#no one ever said anything to her face it was a ton of -respectful- looking

[i-dont-know-nor-care-go-away]

So pike is in his fifties and his actor is 51

Una is at least in her later forties, assuming star fleet academy is 4 years and she joined at 18, plus 25 years of service as mentioned in her trial. Her actress is 51

Why is pike fully grey and Una has not a single Grey hair on her head? I know she's Illyrian but I don't care.

I want to see aging women. Give my queen grey streaks. She puts up with so much bullshit. Why can pike have his tall ass completely silver hair but Una can't even have a streak??

This is purely out of righteous anger and not bc of my huge crush on Una. Me??? Liking older women??? You're crazy

[back2bluesidex]

Oh So Reluctant 2 - PJM (18+)

Pairing: Husband!Jimin X Wife!Reader

Theme: Angst, SMUT, little fluff, Arrange marriage au. Majorly Jimin's POV.

Summary: For the past eleven months that you have been married to Park Jimin, he has not looked at you the way he has been doing today. And there is sinister in his eyes.

Word count: 2367

Warnings: Angst, unhappy married life, Jimin struggles with his feelings, he tries to keep himself sane, jealous jimin, unprotected sex (stay safe), swearing.

Minors are NOT welcomed in this blog!!

A/N: This story was requested by lovely @chimmy-licious. This is the second and last part of the two-shot. Hope you all like it.

Part 1

If there is anything that Jimin has learned in his 29 years of life then it’s the fact that nothing lasts forever. When he was merely 18 years old, his father divorced his mother and shifted to the states. That’s the first event to break his concept of “happily ever after”. He always thought his parents got well together. They weren’t a lovey-dovey couple but they knew how to spend days and nights with each other without having random fallouts. But he was wrong. He probably never understood that what he thought was peace is actually the lack of communication. 

When Jimin was 22, he had his first real break up. He was in love with this girl and the moment she said she wanted to end it all, he felt as if his carefully constructed sand castle was crumbling down.  And this was the second time he realized nothing actually lasts forever. 

But he was still quite cheerful about his life. He had a ton of friends, went partying with them and led a prosperous life, thanks to his mom. And then came his 25th year and everything turned upside down. His best friend cum colleague betrayed him in the most unbelievable way. 

That guy, named Sung Kwon, was accused of recruiting trainees in exchange for money. When the company ran an investigation on him, he blamed it all on Jimin. Jimin, who knew none of it, felt his vision turning dark and his wit getting lost. Even though further investigation proved Jimin innocent, he already faced all the emotional damage he could. He then promised himself that he would never ever get attached to anyone ever again. And he kept his word by drawing himself in working and achieving new heights ever so often. 

He has had random hook-ups, one night stands, some acquaintances to drink with, some people to check up on him, but he never got close to anyone any more. That is why when his mother proposed to him to get married, he revolted. He couldn’t even think of getting into an active relationship and marriage? That was impossible for him to accept. However, in the end his mother won. He couldn’t reject her anymore given the fact that the lady had gone the extra mile to provide for him after his father left. 

When he met you for the first and only time before the wedding, he cleared it up that marriage is his mother’s wish, not his. You made a good impression on him that day. You didn’t seem to be the clingy type or the curious type. You were rather composed and listened carefully to what he had to say. So, he concluded you would respect his space after marriage. 

And you did, but not always. For the first six months you tried to get closer to him, which made him quite uncomfortable. You cooked dinners, planned dates, gave him meaningful gifts but he only felt guilt. Guilt of not feeling enough to do the same for you. Most of your interactions were awkward and your eyes would turn gloomy whenever there was a failed attempt of getting to know him more. And then you eventually stopped. You stopped trying anything at all. 

Suddenly there were no cooked dinners to come home to, no movie nights to understand each other’s movie preferences, no little gifts to look forward to. Only then Jimin understood he got used to it all. 

For the first six months, if Jimin felt anything for you then it was sexual desire. I mean, you are very attractive and sexy and he is a man with a dick, which obviously twitches seeing you in flimsy camisoles and shorts (even though you two don’t share a room). Nevertheless, when you stopped trying, he missed more than just your sexy body. He missed your face, your voice, your smile, your warmth and you. But his ego and cold nature never allowed him to approach you and he stayed holed up in his own space, lonely and guilty. 

Just a week ago you asked him to attend your company’s event with you. He was internally happy to have you finally talk to him but he was scared that he is getting attached to an almost stranger again. So he said no. He lied. He said he had a press conference to attend, while he had no important schedule that day. He could clearly see the way your eyes started glistening right away. His heart dropped. 

After a continuous battle with himself, he finally decided to give it a try. He decided to give you and this relationship a chance. He decided to talk to you about starting to take things slow rather than jumping into promises of forever. And the very first step of doing so was attending that event. 

He intentionally got late to make it seem like his claim of having this nonexistent press conference was true. He styled himself well, asked a hairstylist to do his hair and drowned himself in his favorite perfume only to find you wrapped around another man’s arm while talking about divorcing him. He saw red. He quickly understood that he is jealous as well as scared of the prospect of losing you. Fuck! He was already attached to you. 

“Who was that guy? Your ex?” his mouth runs on its own accord. 

“No. He can be my future though.” You reply calmly, as if it’s not a big deal to leave your husband behind for another man. 

“What makes you think I will let you go so easily?” Jimin confronts you and himself at the same time. 

“Your reluctance towards my existence?” So this is what he had made you believe? You think he is reluctant towards you when he is always hyper aware of your presence? No. This is not right. So he clarifies himself, “I am not reluctant towards you, Y/N. I am rather very much aware.” Jimin raises his voice a bit as if to emphasize his statement.  

“Aware of how much you don’t want me in your life?” If you asked him this question within the first six months of your marriage, he would have said yes. But he doesn’t feel the same anymore. 

“No! Quite the opposite actually.” he replies. 

That makes you take a look at him, as he already stares at you. You cock your eyebrow as if to ask for an explanation. When your eyes bore into Jimin’s, he finds himself getting entangled within his inner conflict. How should he explain what he feels for you? He knows he is attracted but is that enough to keep you in this worthless marriage? Will you even consider his feelings after the way he treated you? So he does what he feels like the best option. He changes the subject. 

“You look very… beautiful tonight.” Jimin doesn’t lie when he compliments you. You are obviously very beautiful but tonight your beauty is just overshadowing everything. He rakes his eyes through your body. Your exposed cleavage makes him want to bury his head on your chest, taste your skin and mark you as his, only his. 

You cross your legs and expose more of your skin as you catch him staring shamelessly. 

He smirks. One of his hands reaches to grab the supple flesh of your thigh harshly. You almost spit your drink out. 

“Don’t tease me, Y/N. I have been having a tough time controlling myself for these eleven months already.” Jimin’s voice drops down a few octaves. He is getting horny already. He knows it’s not right. He knows you two need to talk before getting into bed with each other but how can he keep himself sane when you look like this? His thumb draws invisible circles on your thigh. 

Your eyes widen as you try to play innocent, “What do you mean?” 

Jimin’s fingers glide higher on your smooth skin and it reaches where he has only imagined his fingers before. 

His digits hover above your mound as he mouths, “Let me show you what I mean.”

You seem to contemplate what he just said for a couple of moments but then you swat his hand away from your body. Jimin thought he finally got you under his spell but his confidence lowered the moment you declined his advances.

“If you think you can win me over with sex after making it clear that you don’t want me in your life, then… you are wrong, Jimin.” Your words are followed with a sigh. Jimin removes his hands from your thigh as he reflects on his choice of action. This is not what he wanted but he fucked up anyway. 

Just when he is about to apologize, he gets interrupted by that same guy from earlier. 

“Y/N, Mr. Choi wants to congratulate you. Could you spare me a minute?” The guy questions looming awfully closer to your body. 

“Sure, Taehyung.” You smile sweetly at him and Jimin feels himself turning green yet again. 

You walk away with this taehyung guy as his hand stays on the small of your back. Jimin glares at the sight. 

“Can I get you something, sir?” the bartender diverts Jimin’s attention. 

“A dirty martini, please.” he says briefly as his eyes remain only on your figure.   

This Taehyung guy is sly, he is on a mission of stealing you away from Jimin, that’s what Jimin concludes upon seeing Taehyung getting all cozy with you. But what bothers him more is that you don’t appear to be uncomfortable with any of it. 

Jimin takes a large sip of his drink as he observes you. Your body slots perfectly in Taehyung arms as you two talk to whom he assumes a stakeholder. Taehyung says something in your ear and you roll your eyes at him. Then he takes you towards the dance floor and you give him one of your blinding smiles. 

Jimin’s stomach feels funny, his heart tightens around his chest as he sees you swinging your body rhythmically with Taehyung’s. He places both of his hands on your waist and Jimin’s hold on his glass goes tighter.

You two look like a lovey-dovey couple when the truth is that he is your husband and he is sitting here alone watching you. The urge of claiming you overpowers his rationality as he finds himself leaving the barstool and walking towards you.  

“Let’s go home. It’s quite late already.” Jimin says a bit loudly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn to look at him with an unreadable expression. 

“I don’t wan-” You start but he cuts you off.

“We need to talk, Y/N. Please.” 

You nod at him defeatedly. 

He waits in his car while you bid goodbye to your colleagues. 

“Are you really planning on divorcing me?” Jimin questions you as he drives towards home. 

“If that’s what makes both of us happy and less burdened, then yes.” you seem to choose your words carefully, as if you have given this subject a thousand thoughts. 

“I- I don’t want so. I wanna give this a try. Give us a try.” Jimin’s voice trembles a bit. 

You look at him, “I understand if you are feeling overwhelmed after seeing your married wife with another guy. It’s not what you think it is, Jimin. You just feel possessive because I wear a ring of your name, not because you feel something for me.” 

“No, Y/N. I know myself. I know what I feel and what I don’t. And I-” he gulps, “I think I developed some feelings for you.”  

“Jimin, you are mistaken.” you try to reason. 

“I never felt this much jealousy in my entire life. I was not only possessive but I am still very much jealous because that guy knows how to make you smile and make you feel comfortable around himself and I don’t. I hate myself for that. I am your fucking husband and I can’t even make you smile!” Jimin scolds himself. 

“You never tried. I am sure you would have succeeded if you at least tried.” Your eyes drop down on your lap. Jimin knows you are teary. 

“I am sorry. I am so fucking sorry, Y/N. I will try. Give me a chance. I will try my best to push away all of the insecurities and be there as your husband. A husband that you deserve.”  

You don’t reply but Jimin hears a faint sniffling sound.

“You will give me a chance right?” he pesses on. 

“Well I guess it’s not too late.” You reply, finally smiling at him through tears. 

“Do you even have any idea how I felt when I saw his hands grazing you in places I never did?” Jimin’s breathy voice fans over your mouth as he pounds into you restlessly. His hold on your thigh goes tighter, making his nails dig into your flesh.  

“How did you feel?” you place your question, grabbing Jimin’s shoulder for your dear life. 

“I felt like dragging you off the dancefloor and fucking you on the bartop for everyone to see. Everyone should know you are mine. Right?” he bites on your collarbone and earns a whimper from you. But you don’t provide him with the answer he is looking for. 

He slaps harshly on your naked butt while pressing you more on the glass window of his bedroom. 

“Fuck. yes. Yes! I am yours, only yours. Fuck-” You feel yourself getting closer to a dizzying orgasm. “I’m close.” 

“Me too. Hold on a bit more, baby. Let’s finish together.” Jimin’s hand leaves your thigh alone as it flies towards your cunt. His fingers start abusing your clit and send you over the edge.

“Jimin, I- I can’t-” You pant hard. 

“Cum now.” Jimin commands and you comply. You cum on his cock as he spills his white hotness inside you. 

You two come down from your high connecting your foreheads together. 

“So… Do you still want to divorce me?” Jimin chuckles at your ruined state. 

“Absolutely not.” you reply, pulling him down for a kiss as if to seal your fate together.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @whipwhoops @cherrypopthatbean

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

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a/n: i'm so sorry for the delay in this. i was in spain this past month, and then i was finishing out my classes before i graduate!!! i am graduating this next Saturday with my bachelors which is crazy. and then i'm off to Columbia journalism school for the summer. i'm basically just rory gilmore at this point. anywho...thank you for being patient with me. i love you all.

Vulnerability was not something you often expressed, and unfortunately, it opened a floodgate of emotions you weren't ready to approach. Every night that passed was plagued with the same sly grin or those mischievous green eyes. You felt yourself going crazy, waking up with a beating heart and shaky hands. You needed to get your act together and fast. Even your family was starting to notice your strange behavior.

It was already evening, and you had another dreaded dance to attend. Apparently, there were professional dancers this time. Anything to entertain the Queen, of course. You stared at yourself in the mirror, a sage green dress hanging from your figure, delicate beads embellishing the bodice. With gentle hands, you also put on a golden locket, one of the last things you had of your mother. Sometimes, you wished it was societally appropriate for women to wear breeches. They were much more comfortable anyway and made for a better escape.

Ivy was already waiting in the carriage when you arrived. Grandmother liked to always take her own carriage, something you appreciated more often than not. It allowed you to be left alone with your own thoughts. You sighed deeply when your back hit the cushion, and the horses carried you off. Ivy shot you a look. 

"I thought you would be more excited to be seeing your lover," she cooed, slapping your knee playfully. 

"I find these events exhausting," You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face. "And he's not my lover."

"That's not what I've heard," Ivy said. "The grapevine whispers of an imminent engagement. I heard Grandmother discussing it with a representative from the Odinson home."

That was news. News that caused a pit in your stomach rather than butterflies. Marrying Thor was the goal, was it not? He was kind and respectful and would make a suitable husband. Still, you couldn't help but feel resent the idea. Ivy noticed the look on your face. 

"You don't want to marry him."

"I didn't say that," you tutted, folding your arms defensively. 

"It's evident by the sour look you wear," she frowned, but not from disappointment. More so, concern. “Y/N.”

"I will do my duty; is that clear?" You hissed. Any other person would've recoiled from your sharp tone, but Ivy had known you too long. She placed a hand over yours, every part soft and nurturing. 

"It is alright to say no," Ivy said softly. For the first time in a long while, she felt every bit your older sister and not the ditz your Grandmother loved to portray her as. "You have permission to say no."

You didn't get the chance to respond as the carriage pulled to a stop. Her words soothed your heart in a way you didn't expect. Permission to do something for yourself wasn't anything you'd heard before. It was always the expectation that you would protect your family and secure your future. No one had ever told you that you were allowed to choose otherwise. 

Entering the ballroom, cream gauze adorned the walls, accompanied by flickering candlelight. The mood was intimate, and everyone seemed to twinkle like the fountain in the middle. A performance was occurring with scantily clad dancers, but you weren't fazed. You're sure the ton would have something to say about it, though. Unlike them, you found being able to see their bodies to make the movements captivating, and you envied how they moved with such freedom. You were so enraptured by the dance that when you eventually noticed the Odinson brothers across the room, you froze up. Ivy hadn't left your side yet, and you grabbed her hand, hoping she'd stay by you. She gave you a worried look, but you ignored her. You were insanely nervous. If a proposal was imminent, then your anxiety was going to get the best of you. This is what you want; you kept chanting to yourself, hoping to believe it.

You saw Thor try to make his way over to you, and you quickly ducked behind a couple, dragging Ivy along with you. You kept finding ways to have someone blocking the path to you and the blond prince. At some point, you fetched a drink and had it in one go, smiling kindly at the waiter, who looked at you bewildered. You let Ivy's hand go when you reached for the drink, and she maneuvered off despite your protests. Hiding in the back, you allowed yourself to grab a second drink right as the dance ended. Unfortunately, that meant the path to you was straightforward, and Thor quickly approached. 

"M'Lady, it has been an adventure to reach you all night," he smiled. You quickly put the glass back on the tray and looked him in the eye. 

"Apologies, your grace, the…dance was quite enrapturing," you choked out, feigning a smile. 

"Dancing can be quite entertaining; I always fancy myself a dance with a beautiful woman when I can," Thor looked out to the crowd with his hands clasped, returning your gaze fondly. You heard the orchestra ready a waltz as Ivy walked close to you. You cut off Thor right as he was about to ask you to dance. 

"My sister is an excellent dancer; you should give her a twirl," you grabbed Ivy as she walked by, forcing her in Thor's direction and quickly maneuvering away. You couldn't deal with suitors at this point. That meant potential marriage proposals, and frankly, you were terrified at the prospect of getting proposed to right now. 

Your quick escape led to an unfortunate collision with the only other prince you were hoping to avoid– Loki. He stabilized you before quickly pulling his hand away as if you were a fire too hot to touch. His green eyes look at you inquisitive before his lips pull up into a smirk. 

"Running away from the ball? Scandolous." He cooed. Your brows draw down at his smirk, rolling your eyes. He gives a glance at the waltz. "Care to join me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Typically, when a gentleman asks you to dance, one answers' yes' or 'no,'" Loki chides. "So, care to join me?"

You paused, taking him in before giving him a slight nod. He extends his hand and leads you out onto the floor. You can feel Ivy's gaze on you, but you ignore her as you both bow to each other. The music starts, the cello reverberating through the room as you take the first step into the movements. Loki never takes his eyes off you, something that would unnerve you if you didn't live in a fantasy world. His eyes were a forest in which you could perpetually wander. His hands reached for yours, twirling you around before capturing you close. You felt your breath hitch at your proximity and, luckily, could move away before you showed how his presence affected you. When the dance ended, you bowed before leaving, looking for any exit outside. 

You sighed in relief as the cold air touched your skin, caressing your cheeks. You heard the door close behind you and couldn't tell who you hoped it would be more. 

"Lady Chilton," Thor's voice spoke, disturbing the quiet of the night. You turned around, taking in his gentle expression. 

"Your grace," you breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You startled me."

"Thor, you can call me Thor," he chuckled, hands clasped behind his back. "I was hoping to talk to you." Your heartbeat picked up, but you nodded, brows furrowed. 

"You can always talk to me."

Thor pauses. 

"I had planned to ask for your hand in marriage."

Your brain processed his words. It took you a second for them to register. "You had planned?"

"It has nothing to do with your character," Thor reassured. "I find you quite intelligent."

"But you no longer plan to propose?"

"You don't want me to propose; I can see it clear as day," Thor, for his part, doesn't look upset. "I am not the one you want…I respect that."

"The one I want?"

"I admire you deeply, which is why all I wish for you is a love match," Thor smiled. "I never would've been able to keep up with your wit anyway."

"I'm…sorry for disappointing you," you say, feeling immense guilt. 

"You could never disappoint me, Miss Y/N," Thor smiles. You soften, taking in the tall prince. Thor was kind and gentle but masculine. You should be head over heels for him for all intents and purposes. But you just couldn't find yourself to feel that way. 

"I hope we can continue being friends," you say sadly. 

"I expect you will be more like family," he nods. "I wish you the best, Lady Chilton."

"Thor, I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You will; my brother is not a patient man."

And with that, he left you alone in the courtyard. The door closed with a click, and an owl hooted overhead. The sky was a navy blue, the clouds obscuring the moon hanging over your head. As the breeze picked up and the leaves rustled, you pondered over Thor's parting words. 

My brother is not a patient man.

taglist: @gruftiela @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @saay-karani @choki.laufeyson @foxherder @lover-of-books-and-tea

[serendipitous-girl]

I was going yo write a multichap for sally face but i am much better at oneshots so i am scrapping that idea however i am sharing how much i had written so far

"Why can't you let us know anything about what happened?" You argued, glaring at the stubborn police officer guarding the door. Ms.Sanderson was somebody you held dearly in your heart and she was dead so quickly. Of course you wanted ton investigate but it was difficult when police officers wouldn't answer any questions.

"Get lost, little girl." The police officer ordered, glaring down at you. You rolled your eyes and started walking away, when in the corner of your eye you noticed a person with blue hair in pigtails. They must be new to Addison apartments and possibly your age.

"Hey!" You called out, rushing towards them. You got closer and they turned around, wearing a mask? (No, actually you realized it was a prosthetic something you had seen on TV recently.)

"I'm [Name] and I live in 202. What's your name?" You said, holding out your hand for them to shake. They accepted the offer, their hand cold (but nice) as they gave you a firm handshake.

"The name's Sal but my friends call me Sally Face." The person responded, voice slightly raspy and very masculine. Oh, so the new kid is a boy. There wasn't anything wrong with that, in fact its totally cool! "I just moved in and decided to check out my neighbors."

You nodded and smiled, listening to his words. He had such a soothing voice, it was incredibly easy to listen to. You were determined to make him your friend.

"Well I can introduce you to Larry, one of my best friends who also lives here." You said, hoping Sal would take the offer. You wanted to be his friend, if he doesn't want to hang out with you now will he ever?

Much to your relief, he nods and starts following you. Maybe he can help you figure out what happened with Ms.Sanderson! So will Larry, probably, but the more helping is better.

You passed by some of your other neighbors, which makes you describe them all. From the creepy Charlie to the strange Mr.Addison. It was hard to tell if he was listening since you couldn't see his expressions through the mask, but you kept talking anyhow.

"Hi, Lisa." You waved as you approached Larry's mom cleaning the floor. She looked up and smiled, smiling at Sal behind you as well.

"Hi, dear. Who's this?" She asked, although more framing the question towards Sal. He introduced himself, and Lisa did the same.

"Is Larry in his room?" You asked, wanting yo get back to the reason you had approached her. Lisa nodded and tossed you a key to her apartment so you could head inside.

"How long have you lived here?" Sal asked, walking side by side with you. He looked at you, one of his eyes a gorgeous blue color that was so vibrant it was surely electric. His other eye was a much more muted blue although just as pretty..it seemed he had only one eye that actually functioned.

"Probably as long as I can remember." You chuckled, shrugging, "I've grown up in Nockfell and I think I've pretty much lived at Addison since I was a toddler. Where are you moving from?"

"New Jersey." He replied, voice a bit more curt. You winced and noted it as a touchy subject, hopefully Larry won't bring up any of this when you see him.

Finally you two made it to the basement and you unlocked Lisa's apartment, "She gets to live here basically for free since she is the janitor. Larry is her son and he's our age."

Sal nodded and followed you as you entered the apartment. "Larryyyyy," You yelled, "Get your lazy ass out of your room!"

A few seconds go by and surprisingly enough Larry walked out of his room. He was tall with long hair (that looked surprisingly soft despite him being terrible at taking care of it) and of course a Sanity Falls t shirt.

"Whoa, dude." Larry said, laying his eyes laying on Sal, "Nice mask!" He gave Sal a thumbs up, the bro code for gaining his respect.

"It's a prosthetic," You corrected at the exact same time Sal says it too. He glanced at you, seemingly surprised.

"How did you know its a prosthetic?" He asked, eyes boring into your skin. Your face warmed and you looked away, unused to such a piercing stare.

"I just guessed since I have seen them on TV before." You replied, trying to hide your fluster. Larry raised his eyebrow at you, noticing your reaction but luckily he said nothing. You would've fought him otherwise.

Sal nodded and left it alone, glancing around the room. He noticed the Sanity Falls poster and Larry started geeking out on him.

`ᘞ��❀ᘡˊ°`ᘞ❀✿ᘡˊ°`ᘞ✿❀ᘡˊ°`ᘞ❀✿ᘡˊ°`ᘞ✿❀ᘡˊ°`ᘞ❀

"Is this a good idea? Probably not." You said, sighing as you realized what you guys were about to do. But it's for Mrs.Sanderson! It's necessary.

"Okay so I distract the officer while you too sneak into Mrs.Sanderson's room. I have one walkie talkie that you guys can both use." Larry says, tossing the walkie talkie to Sal. (Rude, you've known Larry longer.)

Sal and you both nodded, ready to get the plan in motion. You all exited Larry's room, with Larry going to her room.

You and Sal waited nearby, listening for the signal you can proceed. Your heart pounded and your blood felt charged with electricity, this was more exciting than you were used to.

Finally the walkie talkie crackled to life as Larry gave the all clear. You glanced at Sal and nervously smiled, rushing towards Mrs.Sanderson's room quickly.

Your footsteps echoed your heavy heartbeat, threatening to jump from your chest. You tried to mentally prepare yourself, it was going to be bloody probably and it could be scary. Stay calm, just stay calm.

Sal opened the door and courteously went in before you, probably since his noticed your hands shaking with nerves. Even though your fear was valid it was embarrassing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you followed Sal and crinkled your nose at the utter stench of death.

You dragged your eyes through the scene, dark red splatters all around the room like a gruesome painting. Attempting to focus, you noticed something. There was a empty spot where the blood splatter went...like an object was there and got removed.

"Sal, Sal, look!" You hissed, nudging him with your shoulder and pointing at the spot, where it looked like there was a missing glitter pony. Sal nodded and looked at you.

"Good job! Now lets go before we get caught." Sal said, turning around and hurrying the way you both came. Footsteps were quiet and rapid as you guys practically ran out of the room before the officer came back to the room.

Once you were safe, you leaned forward catching your breath. Sal was staring at you, his emotions unidentifiable under his mask.

"Its cool that you noticed that earlier, I almost missed it." Sal said, giving you a small nod. Larry showed up a few moments later, a big grin in his face.

"Now we just have to find evidence in Charlie's room." Larry said, feeling serious about locking the creep up. And honestly, it made some sense that Charlie killed Mrs.Sanderson.

"I'm sure one of his glitter ponies has blood on it. That could be evidence." Sal said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, but he would flip out if we got too close to them." You pointed out.

Larry nodded, seeming a little deflated. You were too, how would you get close enough to the glitter ponies without Charlie trying to commit even more murder?

"He falls asleep when he drinks Mr.Addison's tea..maybe we could make it stronger?" Sal suggested, the observation skills being on point. You smiled, although not sure how you guys were going to drug Charlie.

"Do you guys have any sleeping pills?" Larry asked and you shook your head sadly. Without any sleeping pills how would you make Charlie go to sleep?

"My dad takes sleeping pills. I can get those." Sal said, and you all agreed on it. It was scary how easily your plans were working but there was no time to question your fortune.

Sal got the pills and you got the tea. Together you mixed the concoction and got ready to drug your neighbor. Normal teenager behavior of course.

"Since he might be a murderer and try murderous things, you can stay behind me." Sal said, holding the tea and staring at you. You gave him a warm smile, something that has been happening more since Sal showed up.

"Thanks, Sally." You said, following behind him as you entered Charlie's room. You had a plastic baggie in your hands, big enough to snatch up a glitter pony if you find it.

Charlie was sitting on his chair as usual, practically melted into the furniture. He looks at you as you enter, his eyes trailing down your skin. Ew.

"I got you some more tea." Sal says, handing the cup to Charlie. His eyes light up and he slurps the tea greedily, only to pass out right after.

"At least we know it works?" You said, before shaking your head and focusing on the collection of toys. Carefully you scanned each one looking for any sort of blood stain.

A presence stood beside you, Sal moved to stand beside you somehow completely silent. Finally he must have noticed the bloody pony because he took the plastic baggie and grabbed it.

"oh, awesome!" You said, jumping when

[swallowedbyfandom]

When Lord Debling questions her about Colin, in that tone of voice that saids he has already made up his mind about the situation something in her snaps. She is so very tired of gentle society and their narrow minds. All of them no matter how worldly or intellectual they consider themselves to be are the same. Easily offended and overly entitled children, the lot of them. This ridiculous pretentious herbivore included.

She does not even bother to justify herself to him. She shall not explain herself to the sheep of this society any longer. She is done with them all. She meets his eyes with her head held high and responds.

"I can see that after speaking with Miss Cowper, a lady who has desperately sought your hand you believe you already have the answer. I will not waste my breath explaining myself to someone so willing to believe the worse of me. Thank you for showing me your true nature before I made a mistake I could not take back. Safe travels, my Lord."

She gives him a graceful curtsy before turning on her heel and walking away. She can feel him watching her as she walks away. She manages not to laugh at the look of sheer disbelief he had worn on his face. It appears no one has ever denied him anything before. She hears him call after her but she does not look back.

Let the whole Ton watch as Cressida scrambles after her leftovers. Let Cressida live with the knowledge that she is his second choice. She can have his hand knowing that he is hers only because Penelope rejected his suit first. She has handed her a hollow victory, Cressida's pride will eat her alive. Never will Cressida rest easy in her marital bed. Penelope knows she will linger between their sheets like a ghost.

Colin Bridgerton gets into her carriage and ruins her night further. His grand confession was of course given to her under the cover of darkness. Where there would be no risk if she rejects him. His declaration is beautiful. As a writer his words are perfect, heartfelt, and almost enough. They do not have the intended effect on her however. If anything his declaration makes one thing clear to her. She does not trust him. He does not respect her.

She lets herself fall to his seduction after all if she is to be a spinster she wants to learn her body enough to bring herself pleasure. That he thinks that entitled him to her hand in marriage is so laughable that she does not even bother to ponder her answer. She politely declines, "No thank you, Colin."

She has her carriage take her home quickly after. She is done with Bridgerton delusion and hypocrisy. She just wants to get her article out and then sleep off this hellish night. She is sure her mother will be angry tomorrow morning but she does not have it in her to care anymore.

She thinks she shall enjoy the rest of this season as a spectator sport before forging documents and running off. She has enough saved up that she can buy herself a cottage and live for at least a good 10 years comfortably with a small staff. That is plenty of time for her to come up with new avenues of sneaky income.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 6/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

Some other happenings while Lucifer was in Heaven.

Reminder: Read story 1 first before starting this series! It adds some context and of course, I think it's a pretty neat prequel

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

The demons in the hotel have dispersed just after their King left for Heaven. Most kept themselves busy despite being worried because, really, what can they do except wait?

Charlie said goodbye to the Sins whom were going back to their respective rings. As much as she wants to have them at the hotel with her until her dad comes back, she understands that they can't leave the other rings unattended for too long.

Beelzebub: I really wish I could stay, baby girl. But I'm just call away, okay?

Satan: All of us are, Charlie. If you want, I can have Damien visit and wait with you?

Charlie: That's okay, uncle. I wouldn't want to bother him for something like sitting around and waiting.

Satan: If you're sure, your majesty.

Charlie: I- I'm not- I'm just acting Queen.

Asmodeus: Charlie, you are no less of a Queen as your mother was just because it's not permanent yet. As long as Lucifer is not here, you are our Queen.

Mammon: Heck yeah! By the way, do you want queen shit merch? I bet we would make a ton of money with your face in every tshirt or coffee mug!

Charlie: Haha. No thank you...

Mammon: Your loss! If ya ever change your mind though-

An elbow to his gut cuts Mammon off his never-ending, and in Charlie's honest opinion, poor sales pitch.

Mammon: Fuckin bitch! No woman is as brute as you-

Another hit sends Mammon writhing on the ground that made Charlie channel all her self-control not to laugh in his face.

Belphegor: Do shut up, Mammon. You are embarrassing yourself. If you have any questions regarding your duties, you can ask any of us. Except Mammon.

The Princess (acting Queen!) of Hell is so touched by the support of her aunts and uncles that she almost teared up. If not for Vaggie's eyes that never left her, she would've ugly cried already. She tries not to let her Uncle Mammon's pained shouts of 'f-f-uck you, Bel!' ruin the moment for her.

Leviathan: Call us when your father comes back.

Charlie: Of course! Thank you all again for being here.

Leviathan bends down to give Charlie a bow.

Leviathan: Of course, our Queen.

Giving one last goodbye hugs to each of them, Charlie doesn't notice Alastor with his ears pulled back. Husk does though.

Husk: Boss?

Alastor: Yes, dear Husker?

Husk: Ya alright?

When Alastor doesn't answer, he follows the deer demon's stare in the direction of Charlie and the Sins. Husk knows that meddling with anything Alastor will just get him scolded like all the other times he tried to express concern.

He'll never admit it but he did come to care for the psycho even just a little bit. Is it Stockholm Syndrome? He's not sure.

Regardless, if something was bothering Alastor then he and Nifty would get dragged into it eventually. So tries to reach out, even if his boss don't like it. Egotistical prick.

..

Husk felt a chill ran down his spine when he catches the Sin of Envy looking directly at their direction. More specifically, at Alastor.

'What the hell?'

He hears Alastor click his tongue then disappear to fuck knows where. And when he turned back to where the Sins were, it looks like they had left.

And so did the Sin of Envy.

Angel: Huskie! I need that drink ya always make me!

Husk only hopes that whatever that was doesn't bite any of them in the ass.

Husk: Yeah yeah, I got it.

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

Alastor went straight into his room but someone was already there, sitting in his little dining set up by the bayou.

The static he lets out would've scared any other demon but this one just looked at him in exasperation like he isn't the one trespassing in someone's private bedroom- in his territory!

Alastor: Ľ̷̹͚͚͔͓̥̭͂̃̓̉ë̸̻̳́a̶̱̦̻̱̼̔̚v̶̥̗̜̎̽̈́̂̋͆̊̔e̷̤̝̰̖̞̳̗͒̌͊͜͝!̶͍̯̠̃̔͆̈́

He summons black tentacles to attack the intruder but they stop just a hairs breath away. Alastor wills them, commands them, to strike but they don't move.

Leviathan: Using my own gift to attack me? Come on, Alastor, you know better than that.

Alastor bites his lips so hard, he bleeds.

Alastor: Y̷̥͐͑͝ó̸̗̇̾ṷ̴̧̟̺̀̅̕ ̴̧̡͕̈͜ṁ̷̱̰̞̰a̴̟̟͔͋̊͌ͅy̶̠͝ ̷̘̤̬̼͛̿̊̉ǒ̵̩̉̅w̴̩̍͑̕n̴̨̪͇̿̕ͅ ̸̧̤͈̀͋͠m̵̨͑ͅy̴̦̻͔̐͒͐̉ ̵͍̱̩̐s̷̯͂̄͂ò̴̖̺̩u̵͍̣̱̯̾̂͛l̶̻̭͖̾̾̊ ̸͖̱̍͝b̷͚̳͗̔̄͝u̸͖͊̒t̶̩͑̈́̊ ̸͖͋t̴̙̔͂h̷̬̻̫̮̓͗a̵̘̋͂̏͘ẗ̴͉̍̇͜ͅ ̸͍͒͑d̸͚̥̬̣̋̉̊o̸̭̖̯̳͌e̶̻̗͍͉̓̔͑s̴̨̥̙̈́͂ ̷̧̓n̴̢̘͓͉͂̆o̵̰͕͚͌ͅt̵͍̘̄́ ̵̧̪͔̋̓͂͐g̷̹̻̹͊̀í̵̧̨̝v̵̛̛͓̞̮̿̊ͅé̸͇͇̑͒ ̴̭̱̝̞̿ẏ̴̠͚̐̐o̵̧̓͑ų̴̻̾͆ ̶̻͍̲̃t̸͕̗͖͛̌͠h̷̩͈̗̀ẻ̷͇̈́͘͘ ̵̮̝͍͆͑̚ŗ̷͇̻̖̓̂i̵̱̦̻̩͋͛g̷̻͛̃͂͘h̶̛̼̤͙̘̒̏̕t̶͓͔̮̔̊͛͛ ̶͙̑t̵̼̣͚̐̒̅ͅǒ̴̾͘͠ͅ ̴̞̏̓̊͝d̸̡̈́͜ó̸̢͎͓̉ ̴̗̥̮̳̈́̆ằ̵̲̖̜͑̇ṩ̸̡̇͠ ̴̦̮͔͊̑̋͑y̶̤̳̹̔o̶̺̍͋u̸͎̎̅͒͘ ̶͓̫͖̪̎̓͐͝p̵̥͑̓̌͑͜l̵͓͔̻̇̑e̴̺̐͋̂̃a̴̫͇̭̥̔̔š̶̞̝ḛ̸̃̊͂͘.̷̥̰̮̆͑́͝

Leviathan merely rolls his eyes and barely even flinches from the ear-piercing sounds the radio demon is emmitting.

Leviathan: Relax. I'm not here to make you do anything. But I won't stand this disrepect.

Alastor: H̸̭͈͕̾̌ơ̸̮̖̫͉̐͒̏ẇ̷̛̱̙͌̕ͅ ̶̖͕̲͖̏͌̓d̵̛͉̭̈́́̊a̵̬͇͎̽̅̐r̷̪̣͗̐͑e̶͚̯̠͇̋̎̑͝ ̷͍̫͎̒y̵̹͆̀̅̐ô̷̡̭̣̥̎̍ú̷͔̂́ ̵̡̺̯̓t̷̞̾ą̷̮̻̔̈l̴͇̲̅͌̎͛ḱ̵̡̭̜ ̷͉͂͝ơ̶̞͓͕͗͋͜f̸̮̮̻̰̂͝ ̸̡̭̏͐͆͠d̷͇̟͙̖̈̊ī̷͚̩s̸͚̰̙̝̍̔̀r̵̰̐̉e̵̲̳̜̿͐s̷̯̳̦͈̏͐̚͘p̵̜̆e̴̡͖͕̅̈́c̷̼͓͒t̴͇́̈́ ̴̮̳̗͗͛w̷̨̟͙̳̍͒h̷̡̡̗̼̏͋̄e̷̗̓̈̽n̵͔̥͛ͅ ̶̤̉̋̆y̸̪̤̬͙̿͐͝ǫ̶͓̊͝u̷͚̭̳͎̔̓͑-̶̛̗̀̌̕

The aquatic demon snaps his fingers and suddenly, Alastor feels his power leave him. He has not felt tis weak since he was human.

Leviathan: I think I'm a pretty lenient master, Alastor. I gifted you a fraction of my power and let you kill your way up. I don't even meddle in your affairs and yet you still disrespect me? I asked of you one thing since the day you came crawling to me for power: protect the Morningstars. And frankly, right now you're not doing a good enough job.

Alastor: I do not know what you expected from a mere sinner. Plus, I don't seem to recall you doing much better on that front, your Sinfulness.

Leviathan had to let out a laugh. He could admit, the demon says some pretty hilarious things sometimes. It's even cuter when he know Alastor means it.

Leviathan: Ha! You really are a cocky demon. Talking to a Sin like that? Did your darling mother not teach you anything about respecting those who are clearly above you?

Alastor: Only those who deserve it. Like Lucifer.

Alastor still can't get any semblance of strength to pull himself off the ground. He really hates having these rare meet-ups with his master.

The embodiment of Envy stands and the next second, Alastor is being pulled up by his hair, making him look directly at the Sin. He had been averting his eyes for as soon as he felt a shift in the air but the sudden contact forces him come face-to-face with the real eldritch horror.

Leviathan: Let's get one thing straight, deer. I don't care about you, but somehow you made Lucifer do. And I would do anything for Lucifer and his happiness.

The radio demon can feel the tentacles caressing his face and he wants to recoil in disgust.

Leviathan: So, the moment I find out you're just using him for your personal gain, I won't hesitate to eat you over and over and over again. You'll never know a day without pain.

Despite the threat, he can't help the words that comes out of his mouth.

Alastor: But I am.

And if he dies today, he hopes Lucifer won't be too sad.

Leviathan: What did you just say?

Rosie always did say he had a mouth that can rival Susan. Honestly, Alastor has never felt so offended.

Alastor: Did you not hear me, master? I am using him for my personal gain. But not in the way one might think. I'm using him for my happiness and... I hope one day he will come to use me for his.

His answer must have been enough because he's suddenly let go and he can feel his powers flowing back into inside him.

'Right where they belong.'

He brushes himself off like nothing happened. Looking around, it appears that nothing was damaged after the Sin's power-play.

Leviathan: I expect you to report back to me regarding any happenings with the Morningstars and the hotel.

Opening a portal to a purple sky and raging waters, Leviathan gives Alastor one last warning.

Leviathan: Don't disappoint me.

Tsk. He really hates politics.

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

Sorry for the little Alastor dialogue! But!!! Leviathan??

Color me surprised.

I am not calling him Frederick even tho I know officially, he's called Frederick von eldritch.

You telling me that youre one of the most powerful demons in Hell and you name yourself Frederick??

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Yesterday I saw a post that basically said that Avatar wasn’t a feminist show that has a bias towards Zuko and that no female villains get redeemed(?!?) 

And said that the show oversexualises Azula which like WHAT

This is not a Cuties situation the camera never accentuates cleavage or anything, if you just saw Azula showing more skin in the beach episode (because she’s at the fucking beach) and then immediately thought about sex that sounds like a you problem.

People really gotta learn what words mean - and that no show from nearly TWENTY YEARS AGO is gonna present social issues the same way modern series would. Avatar has two whole episodes in which the whole lesson is "Sexism is bad, don't mistreat women", and a ton of the female characters are absolutely badass and incredibly well-written. One or two questionable moments is not enough to make claim it is misogynistic.

A female villain not getting redeemed while a male character does is only sexist if her gender is presented as the reason why she can't be redeemed, or if they did all the same things but her actions are presented as worse - and while the ATLA fandom is often guilty of that last one (not always because of sexism, but also because of ableism), that doesn't mean the writting of the SHOW was sexist.

I say this as someone who loves Azula's character and wants a redemption arc for her: the show's ending is a tragic, but logical one. Not everyone changes. Not everyone wants to change, or even gets the chance to. It's sad, but it makes sense and there's nothing offensive about the finale (unlike the way Azula was treated in the comics, but once again the root of the problem there was "the mentally ill are inherently evil/beyond help so anything and everything done to them is justifiable").

"The show oversexualizes her" That one is bit more complex - but not THAT much.

Avatar is a show with lots of fanservice (see Zuko taking off his shirt causing birds to fly and fangirls to appear behind him squeeling), but all of it is stuff that was ALWAYS presented in a way that was 100% appropriate for children. More importantly, the show never tried to use the fanservice to compensate for poor writting or to make Azula an evil seductress (a trope that is not inherently sexist, but can become so if the writer isn't careful with it). Making Azula gorgeous in a scene, or letting Grey Delisle have some fun like the did during the confrontation Zuko and Azula had in The Awakening, is not the same as them reducing Azula from character to sex-object.

Once again, the fandom is far more guilty of the "Attractive means sexual and sex is evil" mentality than the show ever was. I lost count of how many people "theorize" that Azula is a "slut" who slept her way to the top and has even raped people (usually Zuko and Suki) even though the show made it clear she can't flirt to save her life, is so respected/feared because she's a great fighter/manipulator, and has literally never forced herself onto her brother and was obviously lying when implying she had done something Suki because THE SHOW ITSELF told us everything she was telling the Gaang on that scene was just an attempt to buy her father more time until the eclipse was over.

Some of the fans treat her as the typical "evil femme fatale that you can tell is evil because she sleeps around", but the show itself never did that.

Also a lot of what I sometimes see fans claim is "sexualization" is just mundane stuff. I lost count of how many times people were losing their shit because "WHY IS A FOURTEEN YEAR GIRL ALWAYS WEARING MAKE UP?"

Maybe because said fourteen year old is a perfectionist that can't even stand to have one hair out of place, so obviously she'd want her face looking perfect too? Or maybe she wants to look older not to "seduce" anyone but because she'd rather not risk not being taken seriously for being so young? And, crazy thought but bear with me here, maybe, just maybe... Azula likes make-up. Revolutionary concept, I know.

And it's not like the show ever got weird about it like the comics (seriously, girl is hallucinating in a straight-jacket and her hair is all messed up, but SOMEHOW she put on lipstic/the doctors did it for her????). She had a clean face when she was sleeping and when she was at the royal spa getting her hair done, and even at Chan's party her make-up is exactly the same she wears during the day. The "weirdest" place she wore it at was at the beach, and again considering it's Azula, who always wants to look perfect, I can see it.

Seriously guys, there's a difference between "TikTok is constantly telling women, teen girls and children they need to buy 37 different products that they gotta put on before anyone can *gasp* see their face" and "This cartoon had one of the characters constantly wearing make-up because that's a thing teenagers do sometimes + it helps the character be more memorable"

[pooohwriting]

Tell me I mean nothing

Lady Portia Featherington x Female Reader

Warning: This story is a product of my imagination. Please respect my creativity and do not copy, reproduce, or distribute this work without my permission. Thank you for your understanding and support!

Summary: As the entire ton gathers for Anthony and Miss Edwina's wedding, Miss Y/N finds her feelings for Lady Featherington grow deeper. Will she finally acknowledge the true nature of her emotions, or will she continue to deny them? With Lord Featherington present, complicating matters, how will Y/N confront her growing feelings?

Chapter 3 : The Heart's Awakening

Today is Anthony's wedding, and yet I found myself waking much later than intended. Daphne and I had stayed up far too late, discussing a great many things, including her thoughts on the day ahead. It seems Eloise chose not to wake me, though I can hardly blame her—this is her brother's wedding, after all, and the family must have left early for preparations.

As I hastily prepared to venture outside in search of a carriage, I heard a familiar voice. "Oh, you’re still here!" Daphne remarked with a knowing smile as she approached. "Did you oversleep as well?"

No, but I half expected the wedding might be called off, so arriving late seemed a sensible precaution," Daphne sighed, though her lips curved into a wry smile. I let out a soft laugh and shrugged. "Shall we make our way together, then?" I suggested.

"Indeed," she replied with a lighthearted chuckle. "But first, we must make ourselves presentable. Allow me to arrange your hair—it shall be done swiftly," she added with a teasing smile, and I followed her, returning the smile with equal amusement.

"How are you, Daphne? How is life as a duchess?" I asked with a smile, watching her in the mirror as she skillfully arranged my hair.

A soft, genuine smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkling with contentment. "I’m very well, truly. Being a mother and a duchess suits me more than I imagined. Simon is wonderful—he has been such a steadfast partner," she said, her happiness evident in every word.

"I’m so pleased for you, Daphne," I replied warmly, meeting her gaze in the reflection with a smile of my own.

"Thank you, Y/N. I know Francesca would be delighted to see you. You two were quite close as children," Daphne remarked, a fond smile gracing her lips. I returned her smile, memories of our youth flooding back. Francesca had always been the quieter one, but I was grateful for the moments she shared with me.

Eloise, ever the bookworm, had her nose buried in a tome nearby, likely lost in some grand adventure. I chuckled softly, recalling how she would often drag us into her imaginative tales, spinning stories that made our afternoons magical. Meanwhile, Daphne leaned into her newfound interests in all things feminine, her enthusiasm radiating like sunlight, contrasting perfectly with Eloise’s scholarly pursuits.

"Thank you, Daphne—Duchess, I mean!" I chuckled, shaking my head. "It feels strange to call you that, especially when we had so much fun as children. I’m grateful that, despite the distance, we remain connected."

Daphne beamed at me as she finished arranging my hair. “I feel the same, Y/N. I must thank our families for keeping us close. It’s a rare blessing.”

As she began selecting a simple dress for the event, I took a moment to admire her happiness. “By the way, have you noticed anything about Anthony and Miss Edwina?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

I furrowed my brows slightly, surprised by her question. “Well, he seems rather quiet and polite—very gentlemanly, I would say,” I replied, glancing at my reflection. But Daphne looked unconvinced.

“What’s the matter?” I inquired, my tone teasing.

Instead of answering, she focused intently on the dress, prompting me to call out her name softly.

“Daphne?”

“Yes?” She turned to me, and I gave her a knowing look, urging her to continue.

“What about Miss Kate? How does he act around her?”

I hesitated, feeling uncertain. “Well, I’m not quite sure, as I haven’t really seen them together,” I admitted honestly. To my surprise, she nodded in understanding.

Before I could say more, there was a soft knock on the door, interrupting our conversation.

“Your Grace,” the maid called, and Daphne and I exchanged glances, a shared anticipation evident in our eyes. She opened the door with practiced elegance. “Yes?” Daphne replied, her voice calm yet curious. “Lady Montgomery and Lord Montgomery have just arrived, Your Grace.”

My eyes widened in surprise, and I looked back at Daphne, who wore a beaming smile. “They’re here?” I exclaimed, rising from my seat. “But I thought they were not coming since they are busy with the family business!”

“They sent a letter to me stating they would attend the wedding,” Daphne explained, her excitement palpable.

“How splendid!” I said, my heart racing. “Shall we greet them together?”

“Of course!” she replied, the joy in her expression infectious.

I walked out of Daphne's room alongside her, making our way toward the drawing room.

“Mama?!” I exclaimed in delight, spotting my parents. “It’s surprising to see you both! I thought you and Father would not come to the ton!” I embraced them briefly, feeling a warm rush of affection.

“Well, we both thought it was time to pay a visit,” my mother replied with a smile, glancing at my father for confirmation. “We shall be here for a short while and plan to return after the wedding.”

My father nodded, his expression warm yet resolute, reinforcing the shared sentiment of their decision. Turning to Daphne, he added, “It’s so wonderful to see you again, Daphne. We’ve missed you.”

“We truly have,” my mother chimed in. “You’ve settled into your new life beautifully.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Daphne replied, her cheeks slightly pink from their compliments. “It’s lovely to have you here.”

Before we could continue our conversation, a servant entered the room and announced, “Your Grace, the wedding may start in a few hours.” I looked at Daphne, and she nodded in agreement.

“I guess we should all go, then,” I suggested, feeling a surge of excitement for the day ahead. We step into our carriages, enjoying the ride to the venue, filled with anticipation for the wedding ahead.

We have arrived, we all stepped out of the carriage, and I followed Daphne inside. As we walked, I scanned the crowd. Many people had attended since the queen was hosting, which made sense. I glanced at Daphne, who seemed bothered. As much as I wanted to ask her about it, I didn’t want to overstep, knowing there was a high probability it was related to the wedding.

"We'll go inside later okay, we will just explore for a bit" Mother told me together with father and I nod "Enjoy" I said

I made my way directly into the church while Daphne proceeded to the room where Anthony awaited. As I entered, I noticed Eloise engaged in conversation with a young lady adorned in a lovely yellow dress. Wishing not to intrude upon their discourse, I approached them with a cautious step. To my surprise, the young woman excused herself, leaving Eloise standing alone, her expression brightening as she turned to face me.

"Y/N, you have at last arrived!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth and enthusiasm.

“Are you quite well? Who was that?” I inquired, moving closer to Eloise and glancing in the direction of the lady. To my astonishment, I found her seated beside Prudence, and our eyes met once more—those captivating blue depths holding my gaze.

“Lady Featherington,” I breathed, the name escaping my lips in a whisper, my heart racing at the unexpected encounter.

She looks gorgeous

"Y/N!!" Eloise says infront of me, "Wh-what?!" I feel my cheeks burn up "What were you saying? and you were late" Eloise ask casually

"I asked about that lady, and let us not forget that you failed to wake me from my slumber," I replied, trying to keep my tone light despite the swirl of emotions stirring within me.

"That is Penelope I assumed you had met her at the ball." Eloise remarked as she linked her arm with mine.

“I cannot recall,” I confessed as we nestled into our appointed seats. Stealing furtive glances at the lady across from me, I felt her gaze linger upon me—or perhaps I was merely indulging in wishful thinking. A smile played upon my lips as I absorbed Eloise’s musings and delightful anecdotes, the fervor of the impending wedding infusing the air with an electric anticipation. My parents were seated behind me, alongside another family, their familiar presence offering a soothing reminder of home amid the surrounding excitement.

Hyacinth and Gregory settled beside me, while Colin took his place next to Eloise. The Queen had already made herself comfortable, surrounded by her usual entourage. The pastor stood poised at the center, ready to officiate. At last, Daphne and Lady Bridgerton arrived and seated themselves next to Colin, while Benedict had already assumed his position as groomsman.

As the musical instruments began to play, I felt an irresistible urge to glance across the room. Lady Featherington appeared radiant, and I swiftly averted my gaze, turning to the hallway where the bride and groom would soon make their entrance. I gulped and exhaled deeply, trying to steady my fluttering heart.

Now it was Anthony making his way down the aisle. I took another quick look at Lady Featherington, bewildered by the way my eyes were drawn to her.

Why did I feel as if I were some sort of prey, captivated by her presence?

Moments later, Miss Kate Sharma walked gracefully down the aisle. I caught a brief glimpse of her before my gaze was once again pulled back to Lady Featherington. I forced myself to look ahead, focusing on Miss Kate, who now stood at the altar. Absently, I watched, waiting for Miss Edwina's entrance.

I could not help but observe the way Anthony and Miss Kate gazed at one another, their connection unmistakable. A sudden realization washed over me, yet uncertainty lingered. I cast a glance at Daphne, who regarded me with a knowing expression. I merely shrugged, at a loss for how to respond.

At last, Miss Edwina made her entrance, accompanied, I assumed, by her mother. She looked breathtaking in her bridal gown, and I found myself smiling at the sight. Yet, my gaze inevitably drifted back to Lady Featherington. At that precise moment, our eyes met, and a jolt ran through me. I felt my heart race, unsure how long we lingered in that silent exchange, for Miss Edwina had now arrived at the altar. I nodded to Lady Featherington before quickly looking away, my breath quickening.

What on earth is happening to me? It must be this unexpected encounter, but how can it be unexpected when the Queen is hosting and the entire ton is invited? Or perhaps I am simply losing my senses!

"My Lord," the pastor intoned, drawing my gaze to the center. It seemed Anthony was also lost in deep thought, much like myself. I took a breath and resolved to focus on the proceedings unfolding before me. Was he looking at Miss Kate?

I raised an eyebrow as Miss Edwina shifted her attention toward Anthony and Miss Kate. “I, Anthony Bridgerton,” the pastor began, but abruptly, with a sudden clatter, Miss Kate’s bracelet slipped from her wrist. In an instinctive motion, both she and Anthony bent down to retrieve it.

Oh, I see. I glanced at Daphne, who remained fixed on the scene before us, her expression revealing a of knowing, as if she had anticipated this turn of events.

Before I could fully comprehend the unfolding spectacle, Miss Edwina dashed away from the altar, swiftly followed by her mother, and shortly thereafter, Miss Kate. “What has happened to my wedding?” I heard the Queen exclaim, her voice thick with disbelief. Just then, a sudden flourish of fireworks erupted in the sky, illuminating the evening in a dazzling display.

Shortly after, the Bridgerton family stood and discreetly followed Anthony to his chambers. With the sudden shift in atmosphere, I decided it best to make my way back to my parents. Guests began to rise from their seats, slowly making their exit from the church. I sighed softly, casting a glance toward the Lady's section. To my quiet disappointment, it seemed they, too, were preparing to depart.

“Y/N.” Mother called for me, her voice gentle. I turned to face her “Mama, did you both enjoy your time exploring the ton?” I asked, trying to mask the swirl of emotions within me while offering her a small smile.

“Yes, indeed, even though everything seemed rather unexpected,” my mother replied, her brow still slightly furrowed from the earlier chaos.

“Do not worry. Whatever they decide, I am certain they have their reasons,” my father added, his tone reassuring. There was a comforting wisdom in his words, a reminder of their unwavering support amid the unfolding drama.

“Exactly! I’m sure they will be all right,” I said, offering them a warm smile. “For now, why don’t we take a breath of fresh air while we await news about whether the wedding will proceed?”

With that suggestion, we began to stroll through the gardens, engaging with fellow guests. Laughter and chatter floated through the air, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. The scent of blooming flowers filled our senses as we walked, providing a much-needed respite from the day’s unexpected events.

“How has your stay been here?” my mother inquired, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“It’s been delightful,” I replied, a smile tugging at my lips. “I’ve spent quality time with the family, filled with friendly bickering and engaging conversations. I’ve also had the pleasure of meeting new people and making friends. And, um…” My thoughts momentarily drifted, and the vivid memory of Lady Featherington flashed in my mind, causing my heart to flutter unexpectedly.

“And?” Father asked, snapping me back to reality.

“Um, that’s mostly it,” I replied with a smile, trying to keep my tone casual. “Just the usual activities—talks, some games, and meeting new faces.”

“New faces, you say?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “Are any of these new acquaintances particularly memorable?”

I chuckled lightly, avoiding his gaze as a warmth rose in my cheeks. “Oh, just friendly conversations, I assure you. But let’s not dwell on me. How was back home?”

Mother smiled, her eyes twinkling. “It was lovely! We’ve been working on expanding our perfume line. The new lavender scent is quite popular among the locals.”

Father nodded in agreement. “Indeed, the townsfolk seem to enjoy it. I must say, I’ve developed quite the knack for mixing fragrances.”

I raised an eyebrow playfully. “I had no idea you were such a connoisseur, Father!”

He laughed, waving off my jest. “Merely a necessity in our business, my dear.”

“Either way, it’s wonderful to hear you both are thriving,” I replied, genuinely pleased.

“Speaking of business, we brought some ingredients for the perfumes,” Mother said, her enthusiasm evident. “I asked the maids to put them in your room where you are currently staying with the Bridgertons. You can experiment here in case you see any flowers that inspire you.”

“Really?” I perked up, excitement bubbling within me. “I’d love to try my hand at mixing a new scent!”

Father smiled knowingly. “Just remember, my dear, it’s all about balance. Too much of one ingredient can overwhelm the others.”

I nodded, eager to delve into the creative process. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind!”

I scanned the crowd; everyone seemed engaged in lively conversation, and I felt a sudden urge to wander alone and admire the scenery. “May I take a short walk?” I asked my parents, hoping to find a moment of quiet amidst the festivities. They both nodded in understanding, and I began to wander.

I decided to return to the Royal Chapel, hoping to find a moment of solitude amidst the celebrations. I passed a gathering of guests, my gaze catching The Lord Featherington, who was engrossed in conversation with a group of gentlemen. They seemed to be discussing mines and investments, their laughter mingling with the distant strains of music from the main hall.

“Mr. Mondrich, I must ask, this social club of yours—an admirable endeavor, if not rather surprising—what can a boxer know about running a business?” The Lord Featherington's words dripped with condescension, and my eyebrows knitted together at the tone he employed. I didn’t like the way he spoke, as if dismissing the accomplishments of a man who had worked hard to carve out his own path.

I decided to move along and explore the Royal Chapel. Eavesdropping any longer would raise suspicions, especially as I was a woman overhearing the conversations of men.

As I ventured away from the main ceremony, I found myself in a quiet hallway adorned with intricate carvings and soft, flickering candlelight. The air was cool and infused with the faint scent of beeswax, creating a tranquil atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the jubilant celebrations just outside.

I walked slowly, allowing the serene surroundings to soothe my thoughts. The elaborate frescoes on the walls depicted scenes of angelic figures and celestial beings, their soft expressions lending a sense of peace to the otherwise bustling occasion. I couldn't help but admire the artistry, a reminder of the history that enveloped this place.

As I continued down the hallway, the sudden opening of a door caught my attention. Lady Featherington emerged, her elegant gown trailing slightly behind her as she headed towards the exits. My heart raced at the sight of her, I was about to follow when, to my surprise, Lord Featherington stepped out of the same room just behind her.

And he was smiling. Why? What had transpired between them? A rush of questions flooded my mind, but I quickly reminded myself that it was none of my business. I took a deep breath, releasing a shaky sigh as I tried to shake off the lingering thoughts.

Before my imagination could run wild with possibilities, I turned away from the scene and rejoined the lively crowd. Laughter and chatter filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within me. But soon, my steps led me away from the gathering, drawn to the garden’s edge.

There, I paused near a cluster of bushes, their delicate flowers and vibrant leaves swaying gently in the evening breeze. The fragrant scent of blooming jasmine wrapped around me, momentarily soothing my restless heart. I leaned against a nearby stone wall, allowing myself a moment of quiet reflection.

I lingered there for a moment, admiring the delicate blooms and tracing the soft curves of the leaves, seeking solace in their quiet beauty. A deep sense of calm washed over me as I breathed in the sweet fragrance, marveling at how each flower bloomed in its own time, its scent and form unique. There was something so tranquil, so perfect in their quiet existence, untouched by the tumult of the world around them.

"I thought I'd find you here," a voice, so familiar, spoke softly behind me. A smile tugged at my lips, and I felt my heart skip a beat as I turned to face her.

"Were you looking for me, my lady?" I teased lightly, a playful glint in my eyes.

She chuckled softly, her gaze warm. "We haven't had a chance to talk," she said, her tone carrying a hint of fondness that stirred something deep within me.

"Quite understandable, my lady," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips. "With so many gathered, it is easy to get swept up in the crowd."

She sighed quietly, a sound that made me glance her way, concern creeping into my thoughts. "My lady, is everything all right?" I asked gently, noticing the weight behind her earlier sigh.

"Yes, everything is fine," she answered firmly, though her tone held a quiet tension. I nodded, choosing not to press her further. Whatever burden she bore, she clearly wasn't ready to share it just yet.

She paused, her expression softening as she met my gaze. "Call me Portia, dear," she said, her voice tender. The familiarity of the request made my heart quicken unexpectedly, and the endearment caused me to look away, a rush of warmth flooding my cheeks.

All I could do was nod and smile, the silence between us lingering in a manner that felt surprisingly comfortable. There was a quiet contentment in her presence, though I could not quite understand why. Suddenly, a thought struck me, and I turned to her with a touch of curiosity. "Tell me, my Lady—Portia," I corrected myself, feeling a blush rise as she looked at me with a warm smile. "Which flower among these is most to your liking?" I asked, gesturing toward the blossoms before us in the garden.

She smiled and pointed to a bright yellow bloom. "This one" she said with a hint of joy in her voice. "A daffodil" I murmured, mentally noting to buy some later. "A lovely choice" Her gaze shifted to me with curiosity. 'What do you plan to do with it?' she asked as I plucked one, bringing it to my nose to take in its delicate scent.

I smiled softly, a secret forming in my mind. "It’s a surprise" I replied, thinking of the perfume I would make just for her—a daffodil fragrance, crafted from the materials my parents had gifted me for my time in the ton.

"Y/N" my father’s voice called, and I turned to see my parents approaching with warm smiles.

"I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself" my mother said as they came to stand beside me. My heart began to race, noticing their gaze shift toward Portia.

"Mama, Papa," I began, a nervous flutter stirring in my stomach. "This is Lady Portia Featherington, my, um..." I gulped, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. "My friend." The label felt so inadequate, so wrong. I glanced at Portia, hoping she didn’t catch the subtle shift in my tone, the longing hidden beneath my casual words.

She simply nodded, her expression inscrutable as she held my gaze, and a moment of silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Montgomery and Lord Montgomery,” she said, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of tension.

"Ah, Portia," came a man's voice, slicing through the air. It was Lord Featherington, his presence imposing as he stepped up beside Portia. I felt my jaw clench involuntarily at the sight of him.

“Lord Featherington,” he greeted with a practiced politeness, extending his hand to my father. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Lord Montgomery,” my father replied, accepting the handshake with a firm grip.

“I have heard your business is thriving, Lord Montgomery,” Lord Featherington began, his tone all too smooth as he directed his attention toward my father. “You are quite well known in the ton, particularly for your exquisite perfumes.”

I kept my gaze fixed on Lord Featherington, recalling how he had treated one of the gentlemen earlier—his demeanor charming yet laced with a hint of condescension. The air around him seemed to shimmer with his self-importance.

As I observed him, I shifted my gaze to Portia, only to find her staring at me intently, her expression revealing a complex mixture of admiration and uncertainty. The warmth in her gaze felt like a silent conversation between us, but as Lord Featherington continued, that connection seemed to wane.

“Indeed,” my father replied, his pride evident in his voice. “The art of perfumery requires a discerning eye and a passion for the delicate balance of scents. I have devoted myself to both, and I am pleased that my efforts have gained recognition.”

They conversed for some time, and I found myself listening absently as Lord Featherington extolled the virtues of his ruby mines, recounting tales of their recent success and the acclaim they had garnered among the gentlemen of the ton. His voice brimmed with pride as he detailed the latest developments, painting a vivid picture of the flourishing enterprise.

Suddenly, Portia interjected, “I must beg your pardon. I need to go in search of my daughters.” Her tone was steady, yet there was a subtle urgency in her words, as if she hoped the lord might take the cue to follow her. With a brief, polite nod to my parents, she turned, her eyes fleetingly meeting mine before she stepped away into the crowd.

As she turned to leave, she was followed shortly by Lord Featherington. I felt an unexpected tug at my heart, as if the very essence of my being was pulling in the direction she had just taken. The vibrant crowd seemed to fade away, leaving a lingering emptiness in her absence.

It was more than mere friendship—had it been attraction all along?

“Portia,” I murmured softly, praying that none would overhear. I watched her navigate her way toward the throng, the word "friend" echoing unsettlingly in my mind. It felt profoundly wrong to confine her to such a label.

“Y/N, are you quite well?” my mother inquired, her brow knitting with concern.

“Yes, I am,” I replied, though the truth was far more intricate. “I merely—” I hesitated, searching for the right words, “I wish to create a perfume. I would like to visit the Bridgerton residence to experiment.” They nodded in understanding, opting to remain for a while longer.

I commanded the driver to halt at a flower merchant’s establishment as we made our way to the Bridgerton residence.

As the carriage swayed softly, the weight of my words settled heavily in my chest. My heart raced as I came to the undeniable truth—what I felt for Portia was far more than mere friendship. Calling her just a friend felt wrong, a disservice to the depth of my feelings. I had set my feelings aside in uncertainty, unwilling to confront what might have been obvious all along.

Every conversation we shared, the warmth of her gaze, and the simple joy of her presence—each memory rushed back, making it clear that my feelings were far more profound than mere friendship. In those fleeting moments when I glimpsed her lips, I realized, deep down, that what I felt was not the affection one typically holds for a friend.

Regret washed over me, mixing with a fresh sense of clarity. I realized I had been fooling myself; these feelings were deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge. I tried to convince myself it was simply admiration, but I knew that wasn’t true—this was something much stronger, a longing I could no longer ignore.

"Miss Montgomery, we have arrived," a servant announced as I stepped down from the carriage and made my way into the flower merchant's establishment.

A daffodil stood before me, its vibrant petals shimmering in the sunlight. Taking a deep breath, I felt a rush of determination. I decided to craft a perfume inspired by the daffodil, a plan I had conceived before truly realizing the depth of my feelings. Now it held an even greater significance.

Authors Note: Hello everyone! I hope you’re having a wonderful day. I apologize for the long wait between updates—things have been quite busy lately. Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I truly hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to share any suggestions or feedback you may have. I appreciate your support and will update as soon as I can. Thank you!

[zeravmeta]

yknow that saber/cu alter art post has me thinking it really is fascinating to me that saber and cu have a ton of similar qualities in choosing a heroic fate they knew would ultimately lead to suffering and like, the core difference between them I feel is that saber chose her heroic ideals for the sake of others and cu chulainn chose it for himself

saber in a lot of ways has a similar potential towards inhumanity/being monstrous the same way cu does (being referred to as a child of dragons, the stoic impassive uncaring face of a king no one really understands, the lion king as a whole is a prime example of this) where you can feed too deeply into one aspect of them but that would never really erase the base, cu alter even as a modified beast king is still proud to have been cu chulainn much in the same way that the lion king or saber alter are still at their core kings trying to support their people for the sake of their ideals. and like for all that those are definitely major parts of their beings it's not their whole, they could certainly Be monstrous and in some respects can be considered monsters but they are not only that,

and like what really makes this fascinating to me is that no one ever really tries to save cu chulainn from his heroism the way people tried to save saber from hers.

so many people saw the cruelty saber committed against herself for the sake of others and have tried to save her from it, which in turn led to their own types of disasters. you cant save the legendary king who already died because she still chose this fate for herself, but people still tried against impossible odds. you cant say that cu chulainn didnt also suffer for his heroism, anyone even halfway familiar with his story knows just how much he suffered for the sake of being a hero, knowing his fate would be that of a short tenure of unmatched glory. even if he did choose it for himself, saber also chose her own fate knowing it would lead to a disgraceful end, just because one did it for his own sake and another did it for the sake of others doesnt erase that it is still cruelty towards oneself to become a hero. and like, they also share the pride in their choices! for all that she knows she has regrets about its fall saber would still choose to be the king of camelot a million times over because it was worth it to her despite the tragedy and suffering, to try and stand for a greater cause as a king and a hero, much in the same way that even if he has way more blood on his hands than he would ever be comfortable with, knowing that there are more victims in his path than actual enemies, cu chulainn is still proud to have been a hero and would always choose to be a hero.

romani once said that once you become a hero you no longer belong to yourself, you are now something beyond human who has given up their chance in order to stand tall among the rest of human history. and i feel like this sentiment is the crux of both saber and cu's dynamics with archer and medb, because both of them see the person instead of the hero.

archer stands in a unique position compared to saber and cu because hes the nobody hero who's arguably suffered far worse than them but for all that he looks down on heroism he still does respect both of them deeply as heroes. hes able to insult cu as hard as he does during their fight at the church because he understands cu and knows how to directly spit on his pride, and as shirou there's every action he took throughout the entirety of fsn to try to connect with and save saber from the burden of being the unmatched king and hero. always understanding but never being understood he is every bit their equal as a hero but he does not really like being a hero. archer understands them as people and cannot accept them as heroes because hes so embittered by his own endless experiences as a hero that he cannot see heroism as anything other than an endless path of bloodshed. and in a lot of ways he is right, neither saber nor cu can deny that their choices as heroes led to far more people dying than they were prepared for, but that doesn't mean they didn't see those choices through to the end, and even now still would. in a similar vein, medb is the "king" equivalent of their parallel the way shirou/archer is the "hero" equivalent: medb does love cu, but she doesn't demand the heroic legacy of cu chulainn to be hers, the very first thing she did in america with a grail was try to alter cu so that he Wouldn't be everyone else's hero but a king who would stand at her side, and yet cu alter still ended up being as equally heroic as cu chulainn because the heroism is a core part of him, you cant take away any part of cu because they are inherent to the whole; cu chulainn may be a monster but he isnt only a monster, he is also a hero. knocknarea and catoria are also part of this, offshoots of the people they are based on where the core of their dynamic is what knocknarea wants castoria to take control of her own destiny and go forth not as a the legend but as the person. oberon describes that the only real difference between medb and knocknarea is that medb is simply the version whose searching for love but knocknarea was always searching for love and the one person she connected to in the century she was around in fairy britain was the child of prophecy meant to absolve the land of its sins, quite literally the hero who has to die in order to save the world.

saber and cu may be wildly different in a lot of aspects but they are ultimately two sides of the same coin on the idea of heroism. neither is right and neither is wrong for what is the best version of a hero or themselves, but what matters the most is that despite the suffering, it was still their choices to be a hero. maybe they could be saved, maybe they were saved, maybe they never needed to be saved in the first place, all of that is secondary to them having made their choices and dying for them. no one ever saved saber because you couldn't save her no matter what, but no one ever saved cu chulainn because he never wanted to be saved.

that is the price of being a hero

[natimiles]

Come a Little Closer | Chapter 5 (final)

Read: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Words: 4489

Pairs: gn!reader/Arthur; f!MC/Mozart

Tags: swearing; drinking; spoilers from Mozart’s and Arthur’s route in one big bowl of salad; lots of pet names (because I love it); MC is the one in-game, just to make it more clear; Mozart being petty; reader and Arthur being adorable and chaotic; suggestive scenes because we have Arthot as one of the main characters; Arthur simping over you.

Breakfast had been as normal as it could be. Dazai entered through the window, returning from who knows where; Theo stuffed his face with pancakes and syrup; and Jean had to be dragged out of his room to actually eat something. However, Mozart didn’t show up, and you didn’t hear him playing through the night, so you weren’t sure what happened.

When everyone finished and dispersed to their respective rooms and errands, you went to the kitchen to clean up. Arthur sometimes stayed to keep you company, chat about trivialities, and even help when Sebastian allowed him — and he didn’t approve much of Arthur’s help ever since the writer said he’d do the dishes, hit his arm on three glasses that were too close to the edge of the sink, and broke them. Today was one of those days that he stayed but wasn’t allowed to touch anything.

Sebastian went to Comte’s office, probably to give him his morning tea, while MC was assembling Isaac’s brunch. And Arthur pulled a chair to your side, hugging you by the waist while you finished polishing the cutlery.

“I’ll get this to Isaac. Be right back!” MC said, leaving the kitchen.

“Sooo,” Arthur said, a cheeky smile on his face. He got up to corner you against the counter. “Looks like we’re alone, my love.”

“Well observed, detective,” you giggled.

“Any ideas?”

"Lots of them,” you said, turning around to look at him. He grinned, but it faded quickly. “But none for right now because I have a ton of work to do.”

"Come on, honey, humor me," he pouted, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry, honey, but I really need to finish here,” you consoled him. “But I can make up to you some other time.”

“Mmm, tempting,” he leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips.

"For God’s sake, I don’t want to see it every time I walk into a room,” Mozart said, sounding disgusted. “I promised to behave, but you have to as well. And it’s not sanitary to do it here,” he frowned.

“Would you prefer we go to my room?” Arthur asked, smirking.

The musician looked at you, as if asking permission to kill your boyfriend right this instant. He opted to just groan and get something to eat. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’m just teasing you, Wolfie. You need to get laid to relax a little.”

Mozart whipped around so fast to face Arthur that his neck snapped, his eyes widening in horror and surprise. He was blushing so hard that even his ears were red. You didn’t know if it was anger or embarrassment, probably both.

“Why would you say it out loud?” you sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Was?” His voice finally came out. Looked like Arthur broke your brother.

Silence. No one dared to say a word for a whole minute.

“Is everything okay, Mozart?” MC’s melodious voice cut through the awkward silence, prompting all three of you to stop staring at each other and turn to look at her standing in the doorway. You really liked MC, but now was the worst time for her to come back. “Your face is really red. Are you sick? Can I help you with something?”

Oh, no. 

“Yes, yes!” Arthur said. You gazed at him, seeing his grin widening on his face. You told him that you thought Mozart was starting to like MC, and he couldn’t resist such good timing for teasing. “I think you’re the only one who can help Wolfie right now.”

“Oh!” She took a step forward, her eyes filled with concern. “What can I do for you?”

Mozart didn’t say anything, just glared at Arthur and left the room, muttering something under his breath; you’d bet he was swearing in German. He didn’t even have time to grab coffee or something to eat before leaving, just some blanc.

MC followed the musician with her gaze until he was out of sight. Frowning, she looked back at you. “What happened? Did I do something?”

“No, you did nothing. Don’t worry.” You glanced at your boyfriend, a scowl on your face. “But you…”

“I didn’t know that would happen!” He raised his hands to try to defend himself. “But it was funny.”

“I’d sleep with an eye open tonight, just to make sure,” you sighed.

xxx

Mozart ran to his music room and slammed the door shut. He sat down on his piano bench to catch his breath; he wasn’t used to running. Yes, as soon as he was out of the kitchen, he ran. He didn’t know why, he just knew he had to get out of there. Usually, he was really good at ignoring Arthur or making a snarky comment back, but today his brain stopped functioning; the scoundrel really outdid himself. MC arriving didn’t help either; she looked so worried, his heart panged when he saw her face.

How was he supposed to look at her now? He knew he acted weird, and she wouldn’t let it slip. She was stubborn and usually did everything she could to make him talk to her. Wasn’t that how they started chatting anyway? He didn’t know if he should be grateful or not because this was the whole reason for his predicament now, but he really didn’t want to talk about what happened.

His mood soured when he realized he had no way out. He agreed to teach her how to play the song he composed for her. She’d probably look for him when she wasn’t so busy, and deep in his heart, he longed for the time he’d spend with her. On the other hand, he knew every lesson he taught her would be a countdown to the day she’d go away — the day she’d leave the mansion forever and never come back. He groaned aloud; his sour mood only worsened now.

Mozart looked down at the piano, attempting to keep himself busy, but he couldn’t concentrate. He wasn’t oblivious or dense. After spending the night thinking about it, he came to the logical conclusion that she was the shortest friendship he ever had because he was in love with her. And that’s when the problem really started. What should he do about it? Should he say something? Would she be mad at him if he told her about his feelings? Was there even a slight chance of her reciprocating? Would she stay if he asked? Did he have the right to ask that of her? He mistreated her half of her time in the mansion; would she even believe he was now in love with her?

He blamed your stupid advice; that was the reason he was going crazy. ‘Won’t hurt to just think’, his ass! He spent the whole night thinking about MC, without being able to reach a conclusion that made actual sense and wouldn’t hurt anyone. When he realized, the sun was rising while he was still staring at his ceiling in silence, his heart beating faster than ever before.

He didn’t realize he had missed lunch until his uncomfortable thoughts and lonely silence were broken by the worst person — again. Three knocks on the door and her sweet voice calling him.

“Mozart? Are you in there?”

He thought back to what Arthur said in the kitchen in the morning, how worried she looked, what you told him about his feelings… it all made his breath hitch in his throat. He heard her mumble something and realized he hadn’t responded yet. She was probably leaving, assuming he wasn’t there. Would she continue to look for him or just give up and go back to her chores?

“Come in,” he replied, his voice was hoarse, so he cleared his throat to try to make it better. He turned around to look at her, and as soon as she entered the room, her sweet, alluring scent hit his senses hard. He was so screwed.

“You didn’t show up for lunch,” she said with a smile that seemed to illuminate the whole room, and he thought he’d go blind. “So I brought you a plate and some blanc.” She set the tray on his coffee table, studying his face with a frown. “You look tired.”

“I stayed up all night.”

“Really? I didn’t hear your piano like I usually do.”

“I was in my bedroom, just couldn’t sleep,” he wearily answered.

“Mmm… If you need something, tell me,” she said, her voice filled with worry. “I’ll try to help in any way I can.”

“Yes, thank you,” he sighed.

“I mean it,” she said matter-of-factly, reassuring her support to him. He only nodded, and she smiled. “Great.”

He noticed how she stood in the middle of the room, looking at him and fidgeting with her fingers. “You want to ask about your lessons, right?” he inquired. She was too easy to read, and he found it delightful.

“Ah, well… yes. But I don’t wanna impose! You already spent the whole night awake, you should rest.”

“It’s fine. I’m free now,” he shrugged. If he was gonna suffer with her presence, it’d be better to just do it already. “What about you?”

“Ah, I need to help clean the kitchen, but then I’ll be free for a while!”

“Alright, I’ll be here then,” he tried to sound nonchalant as usual.

She left the room with a big smile and promised to be back quickly so as not to disturb his composing. If only she knew she was disturbing even when she wasn’t there — not that it was her fault anyway. With a deep sigh, Mozart got up and reached for the food and blanc she brought him, trying not to dwell on how the drink seemed to make no difference to his thirst.

xxx

Despite his heart telling him to scream from the balcony so the whole of Paris would hear that he liked MC, he didn’t do it. He kept quiet, even though it was proving to be hard to keep it to himself during their music lessons. And with each passing day, he felt like he was about to explode the whole mansion, because each day that passed brought him one day closer to her leaving.

“Wait, what was this note again?” she asked, pointing at the music sheet in front of them. Mozart had dragged another bench for her to sit beside him, to make it easier to teach her, of course.

“An E,” he replied patiently. “It’s this one here.” He played the key.

“Okay!” She tried playing again.

“Just remember, it changes when the clef changes.” She shot him a quizzical look, and he thought it was the most adorable expression he had ever seen on her face — at least at the moment; he believed she had many other ‘most adorable expressions’. He pointed to the music sheet. “Pay attention here. See? With the treble clef, it’s E. But with the bass clef, it’s G.”

“Ah, right…” She frowned and sighed. 

“Do you want to play with only your right hand for now? It’s easier.”

“No, I can do it!” She perked up and smiled again. She stared intently at the music sheet, and he heard her mumbling the notes to figure out where she should place her hands. “Here, right?”

“Right. But use this finger.” He gently guided her left hand, his touch lingering a second longer than necessary.

She hummed in agreement and started to play. She wasn’t the best music student, but he could tell she was really trying. Slowly pressing the keys, she took her time to think about which note to play and then executed it, prolonging all the durations. She was biting her lip in concentration, grimacing whenever her finger didn’t press the key with the necessary strength, and the sound was almost inaudible.

If any other person played the way she did, Mozart would find it hideous and make them stop. However, it was her. And as quickly as he figured out his feelings, he realized they ran deep, because, for him, she was playing something beautiful.

She was still in the first page and probably wouldn’t be able to finish learning the whole song before leaving, but he could tell that she was happy with just learning it at all. She had a huge smile when she turned to look at him, caught by surprise to find he was studying her face.

“A-ah… Erm… How was it?” She hesitated, the words seemed to fly away from her brain when she gazed into his eyes.

“Not the worst,” he replied.

He leaned over a little, enough to be closer than usual. Taking a deep breath, he frowned. It was already hard to sit beside her, but her scent was almost unbearably more intense this close. He twirled a lock of her hair around his index finger and brought it to his face, savoring her delicious scent as he kissed it without even realizing what he was doing.

“Um, Mozart?” she asked, her face blushing. 

“Are you wearing a new perfume?”

“No,” her voice was almost a whisper. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” he replied dismissively.

She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again when she looked into his eyes, noticing how they stared right into her soul. Her breath hitched, and she saw his gaze waver; it lasted for a second or two, but she noticed — she paid him enough attention.

He continued to stare at her intensely. With his keen ear, he clearly heard the hitch in her breath, and he wondered if he could also hear her heartbeat.

Could he hear her blood pumping in her veins?

Could he feel it?

Unconsciously, he leaned closer, entranced by his own thoughts.

He stopped when he heard her release a low whimper. What was he doing? His eyes widened slightly; he had never felt this out of control before. Though he should back away, he found himself unable to move. She showed no sign of retreating either. He assumed she was too stunned to move, and he was right, though not for the reason he initially thought.

She was already nervous around Mozart, but it intensified now. She wasn’t clueless or stupid; she knew she liked him, even if they had gotten close just a week ago or so. She didn’t want to tell him anything — not now, at least — and risk ruining the friendship they had just started. However, how was she supposed to keep it together when he acted like... that? She swore he was about to kiss her or... bite her — maybe both. Goosebumps ran up her spine, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm down her heart. Keyword: try.

“I-I’m on dust duty after this,” she stuttered, her voice still low. He raised an inquisitive brow, not following where this topic was coming from. “I’ll help Sebas with dinner later and probably go downtown with YN to run some errands. Some residents asked us to buy stuff next time we were downtown…” She was rambling; he had never seen her so nervous. She was always a talkative person, but there was something endearing about how she was speaking so rapidly and randomly in that moment. She even slipped in some words in her mother language. “I noticed we’re running out of coffee while brewing some this morning, so I have to buy some coffee too… Do you also drink tea? I like tea more than coffee. If you’d like to try some, I can tell you about the ones more likely to suit your taste.”

He couldn’t say anything in response. What was he supposed to say anyway? She stopped talking abruptly, licking her lips and biting them to prevent herself from nervously ranting again. His eyes flicked down to follow the motion and then turned to hers, observing how they apprehensively looked at him. 

Mozart knew his feelings were still new, but if he didn’t do or say something now, when would he? She’d leave in a day and a half… He didn’t have time. On the other hand, it could turn out badly and ruin everything for good. From his point of view, he had two options to consider at the moment: 1. feign innocence and kiss her cheek as a way of expressing friendship, pretending this was his idea from the start; 2. pull away and risk not being able to share his feelings with her, likely also lying that he never tried anything.

However, a third option lingered, one that existed only in her mind for now.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, she was never one to think before acting — that’s how she got there in the first place. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes tightly and prayed for the best, closing the gap between them. It was nothing more than a brush of lips, and then she pulled away slightly, fluttering her eyes open.

“What was that for?” His voice came out as a husky whisper. His face was flushed, and his eyes were unreadable; she thought he might be mad at her.

A little panicky, she straightened her body, averting her gaze. MC nervously fidgeted with her fingers, her throat felt dry, and she believed she had lost her voice. She thought about running away, lock herself in her bedroom, and cry until the door opened again, so she could throw herself straight to the 21st century even if this wasn’t what she wanted. Yes, she was thinking about staying, but if he got angry and she ended up ruining everything, her anxious mind thought it’d be better to just go back to her time in shame — not her home, because she felt at home in the mansion now.

“I-I-I…” She attempted to say something, but her voice caught in her throat, and her lips quivered. A soft sniffle escaped her, and she felt her cheeks getting wet. She wasn’t sure if her legs would be able to keep her steady enough to stand up and run now.

“Why are you crying?” His eyes widened momentarily. Internally, he was panicking and screaming, but he had to maintain a calm expression to avoid startling her further. Gently, he reached for her face, turning her to look at him while wiping away her tears.

MC tried to formulate something, but a sob was the only thing that came out. Feeling vulnerable, stupid, and confused, she found herself surprised by the gentle touch, especially after he had sounded annoyed when asking about the kiss.

Mozart couldn’t stand to see her crying, especially because he didn’t even understand why she was crying in the first place. He pulled her against his chest, embracing her reassuringly. “Don’t cry.” He threaded his fingers through her hair to help calm her down. “Stop crying already.” His words were stern, but his voice remained soft, gentle, and filled with concern. His calm façade was crumbling down.

It took her a few minutes to calm down, and Mozart held her in tightly the whole time. Finally, she let out a shuddered, relieved breath, and he tried to keep her in his arms, but she pulled away. Nervously, she glanced around the music room, as if searching for the right words. He didn’t press; he simply waited, gazing into her puffy eyes and her red, tear-stained face.

“I’m sorry,” she softly murmured. He considered saying something, but realized she probably had more to express; she was only struggling to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to impose and make you upset. It was stupid, and I apologize for… you know.”

“I’m not,” he replied, frowning. 

She looked at him as if she had discovered some brand new information. “You’re not?”

“No.” He raised an eyebrow. Was she bad at reading people or was he bad at showing his feelings? Perhaps a little bit of both.

“Annoyed then?” She frowned, trying to understand. “In any case, I apologize-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he interrupted. “But you indeed made a mistake.” Her eyes wavered for only a second.

Mozart leaned in closer again, but this time he didn’t stop to think; he just closed the gap between them. Keeping his eyes open to gauge her reaction, he noticed how she widened her eyes before closing them, and only then did he close his too. Sliding his hand behind her neck, he kept her close to deepen the kiss, feeling her shudder a breath and grab him by his lapel.

It was good, it was like being complete, and it was about to make Mozart be driven by bloodlust. He broke the kiss to gaze into MC’s eyes. She pulled back, and she was about to take her hands away from him, but he held them in place.

“Can you see your mistake now?” he asked, chuckling at her puzzled gaze.

She frowned while playing with his lapel. “But can you blame me?” she said, her voice still stammering a bit. “You send me mixed signals, I’m not sure how to feel, how you feel.”

Oh, he knew what the problem was. He was just too stubborn and shy to admit it out loud. Pulling her into a hug, he hid his flushing face from her while he contemplated how to confess. “I’ll try to make it clear from now on, so you better not cry about it again because I’ll keep you close for a good time.”

“Is this your way of telling me you like me?” She giggled, shaking his body with hers. “See, you need to practice the delivery; it’s still confusing. You talk like you’re scolding me.” She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him back with a squeeze.

“I know.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

They stayed there, enjoying the peace and quiet for a few minutes, until she looked up at him, placing her chin on his chest. “It’s really nice here, but I need to go.”

His arms instinctively tightened around her body. “No. I won’t let you go, I can’t.”

“But-”

“No buts. I’m being selfish, and I don’t care.” He gently cradled her face in his hands, treating her like the most precious and delicate thing in the whole world. “You’re staying, you hear me? I might not deserve you after mistreating you for a good time, but you can’t leave! You’re not allowed to leave me!”

Breathing heavily, as if he had just completed a marathon, Mozart continued to gaze into her eyes. His own eyes attempted to convey his feelings. She blinked a few times, tilting her head to the side and leaning into the palm of his hand. It was an action that would’ve made him swoon if not for the extremely confused expression on her face. Didn’t she feel the same? But they just kissed… Didn’t she want to stay?

“What are you saying?” she inquired.

“Exactly what you heard.”

Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, she tried to understand. A playful smile spread across her face in the next second. “Well, well, it looks like I’m not the only one making mistakes today, Mozart.”

He frowned and lightly pinched her cheeks. “Why are you laughing?”

“I was talking about needing to go help Sebastian with dinner.”

“... What?”

“I should ask you: what?” She chuckled. “Did you think I was talking about going to the future? Because I’m not going back; I’ll stay here in the mansion. I already talked to Comte.”

He blinked slowly, processing her question. “You’re not going back home?”

“Mmm, I’m already home.” She flashed him a loving smile, and his heart skipped a beat. “I made up my mind last week. I like it here better than in the future.”

“But you said you wanted to learn the music to play when you went home…”

“Ah, yes… Well, I wasn’t exactly lying; I was still indecisive then. However, I also used it as an excuse to spend more time with you and see if I could do something about my feelings.”

“Honestly…” Mozart sighed and frowned, but she could see him suppressing a smile. “What am I gonna do with you? You better take responsibility for deceiving me.”

He leaned down to kiss her once more, and she laughed. It was so typical of him; she was already getting the hang of reading into his words and actions, but she knew she’d get even better.

They’d have plenty of time, after all.

xxx

Little bonus scene:

Comte was throwing another party to celebrate another guest deciding to permanently live there with them — and he was going all out again.

You were sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand, your boyfriend’s arm over your shoulder, and happiness bubbling inside you. It all felt familiar, as if this entire scene had happened before. And it really had, but things had changed a lot since last time.

This time, you didn’t have to drag your brother or pull the young sibling charm to convince him to play; he was there by his own accord, sitting by the piano with his girlfriend and smiling. You saw Shakespeare passing by, staring at Mozart’s smile, probably thinking someone had already given him alcohol. You knew he hadn’t drunk anything; as cheesy and sappy as it sounded, he was drunk on love.

Arthur was nuzzling his nose against your face and kissing you like another love-drunk vampire when you heard MC’s voice ringing in front of you.

“Hey, guys!” She sat by your other side, smiling. 

Mozart wasn’t with her, but he arrived a few seconds later, with a plate of appetizers and a drink in his hands. He frowned looking at you three and turned to MC, going to sit on her other side. He could sit between you and her, but despite not liking to share her attention, he knew she liked talking to you — and you to her. He gave her the food and drink, and she beamed at him, kissing his cheek.

You and Arthur couldn’t help but notice that Mozart didn’t take a second look in your direction, not even saying anything about how close you were or anything. To his credit, he had been better ever since he and MC got together; his possessive and petty behavior was now fully focused on his girlfriend — who thankfully knew very well how to handle it. They were really a good couple, and you were happy that you had the whole idea of setting them up.

“Told you he needed to get laid to relax,” Arthur said with a mischievous grin.

MC and Mozart whipped their heads to you and Arthur, widening their eyes, while you sighed loudly.

“You really need to stop saying these things out loud…”

Aaaand it’s over! Thank you for your patience waiting for this last update! 🤍

Masterlists

[nirawrite-holab-if]

Is Brandr close to MC's siblings? Was there an occurrence that made him afraid for MC (like MC falling from a scared horse or a political enemy etc)?

He gets along well with the MC's siblings, Philon and Briallen, mostly. The twins he sees less but still has a good relationship with.

I wrote something about one of Brandr's moments with the MC in a "mundane" situation ...

When the news that the MC was sick reached Brandr's ears, he didn't believe it.

He had spent hours with them playing by the lake, and they were healthier than ever. Plus, they're a hybrid! What can sicken a hybrid? And what had happened so extreme as to act against their health just now?

Immediately, he made his way to the MC's room, still not believing what he had heard.

A misinterpretation of the words, of course.

It was only when he entered the hybrid's room and saw that not only was the MC lying on the bed motionless, but there was also the royal healer standing next to them and the king and queen, that he felt the weight of the words spoken earlier.

His heartbeat quickened as he advanced into the room; it was as if his body weighed a ton. His steps were slow and uncertain.

"What happened?" He asked no one in particular, the eyes fixed on the MC's tired face and their heavy eyes as if they were sleepy, but there was a visible suffering there.

"And what are you doing to help them? Don't you see that they're in pain?" He growled at the healer, who stepped back, looking outraged.

"Pardon?"

"Brandr," the Queen's voice, was calm but firm, and Brandr averted his eyes from the MC only to hear the Queen. "The princex is getting the best care from the most skilled healer in the kingdom; soon they'll be feeling better".

"With all due respect, my queen," Brandr said, trying to keep his voice steady and his worry under control. "But how can the healer guarantee this? The little monst... I mean, the Princex, is a hybrid. What if this is something new? What if they don't get better?"

He stopped talking as his voice began to tense with fear at what might happen to the MC if this was something deadly.

Instead of taking offense at his tone or his words, the queen just smiled sympathetically at him.

"Your concerns are well-founded, and I won't deny that," she said, casting a brief glance over her shoulder to where the MC was and then back to him. "But you're forgetting one thing," she paused before adding, "the MC is a child. A child who spent the day by the lake at the time of the change of seasons and, I'm sure, stayed some time with their wet clothes before returning to the castle. It seems hard to believe, but the MC just has the flu."

"A flu?" He repeated it uncertainly.

"Yes, we have already used all the detection spells on them, and nothing else has revealed itself to us."

"It's the flu. The first flu they caught, that's not easy even for grown elves," Aedh interjected, making himself heard for the first time. "Besides, I trust that our healer is taking very good care of the princex; he wouldn't be foolish to let something bad happen to the king's grandchildren. His princex. Future heir to the kingdom." That last part seemed to contain an explicit warning that made the healer widen his eyes.

"We all understand, father," the queen interrupted, sounding livid.

"The princex will be feeling considerably better in the morning," the healer assured, his full attention now on the MC. "But they need rest and to stay hydrated."

Brandr didn't leave the room even when the king and queen released him to do so, assuring him they would send for him if anything happened.

Instead, he spent the night sitting next to the MC's bed. Waiting.

Brandr had focused so much on the MC as an unbeatable hybrid that he didn't even stop to think that, despite everything, they were still a child. A small child.

Subject to being exposed to the same dangers and viruses as other children.

And to emphasize his thoughts, a soft sneeze made the MC stir on the bed.

And Brandr began to relax for the first time since entering the room. Just a flu, right?

Just the flu.

[plaindangan]

(Cowede stupid brain woke them up way too early and way too "unrested" so might as well re-ask all the asks that are now gone)

Part 2 of the "miu turns herself into android miu and decide to be the freaking best and never ever stop anything, always bigger, better, sexier, miuer" (you may want to reread part 1, and as a reminder 10 parts are prepared in my mind and ready to be thrown whenever the previous one is responded too) also I know you tend to dislike when I write long asks which are a bit too detailed cos u feel like you have a checklist and it stresses you ? But bear with me for that one ok ? I kinda need to write down right now.)

Alright sooo! Mecha miu’s first real challenge ended up being a bit of a dull! Not only did kokichi called her mid (she may not remember what was said, only thing mattering ? She didn’t hear him calling her a godess and it’s a freaking SCANDAL) BUT also when the battle, the war that is sex with his omega sized shlong came, she lost against it for hours and hours on end, only to win a technicallity but so much tired it took her 50 hours of sleep (which she hates)

Luckily for the self proclaimed galaxy sized ego trash talking "mama" internet did have her back, and she won over a million gooners, and of course ? The only other thing almost as good as herself and sex, MONEY~ dollars, moulah, dineros. God being so rich is such a girl(for now) hard on~

Buuut since she’s now the top 1 best bitch in the whole world (self proclaimed) as well as the richest motherfucker around (nope sonia is still a thing and I’m pretty sure junko owns like… the continent ? Probably) with the best biggest set of tits (debatable, have you SEEN akane and kaede’s juggs ?. And once again, junko) she deserve matching company~! She wants an entourage that will scream "I’m the freaking best" and that if possible isn’t just a bunch of quickmade army of robots she’ll all call Garry.

She wants big, she wants strong, she wants the best.

So when kirumi enters the sight, miu brain’s cum on the spot~

It’s a well known fact that the GOLEM OF A MILF OF A MAID is Thiccer than genetically possible, can like, lift the entire planet (once again, miu’s brain, yet not even that farfetched?) and maaaay be the only person in her class who doesn’t need to look up to see mecha miu’s face and who can actually see it instead of a massive pair of jugs that block the view. Plus she’s soooo cold unemotional and sexy she makes actually not showing skin so HAWT, and don’t even get miu started on how PUFFY is her dress, just how huuuuge is she? Damn miu wouldn’t mind being her broom for all life… BUT MECHA MIU AINT NO BITCH (well she is, but she’s the freaking best!) and she ain’t gonna submit to no one~ and she knows one thing for sure, is that the godamn russian actual weapon megalith of a maid (who’s actually just Japanese. Teeeechnically prime minister in secret but Not a weapon but a human made of flesh and bones, but try explaining that to a drooling panting awooga eyes going mecha miu) RESPECT ONE THING ABOVE ALL: the power or a freak load of cash~ and with infinite wealth mecha miu ponders on one thing~… how much money will she throw away at her before kirumi’s corrupted to the ideal equally trash talking, rude, coldest and unemotional but as perverted as mama, dressing even more provocally than the mechanized menaced, and solely focused on giving miu the greatest life ever to the point where no one else matters in the whole godamn universe (as long as she continues showering the maid in ungodly amounts of money) and even maybe let miu experiment a shit ton on her body and make her the MK-2 mega bot-woman/wife/secretary/fucktoy/momma/mistress/pig/slave/goddess/whatever miu fucking needs at any moment with no regard for her previous role even if it came out 2 seconds before and it was drastically different because all for miu ?

( Long intro done tldr : corruption based ask (in like… 5 step ? Can be shorten, or on the contrary make more if you have ideas) that takes kirumi (she’s like canon kirumi, but beeeeg and while just as nice and serviceable, way more fucking cold (which makes her more hot) into miu’s fantasy of the perfect maid who will be solely focus into inflating miu’s ego even more and make her live the ridiculously gaudy trashy life she freaking deserves through the sheer power of MONEY.)

(If possible, no major shift in personality, from the get go kirumi is a terminator that doesn’t express much feelings, but get the job done perfectly always, just she doesn’t have favorites, she’s polite, listen to others, and the fully corrupted is just as cold, but way more crude and rude, dresses like miu likes without miu even needing to tell her, mechanized too, and doesn’t care about anything else but her owner and the money she gets from her, and spoils her owner so bad and does everything so perfectly for her miu’s brain sometime shut off entirely because why would she need it when kirumi’s around(if someone else gives them a request than their mistress ? They better be ready to get trash talked and ego crushed so bad they’ll die on the spot 10 times in a row) )

(You know me and my tastes, don’t hesitate to go over the top when it comes to the rude and lewd dialog, stuff like expressions, definition of body sizes, how much of a open menace of a galaxy sized ego and lust miu is. Unlike the kokichi one (not saying it wasn’t amazing) have miu actually win and fill her half robot ego even more)

(AND MOST IMPORTANTLY : have fun! I know lately we don’t talk much and you’re focused (good for you you seem to be enjoying it!) on the island asks. So maybe this is less interesting, if there are stuff in this ask you don’t want to do, don’t hesitate to come and talk to me in dm’s you halara gendered queen/king and a massive warm Cowede hug to do with pure genuine thoughts, because it just feels nice!))

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

Miu will never doubt the power of SIMPS ever again~

Don't get her wrong...the first fuck of her life after upgrading herself to her mecha goddess form was one she'll never forget (or ever not long for. Seriously, why the fuck was that gremlin's cock so damn hung and why was he good at using it?!!!) and she'll always cherish it...

But being the goddamned bottom bitch again wasn't why she burnt all the cash to be in this body now was it?!!!

OF COURSE NOT!!!

The new Miu - The Perfect Miu was at her best when she had people worshipping her, applauding her, bowing to her greatness and sending her money. Lot's of money. More money than any average joe would ever see in their lifetime!!! And the quickest way for that? Only Fans!!!!!~

Once she began uploading pics and videos of herself, the dough began to flood in like crazy!!! Because, as she obviously anticipated, loads of people went crazy from a tall, hot, blonde (literal) bombshell, cyborg GF whose cybernetic hips looked as if they could milk about ten cocks a minutes if they were to PLAP down without care or hands they could vibrate their cocks to a white sticky mess almost as good as a pussy could~ Though, honestly, just being a cyborg was enough for the Internet to give her the love and admiration she craved!!! She was lined up for interviews, tech companies that wanted to know how she did it, sponsorships who were eager to plaster her name out for their brands to benefit from this bionic beauty!

She had it all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...So...what's wrong? She did achieve her dream, she got what she wanted, so what was missing? Well, as she came to realize, as great as this fame was...it was kind of lonely without anyone else she knew not being with her. She's been so damned busy being the bestest, perfect, mind numbingly awesome, bitch there was she...kinda didn't have anyone else from the V3 class to rely on. N-n-not that the PERFECT Miu Iruma truly needed them!!!!

It's just...nice to have some people around from time to time. That's all!!

But, most importantly, it's nice to have people around from time to time...especially, once they were on her level! Emphasis on 'on her level'.

And, of her batch, who could reach that but someone in similar body-type: like Kirumi? Seriously, she was pretty much just a fully organic version of Miu at the moment. Taller than freaking average (6"8 ft), muscley arms and abs hidden underneath that damningly deceptive maid dress, and on that note? You know what it was failing to hide? Why, Kirumi's shirt straining, mouth-wateringly, magnificently, massive, milkers!!!! And that ass, oh Godddddd, that ass!!! Miu was convinced that darn Russian maid must have been using every last cent she drained from the balls of her clients to get a booty the size of a mini-van on her....but nope!!! Hacking into her medical records, seems like it was all natural!!!

...Which made Kirumi the perfect woman to bring into to the Miutourage!!!! Just think about it?! Bimbo Bionic Bod, MILF Mecha Maid? They'd be an unbeatable combo!!

And it should easy to just wink and Kirumi would-

"No." said the maid. Cold and to the point.

"Oh fuck off I didn't say shit yet!!!" whined Miu.

"You don't need to say anything for me to know it will be something ridiculous." Kirumi said dismissively. Currently, she was handling a broom and gently dusting at the floor.

"Tch, fine!!!! So will ya listen if I request something?" Now that had the robotic-acting maid pause, ears perked.

"Perhaps."

"Greedy-ass bi-I mean...look. As it stands I am the epitome of perfection!!! But, that being said, it has come to my notice that I need...someone to assist with helping to enhance said perfection. As such, I am willing to pay you quite a lot in order to be by my side until further notice. As in 'six figures' a lot~ You in?"

...

"Make it seven figures."

"WHAT?!!! I-I don't have that kin-"

"There are billboards with you ranging from eating cheap ramen to lingerie. You have more than enough money to cover myself for a long period of time."

"......Frigging hustler. FINE!"

"Then we have a deal - I'll write a contract to set it in stone."

"Fiiiiine....butalsoFYII'mgonnahavetodoafewmindnadbodyalteringexperimentsonyousojustsoyouknowSEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAA!!!!" with that Miu skedaddled, letting it sink in to Kirumi that she might be in for one helluva time.

...

"...Oh dear."

-

And thus, we get to the present.

"--Fucking Hell what a day." Miu grumbled. She's been on the road since 6 AM doing "Perfect Mecha Goddess' stuff and was utterly beat. Currently, she had stripped naked and was just lying in bed. Frustrated and in need of some relief.

"The 'fucking usual', Mistress Iruma?" A shark-like smile appeared on Miu's face as the relief of the hour came to her.

Behold the new Kirumi - one most suitable to be the first of the Miutourage.

Naturally, she was enhanced to a certain someone's specifications.

Replacing her arms were pretty much gauntlets that would get anyone to think twice about questioning her. Though on her hands her maid gloves seem to persist.

Her hair had been grown out until those silky sheets reached down to her thighs.

Those cold unfeeling green eyes? Replaced with icy-blue cybernetic ones that were constantly heart-shaped!!

Her washboard abs were in full on showcase mode - mostly thanks to Kirumi rocking about in what seemed like only a black lace bra and a matching thong!

Her hips seemed to have the most work down to them as her thighs were now equipped with sleek, silver metal, making it look as if she was wearing some sort of knight's armor instead.

Lastly, to note, she was rocking dark-green lipstick and matching eyeshadow. Well, okay, that and a new spiderweb tattoo over her aforementioned milkers - can't get rid of her old aesthetic after all~

"You know what I like...get to it!!! You don't get paid per week for nothing after all~"

"Fine. Conducting the 'Pussy-Annihilating Orgasmic Fondling'...yet again on your needy whore-ass. You are truly an utterly useless sex addict." said Kirumi in the same polite, if cold, tone she always had...if the only thing really changing was her harsh language to Miu.

What most wouldn't know is that Miu modified Kirumi's vocal chords to emit a soundwave that absolutely rocked Miu's brain to its core with pleasure for every insult Kirumi threw at her. Because what good is a prim and proper maid to someone that wants the world to embrace its raunchiness?~

Speaking of raunchy, time for the Kirumi's 'service' to her Mistress. Removing her gloves. underneath was seemingly a flesh hand...only in seconds it turned into quite the vibrator. Big, thick and no surprise on who it's gonna be used for~

"Brace yourself...I feel like taking my time." With impressive speed, Kirumi shove the vibrator into Miu's already dripping snatch. Much to her howling, moaning, delight!!" "F-f-f-f-fuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkk yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!!! O-oi,,, get with the tit massageeeeeeeeeee!!!" Miu ordered snapping her fingers.

"Again, that costs extra."

"I DON'T CAAAAAAAAAAREEEEEEEE!!!"

"As you desire, you cum-brained skank. How many times this week have I done this to you? I'm surprised your brains haven't been reduced to a pink mush. But I suppose no matter what: you don't care. So long as you have the world's eye, using your own peer as a living vibrator to get off on is nothing to you. You truly are a shameless piece of vapidness, aren't you? You filthy, degenerate, goddamned, bimbo flaunting, high maintenance, slut!~" Kirumi said curtly, mentally turning up the vibrator to absurd high levels as she fucked the horny inventor. Although her tone tried to remain even, Kirumi couldn't help but slip by the end. Of how much she was enjoying this treatment as well. After all, if she was getting paid millions just to be used by a the world's horniest inventor goddess - wouldn't you take some pride in your position too? (It also didn't help that she turned her other arm into a vibrator too and was getting herself off to the situation - Mistress never said she couldn't after all~)

"YESSSSSSSS, BIIIIIITCHHHHHH, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!!!" Miu said in delight, her entire mansion filled with her screams of passion. Her screams of utter victory for herself. At yet another highlight as to why SHE was clearly worthy of having the titles of Goddess in this world~ After all, who else but a Goddess could modify a human so thoroughly and be able to induce carnal pleasure like this?!! Who else but a Goddess could replicate a perfect 'upgrade' not once, but twice? Who else but a Goddess could turn someone else into a perfect servant to suit their needs down to the T?~

That's right...

No one, but her~

[atcwhitney]

Flores Malas

8/21/2024. 10:03pm.

I know people tend to be passive-aggressive here in Los Angeles. I was born and raised here, and for some (in hindsight) unfathomable and regrettable reason, I even moved back here after San Francisco and New York.

I moved here partly to work for a nightclub called Cloak and Dagger. One of the founders reached out to me, explaining he wanted someone to take on a role that was part-creative director, part-content creator, and was a fan of my work. I had been a full-time videographer and photographer with clients like Levi's, Lucasfilm, Absolut and Dolby under my belt.

To make a long story a bit shorter, I eventually quit Cloak and Dagger, partly because I wasn't being paid anymore, and partly because friends of mine started telling me stories that they had been confronted with predatory behavior due to the toxic nature of the environment and permitted by the founders, who (they insisted) didn't care. Anything from unwanted and repeated sexual advances all the way to being drugged and in one case, being raped.

Once I had collected a fair amount of such anecdotes and seen enough suspicious behavior with my own eyes in glimpses and glances, I brought these concerns to the attention of the founders and was brushed aside.

This after one of them had pretended to be a close friend, coming to my weekly movie nights at my apartment, until the moment that my other friend refused his sexual advances. From then on, he stopped coming to movie night and didn't hang out with me (or promise her a music career) anymore unless he needed me to work for free for him and the club, which was getting tons of press as apparently the hottest exclusive goth night in Los Angeles, while I rubbed elbows with some of the creepiest roofie-cradling sycophants imaginable.

The night I quit, I walked a girl to her car who had just started working at Cloak and Dagger. When we arrived, I shared with her that I had quit and my reasons why. She told me that my experience made no sense to her, and that she had only ever been welcomed with open arms, treated with respect and felt supported there. I repeated my concerns briefly, told her to be careful, and wished her good luck, walking to my car.

Years later, when I worked at an occult school, this same person found me on Instagram and messaged me. She apologized. She said she should have listened that one night when I walked her to her car. I'd rather not type any more.

Flashback to the gaslighting I endured leading up to, during and after me quitting Cloak and Dagger. I kept my lips tightly shut and even doubted what I had seen and heard after some time, having found so much resistance from so many angles. I regretted even speaking up at all. I felt foolish.

A few years after the night I quit, an LA Times article was published effectively verifying everything I had experienced and warned people about, only to get (at the time) anything from blank stares to active hostility in return, and everything in-between.

I realized it didn't matter how I was treated for speaking out. I was right. The only mistake was in feeling bad about it, and feeling bullied into being confused and scared after the fact.

I learned my lesson back then.

Today, I went to work at the barbershop I've worked at since April of 2024. I had a return client right away, and then I sat down and waited for walk-ins.

A customer who usually sits with Rigo, the owner, came in as a walk-in and sat with me. I faced him towards the mirror.

He asked me for a mid-fade and to go short on the top. I pointed at the side of his head, where I think a mid-fade should go.

"A mid-fade? Skin up to here?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

I picked up the top of his hair and held my fingers horizontally across a good half of the length.

"Take this much off?"

"I don't know. Short."

"More than this?"

I moved my fingers closer to his scalp.

"Like this?"

He looked confused.

"...or more?"

I moved my fingers even closer to the scalp.

"I've got a picture."

"That's great! Let's see..."

He took out his phone and showed a picture of himself. His hair was slicked down sideways and it was hard to tell how long it really was. And since he was facing the camera, rather than in profile, I could tell there was a mid-fade but couldn't see much beyond that.

I figured that was enough for us to be on the same page.

"Got it, thanks man."

"Yeah, just go real short on top..."

I picked up his hair and moved my fingers a little lower than last time. Now it was so short it might not be possible to trim with scissors, and might require a machine to cut.

"This short?"

"Yeah! Exactly. I want to be able to do a side-part comb-over."

I thought this was a curious expression. I think of a comb-over as what a balding guy (not this guy) does to hide his balding-ness, beyond being a redundant phrase beyond simply, "side-part."

But I hid such amusement and continued the consultation, not wanting to start cutting his hair before he and I understood what I could reasonably guess was the same thing, or close enough to it for a haircut. I said:

"If I cut it this short, you won't have enough hair to comb-over. It'll just stand straight up."

He started looking agitated alongside being confused. I tried to interject to squash the awkward moment incoming...

"...I mean, I'm happy to cut it this short, I just think you have to decide if you want enough hair to brush over, or if you want to go this short, and have it stand up no matter what, like..."

...Terminator 2 had just been on the shop TV recently...

"...Arnold Schwarzenegger."

He affected a nervous laugh, clearly trying be a good sport, thus making two of us.

He said, "I have another picture."

"Ok, perfect, let's have a look."

He pulled out his phone again and showed me a picture of himself with totally different hair from the first picture, as well as different hair to what we had agreed upon so far. In this picture, he didn't have a fade, but plenty of hair on the sides and clearly on the back, with longer hair on top than he had right now, sitting in my chair.

"Okay, did you still want a fade?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have a fade in this picture."

"Well, yeah, this is grown out."

"Okay, so you're showing me a picture of...not the haircut you want, but of a haircut that's grown out?"

"I'm saying I want something as short or shorter than this," he said, as if it were a matter of simplicity itself, in fact.

"Oh, okay, I got it," I lied. What was there to get? I was more confused at this point than at any point so far.

He put his phone away and I reached up my hands like Ricky Bobby, a little shakily, towards the top of his head, trying to think of something to do or say to make this interaction make some kind of sense to someone.

"...So, we knock out the mid-fade and I'll cut some off the top, and I'll show you where we're at, and you can let me know if we should cut more?"

He smiled and nodded, "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay." Hopefully this was good to go now.

I figured I would start cutting and check in at stages, so he could feel invited to direct me down to the last centimeter, if need be. I was perfectly happy to do this. I didn't have any other walk-ins waiting, nor any clients with appointments I was worried would be made late by any of this.

I picked up the top of his hair, decided to cut the first mark I had showed him, which was the most conservative amount, knowing we could more easily cut more than put the hair back.

I made the first cut.

I added hair to this cut hair to begin the process, planning to cut all of the top and then show him the results with a hand mirror, so he could let me know to cut more, which I assumed he probably would.

Before I could make the second cut, he said, "I just want it really short. REALLY SHORT."

I dropped the hair I was holding and lowered both hands to my sides, looking at him in the mirror from behind the chair.

"So...do you want me to just shave your head?"

"No, no, no, not THAT short. Just SHORT. You know."

I nodded in slow-motion, just looking at him, hoping, maybe even praying, that he would say something helpful in that moment before I would be obliged to break the tension myself.

He didn't. He just looked at me like a deer in headlights.

After an interminable pause, the stare-down developed into the briefest tinge of frustration playing on his face.

I finally talked.

"I hope you understand that I'm just trying to give you what you want and cut your hair the way you have it in your mind, I'm not trying to make this difficult." That last was a mistake. I shouldn't have suggested it might appear I was even remotely making anything difficult. Had I been less insecure in that moment, I would have either left that part out, or been honest and told him he was, in fact, making this difficult for both of us.

He simply said a perfunctory-sounding, "Right."

"Okay, how about I finish cutting this part I started..."

...I pointed with the scissors towards the hair I had just cut...

"...and when it's all cut, I'll show it to you, and you can let me know to cut more if you want, and how much more."

He nodded and smiled. "Okay."

I continued with second cut, then picked up enough hair to make my third cut. By then, he spoke up again.

"Oh, yeah, that's perfect."

"Oh! Okay, cool, sounds good."

Sigh of relief, but somehow more confused than ever. I just kept going.

I cut the entire top.

"How's the length on top?"

"It's good. Looks good."

"Okay, I'm gonna start on the fade now..."

"Cool."

I spun him around, lifted his chair, grabbed the clippers, and started fading his hair on the side.

"Could you shave off my beard too after this?"

"Sure! You want a full straight-razor shave? Everything off?"

"Everything off, but no straight-razor, just clippers."

"Okay, sounds good."

I continued the haircut.

After the fade was blended into the top, I showed him the mirror and stood behind him with the other mirror, angling it so he could see the back and each side.

"Is this cool?"

"It's good."

"Okay, sounds good man."

I put the mirror away and proceeded to, and finished, the face.

Once he was all cleaned off, I lowered the chair and took the cape off of him and he got up.

"Thank you so much for coming in today man, I appreciate you."

"Thank you, I appreciate it. Can I pay with card?"

"Of course!"

He paid.

I reached out for his hand. He shook it.

"Thanks again man, have a great day."

"You too."

He turned and waved at Rigo and then left the shop.

I started cleaning my station. Rigo got up from his chair at the opposite end of the barbershop and sauntered over to me.

"Hey fool, how was that guy just now?"

"He was cool! No problem."

I wasn't lying. It's pretty common to have customers like that. Rigo has them and so does the guy next to me. So much so that the guy next to me has a customer who comes to him every month and is so confusing and difficult, even after all this time, the barber routinely goes outside after the service to decompress and smoke weed and (occasionally) complain about said customer.

"I'm firing you, fool."

I thought he was joking. I laughed.

"What?"

He was stone-faced. Now his hand was on top of my station, the other hand on his hip, and he was leaning in towards me.

"You're fired. That's your last cut at the shop. Take your attitude to Proper Barbershop. I don't want that here, in my shop."

I realized he wasn't joking.

He produced a trash bag like it was a magic trick, seemingly out of a hat, and threw it on top of my tools.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah, fool. You're just not a good fit for this shop, or for this industry, either."

"Oh."

I looked at the trash bag on my station because I was starting to notice that he was standing uncomfortably close. His face was leaning in more and more and his eyes had the same look they had on them when he talked about kicking a homeless person sleeping outside one morning, or when he would tell me (often) "These fools are all fucking idiots," about the customers at his shop.

I looked back at him and made eye contact again.

He continued, "...That fool is cool as fuck. That fool is COOL as FUCK. You talked to him in a way sort of to make that fool feel stupid. You know what I mean?"

I nodded, not sure what else to do in that moment.

He went on.

"...I was actually gonna fire you on the spot when I listened to you talk to that fool but I decided to wait until the haircut was done and do it now."

I nodded again.

In an instant, I played back the entire service in my head. The overall arc was that of the walk-in asking for confusing things and me asking questions, looking for clarity. Then shaking hands and him leaving.

I remembered Rigo telling me multiple times in the months I had worked at his shop, "These fools are stupid, they don't know what they want, you just pretend to listen to what they want and then do what YOU want. YOU'RE the professional."

I also remembered actually implementing that patently unethical advice and then having a customer respond to that by complaining about his service, and then Rigo in turn blaming me for that, too.

So from then on, I did what seemed fair and listened to customers for real, which is what I would do anyway outside of peer pressure, and if I was confused, admitted this, and consulted with the client until things became clear enough to proceed in some measure of good faith with whatever service was going on.

All in all, I felt the walk-in and I were both confused and, at turns, frustrated by the consultation for the start of the service, and then ended the service on the same page with a handshake.

I even thought I had seen this walk-in leaving me a tip out of the corner of my eye before handing me back my phone with the Square app open before I put it in my pocket.

I blinked and said:

"Do you want to talk about it? Or give me a second chance?"

"No, fool. Pack your shit up, the sooner the better. You're not my employee, so I can't tell you what to do. You run your own business. But you run your OWN business in MY SHOP, and I DON'T want your BUSINESS in MY SHOP."

"Okay."

"Don't even bother to sweep up," he said as he turned and walked back to his chair, sat down, pulled out a vape and started puffing up plumes of weed and scrolling on his phone.

I knew I had to pack up all my tools, spread out across four shelves and four or five drawers of a nearby toolbox, into this flimsy trash bag and leave immediately. I had enough tools as a barber that when I had "moved in" at this shop, I had brought rolling luggage and a backpack for most of it, bringing more stuff later.

I dutifully kept quiet and packed up all my things into the trash bag, hoping it would fit everything.

I realized I hadn't even cleaned or disinfected any of my tools yet by the time Rigo confronted me. I was still having a hard time believing any of this was happening.

I kept throwing expensive tools loose into the trash bag, covered in hair and other, worse, things. I knew I couldn't stop to clean and take care of my gear, he'd made that pretty clear.

Once I was done, I went to wash my hands in the bathroom.

I came back into the rest of the shop and dapped Rigo, saying, "Thanks for everything, man."

"Thank YOU, Compadre Whitney."

I walked towards the front door, dapping the other barber on the way.

"Take it easy, Tali."

"You too, Whitney."

I picked up my bag of tools and left the shop.

It wasn't until I was on the freeway, sitting in traffic, that I started thinking...

...the irony of the barber / owner who also happens to be—according to the second longest-serving barber there, my own observation, and reviews on Yelp (complete with the one calling him out by name and including a photo of him in the review)—a barber with questionable customer service skills at best, who decides to fire me on the spot for apparently being rude, or whatever my "attitude" otherwise consists of, which he refuses to discuss with me...

...this irony in particular...

...is just richer than he is since he let go of his cleaning lady weeks ago...

I spent the rest of the drive home thinking about how I had just been fired from a job for the first time since I was in my 20s, which was 20 years ago.

Thinking about how, even with my and my fiancée's full-time jobs, we have barely been getting by even after moving to the valley to save money.

Thinking about how he didn't stop at firing me, but implied a physical threat that I felt viscerally and was scared by, insulted me, insulted somehow even the Proper Barbershop while he was at it, and did all of this with the utmost hypocrisy and no chance for actionable feedback.

Right before I arrived home, I realized I hadn't grabbed my barber license, which I knew had been hanging above the big mirror.

I parked the car and grabbed the bag of tools. As they jostled and I was jaywalking across Magnolia towards the apartment complex, picking up pace while a car came careening out of a side street right towards me, my clippers turned on inside the bag.

The machine shook the whole bag in my hands and the sound of the blades vibrating while buried under a mountain of tools was loud enough to somehow hear over traffic. I imagined the worst, thinking, "there's no way."

Then the bottom of the bag broke and my tools hit the concrete in the middle of the street.

Had I gotten hit by that car, I wouldn't be typing this on August 21, but here we are.

My fiancée and I sobbed on the floor of the apartment while I put dirty clippers, scissors, razors and combs into my rolling luggage piece-by-piece and the cat watched us, unmoved.

I'm still not sure something wasn't broken.

I wanted to write this account up before enough time passed that my memory became fuzzy.

Before I could check and find out.

Once I wasn't crying, or remembering Rigo calling me a "fag" randomly at work, or some other uncomfortable memory of my time at Barbershop Las Flores, I realized he had done me a huge favor.

I know my worth now and I feel confident at cutting hair for the first time in my career. I'll never not call out the kind of behavior I took from Rigo from day one anywhere else ever again. If it happens day one, I walk day one. I deserve better.

I checked my phone for the first time since I had been fired.

I had an appointment for tomorrow.

It must have been booked in between me getting fired and me arriving home and finally checking my phone. Possibly right at the moment that my tools landed in the middle of Magnolia Blvd.

I cancelled the appointment, apologized to that customer and blocked off my availability at Barbershop Las Flores.

Then I thought about something.

I checked the transaction from Rigo's customer.

He tipped me ten dollars.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Never Tell, Chapter - a Malevolent AU

Arthur and Bella Lester are not in love. They came together as friends, to protect each other, to give one another the freedom to live—and love—as they pleased.

Having a child was supposed to be part of that—quieting the rumors, providing a shield. But it wasn’t one baby; it was two… and something is very wrong with their golden-eyed son.

Chapter Three: Bella is not well. The infection has set in, and she's feverish, high on morphine, and altogether feeling fucky.

Surely that means her visitor isn't real.

Right?

Warnings for mentions of historical homophobia and medical practices. Also a deeply irreverent Bella.

AO3

-----

Bella heard her father talking to the nurses before he was even in the room. He just never spoke quietly, that guy. Oozed authority, commanded respect, filled empty spaces with his presence.

This was gonna be a challenge. She was feverish; she was high as all hell (heaven?) on morphine; she was still in pain, and still feeling… fucky.

That was the word. Fucky. “English studies can bite my ass,” she muttered to no one.

She was also feeling really torn, and not just down in good old Mount Pleasant.

On one hand, she really could’ve used another day without him. She’d have to pretend, to be the good wife, the good daughter, the good whatever, and she really didn’t wanna do that.

But on the other, she was grateful he was around to show up.

The last year had been educational. When you rolled your eyes over your dad’s latest letter and complained about how much he wanted you to have a good education (which she obviously would not, now), it sort of sobered you up to realize no one would ever ask after your new fake husband.

He had no one to catch him if he fell. No one to care when he got hurt. No one to hold him when he cried. No one to comfort him, or encourage him. Or even fight with him over stupid shit that only family could fight over.

He did it all alone, and it wasn’t really… right?

Arthur was a good guy. Sure, selfish sometimes (which made a fuck-ton of sense, given how lonely he was), but he should have people. It wasn’t right he had no people.

She supposed she was his people, and she was good with that. He needed someone in his life who really understood him.

What was this, protectiveness? That was the wrong word, and all kinds of backwards, anyway, what with her being the dame and him not (though she’d certainly tease him about that gender role swap any day).

She was drifting. Here came dad. Time to focus up.

“Bella.”  He sat in the chair Arthur had pulled forward.

She smiled as prettily as she could, the picture-perfect elder’s daughter, weary and faithful and hallowed by childbirth. “Dad. You came.”

“Of course I came.” The concern on his face erased his usual vague disapproval. “Bella… you look terrible.”

Whoopsie-daisy, turns out getting chopped open was not good prep for a beauty contest. “I’m afraid I can’t help that.”

He touched her forehead. “And you’re feverish.”

“Eh. Turns out I need that thing… I dunno, what’s it called, blood?”

He looked very serious. “Did you forget the word, or are you being facetious?”

She sighed. “Dad…”

“I’m making sure. Blood loss can have an effect on the brain.”

Oi. “My brain is fine. I’m in a lot of pain. I lost blood. I’m off my noggin on morphine. All of these things will get fixed over time. Hey… thanks for coming.” She did mean it. She knew he loved her. She knew he struggled with liking her, and struggled with trusting her, ever since he’d caught her and Deacon Smith’s daughter, years ago.

(To be perfectly fair, Bella could now admit that making out in the choir robe closet had not been the smartest choice.)

“What can I do for you?” Daniel said, his warm, large hand on hers. “Anything. Anything within my power. I can hire you help. I can help you move, get a better place, one suited for a family.”

Ooh, help! Someone who could cook and clean! Someone who could help with the babies and handle diaper duty! Someone who could… stare at them be not-married and figure it out. Fuck. “We’re okay, dad. Thanks.”

“There must be something.” Anxiety aged him, deepened the lines on his face. “Anything.”

Her heart did a little unpleasant ping. She knew she was all he had. He’d never remarried. Never really gotten close to anyone. She’d realized in her first year of college how lonely she had been, living with him—and how lonely Daniel still was.

Bella put her hand on his. “I’m okay, dad. I have Arthur.”

Daniel’s face said a whole world of opinion about that. “Bella…”

She smiled. “We’ve got to figure it out eventually, right? You can’t hold my hand forever.”

He was holding her hand now. “As long as I’m around, I’m not going to let go.”

Her smile was real, if weary. “I know. Thanks, dad. I promise I’ll tell you what we need.”

“How about the hospital bill?”

“No, I’m sure… dad, we budgeted for it.”

“I can do that much.”

“Dad, it’s important. We really did plan for this. The answer is no.”

“Hush.” He patted her hand. “For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry. Let me do this for you.” With that pleasantly-spoken damnation, he rose and headed off to talk to someone in accounting.

Bella exhaled hard, feeling ungrateful and distinctly witchcrafty. She loved her dad; she struggled to like him.

She’d liked him a lot more before her mom died, but that man was gone. “Maybe I should hook him up with a nurse, or something,” she said out of habit to her babies, hand going to her stomach, wincing. “He just needs a little cuddling, right? Oh. You’re gone.” They were.  She’d gotten too used to a captive audience,  especially when they couldn’t answer back. Ah, those were the days.

She considered her room, her painful stomach, her ugly hospital gown. “Oi, you. Be healed… now!” She waggled her fingers at her torso. “Stupid body,” she said, closing her eyes. “Needing blood. Pitiful.”

“You need a little more than blood, darling,” said a woman in the doorway.

Bella looked up.

The stranger wore a man’s suit—silk palazzo pants, oversized, and a velvet jacket over a light silk shell that both hid and teased whatever her body was beneath. Her black hair was short and slicked back, with a little curl on her forehead, and she walked with her hands in her pockets.

“Sweet suffragette glory,” Bella blurted.

The woman laughed. “Suffragette, eh?” she said, stopping by her bed.

Bella stared. “Who else could get away with it? And damn. Who are you?”

“Employee of a relative.”

Bella laughed. “Mouthful. Also, I doubt that. Pretty sure I’d like a relative who hired someone like you, and honey, I don’t like any of them.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled. “You’re also high on morphine.”

The tiny part of Bella’s brain that understood this was not how to survive this world had gone blessedly quiet. “My eyes work just fine, gorgeous. What’s your name?”

The woman’s lips twitched. “Careful. You’ll get yourself in trouble.”

“Maybe I want to get into trouble.”

The woman was no longer fighting her grin. “He did say you were a handful.”

Bella wasn’t done. “Who said? You gotta give me your name so I know what to moan.”

The woman laughed. “Never.”

Bella grinned. “So your name’s Never? How avante-garde! I can work with that. Bet you’ll like it hummed in the curve of your neck.”

“Damn,” said the woman with a little shiver. “Okay, hold on, you’ve distracted me.” The woman Bella called Never touched Bella’s forehead, and that’s when Bella realized this couldn’t be happening. Some kind of shivery… sensation slid out from the woman’s fingers, which Bella had absolutely no definition for. “Yeah,” said the woman Bella called Never. “Fever. Hold still.” She lifted the sheets and began opening Bella’s hospital gown ties.

Well, if she’d gone straight into hallucinating, she might as well have a good time.“Not gonna buy me dinner first?”

“Hold on, ma’am.” Somehow, this woman lifted the bandages right off.

Bella couldn’t see how she did it. It certainly shouldn’t have come away like that, easy and clean and painless, and—

Oh. Oh, she looked bad. The incision was almost purple, framed with dark, strangely sharp veins, so swollen that skin pressed through the thick,stained stitches like unbaked dough, making this wound more obscene than it already was.

Her heart pounded. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered. “Oh, fuck.”

“He was right. Huh,” said Never. “You weren’t planning on more kids, were you?”

Bella stared at her. “Lady, none of this is a thing I wanna repeat.”

“Good, because I have to put your uterus in null. I can’t remove it, or even these idiots will be able to tell it’s gone missing.”

“You’re… okay, I know you’re a dream, but mind telling me what my own head meant by that?”

“No more periods, doll—and the lingering negative effects from carrying him inside you won’t kill you. Here we go.” And the woman put her hand right on the incision.

Bella jumped. “What are you—” She gasped.

It didn’t hurt. Never’s hand was cool. That delightful relief spread like it had on her forehead, and sank right into her like she was made of cotton. Discomfort and heat eased, soothing as it slid through her, and right before her eyes, the redness went down. It just faded, as if her body was eating it. The veins vanished like invisible ink in a spy novel; her skin calmed, flattened, leaving a neat, smooth incision held by  textbook-perfect stitches.

She gawked.

Bella’s toes curled. “Uh… I am not in the business of imagining angels. So hey, I’ll hit on you, anyway. You got cold hands, and I can help with that.”

Never laughed as if surprised. “Bold little thing.”

“It’s my dream. I get to flirt with the keenest doll I’ve ever seen. Better believe I’m gonna be bold.”

“I’m almost done, all right?. Also, you’re not in great shape, hon.”

“So sit on my face. Tongue works fine.”

Never just lost it, laughing, turning away, shaking her head. “Ma’am!”

“Ma’am! I’m insulted.”

“You are married.”

“Way to kill the mood.” Bella’s eyes closed. It just felt… so much. Cooling. Easing. Sliding up her like oil under her skin, and she raised her arms over her head, stretching.

“Easy,” said Never. “You’re not that healed.”

“Well, this isn’t happening, anyway,” said Bella. “So I figure we should go dancing. I know a place.”

“If only.” Never’s smile was wry. “Think he’d kill me, though. Hold on there, okay? He needs you.”

“Who’s he? This ain’t no sausage party, lady.”

“All right, there we go.” Never replaced the bandages (how?), then touched her hand to Bella’s forehead. “You should be safe now. Careful what you say when you wake up, ma’am.”

“I’m not a fucking m…”

“Bella?”

Bella opened her eyes and stared at her father.

Daniel looked so relieved. “You have color in your cheeks again.”

But… what?

Nooooo, she thought, blearily. That dream had been going places. At least she hadn’t woken up touching herself.

“I’ve taken a hotel,” said Daniel. “I’ll be here for a few days.”

“Can you afford to take that much time from work?” Bella said.

“I am taking it. You’re my daughter. I know you don’t understand yet, but you will, now that you have children of your own. There is nothing you won’t do for them.”

Bella suspected I’m real broken and I don’t think I’m going to feel like that would be an upsetting answer. “Thanks, dad.”

“It frightened me so badly to see you so pale,” he said. “You seem less feverish.”

That was odd. Bella put her hand on her belly and found no real pain; soreness, like a healing cut, but nothing like it had been. “Huh,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Daniel’s heavy-jowled self tensed. “Do you need the nurse?”

“Yes,” she said. “I think I need a bandage change.”

“I’ll fetch someone.” He hurried, faster than she’d seen him in years.

Bella slid her fingers along her stomach. Yeah; it felt better. Still no walk in the park, but not… sick. Just healing.

It hadn’t been real. Right?

Sure. Some incredibly gorgeous bird walked in, dressed to the nines, and did fucking magic. Yeah, of course it hadn’t happened, but Bella wondered who she’d based that dream on. She’d never met anyone like that. Not even during her brief escape to Harlem, her final year of high school, when they’d taken a trip to the Museum of Natural History. Wow.

Bella got her good-girl smile back on by the time Daniel returned with three nurses, which was two more than expected, and that meant the next forty-five minutes were a pain in the ass. They kept checking charts and talking over her like she wasn’t there and running little tests, and finally brought in a doctor.

They may have talked over her, but at least they were gentle. The doc was less gentle checking her incision, pressing into her, and she cried out.

“Hm. An unexpected development, but pleasing,” he said like she was a loaf of bread, and marched away into the hall.

He didn’t march far enough. She heard him. “A miraculous recovery,” he was saying. “The infection has gone.”

The infection has…

So they’d known she was that badly infected. Some instinct told her that was why they kept her on so much morphine; either her body would fight it off, or it wouldn’t, and all they could do was keep her clean and comfortable.

Had she been close to dying?

Would they have let her, now that she’d done her duty and reproduced?

She hadn’t known. She was only twenty-one. She could’ve died.

“You’re shivering,” said Daniel, holding her hand again.

“I’m a little spooked,” she said, too honest, and reeled it back. “I don’t know how to be a parent.”

And to her absolute shock, Daniel, after hesitation, was honest, too. “Neither do I. But we… we manage. And our marvelous children find their way, in spite of us.”

She stared at him.

He stared back, briefly naked—but then it all got tucked away again like a handkerchief. “As long as you raise them in the fear and admonition of the Lord.”

It didn’t matter. It was a glimpse of the Daniel he’d been before her mother’s death had locked him away, and Bella had seen it. Maybe being a grandpa would help him. That’s be funny, she thought, if he ended up being the one saved by childbirth. “I’m gonna do my best, dad, and so is Arthur. I know you don’t like him, but he’s a good man.”

Daniel’s lips tightened, but then he let that go. “I’m so proud of you.”

She held Daniel’s hand, because he was there, because he had lots of problems, but at least he cared if she was okay, and hoped Arthur was having fun.

#

Arthur was not having fun. At least he knew what he’d ask Daniel for whenever that guy came back. “Again?” he cried, and could swear John looked smug as fuck. “How? You just went! Where the fuck is it coming from?”

That was a smug look, or Arthur was straight.

He sighed and went to dispose of the mess and set water boiling again, dearly hoping they had enough clean cloths to get through the day.

Oh, yes, he knew exactly the help they’d ask for: a fucking daily diaper service. “For crying out loud,” he muttered, shirt wet all down the front.

Behind him, Faroe made a happy sound.

At least someone was having a good time.

——

Notes:

Note: I was raised by a Daniel (for good or ill), and I really understand Bella’s messy relationship with her dad. No disrespect intended toward any faith or (poorly applied) scripture.

Also, Never is based on Louise Brooks. Yum.

[industrial-system]

another scene of Alex and Anya, a bit farther into the story but not after any enormous plot points

——

Anya observed as Alex carefully set cups and bowls back in their respective cabinets. He moved so close to silently, almost as quiet as her. The only noise she heard was soft clinking as the ceramic dishes touched. She shifted in her spot leaned on the table, creaking the floor beneath her to announce her presence.

Alex didn't jump. He placed the mug in his hands on its shelf and turned to face her. His eyes reflected in the dim light of the rising sun. The house was filled with stillness as both of them waited for the other to speak.

Alex broke the silence first. “You’re welcome to help,” he said in his soft and calm tone. Anya scoffed. “They’ll wake up soon.”

She rolled her eyes as dramatically as she could, and took a few steps to join him at the countertop. “Where does everything go?” she asked, hoarser than she intended.

“Doesn't matter too much. Cups with cups, bowls with bowls.” Alex looked away from her and continued his sorting. She watched him for a moment. Everything about him was incredibly soft, from his appearance to his voice and even his movements.

Anya picked up a ceramic bowl, with painted trees and snowflakes on its side. It was clearly handmade. It was stunning. She'd never seen anything like it in person. Gently, she stacked it onto another bowl in the cabinet, that one sporting a deer in a moonlit forest. Everything in the cabinet was lovely. Of course, she didn't say that.

After a couple minutes of putting away the most precious dishes Anya had ever laid eyes on, Alex turned to her. “What's it like in the city?” he asked softly. “Is it different?”

Different was an understatement. “For sure. Hardly ever snows there. Just gets cold in Winter.”

He tilted his head. “Only in Winter?”

“Only in Winter. Any other season an’ you're either burning or soaked in rain.”

Alex’s eyes brightened. “We don't get rain here,” he said with a hint of excitement. He looked up at her with curiosity in his eyes, and she admired that. “What about your guitar? Are they all like that there?”

A smile got through Anya’s stone solid face as she flipped to lean her back on the counter. “Nope, only her. There’re plenty of other electrics, but none like her.”

“Electrics,” Alex repeated to himself. “I play music, too,” he added with a smile. Anya could've sworn that was the kind of smile that could outdo any harmony. The kind of smile she'd only seen from specific people.

She let herself look interested, because she really was. “Shit! Whaddaya play? You seem like piano, or maybe cello.”

“Violin, actually. My mother played it.” Played. Past tense. “I never took any lessons or anything, though.”

“Heh, I never did either. I say they're overrated. Music is music.”

Alex folded his hands in front of his chest. He didn't say any words for a moment, instead letting his smile and lean of his head voice his agreement. “Are there any flowers that grow there?” he asked suddenly, eyes bright and curious.

Anya thought for a moment. “Eh, sometimes. In a few parks, some people's yards in the suburbs. Lots of people keep them in their houses, though. Someone I went to school with has a ton.”

The sweetest smile she’d ever seen crossed his face. “That's so cool!” he exclaimed, tapping his feet on the ground.

“I… guess it is.” Admittedly, Anya had never thought much of them. She'd always been too focused on ear destroying chords and being pissed off to think of a lily or a daisy.

Alex’s eyes moved to the ground, looking past it. “I love flowers. All plants, but flowers especially. Camellias are my favourite. I have a ton of books about flowers!” He looked up at her and smiled as he spoke, brimming with excitement. He happily shook out his hands.

Anya's mind screamed at her that she couldn't trust him, but for the first moment in a long while she couldn't hear it. For the first moment in a long while she smiled about something that wasn't her music. Really smiled. The kind she felt in her eyes.

So she asked him about them. His books. And he smiled even brighter, and started explaining things she surely wouldn't remember and words she couldn't even begin to pronounce.

This town wasn't so bad. Alex wasn't so bad.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

THE MARVELS looks to lose money at the box office. I mean... It's MCU Movie #33... 33... And how many "losses"? QUANTUMANIA? This movie? The 2008 INCREDIBLE HULK that didn't make its money back? Not counting the COVID-era release of BLACK WIDOW?

That's a hell of a track record!

Some are saying that the ongoing strike, which ended just recently, played a part. Maybe? It does help to get the actors to do press and promo, but part of me feels that it wouldn't have made any difference... Because it's the 33rd movie, you had to have watched multiple shows and movies in order to know what's going on (and maybe you don't have Disney+ to watch WANDAVISION and MS. MARVEL), and the MCU's goodwill has been rather sloppy lately because of some of the recent movies not really meeting audiences' expectations. Especially when you're paying upward of $14+ at night to see these things, and another $41+ for concessions. (A slight exaggeration, but you get my point, right?) But yeah, strike shmike, look at how FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S did a couple weekends ago. It just boils down to "what people want to see".

And clearly THE MARVELS was not high on the list. Post-ENDGAME, the game has changed. A competently-made superhero movie that's basically a homework movie for a future movie, with rushed VFX just isn't enough anymore. People, I feel, want to see superhero movies with a vision behind them of sorts. Note how well GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL. 3 held up, note how much people love the SPIDER-VERSE films, etc. etc. I feel like a movie like BLUE BEETLE would've been a respectable hit in - say - 2017, not now.

Of course, this is all going to be drowned out by people that we quite frankly shouldn't give the time of day to. The people who honk "WOKE WOKE WOKE" like a flock of defective geese, sadsacks who hate Brie Larson so much that she lives in their heads rent free... They hate her over something she said in 2018 that she was... Absolutely correct about. I wish I had that kinda power, just to exist and be me, and make a bunch of men who will never amount to anything worthwhile angry.

Hint hint, there's money involved. It's why we need to just ignore these people, cut off their income and revenue streams. They thrive off of hate and outrage, and getting people like us to watch their rancid loud nonsense and platform them in the form of dunking them. That's still giving them attention.

I don't know. I think most "normal" moviegoing audiences don't care. I've worked at movie theater for 8 years now, and only a few customers do I hear this kind of weird-ass antisocial talk from. They didn't reject THE MARVELS because it stars three women. I mean, WONDER WOMAN made big bucks. CAPTAIN MARVEL itself was a billion dollar smash. SPIDER-VERSE is about a Black Puerto Rican Spider-Man, and the deuteragonist is a Spider-Woman, possibly a trans Spider-Woman at that! And this year, we had an anti-imperialist anti-war and probably anti-American movie make HUGE bucks both domestically and worldwide, we had a literal Barbie movie with tons of Barbie characters of different races and even a TRANSGENDER Barbie, and it became one of the highest-grossing films ever. At the end of last year, we had an AVATAR sequel. Environmentalism, colonialism, that's as "woke" as you can get! Like, you can't look at me with a straight face and tell me that THE MARVELS is going to lose money because it's "woke".

No, it's going to lose money because it's just more of the same, and audiences have kinda moved on from that. It happens in cycles with all kinds of movies.

It's an inert conversation that's been going on for far too long. Algorithms thrive off of chuds who complained about every STAR WARS movie made since Disney bought the franchise, who complained about MAD MAX: FURY ROAD, who complained *incessantly* about a GHOSTBUSTERS movie lead by women, dudes who are deathly allergic to anything that isn't about straight white men. It's a vocal minority, and that the conversation should be more about why the MCU is running out of juice for storytelling reasons and meeting audiences at where they're collectively at. Not why these perpetually-unsatisfied people will never be satisfied.

I mean, this past election cycle, we saw several Republican losses. And in 2022, that "Red Wave" turned out to be a "Red Mirage". Most angry chuds, if they don't vote Republican, then they sure seem to be their biggest base. The overlap with them and MAGA and such. I'd like to think that most normal Americans who aren't extremely-online don't give a shit about who's starring in what. Again, look at how BARBIE did. Republicans make it seem like Americans are fed up with transgender folk (among many other "issues" they're trying to run on), and in BARBIE, the transgender Barbie played by Hari Nef was no background character. She gets *a lot* of scenes... And it still made like $1.4 billion. Maybe because, shocker, most Americans aren't fazed by that. They don't care if you're not white, gay, trans, whatever- They just wanna grill! And are probably fed up with Republicans constantly telling them to be afraid of people who pose no threat.

I dunno, just a hunch?

This year, we saw QUANTUMANIA open in the triple-digits, but score an abysmal 2x multiplier. We're seeing this movie open with relatively low numbers. DC flop-a-doo'ed with SHAZAM 2, THE FLASH, and BLUE BEETLE. I don't see AQUAMAN 2 doing great, either. It looks more of the same, backwash from 2017. James Gunn's SUPERMAN: LEGACY needs to really stand on its own in order to make an impression and get people back for a new take on Kal-El. As for the MCU, I still think DEADPOOL 3 is locked to do great next summer because... People love that character, and the last two movies satisfied audiences. And Hugh Jackman returns as Logan, which is a plus. Not that the movie needed it to do great, but it's an added bonus, and given that this is a Deadpool movie, it'll likely be an irreverent takedown of what's wrong with superhero movies lately. All these forced cameos and multiverse plans that seem to not add up, and such... The rest might see diminishing returns as well. Are people up for another Captain America movie? THUNDERBOLTS? Yet another take on Fantastic Four? Blade, even? Or whatever is off in the future, like a 3rd Doctor Strange movie or that ARMOR WARS project? How many more of these movies can you belt at audiences before it's just a small group that dutifully shows up for them?

This is the conversation I'm much more interested in. Not so much the "death" of the superhero movie, but where it goes and how the MCU's path informs things going forward. Again, my theory is that we're going to see audiences respond to more director-driven films and films that have - again - some kind of vision. Films like THE BATMAN, GUARDIANS VOL. 3, ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE, etc. And on the TV end of things, stuff like INVINCIBLE. New and dynamic takes on this type of story.