much. His request to switch you to the night-calls, however, had been a dormant one, an almost pointless one, because he’d never rang. Never asked anything of you once he’d taken supper.

At least, he hadn’t before now, right now. This very moment. You’d been dragged from your sleep by the dull clanging of the service bell, and now you’re hot-footing down the stairs with your pinafore barely fastened. What the allowed time for dressing is, you have no idea. You’re trying to rush, but there’s no way of knowing how long it has been, or how presentable you are. The only comfort is that he’s yet to ring the bell again, so you obviously haven’t been long enough to make him impatient.

The door to his study is shut, but there’s nowhere else he’d be, so you knock once you’re stood in front of it. You hear him cough from the other side, before saying, ‘Come in.’

Right then. Here you go. You take a few steps into the room, just enough to be present, but not intrusive, and force a quiet breath before speaking. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Shelby?’ you ask, starting as he shows no sign of doing it on your behalf. He hasn’t even looked up to acknowledge you.

He’s leaning on the end of his desk, staring into the embers of the once lit fire, with a half-filled tumbler in his hand. His jacket’s off, shirt sleeves rolled and shoved to sit above the elbow. If it weren’t for the waistcoat, still fastened and adorned with the chain of his pocket-watch, he’d look almost scruffy. Off-guard. ‘So,’ he says, ‘you heard the bell, then.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And you don’t mind the disturbance?’

‘No.’ Though, if he’d brought you down just to test the mechanism, you would hardly be happy about it. ‘Is that all, sir?’

He snorts, following it with a sip of whiskey. The motion causes the gold band around his bicep to catch in the lamplight, glinting at you. A lighthouse through the dark. ‘You don’t get bored of saying sir?’ he asks, finally flicking his eyes in your direction. ‘You say it more than the others.’

Your brows sink together, frowning before you can help it. You weren’t aware there was any other thing to call him, or that sir had a quota, one that you were seemingly well over. ‘Am I wrong to address you as that, Mr. Shelby?’

Quietly, he stands from his lean and tips his head back to finish the final portion of his drink. You watch his neck against the light, follow the whiskey as it travels down his throat. Once it’s empty, he turns to face you with his arm limp by his side, glass dangling in his palm. ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head half-way, ‘call me what you like.’

You catch a whim in the dim-setting, a spark of courage from the fireplace. It’s like the quiet of the house, the certainty of your solitude together, is daring you to test the bounds of your employee-boss relationship. His lingering pause gives the same effect, his blank stare waits to be challenged.

‘Not Tommy, though, sir?’ you ask, wanting to smirk with it, but missing the moment. Or rather, losing the courage as soon as the name’s left your lips.

His chin lifts a fraction. ‘No, not that.’

Tommy is too personal, too close to him. The faint hope you had, that he’d allow you to say it, is squashed into the rug beneath his feet. Without asking, he holds the glass up, arm straight and pointed toward you. You understand his meaning well enough and cross the room to take it from him.

‘Do you often wake a maid, just to pour your whiskey?’ you ask from beside the drinks cabinet. The decanter is there, ready, un-topped and waiting. You fill his glass a quarter, and then a quarter more after a pause of consideration. It doesn’t seem like an evening for single measures.

He doesn’t answer until you’re back in front of him. ‘No,’ he admits shamelessly, leaving you yet another silence to fill.

‘Just me then, sir?’

He nods. ‘Yep, just you.’

He takes the glass and lifts it for a drink. By the time he’s swallowed, and set it down again, you’re two steps back, waiting in the middle of the rug. Anxious for the next order. You’d hoped that the late hour would’ve made him more accessible, more willing to drop the formalities and pretence of your relationship. Instead, it’s made you all the more aware of them. All the more sensitive to the ladder of power between the two of you, and the way he manoeuvres it. He seems so easy, so comfortable, unapologetic of his status and the benefits that it gives him. He can walk the line without risk of misstepping, because he’s the one who sets it.

‘Do you like your job, [y/n]?’ he asks, sounding as if he knows the answer already.

You chew the reply over in your head. As lucky as you’ve been so far, the outright truth might finally throw you into the cold. ‘I like the company,’ you answer, ‘the people.’

He pushes a laugh through his nose, amused but barely smiling still. ‘Didn’t ask you that.’

No, but you won’t lie to him. ‘I’m terrible at my job, sir,’ you say. He surely knows that as well as you do, maybe that’s the reason for him calling on you. It’s time for the meeting you’ve been dreading. The conversation was here at last. ‘In all honesty,’ you tell him, ‘I don’t know why you’ve kept me on.’

Sighing, he half-sits on the desk again, arms folding across his chest. ‘You think you’re that bad?’

‘Awful, sir.’ The added responsibilities have done nothing to improve your prowess. His extra requests have just given you more things to misplace, more damages to cause. ‘Why have you never said anything?’ you ask, adding a ‘sir’ at the raise of his brow. ‘Most people would’ve docked my wages by now.’

He blinks once. ‘Do you want me to punish you?’

The heat it sends up your neck is scorching, embarrassing. For a moment, you forget that he could mean it plainly, that he could speak as an employer and an employer alone. If he had any other expression, you’d be able to validate that, but he’s stoney as ever, waiting for a response like he’d simply asked for the time. ‘No, sir,’ you manage. ‘I just wondered why.’

He takes a sip before answering, hissing the whiskey between the set of his teeth. ‘You know why,’ he says, watching his hands for once, giving you respite from his stare. ‘You look at me just the same.’

‘I do?’

You don’t know why you’re asking, because you’re already in agreement. The self-indulgent glances you’ve taken of him were for the exact same reason you had hoped he looked at you. It wasn’t judgement, but hunger. You had thought it silly to imagine he felt that way too. Maybe men were men after all, easy to read regardless of status, free to want as they liked, but not without the worry of consequence.

‘I don’t want to misunderstand you, Mr. Shelby,’ you say carefully, speaking slow enough to set your thoughts straight. ‘Why do you employ me still?’

You’d expected bravado in reply, but his eyes are on the glass and his voice is taut. ‘I can’t,’ he states. He knows the reasons as well as you do. The chains that bind him, the ones that keep both of your roles in place. There are rules in this house, things that can’t be changed for desire’s sake and he’s counting on you to respect them; the sheer fact that you’re here, alone with him in the middle of the night, proves that his willpower is faltering. He expects you to make up for what he lacks.

The irony, of course, is that you’ve never been any good at meeting expectations. You feel your heartbeat in your skull, right behind your ears, as you take a step forward. ‘Can’t say,’ you challenge, ‘or can’t act on it?’

Another step and you’re an arm’s length away from him.

He puts the glass down and faces you steadily, like he’s flicked the switch back into place, like he’s got cold, iced water in his veins again. ‘You’ll tempt me in my own house, eh?’ he chides, pushing it through a smirk. ‘So quick to be a whore.’

‘I’m not a whore,’ you answer, ‘I’m a maid.’ You chance it and put a hand to his waistcoat, pinching the edge of it between your fingers. He doesn’t stop you. You’re invincible then, you could do anything in the world, and he still wouldn’t think it reason enough to fire you. ‘You don’t seem like a man to ignore his wants, Mr. Shelby.’ Indulge while you can, taste what you’ve been thinking about for so long. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help,’ you purr, ‘then it’s surely my job to do it.’

He doesn’t say anything, but maybe he’s ran out of words. Maybe they’d just take him further from what it is that he wants. Now that you both know it, there’s no reason to discuss. You may be terrible at housework, but men have never been a challenge, you could never fail at something you enjoyed so thoroughly.

Standing, he takes you by the wrist and pulls your fingers free of the waistcoat. He holds your hand in front of your face like you’re a caught criminal. ‘Go back to bed,’ he says, bluntly enough that you almost turn and run. But you were so close to the impossible, so close to tipping over the line, that adrenaline catches you instead.

‘Why?’ Your brows pinch, your manners forget themselves in the disappointment. ‘You suddenly have morals?’ you ask, teetering on laughter. ‘Shame?’ He could kill a man, but fucking his maid is where his ethics hardened. Where they steeled to a stop.  

His jaw sets. For someone so familiar with staff, and giving orders, he’s struggling to put you in your place. You know it’s coming though, you can see the threat behind his eyes.

‘Are you scared, Tommy?’ you taunt. ‘Worried we’ll be found out?’

It was a risk, but it paid off, and he switches the play so easily into his favour, that the wind is knocked out of you before you can piece together what’s happened. He’d pulled you forward, then past him, so that your thighs are against the edge of the desk and his chest is pressed along the length of your back. His arms are either side of you, palms flat on the wooden top. ‘Is that how you want it?’ he bites, putting the question to your neck. Down the collar of your uniform. ‘Ay? Against the boss’s desk?’

‘If that’s what suits you.’

He puts a knee between yours, pushing your legs just far enough apart to feel like he’s predator and you’re prey. Like your body is his to bend, to set in place and enjoy. ‘What?’ he asks, breath hot and liquored by your ear. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

You clear your throat, willing your voice to strengthen. This was what you’d initiated, after all. This is the side you’d asked to see. ‘If that’s what suits, sir,’ you say again, stressing the ‘sir’ like it’s the key to it all, the fuel under the fire. By the way his breath shudders against you, you’re starting to think it is.

He exhales again. ‘We shouldn’t.’ He’s quiet with it, like the thought had escaped without him realising.

‘I want to,’ you insist. You lean forwards slightly, curving your lower back upwards and into him. ‘You want to, sir.’ It was obvious enough. The extra work, the lingering stares, the hardness growing against the back of your thigh —it all lead to one thing, to wanting, lusting. To favouring desire over anything else.

His hands lift from the desk-top to your waist. Taking the bait, then, making it his.

You turn between them, not caring that the motion has skewed your uniform, twisting the skirt beneath his hands until it’s sat, bunched, at your hips. It would have to be moved eventually, taken off entirely if he had the time. ‘If you take any longer,’ you say, ‘the house’ll wake up, Mr. Shelby.’

‘Yeah?’ He lifts you as he answers, putting you onto the desk, and himself between the spread of your legs. ‘And you’ll have duties to attend,’ he says, looking over you, rather than at you. His gaze is foggy from the need. You hum in agreement, playing the game, following his lead as you’re paid to. When his nose finds the space beneath your earlobe, his lips ghosting the edge of your jaw, you melt. You pour into him like scorching gold. ‘I’ll have to have you now,’ he decides, ‘while you’re off the clock.’ The words rumble out of him, low and careless, shouldered by a kiss.

You close your eyes, holding his biceps to keep you upright. ‘If I’m off duty, should I call you sir, or Tommy?’ you ask, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

His mouth opens against your neck, hot and possessive. His lips drag down to the base of your throat before he replies. ‘Are you a maid,’ he asks, panting into the skin, ‘or a whore?’

A whore, you think. He’d never kiss his wife this way, would never have relations like this with any other member of staff. You purl against him as his hand goes between your thighs. ‘Whatever, sir,’ you breathe, ‘I’m whatever you want.’ Right now, you’re a torched flame, you’re a white hot coal, split apart by the heat. His fingers move like he’s known you before. ‘There,’ you tell him, sighing as he finds that tight bundle of nerves through the cotton. ‘There, sir.’

When he kisses you on the mouth, you’re almost surprised enough to reject it. You had wrongly assumed he would avoid kissing you like a lover, but his tongue swept between your lips, pushing in to find yours, and then the thought had gone entirely. You kiss back like you’ve been starved of it, your arms around his neck to ensure that he’ll stay.

‘I imagined it like this,’ he pants, pulling back to say it into your cheek. ‘From the start.’

Really, you want to ask, right from the beginning? But instead, you moan and curl into him, spine mirroring the path his thumb had taken across your clit. ‘I didn’t,’ you breathe, humming as he repeats the motion. ‘I imagined more fucking.’

His hand pulls away fast enough that you regret saying it, but he speaks so urgently that you don’t have time to mourn the loss. ‘Take them off,’ he says, already starting on the fastening of his trousers. ‘Now.’

You do as you’re told, unclipping the garters from your tights, so that you can push your underwear down and over your knees. He’s back against you before you can shake them from your ankles.

‘It’s just a fuck,’ he says, with one hand on himself, and the other on the bare bone of your hip. ‘Alright?’

You nod, meeting his gaze with the same rushed sincerity. ‘I know.’ You hadn’t doubted that for a second. You’re after the same thing he is: relief. A purge of the tension that he had been building between you, a break from the questioning of ‘what if?’.

‘Just a fuck,’ you repeat, desperate now the heartbeat pulses from your head to your toes. Now it thumps from you, to him. You’re sure he can feel it as he presses into you.

He groans, savouring the sensation, and lets his hands stray to grip your thighs. ‘That’s what you wanted?’ he pants, rocking his hips forward again. ‘That answer your question?’

You lie back, over the newspapers and the letters. Let him fuck you like you’re just another object on the desk. ‘Yes,’ you sigh. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, Mr. Shelby.’ It not only answered your question, but clarified another that you had yet to consider. You knew now, why he employed you still, but you’d discovered why you worked for him, too. Why you kept the job you hated, why you hadn’t quit after failing so many times. ‘It’s this,’ you tell him, ‘it’s for this.’