#necklaces rings watches like they’re all gold

[sri-rachaa]

Man of the year || Milo Greer

[belphegorey]

⌜sapphires, mammon⌟ his little human looked so pretty in gold ships ⎯⎯ mammon x fem!reader tropes ⎯⎯ vaginal sex, blushing mammon, dick piercing, scenting, size kink, praise, marking, pact marks, lots of greed

Gold. It dropped down your skin in silken cloth, caressing your body in the thin layer and making you shimmer. Necklaces and bracelets glittered like the finest of treasure on your body. Earrings dangled with more carats than anyone could afford.

The tantalising speck in your eye reflected the same ore. Your wicked smirk taunted him in more and more of the golden decadence you were encased in. The finest of prizes. The treasure all pirates would hunt for, the gift all people would die for, the only thing Mammon would kill for.

Rings hung on your fingers. Rubies, emeralds and diamonds galore. The jewel within the golden earrings, he realised, were perfect sapphires. His chest grew tight as they glittered under the chandeliers. “ Your eyes ,” you had whispered them on your first day in the Devildom, just after Mammon had given you his completely grand tour of the House of Lamentation, “ they’re so blue .”

Mammon could still recall his scoff. You had been so strange. Sure, he had only listened to you for an hour by that point, but he had decided you were not worth his valuable time. Most of his mind had been occupied by whether or not his stocks had lowered during the day. “ They are not blue ,” it had felt like an insult to him at the time. He hadn’t even acknowledged the sheer intrigue upon your beautifully shining face — whereas it was all Mammon could think of now, “ they are like… sapphires. Sapphires and gold. ”

You had nodded with a faint little smile. It was the first smile he had seen of yours. Mammon could describe each expression on your face, and the variety of your grins in great detail, but that one was the most valuable in his mind. Rare, special, and one you had shown him first. “ Sapphires and gold .” Yet again, his mind was occupied with profit, including whether or not he could find a way to sell you as an experiment to Solomon, but even then Mammon had felt pride seeing your soft expression just for him. The first time he had felt something positive toward you, a blissful premonition of your shared future. “ A beautiful combination .”

His tongue tied into knots. It was the worst torture he could have ever endured. Any punishment from Lucifer paled in comparison as he watched you descend into the room with the same small smile on your face. His skin burned hot and the rings around his fingers, one of which you had given him as a gift, did nothing to cool his fire. All his brothers stood around him, watching and praising your every movement, he was sure that Beelzebub had slipped drool onto the floor beneath them. Mammon scrunched his nose to ignore the stabbing in his spine.

His. It was what fuelled him. Greed was what flowed in his veins and blossomed in his throat. You were his. You dressed up in the finest of materials for him . You wore sapphire earrings for him . The little smile on your face was only for him . His brothers were not who you were looking for. They were not the ones who protected you and listened to your every story.

“You look darling, my love,” Asmo moved forward in a movement similar to that of a dance. His steps were delicate and smooth as he whisked you away from Mammon’s eyes. You had gone with him like a true ballerina, performing with your typical delicateness and respect. Mammon was sure that he could hear the growing orchestra of the human ballet play out in his head. Did that make him Hilarion to your Gisele? His fingers twitched as he noticed Diavolo and Barabatos greet you with smiles.

Everyone was watching you. Had you been anyone else Mammon would say it was because of the scarcity in your outfit. He knew better. You were the treasure that sparkled in eyes. No jewel, no car, not even his precious Goldie, were comparable to you. You were his human. He was your demon. Your first demon.

Mammon would not allow himself to just watch you be flaunted by his brother. He jumped to action, the orchestra in his mind crescendoed to a glorious triumph, and Mammon made his way across the room. Your golden dress and the sparkling smile guided him forward, the itching in his back of wins that threatened to burst through fuelled him further. Your eyes, lit brighter than the chandeliers above you, found him and your smile returned. Big, toothy, mischevious. The hand weighed down in glorious rings ran softly against your hip, the jewels catching the light gloriously.

Temptress. You were no worse than one of Asmodeus’ succubi. Mammon loved it. Your tantalising gaze licked at his greedy veins and pressed him to act further. To let loose. To properly remind everyone who you were meant for.

“I’m glad you could make it, Mammon!” Diavolo’s regular grin greeted him while Barbotos stood to his left, arms folded in the usual servant manner. Both of them stared into his body, Mammon could feel the eyes as they fell to the flood of green surging off his soulless body. He attempted a smile to placate the royal before him, but your sparkling person kept poking at the corner of his eye. It felt just wrong to look away from you, especially when the hungry gaze of all the higher demons in the Devildom were staring right at you. “Lucifer had said you would be working tonight.”

He had never been so lucky in his life. It was his own curse to step with misfortune haunting his shadow. His modelling job would always run overtime and Mammon would be left hanging from the roof tied in electric cables as punishment for his tardiness. But not that day. Not only did it finish early, a feat in itself, but Mammon was allowed to witness you in all golden glory. “I was gonna, yeah, but we finished early so i’m able to come and celebrate ya.”

He felt your hand before he properly realised you had moved to stand right beside him. Your touch was feathery, slowly running across his back to tug on the belt loop along his hip. The fire beneath his skin was red hot, your touch was the ice he needed to cool down. A shudder ran down Mammon’s spine as you leaned into him, he felt the fire rise on his cheeks at the stance. So blatant, so obvious, it showed that he was dangled on your arm. Him. No one else.

“But,” you sighed and finished your demonus with a low gaze on the floor. One of the fingers you had caught around his belt loop reached for his hand, linking his finger to yours. His lips were sealed tight as the blushed tortured his physique, “it is a shame but I need to steal Mammon for the night. You won’t mind if we leave a bit early, right?”

Diavolo waved off your worry with a hearty grin, moving with your lie though Mammon (and he was sure you as well) knew that he caught your lie easily. “So long as you come over for afternoon tea with Barbatos and I this week, it will be fine.”

“Of course,” you grinned with a wickedness he could only compared to Satan, though that in itself was like a cat. Your chest pressed into his arm as your grin only grew further. “Should I bring over some cakes?”

It was Barbatos who answered the question; with only a simple shake of his head. “That is unnecessary. I will make sure to prepare both yours and the Young Lord’s favourites for our tea.”

“Delightful! I’ll see you both then,” you bid them both a sweet goodbye with a wave of your fingers. Mammon felt himself stuck in a frozen manner as you pulled him away to the door of the castle. All he could register was the cooling touch of your hand holding his own and the sparkling treasure gracing your body.

Mammon was not one for sharing. He never shared his favourite meals. He never shared his time with you. And he certainly did not share his possessions. The gold bars he kept hidden in his safe, the necklaces and bracelets he never intended to wear and Goldie herself were only meant for him. Yet, he needed to see you dressed in his finest possessions.

It sounded glorious. His bed covered in cash and jewels, with his most important treasure laid in the centre, covered in the jewellery he hoarded and nothing else. Just waiting for him to touch. Begging for him. Needing him.

Your visage for the night’s gala was just a little treat for the reality of his dream.

“Where are ya takin’ me?” He tugged on your joined hands in resistance and grimaced as the collar of his suit choked on him. Mammon wanted nothing more than to follow your every step, but his own attitude had to intervene. The door of the castle opened and granted Mammon a warm breeze through the Devildom night. The moons were tall in the dark sky, shining bright enough to make your jewellery glitter.  “Lucifer is gonna punish us. Nah, he is gonna punish me and then say I took ya myself.”

You giggled and he felt his tongue tie together. He loved that noise, more than when the slots would make that fantastic winning chime. “I just had a thought,” you stopped walking and turned around to smile at him. His hand was still caught in yours, and you pulled him in so that your chest pressed together. “Everyone is with Diavolo, so we have the house to ourselves…”

Evil temptress. You were pure evil! Mammon groaned and hid behind his free hand, the blush burning red on his cheeks. “You can’t say that kinda stuff,” he whined into his palm, and your resounding giggle only made him whine louder. It was wicked and you knew it! Maybe you really were part succubi. “It’ll gimme ideas.”

You moved his hand from his face, lips dangerously close to touching him. Mammon was frozen once again. Does he do it. Does he grant himself the kiss he had dreamed of? He needed it, more than he needed the newest 666 Lexura (on Lucifer’s dime) but he couldn’t if you weren’t wanting it. Mammon would wait for an eternity for you. “And if I want you to have those ideas?”

From then on, it was Mammon who led you to the House of Lamentation. The searing burn of his skin was nothing to the icy touch you offered, he needed it all over his body. Your hand was tightly gripped in the veiny grasp of his fist, but you no made no cries.

There was only gleeful laughter as you ran along beside him. Mammon didn’t allow himself the pleasure of moaning over your beautiful laugh, not when he knew what was awaiting him inside the large doors it the house. As much as he did love your laugh, he was just dying to hear your moans instead.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you look so determined,” you whispered it into his ears as he fumbled with the handles of the front door. Stupid faulty lock. Stupid prank from Belphegor to annoy Lucifer. Your lips were inches from his ear, more teasing speech sounding like the song of sirens to lure him in, “want me that bad?”

No speaking. If he spoke Mammon knew he would mess everything up and wake up from the dream he had to have been having. Instead he successfully pushed the front door open and whisked you away to his bedroom. Where you belonged.

It all just felt so right having you inside his space. Your scent has gotten so faint over the days it had been since your movie night together. The aura you held, so mischevious in its purity, tainted by his pact. He could see the black blemish along your soul all around you, burned by the mark along your sternum.

And yet, it just fuelled him so much more. It was all his. You were his. You were dressed up all for him, ready to be coated in his treasure, and smiling at him in wait for his next step. You stood in front of his bed, fingers trailing down the golden dress you tortured him with. It would be so easy to push you back onto the mattress and ravage you as he had desired for far too long.

Mammon was sure that his breathing was ragged and shallow, he must have resembled a monster. His hair was messed from his own awkward hands as he tried to stay calm and the tingling of his wings still taunted his back in wait. One more step and the control over himself would combust.

He was always weak when it came to you.

“Mammon,” you whispered his name like it were a crime. So soft spoken, not wanting to break the bubble. Your mischief, the teasing, it had gone. All that stood left before him was the radiating greed from your form, drowning his mind in the finest of liquor, “I need you.”

Snap . He heard the crack of his wings hitting the air before Mammon properly felt them extend from his back. They tore through the suit he wore as he pounced on you, your back falling to the mattress under his body.

You were so small. He was not the largest demon, but there was something in the sheer difference in your frames. Your face was cast in his shadow, your alluring eyes large as you stared up at him. There was no fear when his claw tore through the front of your dress.

Instead, there was a bright smile, the one he loved, when you realised what he was doing. “Yours, Mammon,” your hands found his hair and the horns protruding from them, pushing your chest closer to his face. The torn gold along your chest had revealed your glorious body to him, but most importantly, the mark that made you his.

“Mine,” the word was like a growl on his tongue as he watched the mark. It glowed in his presence, even more of the glorious gold that he loved. “Had to watch ya be shown off. I felt sick watchin’ but I couldn’t look away from ya, Treasure.”

You lifted a leg around his hips to press yourself against his erection. Mammon felt his cheeks go red from the shame but your shaky moan at the touch melted it away. His greedy little human, it felt amazing to know he was not the only one desperate. “Did I look pretty for you?”

“So so pretty,” he pushed up the skirt of your dress, letting the long material bunch at your waist. He wouldn’t let you take it off, maybe not for a long time. His colour was just too beautiful on you. “Gonna need you to wear this every day.”

You shuddered against him as Mammon ran a long finger along your cunt. No underwear. He had always heard Asmo talk about how you couldn’t wear panties with some clothes, but he just thought it was a lie. And yet, you were on display for him just like that. “That may be hard since you tore the front,”

“Ain’t no one else seeing you in this.” No. No, he couldn’t be having that. Even if you were in an outfit that covered all your skin under hundreds of layers, Mammon would still prefer it for his eyes alone. The wet heat on his fingers made his head spin in horny glee, the sweet smell of you making his eyes roll. “Just for me from now on. Got it? Me.”

You pushed against his seeking hand, rubbing more of your slick onto his palm. His erection throbbed in his pants. He needed to feel you. Feel all of you. “I sound like a doll then.”

His wings flapped and Mammon bit his lip. Doll. That worked. He rather liked it. “My doll, though, not my brothers,” he dug his head into the crook of your neck. Your smell was so strong, it streamed from every pore in your skin, he felt intoxicated. The growing lust, the overwhelming greed, even the licks of pride that often made his face scrunch were delicious from you. “Need ya really bad, human.”

You stroked his hair and rolled your hips against him. “Then, have me,”

The soft words had spurred action within you both. Mammon had gone into his back while you adjusted yourself to straddle him, his erection flush against his toned chest and leanings beads of white. Your eyes never strayed from his dick, he felt like glowing under your approving gaze.

“You have piercings?” Mammon nodded with a smirk, shining from the wetness he could feel growing on his thighs. You liked it. He should have known you would.

Your hand gently went to grasp his cock, thumb running along the golden piercing beneath the head. His moaned through his teeth at your curious touch. You did it again, gauging his reaction and milking another bead of precum from his slit.

Mammon noticed the bite of your lip, the slow grinding of your hips and the flooding lust in the air. He wanted to show off for you, tease you, and simultaneously ask if you wanted him to get more. “I really like it,” you eventually said, rubbing your palm against him as you lifted yourself into the air.

He dug his fingers into the mattress beneath him. It was happening. The thing he had craved. Something Mammon would have sold all his belongings for. You. He got to have you!

You aligned his dick with your entrance, whimpering as he entered. Your golden dress had fallen down and hid the act from his eyes, which may be a good thing because Mammon knew he would never be able to tear his eyes from it. He groaned as you slid down the shaft, taking more and more of him in such a slow movement that it felt torturous.

Until, he was completely in you, pushing you and stretching you out. He could feel your cunt tight and warm around him, throbbing in need for only his touch. Your face was scrunched in desire as your lip wobbled. His little human. All full.

“Doing so well, Treasure,” he moaned the praise into the air, his hand right on your hip. The glow of his pact mark fuelled the flames inside his body, only triumphed as your tits slipped from the torn dress. Mammon couldn’t help himself. “My human. Lookin’ all pretty for me,” he continued to whispered all the praise he had ever thought of when it came to you, moving himself up and closer to your chest.

When his mouth kissed the skin around your breast, your body shook as you moaned. He graced his fangs to see your reaction — it was just as needy as the last. You began to move on his dick, bouncing up and down while you pulled on his hair.

More marks. He wanted to leave enough marks on you that no one would dare go near you. Mammon squeezed his hand in your waist as he bit gently on your chest, and to his surprise you giggled through your shaky moan. “Am I your property now, Mammon?”

“Not property,” he was quick to dismiss that. You were his, but not an object. You were his favourite treasure, someone to worship. “You’re mine though. Don’t ya forget that or else.”

Your movements were that of a succubi. You’d managed to get him nice and deep inside you, threatening his control over just filling you up with his cum each time, then pulling him out so just his tip would kiss your opening.

And yet, your face was angelic and oh so sweet. Mammon was enamoured. “I won’t ever forget,” he couldn’t help but nuzzle into your neck again. It felt so safe. Mammon kissed your neck as he moved his other hand to your hip, moving your body with your bouncing, adding just the slightest bit more speed.

His favourite doll. His sapphire and his gold. His.

© belphegorey 2024 ⌜18+ banner from @/cafekitsune thank you <3⌟

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

Inspired by the latest Reductive Audio:

Lil useless facts about my fav boys/listeners. No hate if I didn’t include your fave, I was making my list off memory and am just now realizing I missed like… three entirely series worth of people.

Vincent

He prefers silver jewelry over gold, but doesn’t care if styles are meant for men or women. He likes what he likes and will wear it. He’s a particular fan of dainty necklaces and women’s wrist watches, but likes men’s rings better.

Sam

He smoked when he was human. Lucky Stripes, since they’re cheap. It was a bad habit he picked up when he was eight or so to cope with his home life. He lost the ability to be chemically addicted to nicotine when he was turned, but he still itches for a cigarette when he’s particularly stressed.

Alexis

She’s very jealous of Will’s attention. She gets twitchy when he’s paying attention to anybody else for too long. This results in spikes of her reckless and bad behavior. It started when Vincent was turned, then when he took in Porter, then when she turned Sam. The most recent was after the Inversion.

William

He cannot paint or draw to save his life. He’s followed five or six Bob Ross paintings, but they never turn out right. He can draw stick figures, but that’s about it. His penmanship is beautiful, though.

Porter

Will made him testify against his maker since Porter’s treatment was particularly brutal amongst Felix’s progeny. Porter didn’t want to, but he recounted every moment of Felix’s torture while being stared down by the man himself in front of the whole council. It was so damming that Felix invoked him to stop. That’s the moment that Porter still has nightmares about.

Lovely

Lovely is incredibly anxious around their human friends. They’re scared that they’ll lose control and hurt someone, even though they’re very well fed and haven’t shown any lack of control in the past. This results in a few months after the inversion that Freelancer thought they were dead, since they showed up on the casualty list.

Treasure

Their older brother is a humanborn freelancer. He’s an enforcer for the Department. They think that fits him well, since he was always sort of a bully growing up. Treasure themself is an investigative journalist who writes for an empowered newspaper. They were trying to get a table at the Monarchal Summit even before they met Porter, but that didn’t pan out.

Freddy

He played french horn in high school. He was pretty good, and was drum major in marching band his senior year. He threw up before every game because he was so nervous.

Bright Eyes

Singer/song writer. Y’all ever listened to the Mountain Goats??? That’s their shit. Slow moving acoustic guitar, songs about the most disturbing and distressing emotions humans are capable of surviving recorded on cassette. Singing at dead coffee shop open mics in the wee hours of the morning. Their voice is raspy and rough, but the texture just draws you into their even timber and perfect pitch. They’re a minor celebrity in Dahlia’s sad boy live music scene.

David

His hips and back hurt So Much all of the time. He figures out that it’s because he’s incredibly strong but not flexible in the slightest. An imbalance in those two factors can lead to a lot of pain. He starts doing yoga after the Inversion when it got really bad and it’s helped a ton. Plus, Angel does it with him, and he likes watching them bend into all of those poses in their tiny, skin tight shorts.

Asher

He keeps track of how much David weighs and makes sure he can comfortably lift and carry that much weight at the drop of a hat. At the end of every work out, he deadlifts David’s weight to make sure he can do it when already spent. He should have been carrying David after the Inversion, but he didn’t have the strength to do it even when not fucked up. He won’t let that happen again.

Milo

He needs reading glasses but refuses to wear them. He tried contacts but he can’t stand to put anything in his eye. So he just squints and struggles through. His phone’s text is blown up like a grandpa’s. David is so bothered that Milo won’t just… get glasses. He keeps passive aggressively offering to add Milo to their vision insurance plan.

Christian

He had a little crush on Asher in middle school that translated to teasing the shit out of him. Which, Asher being Asher, put him off and hurt his feelings. He’s well moved on but sometimes, when the sun catches Ash just right or he smiles that stupid, toothy smile, Christian mourns his own stupidity.

Arden

Desperately protective of Christian, especially after the Inversion. The first time Ash makes a light-hearted joke about Christian’s limp, Arden put his ass on the ground, despite Christian laughing at it.

Gabe

He drove a white Chevy Cameo with a red interior for most of his life. It was lovingly maintained, and since it’s such a rare model, he did all of the maintenance himself. After the crash, the truck was totaled. David still spent a few years trying to put it back together. He called it quits when he was working on the interior and found dried blood under the leather of the seats.

Angel

They have a small stuffed lamb that they’ve had since they were a baby. It’s beaten up, falling apart, and no longer the stark white it started out as. Lambie is kept in their bottom bedside drawer. They only pull him out when they can’t sleep. They were worried David would think it was weird, but he actually finds this more endearing than he can put into words.

Babe

They didn’t start talking until they were three. Their parents thought that they were nonverbal, and had started teaching them ASL as an alternative. Then one day at the breakfast table, they opened their mouth and started spouting full sentences. They taught Asher ASL and the two of them use it when they want a private moment in public/when Ash is overstimulated. (Side note; David also knows ASL, he took courses in high school. Very useful, he loves it. He does not love it when watching them flirt nastily in front of him.)

Sweetheart

They’ve had anxiety since they were a very young child, and it’s always been an internally-sourced thing rather than externally motivated. They recall the first time they ever got in trouble at school (first grade, for pushing a boy who had been tugging on their hair all through recess). They remember the first time they got a B (fifth grade, on a math test they studied for for hours). Their parents had high expectations, but Sweetheart was having panic attacks from the age of three. Definitely something ~chemical~ going on there.

Darlin

They feel pack bonds incredibly strongly. Their body reacts physically when someone in the pack is threatened or hurt, without them even having to think. They shiver when Sam calls them ‘mate.’ When David says something in his lovingly dubbed ‘alpha voice,’ they can’t help but listen. They knew Gabe was dead before they got the call. They thought Ash was dead during the Inversion because they felt David’s dread through the bond so strongly.

Avior

He’s unnerved by human’s tactile nature. Being in a body is strange for him, and he prefers Aria to Elegy (at least before meeting Starlight), so touch is an extreme sensation for him. Humans touch so much. He’s not opposed to it when it’s someone he knows, but handshakes are the bane of his existence.

Starlight

Halloween is their favorite holiday. They start decorating for it in August. They plan elaborate, complex costumes and parties. They desperately want to move into a house so that they can set up scary decorations and shit in their yard and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Avid lover of the Spirit Halloween animatronics. They go to Halloween Horror Nights every year.

Camelopardalis

He’s trained himself to use the human terms for things (ex: terra or earth instead of elegy) since some in the Department don’t like it when daemons use their terms. It means that he gets weird looks from other daemons when he talks to them. It’s an alienating feeling for sure.

Vega

He’s never tried human food. He never saw the appeal. What he doesn’t know is that he would absolutely Love dark chocolate if he tried it. He likely will never know.

Warden

Avid reader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle comics. Just the comics, though. They don’t have an apartment in Elegy, but they do have a small storage unit where they keep their comics. They coalesced a few years before the comics starting their run, and for some reason, they just fell in love. Vega thinks this is silly and that they should be embarrassed, but they refuse to be.

Hush

He loves Popeye’s fried chicken sandwiches. Doc fed him one once and it blew his fucking mind. He won’t make them with magic, either, he insists that they don’t taste the same. Doc has started just getting gift cards for him to keep so he can get one whenever and doesn’t have to wait for them to give him money. He’s ravenous for those things.

Doc

They’re actually a warder, not a healer. Hush’s presence has encouraged them to refresh their healing knowledge, however. Even if he himself is difficult to hurt, he sort of invites chaos.

Morgan

He uses his foresight to see what the owner of his favorite little bodega down the street is going to have for breakfast every morning. It’s his little morning ritual and practice for his magic. He feels weird all day if he doesn’t do it.

Seer listener

Their sight is more potent and more clear than Morgan’s. They can give stark details, see full landscapes, and turn 360 deg in their vision and see the whole space. They also can hear what’s happening consistently, something that goes in and out for Morgan. He figures that they’re just more powerful than he is, something that makes them just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Damien

Gets incredibly stressed on election days, whether for local, state, or national elections. He forces everyone he knows to vote, volunteers to shuttle people without cars, and has at times volunteered to be a poll worker. But elections make him anxious. He cares so much about the results. Huxley has recently instated a post 9pm ban on watching the news on election nights so that Dames will actually sleep and not stay up all night stressing.

Huxley

Does not eat beef. Not for religious reasons, but because of the impact of beef consumption on the environment. He’s about one step away from a full vegetarian, he just likes chicken and is concerned for his protein and vitamin intake. This is difficult for Damien, who loves nothing quite so much as a rare steak.

Lasko

He was forced to take piano lessons as a child. He hated it, but took them up to the point he left home. He’s still very good, and did get peer pressured into showing off at a random guitar center once while out with the D.A.M.N. crew. He nearly died of embarrassment.

Gavin

He has a collection of very pretty rosaries that he uses as jewelry. He is not religious, and if asked, cannot describe what a Catholic is to you. He likes to wear them around his neck, dipping over his body since his shirts always cut down to his navel. It makes people gasp and blush, which is his favorite effect to have on somebody. His fav one has beads made of mother of pearl and a little, golden crucifix on the end.

Freelancer

They love cheap Chinese buffets. They claim that, the lower the health rating, the better the taste. Their desire for krab rangoons is strong enough to pull them from the comfort of their home at 2 in the morning if the fancy strikes. Damien in particular is horrified by this, and keeps offering to cook them some actual Chinese food.

Dear (Lasko’s listener)

An all star volleyball player in high school and college. They were a setter, and took their team to nationals all four years of high school. They are on the starting line up all through college. When it gets brought up in their trip that Damien plays casually, they said they did too. And then absolutely creamed him.

[leclerced]

Lando is the type of guy that has this whole ass plan on how to propose and it’s absolutely perfect. He’s been remembering things about engagement his girl told him or people around them and he planned all of this based on the ideas because he wants all the princess treatment and all the best for his girl. But then sth happens like it can be either good or bad but it’s a big deal and he can’t wait any longer so he proposes in the most random moment ever

ugh screaming crying throwing up

he would plan the proposal a year in advance like she passively mentioned when they met she liked a certain date, like 1-11 because it was pretty. from that moment he plans to propose on that day and have the wedding on the same day a year after he proposes, he’d definitely place deposits on numerous locations across the world to save the date before he even proposes because he wants to ensure she’ll be able to pick anywhere she wants. i can see them getting to the point they talk about marriage regularly and what they want in life, he knows the styles she likes, the stones and cuts, silver or gold. lando knows exactly what she wants and has a ring custom made by one of the world’s best jewelers.

it gets to the point where he has the ring but she doesn’t know he has it yet. it’s like march/april, so he’s got like a year to go before he’s planning on proposing. after he buys the ring, he puts down deposits for a year out from the next 1-11 and starts planning how he’ll be proposing over winter break. he’s pretty much got it all set in stone, has a romantic getaway planned to somewhere super private. she complained once she hated public proposals because of the pressure put on them, she never wanted to be forced into saying yes by prying eyes. he just wakes up one morning though and she just looks perfect, the ring is calling his name and he just knows its the right moment.

he takes it out of his suitcase and the little box and just fiddles with it until she finally wakes up and rolls over to him, seeking out his warmth. she peeks an eye open and sees the ring being twisted between but doesn’t think much of it, until he takes her left hand as she places it on her chest, kisses her palm and says, “good morning, will you marry me?“ she genuinely thinks she’s dreaming because the sunlight flooding through the curtains is dancing across their hands as he slides the ring onto her finger after she says yes. soft slow lovemaking where he skips the whole fiance bit and calls her his wife and mrs norris because he’s had the ring for months and couldn’t bear holding onto it any longer.

he loves his expensive watches you know he’s dropping a fat stack of cash on the rings he buys his lover. the engagement ring is stunning, but he somehow outdoes it with the actual wedding band and his matching one. plus matching necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and a hairpiece for the wedding.

i dont wanna be angsty but imagine him having a crash where he’s not seriously injured but maybe he goes unconscious. i think ppl dream when they get knocked out ok so he dreams ab him and reader married then wakes up in the hospital and is like, “i need to marry this woman she’s the one for me.” when they’re finally alone at the hospital, he’s just like, “i wanna marry you, i want- if anything ever happens to me…” and she was already crying bc she was worried about her boy, but his words make it worse and she clamps a hand over his mouth so he can’t say anything else. he pulls it away and tells her he’s serious, he wanted to wait and make it perfect but they don’t have to wait for the perfect moment, any time he’s with her is perfect and he wants to be able to call her his wife before something happens.

[kittysdiary]

Heyyy love !! I hope you are well, so I love the advice that you give to us girliessss 💕💕💕, so i was wondering can youu help me. So I really was always inspired by the 2000s video vixens , and can you help me to start achieving the look of one? With the hair , the clothes , the jewelry. And just how they act is just amazing they are just so effortlessly confident and walk with all confidence which is amazing

The Ultimate Y2K Video Vixen Guide:

Beauty:

Most video vixens stuck to more natural beauty looks and used color + shimmer in photo shoots or if they’re the main girl in music videos. Their makeup was used to show off their best features.

Stick to neutral toned eyeshadow

Go for a CC cream or tinted moisturizer

Light blush + more bronzer

Practice your eyeliner techniques

Brown, nude and pink lipglosses are your besties

Brown lip liner!!!!

Do a smokey eye look

Wear your natural lashes or use false wispies

Faux beauty marks

French tip + almond shaped nails

Thin eyebrows were the go-to look in the 90s and early 2000s

Go for a light glow on your face and body

Most color shadows I tend to see on video vixens were light blues, pinks, purples and greens

Hair:

Video vixens always stuck to their natural hair styles and hair colors.

Braids

Straight hair

Up dos

Brown, black, blonde or dark hair with blonde highlights

Natural curls

Bobs

Blow outs

Wardrobe:

Clothing + accessories is an essential part of the video vixen look, it’s what separated them from other cast members in music videos.

Crop tops + bra like tops

Furs

Form fitting dresses that showed off their figure

Short shorts + mini skirts

Gold jewelry

Hoops

A cute hat

Charm necklaces

Belly button rings

Thongs

Sunglasses

Heels

Waist chains

Corset tops

Bikinis for the summer

The Act:

Video vixens were full of confidence and natural sex appeal. Not only that many of them were successful and well educated women!

Create a video vixen mood board

Watch video vixen documentaries

Practice walking in heels

Build your confidence. Journal + affirm.

Work on yourself. Get your education, find a hobby + get into a new career that boots your confidence.

Exercise or do some yoga. Get active

Keeps friends with high confidence + who boost your energy.

Go out and have some fun!

[redwayfarers]

ties that sever, ties that bind

Fandom: Wayfarer Ship: Intellis (implied) Characters: Cassander Inteus, Despina Helena Inteus Rating: Gen Words: 2375 Spoilers: Mild spoilers for ep2! Author's note: this is the final part of a series, though it can be read as a standalone. Read the rest over on ao3! divider credit

Find Zenaida, the agreement goes. Split up and find Zenaida. She has one of those faces you see in the crowd, full of other equally bright, decorated and artificial faces. Aeran whispered to me she seemed more honest than most, earlier, and maybe she is, on the Dareia. But here, in the crowds of nobles? She’s like everyone else. 

When you grow up around these things, it’s easy for one face to replace another. I vividly remember the few events I was invited to as a kid; I was told to not speak to people, to just nod along to whatever they’re saying and sit in the corner, a child-shaped statue. I wasn’t to embarrass the family, Aiantes said. 

So they got me all dressed up, in one of those child appropriate versions of adult serithans, and styled my hair out of the way. A curl or three would inevitably slip, even if the hands that had braided them were very skilled, and I remember Theokleia staring me down. We have the same hair, my mother and I. I knew her hair wasn’t as flawless as she’d pretended it was. 

She never forgave me for that. And for many other things, but the knowledge that the same trait that gave us both a sharp, prominent nose also gave us the same coarse curls was like a cherry on top of a cake of hatred. Her makeup was always well done, gold like her eyes. Her nails were long and pretty, painted to match her serithan. She always wore gold jewelry, rings, necklaces, earrings. 

And me? Gold dangled off of me in much the same way, mismatched and too grown up. The nails were a little too much, but I was allowed a dash of white every now and then. And so we’d pose, my mother and I, show the world my health is just fine for the moment, and I’d be carted off to a seat in the back, with my back ramrod straight, mindful for any movement, sound or word. 

Aiantes wore luxury more effortlessly than his wife. The simple styles of the Vestran elite suited him better than they did Theokleia; they made him look graceful, pristine. Yet he too was dissatisfied; he was rarely allowed to be an eyesore he wanted to be, in bright colors. Too Arathian, I heard him mumble under his breath. Too much, too foreign, too extreme. But he watched turquoise cloth with barely restrained yearning. 

And here I am, almost two decades later, in that same Arathia my father hated and envied at the same time. Mahanin Palace roars around me, proud and loud and unapologetic, and I’m walking amongst the crowds of nobles with my scars and tattoos, dressed in turquoise, with a Wayfarer pendant around my neck. The same curls Theokleia struggles to keep in line are now more defined than they've ever been and braided loosely on my shoulder. 

It’s freeing, in a way. As much as I’m filled with memories that were never mine to begin with, there’s this strange sense of exhilaration about it as well. I am not bound by the same social conventions as everyone else. My lack of magic made sure of that. Instead, I can walk around with the ink on my skin and not worry about jack shit. I can wear my hard-earned scars and not worry about how it may appear to some stuffy asshole who’s never seen any trouble in their fucking life. 

That, and I’m taller than most people I see. Aeran jokes that I’ll spot Zenaida for that alone, and that same Aeran didn’t tear his eyes off me before we joined the throng. That same Aeran kept touching my fingers ever so slightly, whose presence was the soothing balm for the weirdness that is dealing with the aristocracy like this again. 

When he’s gone, I feel plunged into deep, dark waters of my long-lost destiny or some poetic shit like that. People are watching, staring. The Cassander from years ago - the child in the corner, ramrod straight, watching like a hawk for any infraction - rears his little curly head and watches. I am not that kid anymore, I outgrew this! Yet my throat feels tight. My skin feels exposed, but I want them to look. I want their hungry stares and I want to be as unsightly as I can be, just so their worst fears can come to life. 

A Wayfarer, straight from Wayfaring Lands, in their fucking midst. An Inteus, from Vestra, the Red Wayfarer everyone kept whispering about during the civil war. A class traitor, almost. A cursed being. An eternal exile. 

Find Zenaida, the deal goes. She has to eat, probably. Off to the Pavillions, then, as one very rude servant instructed me. His eyes were trained on my pendant. “I haven’t acquired the ability to not eat and survive yet,” I breathed with equal amounts of venom. The guy just turned his back to me and left. Find Zenaida. Zenaida will eat. 

The Pavillions look like a place where people’s marriages fall apart. Nobles mingle, laugh, at ease with each other, so different from the stiffness of the parties in pre-war Vestra. Some give me strange looks - an exotic animal walks in our midst, better drop my eyeballs to the ground from how hard I stare, right? Languages mix in my ears alongside accented Arathian. These people are educated, beautiful, carefree. I could’ve been one of them, in another life. I understand every word they’re saying. 

Suddenly, Vestran hits me like a knife to the gut. I turn my head and spot them, their simple serithans, their loose hairs, their sparse jewelry. They speak with the familiar lilt of Vodena, fast and flowing like the city itself; there are harsh, slow drags of northern dialects and the absolute, nigh incomprehensible mess that falls under the way southern Vestrans speak. They didn’t speak like this when I was a kid. They spoke like the nobility of Vodena. They are relaxed now, so they’re not forcing the fucking issue.

Amongst them is a round, short woman in white. My heart clenches in my chest. She moves her hands rapidly as she speaks, revealing details of pink here and there. Her nails are flashes of dark pink. Her hair is black, wavy and glossy. 

My sister Despina has always had a huge love for pink. She was allowed to wear darker pinks, more graceful pinks, but only in bits and pieces. Pink has always been her statement color. Her serithans reminded me of Theokleia’s, merely adjusted to the body of a developing teenager; she wore the weight of them as much as I did. What a small mercy, I think bitterly, to be allowed to wear a spot of color. To be allowed to express personal preferences. 

When she turns around in my direction, I dig my heels in the ground. She looks like Aiantes, now even more so as an adult. She may have the precocious balance between a curl and a strand of hair and the golden eyes that many elves have, but she’s her father’s daughter. The way she holds herself proves it. She doesn’t let the brief shock in her eyes show but joins her fingers before her instead. She watches me, judging, in the same way Aiantes did, as if her elven eyesight allows her to pierce souls as well as darkness. 

Despina lowers one hand to rest near a plate of sliced oranges. I blink. My legs refuse to stay still and move where they’re supposed to, so I’m slowly walking towards my sister and the oranges near her hand. I vaguely remember someone telling me she used to feed me oranges when I was a baby. I don’t believe it, personally. Sounds less plausible than me suddenly getting magic. 

I reach out to take one. My heart wants to leave my body to convulse and die through my throat. Neither of us are looking away. The chatter of the Vestran delegation dies down. 

Despina moves her hand. Not fast enough, though. One touch and she’s looking away. “Red Wayfarer?” she asks softly, in Vestran. 

“Despina Helena Inteus?” I reply just as quietly, in the same Vestran as her. Mine sounds tainted with Arathian. “I have a name, you know. I am not just a Wayfarer. There’s a person somewhere as well.” 

“Cassander,” she says. She says it differently, though. Kassandros. “Why are you here, Kassandros?”

“I am Zenaida Anaxas’ bodyguard,” I reply quietly. Her eyes blaze, assessing, before she takes one orange slice and bites into it. 

“Whatever happened to Lady Markal?” 

“Dangers are many,” I say cryptically. It almost makes me laugh. And I do, only more quietly than I would’ve normally. Despina watches me, playing with the delicate silks of her serithan. 

“Lady Anaxas has always been a rather odd woman, from what I hear,” she shrugs. “I did not expect her to hire a magianis bodyguard, though.” A pause. “I thought you had died, Wayfarer Inteus.”

She speaks so evenly, so formally, her words accented so precisely I could’ve been reading a grammar. Nobody speaks like that. Aiantes didn’t speak like that, Theokleia didn’t either - not when the eyes of the world were away, at the very least.  She’s barely blinking, her body is tense. What is she afraid of? 

“Fortunately for all of us, I am here to entertain yet again,” I say, more harshly than I intended. “Cockroaches are hard to kill.” 

“I do not find your existence entertaining,” Despina says. 

“Not even when I was a kid? Not even before you knew I was a magianis, not even when you supposedly fed me these fucking things? Do sisters not play with their brothers?” There, an accusation, right at her feet, because otherwise we’d be here talking in circles forever. Her tone does not allow for any acceleration, but for fuck’s sake, mine will. 

Despina purses her lips. Wind blows her hair to and fro, light and breezy, but the way her back straightens is anything but. She is now the ramrod straight, cornered child. Part of me feels horrified. Part of me wants to push, to prod, to ask all the questions that have been on my mind for decades. Where were you when I needed you? Where were you, o’ older sister, where were you when our own mother slapped me across the face and watched me beg and cry on the ground? Where were you when she threw all her rage on me, like a bag nobody wants, where were you? 

Oh right! By her side, laughing, watching, throwing insults as well, immaculate, coward, fucking weak! Anger boils in my very being. The oranges stare at us as a stark reminder of what we had, before nature fucked up. 

“Officially,” she starts cautiously, “that did not happen.”

“Officially? And that never lies!” 

“Truthfully,” she says, as if I never responded, “the line was drawn and I had to choose. So I made a choice.” 

Anger dissipates. She’s the first to acknowledge what’s happened - my parents refused, Aftonio had no idea, Nikias rejected the concept altogether - but Despina.. Said it. Here, in the same empire that loomed over our heads when we were kids, like a demanding mother. Theokleia isn’t here to judge us, though. She is away, she’s somewhere else. 

And in her wake she leaves her eldest children to admit to ancient wrongs. And do what with that exactly? What will I gain by confirmation? What happened can’t be undone. They took my peace years ago. What will I gain by this? It lingers in the air, a dagger to cut the knots of anger and shame or slit your own throat. 

“Do you even care what my opinion of that choice is?” I whisper bitterly. “Not like it’ll change shit.” 

“Not like it’ll change shit,” she echoes, now in a more normal, less proper accent. “I simply felt like you should know. Do with that what you will.”

I eat an orange. It is juicy, sweet and tastes entirely too much like ashes. “I am here on a job, Despina,” I say hoarsely. My eyes are weirdly dry. Maybe my heart soaked all the tears. “Tell me one more thing before I leave - are my orange groves safe and sound?” 

I used to escape there when life as an Inteus became too much. Too bad I didn’t chase that label away when I could, at inauguration. I loved those groves. There were no orange groves at the Spire to escape to, when life as a Wayfarer became too much at times. It’s the only thing I think of fondly when I think of that fucking estate. 

“They are,” she says softly, like a goodbye. I take a look at her one last time - her shiny waves, her made up, long eyelashes, her thinly lined, golden eyes, the curves of her shoulder and belly in her serithan, the dusk of her skin in firelight - and I feel my eyes prickling. 

“Thank you,” I whisper at the oranges. “I hope you treat your heirs better than our mother did hers.” 

We exchange glances one more time, for a mere moment a brother and sister again, and she turns to the rest of the delegation like nothing happened. And me? Rasimira’s talking to a group of nobles. They’re pestering the poor steward about something. There’s no sign of Zenaida, but maybe Rasimira knows where she is. 

My heart feels like a soggy cloth, but I am here on a job. I am a professional. Nothing else matters. Still, part of me hopes that Despina’s children don’t face the horrors I have. Part of me hopes one of them is magianis, so at least a part of me lives in that family. Maybe I will see them in a few decades or so. 

And maybe we can all sit around our parents’ graves and discuss what they’d done to us all. Maybe then we can bury our hatchets, or raise new ones, of our own make. A Wayfarer, Lady Inteus, a Guild mage, and whatever the fuck Nikias ends up as. 

I have a job to do. 

[fictomorph]

Any Objections? (Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth TF/TG/MC)

This story contains female to male TF, character TF, and identity death as well as Wrightworth shipping/romance.

———————

“Looking for something in particular?”

A voice disturbed Griffin, who was currently hunched over the top of a display case, filled with rings, all of them beautiful, finely crafted….and expensive. He jolted up, meeting the eyes of the clerk.

“Oh...yea.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly chuckling. The clerk looked him over, trying to read him for what he wanted. Decently groomed short chestnut hair, a purple polo shirt and pressed jeans, brown leather dress shoes...probably had something decently important later today. And considering what kind of jewelry he was looking at….

“You’re proposing later, aren’t you?” Griffin paused, nodding.

“How did you?...” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Ugh, yeah. But everything’s so expensive...I’ve been saving for practically a year and even then I can barely afford any of the good ones!” The clerk watched him as he went back to pouring over the rings, struggling between getting his loved one something they deserved and something he could pay off.

“Actually..” He perked up, holding a finger in the air as his icy blue eyes pondered a thought. “I think we might have a set of rings in the back for decently cheap, $100, $120….but they still look rather nice and are of high craft. Would you like me to see if we still have them?”

Griffin nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Really? Oh thanks, man, you’re a lifesaver!”

“Ah, no problem. My job is to help people find what they’re looking for, after all! Now if you’ll excuse me…” He walked off, headed into the forbidden parts of the store unknown to the commoner. After a few minutes, Griffin (who had started scrolling through Twitter) was brought back to reality by the sound of something being set on the glass in front of him, along with the clerk’s statement of “Take a look”.

Two small ring boxes were laid in front of him, one coated in red velvet and the other in blue. He lifted the red box, popping it open to reveal the contents inside. A rose gold band, with two small diamonds and one ruby crowning it. The edges of the band flares, giving it a ruffled pattern almost like creased fabric. Ooh...this would be perfect for her! He picked up the blue box, inspecting its hidden treasure as well. It was a similarly simple pure gold band, two sapphires on either side of a diamond tucked away in a golden four-pointed star. He looked back to the clerk, grabbing both of them as he fidgeted his wallet from his pocket.

“You said these were…$120?” The clerk nodded, leading to Griffin slamming the money on the counter. “Oh man, thank you so much! She’s gonna love this, I-I can’t thank you enough!” Placing the ring boxes in a bag for him, the clerk waved as another satisfied customer ran off.

The rest of the day was as normal as it could be for a day leading up to such a big event. Griffin called to double and triple-check his reservations were still in place, re-washed and ironed everything he was wearing for later, and took an intensive shower. Everything had to go perfect for tonight. Soon enough, after what felt like both no time at all and a full eon, his doorbell rang. Answering it, he was met with the face of his beloved Kelly. She had dressed similarly nicely, a long somewhat shimmery orange dress accompanied by a pearl necklace. Her blonde hair had been neatly curled at the edges, letting it frame her face in a rather flattering way.

“You look nice.” Griffin stuttered, eyes darting across the room as she chuckled.

“Thanks. You too.” She grabbed his hand, leading him out the door. “C’mon, we should get going. You said this place was expensive, and I don’t wanna miss our chance to eat $100 steak.”

The car ride over was nice, Kelly looking out the window at the late-night city’s lights. Her eyes drifted over the scenery, soon enough settling on the restaurant they had arrived at. She had known it was a fancy place, but she didn’t expect it to look quite this nice. The building had strings of fairy lights dangling from it, and as they walked in, she took note of how well everyone was dressed. She started to think she might’ve underdressed for the occasion.

“Mr. West? Ah yes, we have your reservation. Please, follow me.” The waitress led the two to an empty table, one which happened to be on the patio. A nice open space, no one else outside, illuminated by the moonlight….it was perfect. Griffin kept a hand on the two ring boxes in his pocket, waiting for the perfect moment.

Whatever was above must’ve taken a shine to them that day, as the dinner went perfectly. Their food was cooked to perfection, the wine the servers brought out was a rich palette, and all night the moon and stars were perfectly visible and bright. As Kelly polished off her second glass of wine, he gripped the boxes tighter than he ever had before and sighed.

“Hm?” Kelly placed her glass down, focusing on her partner. “Something wrong, Grif?”

“No, it’s just….we’ve been together for a while now and...you’re really important to me. I

realized I found something I don’t wanna lose. So….” He took the red box from his pocket and held it out to her, letting her see as he popped it open. “Will you marry me?”

She gasped, grabbing the box as she teared up. “Oh my God….yes!” His heart pounded out of his chest as she slipped the ring on, admiring it. He had taken the shot and hit a bullseye.

“The best part?” He held the blue box in his hands, showing its contents to her. “They’re a set. We match!” Putting his own ring on, Kelly practically pounced on him as she pulled him into a hug that turned into the two holding each other’s hands, rings resting against each other. It felt like a moment that would last forever…..until they withdrew their hands in shock.

“Ow, something shocked me!” Kelly rubbed her hand, surprised by the indignant interruption.

“Yea, me too….might’ve been some static electricity or something in the rings.” Griffin explained to the best of his knowledge. That was a thing that could happen, right? Metal conducted electricity.

“Mhm...probably. Felt a bit stronger than static, though. It was just...weird.” She unconsciously flexed her fingers to fully shake the feeling, although a new, even stranger one replaced it. Her hands began to shift, growing broader and more well-groomed, like they belonged to someone from the upper class. Though the expected tightness of the ring becoming too small for her fingers was strangely never present…

“Maybe you just aren’t taking your wine well.” Griffin chuckled, taking her hand in his in an attempt to comfort her, only to realize how large it was compared to mere moments ago. He gulped, feeling his hands become a bit more comfortable in holding hers, the change nowhere as near as drastic as Kelly’s but still something concerning. His arms tensed, swelling with a slightly toned layer of muscle new to his form. He took his hands from Kelly’s, looking over them. Sure, he admittedly never held his wine the best, but he’d never hallucinated before, and he’d definitely never actually felt it.

“Grif? Do you think someone put something in our food?” She took a longer, more well-built arm to her chest, feeling the fat layered on it melt away and replace with an admittedly not too shabby set of pecs. “Wh-What?” Her face flushed, eyes widening at the realization that whatever was happening to them had decided to shift her sex around.

“I’d like to see whatever drug can do something like this at all, let alone this fast!” He gripped onto a chair’s back, groaning as his back popped, leaving him slightly taller and, as a cursory scan of his new body would reveal, sporting a new set of abs. “Woah...this is...something.”

Kelly, meanwhile, was not as enthralled with her changes as Griffin was. She felt awkward enough in her dress already, and the cracking of her spine and toning frame didn’t serve to help. What only made things worse was the notable pressure she felt from her high heels, confirming her fears as the sides of the shoes gave, leaving her feet exposed in the cold night air. “Ugh….just kill me now….”

“Hey, cmon, don’t be like that.” Griffin pulled her into a hug, grinning in an attempt to ease her fears. “This probably won’t be that bad.” She looked up at him, desperate for some form of comfort. It was probably just the changes, but...he looked so much more handsome than usual. His jawline was sharper, his eyes had cooled to a soft smoky grey, and his formerly chestnut hair had burnt to a dark black, even changing how it was styled into a striking slicked back and spiked look. Something about it was…..familiar and comforting.

Griffin swept a bang from her face, letting him look at her shifted face. He let out a quiet gasp, her heart sinking.

“I-Is it bad?” She clasped her hands together, still feeling the ring.

“No, you’re...you’re gorgeous.” His hand rested against her cheek, taking everything in. Her face had gained this strong stoic look to it, almost statue-esque. His hair had faded to a platinum, combed into a set of bangs that perfectly framed his face and made similarly pale eyes stand out. “I...wow.” He’d never felt this strongly towards...anyone. He took one of her pearls in his hand, only to let go of it as he realized it had gained an odd fabric like texture.

Kelly watched as her pearl necklace flattened and softened, the chain around her neck becoming the same silk as the pearls now were. She brushed over it with her hands, the string now a rumpled scarf of some sort...what was the term? The word “cravat” suddenly popped to mind, albeit she didn’t know where from. Yes, that was right.

Griffin coughed as something tugged against his throat, looking down to see a bright red tie had formed around his neck. More notably, where it touched seemed to sap the red from his shirt, leaving it pure white as the still-blue edges tugged away from itself, leaving him with a formal white undershirt topped with a sapphire blue suit jacket. “Guess they have a stricter take on business casual than I thought…” He awkwardly joked as he watched the blue spread down to neatly pressed dress pants, his changes finishing with his shoes expanding slightly and shifting into dark leather.

Kelly brushed her face, slightly flushed from Griffin’s new form. …..Griffin? Was that right? No, that...that wasn’t it. What was his name, though? As she thought, her clothing underwent its own metamorphosis, bleeding into a combination of a black vest and a deep red suit jacket, albeit this one more high quality than her partner’s. The material shared its conquest of her wardrobe with her partner’s changes, as the ends of her dress wrapped around her legs into fanciful perfectly tailored wine red pants. Her shoes even got a second shot as the heels flattened to the ground, a refined pair of leather dress shoes.

“Is...is it over?” The two looked at each other, Griffin pausing at his new voice. It was young, nothing too outstanding on its own but probably could be with some power put behind it, like some form of objection.

“I...I believe so.” Kelly gasped, putting a hand to her throat as she felt her new Adam’s apple. The voice it had given her was a rather pleasing one, deep and proper, the voice of someone who really knew what they were doing. “My...this is all so….” She didn’t get to finish her thought as she trailed off, Griffin taking her hands one again.

“Not what I expected to happen tonight, either. Can’t say I’m too mad though.” Kelly blushed, Griffin’s face equally red as he leaned in for a kiss, which she gladly reciprocated. That simple act sealed the two’s fates as when they pulled back, a different, more fitting set of memories and personality traits belonged to the pair.

“Wright....must you be this extravagant?” He looked around the patio, taking in the almost storybook-like picture the two found themselves in.

“Of course. Nothing else for my Miles.” Edgeworth turned his head, leading Phoenix to giggle.

“You’re an embarrassment.” He tried to come off as his usual stern self, but the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips was his lover’s cue to keep going.

“Hey, you know how I get when drunk.”

“I suppose I do, Feenie.” Miles slipped his hand into his partner’s, only for the two of them to pause and investigate the rings they didn’t remember putting on.

“Guess I was a bit more drunk than I thought….” He looked away, rubbing his neck in that ever-so-Wright way. A pause of awkward silence, before he sighed and reconnected eye contact. “Hey um….even if we don’t remember it...would you still...you know…”

“Of course, you idiot.” Edgeworth full on smiled, a rare sight, and grabbed Phoenix’s hand once again, planting a kiss on his cheek. Even if they didn’t quite remember how they got here, this proved to be the best night of their lives.

[apathetic-theme-song]

Afterlife Orientation

Jounouchi tells Shizuka some important information about the afterlife. Namely, that everyone's dating everyone else. Ties into Tomb Robbery & Other Plights. CW: Everyone's dead and they talk about it a little.

Shizuka was a little overwhelmed, if she was being honest. One moment, she’d been lying in a hospital bed at the end of a long life. Then, she woke up in a near-perfect recreation of Domino City in a body much younger than the one she’d died in with an ethereal-looking woman who gave her water and patiently explained that this was the afterlife. Jounouchi had come to find her almost immediately and show her around before dropping a pretty big concept on her. “So, we can go other places,” he said, stretching out on the couch of his apartment. It was still cluttered and messy, just like the one he’d had back when he was in his 30s. “Courtesy of Atem, we can go to Egypt, too.”

“Like… his Egypt?” Shizuka knew a little about Atem, but the whole ‘Pharaoh’s soul trapped in a necklace’ thing had been pretty wild to her even when it was happening.

“Yeah. Oh!” Jounouchi shot upright, digging around in the mess of papers to find a blank one. “Except there’s a few things you should know. Everyone’s kinda… been getting around since we’re all together.”

“Katsuya! I don’t want to hear about that!” Shizuka practically screamed, eyes widening in horror.

“No no no - just hear me out, okay?” Jounouchi started scribbling on the paper. “So, like… it turns out that we’re all pretty bad at being monogamous, okay? So you should know who’s dating who. It’s kind of a mess.” Shizuka tentatively sat on the couch next to him, watching as he created something of a flow chart. “Okay, so Atem’s at the top, right? Since it’s his afterlife and he’s been here the longest.” Jounouchi drew out some lines linking to five names. “He hooked up with Iah first - I’ll explain Iah in a second, you never met him - but then he also has Mana and Mahad. They’re like his best friends since they were kids. When Yugi and Anzu showed up, they all settled that weird love triangle they had going on when we were alive, so they’re all together, too.”

“Are they still married, though?” Shizuka asked curiously.

“Oh yeah. Yugi and Anzu are definitely still a thing, although Anzu’s also been spending time with Mana lately. And honestly, good for her. Yugi kind of has a thing with Ryou now, too, except they haven’t made it official or anything.”

“Yugi and Ryou?”

“I know, right? Then again, they had that kinda vibe before Yugi and Anzu got hitched, so…” Jounouchi shrugged. “Anyway. Yugi and me - you know I love ‘im, but it’s strictly platonic.” He paused. “Atem kissed me when I first showed up and I didn’t hate it, though. And I messed around with Ryuji a little, too, but we're better as friends.”

Shizuka couldn’t help but smile, leaning in to coyly ask, “Did you and Mai ever…?”

Jounouchi smiled back at her sheepishly and held up his hand to show off the simple gold band on his ring finger. “Oh yeah. Although she has date nights with Ishizu sometimes. Didn’t see that coming, but my girl’s got good taste.” Jounouchi turned back to the page to draw even more names and lines. “Anyway, Ryou’s kind of off in his own world, but like I said, he’s kind of got a thing going with Yugi, and he’s been spending a lot of time with Marik and Kek, too -”

“Wait, who’s Kek?”

Jounouchi took a deep breath, then started coughing. “Hoo boy - marker fumes! Kek’s… so Marik had DID when he was alive, and Kek was his super-evil alter ego that tried to kill everybody.”

Shizuka shuddered. She briefly remembered seeing Marik jump off the deep end in Battle City. “He’s there, too?”

“Yeah, but he’s been here a while and he’s actually chilled out a lot. Mai and him can't be in the same room, but it’s civil enough. Marik and Kek have a lot of issues they're still working out, so Ryou dating both of them is kind of awkward. And speaking of awkward - Iah. He’s the Thief King, he was kind of the reason Ryou went a little crazy, too. It’s complicated, but Iah’s pretty cool now. He’s with Kek and Atem, but he’s been hanging out with Marik a lot. I guess they kind of had a thing back in Battle City and they’re sorting that out. Ryou kind of hates Iah, though.”

“I really didn’t think Ryou was the type to hate anybody.”

Jounouchi shrugged, staring down at the paper. The flow chart was looking more like a word jumble at this point. “Well, he didn’t like talking about what he was going through. He’s still working on that. He was actually pretty pissed off about a lot of things. It wasn’t entirely Iah’s fault, I guess - part of him got sealed up with literal Evil Incarnate and made Ryou’s life a living hell, and Ryou still doesn’t trust that he’s good now.” Jounouchi sighed. “But… he likes Marik, so as long as you don’t leave him and Iah alone, it’s fine.”

Shizuka slumped against the couch, her head spinning. “This is weird. Dating people that your other partners don’t like?”

“I mean - we’ve literally got eternity to work stuff out. There’s been a few break-ups here and there - oh!” Jounouchi slammed the paper down on the table. “Almost forgot about Kaiba! So he spends most of his time here, unfortunately for literally everyone else, but he goes to Egypt to duel Atem now and then.” He sighed. “Honestly, I don’t think Kaiba can figure out whether he loves Atem or hates him. It’s a real on-off relationship, and Atem always gets super bummed out whenever they go ‘off’. He just needs to make up his freaking mind.”

Shizuka thought back to Jounouchi’s irrational hatred of Kaiba when they were younger and said tiredly, “Or maybe you could just -”

“Finish that thought and I don’t have a sister anymore. Uh - Kaiba does kind of have a girlfriend, though. I think. No one’s ever met her in person, but he wanders around with a girl sometimes. So I guess we add her in, too.” Jounouchi wrote ‘girlfriend from Canada’ underneath Kaiba’s name and linked them together. “But that’s pretty much it. Any questions?”

“You guys really have a lot of free time, huh?”

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. “Hey, we’ve got all the time in the world, remember? Kind of. They’ll let us reincarnate whenever we want, but everyone’s pretty happy right now, so we’re gonna be around for a while. There are tournaments here and a lot of festivals over in Egypt, so it’s easy to keep busy, too. We’re not just lying around with each other all day.”

Shizuka found the energy to sit up and tease, “Good, because you were really good at lying around when we were alive.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I was a high-ranking Duelist and had a job! A lot of jobs, actually. I worked hard!”

“I know, Katsuya.” She reached over to hug him from the side. “I hate that you got stuck with Dad and all his debt.”

“Yeah. Thank God Yugi let me crash with him after Dad died, I would’ve never been able to afford rent.” Jounouchi got quiet and abandoned the flow chart, leaning back against the couch to hug Shizuka back. “I’m glad you’re here. You did good after I was gone?”

“Yeah. It was hard,” Shizuka admitted, tears starting to well up in her eyes. “They named my grandson after you.”

“Oh, stop it, I’m gonna start crying, too,” Jounouchi said loudly with a laugh, his go-to reaction when he was getting emotional. “Hey, the cherry blossoms will start blooming soon. Once you settle in, I’ll grab the gang and we’ll go, okay?”

Shizuka hugged him tighter and smiled. “Sounds good. Thank you, Katsuya.”

Jounouchi ruffled her hair gently. “What are big brothers for?”

[thearchmanofgreenfield]

As the sun passed the highest point of the sky, bringing forth the evening, Lucian dread reached fever pitch. All his yes could see was a dagger plunging into his hand. He had learned not to be frightened of the faces that would surround him. But the thought of crumbling under the pain still haunted him.

He sat in his room, the clothes he had worn in the afternoon lying in his bed. He wore a black shirt, over which he wore a ceremonial black waistcoat with golden buttons and a pattern of gold branches weaved all over it. Next to him on the bed was a long white cloak, trimmed with yet more gold. On top of the cloak was tall top hat with a strap and a small golden rod shaped like tree branch sticking out of the top. Lucian stared at this set of clothes, knowing their immense importance. He then laid on his bed and sighed. Still conflicted and still filled with dread.

As he laid on his bed, his hands outstretched. Trying to drown his worries away, he heard a knock on the door. The sudden sound made Lucian’s head jerk swiftly towards the door. The first knock was followed by a second, but Lucian didn’t feel like answering. He convinced himself that it was most likely Lily, or Benjamin or the twins. Such assumption barely lasted a few moments, because the second knock was followed by a voice, one that made Lucian jump out of his bed with fear.

“Lucian, are you in there?” said the voice, it was feminine but sounded much older compared to any of his peers. The voice sounded clam at first but it soon became angrier, “Open this door right this moment, young man!”

Lucian practically fell from his bed as he desperately staggered towards the door. He grabbed the doorknob and unlocked it before swinging it open. On the other side of this door was a woman who looked like she was in her forties. She wore a whitish grey dress and a similar waistcoat with a pattern of silver branches. She had hair that was blend of black and brown which extended down to her neck and was held back by a horizontal crown braid. She had brown eyes and a kind smile. One of her most striking features was the blue gemstone necklace she wore around her neck and the golden ring she wore on her left hand. Her name was Janice, Janice Demon, Baroness of Demonum Borough.

“Mother…!” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t think I need a reason to see my own son!” said Janice. She then walked forward; Lucian instinctively moved out of the way, he then watched as she took the cloak and top hat that were lying on his bed. “I assume you have no complaints about these, you will have to wear them throughout the ceremony. So I suggest you tell me whether or they need to be changed,” she said while glancing at Lucian. Lucian nodded, “No, they’re fine”, before he sat on another side of the bed. Janice took both articles of clothing into her arms before turning around in order to walk away. Lucian took a deep breath and prepared to return to his sulking. But then he saw Janice peek over at him while she was walking out, she seemed to realize something was wrong that moment she saw his face. She stopped walking and sighed, she then walking over to Lucian whilst glancing at him sympathetically.

“Is something the matter?”

Lucian flinched, somewhat surprised. “What? No! Nothing, mother,” but his hurried and somewhat lackluster response did not deter Janice. She sat down next to Lucian. Her sympathetic smile made Lucian melt faster than any of Joe’s insults and accusations. “How are you feeling?” she asked with a voice so soft that Lucian thought he was being enveloped by clouds.

“A bit…uneasy” he said. Janice chuckled, “Well that is an understandable feeling, it is not wrong to dread the mysterious,”

“Did you fear it?” Lucian asked suddenly, “During your ceremony,”

Janice looked off into the distance for a moment, perhaps recalling her own experience. She then smiled again, “Yes, yes I did. And so did your father,”

“Really?” asked Lucian curiously, finding the thought of Henry being scared of something a bit unbelievable. “Why of course! Don’t let the formality fool you! Your grandfather told me your father was practically shivering in his shoes when he walked up to the knife and chalice! I suppose you’re really his son in that regard,”

Lucian sighed. Those words relieved his worries some more. But he still had questions. “So what was it like? Your ceremony?”

“Well, it was far more modest than this, that’s for sure!” she said. “Even the lesser nobility of Everton Borough would look humble compared to all this,”

Lucian blushed. But Janice was still not done. “I see you’ve been getting along quite well with the others,”

Lucian snapped out of his thinking, “Y…yes, mother. I suppose you could say that,” he said swiftly think about all the things he had done with the others up until that point. All the sneaking and speculating. Part of him worried whether his own mother suspected him of something.

“Good, Lily told me that she didn’t think you’d be so open. I suppose it is safe to say you’ve thoroughly proved her wrong,” said Janice, Lucian noticed the tone of her smile shift a little. It made him feel somewhat uneasy and it only reconfirmed his thoughts.

“Lily underestimates me, she like to be demeaning and insulting. She gets laugh out of it,”

“Well that is just how she is,” Janice said with a sigh, “Admittedly, she reminds me of myself at that age. But don’t fret too much over your little sister. Such qualities often go away with age,”

Lucian laughed weakly. But then Janice gave him a side eyed glance. “Your father tells me you’ve been sneaking about the house with the Hatlys and the Morrows”

Lucian inhaled sharply. Which made his mother raise an eyebrow.  “May I ask what you’ve all been doing? Your father tells me that he caught you snooping about outside his study, he seems to think you’re up to something”

“No!” said Lucian hastily, but he then realized that his response wasn’t ideal. So he continued, “No, mother. I was a just… showing them the house!” he said, his mind working faster than it had ever done. “Nothing more,”

Janice narrowed her eyes at her son. It was clear that she wasn’t completely convinced. Lucian was beginning to sweat. But to his surprise, and relief, Janice just sighed.

“Hmm,” she said, “Well I suppose there’s nothing wrong in that,”

Lucian sighed inside. He still wasn’t sure whether his mother had been convinced. But he wasn’t going to pry any further. And neither was she. Janice then stood up from the bed with the ceremonial clothes still in her arms.

“Well best of luck, dear. I know you will not disappoint!” she said with enthusiastic smile. Lucian smiled back, trying to seem equally cheerful. “You know I won’t, mother! You know I won’t,” he tried to say, but his tone ended up sounding weaker than he would have liked. Luckily, Janice didn’t seem to mind.

Lucian watched as his mother walked out of his room. She closed the door behind her. The moment Lucian heard the door close he released a sigh of relief and laid on his bed with his arms outstretched. He then began to drift once more into self-loathing, driven farther the fact that he had reassured his mother that he was ready for the ceremony. He knew such wallowing wasn’t what most would consider healthy, but there was a certain comfort to be had in the admission of fear and doubt.

Unfortunately, he was but five minutes into his deep pondering when he was interrupted once again by the sound of someone knocking on the door. This time Lucian wasn’t going to take any chances. He quickly got up from his bed and ran to the door before the stranger outside had barely knocked twice. He swung open the door, expecting to see his mother once again. But to his surprise, the only person that stood there was Benjamin.

“Uh…hello?” asked Lucian quite awkwardly.

“Umm, is this a good time?” asked Benjamin, who seemed to notice Lucian’s awkward and sullen expression. Lucian saw him try and peer behind him, trying to get a look at what was behind him. But Lucian simply adjusted his posture in order to block him.

“Yes, of course!” Lucian said swiftly with a half-hearted smile, “Why would it not be?”

“Wasn’t that your mother? Did she ask you something?”

“No! Nothing at all! She was just trying to console me. That is all,”

“Oh good! Because the Morrows want you to come to the downstairs lounge. They want to talk more about that letter you all found before the ceremony starts,”

“Oh” said Lucian, intrigued. “Well tell them I’ll be there in few minutes. I just have…some things to arrange,”

Benjamin narrowed his eyes at Lucian for a moment before shrugging. “Well whatever you’re doing, you better hurry. I hardly doubt Joe wouldn’t take every second you’re late as proof of treachery,” he said with a smug smile.

Lucian simply smiled weakly in agreement before closing the door again. Once he did, he simply leaned against the door and sighed. He then opened the door again, but this time only slightly. He peeked through the small keyhole and looked as to whether Benjamin was still standing there. Sure enough, he wasn’t. Lucian was about to walk out of him and join Benjamin in the lounge when he remembered something. He turned away from the door shortly and almost walked towards a table that stood next to his bed. The table had a small drawer beneath it. Lucian grabbed the drawer and opened it. From within it he took out a golden pin that about a third the size of his palm. It had a circle with eight teeth and a trident at the center engraved on it, the symbol of the House of Demon. Lucian looked at the pin; he didn’t know what it meant to him. Perhaps it meant family, perhaps his mother’s words had inspired him, but whatever the case he knew he had to wear it. Therefore, he took it and pinned it to his shirt beneath his waistcoat, hidden just like the way his father wore it.

Lucian then made his way out of the door and towards the lunge. He went through the hallway, down the stairs and towards the hallway leading to the lounge. But just as he made it down onto the second floor he noticed something. He saw a soldier, wearing a brown cloak, standing at the entrance to the hallway leading to Henry’s study. Lucian didn’t think much of it at first but the he saw the soldier look at him with a stern and serious gaze that was as hard as iron. He eyes seemed to follow him as he walked past him.  Lucian looked back the soldier, but his gaze did not divert. Lucian felt a deep sense of uneasiness, especially when he noticed that the soldier’s hand sat suspiciously close to a gun that visibly peeked out of his uniform. Lucian did not pause or stop, he simply quickened his pace as he walked passed the soldier, momentarily staring back from time to time to see whether the man was watching him. Sure enough, the man never took his gaze off him until he reached the lounge door. Lucian could hear voices echoing through the hallway leading to the lounge but he did not stop to listen. He simply pushed the door open and marched inside, losing sight of the soldier at last.

Inside the lounge, Lucian was greeted with the sound of incomprehensible chatter. Chatter that died down the moment he entered. Lucian immediately noticed the Morrows in bright colored attire sitting in the same corner that they had sat before. He saw the Venshires sitting in a sofa close to the center of the room. He saw Joseph sit on a lone chair facing directly at him. Finally, he saw Benjamin, who stood only a few feet in front of Lucian.

Benjamin stopped whatever he was saying and turned to the door the moment Lucian entered. For a moment, Lucian thought Benjamin would greet him. But to his confusion, Benjamin looked… disappointed?

“What? No!” he gasped as Lucian looked on with confusion. He saw both James and Joe snigger in their seats. “What’s going on?”

“He was trying to get us to bet on whether you’d come or not again,” said James with a smug grin. “Unfortunately for him, we did not fall for it.”

“Well you would’ve!” said Benjamin. “You all heard Charles say that there was a chance he won’t come,”

“I told you it was improbable!” Charles interjected. “A needle in a mountain circumstance,”

“Well there’s always good money to be made in off chances!” said Benjamin. “But now you’ll never get such a chance” said James. “Lucian inadvertently foiled your plan for profit,”

“Well, there’s still the Hatlys and the Mornings, they’re not here yet!” said Benjamin. Even the Morrows seemed to raise their eyebrows at that suggestion. Benjamin, disheartened after realizing that his peers were less than convinced, turned around and looked to Lucian’s right before asking, “Right, Maurice?”.

Before Lucian could ask anything, he heard a spine curdling ‘CAW’ from his right side. The sound made him jump almost instinctively. He turned to his right and saw a black void of feathers shaped vaguely like a bird, standing on a wooden stand in a corner of the room outside his vision. The bird ruffled it’s feathers and cawed again before standing as standing silently and regally. Benjamin smiled at the bird before turning to the others. “See? Maurice agrees with me!”

“Do you really rely on your pet to support you?” asked Alice, not impressed.

“Well excuse me for having someone to turn to when in need,” Benjamin said defensively. He then stroked the raven below its beak affectionately.

“What…is it…doing here?” Lucian stuttered. Benjamin and some of the others glared at him. “Oh don’t mind Maurice!” Benjamin said swiftly, “He’s just got some valuable information to tell us,”

“By that you mean, tell you,” said James. “Because for all we know it could all be baseless nonsense,”

“Are you doubting me?” asked Benjamin, once more on the defense. “Don’t tell me Joe over there has rubbed off on both of you as well,” he said pointing his finger at Joseph, who yawned out of boredom.

“Well he’s right, though!” said Alice. “According to Joseph, your sister is in on everything! How do we know that you and that black-feathered chicken aren’t?”

Both Maurice and Benjamin tilted took heads back, seemingly offended by that statement. “Well if you knew Lira like I do you wouldn’t be making such accusations,” said Benjamin plainly. He then seemed to go on a rant. “Believe me; she’d rather choke the life out of me than tell me anything. After all that training my mother insisted that she go through even I’m not sure that isn’t some Gratousy spy disguised as my sister!”

The room fell into an awkward silent. “Hmm, seems all is not well in paradise, eh?” Lucian heard Charles whisper to Willow. Benjamin seemed to hear it too but before he could go on another tirade Lucian, who hadn’t understood anything thus far, decided to switch topics.

“Information? How? What do you mean?” he asked, turning towards Benjamin. Benjamin seemed to calm down after that. For he simply cleared his throat and returned to his regular posture. “Well I might have ‘accidentally’ left Maurice’s cage open for the past day. He’s been quietly spying on our parents. Flying around the house listening to their talks,”

“And who’s to say that Lira hasn’t done the same?” James interjected. Benjamin immediately gave him a grim glance. James opened his mouth to say something else but Alice quickly tugged on his arm and got him to stop. Alice then gave James a stern glare. James paused for a moment. He then shrugged, apparently disappointed, but he didn’t go against Alice for he simply stayed silent.

Those words echoed in Lucian’s head. Had Lira used her raven to spy on him and the others? Would he have noticed if she did? He tried to convince himself that Lira had no reason to do such a thing. But then he remembered what he had said to her the day before.

“The rumors? Does she think they told them to me?” he thought to himself. He was beginning to regret his earlier choices. But before he could sink too deep into his own mistakes, he was once again swept up by the conversation.

“So when are you planning on telling us this oh-so special secrets?” asked Joe.

“Ah, ah,” said Benjamin. “Not so fast! I want everyone to hear it! And that means waiting for the Hatlys and Mornings!”

James groaned. “Are all Bernsteins so damn insufferable?”

“Well it takes one to know one, I would say,” Benjamin replied with a merciless haste. “Now! What about a little wager to pass the time, hmm?”

“NO!” everyone screamed at once. Benjamin shrugged with disappointment, but he seemed to have gotten the hint.

A few moments later Lucian heard the door open from behind him. With timing that almost felt comical he saw both Laura and Charlotte enter the room, followed shortly by Evelyn and Arthur Morning. Lucian then noticed a fifth person enter from behind them. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Lily appear from behind the Mornings. She immediately walked up to him and, to his surprise, put her arm around his shoulders before speaking in a cheerful tone.

“Well! You actually did it! You actually did something useful with yourself!” she said with a sort of pride.

“What?” asked Lucian quickly taking her arm off his shoulders. Lily gave him a smug look. “Well I didn’t think you’d be possible of anything other than mild disobedience, but breaking into father’s safe? Are you even the same person?”

Lucia didn’t find her ‘complements’ very amusing. He simply replied with a frown and an annoyed stare. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to look after Lid and Lucy,”

“I was,” sad Lily without hesitation. “But I managed to pass those incredibly important duties onto Luin. Believe me, he was very grateful”. Lucian was not impressed by the thick sarcasm that emanated Lily’s words. However, he did find the image of Luin wasting away with the twins to be somewhat amusing. He also briefly and smiled waved at the others. Particularly at Laura and Charlotte, both of whom returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm.

Suddenly, once it was clear that everyone who was needed had arrived, Joe stood up from his seat. Attracting the attention of everyone in the room. He then turned to Benjamin and Maurice the raven.

“So, Bernstein? It appears that everyone you want is already here. So mind telling us what your fat crow has to say?”

Benjamin took a deep breath. “Firstly, he not a fat crow. Secondly, I…” he said, but Joe gave him a tense stare, his fist twitching as though he was ready to punch him. Benjamin saw this and immediately stopped talking and gulped. He then took another deep breath and turned to Maurice.

Lukan saw Benjamin take Maurice into his arm. He then lifted the raven up to ear. Maurice then started making faint sounds that sounded like regular raven sounds. But to Benjamin they seemed to mean something different.

After a moment of listening to the raven, Benjamin turned to the others. “He says that he heard them talking in the living room about two hours ago. They seemed to be talking about what happens after the ceremony,”

Everyone looked with intrigue and interest. Even Joe raised his eyebrow. “After the ceremony?”

Benjamin nodded. “They said something about a train, one leaving the city tonight. About how they’re planning to catch it after Lucian’s affair is all said and done,”

“A train? To where?” asked Evelyn. “The Baronies,” Laura replied swiftly. All eyes the turned to her. Lucian assumed she had read Benjamin’s mind faster than Benjamin had spoken.

“He’s talking about train leaving for the Baronies, in the countryside. Far away from the city. I assume they’re going to take us there the moment we leave this house,”

“But why?” asked Alice. “Why leave so suddenly? And without telling us?”

“Well now that’s obvious,” said Joe. “You all saw the newspaper. The Circle is on the brink of conflict. It’s fair to assume our parents are taking us to the countryside in order to flee from it!”

“Then why wouldn’t they tell us, hmm?” argued Charlotte. “How would they keep this a secret from us once we’re on the train? Wouldn’t it be better to tell us immediately?”

“Because perhaps we may not make it to the train!” exclaimed Willow. All heads turned to her. Willow momentarily glanced at both Lucian and Laura. Lucian’s face then went pale. Lily seemed to notice this, for she tugged on his arm and asked, “Lu, what’s wrong?” Lucian saw Joe stare at him, but before he could answer James interjected.

“What do you mean?”

“I have been seeing things in my visions,” said Willow. “Both Charles and I see something going wrong in the future,”

“What’s going to happen?” asked Arthur restlessly. To which Willow sighed, “I don’t know. It’s not clear enough for me to understand. All I see is roaring fire, a glowing door and the sound of guns. None of which I would consider a good sign,”

Everyone looked at Willow with expressions of shock and terror. Lucian saw Laura look at him with a worried expression. Lucian’s blood ran cold and his mind flowed with a million grim thoughts. But none seemed to be worse than what the others were feeling.

“S…So is that it? We’re doomed? No, right? Your father must have seen the same thing. Our parents must have a solution!” exclaimed Benjamin, seemingly unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

“It is a matter of probability,” said Charles plainly. “These events may not come to fruition but that is yet to be seen. I assume our parents thought it best not to tell you all this given that this is the reaction you all would’ve given. Better to have us oblivious than worried, asking uncertain questions that demand answers,”

“So why tell us this now?” asked Joe, raising his eyebrow suspiciously.

“Since we are so close to the turning point, I feel it is better to warn you all now, when we’re all here at once. Better than to let you all find out when the time comes,” said Willow. She then once again turned to Laura and Lucian. Joe followed her gaze and soon he began to stare at them as well. Lucian gave Willow a pale expression, Laura turned to Lucian and shook her head in panic, which aroused the suspicion of Charlotte. Willow gave Lucian a subtle nod, and before he could reply, she turned to the others and spoke.

“Besides, if there is any chance of us making it out alive, they lie with Lucian. So it’s best we be prepared if the time comes,”

Lucian’s skin went paler than milk. He immediately saw the shocked and confused gazes of everyone in the room fall onto him, including the gaze of Lily, who looked at him as though he had committed some heinous betrayal. He saw Charlotte stare directly into his eyes, trying to read his mind. Lucian tried his best to hide away his thoughts but then he saw Laura grabbed Charlotte by the shoulder and pushed her attention away by covering her glasses with her palm. Charlotte responded to this behavior with a look of confusion.

“SO YOU WERE HIDING SOMETHING!” shouted Joe suddenly. He then took a few aggressive steps towards Lucian. “Care to tell us when you were planning to tell us about our impending deaths, Demon? You sly-tongued fiend!”

“Hey, watch it!” said Lily defensively whilst taking a step forward, to Lucian’s surprise. “He wouldn’t dare hide something like this without a reason!” she then turned her head towards Lucian, “Right?”

Lucian remained silent. Joe was not impressed. He saw Lily’s confidence waver. “Hold on, how do YOU know all this?” Arthur suddenly asked. “Did Lucian tell you before he told all of us?”

“I overheard him. He told it all to Hatly over there the moment she started questioning him,” said Willow plainly pointing towards Laura.

All eyes then turned to Laura. Lucian saw he face turn red. Charlotte gasped and looked at her sister with an expression of shock. “You knew?” she asked but Laura didn’t answer. She stayed silent for a few moments. She stared at Willow with a baffled look. A look that turned into burning fury as she then marched over to Willow and, to the shock of everyone, slapped her in the face.

“YOU WRETCHED LITTLE SNITCH!” she screamed as her slap almost made Willow fall over and trip on her skirt. The entire room erupted into uproar and arguing. Laura tried to hit Willow a second time but Charles swiftly grabbed her hand and stopped her. Charlotte then grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back, with Laura still struggling to get her due vengeance.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Laura shouted. Willow recovered from the slap and looked at Laura with look of outrage. “How dare I? HOW DARE I? How dare I what, secure the future? What were you planning to do by holding onto such important information? Were you planning to tell us all when we’re about to die?”

Laura went quiet. Lucian could feel the cold stares of the room slowly shift towards him. He saw Joe walk up to him with an aura of bitterness. His glare was unavoidable and steely. Lily tried to stand between him and Lucian but Joe just lightly shoved her aside. Lucian tried to stand firm and meet his gaze with something that was equally intimidating. But his posture was found lacking compared to that of Joe.

“What is it?” asked Joe plainly. “What?” asked Lucian, initially confused. This seemed to increase Joe’s frustration.

“Morrow said you have a way out. That means our parent’s told you something, yes?” he voice was subdued, yet still it felt like a threat.

“I…ah” Lucian stuttered. His mind was still conflicted. Lira’s orders and the desire to let out the truth bought fought for dominance inside his skull. He opened and closed his mouth several times. But no words came out. Joe raised his eyebrow at Lucian, which only deepened his internal arguing.

“The lives of your peers will rest in your hands,” his head rang.

“The lives of your peers will rest in your hands,”

Finally, it seemed as though he had pushed his silence too far and Joe seemed to snap. Within an instant his hands lunged towards Lucian without a warning. Lucian barely had time to react as Joe grabbed him by the collar and pulled him violently towards him.

“SAY IT! YOU PATHETIC, TREASONOUS WRECTH!” said Joe. His suddenly burst of aggression triggered the entire room into a frenzy. Lily grabbed Joe by the waist and tried to pull him away shouting, “Get off of him!” but Joe simply shrugged her off. Laura tried to help but Charlotte held her back, her own feeling of anger still unresolved. Meanwhile Joe shook Lucian a few times. Finally, Benjamin ran over from his side of the room and grabbed Joe by the shoulder. He then pushed Joe away with all his might. Joe tried to hold on but he was forced to let go of Lucian. He fell back and leaned into one of the chairs in the center of the room, his expression showing nothing but disgust.

“ARE YOU INSANE?” asked Benjamin, “You won’t accomplish anything by using brute force! What is wrong with you?”

“HE IS STILL WITHOLDING CRUCIAL DETAILS!” Joe snapped back. “After all this, Demon still won’t spill the truth!”

“Why are you so obsessed with ‘the truth’?” said James. “Has hearing the unwanted whispers of everyone who has ever met you made you think everyone is lying to you?”

Joe gave James a look of shock, his posture now appearing almost feral. “But he is hiding the truth! You all heard Morrow. He is keeping the way to safety all to himself!”

“Well perhaps it’s for good reason!” Lily shouted back. She then shot an unsure glance of Lucian, who was still a bit shocked from Joe’s aggressive shaking. “Maybe the future is better off if we do not know,”

Joe looked at Lily with a look of a both rage and desperation. It appeared as though the entire room had turned against him. “Are you all mad? You can’t be serious!”

“You took it too far, Angelmore!” shouted James. “We do not attack each other! That is not the way we do things!”

“Well, fine then!” said Joe, throwing his hands in the air, apparently accepting defeat. “You are all FOOLS! He has hid things from us since the day we came here, and none of you have the will to find out!”

Lucian looked at Willow, who looked at him back and nodded. Lucian then looked at Laura, who he knew was reading his mind at that moment. Laura did not move and both she and Charlotte simply stared at Lucian with Laura giving an expression of acceptance. He then looked around the room, which seemed to be on the verge of chaos with both Benjamin and Lily standing beside whilst Joe argued with James and Alice. He then took a deep breath and sighed.

“IT’S THE MIRROR!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. Joe and the Venshires immediately stopped arguing. Benjamin and Lily turned to him in surprise, as did the Hatlys and the Mornings. The Morrows both closed their eyes and sighed. Lucian stared Joe straight in the eyes as he spoke.

“That’s the solution. I was supposed to take you all into the Mirror for safety if things went wrong. THAT ISIT,” he said with his utmost authority. “Are you happy now? Satisfied? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO KNOW?”

Joe stood speechless. Lucian walk past Benjamin and Lily and approached him. Both him and Joe stared off at each other, appearing as though neither knew what to say next. Their standstill was only broken when Alice chimed in.

“The Mirror? How?” she asked. Arthur seemed to follow her lead since he too then stood up with his own questions. “Yes, how? Is there a Flame Door here?”

“Yes, a Gateway,” said Lucian plainly, without looking away from Joe. “I’m supposed to open it using the Flame lantern hanging above the door to the hall. The one we used earlier to open my father’s safe,”

“But why you?” Charlotte then asked, to the surprise of Laura. “Lira told me that if the times comes. I will be the only one able to open it. She also told me not to tell any of you…”

“Perhaps for fear of changing the future,” said James whilst looking at the Morrows, his expression was of concern. “Are you both sure this does not seal our fate? If Mr. Morrow and your aunt saw the same thing, surely they would have told us, right?”

“Oh hogwash!” said Willow, who sounded almost insulted. “Perhaps they decided to focus more on the futures where we all follow Lucian here like cattle without question. Perhaps that is what they expect of us,” she said, addressing the entire room. “Perhaps my father did not see a bad outcome where we do not know the truth, but neither me nor Charles see any future where knowing the truth works to our detriment. And besides, any future in which we remain oblivious would’ve been compromised the moment Lucian spilled the truth to Hatly!”

James narrowed his eyes at Willow. But even he seemed to know that it was too late. The truth had come out. And there was no way in which they could take it back. The room fell into silence once more. “What else did my sister tell you?” asked Benjamin.

“Well, she definitely did not tell me how to behave during the ceremony,” said Lucian lightheartedly. He then looked at Joe, who looked conflicted. In Lucian’s eye, Joe had gotten what he had demanded. Yet he still did not seem satisfied. He stared at him coldly.

“I think we’re done here,” he said, to the surprise of Benjamin and Lily. Lucian then turned around faced the door. He saw Laura momentarily reach out to him, but then she took it back and returned to her sullen expression. He noticed Charlotte give her sister a subtle yet obvious frown. But at that moment, Lucian did not want to get involved lest he wanted to stoke the fires even more. He simply turned to the door and walked away slowly, leaving behind a divided room. But at that moment, he didn’t care. In all honesty, he was quite fed-up with them all. Therefore, he simply walked steadily out the door and closed it behind him.

Once he was in the hallway, he took a deep breath. He looked back at the door one more time before turning away and walking down the hallway. But as he walked he got the feeling that something was odd. He looked around but so nothing out of the ordinary at first. But then he realized it. He walked to the end of the hall and peeked over into the lobby. He realized that soldier who had stood there earlier was no longer there. At that moment, he simply assumed that the man had moved on. But it gave him an unnerving feeling for some reason. But as his attention was focused on the now empty lobby he heard a sound come from behind him, the sound of footsteps. He then felt a cold chill run down his spine when he felt a hand grab him by the shoulder.

“AH!” he screamed jerking violently and turning back to face the owner of the hand. But to his surprise, and embarrassment, he realized it was just Lily.

“What were you looking at?” she asked, seemingly concerned by the way Lucian had reacted. “Nothing,” Lucian replied plainly.

Lily smiled smugly, “Well that was quite the display you did. Never thought you had it in you to yell back at Joe,”

“He deserved it; he thinks he can do to me what he likes. Well he is wrong in that regard! I have my dignity,” said Lucian. The very thought of Joe only brought back the memory of him grabbing him by the collar. Lucian couldn’t take such an insult.

“Now that is debatable,” he heard Lily whisper under her breath. “Well at least you proved you can stand up to him,” said Lily examining her fingernails. “But where that dignity of yours lies I think is a different question entirely,”

Lucian sighed and smiled slightly, “Ah, I see. So you’re mad at me for keeping secrets, aren’t you?”

“Mad? Yes. I along with most of the others. Charlotte and the Venshires in particular didn’t take it very well,” she replied in a fast-paced voice, her demeanor slowly shifting away from subtlety and calmness and towards urgency and panic. “But surprised? No. Frankly, I am impressed you managed to keep a secret for this long. But I suppose you were always one for obedience,”

Lucian flinched. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing! It is just that Lira told you not to tell anyone and you abided dutifully. But still, it seems odd to me that you told Laura before everyone else,”

“She pressured me!” Lucian said swiftly. “She was onto me from the start. And I couldn’t escape her mindreading,”

Lucian saw Lily look back towards the hallway. She sighed. “Well, speak of the restless spirits and they shall come forth,”

Lucian raised his eyebrow no confusion. Then he heard more footsteps and moments later, he saw Laura appear from the hallway, staggering towards them with sadness written all over her face.

“Are you alright?” asked Lucian sympathetically.

“Charlie won’t talk to me. She said I betrayed her trust,” said Laura in a depressed voice. She then leaned against a wall and began to sulk. “But it wasn’t your fault,” said Lucian, trying to cheer her up. “I told you not to tell anyone. You were just being a good friend,”

“Well Charlie doesn’t see it that way,” said Laura, whose mood did not improve in the slightest. Lucian frowned sincerely. It was clear his approach was no working.

“Oh don’t worry!” Lily chimed in. “She’ll forgive you eventually,”

“I’m not so sure about that. She thinks I wantonly put her life in danger, and perhaps she is right,”

“Well I wouldn’t fret about that,” Lily said smugly while giving Lucian a side-eye. “I have broken Lucian’s trust more times than I can recall! He always forgave me! If Charlie’s even half as much of an all-forgiving softie like my brother, she’ll forgive before the end of the night!”

Laura tried to hide her chuckles from Lucian. Even then, it was obvious. Lucian’s frown became less sincere when he saw Lily give him a smug smile. He sighed and tried not to take it personally. At least, it cheered up Laura.

Unfortunately, however, such feelings of happiness did not persist. For Lucian heard yet more footsteps. And his eyes widened when he looked behind Laura and onto the hallway, for he saw now saw both Willow and Charles walking towards them. But they seemed more upset than sad. Laura immediately saw them approach, and her expression once again soured. Lily narrowed her eyes nervously, for even she knew something bad was going to happen.

“Uh…Willow. I…” Lucian muttered nervously. But Laura immediately cut him off and gave Willow a look of fury. Willow replied with an equally disgusted look.

“You have a lot of nerve walking here,” said Laura.

“What? Why? I am not allowed to traverse a hallway now?” Willow remarked gesturing to the hallway.

“What do you want now? Haven’t you done enough already, you ease-dropping miscreant?”

Willow covered her mouth and sarcastically imitated an expression of shock, “Why you little…”

“Nothing!” Charles interrupted. He held Willow by the shoulder and stepped in front of her. “We just came here to get away from all the commotion. Joe did not take well to you just leaving like that,” he said looking at Lucian, who shrugged.

“I can see why, he’s probably made everyone think I’m a traitor by now. Yes?”

“Not really,” said Charles. “Bernstein’s arguing in your defense and the Venshires don’t seem too keen as to listen to Angelmore. After all, you gave us the newspaper and Laura helped open your father’s safe, you all can’t be any less trustworthy than the rest of us,”

“Well thank you,” said Lucian. He then looked over to Laura, who was staring at Willow with a deep, hateful gaze. Willow groaned impatiently and nudged Charles. “Well we better get going. You know we have somewhere else to be,”

Charles nodded at Willow. But as his sister dragged him along he also briefly nodded at both Laura and Lucian. Lucian nodded back but Laura didn’t notice. Willow stuck out her tongue at Laura before grinning maliciously, which made her fume furiously. She took out her hand and waved it in the air. Lucian saw one of the small decorative flower vases situated on one of the lobby tables containing a bundle of thorn-less white roses fling forwards into the air and come flying towards Willow. Willow’s grin disappeared as she saw the vase come flying towards her. She glanced at Lucian for a moment before closing her eyes and holding out her hands in a panic. Lucian then panicked as well. He then held out his hand next to Laura. As soon as he did, the vase came to a sudden halt less than a foot away from Willow’s head. A few moments later, Willow opened her eyes and found the vase floating silently in front of her. She sighed, and then looked at Lucian once again.

“Thank you, I knew you wouldn’t let me down!” she said with a smile before walking away again. But Laura wasn’t done. She gasped before looking at Lucian with an expression of betrayal. She then swiftly hit Lucian in the waist with her elbow before he had time to speak. Lucian was pushed to the side and almost fell over. But luckily Lily caught. But in the process of staggering to the side he had put down his hand. Immediately the floating vase once again began to shoot forwards towards Willow.

“No!” said Charles as he saw the vase move, he held his hand out between Willow and the vase. But he tripped over his own shoe and placed is hand too low. It collided with the bottom of the making it fly horizontally with the flowers facing Willow’s head. And as Willow turned her head back in order to react Lucian watched as her face was completely enveloped by the white roses. The force of the vase’s flight was so great that it propelled her towards the wall. Willow reached for the vase and tried to pull it away, Laura then put her hand down and let the vase fall onto Willow’s arms.

Once the vase fell Lucian noticed what it had done to Willow’s face. The roses were crushed and several petals had become stuck in her bush-like hair. Her face had several small patches of dark brown potting soil and some of it had even stained her collar. Charles looked at her with a mix of sympathy, shock and disgust. Willow looked at the vase in her hand before looking at Laura. Her expression a mix of various different emotions.

“Well now we’re settled,” Laura said coldly. “You soiled my name in front of all the others. And now I have soiled you!”

Lucian saw both Lily and Charles try and hide giggles of laughter. And frankly, he too found tried desperately to hide his own amusement. Willow dropped the vase on the ground where it made a light thud as it hit the floor, but didn’t break. She stared at Laura, but then it seemed her attention was diverted towards something else, her eyes moved back and forth as though she was thinking of something. She then simply sighed and said, “Fair enough,” before wiping the soil off her face and gesturing towards Charles. Together both of them then walked away without another word.

“Huh, and you say I’m petty” said Lily, who had witnessed everything that had just transpired.

“Never do that again!” said Laura turning to Lucian suddenly. Lucian took a step back, intimidated by Laura’s furious state. Laura then took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, what is done is done.  I suppose we have no other except to accept it. Hopefully Willow knows what she’s doing,”

“In hindsight, I think she’s right,” said Lucian. “If we all know the truth we can all work together,”

“But if what Mr. and Ms. Morrow saw is true, we might be in a trouble,” Lily interjected.

“Well, there’s no need to worry,” said Lucian calmly, “All of this only matters if what the Morrows saw comes to fruition. Which is unlikely!” he said for he did not want Lily to worry about the same thing he was dreading. But it was clear from Lily’s unconvinced expression that his reassurances had little effect.

“I think I need to go back,” said Laura, now calmer than she was before. “I owe Charlie an apology,”

“Well, hopefully she accepts it. She is your sister after all, she can’t stay angry at you forever,” said Lucian.

“Maybe that was the case with childish quarrels, but as Joe implies, this is life or death,”

“I would not pay attention to everything Joe says. Listen to him for long enough and you’ll eventually want to jump off a building,” said Lucian condescendingly, for he was still salty on the subject of Joe.

Laura laughed before walking away towards the lounge once more. She waved briefly waved at Lucian, and both Lucian and Lily waved back. But once she had disappeared into the depth of the hallway both their gazes feel on the fallen vase. Particularly on the mess of broken petals and soil around it. Both did not want to be the one to clean it up. And Lucian had an idea.

“Where did you say Luin was?”

“I told you I left him with the twins and all other small ones. Well, all except for little Oli Morrow, he wanted to be with his parents, why do you ask?” said Lily, her concentration fixated on the dirt stains on the floor.

“And where do you think he would take them?”

“Hmm, knowing him he probably took them to the library,” said Lily with a scoff.

“Good,” said Lucian with a light nod. He then tightened his collar. “Well, I have something to discuss with him. So I suggest you enjoy cleaning this up,” he then began to swiftly and silently walk away.

It took Lily a few moments to register Lucian’s words, “Wait, what?” she said initially, but then she came to the realization and shouted, “NO! Don’t you dare leave me with this mess!” but by the time she reached in to stop him Lucian had disappeared into another hallway.

Lucian lightly jogged his way to the library. He approached the familiar green and gold doors. And pushed them open. The sound of high-pitched laughter and screaming filled the air around him before he even took a step inside. The tall walls and the arched roof of the library amplified the sound. But among the playful sounds of childish delight was also the sound of annoyed grunting and pleading. Lucian walked towards the open area at the other end of the room and there he found Luin, running around frantically while chasing the twins. Lucian noticed that Luin was missing his glasses, and he found those glasses in Lucy’s hand.

“Give those back, you little thieves,” said Luin lunging towards them. But both Lidian and Lucy evaded him whilst passing the glasses between each other. Luin staggered back and forth, his vision impaired and his fury growing as the twins laughed at his face. Lucian laughed alongside his siblings. He then looked at the rest of the room. He saw that the table in the middle of the open area had been filled with books, and Elliott laid there on his knees reading them with utmost focus. On the other side of the table, he saw Grandfather Wren, sitting his usual chair facing the window. But this time Lucian saw him act rather lively. He then noticed Mabel Venshire and Morgan Bernstein both sitting and standing beside him, looking at him with fascination as he told them a story with more vigor than Lucian had seen in years.

“I told that lazy excuse of a spy that he was most scummy little runt I’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. Then I told him to go sod off like the rest of them! Safe to say my wife was not very pleased. She didn’t even give me any of our shared whiskey that night,” he said gesturing with his hands as the young ones watched in awe with their mouths open.

Finally, Luin seemed to notice Lucian standing next to them. He narrowed his eyes in his direction. “Is that you, Lu?”

“Yes, it is I” said Lucian. “And by the looks of things you seem to be having a bit of problem. The twins then ran over to him and hid behind his back, giggling manically. Luin stood in front of Lucian clawing the air as the twins ran from one side of Lucian’s back to the other.

“YES I DO,” said Luin furiously. “These two frustrating little delinquents won’t give me my glasses back!”

“Well you’re always so pompously over-confident, so why don’t you just take them!” Lucy shouted whist waving the glasses in the air. Luin lunged in her direction but she simply disappeared behind Lucian and evaded him, passing the glasses to Lidian. Luin groan in anger, “Oh gosh damn you both!”

Lucian pitied Luin. Hence, he decided to help. He quickly grabbed Lidian by the collar and grabbed his hand while he was waving the glasses next to his head. Lidian looked at Lucian with surprise, “Lu! What are you doing?”

“Fun’s over, Lid,” Lucian said plainly, “I think you’ve punished your cousin for long enough. Besides, you don’t want him to tell father, do you?”

Lidian went silent. “Alright!” he said letting go of the glasses. Lucian handed them over to Luin, who polished them with his waistcoat before putting them on. He then frowned at the twins. “Shame, he looked like he could use more punishment,” said Lucy.

“No, no. I think you both have done enough,” said Lucian. Lucy and Lidian both stuck their tongues out at Luin before walking away together, searching for something else to do.

“For your information, I could’ve taken more punishment,” said Luin walking back to the table. He then took a seat next to Elliott. “Besides, all this noise was disturbing Elli,” he said whilst looking at the same book alongside Elliott.

“I see you two have gotten along, how surprising,”

“Well I like to think of Elli as my protégé, he’s one of the only people here who has any taste!”

“Well aside from that…” said Lucian who did not want to go off the topic he wished to discuss. “I came here to ask you about that letter,”

Luin blinked several times, confused. His attention still focused on whatever Elliott was reading. “What letter?”

Lucian sighed. “The one we got from my father’s study, remember?”

“Oh that letter!” he exclaimed. “Well I haven’t been able to solve it yet, if that was what you were hoping for,”

“Well why haven’t you? Aren’t the great scholarly know-it-all?”

“Well that’s not exactly high praise coming from you, is it? And even then, solving a code like this isn’t that simple!”

“Well how hard can it be?” asked Lucian, but he meant that as a rhetorical question. Moreover, it had the intended effect of making Luin lose his temper. For he grumbled and reached into his waistcoat where he pulled out a piece of paper, he then showed it to Lucian who knew it to be the code they had copied off his father’s letter.

“You see here,” he said angrily. “This appears to be a simple substitution. Just one symbol for another. But unfortunately, the problem here are the variations,”

“Variations?” asked Lucian, to which Luin nodded. “Of all the codes I’ve read about they always have variations. And looking at this I suspect there are at least twenty five different variations of this,”

“Twenty five?” asked Lucian in shock. “Yes, one for each shift of a letter,”

“Well how long will it take for you to solve it?”

“Hours at the minimum, I still need to figure out how each letter is depicted,” said Luin.

In all honesty, Lucian was not too surprised. Even his parents seemed to have trouble finding an answer so the fact that Luin was finding it difficult was not a shock to him. But yet part of him still had confidence in Luin. However, before he could say anything else. He heard a sounds coming from the other side of the room.

“You two! Over there!” he suddenly heard Grandfather Wren shout. Surprising even Morgan and Mabel. He was pointing his cane at piece of paper that Luin was holding out in the open. Both Lucian and Luin exchanged confused glances.

“Yes, Grandfather?” Lucian asked. He then took the piece of paper and approached him.

“Where did you two youths get your hands on this?” he asked strictly before snapping the paper away from Lucian. He once again looked back and exchanged confused glances with Luin. He then got an idea and turned to his grandfather. “Do you recognize it?”

“Of course I do!” he exclaimed. “What sort of Baron would I be if I didn’t know such trivial things?”

Lucian went silent for a moment, “So…can you read it?”

“Well…no,” said Wren looking at the paper, both Lucian and Luin frowned with disappointment. “It seems that most of this has slipped from my mind. Although I do recognize some things,” said Wren, who couldn’t seem to grasp his own inability to decipher the code.

“What things?” Lucian inquired further, hoping to get something out of this. Wren then pointed to a series of letter and numbers on the paper, characters that read ‘G1G3B2E2D1E3’. “This one,” he said. “I know this word, it’s ‘Guilds’. Yes, I’d recognize that word anywhere,”

“Guilds?” Lucian thought to himself, unable to understand how such a word fit in with the message. Then Wren started telling a story. “You know we had an incident with the Guilds a while back. One of those traitorous little wretches ratted out the Evertons to the Order. Oh, that poor, poor boy Ulysses. Those imbeciles were lucky we didn’t dissolve them all then and there!”

Lucian listened intently to what Wren was saying. But his tale was cut short when Luin walked over and snapped the paper away from Wren. Their grandfather stared at him with a look of disbelief. “Well it seems we’re getting off subject again,” Luin said before making his way back to his side of the table.

Lucian was about to join him when he felt Wren grab the sleeve of his coat. “Who are you, boy?” he asked with narrow eyes. “I’m Lucian, your grandson,” Lucian said kindly and honestly. Wren smiled and almost began to laugh. “Well, young lad. I admit you are quite funny indeed. How can I have a grandson when neither of my sons are even married?”

Lucian saw Morgan and Mabel stare at him with awkward silence. He saw Luin roll his eyes. However, he didn’t care. He simply looked at his grandfather sympathetically before walking away quietly. Wren frowned for a moment, but then returned his attention back to Morgan and Mabel. As though his conversation with Lucian had never happened.

“I still don’t see why you try. You know he’ll never accept it,” said Luin.

“It was worth a try, maybe one of these days…,” said Lucian optimistically.

“Well at least we know one word now. This should make it easier to solve,” said Luin rubbing his forehead while staring at the paper. “Make sure you solve before the others leave. We may not have time to use whatever message we receive by then,” said Lucian, the possibilities of future events played in his head. His worries always drove these hypothetical scenarios to their worst conclusions.

“Why is that?” asked Luin. “Believe me, it is better if you didn’t know,” said Lucian bluntly. Luin seemed to have gotten the hint, for he simply shrugged and went back to studying the paper.

“Well can you at least take these puny scoundrels off my hands; it would make me work faster,”

Lucian grinned, “No, I think you’re working fast enough. Besides, there is somewhere I need to be,”

Luin raised his eyebrow at Lucian. But Lucian just turned away and walked out of the Library, leaving Luin with the small ones. He saw the twins rummaging through a nearby bookcase on his way out, making a small fort out of thick tomes. He dared not disturb them. He closed the Library doors behind him as he went. Afterwards he went back to the lobby where the staircase was located. Once he got there, he found it completely empty. Lily as seemingly left after cleaning the vase from earlier. Lucian took a seat in a nearby table and rested. He wasn’t sure whether it was too soon to do what he was about to do. Therefore, he simply rested for a few minutes. Enjoying the quiet of the lobby for a few minutes. He took a few deep breaths and reclined on this cushioned chair. Then, once his mind had been calmed and a few minutes had passed, he once again got up from his chair and made his way to the lounge again. As he walked down the hallway he expected to hear muffled shouting, bust strangely the entire room seemed to have become silent. He hesitantly placed his hand on the doorknob before taking a deep breath and swinging open the door. He closed his eyes and stepped into the room. But weirdly, he heard no voices. He opened his eyes and realized the room was almost completely empty. With the only occupant being Benjamin, who sat reclined on one of the sofas with his raven Maurice perched on one of his hands.

“Oh, hello there! Didn’t think you’d come back,” said Benjamin rubbing Maurice’s head.

“Where is everyone?” asked Lucian.

“Oh they all left, it seems that no one could stand each other after that argument we all had,” said Benjamin.

“Then why are you here?”

“Figured I’d stay, at least I get to spend some time with Maurice before I have to put him back into his cage,” said Benjamin scratching the raven below the neck. Maurice gave a loud caw the moment Benjamin referred to the cage. Benjamin looked at it sympathetically, “Well I know you don’t like it, but I can’t keep you outside either,” he said as though he were explaining something to an actual person. Lucian meanwhile couldn’t look at Maurice without being viscerally disgusted. Maurice seemed to notice this. It turned its head to Lucian before cawing loudly and flaring its wings. Its cry was so loud it made Lucian jump and it made Benjamin raise an eyebrow.

“Well Maurice wants to tell you that he doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. He doesn’t like you in general it seems,”

“Birds tend to think that about me,” said Lucian, remembering how Lira’s raven also despised him.

“Well at least it’s not as bad as the Hatlys,” said Benjamin.

“What you mean?” asked Lucian curiously. Benjamin winced. “Well Laura tried to apologize to Charlotte; it did not go over well,”

“Well what happened?” asked Lucia now more invested than ever. “Well…Let me just say that was not where the argument ended. Charlotte seems to have drifted over to Joe’s side of the field. Along with the Mornings,”

“What about you?” asked Lucian, taking a seat in a sofa that was perpendicular to Benjamin’s. Benjamin sighed and did not look Lucian in the eye. He then shrugged. “I don’t know. I simply don’t know. You do not seem like a traitor to me,”

“That’s what Charles said,” said Lucian. Benjamin paused for a moment. He then tilted his head and looked at him compassionately.

“You know I will always stand beside you, right? I’ve been standing beside you since…”

“Since that day on the bridge. Yes, I know” said Lucian. There was an awkward silence as Lucian recalled that day, that fateful day in the Baronies that happened all those years ago. The memory had slightly faded, but he remembered standing there, on an ancient stone bridge in the middle of the countryside, watching in horror as Joseph fought for life in the river below. He did not remember how it happened, but he was still feeling the consequences of it.

Maurice the raven leaned on Benjamin’s lap and cooed affectionately. Lucian smiled. Benjamin smiled back. In that moment, Lucian’s mind shone with the glimmer of hope. Despite all the things that had transpired in the past few hours, despite all the worries that plagued him, despite the visions of oncoming doom and death that played in his head, that glimmer of hope persisted.

He thought to himself, “Perhaps we might be alright after all.”

Back to Content- HERE

[sinners-if]

I’m super into fashion and all this talk is super exciting n thought provoking. Considering Grey’s personality, wealth, and the setting… I’d imagine they’d wear something formal or semi formal most days. Blends in w the city better and shows class and their wealth

Probably nothing designer, loud pieces and flashy logos draw too much attention and can be tacky. Maybe old money. Dress shirts and pants you could never guess were made by hand in some foreign European country. Rings with few jewels but impactful in a fist fight. Maybe a necklace or antique watch that while minimal, an expert might be able to recognize a gem or two from some stolen artifact that’s still missing…

If they’re going casual maybe a flowy, loose shirt tucked into waist high pants- swap it out for a fitted turtleneck and necklace in the autumn or winter. Maybe a parka and slimmer pants if it snows or rains.

Everything would most likely be tailored- some trusted source Grey has to both fix their clothing but also dry clean it in case of any messes.

Color wise I think Grey would go for neutrals, white, grey, black, light and dark browns, beige as well. Maybe a pop of color here and there for emphasis but patterns and textures kept to a minimal so they don’t clash. Most color use outside of emphasis are less saturated and more natural so it’d go well w beiges and white.

Depending on the warm/coolness of their skin tone, they might go for white gold or gold for warmer tones and maybe silver and platinum for cooler tones.

Maybe they’d even wear thin metal framed glasses 🤔 … there’s no real thought behind tbh- I just like glasses

(Sorry for the long rant I’m just very enthused😔)

No, don't apologize I really loved the details. You're absolutely correct, they can't get too crazy with fashion purely for the sake of blending in and mobility, but academia makes perfect sense for default!Grey.

RINGS. AESTHETIC. Thats it. That's all I have to say.

[bdbriggs]

Two Truths and a Lie - FAHC

(holy shit guys I wrote a Fake AH Crew fic for the first time since 2020) It was always going to end this way.

The end is the true beginning.

It begins with a card.

 Two truths and a lie. The lie is not the one you expect.

Michael idly flips the card between his fingers. It’s a pretty thing, creamy white with golden script, bright white lace-like designs sprawling across the length of it. Two words on one side: be there. An address, date, and time on the other. What Michael should do is throw the card out and pretend he never saw it, pretend that it got lost in the copious junk mail that plagues his apartment mailbox. He should stay on the far, far side of town on that day and time, avoid sticking his nose into whatever is going on. He should expect that it’s a trap, a setup, a bad fuckin’ idea.

He should do a lot of things. Curiosity and cats, and all that, but here’s the thing; nobody ever remembers the end of that saying. Curiosity killed the cat, yes, but satisfaction brought it back.

Sue him. He’s curious.

And why shouldn’t he be? An inconspicuous little business card lands on his welcome mat. Solicitors leave pamphlets and business cards and shit by his door all the time—this one shouldn’t be special. The golden script, though. That makes him pause. Makes him consider. Makes him weigh his options carefully.

And in the end, there’s really only one thing to do.

See, gold is a recurring theme in Los Santos. It’s nothing out of the ordinary considering the millionaires, billionaires, movie stars, models, gold diggers, yada yada—the city is full of rich folks and folks wanting to be rich. Every third guy on the street has a gold watch. Every other lady has something gold—a ring, a necklace, whatever. Movie stars and gang leaders and girls dressed to the nines—they’re all flaunting golden jewelry, exotic cars, fancy clothes.

So why, then, did the color gold become such a tell in the city’s underground?

Michael can’t pinpoint the moment it started. Spray paint, metal plating, smoke, and ink. Something dripping gold sunk its fingers into the city in a way Michael’s never seen before. And while he hasn’t been in Los Santos overly long, he can tell you it’s not the norm. It wasn’t like this in Liberty City or in Jersey, certainly, and it wasn’t like this when he first arrived in LS. The city was gritty. Grey. The pollution is so thick you can feel it between your teeth, like grit after a fight or soot from an explosion. The cement buildings are grey, grey like the fog over the ocean, like the bleak alleyways and bleaker lives of the average people who live here. The first touch of gold was like a breath of fresh air in comparison.

Something stirs in the city of saints, and Michael wants to be there when it wakes.

 Jack’s cleaning up shop when she sees it. A little white business card, fluttering in the cool breeze provided by one of three fans she’s got spread in her garage. Every time there’s a heat wave, power cuts out in her neighborhood. There’s little to do besides power up the generator, grab a beer, and settle down to work on her cars. Machines are easy. People, less so. It’s for this reason Jack owns a garage—people drive cars, sure, but they don’t pay her to talk. They pay her to fix.

It’s odd, then, when this little white card flutters towards her, skipping along the floor with a bounce in its step that Jack hasn’t seen in years. This city has a way of beating people down. Even the lucky ones like her have fallen on rough times, and the golden script on the card is therefore what catches her attention.

Four words: I have an idea. A location, date, and time on the other side. Jack considers the card carefully before slipping it in the pocket of her shorts.

It’s a bad idea, is what it is. There’s no reason she should go looking for trouble. Times are hard, even for the lucky ones like her. But the gold script gives her pause.

There’s been a shift in the city, these last few years. Jack has lived here long enough to have felt it. It’s no different than a little rolling earthquake; the rolling sensation means it’s far away, but it shifts the ground and everything on top of it. Sometimes things fall, and sometimes the walls or pavement crack, but life goes on around the reminders of that little split-second event.

The evidence remains, however. Something has settled into the city, cracking the pavement and the walls, and slowly the cracks have filled with gold. Kintsugi, it’s called, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. Few people would look at the withered and broken city of saints and deem it worthy of repair, but something has. Gold slithers into the city like snakes, and it leaves its mark on things. An influx of exotic cars. Looser lips at the bar by the racetrack. The wealthy place bets like never before, on cars, on racers, and Jack notices.

If she has a chance to see where all this gold is coming from—why shouldn’t she?

 Jeremy’s lip curls up into a snarl when a waitress brings them a drink with a business card underneath it. She’s already disappeared back into the throng of the club, or they would have called her out on it. Jeremy lifts their beer in one hand and flicks the business card with the other, watching as it twirls away with a flash of gold.

Wait.

Jeremy reaches out with the toe of one boot and slides it back to their chair, picking it up carefully and quickly. The card itself is white with lacy designs spread across it. On one side is a time and location. The other side reads, Nice job out there =) Bored yet?

It draws an honest-to-god snort out of Jeremy. They take a sip from their beer and tuck the card in their pocket.

Not many people know what Jeremy does. Rimmy Tim is a fair bit different from Jeremy, with the wild getup and crazy colors and loud vehicles. Rimmy Tim just finished a job up in Sandy Shores, their fists deployed against a handful of rednecks with guns and drugs. Jeremy, on the other hand, because that’s who they are tonight—Jeremy has a job as a pizza delivery person and two clueless roommates they’re lucky enough to count as friends.

So who in the world figured out that Jeremy is Rimmy Tim, and vice versa?

It should be upsetting. It is, to a degree, but not in the way Jeremy would expect. Whoever sent the business card clearly wants something. The location and time are evidence of that. And Rimmy Tim just had a spectacular time with a drug bust. It’s more than likely that whoever is behind this wants their particular skillset. But why approach Jeremy, when Rimmy Tim is plenty easy to find on the frequent jobs they take? Why go through the effort?

The gold inscription on the card calls to mind a particular golden gun. Rimmy Tim has only seen it a few times, and never the person wielding it. It’s small. Silenced. And the hands holding it never miss a shot. The golden gun means a swift end to whatever opposes it, and not in the way that a bullet means death. No; that golden gun stops gang wars in their tracks, assassinates the most corrupt politicians, brings genuine fear into the eyes of the LSPD.

Jeremy sips their beer and steadies themself. Whoever is behind that golden gun is worth standing beside. Things in Los Santos are about to get interesting.

 Trevor stares slack-jawed at the wallet in his hands. He’s got half a mind to chuck it off the pier and into the waves below, because it’s way too good to be true. Muggings don’t usually score him one thousand dollars. Either his unfortunate victim was loaded, or this is a setup. He shuffles through the bills quickly, and ah-ha! There’s a little white business card nestled between them.

Want more? It says in smooth golden script. The other side simply lists an address along with a date and time.

Trevor definitely should throw the wallet off the pier. He does, upon further consideration, but only after tucking the bills and card into his pocket. He may be an idiot, but he isn’t stupid enough to pass up what appear to be ten real hundred-dollar bills. After a quick scan of his surroundings, Trevor steps back into the crowds and blends right in. His victim is a quarter mile up the beach, and the LSPD have already given up their search for the mugger. Unfortunate, really.

Could his so-called victim have been the person behind the gold and white card? He wasn’t anything special looking. Messy brown hair so light it bordered on dark blonde, expensive sunglasses, nice clothes. One of Los Santos’ elite, or more likely the kid of one of Los Santos’ elite. Some rich shmuck with more money than sense who poked his nose where it didn’t belong. At least, that’s what Trevor understood from looking at the guy, and his intuition is rarely wrong. See, Trevor’s good at figuring people out. He’s good at finding what makes them tick, at learning how they move and act, and he’s even better at using that knowledge against them. Muggings are easy, then; give him a target, and he can have them all figured out after a few hours of observation. This guy was no different.

So why, then, is Trevor so unnerved by the presence of a little white business card?

The golden script gets his brain going. He pulls out the card again and turns it over and over in his hands, studying it. It’s high quality. The golden text is actually engraved into the creamy white paper, and a textured finish has been added overtop the card in a pattern akin to lace. Someone spent a pretty penny to make this card.

Someone with more money than sense.

Trevor considers this. Considers the fact that this job was a setup, and not an ordinary mugging. His judgement of character is rarely wrong—but perhaps he saw what was meant to be seen, and not what was truly there.

He smiles and whistles as he walks back to his apartment. It’s not the end of the world; he’ll just have to get a second look. And he has a convenient little card that gives him such an opportunity.

 Matt is going to scream.

Something’s wrong with his tech. And that’s decidedly not normal. He’s built eighty percent of this stuff himself. He knows his computers and his network better than the back of his hand. Nothing should ever go wrong with it to the point he can’t fix it.

Matt curses under his breath and locks his door. His roommates are home and he’d really rather not have them barge into his, uhm, gaming setup while shit’s going haywire. His lights turn off suddenly, plunging the room into darkness. Matt flicks the switch on and off a few times—no power. And it’s odd, too, because he can hear Jeremy and Trevor playing a video game in the living room. The apartment itself still has power.

It’s just Matt’s setup that doesn’t.

The thought sends an icy chill down his spine. He’s compromised. Someone found his location and managed to out-hack the hacker. Names and faces flit through his mind along with hastily cobbled-together escape plans. Who could have figured him out? Honestly, the weakest links in the chain are his roommates, but he’s been so careful and neither Jeremy nor Trevor have seemed off lately. And they’re perfectly fine in the next room, arguing loudly over Halo.

So who…?

Without warning, the printer comes to life with a godawful clattering sound. Matt shrieks and whirls around to face the offending machine. Fuck, he needs a new printer. If that thing made his whole goddamn side of the apartment short out…

But no, it appears someone is fucking with him after all. The printer happily slops ink on the fake ID he’d been in the middle of designing, spitting the card out with a horrid rattling scream. Matt picks the card up with shaky fingers and flinches when the lights flick on again, allowing him to read what’s been printed.

Lovely little place, it reads in golden ink. The other side lists a day and location.

The computer flickers back to life along with the rest of Matt’s tech. All of his screens should be displaying CCTV footage, but each individual camera’s footage has been replaced with a stylized sunglasses emoji, gold lines stark against a black backdrop.

Matt sits down at his desk and smiles sharply at the screens. Game on, motherfucker.

 Jack scouts the area from her Entity. It’s a nondescript little building up the Great Ocean Highway, well outside of town. She pulls into the nearby gas station at sunset, buys a soda and some snacks, and settles in for a stakeout. She doesn’t plan to go in, but she plans to see who does. She’s got a gun in each of her thigh holsters, a full tank of gas, and a pair of sharp eyes that miss nothing.

The sun sinks below the waves and casts a lovely pink hue across the sky. The light fades slowly to purple, then grey, then the inky blue of night. Stars wink into existence. The time stamped on the white business card in golden script fast approaches, and one man approaches the building across the highway on foot.

 Michael eyes the run-down building by the side of the highway as he approaches. It’s old and worn and grey, and from the looks of it, nobody’s been living or working there for a long while. The windows that aren’t boarded up have been shattered. Headlights from the highway illuminate a sea of glass on the concrete foundation. The back corner of the building is nearty tucked into the hillside with a high concrete wall with thick barbed wire warding off any attempts at break-ins. He can’t see inside, but Michael would bet money that there’s no easy way into that back corner from the inside, either.

And Michael has never been the lockpick kind of guy.

He hefts his rocket launcher with a grin, aims, and fires.

 Matt’s in.

Despite being abandoned for twelve years and eight months, someone has kept a CCTV camera running in a little decrepit building on the coast. The building itself used to belong to some loan servicing company that went out of business. Everything useful seems to have been stolen from the building, according to LSPD reports responding to break-ins. Except—Matt found plans, blueprints for a room in the back of the building. It has no entryway.

Seems like someone had something to hide.

Matt watches the camera like a hawk for days leading up to the date printed on the card. Nothing changes until five minutes prior to the printed time, when an explosion rocks the building and debris tumbles down the hallway. Through the opening provided, a solitary figure slips inside.

 Trevor slinks through the shadows and into the previously sealed room. Someone had blown it open from the far side, causing the rest of the wall to cave in. It allows Trevor to get inside easily. The explosion was a surprise, yes, but Trevor knew there was a possibility of others being here, of this being another part in the setup he’s allowed himself to walk into. The thousand bucks he got the other day will keep him and his roommates fed for several months, easy, but if there’s more…

Well. Trevor knows people. And he knows how to keep them away from his score. Whoever fired the rocket will wait for a response before entering. The woman staking out the place at the gas station has a loud car that he’ll hear long before it approaches his position. And the buff guy with the gun and parachute backpack crouched high on the hillside above will have to get past both of them in order to get down here. Unless—unless they’re teamed up. Shit.

A thump on the roof has Trevor regretting every decision that led him here. He pulls out his pistol and backs himself into a corner, surveying the room around him. Nothing stands out, no briefcase, no vault, no treasure. Nothing to hide behind. He grits his teeth and flicks off the safety.

 Jeremy’s pretty sure they’ve got about thirty seconds before the guy with the rocket launcher reaches the building. So, they do the most stupid thing and jump in ahead of him, hoping to secure whatever’s in the sealed room and make a stand inside. Maybe not the brightest idea when they’re up against a rocket launcher, but they’re banking on the hope that rocket-launcher-guy wants this score as badly as they do. Jeremy dives into the room and eats a bullet with their vest.

“Oh, ass!” Jeremy shrieks. They scramble further into the room, away from rocket-launcher-guy, only to roll out of the way of a second shot. Fuck, oh fuck, the gunman is inside the room!

An engine roars. Heavy footfalls in the rubble outside draw closer, closer, and Jeremy swallows thickly. Rocket-launcher-guy comes into view with his own gun in hand, and while it briefly points at Jeremy, it quickly trains on the gunman further in the room.

Fuck. Jeremy whips out their own pistol and points it at the gunman, wincing at the realization that a CCTV camera is pointed directly at the commotion. Not only that, but there are more footsteps making their way through the building.

Oh, they are so fucked.

 Jack’s glad she brought multiple guns. She trains one on the tall and thin gunman in the corner of the room, and one on the garishly colored guy crouched in the rubble to her right. The man who’d blown the building open snarls at her, and aww, isn’t that cute?

“What the fuck is going on here?” Jack demands. “What’s the big idea?”

The gunman in the corner shrinks in on himself. Poor guy has three guns trained on him at the moment. Jack doesn’t envy him.

“Fuck!” the guy blurts. “I came for the score! Jesus Christ, you guys can have it!”

The gunman to Jack’s right freezes. “I’m sorry, Trevor?!”

Trevor, if that’s his name, points his gun at the walking fashion disaster. “Jeremy?” he demands.

As if by some unspoken agreement, both of them move. Trevor points his gun at Jack; Jeremy points their gun at rocket-launcher-guy.

“Dude,” rocket-launcher-guy says. “Which of you told me to be here? This is confusing as fuck.”

Nobody answers.

Rocket-launcher-guy does a double take. “Wait, seriously? Then who the fuck was it?”

“Wasn’t me,” Jeremy says. “But I bet you it’s whoever is watching through the CCTV camera.”

Jack looks over her shoulder and, sure enough, there’s a camera pointed right at them. Shit.

“Nope,” a distorted male voice says through whatever shitty intercom system was left in the building. “I also would like to know what the hell is going on.”

Jack lowers her guns. “Did none of you send the business card?”

Rocket-launcher-guy lowers his own gun and fishes a white card out of his jacket pocket. “Not me,” he says.

Jeremy and Trevor lower their guns and pull out their own white cards.

“I got one, too,” the guy on the intercom says. “Someone used my printer to print it out.”

Jack holsters her guns and frowns. “What was the score, anyways?”

Trevor shrugs. “I dunno,” he admits. “I mugged a guy with a grand in his wallet, plus the card. I figured there’d be money in this place.”

Jack fishes out her own card and shows it to them. “That’s not what mine said.”

Rocket-launcher-guy crosses his arms. “So there’s nothing here? Well, that fuckin’ blows.”

“Aww, Michael,” a new voice coos. Jack whirls around and has both guns up and aimed at the newcomer before he can blink. “I wouldn’t say there’s nothing.”

Jack hears the sounds of guns being raised behind her, but the newcomer seems completely unintimidated. He leans back against the wall of the hallway, arms crossed loosely over his chest, smirk on his face. He’s got messy brown hair, a blue dress shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He’d look completely uninteresting if not for the golden sunglasses, the golden gun holstered at his hip, the golden watch on one wrist.

“You’re the guy I mugged,” Trevor says. “Who the hell are you? And what do you want?”

The golden boy grins. “I had this idea,” he says. “There’s this lovely little place that’s never successfully been broken into. I’ve robbed every other bank in the city. I’m bored. I want more. And I need a crew if I’m going to pull this off.” His grin turns sharp, menacing. “Will you be there?”

 Los Santos has a way of beating even the most stubborn and resilient of its citizens down. It’s easy to get lost in the grit and grey of the city, what with the pollution and fog and bleak concrete everywhere you look. But something, someone, looked at the city and saw an opportunity. A fresh start.

The end is the true beginning. And it was always going to end this way.

 The true beginning, then, was not with the card.

[full---ofstarlight]

All evens for gale and his beautiful wife :3c

LMAO THANK YOU THIS IS GREAT <3

2. Do they have a dynamic trope? (enemies to lovers, sunshine x grumpy, etc?)

Mutual pining, mutual pining, mutual pining bayyyybee. Also my unpopular opinion is that I usually prefer couples who are similar, which is apparently “Birds of a Feather” in TV tropes language, and I think well done they’re more satisfying than Opposites Attract.

4. Answered!

6. Do they go out often or prefer to stay indoors?

Gale’s probably more of a homebody than Delvyre, but also a year of self-isolation means he’s a bit restless for social events. Then again, their time on the road I think has earned them some rest and relaxation. 

8. Do they have any favorite activities to do together?

Magic — studying it, researching it, testing it out. They’re a powerhouse. I also think they enjoy, like, live theater and shows. Also if that High Rollers stream solidified anything for me, it’s that they both enjoy getting pampered, so spa days/bath days are common. 

10. Answered!

12. Who gets up the earliest? Who has the worst sleep schedule? Who is the sleepiest?

They’re both night owls who like to sleep in. I do think Del’s sleep schedule is less organized though. So on a rare occasion, she might actually get up early. But Gale is not up before 10 am if he doesn’t have to be (and usually Delvyre sleeps in too). They also both go to bed like past midnight for sure. 

14. Who does fashion shows after a mall trip and who watches and compliments them?

Both <3 <3 They like to look good. Gale spends more time in the shoe store.

16. Answered,

18. What does a date night out look like for them?

Going to a live performance of some sorts, or a lecture series, or a museum. And then to a nice restaurant, where they can discuss what they just saw/learned and sample good food and wine. 

20. What clothes/accessories do they steal from each other?

Jewelry, for sure. They’re both little magpies, and love shiny rings and earrings and necklaces and what not. Delvyre favors gold and Gale favors silver though. Also, Del probably steals his bigger robes and snuggles with them. 

22. How do they apologize after arguments?

Del will get very very passionately mad (insert that parks and rec scene where ben is like arguing with you is like arguing with the sun), but once all the anger is out of her, she’ll try to apologize right away and make things better. I think Gale isn’t as explosive, but he’ll need some more time to cool off/process his feelings. Earlier on, before they get the handle of, like, being in a relationship, I think he tries to smooth things over right away but that just kinda makes his annoyances fester a bit, so they both learn together how to apologize the way that makes the other feel heard. 

24. What are their favorite places to kiss on their partner(s)? What are their favorite types of kisses?

Gale likes kissing her neck and cheek and forehead :3. Del likes kissing his shoulder and chest (right where the orb mark is). Also not really a kiss, but she enjoys torturing him with raspberries on his stomach which he pretends to hate, but is reduced to a fit of giggles. 

26. Do they have any pets or kids?

Eventually have a couple of kids - probably two or three? They are very indulgent parents who think their kids are the most special amazing talented kids ever. Tara also eventually has a brood of Tressym kitties, which eventually become companions to their kids <3 

28. What’s something that reminds them of their partner(s)? Do they have anything on them daily as a reminder (a photo, phone background, tattoo, clothing/accessory, etc)?

Look, I gave them the matching true love rings you find on some corpses in Act 2, and they are never ever taking them off <3 Probably have something matching. Del probably gets some sort of tattoo to symbolize their relationship eventually (some fire and ice combo thing idk a rune or something). 

30. Free space! Say something about this ship that you want to say!

FREE SPACE! Okay rapid fire random things:

My height hcs: She’s 5’3, he’s 5’10 

Modern AU thoughts: He’s a professor who keeps getting denied tenure bc his ex is the head of the department; she’s a grad student but not his student, just in adjacent studies. 

….and to end on a lil nsfw bit: He likes to watch, she likes to put on a show ;)

[inamindfarfaraway]

My Bluey OC

Name

Whitney Ward.

Gender

Female.

Breed

Komondor.

Appearance

Whitney is a tall, chubby Komondor puppy with great natural strength, brown eyes, and soft, pure white fur grown out long and matted into her breed’s iconic dense dreadlocks. She wears decorative gold rings on the ones on her head and a black cord necklace with a red chewable bone-shaped pendant. Being autistic and nonverbal, she communicates through sounds, body language and typing and clicking pictures on an AAC app on her tablet, which has a red case; she can take time to find the right words, both in her head and on her tablet’s system. She may also wear red noise-cancelling headphones to cope with her hypersensitive hearing.

Age

Seven.

Backstory

Her mother Opal holds a senior position in a sewage treatment plant. Her father Sugar is a speech therapist who’s worked part-time primarily online from home since Whitney was born. They’re both deeply loving and do their best to provide her with a safe, comfortable physical and emotional environment that she can thrive in. The family uses a lot of shorthands to help Whitney get her points across easier.

For the last year and a half, she was in the special needs class of a local normal school. She was insufficiently accommodated, bullied and unfairly blamed by teachers there. When her parents realized what was going on, they were horrified and transferred her to Glasshouse Primary School. She’s doing much better there and has made new friends in Calypso’s class. Sugar and Opal are debating moving in the future to be closer to the school and its other students’ neighbourhood, but don’t want the massive change to distress Whitney, guilty about letting her suffer so much already.

Personality

Whitney is patient, observant, thoughtful and careful. She’s had to learn to be, with her developmental delays in speech and to an extent mental processing and reading usually making her take longer to do things than her peers. At her old school, she was left out and behind a lot and got used to entertaining herself. She’s analytically, strategically intelligent, but doesn’t do well academically. She has a strong sense of justice and believes that doing a bad thing always deserves punishment, struggling to apply this concept with nuance and in degrees. She prefers to wait, think carefully and try to look at the bigger picture and disapproves of others acting rashly. But once she’s sure she’s assessed a situation correctly, she will be very confident, stubborn and even self-righteous in her course of action.

She likes rules and is highly organized and dutiful. She genuinely doesn’t understand mischief, how getting in trouble or annoying adults, outside of mild teasing in contexts known to be completely safe like her family dynamic, could be fun. It certainly wasn’t at her old school, and she wasn’t even doing it on purpose. She spends most of her time and energy just trying to do things right. She has an instinctive respect for and trust in authority figures and institutions. After all, people wouldn’t be in charge for bad reasons, would they? That would mean that the whole system worked badly! And that would be stupid. This is part of why it took so long for her parents to figure out that her old school was one such bad system - Whitney assumed her teachers were right about her deserving her treatment and didn’t want to complain, on top of communication being practically difficult. Now she’s slowly building up her sense of unconditional self-worth and beginning to understand that adults can be downright wrong and cruel.

Her special interests are the Caprinae subfamily of sheep and goats, water supply systems and the properties and care of all different types of dog fur, inspired by wool and the Komondor breed’s often remarked-upon unique fur. She loves to watch herds of sheep and a fluffy toy Suffolk sheep called Cotton is her comfort object. The textures of wool and many other types of hair are extremely pleasant to her. She loves to play hairdresser, sheepdog, security guard and army. She stims by fiddling with her hair and even hides her face in her cords when anxious or upset. She’s also in the habit of lightly flicking and slapping people with them, either playfully as a physical form of teasing or to make them leave her alone or respect her personal space, especially if she’s stressed. She’s starting to pick up a hobby of photography too, taking pictures with her tablet.

She’s very protective of her friends, afraid of losing them after finally getting them, and possessions, and concern for them is basically the only thing besides fear and pain that can make her be impulsive and careless. She doesn’t like sharing her things. As words can be hard for her, she prefers to express her care through actions. Her good friends are Honey, Jack, Rusty and Mackenzie. She likes Bluey, Snickers and Coco, but their energy can be overwhelming and hard to keep up with sometimes.

Other Notes

She likes to playfight with her parents and friends. She’s occasionally too rough and is working on identifying cues that the other person isn’t having fun anymore. 

She has a restricted diet and strong sensitivity to mouthfeel. She mainly eats rice, bread, pasta, noodles, meat and seafood, dislikes spice and sourness and has vitamins more than vegetables. She likes chewy foods and her favourite foods are beef jerky and Choo Choo Bars, as chewing is one of her stims (she used to chew her dreadlocks before getting her necklace). Sugar, befitting his name, loves sweet flavours and eats more confectionery than her.

One Ward family shorthand is “sewage treatment” or ST for a difficult, even downright unpleasant, but necessary and ultimately beneficial task, based on Opal explaining her work and its importance to Whitney. The parents doing housework? ST. Whitney learning a hard new word on her AAC app that will help her express herself better? ST. Her meeting neurotypical social norms like eye contact or not stimming or using sensory accommodations? Not ST. If there’s no good reason behind it, if it doesn’t help anybody, if it’s painful or too uncomfortable or draining to worth Whitney’s while, it is just sewage. That means it needs to be avoided for the sake of her health. Her parents are strong advocates of every child being taught and enabled to recognize the difference between ST and sewage types of demands made of them, particularly those who are communication-impaired and therefore easy to bully and take advantage of. 

Her interschool buddy in Mia and Captain’s class is a twelve-year-old Yorkshire Terrier girl named Claire. Claire is kind, generous, extroverted, optimistic, fearless and talkative. She’s used to her small size not always being accommodated for, and has even been teased for it, so she’s fiercely protective of her little buddy (who happens to be physically bigger than her). Whitney likes to listen to her talk and stroke her silky fur.

Red is her favourite colour. As she grows older and more mature, she takes to wearing the fur cords on her head up in a ponytail in a red scrunchie.

[smol-feralgremlin]

FebruarOC Day 3: Chanri

Chanri leaned against the inside of the doorway to the study, feeling the carved relief of twining vines pressing into his shoulder as he watched Ilia move around his study, wiggling his fingers as he looked over the towering bookshelves. Many of the books he appeared to be looking at were ones that he’d restored. Chanri remembered most of them as fragile and crumbling texts that Ilia had guarded fiercely after pulling them out of long forgotten places. Now they weren’t so fragile with new covers of dyed leathers and recopied pages.

“Are you certain of these plans of yours,” Chanri asked as Ilia muttered a few words and one of the books from a higher shelf floated down to him. 

“I’m certain of nothing,” Ilia replied as he carried the book, more of a thick tome than a normal sized book, to his desk. He waved his hand at the window while muttering another sentence to himself and the curtains opened to allow sunlight to flood in. “That way I can’t be surprised by anything that falls outside of certainty.”

“Don’t repeat my lessons back to me, whelp. I’ll toss you around a ring the same way I did when you were just a boy.”

“And I’ll just have to reintroduce you to dangling over my head again.”

Chanri snorted and Ilia looked up with a slight grin. All composure broke and Chanri had an answering grin of his own before he shook his head to regain it all back again. Damn was it hard to be stoic when he wanted to keep Ilia here in Yorica where he could keep an eye on him. The tall collar necklace of gold and mother of pearl Ilia wore rankled at Chanri. He hadn’t been there to protect Ilia from the wound he’d received that had caused him to start wearing such jewellery. Instead he’d been in here making sure any and all coup attempts were foiled before they got too much support from even the more passive of this pit of vipers Ilia called a court.

“I still don’t like you going off without me.”

“I’m long past my twentieth summer, Chanri.”

Right. He had been an adult according to Yorican customs for a few years now. But Chanri still saw the boy he had been when they’d met. All wide eyes, messy hair, and gangling limbs that only seemed to coordinate on accident instead of through any purposeful will. The boy was still there, locked behind numerous scars and shadowed eyes, only to come out on rare moments. This wasn’t one of those moments. As proud as Chanri was of Ilia, he still held bitterness for the world that had forced him into the serious young man he was now.

“Here.” Ilia spun the book so Chanri could read where he’d flipped the pages to. He tapped the left page. “This is the answer to a lot of my problems right now, I’m sure of it.”

Reading over the page quickly, Chanri frowned. This was the sort of thing Ilia was crawling through ruins for? Tales of the Fae Folk?

“I don’t think I understand.”

Ilia sighed as he sat back down in his chair. “Wildlings, Chanri. One human parent and one Fae parent. They’re supposed to be as connected to the land as their Fae parent, but not so bound by the rules that govern Fae behaviour.”

“You think there’s one of these Wildlings in Elsienfal,” Chanri asked, more than a little skeptical.

“I know there’s one there.” Ilia stood up abruptly and stalked to the window. “Everyone wants me to marry, then fine. I’ll marry.” He turned his head to Chanri. “King Hasryn oldest unmarried daughter happens to be illegitimate with an unknown mother. So I’ll be going to Elsienfal to end this war between our two countries and see if I can’t manage a betrothal while I’m over there.”

Chanri knew that spark in Ilia’s eyes. He wouldn’t be dissuaded from his plans now. 

“If she’s half as troublesome as you, I’m quitting.”

Ilia laughed for the first time in days.

[redwayfarers]

wip whenever

i was tagged by @thevikingwoman, thank you friend! i am back into my wayfarer brainrot and i'm finishing up my ties that sever series. i may have yelled abt this with friends in dms but here's a little sneak peak into the despina* chapter, finally!

*despina being cass' older sister.

When you grow up around these things, it’s easy for one face to replace another. I vividly remember the few events I was invited to as a kid; I was told to not speak to people, to just nod along to whatever they’re saying and sit in the corner, a child-shaped statue. I wasn’t to embarrass the family, Aiantes said.  So they got me all dressed up, in one of those child appropriate versions of adult serithans, and styled my hair out of the way. A curl or three would inevitably slip, even if the hands that had braided them were very good, and I remember Theokleia staring me down. We have the same hair, my mother and I. I knew her hair wasn’t as flawless as she’d pretended it was.  She never forgave me for that. And many other things, but the knowledge that the same trait that gave us both a sharp, prominent nose also gave us the same coarse curls was like a cherry on top of a cake of hatred. Her makeup was always well done, gold like her eyes. Her nails were long and pretty, painted to match her serithan. She always wore gold jewelry, rings, necklaces, earrings.  And me? Gold dangled off of me in much the same way, mismatched and too grown up. The nails were a little too much, but I was allowed a dash of white every now and then. And so we’d pose, my mother and I, show the world my health is just fine for the moment, and I’d be carted off to a seat in the back, with my back ramrod straight, mindful for any movement, sound, word.  Aiantes wore luxury more effortlessly than his wife. The simple styles of the Vestran elite suited him better than they did Theokleia; they made him look graceful, pristine. Yet he too was dissatisfied; he was rarely allowed to be an eyesore he wanted to be, in bright colors. Too Arathian, I heard him mumble under his breath. Too much, too foreign, too extreme. But he watched turquoise cloth with barely restrained yearning.

tagging: @astraphone, @irisopranta, @impossible-rat-babies, @scionshtola, @roguelioness and @galadae!!!! and everyone else who wants to do this, feel free to tag me obvs <3

[rowan-sins]

𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖕 𝖋𝖔𝖗 @fijiflower​

𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖕 (4) 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 (10)

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖊 (6) 𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖙𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙

This world is new to you, the islands, the waves, the breeze in your hair. It’s all foreign. But the sun shines so bright from between the leaves of Nami’s tangerine tree. They light up your face, her face, as you both lounge quietly in the afternoon on the going sunny.

She’s smart and savvy, and the both of you click together immediately. Did you meet because she had the gutsiness to steal your wallet, and you had the grit to chase her back for it? Maybe. But it was truly love at first sight on that dock. She proposed a game to win your wallet back, and when you just snatched it straight out of her hand mid-sentence, she knew that she needed more of you in her life.

You both share a common love for the nice things in life. Money, shopping, being served bubbly beverages by a certain blond tripping over you. At the core, you’re both incredibly similar souls. And friendship, that’s such an important thing to the both of you. Above all else you’d do anything for your friends, for her friends, as you join her family and become their nakama as well.

You share mischievous grins before sneaking off the One Thousand Sunny to go shopping, or before sneaking into the kitchen for a second helping of breakfast (that marmalade was so good, you can’t help but want a little bit extra on that freshly sliced sourdough… and maybe an egg too). You help her do her hair in the morning, and design fun dresses for her to wear, and she makes maps that lead you to the most scenic sunsets (“Oh would you look at that!” she exclaims with joy, “there’s already a picnic basket for the two of us.” You can’t help the laugh you let out at that, Nami, forever your love, trying to act like she didn’t plan this.)

Ask her to steal for you. Please ask her to steal for you. Her fingers are itching for matching diamond rings and gold necklaces and pearl strings longer than your wing-span. She has a treasure chest of jewelry, that she shares with you, and only you. (“You look good in that necklace! Where’d you find it?” She’ll ask, knowing full well you snatched it off her dresser this morning. You kiss her cheek as you slink by, and watch her melt into the railing of the ship. “Where I find the rest of my jewelry,” you throw over your shoulder before slide through the gap of the door into the kitchen.)

The two of you click together, like gears in a clock, or the lid on a bottle. You match like two pairs of socks and if people couldn’t see the mutual longing in your eyes for each other, than they would think your twins, or two halves of the same, very strong beautiful person. But her hand on your shoulder, well manicured nails almost digging into the soft skin tell the story well enough itself, they’re mine back off!