#like. the whole thing is that he owns various shop fronts and puts them up for lease

[sammydem0n64]

Going insane trying to figure out what Percy’s occupation is

[mountsmase]

Cozy Days

———————

Just thinking about cosy days at home with Mason which would be a necessity at this time of year…

It would be one of those days where neither of you have work or any other obligations, and there’s nothing else you need to be doing, so you take the rare chance to relax and spend the day at home together.

The only time you’d leave the house all day would be in the morning to take Ace for a walk and pop to the shops, you’d walk hand in hand to your local supermarket, letting Ace off the lead for a couple of minutes whilst there’s no one else around in a quieter area. Maybe you’d even stop at your favourite coffee shop to pick up some warm drinks and then Mase would wait outside the supermarket with Ace whilst you run inside to grab some ingredients so that you can do some ingredients when you get home.

You’ve been wanting to make some Gingerbread for a while and you've got all of the actual ingredients at home but you wanted to buy some icing, and some chocolates and sweets that you can use as decorations for the gingerbread house you’re going to attempt to build.

You try to be quick in the shops, not wanting to keep Mase and Ace waiting for too long outside but you still grab some extra snacks for the afternoon before paying and going back to find them outside. Mason would take one of the bags from you, not expecting you to carry them both the whole way home and you try and take it back from him because he’s got Ace on the lead and you really don’t mind carrying it but he doesn’t let you have it back.

When you get home you unpack all of the shopping and drag Mason upstairs to get changed. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re already wearing, both in comfy clothes that would be absolutely fine for what you have planned for the rest of the day, but you brought some matching Christmas PJs a couple of weeks ago and you’ve been waiting for a good opportunity to wear them, and now seems like the perfect time.

You put them on and probably convince him to take some photos with you in them, you move in front of the floor length mirror you have in your bedroom to try and take some but he’d be all over you, constantly trying to make you laugh by tickling you and constantly kissing you when you’re about to take a photo. But they’d turn out as some of your favourites, the ones where you’re both laughing and smiling wide.

You’d go downstairs and put a Christmas movie on, maybe Elf or Home Alone, and then go into the kitchen to get started on the baking (i think his house has a joint living/kitchen area so you’d be able to watch the film from the kitchen)

Baking together would be so so fun, maybe you do quite a lot of baking so he lets you take the reigns and steps in to help where and when he can. And I can imagine him being a little shit and trying to get on your nerves, doing things like flicking flour at you or smearing it over your cheek and by the time the gingerbread has been put in the oven you’d be covered in various ingredients and in desperate need of a shower, but it’s funny more than it’s annoying. He could never ignore you no matter how many times he snuck bits of the batter when you weren’t paying attention.

Once it’s all cooked you take them out of the oven and let them cool before cutting up the pieces to the correct sizes to make a gingerbread house with them. Maybe you want to set up a little decorating competition but you don’t have enough to make two so you each take a side and get started on the decorating. It would be a constant race to get the best sweet and chocolate to use as decorations and a lot of them would definitely be eaten before they even make it onto the house.

It’s a bit of a mess by the time you’re finished, both of you having our way too much on it but it’s your own little masterpiece and you love it, maybe you even post some pictures of it to your private Instagram story and make a poll of who’s is the best side. You’d win it and Mason would go all pouty and give you the silent treatment but would crack not even 5 minuets later because he knows for a fact that yours was definitely the better side and he can’t be upset with you even if he was just doing it jokingly.

The baking and decorating would take up most of your day and by the time you’re finished you’re both hungry and ready for dinner but neither of you feel up to cooking so he gets his phone out and orders you a take away. He’d order for you without even needing to ask what you want and he guesses perfectly what you’d want to eat, as he does all the time.

You clean up from the baking whilst waiting for the food to arrive and when it does you eat it in front of the TV, watching the Grinch as your third and final Christmas movie of the day.

After dinner he puts the plates in the dishwasher but would come right back to you on the sofa to watch the rest of the movie. You’d curl up next to him in the corner of the L shaped sofa, pulling a blanket over you to keep warm whilst he reaches over to grab his laptop from the coffee table. You’d sit and do a bit of last minuet Christmas shopping online, getting all the bits and pieces you didn’t manage to find during your shopping trip the other day.

And when you’re ready to head up to bed Mason would disappear upstairs whilst you’re locking up, wanting to treat you a little by running a bath with all of your favourite Christmassy soaps and bath salts. He knows that a bath is your perfect way to end the day and maybe you mentioned having a bit of a headache earlier so he wants to help you fully relax.

But yeah, these types of days would be some of the most special leading up to Christmas, having no pressure at all to go out and do anything specific, instead just going with the flow and doing whatever you feel like doing at home. Whether that’s baking or just cuddling on the sofa and being lazy all day, just having the time to be together during one of the busiest times of year it’s what’s important to you.

———————

Day 10 Concept tomorrow 🎄🎅🏻

[seliasvault]

The Supermarket

this started off as a continuation for the gym!simon fic but it just became it's own thing

supermarket!simon x reader, cw: stalking, dark simon riley

Part one

1 │2 │3

Simon Riley hasn't experienced kindness, so when you show him some, he goes a little crazy.

Grocery shopping is either the funnest thing in the world or the biggest pain in the ass. And right now you're feeling it's the latter.

After a long day of work, walking around a crowded, loud store was not your ideal night. But having no-anything and little to no money, forced you off your spot on the couch, leaving it and your unfinished show behind.

You've survived, barely, trotting the shopping cart, leaning your full body weight onto it for support, eyes half closed as you wait in the checkout line. The day you’re most drained had to, of course, be the busiest day this grocery store's seen.

As you mindlessly scroll through your phone, a sudden sharp pain surges through your back, you’ve been, of course, crashed into by the cart behind you. Letting out a breath of surprise you turn to face the culprit.

Face still twisted in pain, you see a boy, around 10, with not an ounce of remorse on his face. A little annoyed you turn back, and not a minute later you're interrupted by a man, presumably his father. He makes an excuse, profusely apologizing, and so you, of course, accept the apology, give your classic,

"Don't worry about it! It happens!" and what tries to be a genuine smile but miserably fails.

Exasperated, your head is now seated between both your arms as you wait impatiently for your turn.

When you eventually near cash, another thing seems to be against you. The man in front of you, of course, seems to have forgotten his wallet.

You take a quick peek at the total, 115$, a steep number, one that you don't think you could afford, but the line won't move if he doesn't find a way to pay, and the nice thing to do is cover it.

So you chime in,

"Hey, y'know what it's okay I got it," You give him a soft smile, reassuring him that really it's no trouble. Sure you’ll have to skimp on next week's groceries, but a good deed's a good deed, you suppose.

He doesn’t move, like he hadn’t heard you, until you make your way to the machine does he finally speak.

“S’alright, don’t need them anyway.” He goes to leave.

“No really, it’s no problem,” click, you move fast, the money's gone through, not much he can say now. All you can hope for is he takes the food, and leaves so you can crawl back to your couch.

He turns around, looking at you, albeit a little weirdly, you can only see his eyes, the other half of his face covered with what looks to be a mask, the ones that wrap around your neck.

You pay no mind, averting your eyes to look at your cart, on any other day you might be more pleasant, smiling, maybe even small talk.

But the day seems to just get longer and longer, and he stares for another beat, a soft, “Thank you.” follows.

He picks up the bags, all five in one hand, you stare a little too long at the hand that holds them all, before snapping back to reply.

“No problem, have a good night.”

Was his response a little lackluster? Considering you really can’t afford anything else for the month, yes, but who knows maybe it made his day, you shut yourself down before you overthink the whole thing.

Finally, your turn you finish everything up, and your total's 95$, again more than you can afford, and so you put back the homemade burger buns, bread’ll have to do, and that pasta sauce is given back too, along with some extra produce.

You’re total comes up 55$, a number you feel a little more comfortable committing to, you're handed the bags, and you leave.

You take them out to your car, putting them in securely, and head home.

After you’re home, seated on the couch, laptop atop your lap, mindlessly scrolling through various shopping sites, do you receive a call.

Your phone rings often, at least twice a week with a number you’ve never seen and an area code far from where you are, chalking it up to a scam call every time you’ve never answered, this time no different.

You take a quick glance at the phone next to you, not recognizing the number you go back to the pair of red shoes that were on sale for a dangerously good deal.

Your phone rings again, a little weirder this time as scammers tend to call once and move on, but on the off chance it’s not a scam, you're sure they’ll leave a voicemail or a message.

A ding is what furthers your confusion, and the message itself is what chills your bones.

“It’d be in your best interest to answer that.” 

Was it highly unusual? Sure, we’re you a little scared? Yes, but then again it could always be a wrong number. You had recently changed phone plans, and your number changing with it so really it’s a simple explanation, you do however feel bad for whoever that was meant for.

Your phone rings again, worrying you further but you leave it, if whoever texts again you’ll respond, just to put an end to the dings.

“Don’t make me ask again.” 

A little intimidated by now, your mind starts to jump to conclusions, you haven't met anyone new, and haven't given your number to anyone recently.

You text back.

“i think you have the wrong number”

“Last I checked, this was the pretty sweetheart from the supermarket, was it not?” 

You swear your heart stills, before coming back to life, beating tenfold.

This could very well still be a wrong number, everyone goes to the store, just because you did today doesn’t make you special, probably some guy trying to chat up a cashier.

“sorry, i really do think you have the wrong number” 

Your mind flickers through the number of possibilities, it could be a prank, one of your friends trying to scare you. Though, this wasn't the kind of prank they'd pull.

“You sure?” 

“yes???” 

“Then why can I see ya texting lovie? All comfy with your laptop, I think you should get that those, red suits you.” 

Your head whips around to the window your sofa's seated next to, no one's out there, it’s not possible, you live in an apartment building, 20 floors above ground. The only way he could see you was if…

“who is this” 

You get out immediately, sure it’s cliche but it’s all you can manage, all that comes into your anxiety-riddled mind. You're suddenly aware of every noise and every shadow in your living room.

“You know who it is.” 

“i really don't buddy, just answer the question” 

“I think the better question is how got inside, check your kitchen.” 

You feel like you've been doused with ice water, heart beating so loud it's the only thing you can hear. The thought of getting up to investigate, when he's more than likely to be inside. You guess you waited too long contemplating because you hear another ding sound from your phone.

“Check your kitchen, don’t make me make you sweetheart.” 

Your heart skips, hesitantly you stand, slow steps moving toward the kitchen, your eyes scanning for any movement, anything, ears on high alert for the drop of a pin.

When you finally make it around to the kitchen, you're eyes once again scan the corners, the pantry, and then they fall on the counter.

Sat atop are four bills, four hundred dollar bills, alongside a note.

It then finally clicks into your head, the man in front of you in the line.

Surprisingly neat writing,

Had to pay you back,

See you soon.

Eight words scrawled onto a page. Your mind is overwhelmed with the questions flying through, pay you back with four hundred dollars? See you soon?

You grasp at your phone, rushing to text him, to gain some answers, maybe even report him to the police. Pulling open your messages, the text threads disappeared, along with his number from your call log.

You're left even more confused, did he have access to your phone? When was he in the apartment? Was he still here? If he wasn't how could he see you?

Anxiety overwhelms you, as you stare at the large sum of money and the only trace of him on your kitchen counter. 

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi again! Here's the second Henry Sherlock X Peaky idea I had if you wanted! It would be a Sister Holmes X Tommy Shelby where reader is Tom's secretary and has just stated dating him but hasn't told her family yet because she hasn't seen them in a while. Then maybe one day a girl (badly disguised as a boy) is caught snooping around the betting shop and as Arthur takes her to Tom's office for questioning the reader immediately clocks it as her little sister who a agreed to spy for Sherlock. Then reader finds him and is berating him for putting Enola in danger while Sherlock is mad about her ruining their cover because he's investigating Tom for a case and as their arguing the reader says she knows Tom didn't do it because he was with her at the time (maybe she reveals the hickies) and Sherlock just freezes and goes into big bro mode while the Shelby family is trying to figure out what's going on because for once they didn't commit this crime and they haven't heard about the readers family yet. And yeah! That was the other idea😂 idk which to send in so you can choose which you'd rather do! Feel free to change anything about them too! I just desire some Sherlock x Peaky goodness 😂 ❤️❤️ also I hope those weren't too long I just didn't know how to explain them shortly!

Have a great night/day/time! ❤️❤️ and remember: GO YOU!!

Hey Love,

Hope you enjoy this and thank you for waiting so long! Was away on vacation (realized I didn't post that I was away.) Thanks again for these requests! they were so fun!!!

Warnings: Mention of child trafficking/conflict between family / peaky blinders-related themes

You were tired after being up all night. The conditions were nothing to complain about though. You lay in bed thinking about the chaos that surrounded your boss, and your relationship to him. You knew he wasn’t always a good man. But just like the morning sun streaming through your curtains, your mind was hazy. 

This feeling was not something you had experienced before. Complete ease. You were relaxed when he was around, and you even enjoyed being around his family. The feeling was addictive and considering the family you were born into it wasn't a mystery how you had ended up with such an appetite. 

While the Shelby family could match your folks for chaos, they had a consuming warmth about them that was foreign to you.

You thought long and hard on your way to the betting shop. This emotion could be a result of lovemaking, you knew enough about brain chemistry to know that there was a scientific side to these things. But why were you so happy the rest of the time? Why were you becoming so attached to him and his family? 

You got to the betting shop and were thankful to see tea brewing in the kitchen upstairs. You poured a cup and grabbed a muffin from the counter before settling in at your desk. 

Your mind was finally distracted from trying to sort out your feelings. Relief flooded you as you tied your hair out of the way and dug into the various file folders. You were doing your favorite, well, second favorite thing. Analyzing data for patterns. This particular situation was close to your heart you wanted to find the evidence as quickly as possible. 

You were so consumed with compiling evidence that you didn't even notice that something had kicked up in the betting shop until Arthur had dragged the commotion to the front of your desk. 

He held a girl dressed in boy's clothes by the collar of her shirt. The girl was young with a face that resembled yours a great deal. Your stomach dropped and you weren't sure if you wanted to shout at him to take his hands off of her or die of embarrassment. 

Your own appearance was embarrassing enough, your hair was tied up in a scarf, and your thick-rimmed reading glasses probably only made your eyes look even wider than they were. 

“Enola?!” You hissed. Your whole nervous system kicked into high gear. She could have been killed. Arthur could have killed your baby sister. 

You stood up and Arthur was smart enough to release his grip on her. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing?!” She looked up at you with sad eyes, a trick that had been abused many times over the years of broken dolls and colored pencil scribbles on the pages of your books. 

“Arthur?! What on earth-” Polly shouted from upstairs. 

“Eh - Looks like it's being handled,” Arthur called back, giving you a wink. His face told you that he knew exactly what emotion you were feeling. Older sibling to older sibling, he was going to let you handle your sister. Rather than the alternative, which would have been to put her in the cellar till Thomas got back. 

Your stomach dropped. 

“Enola what the fuck.” Your voice was low and she gave up on looking sad. 

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and you fought the urge to slap her. She gave you a meaningful look and slowly said “It’s family business” 

Arthur snorted slightly. Polly was coming down the stairs. 

“I called Thomas. Now what is going-” She started but you cut her off. 

“Enola, why are you here, I trust them with family business.” 

“Well, you shouldn't.” She snorted and you hated the arrogance that was radiating off of the girl. This attitude and performance lead you to the conclusion that Sherlock must have sent her. She was always hungry for his approval. 

“What does Sherlock want with them?” You asked firmly. Her eyes widened slightly but she brushed it off. 

“How long have you worked here?” She said giving you a cold look. 

“I’m the one interrogating you.” You reminded her. “Now where is Sherlock? I’ll just ask him myself.” 

Just then as if summoned he came through the doorway with Thomas. Your temper flared up and you gripped the edge of your desk to steady yourself. 

“Could have just called me.” You said trying to keep the anger out of your voice. 

“You can’t really be trusted on this one.” He said in his usual unbothered tone. You knew that this mess was clearly for an ongoing case and that because you were employed here you couldn't be involved. But it hurt non the less. 

“Right.” You said narrowing your eyes. “Get it over with. Now.” You demanded, unsure if Arthur took a step closer toward you in an effort to show solidarity or if it was in case you ended up being a threat to the family. 

“Well, I’ve been employed by a family to investigate the Shelby family here. Yesterday it became an active murder investigation..” 

You watched an expression cross Thomas’s face and you wondered if he lied about that part of his life being packed away. You caught a look of confusion on Polly’s face that quickly turned into a stony mask. She didn't know what this was about, but she’d turn on you if it was necessary. 

“What family and when?” You said sharply. You felt Thomas’s cold eyes stay locked on you. 

“Harris, I placed the time of death around 8pm.” He bit back. 

“We were at dinner, I can account for his whereabouts for the whole evening. Before you accuse me of lying, I’ve been looking through all their books and paperwork.” You picked up the papers you had been collecting your findings on. You almost wanted to laugh at your luck, for once you had the upper hand. 

“Your employer didn't take too kindly to us after we refused an offer they made regarding the children at the orphanage.” Sherlock’s face paled slightly. “I’ve got more than enough evidence through the paperwork here to put them away for life. Human trafficking.” 

You both entered a famous Holmes staring contest and he knew that he’d messed up. You weren't expecting him to look so angry though. Sure when you were children he would get mad like this. You hoped he was angry at the horrible crimes being committed but something in your stomach said otherwise. 

You wanted to break and look to Thomas. You suddenly became aware yet again that your hair was messy and you were still wearing your glasses. You normally always took them off when someone was approaching. Your cheeks got slightly pink at the thought of him judging you. 

“The real question is what will we do to bring them down,” Polly said trying to break up the tension. 

“Why this?” Sherlock’s voice cut like a knife as he gestured to the room.  

“We can discuss this later.” He didn't budge and you were grateful that Polly started to pull Enola up the stairs. 

“Come let's get you some tea and a snack,” She said quietly. Polly shot Arthur a look over her shoulder. He gave you a reluctant look but followed her out of the room. 

Thomas stayed against the wall looking as relaxed and bored as he always did when in the company of outsiders. 

“Why them?”Sherlock repeated once he realized Thomas wouldn't be leaving, and you realized it was the same question that had been nagging you all morning. 

“They make me happy. He makes me happy.” You said quickly. 

“They are criminals.” 

“These are hard-working people. You snoop around if you like, but you won't find anything criminal here.” You knew this because you handled the transition of the business yourself. 

“I don't like it.” He said firmly and the emotion he was giving off finally made sense. He wasn't one-upping you, he was trying to protect you. 

“You wouldn't like it if it was anyone else either.” You said with a small smile finally understanding. “I’m sure we can help each other with this?” You gestured to the paperwork. 

“Of course.” He nodded and came to stand next to you. Just like that things fell into their usual flow,  you explaining a pattern and him trying to prove you wrong to help narrow it down. You and him went back and forth at a rapid pace and within a few moments, he was in agreement with you. Just then you heard Enola speak. 

“Did I miss all the good stuff?” She asked Thomas and you looked up, breaking your concentration. He gave her a small smile. Once seeing his friendly nature you went back to pulling the last of the stolen documents you hadn't examined yet. 

“I think they have most of it sorted,” Thomas responded. 

“Damn.” Enola sighed. “Was it cool? I bet it was cool.” 

“Very.” Thomas’s response caught you off guard. 

“Sorry about your shop - and everything.” She said in an uncharacteristically shy voice.

“It’s alright. Feel free to stop by anytime.” You watched Enola’s face light up at his words. While they were legal on paper, you knew this was a dangerous place and probably always would be. Was Sherlock's world any different? As long as the family kept her safe she would be fine you reassured yourself. 

“Thanks.” She held out her hand to him.

“Enola.” 

“Thomas.” 

They chatted and your heart got a little bit softer the more they spoke. 

“This is enough to take to the inspector.” Sherlock finally said officially letting you win in his own way.

Your eyes snapped up and looked to Thomas, he was listening to something Enola was explaining. He gave you a nod before looking back at your little sister. 

“Excellent - erm Thanks.” You said not sure how to proceed with things. “I know they have a rough history. But so do we.” 

“You and Enola are my responsibility. I’ll be around.” He gave you a long look before standing up. He shook hands with Thomas and you walked him and Enola to the front door. You said your goodbyes and watched them hail a cab. 

Once they were on their way you took a few deep breaths before going back into the shop. You took your hair down and tucked your glasses into the pocket of your sweater. 

After another moment you went back inside to apologize. 

You came back in and heard their voices from the bottom of the stairs. It sounded like they were filling John in on what he had missed. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like watching a machine or something.” Thomas said and you weren't sure how you felt about his words. You were a receptionist on paper, you could have done many things with your life. But this job was invisible. No one bothered you, no one compared you to either of your big brothers. It was comfortable. When Thomas asked you to take a look at things you were simply going to give him your findings so he could bring those bastards down. You didn't want credit or publicity. You certainly didn't want him to see you as that nerdy girl with glasses who had so often been belittled. 

“Machine or not, she’s one of them. She’s handled everything! She could take us down any moment - you just can’t-” Polly hissed and you felt her words cut through you like hot knives. 

“I’ll handle it.” Thomas cut her off darkly and you felt like you had been dunked into cold water. 

“Tom - at least hear her out. Not like they treated her nicely. Maybe she’s different?” Arthur said in a pleading tone but there was no response. 

You knocked on the door frame to announce your presence. Sharp eyes landed on you and you took a breath trying to look composed. 

“Walk me home?” You asked Thomas and he looked at you for a long moment as if he was studying something strange in a museum. He gave you a nod and took your arm. 

He didn't say a word the whole way back. You felt his eyes land on you periodically and each time your heart rate sped up. These were last looks and you could feel parts of you start o spin out of control. 

You opened the door to your flat with shaking hands. Once you pushed it open the stuffy air made it even harder to breathe. He shut the door and locked it, the sound making your chest constrict even tighter. You felt like you were being suffocated, but now wasn't the time to show such emotions. 

“Why did you help us?” The question was simple and you were relieved he was going to hear you out, even if he just had the patience for a fraction of the story, it would lessen the burden on your chest significantly. 

“You needed help. You wanted to be better.” It was hard to get your voice up above a whisper. Your mind flashed to all the times you wondered about him and his family and why they would be converting their business over to be completely legal in the first place. They would reach much farther opportunities being shady. What was in it for them? But there was always something shining in Thomas’s eyes that answered your question. Pride. He didn't care about making more money at this point. He cared about his family being respected after a hard life of being dismissed and shit on. 

You remembered the various balls and social events you had been forced into at Mycrofts side. All the men that had tried to take your hand in marriage. All from grand wealthy families that had started much like Thomas had. It was unavoidable. You thought about how your life would have been as a wife instead of a gangster's girlfriend. 

“You could have turned us in any time. Given your bothers the tip-off”

Brothers plural. So he knew Mycroft too. Fuck. 

“Why would I?” You mumbled feeling defeated. “They care about themselves. Well, not Sherlock, he cares in his own way. Enola is just a kid still. Mycroft only cares about himself.”

“He hasn't pressured you for information on us?” 

“We would have to talk for him to do that. As far as he knows I’m a “worthless spinster living within the dregs of society.” You mocked his voice feeling frustrated. If his existence was the thing to fuck this up for you, you would find a way to make him pay for it. 

“Why didn't you tell me about your family?” He was still as cold as you expected him to be but there was a slight toe of hurt in his voice. 

“Well, there's the Holmes family that everyone sees and then the other side. I just - I really like it here. Your family is - more - they like me. They seem to enjoy having me around. It’s not a big competition all the time. And then you -” Your voice cut and tears started to become unavoidable. 

“Well, nothing bad has happened.” he shrugged. “Mycroft certainly doesn't know we're together.” He said with a smile. You wanted to know how he knew that.

“Everything was destroyed anyway. It would be my word against yours, and as you can see no one listens to me anyway.” 

“I do.” He said and pulled you against him into a tight hug. 

_________________

He proposes shortly after.

Mycroft finds out and needs to be taken to the hospital because he thinks he's having a heart attack

Sherlock randomly shows up at Arrow House while You are shopping with Enola. Examining the whole house while Tommy smokes and follows him. Eventually, Sherlock agrees that this is a fine house for you to run. That if Thomas fucks up in any way that Sherlock would kill him and that Sherlock was sure he wouldn't get caught. They shake on it.

They end up working together occasionally. Enola becoming very attached to Esme & Polly. Sherlock eventually becoming fond of the family and occasionally accepting a dinner invitation when he had time.

[distracted-obsessions]

For Villain Stuff: Ex-Villain has joined the team and they're all pretty tense at first. But they all begin to warm up to Villain ever so slightly-nothing too crazy, but not nothing either. Villain even becomes something a little almost like friends with A. But then something happens. Maybe a member of the team/the whole team is just very stressed and Villain does something slightly off at the wrong time, and the stressed teammate/whole team except A just goes off on them saying terrible stuff. It's so bad that Villain runs off/leaves. Then the next day, A has to find out what happened from the remorseful teammate/team and how Villain is gone. And this makes A realize how they all, them included, really should have given Villain more of a chance and A tells the rest of the team how hard Villain is trying.

Then also the even more awkward situation once Villain comes back, still feeling slightly betrayed by the team and assuming A feels the same way too, as the others try to apologize/make up for it and A tries to regain their friendship.

Hero woke to the sound of an alarm. It was their least favorite sound by far since it wasn't their personal alarm but the 'everyone get up right now before we all die' alarm.

They rolled out of bed, not bothering to put on daytime clothes as they stumbled towards the war room. They found the team already there, all of them looking grim, and Villain noticeably missing.

Hero winced, remembering yesterday. Teammate had been in one of their moods yesterday and Villain had made a joke about them being a prickly bastard. Teammate had snapped back at him, saying that he was one to talk with the kind of 'prickliness' he used to show the team. Villain had laughed it off but then the others had piled on, mentioning things he had done and it had gotten a little personal. Personal enough that Villain had just left the room without a word.

"Hey, guys," Hero said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Villain still sleeping?"

The team all shared glances but said nothing.

"Leader?" Hero asked hesitantly. "What's going on? Where's Villain?"

Leader sighed, turning her attention to the computer screen. It showed a list of various villains, fences, and identity brokers. "He's gone. We don't know where or if he left with anything but his tracking anklet was on his bedside table. And he's nowhere in the base."

Hero felt the blood drain from their face. They knew yesterday was less then pleasant but was it really enough to make him run? They glanced over Leader's shoulder and realized that the list was a list of Villain's former associates. They felt a flare of rage at that being the teams first thought. It was almost enough to overpower their own guilt for thinking the same.

"Oh come on!" Hero said, pressing a button to t,urn off the screen. "He's not going to just run back to villainy after one bad day!"

Leader gave them a confused look. "What do you mean, one bad day? What bad day?"

"I mean yesterday." Hero looked around at the team finding only confused faces. "You guys were pretty rough on him, you know."

"We were just talking shop," Youngest said. "We do that all the time."

"But do we do it in front of the villains?" Hero asked. "He was really uncomfortable. He left the room."

"It wasn’t that bad," Teammate said, rolling their eyes.

Hero turned to Teammate and raised an eyebrow. "You personally called his life's goal that we thwarted only like two months ago 'a child's temper tantrum'. I don't think I'm the only one who thinks that might be a little hurtful."

Teammate sipped their coffee and said nothing.

"Anyway, he didn't just go back to villainy over that!" Hero said firmly. They remembered the look on Villain's face as he left, clicking through his phone as he mumbled about knowing who his real friends were. "...Probably," they added, less sure.

Leader came over and put a hand on Hero's shoulder. "It's ok, Hero. We'll find him. And we'll deal with any consequences that arise."

Hero nodded and walked back out of the war room. This was going to need daytime clothes.

...

Eight hours. Eight hours and no sign of Villain. Hero was not one to give up hope but they knew how good Villain was at disappearing when he needed to.

Hero had just been ready to take a break for lunch when they heard the sound of someone hissing and spitting, probably while being dragged in handcuffs. They knew the sound well but there was something familiar about it.

"Will you lay off?! I know where we're going! I live here, remember?"

The whole team turned towards the door and watched as four cops dragged Villain into the war room. They threw Villain into the room and Villain, who's hands were cuffed behind his back, stumbled forward and just barely managed to twist his body to sit in the chair that Teammate pulled out for him. His glare was vicious.

"Where the hell did you find him?" Leader asked, staring at Villain in surprise.

"I went out to get an Irish Coffee," Villain said, passing that same glare to Leader.

"Six states away?" One of the cops asked.

"Without your tracker?" Leader asked.

"Or telling anyone?" Teammate asked.

Villain squirmed around until he was sitting down in the chair properly, looking like he was trying to pretend that he wasn't pouting. "I spent my twenties in that town. I wanted that specific Irish Coffee. I took public transit. I used my agency ID. I didn't exactly try to hide. What, did you want me to leave a note?"

"Preferably," Leader said. She sighed and waved the cops away. They left, leaving Villain and the team alone.

There was a moment of silence before Villain leaned forward, rattling the cuffs. "Can I get these off or have I been officially been given villain status again?"

"Villain, now really isn't the time for you to be defensive. You're the one-"

"No, I think I can be defensive all I want!" Villain said. "How long did it take for you to put out an APB? I know you canceled my card after what, 30 minutes?"

"Villain," Leader started. "You have to understand that-"

"No! No, you have to understand! How long do I have to work with you to get some trust? I thought that I might have enough trust that you would at least wait a full day before assuming I fell back into old temper tantrums." He looked Teammate when he said that. They didn't meet his eyes.

Villain sighed. "Look. Just uncuff me. I'll go put my tracker back on and I won't take it off until whatever new tracker you ordered while I was gone gets here."

Leader sighed again and helped Villain out of the cuffs. "Look, we just need more communication. Ok?"

Villain shrugged, standing and rubbing his wrists. "Great. I'm going to put the tracker back on and then make myself an Irish Coffee." Villain frowned. "Since the cops spilled mine."

The team watched Villain leave again and Hero looked at the other three before calling out, "Am I invited?"

Villain poked his head back in, looking at Hero critically. "Did you cancel my card?"

"No?"

"Of course you're invited! I'll make you one." Villain smiled at Hero but Hero couldn't miss the slightly vicious note in his eyes as he walked out. Hero followed after and glanced back at the team.

"You all need to figure out how to fix that." Hero pointed at them in turn then walked away to follow Villain. I'll have to fix my end.

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 25: [HOST] asmo / shopping trips

ao3 link

note: the symbiote is now nicknamed charlie, and i think that's all the extra info you need? also whoaa second to last!! one more and i'll finally have finished this (which i really should've have done ages ago shfbdjshf)

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

Asmo is - inarguably - an excellent shopper. He knows his brothers’ tastes, inside and out (not that he necessarily agrees with all of them, but he knows them). Certain brothers are easier to buy for than others, but he at least knows that, given a day, he can come back with something they’ll like - clothes, ornaments, or otherwise. Thus, it isn't a surprise that he’s put in charge of new clothes when the House of Lamentation first takes in its new ward.

It’s simple in the early days: find an old t-shirt, wash it well with a scentless detergent, then shrink it down to the size of a small smock. For IK, it seems comfortable and familiar.

She creeps out of the closet still clutching her old gown and stands there silently. Asmo resists the impulse to clap, and instead asks, “Comfy?”

IK doesn’t seem to know what he means. Moving slowly, he points to her, then to his own soft smile, then tilts his head to the side. After a moment, she nods.

“That’s enough for me,” He sighs, then stands up. “Alright, my darling. You’re doing great. Think you can come down with me?”

Every step up is slow, but it feels like they’re scaling mountains. Asmo spends a week stitching together a simple blouse and skirt, and hopefully leaves it in her room overnight. The next day, IK wanders out into the common room and asks him to help her do up the buttons. On the same morning, she lets him brush her hair.

Every occasion is momentous; every stride without fear is victory. In these conditions, it’s very easy for certain demons to gain false confidence when overlooking these precipices.

Two facts: first, Asmo is an optimist with confidence to a fault. Second, he’s just as capable as certain demons of making poor decisions on impulse.

IK’s first shopping trip is a disaster. Several weeks of excellent progress with forays into the outside world culminate in one impatient customer in a department store. They barge past in the shoe aisle and brush a little too close, a little too quickly, and just as quickly find themselves - and the entire store - surrounded down by a forest of angry black tendrils.

Another fact: Asmo has little sympathy for those who bring ill fortune on themselves. By the time Lucifer and Satan arrive to salvage the situation, Asmo is still berating the pushy demon for starting this whole mess in the first place. To be fair, Lucifer doesn’t help much, as he immediately falls to scolding Asmo, which leaves Satan to attempt to talk things out with an irate manager.

IK is just about the only one who comes out of the situation happy - Charlie, while still wreaking havoc for everyone else, has gotten rather good at self-soothing its skittish host. While Satan loses patience with the manager and begins shouting louder than everyone else, and while that poor pushy demon attempts to get either Lucifer or Asmo’s attention, Charlie leads IK through to the kitchen appliances section and begins happily destroying the place.

It takes longer than everything else to track IK down and remove several sharp instruments from the various extra limbs Charlie has sprouted. They discover in the aftermath that Charlie has also learnt to shoplift, which means IK comes away with a figurine from the front desk that Satan’s too irritated with the shop owner to return.

The bills afterwards are eye-watering. It’s a good thing Diavolo finds the whole escapade so amusing, or else they might never have been able to show their faces in public again.

It’s quite some time before Asmo’s brave enough to try again. So long, in fact, that IK outpaces him - she goes grocery shopping with the twins, accompanies Levi to one of his quieter pop-up cosplay events, and spends a day at a petting zoo with the angels. That terrified little baby hiding under a table feels more and more like the distant past, but for some reason… he’s still cautious.

There are just too many wild cards, and not enough contingency plans for them all. Sure, it’s been a long time since seeing a stranger has been enough to send Charlie into crisis mode, but impatient shoppers manage to set new lows every day.

It’s not about the clean-up afterwards. However brief it is, that flash of terror on IK’s little face always manages to break his heart all over again. It’s worth as many finger-pricks as it takes to avoid that, even if he has to stitch every little outfit by hand.

Still! There’s a first time for everything, but there’s also a second chance at everything. Nearly three months after that cataclysmic first trip, Asmo decides it’s finally time to try again. Redeem himself, so to speak.

They’ll go around some quieter local stores, instead of big chain outlets like the one from last time. Solomon’s had success showing IK around second-hand witch shops and apothecaries, and he knows from Satan that she likes the old shoe-maker down the street from the cat cafe.

Clothes aren’t as much of a concern now that he’s gotten the hang of sewing, but there’s lots more to see. The issue is that IK makes it so difficult to tell what she actually thinks of anything - it doesn’t help that, in all her practising of her smiles, she’s also learnt the Polite Smile. (Asmo’s not sure from who, but he has his money on Simeon.)

“Darling,” He says worriedly when IK nods obediently to the seventh ribbon in a row. “You know you can tell me if you don’t like something.”

She thinks about this for a while, then announces, “I don’t like beetroot.”

“That’s di— I mean, beetroot’s good for you, darling.”

“It looks like chopped blood.”

He sighs. “...never mind. That doesn’t matter. I mean, you can tell me if you don’t want all this stuff.”

“Charlie likes ribbons,” IK says. “They’re fun to rip up.”

Maybe we need to get some dog toys for it. “And what about you, darling?”

IK looks a little lost. A moment passes without a response, and Asmo sighs.

“Alright,” He says after a moment. “We’ll get the ribbons for Charlie. But promise you’ll tell me if you see something you like, okay?”

“Okay,” says IK, still looking gently puzzled. But she seems happy enough when he pays for the ribbons at the counter.

…it’s easy to forget how many more steps there are to go. It wasn’t all that long ago that she was confounded by smiling - though this isn’t quite the same thing.

Charlie likes everything from clacky hair-clips to lollipops with a fizzy centre. IK doesn’t like scratchy jackets or heavy bracelets. It’s hard to tell who’s talking - where one ends and the other begins.

“But what do you like?” Asmo asks what feels like a hundred times, and each time she looks as if he’s asked her a stupid question.

“I like blankets,” She’ll say, and he’ll find a fluffy patchwork quilt. IK will run her hands over it inquisitively, then nod and say, “Charlie loves it.”

He asks again and again, and each time there’s a new answer. “I like riding on Beel’s shoulders.” “I like Simeon’s cakes.” “I like Mammon.”

And he asks again after they leave a haberdasher with several spools of brightly coloured thread. IK must be thoroughly sick of him by now, but she answers valiantly, “I like Momo.”

Momo is her toy panda. Asmo had bought it on his way home from some promotional event, and she’s loved it ever since. Momo is named after Asmo, because IK loves both of them.

Asmo pauses. IK is almost stumbling on her feet. They’ve been browsing for ages - he’s been so determined to find something IK loves, and not Charlie.

“It’s late, isn’t it?” He asks apologetically, and reaches down to carry her, swapping all his bags to one arm with ease. “We should go home.”

IK doesn’t seem to hear him. She answers his first question again, face scrunched as if working hard to remember, “I like Levi’s jellyfish. I like my room.”

“I know, I know…” For some reason, he feels like crying. “You’re tired, huh? Come here, come here…”

His arms are definitely going to complain tomorrow morning, but for now he can hold everything up without much thought. IK clings to him and continues listing, “I like tea parties. I like the Little Ds.”

“That’s enough, sweetheart,” He murmurs, turning onto the main road to start heading home. If anyone tries approaching him, he swears he’ll snap. “I know.”

IK finally goes quiet. She lays her head on his shoulder, inadvertently poking her little horn into his neck. It already feels like there’s something lodged in there, so it doesn’t make much difference.

“I like this,” She says after a moment. “I like you. And Charlie likes you. Okay?”

He pauses in the middle of the street and earns a few side-eyes from the demons around him.

“...okay,” He whispers. “That’s enough for me.”

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette inspected her various flowers one more time. Even as a florist, she probably put too much focus on checking and rechecking her garden, but she adored the process or making things look beautiful. It wasn't dissimilar to her fashion hobby in how it took effort but paid off in the end as long as one knew what they were doing.

Satisfied with her work, she left the greenhouse area and went to the front of the store behind the counter. Placing her hands on the edge, she arched her back, taking a deep breath to inhale the pleasant scent of flowers permeating her whole shop. She was fairly certain the scent had even overpowered her perfume, making her wonder if it was worth using in the first place.

As she was steeping a cup of tea to prepare for another day of work, the bell at her door chimed to indicate that someone had come in. She looked up, wearing her usual smile specifically for customers, but it faltered when she took in the customer in question.

It was a young man, sporting black hair that turned blue at the tips. The hair alone wasn't strange - either people had it naturally or others dyed theirs to imitate it - but it was that he had flowers in it with no sign of what was attaching them.

Marinette knew her flowers as well as her fashion enough to tell that they were not only real flowers, but they didn't seem attached by any sort of hair clip. In fact, she'd never even heard of anyone using real flowers as a form of fashion statement unless it was extremely temporary, whereas the mystery man walked like he was used to it.

"Hi," he greeted casually, stepping up to the counter.

She snapped out of her stunned state, just enough to reply, "O-oh! Hello! How can I help you?" She pointed, giggling sheepishly and adding, "N-normally, I'd ask what kind of flowers you want, but I think you have enough!"

She'd said it to distract from her being distracted, but winced when she considered that it could come off as an insult. Luckily, the man took it in stride, even letting out a chuckle.

"I do, but I'm still here to talk about flowers." He put a hand on the counter and leaned against it, running his fingers through his hair with his other hand.

Marinette watched in silent awe at how his touch didn't disturb the flowers at all. She kept waiting for them to fall out, but they truly seemed stuck there. She could only nod, curious about what he was going to talk about.

"I'll get to the chorus right away," he began. "My family's descended from flower nymphs. The genes aren't that strong, so they might skip a few generations, but some of us wind up with..." He gestured to his hair for emphasis.

She'd heard of flower nymphs before, but never actually met one. Anyone outside the realm of "normal humans" tended to have their own places to go, simply because they preferred living in different areas or having different lives, but she supposed that anyone who only had a few traits passed down could live a "normal" life amongst other non-magical humans.

"S-so those are real?" she asked, then corrected since she'd already known that, "I mean, they're a part of you?"

"Yeah."

Unconsciously, Marinette reached up, almost needing to see for herself. Her fingers slipped into his hair and through the lavender flowers growing out of it. The feeling wasn't unlike normal hair, though somewhat damp as if it had almost finished drying from a shower. She suspected that the flowers still needed moisture in the way that they did from soil.

As she felt, she noted a sensation under her hand and froze. In real time, she saw a bud form between her middle and ring fingers, blooming into what she recognized as a violet. Her lips parted in amazement and she looked down at the man's face, wondering if he'd done it on purpose.

What she ended up seeing instead was a hint of a blush on his face, his gaze averted to the wall. Her eyes darted from the violet, to his face, and then back to the violet again, somewhere in her mind registering shyness.

She pulled her hand back, blushing deeper as what she'd done registered. The experience had reminded her that flower meanings didn't merely come from nowhere - they were often based on whatever flower nymphs were feeling in the moment of growing whichever flower - but she'd also just embarrassed herself and invaded his personal space, so it wasn't ideal.

"S-sorry." She looked away, rubbing the back of her neck. "I get kind of excited when it comes to this stuff."

"It's alright." He cleared his throat, the smile in his voice returning. "My sister already told me what you'd be like, and I don't mind."

"Your sister?" She peeked at him, mulling over who he could possibly be talking about.

He placed a hand to his chest, explaining, "I'm Luka. Luka Couffaine."

"Couf—ah!" Recognition hit immediately, Marinette smacking the counter with a hand. Pointing at him, she blurted out in surprise, "You're Juleka's older brother!"

He beamed, nodding to confirm. She'd heard about him quite a few times, but had never gotten the chance to properly meet him. Juleka herself had also conveniently left out the whole, "by the way, my brother grows flowers out of his hair," thing. The worst part was that she couldn't be sure if Juleka had left it out innocently, perhaps from having grown up with and thus no longer having thought anything about it, or if it was out of a mischievous sense of humor.

She could believe either, but perhaps it was her own fault. While Luka looked nothing like Juleka in terms of physical traits, they had similar ways of dressing. It was almost strange on him with the combination of torn clothing and jewelry, yet paired with a calm expression and a built-in flower crown, but she didn't dislike it.

Luka, apparently having already recovered from the event, tapped an idle melody on the counter and continued, "She told me you used to help her with her hair. I wanted to ask if you could help me too."

Marinette eyed his hair again, but focused on its length this time. It wasn't long by any means, unlike Juleka's.

"I know it's not much to work with," he clarified, "but people get uncomfortable around me when they see these grow." He tugged gently at the petals of the violet. "I can't cover them with a hat or I get uncomfortable, so I thought I could get an expert to take care of it."

She put her hands to her chest, horrified by the mere thought. "You want me to cut off your flowers? That's crazy! People are stupid for being uncomfortable over something like that!"

Even though she'd said it, she couldn't say she was surprised either. In all aspects, she was a "normal" human without an ounce of magic, yet people had looked at her funny ever since she was a kid.

"Thanks." Luka grinned at her, though added in a semi-teasing tone, "I could've guessed that you liked them, but it's still nice hearing you say it."

Marinette blushed, pouting at him, but it was hard to complain about him taking her touches in stride. Maybe he even approved somehow, and she hadn't just ruined the first impression she'd given to her friend's older brother.

He raised his hands up in a show of peace. "Sorry. I don't want to say anything to make you uneasy, or make you do anything you don't want to. Cutting my flowers can stop any more from growing for a while, but if you could figure out a way to hide them instead, that'd work too."

She pressed her lips together, considering the suggestion. Of course, she had so much more to ask him - "Could you get overwatered? Can you swim without worrying about that?" "Do you like to relax in the sun? Maybe you could tell me if my flowers like the greenhouse." "Has anyone ever tried to pick flowers off you before? Or have you ever picked petals off yourself to make decisions?" - but she knew she could ask those sorts of things if they ever got closer.

It only occurred to her then that she hadn't yet said anything about his request. Straightening up, she gave him a reassuring smile and replied, "I'd love to help you if I can. Maybe you can visit after closing time and we can talk a little more?"

"I'd love that." A hint of tension released from his shoulders as he exhaled. Reaching a hand out to shake on the agreement, he admitted, "Honestly, I'm happy. You're one of the only ones I've met who actually likes these."

"One of?" she echoed, not hesitating to accept the handshake.

"Bees."

"Oh." She wasn't sure whether to snort in amusement or be concerned, but he at least seemed casual about it. Would the honey taste like the actual flowers they come from, or would he have his own brand? What would Luka-brand honey even taste like?

"I really want to know what you're thinking about right now," Luka confessed, curious yet respectful, "but we can talk about it later if you want."

"Ah—okay!" Right, they were still mid-handshake and she'd just zoned out in the middle of it. No doubt he could tell that she was thinking about him.

She hurried to let go, certain that however long she'd been in her own head had been too long, but was met with resistance. She raised a brow at him, puzzled, and noticed his free hand going up to his hair. It was hard to see from the angle, but she noticed a white flower bloom, then detach from his hair. She'd presumed that he couldn't pluck the flowers himself or he wouldn't be here, yet there must've been some rule the flowers adhered to in order to come off painlessly.

Just another on the list of questions she wanted to ask him.

Luka smiled softly, breaking the handshake itself but still keeping hold of her hand. With his other hand, he settled the white flower inside and closed her fingers around it.

"It was nice meeting you, Marinette," he uttered, the warmth of his hands leaving her as he pulled back. With one last, fleeting look at her, he turned away and exited the building, his form disappearing as he headed down the sidewalk.

Marinette blinked, still standing stupidly in place. She'd could count on one hand how many flowers males and females alike had given her over her life, regardless of their meanings, but it was the first time someone had given her one they had literally grown themself.

Staring down at her hand, she uncurled her fingers to reveal the mystery flower: a daisy. New beginnings, her brain provided, though one sip of her tea later, she was already second-guessing herself. Or... was it love?

She blushed, unsure but not daring to dwell further on it at risk of zoning out for her entire workday. Regardless of its meaning, she was looking forward to getting to know him and that was that.

Ending her thoughts on it for the time being, she brought the daisy up to her lips and whispered against the petals, "...Nice meeting you too, Luka."

[solarmagickstar]

(4 photos image description coming up)

My Chaotic planner, I started using it yesterday, but I've been decorating it all last month. Got some planner pages on Etsy (ObsidianSirenShop) and printed them on my own designed background, don't know if I can share pics of those so I'm not gonna, but the shop is credited above. The inner back of the binder has my birth chart hidden in it (censored with giant vaporwave dolphins so you can't see the whole design unfortunately).

If it isn't already obvious I LOVE cinnamoroll and I couldn't not put him on here, he's ma boy and I love him. 🩵🩵🩵

I had a lot of fun making this and have 2 more planners on their way so I can my my Grimoire bigger (I have too many pages lmao)

Oh and I guess the only thing you can read on my birth chart is that I'm not a Gemini (like at all) lmao

(I hope that doesn't come back to astronomically destroy me, like some how you can figure out my birth chart or something but I think I'm just paranoid lmao.)

☀️✨☀️���🩵🧡🩵☀️✨☀️

Image description: four pictures of an A4 binder, front, back, back inside, front inside. There are stickers all over it consisting of: photo realistic planets and stars, various cinnamorolls (plushies dvds 3d renders and digital drawings), Stargender flag, windows old screensaver flowers, pixel sun, my pets, "my planer" in 2 different word art fonts, my music handle (day one) in word art font, golden wings, astrological star signs (they are censored on the back inside, it is laid out like my entire birth chart, so my signs are all censored by a vaporwave dolphin head. They are also censored on the front and back) album covers some of which are my own, 1 is ride on time by tatsuo Yamashita and 1 is Geno by Dexy's

Midnight Runners, Macintosh computers from before 2005 but after 1990, Macintosh logos from 2000s, windows 95-98 themed logos and interface elements (application windows for "Paint", "Photoshop", "Notes" and clippy asking if you need help. Various random vaporwave and y2k aesthetic shapes, Memphis cup pattern, a piano, a volts wagon bus, chaos magick symbols and a bunch of random shapes.

The binder itself: a light blue A4 binder made to look like a composition book, it's speckled with grey dots on the blue background, it's spine is black, it says nice day in an oval near the top and underneath it says "/DESIGN BY QUHE" and underneath that it says "Hope every day is as beautiful as today".

Near the bottom it has a drawing of a music player, backwards button, pause button, fast-forward button and underneath it it has the music progress bar 1/8 across front he left (like the song only just started)

And one amogus cinnamoroll

Edit: I'm an idiot, I didn't need to sensor my fucking sun sign cause that bitch is on my bio lmao ♌🤷🏾☀️ but it's on the front next to the sun in the top left corner :p

[eldritchaccident]

Timing: Around June 30th Location: Mephisto's Repository Feat: @escudofracturado & @eldritchaccident Warnings: none! Summary: Magic Milo visits the magic shop looking for some magic answers.

Mephisto’s Repository. As far as Milo could tell, after doing some googling on what exactly a repository is and then specifically what was the deal with this specific one, it was basically an antique shop. And one that claimed to be selling magical artifacts, no less. It could be a load of crap, but it was as good a start as any. 

He still had the damn thing, the chunk of black rock that had ruined his entire life. It had taken him a little bit to put together what had happened. Coming into contact with it for the first time, it was obvious it was extremely powerful. He had just figured that it had kind of overloaded his system with too much magical energy for him to control and that’s what had taken out the power in not just one, not even two, but three entire buildings. He had felt fucking awful afterward. Over the course of his training, he had magically overexerted himself a couple of times before then, but those instances had been nothing in comparison. 

He had it in his pocket, secured in the pouch it’d come with, as he made his way to the shop. There were all sorts of oddities in the window display, but stepping inside, Milo was a little overwhelmed by the assortment of items on display. There were shelves and tables full of various kinds of furniture and art, taxidermy animals, instruments, dolls, jewelry, gemstones, and more. He looked around, a little dazed, wondering if all of these items were truly imbued with some kind of magic. Was there something here with the same kind of power and capabilities as the stone? Was there something that could fix him?

—

It was decently rare that Teddy would end up the only person behind the counter at Mephisto’s, but hey, even other demons need time off too! Normally there would be a rotation and at least Ichabod, Henrietta, or Orville would be the second set of hands around, but very occasionally Teddy would have the whole of the shop to themself. At least for an hour or two. Orville was off getting lunch. Probably, he’d left like…. An hour ago? Maybe he wasn’t coming back for the day. Didn’t really matter. It was slow, Levi didn’t have any appointments, so it was mostly just tourists. And even then, it was a bit too early in the season for any real traffic. 

It’d been more than two hours since another soul waltzed through the front doors. Human or otherwise. The pleasant chime had Teddy practically springing from their comfortable seat behind the counter. Fairly graceful for how dead asleep their leg was. The demon was still subtly (not so subtly) wrapping their knuckles on their thigh in hopes of returning blood flow to the long and gangly limb as they sauntered around the counter. 

They gave the customer some space, of course, didn’t want to crowd someone as soon as they arrived. That wasn’t good manners or what have you. But Teddy did manage to sneak their way about. Checking displays and adjusting things to look busy as they got closer and closer. 

“Anything catching your eye?” Teddy called. Warm smile at the ready, heart open and hoping for a fun conversation. The kid looked… spooked. Which generally was a good thing with customers here. If there was a problem the Joneses could offer a solution. And while Leviathan took care of most of the bigger contracts, Teddy could certainly hold their own as a demon of the people. 

—

Milo had distantly registered the fact that there was an employee wandering around, but he had been too absorbed in his mind and his exploration of the store to really pay them any mind. Until they spoke up, that was. 

He jolted back into himself, blinking as he pulled himself out of his head. Turning, he found himself looking at a very friendly, very pretty looking individual with a white streak in their hair a la Rogue. His whole look was giving, and Milo was here for it. 

“Are these actually–” The words were out of his mouth before he could think about them. Dumbass. Yes, just casually ask about the legitimacy of these so-called magical objects. There was a little bit of that familiar prickling that came with channeling or being around powerful magic, but he did also have an incredibly powerful artifact of his own just chilling in his pocket, so that was absolutely messing with his senses. And these days he was scared to do anything with his magic, even if it wasn’t channeling or casting. 

Milo was hit with a wave of nerves as the realization of what he was here to do sank in. “I– um– I was just kinda looking,” he explained. “I actually wanted to see if you could check something out for me. If you guys do that sort of thing, I guess.” 

—

Something between a cheshire crescent and a curious smile crossed Teddy’s face. Twisted lips but no malice at all behind them. The young man stuck in a line of questioning most who crossed paths with a Jones artifact found themselves asking. Were they real? Of course. Were they actually magical? Of course. Though the amount certainly depended on which trinket you happened upon. 

It wasn’t a disservice to ask though. Teddy almost distrusted people who didn’t. Who took things like this at face value was to either put yourself in danger, or to callously disregard the work that went into authenticating them. Well, most of them. A few of the knicks and knacks were more or less just that. Wouldn’t give anyone a curse or blessing other than the placebo effect that permeated even the mundane items amongst the shelves. 

“Oh?” Well that certainly piqued the demon’s interest further. Leading them by the nose like a slinking snake, circling closer to the customer. Still gearing themselves with a cheerful disarming charm. Teddy’s smirk had slipped into an open beaming grin. Their eyes alight with intense need to know more. “That’s something we do, for sure. What have you got?” 

— 

They were friendly, but there was something about their smile that had Milo a little on edge. However, he was on edge to begin with, to be fair, and the employee was probably just doing their best customer service smile and trying to make a sale or something. There was just… something knowing in their smile. He didn’t know whether or not he should even be here. He was taking a risk, trusting this store, this employee, at their word, and there was a chance he would be putting someone out of the know in danger. But this town… maybe they did know. It’s why he came here to this town in the first place, after all. 

Taking a breath to calm the bundle of nerves in his stomach, Milo pulled out the pouch containing the stone and tipped it into his hand. It fit comfortably in the palm of his hand, roughly the size of an egg, but a deep inky black with a glassy shine to it. A shock ran through him as it made contact with his skin, setting his hair stand on end. It hadn’t had the same effect after he had touched it initially, but he still felt the immense power it contained. The magical energy ran up his arm, spreading over his body like an electric current just underneath the skin. 

Looking up at  the employee, Milo’s eyes were wide and glowing ever so slightly, though he wasn’t quite aware of it. “I got this a few months back, and I need to know what it is.” His voiced trembled, the buzz of nerves and magic combining with his desperation to make him sound like a scared kid. 

—

The young man produced a small rock. Rough cut, natural. Teddy’s mind went down a checklist of things Leviathan had always said to look out for. No one detail would rule something in or out, but added up they could mean a world of a difference. The demon peered into the dark glass like sheen. Deciding a closer look was necessary, but first they’d need protection. Never can be too careful with these things. 

They straightened (or at least as best they could, Teddy never stood quite perfectly unless a very enticing bit called for it) held up a finger. Universal sign for ‘one moment’. A quick hop back behind the counter and they returned with a pair of fine white gloves. As well as a few tools for appraisal. 

“May I?” 

— 

Milo watched as their face turned serious, looking down intently at the stone in his hand. His brows furrowed as they held up a finger and hopped over the counter. He wondered if this was a common occurrence in this place– studying real, powerful, magical objects. If not for his terrible experience with this one in particular, he might’ve been interested in working at a place like this. But now he was only well too aware of the dangers that would come with a job like that.

They returned with gloves and some sort of instruments, and he found himself feeling even more nervous. It felt a little wrong to hand it over to a stranger, even if that was his literal reason for coming here in the first place. They couldn’t exactly examine it if he didn’t give it to them, but still. He hated the damn thing for what it had done to him, but it had started all of this. It was integral to finding out how to fix it. After a moment of hesitation, Milo held it out for them to take. “Just… be careful. Don’t touch it.”

—

A soft chuckle slipped between Teddy’s firmly pressed lips. Curiosity winning out over any other emotion, as it often did. They weren’t a malicious demon, at least when they could help it. In fact, Teddy liked helping people more often than they probably should. Things like this were a puzzle waiting to be solved. Judging by the nervous state its owner was in, had to be a pretty interesting one at that. 

The stone was brought carefully as a newborn babe to a spot on the counter with a bit of better light, and a solid surface the demon could lay it down upon. Not without first splaying another cloth to help it sit still. From there, they got to work. They pulled out a simple loupe, one of the first and finest tools in researching any kind of gem or glass. Beneath the magnification the stone looked like an endless pool of black. It wasn’t opaque but it seemed to go on and on forever. Like you could get lost in the empty void just by staring. 

Next came the dichroscope, and the polariscope. Two other small handheld devices, though this time Teddy carefully placed a square of LED light below, hoping to pull anything other than that haunting black from the shard. When those failed to produce anything other than a sickly sense of vertigo Teddy placed the thing down with a sort of reverence. There was only one other place they had seen such complete and total darkness, at least on the surface and not fathoms below the waves. 

But they weren’t sure. 

“I have an idea, but–” The demon clicked their tongue, and suddenly wished it hadn’t been so empty in the shop. “But you might need to come back to see the boss, my dad. He’s got more knowledge on things like this than me.” They assumed. Teddy often assumed Leviathan knew just about everything, and was rarely proven wrong. “It’s a pretty powerful piece of something you’ve got there. Where’d you come across it?” 

—

He didn’t love the laugh at his caution, but maybe they really did deal with other magical artifacts. They did handle it very carefully as they took it over to the counter, Milo trailing behind them. He appreciated that they were looking at it in the open, nervous as he already was just handing it over, he probably would’ve felt even worse if they had to take it back into some, like, artificer workshop or something. It’s not that he didn’t trust them�� not that he did, he didn’t even know their name and, at this point, he was wary of this whole town– but he couldn’t let anyone else get hurt or caught up in this either. 

It was interesting to watch. Well, it’s not like it was exciting, but he had only seen appraisals like this in movies and shows or in the DnD game he had played with his friends and roommates. Milo leaned an arm on the counter, staring at them as they leaned over the stone and fiddled with their tools for several minutes. 

The look on their face as they finished up did nothing to calm his nerves, but it did make him feel like they knew something, and that was both exciting and disquieting in a way that made him feel nauseous. They had an idea?! “What– what idea? And do you know when your dad will be around?” It’s not like he was in a rush, but ideally the sooner he could figure this all out the better. He wasn’t sure he wanted to stick around this town for very long, though the idea of going back home wasn’t exactly appealing either. However, if he could see Luci before she went off to college, that would be nice. He… He would need to apologize to her. 

Before his thoughts could inevitably go down a dark road, the employee spoke again, drawing a humorless laugh out of Milo. Yeah, he unfortunately did. “Yeah. Found it at a random street fair back home– uh, New York. Was around Halloween, so there was a lot of ‘magical’ and ‘witchy’ stuff for sale.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still stuck in his head a little. “Lucky me,” he muttered, under his breath.

—

“Should be back around after the first week of July or so. Biiiiiig guy. Hard to miss.” This of course, did not cover the half of it. Leviathan’s personality preceded the body it strolled around in. “Wouldn’t wanna miss something like this, so, y’know. Better to wait.” Whatever this truly was. Teddy shifted the stone back and forth one last time before handing it back. Maybe it was a key to understanding the only other thing that held darkness closer than the vacuum of space, or the abyss of the ocean. 

The abnormality. 

Standard protocol was to avoid the giant mineral block as much as possible. Chuck didn’t want any of his employee’s messing with it, and Leviathan certainly didn’t want its ward fuckin around either. But that didn’t mean Ted couldn’t try to unlock some of its answers. Didn’t mean they couldn’t find someone else to do the poking. Information came at a premium, especially when considering things as big as the abnormality. 

“I know a cliffhanger sucks, but I don’t think I want to go giving you ideas before I’m a hundred percent sure. Okay? I’m Teddy by the way.” They offered a bright and genuine smile, trying to soothe the frayed edges of this kid’s mind. His whole body seemed to be a nervous system. “Ask for the boss and say I sent you. We’ll try and figure this out together, alright?” 

— 

Shit. Milo would have to wait, then. Wouldn’t wanna miss something like this. It appeared they were at least somewhat aware of the fact that the stone held a massive amount of power, then. It also made him curious about what kind of people this father-son duo were. A giant man who was good at identifying magical objects and his cheery kid with X-men hair and excellent style. Did they have magic of their own? How did a person even get into the business of collecting and selling magical artifacts anyway? Some of his anxiety dissipated once the stone was back in his hands and he was able to put it away. 

He tried to suppress his sigh at Teddy’s words. Milo could understand where they were coming from, giving him the wrong information wouldn’t be helpful, but he hated this. All of this, the whole situation he had found himself in because of this stupid fucking rock. It was bullshit! It wasn’t fair. Gen hadn’t– He sucked in a breath and held it, feeling the rush of emotions dull as his awareness drifted somewhere up and slightly to his right. He closed his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to Teddy. 

“I get it.” His voice sounded a little more flat than it had moments earlier. “Milo,” he replied, flashing them a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. Teddy had a nice smile, and while he couldn’t exactly feel it right now, he knew he was grateful for their reassurance, even if it was just a platitude, and they didn’t know what had happened. “Thanks, Teddy,” he grinned. That one was more convincing. “Appreciate it.” And he did, even if it hadn’t exactly turned out the way he had hoped.

—

Teddy said their goodbyes and ushered the kid out the door with a gentle smile. Memorizing the name and the face it was attached to. Something about him was different. Teddy liked different. This town was full of it. Whether or not Milo did was a different story altogether. People who came to Mephisto’s often wanted a soft bandage. An easy fix to problems they thought came from one thing or another. More often than not, it wasn’t a curse that was ruining someone’s life, but something innate. 

The stone didn’t seem cursed. At least, not in the intentional way many of the objects littered around the store were. It was something older, or at least more powerful, in a primordial sort of way. Reminded Teddy of the power they brushed against whenever they healed from a particularly nasty wound. Of rituals cast alongside Leviathan. It’s ancient energy irradiating everything it touched with that distant thrum. 

A low bell chimed, the back door opening as Teddy continued to stare out at the now-empty path the boy had taken. A disinterested voice called from the staff room, asking the demon out front if they’d seen anything interesting. With a smirk, Teddy turned to go about their business replying only with;

“You could say that.”  

[mark-of-chrysus]

#20

"Jesus..."

"Actually, It's Daniel."

Zack craned his neck to look at the tiny figure sitting atop the - frankly massive - pile of bodies. He had stumbled upon the sight on accident and frozen in shock, mouth agape. If he looked more closely all the bodies seemed to belong to well-built muscly men who, judging by the various bats and DIY weapons strewn on the ground, had been armed. This was no accident, but a coordinated attack that had been thwarted by...by a toddler?

"Uhh..." Zack said, ever so eloquently.

The midget turned around a did a backflip (and almost gave the boxer a heart attack in the process), landing in front of him with a large toothy smile. Now that they were standing next to each other he seemed even smaller, no way older than 5, Zack noted after he stopped gaping. He wore what looked like an old yellow t-shirt with a smiling cat, splatters of blood clear on the thin fabric, and a pair of brown cargo shorts. In the middle of December, at night.

Zack resisted the urge to voice some choice words about the kid's parents as another freezing wind cut through his own thick winter coat. He kneeled to be on eye level with the smiling little menace and extended his hand, deliberately slowly not to spook him.

"I'm Zack."

"Oooh, nice to meet you!" Daniel shook his hand eagerly.

'Yep, his hands are freezing', Zack thought bitterly, looking around for his guardian or someone that could resemble a responsible adult. He found none. The alleyway they were in was pretty out of the way, not a place where a child should be, although... judging by the piled gangsters behind him he could handle himself. A bead of sweat rolled down the boxer's cheek, 'Not even I could beat so many at the same time' and wasn't that saying something? Even after being trained by that monk, Gongseob Ji, there were still people who were stronger than him without even trying.

"Achoo!"

That broke him out of his thoughts, and he wasted no more time in unzipping his coat and scooping the child in his arms, before rezipping the coat with the midget's head poking out. Uncaring of what he must've looked like [*cough* pregnant *cough*] Zack got back up and began walking out of the alleyway.

"We're going to get you something warm to eat and then we can try to figure this whole thing out, mkay?"

The midget nodded his head furiously and gave him another blinding smile before settling on his chest like a happy cat. Neither spoke until they finally found an open convenience store. By the time they got what they wanted to eat and sat down in the little eating area of the shop it had begun snowing heavily. Zack put the kid on one of the stools, with his coat still wrapped around him before opening the two cups of instant noodles and pulling out the little bags of condiments. He kept an eye on Daniel as he moved to pour warm water from the dispenser. To his credit, the little one waited patiently, swinging his legs in the air, his eyes glued on the taller male as he prepared their meal.

"So, where are your folks, midget?" Zack asked as they waited for the noodles, trying to keep his tone light.

In spite of his efforts, the boy curled in on himself, his eyes dimming. 'Sore spot, then' he thought, making a mental note to avoid bringing it up again. He couldn't imagine anyone willingly abandoning this ray of sunlight of a child, so he assumed they must've been dead. 'Yes, that's the only explanation' Zack nodded to himself, before addressing Daniel again.

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

The kid nodded eagerly, but the boxer still had his reservations.

"Let me rephrase that, do you have anywhere to spend the night that you know you can reach and where you won't freeze to death?"

"Uhh."

"Right, so that's a no. Great!" Zack rubbed his forehead tiredly.

He pulled the top packaging off the cups of noodles and broke apart a pair of chopsticks mixing them into the steaming meal before handing it to the midget and doing the same for his own cup.

"Ah, thank you!" Daniel chirped before digging in like a starved child.

'He probably was' he thought bitterly, swallowing a mouthful of noodles. For a few minutes, all you could hear was the sound of them eating, but soon enough the boy pushed away his empty cup. Once more, Zack didn't hesitate or even find it weird how his arms moved on their own to place a small packet of chocolate biscuits in front of the kid's nose.

"Eat up, midget." he encouraged, cringing at how sappy he sounded. "Those aren't going to eat themselves."

'Damn it, why am I acting like this?!' The older boy bemoaned mentally, thankful that none of the people who knew him were here to witness how fucking soft this little menace was making him. After finishing his noodles Zack got up to throw the two cups away when he felt a tug on his sweater. Looking down he found an impossibly large pair of doe-like black eyes gazing uncertainly up at him.

'Ah, my heart!' he mentally clutched his heart which had been pierced by an arrow marked "CUTENESS".

"I'm just going to throw these away!" He quickly reassured the little one, gesturing towards the two empty cups in his hand.

"Are you going to come back?" Daniel asked in a small voice which nearly made the boxer kneel over.

"Of course! Of course! I'll be right back!" Zack assured before nearly sprinting to the trashcan and back, to the bewilderment of the cashier.

"See, right back!"

Daniel hummed happily in agreement with a big smile that made him ponder the benefits of having a pair of sunglasses always on hand. he would probably need a pair if he didn't want to go blind from this unbearably bright ray of sunshine. 'How has no one kidnapped him yet?' Zack wondered, sparking a flame of protectiveness in his chest.

You know how you hear people say that they see something, usually a small child or an animal, and go 'yeah, that's mine now'? That was exactly what happened at that exact moment in Zack The Wimp Lee.

Did it raise questions the next day when he showed up to fight with a toddler on his shoulders? Maybe. Did he care? Absolutely not. He kicked names and took ass looking like an absolute badass and a brilliant model for his new little brother. The highlight of his day was when some random extra tried to hit Daniel as a way of getting back at Zack and got promptly locked through a brick wall by a giggly 5-year-old waving around a purple dinosaur plush in one hand and a blueberry popsicle in the other. The looks on everyone's faces had been enough to make his week.

[russica]

For all his bluster, Rolan feels his tail twitching nervously, his palms are damp as he wipes them against his robe. He's talked to Tav before, hells, they've seen him at his very worst. How bad could asking them out to dinner go? Rolan's mind helpfully brings to the forefront all the ways this could go disastrous. Tav could laugh, could spurn him, worse, could never want to see him again.

He doesn't have much time to think when a familiar voice cuts through the murmur in the shop. Rolan's head shoots up to see Tav waving from across the way. He can't do this. Look at them. They’re... they're the damn Hero of Baldur's Gate, and he's a tiefling who got lucky. For once, his ego has jumped ship, none of the usual confidence or bravado as his tail flicks anxiously. When Tav stands in front of him, he doesn't hear a word through his own self-doubt echoing around. Only when Tav gives him a concerned little smile does he realize he missed everything just said to him.

"Apologies, I appear to be rather distracted as of date- late! As of late-"

His face heats, and he thanks the gods that his red skin hides the worst of his blushing. Tav chuckles softly, amusement twinkling in their eyes. They're after some books and scrolls. They're in a rush but have a list if Rolan doesn't care to oblige. Rolan takes the small scroll of parchment, his fingers brushing theirs sends a tingle of electricity up his arm. Tav offers to meet at Elfsong later, and Rolan agrees with at least a semblance of his usual confidence. If he can't ask them out, the least he can do is this.

The Elfsong is crowded, but Lakrissa directs Rolan to the rooftop with a wink and a nudge. On the rooftop, Tav is sat on some cushions while someone, probably Alfira, strums a light tune from somewhere nearby. Rolan swallows any nerves he has and approaches Tav. He found everything on their list, even the rare scrolls they needed. Tav invites him to sit, and when he does, a glass of wine is pressed onto his hand. As Tav sips their drink, they give him that weird sideways smile that seems to be reserved for him. He takes a large gulp of the wine for courage.

Tav asks him about his day and, when Rolan falters, asks about his new studies. The dam opens, and Rolan is suddenly in his element; he talks at length about what he's found, the magic he's learned in the months since taking over. He gesticulates and goes on at length; only when he realizes just how long he'd monologued does he clamp his mouth shut in embarrassment. Tav is watching, enthralled and interested, wine glass forgotten as they lean forward eagerly. They encourage him to go on, to tell them more. So he does. He talks at length on the various things he's been studying, the hassles of running the Tower, the idiots in the shop. He hardly notices someone, Lakrissa, most likely, delivering them food until Tav presses a spoon into his hand. They talk through the meal, Tav genuinely interested in Rolan, his studies, and his family. Only when the music dies down and the night is well on does Rolan realize how long they'd been sitting together talking. Good food and better company made it hard to end the night.

Tav walked him back to the Tower. The whole time spent laughing and chatting. If their hands or arms brushed as they walked, or Rolan's tail smacked lovingly against Tav's leg, well, neither said anything. When they arrived, Rolan was disappointed at how short a walk it had seemed. As they bid good night, to his utter shock, Tav takes his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Tav offers that familiar little smile and Rolan's heart pounds.

"Next time, I expect you to plan the date."

Rolan could faint. His tail swishes behind him like a dumb lovesteuck fool, but he puts on a bold smile and promises Tav a night to remember. He's hopelessly enamored with them, but, after all, he's always been good at embracing hopelessness.

there’s something delightfully angsty thinking about rolan, trying and failing to cope with his (seemingly) unrequited feelings for tav.

there’s this person, this hero, who has a magnetic attraction or second sense for whenever rolan is experiencing despair. they swoop in and play a first-hand witness to every godawful moment in his life. from keeping them from leaving the grove and perishing on the road, to finding him drunk off his ass at last light, to walking into sorceries sundries and blatantly questioning the bruises on his face.

worst off, they do everything in their power to fix it: they keep him and his siblings together, they save his only family from the depths of moonlight towers and his own ass from the shadowlands, and then beat up his abusive master and hand him an Archmage’s title on a silver platter.

by act 3 of baldur’s gate he owes all his success to this person he can only mentally rectify as his personal guardian angel. he has his life, his family, and he’s living his lifelong dream thanks to them. they’ve seen him at his worse and they did everything in their power to help him anyways, and what does he get?

an ego that died a quiet death somewhere in the shadowlands, that got buried under Lorroakan’s boot heel. a tower and a magic canon that, gods help him, may help him find a way to repay a single iota of the multiple life debts he owes his hero. memories of his mistreatment of them along the road to baldur’s gate.

and these feelings, these godsawful feelings he can’t bring himself to put a name to. a longing so great it hurts, admiration so deep it he hasn’t found the depths of it, a love so great it scares him, so desperate it has him making awkward, stilted jokes about being friends, pledging his help to fight a literal netherbrain, jokingly (not jokingly) referring to himself as the dashing master - trying and failing to endear himself to his seemingly-insane savior while they prance about in a party full of insanely attractive bachelors, all gunning for their attention.

he knows he can’t compare, after how he treated them. he just doesn’t measure up. they’ve seen him at his worst and he can’t be loved by someone like them, after that, but-

his grumpy little jokes always earn him that weird little sideways smile, and it sends his heart a-fluttering.

so he’s going to try.

he’s always been good at embracing hopelessness, anyways

[nivitx]

The Yoga Class

“Are you sure you’ve got the recording right?” asked the middle-aged Indian guru. “Yes, it has been extrapolated from your brainwaves,” replied the neurologist. “I have adjusted the psi element. It’s clearly audible now.” “Very well then. I’m going to put it on during my next class, and we shall see what happens.” * Meditation. You never know how much the whole world hates you until you try it. And it’s always reserved for the last fifteen minutes of the class. Some people like it. Some people love it. Not me. I find it hard to stand still even for one minute. I’m a dynamic person. Or so I thought until recently when I realized I was getting overweight. My type of work and my lifestyle didn’t help me stay physically active. Then my cholesterol went up, and my heart began to have bad days. When things got worse, of course, I went to see a doctor and, at his recommendation, ended up here. Well, he didn’t exactly recommend yoga, but this place was by far the most conveniently located: only five minutes of driving, with a large shopping mall nearby. Also, the time of the classes harmonized well with my own work schedule. It wasn’t expensive, either. I’ve been coming here for more than a month and have to agree: there are some positive results. My waist has shrunk by a couple of inches. I also sleep better. The chest pain is almost gone. Most of the class is not bad, and the Indian guru is a good teacher. During class, we keep switching among various positions, or asanas (that’s how the yogi call them), maintaining each one for several seconds. This improves blood circulation, stamina, endurance, and flexibility without putting too much stress on a weakened heart like mine. It’s the perfect complement to the daily pills prescribed by the doc. Everything is fine until we get to the seated meditation in padmasana, the lotus position. And now we have just come to that part again. I can hear the master’s soft voice coming from the front of the class: “Relax, breathe slowly. Close your eyes and let your mind expand. Let it become one with the Universe, let it understand that you are one with the Universe.” Stretched in a half-lotus stance, as the full one looks way beyond what my joints could ever accept in matters of torture, I’m trying to follow his advice. I’ve closed my eyes but still can see him in my mind, seated comfortably in a full lotus position in front of the class, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I bet he could even sleep like that. Continues here: https://mcghilea.wordpress.com/2022/09/02/the-yoga-class/

(c) Marian C. Ghilea, 2019

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Live In Nanny

Villain!All Might x Reader

All Might raising baby Deku but is in desperate need of a nanny. 

TW: Yandere themes, breeding kink (our villain is ready to make the reader a mommy), dub con 

AN: literally just took Hero All Might and flipped him upside down. So baseline form is big buff boi and villain form is lanky but retains the strength.

Single father with a nine month old child, seeking live in nanny services. Negotiable pay. Negotiable time off/vacation days.

Toshinori was impressed with your interview. You had over 8 years of experience working with children between babysitting and working at a day care. Plus Izuku took to you immediately. It was just a bonus that you were easy on the eyes.

You agreed to begin immediately, trying not to let on that you were in desperate need of money and a place to stay. You didn't have much to move in. And, in comparison to the huge room you had been given, it seemed like you owned even less. You figured your new boss must get paid well. His house was huge, the largest you'd ever been in.

Your room was next to baby Izuku's. Settling in to a routine with the baby was easy. You weren't sure exactly what your employer did for a living, his schedule was sporadic, he would be in and out throughout the day. Whenever he was available he would stop by to love on the infant. It was clear that he was doing his best as a single parent, but house keeping wasn't his strong suit. You tried your best to help out with the chores and grocery shopping, after all he was paying you graciously and giving you a roof over your head.

The only bump in the road so far has been getting Toshinori's permission to take the little one on walks through the nearby park. According to the father, errands were one thing but what was the point of going to park? Izuku can't even walk, there wouldn't be any benefit. Eventually you convinced him, after rambling about how good it is for babies to be exposed to different levels of stimulation. You could show Izuku the ducks and dogs, plus he could see all the pretty spring time flowers.

The older man was worried, he feared that his child, and you for that matter, would be targeted by his enemies. Plenty of low life's would love to make a move against the notorious villain. But you wore down his resolve. So long as you would tell him before you went. Thankfully he could play it off as being a bit of a helicopter dad. He always has a spare crony he could send out there to watch over you two.

---

"What are you both doing," your bosses laugh filled the air.

You were in a very flattering position, palms on the floor stretching through your hips, ass hiked up with a tempting arch to your back. Then you pushed yourself forward, giving the giggling baby raspberries before returning to your original position.

"Baby yoga!" You smiled, oblivious to the growing bulge in the villains pants. "Right now we're doing downward facing dog and cobra."

He watched you cycle through the motions, hypnotized by your movements.

You took such good care of him and his baby. Ever since you got here you went above and beyond (very plus ultra of you). You even packed his meals to go when he had to rush off to a job. And you did it all with a smile and his kid bouncing away at your feet. The man allowed his mind to drift to the thought of you with his babies, Izuku on your hip and your round belly ready to pop.

You made an amazing nanny but you would make an even better housewife.

---

It wasn't until a week after Izuku's birthday that you learned about your bosses occupation. You were at the park and a stranger approached you to coo over Izuku.

"Such a little cutie, this is Toshi's kid, right?"

That caught you off guard, how did this person know Toshinori? You knew he was a protective dad and there something about this woman felt off.

"Well, either way, this is for you," she smiled as she passed you a manila envelope. "A little birdie wants you to have it."

You skeptically eyed the parcel as the woman disappeared through the park. You shoved it into Izuku's diaper bag before rushing back home.

You decided to peek into the envelope after settling 'Zuku down for the night. You curled onto the chair in his nursery, using his nightlight too sift through the documents. Various photos of Toshinori, your employer, amongst high profile criminals. Photos of the most terrifying villain among his infamous exploits. And finally a piece of paper with a single web address and access code. This was the most damning piece of evidence, All Might - the villain himself - joking amongst his companions before transforming into the man you knew as Izuku's father. Without this video you would have never even guessed. All Might was known for his unassuming nature, his slender frame concealing his god-like strength. Still he looked terrifying, like make children cry type terrifying. Toshinori on the other hand was massive but his sunny attitude made him approachable. For all these months you had been working for a criminal. A criminal with a child. You had been living with him, laughing and raising a baby, taking care of him and his family. Oh god, your late night fantasies of your boss, a total DILF, were fantasies of a sadistic monster.

The betrayal and shame brought you to tears. You should call the cops. Take Izuku far away from this place, from being exposed to his fathers atrocities. But you were torn, he was a good dad, he always put his son first and provided him with only the best. He would tear the world apart for Izuku even if he had to put a target on your back. You shook as you muffled your cries, trying not to wake the baby you cared so much for. Eventually you wrote yourself out, falling asleep in the nursery.

By the time Toshinori made it home it was close to two in the morning. As usual he tip toed into his sons room, shocked to find you curled up in the rocker asleep. He was quiet, surprisingly more so than in his slender form. As you made his way to wake you he was surprised to see your phone still unlocked, you had fallen to sleep with that video on loop. Underneath your phone was the envelope, he didn't need to look to know what was inside. He hadn’t woken either of you, managing to shut off your phone and pick you up with or so much as a peep. He decided rather quickly that he would wait for you to make the first move. At least in the mean time he could pretend you didn't care about his lifestyle and that you wouldn't try to leave him or his son.

"Toshinori," you mumbled as he was about to settle you into your bed. You were half asleep and groggy from crying.

"Go back to sleep, darling, it's late," he paused to sway with you, just like he did when putting down 'Zuku for a nap. He was shocked that it worked and finally escaped your room. You let him lull you back to sleep, further affirming his belief that you would stay.

---

The next morning you creeped downstairs. Izuku wasn't in his crib, meaning Toshinori was him. You found them both in the kitchen. The sight of the pair would usually warm your body but now shivers radiated down your spine.

"Look who's up, buddy, say good morning," he bounced the child, beaming like the happiest father.

Taking a deep breath you decided to rip off the band aid. "Mr Toshinori, I have to resign."

His pause was so long you wondered if he heard you.

"Did the video upset her that much, Zuzu?"

He looked at you with the same warmth he always did. "There's no need to be formal, you were fine calling me Toshi just the other day. Take a seat, I made pancakes, just like you like'em."

You complied, his unchanged demeanor intimidating you into submission.

"There's no need for you to quit," he started. "Nothing has changed aside from your level of awareness."

"I can't work for you knowing that you hurt people."

At that his smile faltered, "Darling, if you truly felt that way, you wouldn't be here. You would've slipped out early this morning."

You were silent. He was right, in a way. Trapped between what was right and what was best for Izuku. You'd never be able to do anything about your boss's criminal activity, even if you did and All Might was locked away, Izuku would suffer the most.

"Give yourself a few days to adjust, okay? If you still want to quit after that, we can reassess."

There's was a glint in his eyes that hinted he wasn't asking.

---

"I'll be back this evening," Toshinori told you a as he kissed Izuku's forehead. He was uncomfortably close as he returned the baby to your lap. "There's plenty of groceries so you don't need to go out today. I have a coworker out front, so don’t worry if you see someone outside."

"What are they doing?"

He placed a hand on the top of your hair, petting you like some cat.

"He'll just keep an eye on things. I need someone to make sure you stay put."

---

A week flew by with your employer pushing off the discussion of your resignation. He wouldn’t leave you unsupervised so just walking away wasn’t an option, besides could you really leave Izuku? 

Then the child came down with some type of bug and was absolutely miserable for several days. You couldn’t get much sleep as a result, even if his father was home for most of the day. 

---

Izuku finally fell asleep around three in the morning. You napped beside his crib out of fear he would wake up if you so much as changed positions.

Then you woke in Toshi's arms as he carried you down the hall.

"Where are we going," You whined, anxious to be away from the child.

"I told you to rest, instead I find you in the nursery."

"'Zuku is sick-"

"But he's asleep, there are baby monitors, not that he won't wake the whole city up with his cries. You've been up for nearly two days with him, time for bed."

But he wasn't taking you to your room. Instead he dropped you on to his bed.

"What are you doing?" You snapped.

"I don't need you sneaking back. I can keep an eye on you here. I'll take care of him if he starts crying." He rolled in next to you.

The bed was huge but so was your boss. "Stop wiggling."

"Well I can't get comfortable."

“Fine,” he said and pulled you into him, “now stop it and get some sleep.”

You burned with embarrassment, turning silent after several attempts at protest. Just as you began to drift off, Toshinori's hand moved to beneath your shorts. You shut your eyes, pretending not to notice. He probably didn't even realize what he was doing. Then his fingers grazed the spot where your skin met your panties.

"I know you aren't asleep yet, darling."

You didn't respond, opting to keep up the façade.

"Mmm, are we playing pretend? I don't mind."

You gasped, pushing at his hand, "I'm trying to sleep."

"I can see that," he chuckled. "I'm just helping you wear yourself out. You've been taking such good care of the baby, let me return the favor."

He jerked your hips, pressing you tightly against his bulge.

"You've been such a good mommy."

God the way you could feel your body responding made you hate that he was a villain.

"'M not-" You gasped as he did his fingers into your thighs. "His mom."

"You sure about that? I know how much you care about him. Always rushing to him when he’s cranky, never taking any days off. You make sure he's a happy little baby and you take such good care of his daddy. Isn't that's what mommies do?"

A moan slipped through your lips, "Stop."

"Are you sure? It seems like your having such a good time," he teased, sliding his hand to find your wetness.

Your body jerked involuntarily. He wasted no time tearing off your layers. Your determination quickly fading.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you," he pushed a finger in to your warmth.

You shivered at the sensation. Before you could register his actions there was another digit. He skillfully maneuvered his fingers to prep walls.

"What a tight like cunt," The man cooed. "So perfect and pretty. Just waiting for me to claim."

You gasped as he curled his fingers in you. Tears of pleasure pricking your eyes.

"Atta girl, I think you're ready to take daddy's cock."

You shouldn't be surprised when you saw how absolutely hung your boss is. There was no way the whole thing would fit inside of you.

Without hesitation All Might slowly began to press inside of you. The head of his cock already made it feel like you were tearing.

"Wait wait wait," You cried. "Too big."

He paused, reassuring you, "I know you can do it baby. You're okay."

You shook your head violently.

With a sloppy squelch he withdrew. He disappeared momentarily, give you much need time to breathe. Then he was back and you felt a cool, slick fluid rub against you. He applied a generous amount of lube knowing full well that if he played his cards right you'd happily be his forever.

Regardless there was still a painful pressure as he forced himself deeper.

"You're doing so good, taking me so well."

He was slowly increasing the speed off his hips. All you could manage was incoherent whines as his momentum bounced you back and forth.

"Toshi, Toshi," You panted.

"I don't think so baby girl," he slapped your thigh. "You know what I want to hear."

You couldn't be rational, not when he was pounding into you. All you knew was pleasure in this moment. How could you not give the man what he wanted when he was fucking you dumb.

"Mmm daddy, hurts so good."

"Ah- fuck yeah. I knew you were a little pain slut. You want me to fuck you like a whore and then treat you like my little princess?"

You nodded, gasping for air.

"You've been such a good little mommy, I think you deserve this little treat huh?"

You didn't respond, stubbornly refusing to tell the man what he was desperate to hear.

He shifted to a painfully slow pace as he would pull almost completely out just to slam back into your abused whole.

"And here I thought you wanted to cum, I can always stop here, finish myself later-"

"No! No no no, don't stop."

"Then repeat after me: I'm such a good mommy."

As you stayed silent until he began to move at a snails pace. So close to losing your high.

"O-kay, okay, I-I've been a good mom-mommy," You cried tried to buck against the giant.

And just like that your boss was pushing you back to the edge of an orgasm. You were sobbing from pleasure and frustration.

"I know,” He growled. “Fucking good girl, taking care of our baby while daddy's working. You're gonna look so pretty knocked up. All glowing and swollen. Bet your tits are gonna look so pretty when they get full. Gotta keep you stuffed with my cum so our little boy can have a sibling."

[rooigseix]

1. Ah okay I do forget for a moment that yes to acquire a gun we need legal registration. I tend to forget that part, because this is basically a magical girl show with magical rainbow flame weapons and also a mafia-based setting that somehow got teenagers and a child bringing tons of dynamite and bombs with them around the town, so legal registration to acquire firearms just flew over my head.

But yeah, if we go down the path that Makoto acquired the firearm like a normal not-KHR logic, then it will take only a day max to track him out, even given that he didn’t acquire a gun in a normal shop but black market shop.

Still, I don’t think he is just “some art dealer”. As right after that when seeing the Flood of Blood incident with Makoto’s bullet on the screen, Iemitsu “removed” them. Why would he hide such important proof for a case, a case when his own subordinates were killed, if Makoto is just “some art dealer”? There is absolutely no reason for Iemitsu knowing that, especially when he is not behind the whole Kozato’s massacre. Like if he is truly behind that we can deduce that Iemitsu removes Makoto’s bullets to investigate on his own and then personally takes revenge on the Kozato family, but Iemitsu DID NOT kill the Kozato. So why would Iemitsu remove Makoto’s bullet on the screen here, if Makoto is just “some art dealer”?

Okay above is totally my delusional thought over the history, please ignore it? But yeah it definitely shows that Makoto is travelling around.

2. While I agree with you that there is a time when Simon members leave the island, I however do not agree that the island is abandoned any time. Abandoned for the bigger part of the island, yes. But in chapter 309 and 314, the Simon 10th family is shown to stay in a pretty decent house if not even saying extravagant with the furniture. Not to mention how in such good condition the underground castle showed to be. So I don’t think Simon just leaves the island and once in a while comes back to check up on Primo's grave. I think there are still some members staying on the island in regard the still-good condition of some households on the island.

On this topic, the rings are in the grave, however it is shown in manga that acquiring the ring is NOT the only way to decide the next boss of a family. Only Vongola is shown with this tradition. Cavallone doesn’t, Giglo Nero using a pacifier (and actually the pacifier is more like transfering the curse to the next kid than accepting them as a boss). Vongola rings are also THE ONLY RING WERE SHOWED that has the blood seal aka DNA test and the ring trial to disprove of the next boss. So no, by the story ring is maybe a means to decide the next boss of the family, but it is not THE ONLY way to decide the next boss. So Simon can go full CEDEF-way and picks the next boss through human choosing.

Really the first and foremost use of the ring (with no DNA test like Vongola rings) is to be the symbol of power aka showcase who is the boss of the family to the outsiders, which, very depend on whether the family or the boss wanting to show to the world this is the person in charge or not. (Frankly with how Enma debut walking behind Adel and hides the ring under his shirt, I’m very doubt he has the want to show to the world he is in power)

About Simon family adults having “unfortunate accidents”, the only thing I can agree on is that Vongola doesn’t know about Simon's situation. But no I don’t think Simon is persecuted WITHOUT the intention of harm. By Vongola allies or by Daemon hand or not, they are absolutely being treated with harm intention. It is shown in Aoba and Rauji’s flashback, Aoba carries Enma with various injuries when they are both children and Rauji literally got his parents die in front of him. I don’t think any treatment, having no intention of harm whatsoever, can orphaned up to 7 children. I don’t put all the blame on Vongola allies because maybe Daemon is behind it, but no you can’t kill all the adults of a family and leave 7 orphans behind then say there is no malice behind my action.

And really we are talking about Nono and the Vongola 9th. No offense here, but this is the same ceremony holder that literally doesn’t interfere a bit when the Simon BOSS is beaten up RIGHT IN their ceremony. Imagine you are a party holder and your guest punches another person which is also your guest, you literally HAVE THE RESPONSIBILITY to interfere or having a guard interfere in. But no, no one from the current family stepped in and the matter is only dealt with by Tsuna. Tsuna temporarily has no relation with the current Vongola family. So no the only information brought by the Vongola 9th that is valuable here is how Simon 10th gen are all orphans. If Vongola 9th doesn’t even interfere with an outright banter right in their ceremony, then no their word of concluding “there is no intention of harm” or “there is no persecution” is not counted here. Because technically they KNOW NOTHING, if not even more bluntly and cruelly saying that they deliberately ignore the situation until there is a mess happened. I have nothing against Vongola 9th but I absolutely do not trust their attitude over Simon matter especially after the ceremony event.

About Simon doesn’t operate in a normal mafia famiglia way, well, I agree. But I don’t think passing the title of boss is not a big deal for them. Judging how the 10th gen treats Enma, yes Aoba calls him weak, yes Julie (Daemon) calls him pathetic, yes Adel scolds him, but not a single one time they outright disrespect his title if not saying they respect the Simon Decimo title. Rauji literally calls him a good boss (better than Tsuna), Shitt.P feels gratitude that she is a member of Simon after Enma trying to save her from Vindice, Adel absolutely trusts in Enma’s duty to fight as a boss. If passing the title is not a big deal for the Simon, really, Adel would be the boss of the family here, not Enma. But no everyone needs to wait for Enma’s resolution to take down Vongola to act (hence the letter scene) and Adel has to persuade Enma into testing Tsuna instead of disregarding his concern over not wanting revenge. Really the letter scene shows it well, yes the Simon operates in a very chaotic way, yes there is even someone else not owning the Earth element yet appear so leader-ly and is considered the heart of the family, but Enma is the one with the final say in the important matter regarding the family. So technically the boss title is still a respectable title here, which makes the matter of passing it down to WHO is also an important matter.

3. And yeah the most obvious bet is Giotto named Vongola after the Vongola rings and Sepira sees the future and likes his characteristics so she chooses him. The Primo time is basically bare land, bug in a jar waiting to be shaken and examined.

I love digging into the mafia part of the KHR especially the Simon since I love them so much, so yeah very hope here I don’t come off as too much or rude over the matter. And I also make grammar errors too so I hope my point can be understood well.

And well lastly just a small penny for headcanon: I think there are two possible paths to explain why Cozzato names his family Simon, not Cozzato. Before going into that we need to take into account that there IS ALREADY an Cozzato family, as stated by Giotto that he heard about Cozzato people from his “grandpa”. So there are two possibilities why Cozzato named his family Simon rather than Cozzato:

- First case is Cozzato family is just a normal family, so when Cozzato suggests Giotto to form a vigilante band and later becomes a mafia himself, he names his mafia family Simon to avoid enemies targeting his Cozzato blood family.

- Second case, if Cozzato is a MAFIA family, it would bring up the topic that there is a very high possibility Simon Cozzato DOESN’T HAVE A GOOD RELATIONSHIP with his family. Because if he has, there is absolutely no reason for him to say “there is no one helping us” and suggests Giotto to form a vigilante band in the second memory. If he has a good relationship with his mafia family he would have his own man or at least protector who can take care of matters under his command, so no if the Cozzato family is a mafia family Simon Cozzato is highly not on a good term with them. So it would not be weird when forming his own family he will not want to have anything to do with them and name the family differently.

Thank you for reading up until now.

Them: "What are you thinking about?"

Me: "Well, there's the Simon family, right? It's very much implied that all of them are related somehow, since they lived enclosed in a goddamn island, there shouldn't have been all that much DNA exchange there. Also, it's stated that Enma's guardians are also childhood friends of Enma who have lived through a similar traumatizing experience. PLUS, in most official arts of the Simon guardians all of them have red eyes but only Enma has the crosses which confirms that he's 100% a descendent of Simon Cozzato but then... Enma is Simon 10th, although his father wasn't the boss and the family as a famiglia had kind of stopped existing for a while. So, how the fuck is Enma the 10th boss? How big was Simon's actual family that they could populate an entire island?"

Them: "Err—"

Me: "But sure, whatever. THe most pressing thing is, Simon Cozzato named the Simon family after himself. I'm pretty sure Simon was his first name, and Cozzato his surname. Though Amano makes the unfortunate choice of writing his name as シモン＝コザァート, I'm just going to assume that = is just another way of writing ・ which is what's usually used to separate foreign names. Also, Cozzato being his surname explains how Enma would end up being Kozato, names evolve and all of that. This is all very understandable, right?"

Them: "Uhm—"

Me: "But then this BEGS the question of, WHY DID GIOTTO NAME HIS FAMILY VONGOLA? wHAT WAS THE MAN THINKING?!"

To this day, KHR plotholes remain holes.

[denim-mixtapes]

Anonymous asked:

hi! I was wondering if i could request a drabble for Eddie with the prompts "A and B playing with C’s hair while C is in between the middle of them" + "associating random things with them" ?

just cuddling and showing each other things that remind them of you is so wholesome to me- if not that's perfectly fine! your writing is amazing and i love it <3

(If you take emoji anons could i be 🖤?)

Title: Pieces of You Pairing: Eddie Munson/GN!Reader Word Count: 763

Smoke burns your nostrils as you zone out on the bonfire in front of you, your fingers tangled in your boyfriend's hair and a pleasant wine cooler buzz coursing through you. 

After arriving at the party, you pulled one of the Harrington’s pool loungers over to the fire ring and declared it your spot for the night. Not too long after, Eddie settled himself heavily between your legs, his own long legs hanging dramatically off the edge of the chair and his head resting softly on your chest. 

Across the pit, Steve hunches over the fire roasting a marshmallow, and Robin stands over him, correcting his technique the whole way through. In the distance, you can hear other party goers chatting and splashing in the pool. All sorts of kids you graduated with, back from their various colleges for the summer, are gathered around the keg at the corner of the patio and sitting by the fire, but ever since he joined you on the lounger your whole focus has been on Eddie. 

You can smell the spice of his shampoo with his proximity, and his weight on your chest grounds you. He knows you’ve never been one for big parties, and truthfully neither has he, but now that he’s friends with Steve Harrington it comes with the territory. So you both attend, albeit a little reluctantly, and always seem to find your own little bubble within the group. 

The idle fiddling of your hands has turned into braiding, taking small sections of hair at random and twisting the strands together, dropping each braid when it’s finished and scratching softly at his scalp before seeking out another random section. 

Eddie lets out a hum of satisfaction when your fingertips massage his scalp, a lazy, contented smile spreading over his features. He snubs out his joint against the grass and crosses his arms over his chest, opening one eye to peek at you through his lashes. 

“Better be careful there, sweetheart,” he mumbles before closing his eyes again, "You could put a guy to sleep like this.” 

“Hm,” you place a kiss on top of his head before going back and gently undoing the random braids and running your fingers through his hair to comb out any knots you created. “Would you really complain?” 

In response, he wiggles in place, making a show of getting into a more comfortable position and nuzzling into your chest. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen with his content expression and he sighs. “No, not really. Oh-” as quickly as he just settled into you, he sits up and turns in place to face you. He’s digging in the inside pocket of his jacket and clearly looking for something. “-I almost forgot. I got you somethin’.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, but can’t help your curiosity. “What? Why?” Your birthday isn’t for months, and even if you and Eddie were the kind to celebrate anniversaries, there isn’t one coming up for some time. 

“I dunno,” is his simple response. His eyes light up when he finds what he’s looking for and he pulls it out, placing the bandana-wrapped item in your hand with an uncharacteristically bashful look in his eye. “No occasion, really. I saw it at the game shop and it reminded me of you, so I had to pick it up.”

Unwrapping the item, you roll your eyes. The gesture is only to (hopefully) distract him from the fact that you’re blushing like crazy. “You’re too much,” you chastise, a fond little accusation that he’s come to realize is a variation on I love you when it falls from your lips. You hand the black bandana back to him, and roll your eyes once again at the little drawstring bag it reveals. You don’t ever recall telling him your favorite colors, but he nailed it, and the embroidery along the top edge is delicate and unique. You run your finger along the stitching and smile, laughing as you ask, “A dice bag? Eddie, I don’t even have my own set of dice, I always use yours.” 

“Well, you see,” he gives a laugh of his own and reaches into another pocket. He produces a set of dice from the pocket, this time they’re a color eerily similar to your eyes, and rattles them in their box before you so that you can see the bonfire reflected in the little flecks of glitter. “I saw little pieces of you all over that place. I had to stop myself from buying the whole damn store.” 

[a-mere-dream]

SVSSS snippets from fics that never came to be

Because I don't want them to just die on my harddrive. Mostly BingQiu, but contains various ships. No Archive Warnings Apply.

BingQiu - Angel AU. I abandoned this one because the whole Christian idea of angels just didn't mesh well with the Chinese everything from SVSSS

It’s really quite embarrassing how Shen Qingqiu dies. 

No ambush to take out the Demon Realms’ Empress. No gigantic monster to tear through him as he heroically throws himself in front of his husband, and no [Idea Three]

In the end, it is like this: he wakes up with a cough. It doesn’t seem like much for the first day, and Binghe makes him a nice cup of tea to soothe his throat. They go to sleep wrapped up in each other’s arms, and then -- he simply never wakes. 

Except he does, he does, and what does it matter if he is burning with an internal light that blinds everyone who tries to look at him, Binghe can still see him, and it’s not like the wings on his back weigh that much anyways!

Things are simply… a little different. 

He has twenty-six mouths, and the record of how many he can put to use on his husband at once before he comes is thirteen and getting higher. He has fifty-two eyes, and so none of his disciples have been able to get away with cheating since. 

And yeah, sure, he has been getting complaints about people who haven’t been getting any sleep because he summons enough light to brighten the whole Sect when his husband brings him over his peak, but what is he supposed to do! Papapa in daylight? Are you mad?

* * * BingQiu - senseless fluff. This one has the highest chance of one day finding a place in a oneshot.

Shen Qingqiu cringed as Binghe plucked the wrong string, the note loud and discordant. Hurrying forward, he bowed down next to where Binghe was diligently practising the Qin, and laid his hand over Binghe’s own. 

“See? Like this,” he said as he gently folded Binghe’s fingers into the correct position. 

Binghe nodded, ears tinted red -- embarrassed about his mistake, no doubt -- and continued onwards with his song, making no further mistakes. 

Shen Qingqiu sighed, thoroughly content, and settled back to listen. He was very glad that Binghe had never questioned why his Shizun didn’t just give verbal instructions -- imagine having to admit he didn’t know what anything was called, that he was operating on muscle memory alone! He'd surely be more embarassed than Binghe was now.

* * *

CumPlane - No Transmigration AU. How much would a banana cost? Twelve dollars?

“Airplane.”

“Cucumber-bro. Why the hell are you here?”

Shen Yuan has the audacity to act like that’s a strange question, like he always waltzes around in supermarkets for people with less income than a small country in his spare time. He puts a hand to his chest, his face pulled in an offended expression that he doesn’t even have the decency to make look natural. He lifts his other hand, a plastic bag of marshmallows pinched between his thumb and pointer finger carefully held at least a foot away from him. It was all too clearly just grabbed from the shelf next to him. 

“Why, I’m shopping, obviously. I adore these --" he squinted his eyes, “mahs-mellos, now two for the price of one.”

Even though Shang Qinghua didn't know what life was like with not only a private cheff but twice-weekly deliveries of food without ever even making a shopping list, he was pretty sure you'd still know what a marshmellow was.

"Is this about Binghe's latest wife?"

"Yes!" Shen Yuan abandons his pretense of politeness and motions wildly, almost smacking Shang Qinghua in the face with off-brand sweets. "Of course this is about Binghe! How could you --"

* * *

BingQiu (?) - Tropes. I think this may be the first thing I ever wrote for SVSSS, and it's only a paragraph long. It's nice to see where I've come from.

When he woke up, he found to his disappointment that they had not accidentally cuddled together in the night. System! He wanted a refund. What happened to 'gravitating towards each other in their sleep'? No 'instinctively searching out each other's heat'? If he had to live in a dogblood novel, at least he should get its shameless excuses for physical contact. What was he supposed to do, actually ask for it? His face isn't thick enough for that!

* * *

No Ship - Shang Qinghua. From something angsty. I think I felt poetic. I still kinda like it, and might recycle it someday.

"I will do this," Shang Qinghua spoke. His hands shook and so did his courage, but his voice was kept steady against it all. "I will finish out these few days, and I will set my plan in motion, do not doubt that."

He clenched his fist, then loosened it again. "And when it is done," he said almost idly, "I will loosen the tight grip I have on myself, and I will break. I will shatter into a hundred, a thousand little pieces, and whatever will come next, I will not be there to care about it."

* * *

BingQiu - Music. I think this might actually be connected to the earlier bit about instruments, something about telling a story through song? I don't have a musical bone in my body, so it was left to gather dust.

Shizun was learning how to play the flute, entirely from scratch. Binghe's heart felt it could jump out of his chest at the overwhelming affection he felt each time Shizun played a discordant note, each time he stopped in the midst of song, frowned, and started from the beginning again. 

Shizun trusted him, Binghe thought. Shizun allowed himself to be vulnerable, to show himself as something other than the perfect Master who knew everything -- then again, this only made him more perfect in Binghe's eyes, as each scratchy melody spoke of determination and perseverance, of his cleverness and speed of learning.

Shizun was truly amazing.

* * *

Platonic CumPlane - Explanations. Before this bit, Shang Qinghua was explaining something about gender or sexuality, I forgot what.

"That sounds stupid," Shen Qingqiu said bluntly. 

Shang Qinghua frowned at him, serious in a way he rarely was. "Don't disparage it just because you flinch away from any indication you might not be 'normal.'"

* * *

OG!Luo Binghe/Shen Yuan - Abduction. Bingge steals a Shen Yuan, but isn't ready to accept the resulting affection.

“Oh, and I’m sure that one morning I’ll wake up, and I'll realize that you’ve wrapped me up so tight I can barely breath," Luo Binghe crooned. "And that will be the moment I’ll take scissors to your web, little spider, but until then I’ll gladly let you play with your strings.”

Shen Yuan stared at him. "There are no strings," he felt the need to say. "And if there are, that's because you put them there."

"Then why do I feel like I can't breathe when you touch me?" Binghe shouted. "Why do I feel like I'm going to collapse when you walk away!"

"I don't know," Shen Yuan said, a little more vicious than he'd like. "I don't know anything about you! You are so --" He screamed in frustration. "I didn't do anything! It's you! You are feeling something, but I didn't reach into your chest and put it there!"

Binghe recoiled, but Shen Yuan didn't let him speak.

"Why would you take me like that if you didn't want me! You can't go, oh, love me or you die, and I'll just pick the next Shen Yuan that will," Shen Yuan mimiced Binghe's smooth voice. "You can't demand me to love you and then be mad when I do!"

He paused, breathing heavy. "It's not my fault when you grow to feel something in return," he said softly. "Just... Either try and accept it, or finally kill me. I'm done." He closed his eyes. "... I'm done."