#persian-slipper

[holmesoldfellow]

Sherlockian Relics Vol. 2 with "The Six Napoleon Busts, Irene Adler Picture Frame, Persian Slipper, Death of Sherlock Holmes framed note, and Gelder & Co shipping box"

[eirinstiva]

The Persian Slipper

After a conversation in Letters from Watson's server I'm having a crisis (?) now because the legendary persian slipper where canon!Sherlock stores his tobacco appears in many adaptations of ACD stories and I don't want to do the dishes am trying to remember where I saw it, for example in the movies starring Basil Rathbone as Sherlock:

In Granada series with Jeremy Brett as Sherlock:

In Sherlock (BBC) appears in some promotional photos:

and chapters like "The Hound of Baskerville" and "The Abominable Bride":

Even in some other media like Stark Trek: The Next Generation s02e03 "Elementary, Dear Data":

So knowing how much references to the canon and other adaptations Hikaru Miyoshi puts in the manga of Moriarty the Patriot/Yuukoku no Moriarty, I looked for it and found the slipper in chapter 7:

But when I look for it in the anime I can't find it in chapter 8 or in later chapters like A Scandal in the British Empire:

Will I watch again YnM just for a persian slipper? Maybe, because I don't want to the dishes yes

Will I watch more Sherlock Holmes's adaptations for a persian slipper? Yes, why not?

Will I do the dishes? I will after posting this.

[frnknstin]

// Victor has to do things a very specific way or else he will perish, for example, organization.

chemicals are never stored alphabetically, because some chemicals do not go together who start by the same letter because it will cause an actual explosion. they are usually stored by hazard class, however Victor goes even further seperating them within their hazard classes by property, creating almost mini prototype of a periodic table on each shelf/container, and then seperates that onto shelves/containers based on what work station he uses them most at, if not on the work station.

this is an extremely unpractical way to store chemicals because it takes up so much more space and it's literally unable to be used unless you know the property of every single chemical by heart along with where he often uses it, yet, he still uses it, because it makes the most sense to him and any other sort of organization is a deadly sin to even think of for him.

he also just leaves things wherever they make sense for him and where he uses them most, which would result in just piles of stuff around the house, making him an absolute nightmare of a roommate (so good he doesn't have one for his college day's (minus Clerval, but he puts up with Victor BS happily enough)). there are also tiny things, like cleaning up whatever he is done with using so he can put everything back in his weird orders (this results in the middle of a table/workspace having to be always completely clean and empty unless he is doing something on it, while the sides of the table/workspace piles up with stuff he uses there. to others it doesn't look like order or organization and that he just pushes stuff off to the side but... that's clean order to him).

that doesn't mean he's tidy however, his mess is just very organized to him and no one else. so if you try to use his laboratory, you'd actually lose it because it seems like a hurricane passed through. he can work in tidy spaces of "standard" organization, however if he ever found someone like him who keeps a fellow "organized mess", it would be a deadly combination because he would then be losing it over the mess and not being able to find anything.

if there is anything my Victor is, it's a hypocrite till he dies.

[contact-guy]

lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.

canon text under the cut:

An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.

“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”

“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”

“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”

He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.

“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.

“It is a curious collection.”

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

“These relics have a history then?”

“So much so that they are history.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”

I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”

“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.

-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual

[fruitviking]

Experiencing post-hiatus Holmes angst tonight.

He returns to London after three years. He was dead. London is London, but London is different. There are new buildings and empty buildings and shops that have changed. His brother is older. His Watson is older, and forever altered by grief. The Irregulars have grown up, and he doesn't know the names of the newest ones yet. Yarders look at him like he's a miracle, a ghost. His rooms are the same, his bedroom, but the clothes he left behind don't fit him now. None of his biographies and scrapbooks are up to date. He left some tobacco in the Persian slipper, and it's gone stale. The living room has a broken window for a while. Someone tried to kill him while the world still thought he was dead. Watson won't stop staring at him.

[outlawruben]

Modern AU headcannons

The Vandermatthews family edition

When John was a teenager he made slime and got it in Dutch’s expensive Persian rug he keeps in the office. (Dutch was LIVID.)

Hosea reads late into the night, which caused Dutch to buy one of those clip on reading lights so he can finally sleep peacefully.

Dutch and Hosea do embarrassing dances in the kitchen/living spaces when the kids are around. Arthur and John cringe hard at this.

John was introduced to Limp Bizkit and his life was forever changed.

Arthur: “GET OUT OF MY ROOM.”

John *In the doorway*: “IM NOT IN YOUR ROOM.”

Arthur: “dinner is ready.”

John: “OKAY.”

Arthur, louder: “OKAY!”

Arthur tans at the beach, John burns

Arthur has straight A’s, John has straight C’s

John will take a (monthly) shower and get the WHOLE floor wet

John’s favorite Christmas was when he got a bass guitar, and Arthur’s favorite was when he got his blue truck.

Arthur sits on Dutch/Hosea’s bed and just spills the tea to Hosea late into the evening (Dutch wants to get ready for bed soon)

Arthur is a PC player, and John is a console player

John has to go to the mall with Arthur when he wants to go alone because “John doesn’t socialize enough”

They both got to choose their bedroom colors, however, John wasn’t allowed to do THE DARKEST black in the store, so his room is a dark grey with a black accent wall. (Arthur’s room is blue)

Branching off of that, Arthur and John could decorate their rooms HOWEVER they wanted, there was no intervention from the dads

Hosea does the “Dad hand” during road trips when the boys have a snack he wants.

Hosea is the designated driver because Dutch has terrible road rage

They live on a pond, in fact Dutch and Hosea argued over it before buying the house, so much so that Hosea threatened a divorce because the ONLY thing he wants is a pond. Dutch folded, and Hosea fishes everyday.

Arthur loved Percy Jackson and John loved Warrior Cats.

Arthur is a cereal eater, and John is a pop-tart eater

The contrast between Arthur’s masterpieces vs John’s doodles are crazy. (They’re both proudly displayed on the front of the fridge no matter what) (yes this is based on their canonical journal entries, sue me)

John and Arthur took those embarrassing Macy’s photoshoots in the early 2000’s that are out on display for everyone to see in the future.

John has an INCREDIBLY embarrassing graduation photo from when he was in his emo phase in high school, and his dads refuse to remove it. (It’s placed next to Arthur’s gleaming grad photo)

Dutch has slippers he wears around the house, and Hosea just wears his socks.

John still doesn’t know how to swim in this AU, Hosea has tried to teach him, but John refuses to get in the water.

They have taxidermy in their house from when Hosea went hunting more often when he was younger.

Somehow Hosea and Dutch’s aesthetics work so well together.

Dutch is very much old money, and maximalist, and Hosea is definitely Vintage and Woodsy (It works together if you saw their house)

You would be convinced that John’s nails were naturally black and chipped from how much he painted them.

Hosea has a “Shop” in the garage like every dad has to have. (It’s full of fishing supplies, paint cans, and other tools ofc)

John’s room is very dark, messy, and covered in posters from every movie/Tv show/video game he’s ever seen/played. Also, making the bed? What’s that?

Arthur’s room is open and airy, with his own mountain murals painted on the walls, a full art desk, and he also doesn’t know what making the bed means.

[luvologyy]

Crew headcannons.

Characters: Anya, daisuke, curly (before crash), Swansea, jimmy..(ik ik🙄)

Dating headcannons next ! ᵔᴗᵔ

A/N: my first post hai guys 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Anya

Age: 27 ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Height: 5'6

Anya is Vietnamese and Brazilian 🇧🇷🇻🇳 her mom is Vietnamese, and her dad is from Brazil.

Graduated at the age of 18

She's closer to her Vietnamese side of her family but still close with her dad's side

She's the oldest sister over her younger brother and sister

She's bisexual but prefers women

LOVES TABBY CATS AND PERSIAN CATSS

Her favorite subjects in school were math and science

Has a small shelf with shoes, sandals, and slippers near her front door

NEVER WEARS SHOES INSIDEE ALWAYS.

Used to have doctors play kits and play doctor with her dad when she was a kid🩷

She prefers wine over any other kind of alcohol. Fancy.

She uses rose scents or clean scented hygiene products/perfume (daisuke HATES when she uses floral stuff)

HATES seafood.

Is an older sister figure to daisuke, always looking out for him

She used to smoke then quitted (proud of her)

Dresses in frilly long skirts with bigger shirts and cardigans for everyday clothes

Wears sm eyeliner or mascara she literally brings like 6 tube's of each

Wear doc Martin loafers

Loves Sims 4

Listens to artists/bands like The Cranberries, TV girl, Clairo, Laufey, Beabadoobee, MARINA, and Lana Del Rey.

She'd rather smell like roses or raspberries

Her favorite color is purple

Daisuke

Age: 22 ᵔᴗᵔ

Height: 5'11

His full name is Daisuke Juarez

He's filipino and Hawaiian 🇵🇭 (WHERE MY FILIPINOS ATT?)

Gooner.

He listens to K-pop groups like stray kids, enhypen, or kiss of life

He listens to artists/bands like Steve Lacy, beabadoobee, Tyler the creator, creepy nuts, frank ocean, and sun-kissed Lola

LOVES LISTENING TO ATARASHII GAKKO

SOME BEABADOOBEE REFFERANCES IN HEREE.

He's from Californiaa

He smells like oranges or fruit punch

Daisuke is fluent in tagolog

Taught Swansea to say "putang Ina" thinking it meant "thank you" 💀

Him cackling in the corner when Swansea says it to the other crew members.. hay nako.

Likes watching ghibli movies, his fav ghibli movie is spirited away.

Sometimes, accidently calls anya "ate anya" (ate = older sister) he gets embarrassed but anya doesn't mind it.

He plays baseball

Gossips about old people from school with anya

LOVES PHÓ NOODLES (anya would always make it)

Loves building lego sets

If he was in the hunger games, he would die IMMEDIATELY. He'll just start crying

Daisukes a horrible liar. HE'LL LIE ABOUT THE MOST STUPIDEST THINGS.

Reader: "daisuke, did you take my candy bar?"

"... no." The wrapper sticking our his pocket..

*You raise your eyebrow at him*

* sigh* "yeah.."

He thinks that santa is real

He would have anime girl posters in his room😭

He likes reptiles. He'd have a pet beared dragon and put tiny hats on it

He collects Pokémon cards

He likes beetles

Daisukes favorite drinks are Arizona teas or apple cider

SNORES SO LOUDLY.

Captain Curly

Age: 35 ˊˎ-

Height: 6'5

He's Australian 🇦🇺 NO DENYING.

He moved to the U.S. in his early teens (13 or 14) with the rest of his family, then met Jimmy in high school

Actually enjoys watching YouTube shorts..

He'd have the newest or most expensive iPhone and not know how to use it 😭

HE CRIES WHILE WATCHING DISNEY MOVIES.. what a REAL man.

PLEASEE teach this man to season his food😭🙏 ITLL SAVE HIS LIFE.

Decorates his house in Christmas decorations as soon as November starts

He's sings in the shower and wears shower caps (he's extra like that)

Played hockey in high school

PLEASE INTRODUCE YOUR CULTURES FOOD TO HIM, it'll be his new favorite

Snores but isn't as loud as daisuke

He loves history. It was his favorite subject in school

He smells like clean laundry

Uses dove products or method bodywash

Has containers of protein powder

Goes to the gym almost everymorning

He still has an Australian accent (MMMH🙈)

He's allergic to peanuts or other nuts straight up (he missing outt)

Growing up, he had a tree house in his backyard and hung out with Jimmy when they were teens, and they always decorated it with posters and lights

Went to military school with Jimmy

He's such a millennial.. he'd laugh at the most unfunniest Facebook quotes. It's sad.

"Cmon, you can't say this is so funny!"

"Curly, it's not that funny.."

"IT makes sense though!"

"CAPTAIN NO.."

"..aw."

He always helped Jimmy with his school work in high school

He HATES it when people crack their knuckles. HATES IT

He likes musicals his favorites are Hamilton and Chicago

He keeps old trophies and jerseys from his high school hockey team hung up on shelves or frames

He listens to punk floyd, cigarettes after sex, the weekend, beyonce, and sade

Jimmy

Age: 34 ᝰ.ᐟ

Height: 6'2

He's polish and white 🇺🇸🇵🇱

He drinks really bitter black coffee. He thinks adding sugar ruins it.

He smells like cigarettes and liquor

He only uses men scented products (idek if he showers but wtv)

He met curly in highschool

He always skipped class and snuck out of school while curly was the exact opposite

He took a little Spanish in highschool

He also went to military school with curly and made him sneak out of campus with him

He listens to divorced dad rock like blink 182, linkin park, limp bizkit, ac/dc, and radio head

Listens to other artists, too like icp, judas priest, metallica, Nirvana, Rob Zombie, or ozzy osbourne

He used to steal or break into cars when he was in his teens.

He lived with his dad and older brother after he lost his mom at a young age.

He sleeps in his underwear. If not, he's sleeping in pj pants with no shirt

His favorite subjects in high school were gym and history

Even though he skipped class, he still has favorites!

Besides the rock and metal he'll listen to, he loves listening to SADE. (It's his guilty pleasure for him) aww

Every time he'll listen to SADE, it'll remind him of his mom he lost

Thinks toaster struddles are better than pop tarts

He used to smoke weed, I can kinda see it in him.

He honestly likes chemistry and math, even if they weren't his favorites

SUCKED ASS in English class, He couldn't write poems and essays for shit.

Swansea

Age: 58 ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Height: 5'10

MERICAAA🇺🇸🔥 RAHH

Married to his wife of 30 years (sorry, Swansea fans)

He sneezes so LOUDLY

He snores like a loud train

Has 2 daughters and 1 son

Likes cooking barbecue

He likes to take his family camping and teaches his kids how to fish

He definitely shops at Costco or Sam's club

He'd get confused when his daughters would put selfie filters on him, but he doesn't mind. Whatever makes em happy

He always puts his kids in sports clubs

He used to be a coach for baseball

A/N: sorry these suck😑

[do-you-know-this-adhd-character]

Do you know this (noncanon) ADHD character?

SPECIFICALLY FROM THE ORIGINAL STORIES, NOT ANY ADAPTATIONS.

Evidence below the cut!

He has periods of depression when he has nothing to do, but during cases he becomes so absorbed that he refuses to eat and has actually made himself ill in the post-case crash. He uses cocaine when there are no cases because he says his brain must have stimulation, and the cocaine actually relaxes him--classic self-medication (ps don't use cocaine for ADHD babes). Watson gets on him all the time for how untidy he is, and he does impulsive things like shooting into the wall so he can examine the bullets. And when he's trying to think he makes a pile of pillows to sit in, or puts his feet up on the mantlepiece, or (most often) sits and scratches away idly at his violin (tho he makes up for it to Watson by playing real pieces afterwards). Oh, and he keeps his tobacco in a persian slipper above the fireplace!

[pepperpepperz]

herlock sholmes and the adventure of the gayass lodgers

[ID: a greyscale drawing of herlock sholmes and yujin mikotoba. sholmes' hands are visible, and he digs through the persian slipper on the mantel. the mirror on the mantel reflects holmes in his dressing gown looking at mikotoba with a soft expression on his face. mikotoba adjusts his cufflinks, looking tired. the room behind them is also fully rendered. /End ID.]

[gatabella]

Paulette Goddard by Lusha Nelson in Persian gold lamé, rust bolero and cap, flat lamé slippers; Bergdorf Goodman, US Vogue, Nov. 1937

[itstokkii]

finally, some aph uzb headcanons

i realize i've done some korea, amekor, and turkuzbek hcs but i've never actually done one of my blorbo uzbekistan. so thats changing right now

- she's of average uzbek woman height(167cm) and her hair is that shade of brown that looks almost black, but when the sunlight hits just right it looks like a faint shade of auburn. you know, that kind of hair shade.

- her name is "nargiza" which translates to "narcissus flower" or "daffodil." her close friends and family(and turkey too ig 🙄) call her nargiz for short.

- her hobbies are embroidery and quiltmaking with tajikistan, trying out new desserts to bake, reading, gossiping, piano playing and knitting(she picked up both from russia), drinking hot black tea in even hotter weather(she's a tea elitist and Will Not Consider iced tea to be part of the tea category)

- best cook. she's the best cook out of the central asians and they always try to have her cook dinner("it just hits different when you cook food for us apa")

- she has a resting scary/angry face. she looks like she's about to kill someone. but when you ask her a question she'll immediately smile and won't hesitate to help you in whatever way she can.

- has the best relationship with kazakhstan and tajikistan. though sometimes she has a habit of babying kazakhstan as an older sister. old habits from the uzbek khanate die hard i guess...

- has a weird relationship with uyghurstan, and they have a few very awkward phone calls per year. if you heard the minutes of silence sandwiched in between their conversations you'd experience second hand embarrassment.

- her relations with iran are interesting. she adopted persian as the official and court language of the bukharan khanate. but she's also tried to take parts of iran's land a few times. for a while iran even exerted control over the bukharan khanate for a few years by persian ruler nader shah until he died. there's been a lot of cultural exchange from iran to uzbekistan historically, and uzbekistan is also considered a part of the greater iran region(maybe i should give her the ahoge...). nowruz, for example, is a holiday that came from persia and is celebrated in the central asian countries, especially tajikistan and uzbekistan.

- she...doesn't like russia. not at all. it's one of the few things she and kyrgyzstan both agree on, and they've both fantasized about throwing themselves at him like rabid dogs for a while(kyrgyzstan was more serious about it, and uzbekistan had to stop him) but after her independence she had to suck up to him due to her economic reliance on him. recently, though, she's been moving away from russia in favor of spotting economic opportunities within uzbekistan that will help with self-growth(and also reaching out to turkey and china for mutual trading)

- she's not the most developed nation out there, but is still very prissy about her overall appearance. she knows how to clean up. don't even get me started on the things she wears to weddings. she isn't worried about competition because she IS the competition.

- at home, she'll wear the usual stuff you'd see an uzbek mom wear, a matching dress and pants cut from atlas fabric. she'll have a small scarf wrapped around her hair to pull it back, and has her hair up in a ponytail, bun, or braids.

- when she's out, she wears perfectly coordinated outfits every single time, hair and makeup perfectly done.

- dont be fooled though. she Will wear the definitely fake chanel sweaters and slippers with pride.

- she fake smiles a lot and tries to stop her habit of having a resting scary face. even though that's her default, she's gotten a lot of flack from old ladies throughout the centuries for it.

- generally, she's not a super expressive, bubbly person(that's her sister tajikistan). she's fine with small talk(and DEFINITELY gossiping) but depending on who it is and whether they're in her social circle or not, she'll either enjoy it or hate every agonizing second of it. When you ask about her house though, she'll tell you everything with a certain sparkle in her eyes.

- if you want her to go through all 44 feelings at once and watch her freak out and overheat like an old gaming PC just bring up turkey i guess

- to get into her social circle takes a lot of time and a lot of waiting for her to open up and talk about personal things. Think maybe...20 years at the very least.

- leading into the other headcanon of her being a little insecure. throughout the years, the uber-collectivist society of uzbekistan caused her to become more and more hyperaware of her actions and how others will think about them. the one exception is that she can't hide her disappointment.

- her predecessors are the khwarazmian empire and timurid empire. she barely knew the khwarazmian empire as uzbekistan was born as one of the few tribes to emerge after khwarazmi was engulfed by the mongols.

- she was old enough to remember timurid, however. he was like her older brother, albeit one with...skewed moral values. he'd always insist that this was all to rekindle the empire that the great genghis khan left behind, and to spread islam as a religion.

"besides," he'd add, "isn't samarqand looking absolutely beautiful lately?"

"yes, because you kidnapped the best artisans and craftsmen after looting their cities." she deadpanned.

- she was quite surprised(and impressed, by a sliver) when her brother managed to successfully siege ankara and cause a civil war in the ottoman empire. she knew timurid was growing, but she had no idea he got this strong. it almost didn't seem surprising when he announced his plans to go after china, before he died(and then respawned as the mughal empire, but that's another story.)

- "russia when i catch you russia" - uzbekistan since the 1870s

- she has a house in tashkent and bukhara, but mostly lives in tashkent now that it's the capital. since she's literally the center of central asia and borders everyone including afghanistan, they all stay at her house when traveling(turkey is stuck at a hotel whenever he visits tho...)

- her spice tolerance? dont even ask. its not there. completely gone. give her a little heinz chili sauce and she's scrambling to find water.

- once korea took her out on a date to a korean restaurant. one bite of the kimchi and it was over for her

- if you ever come over to her house, she'll spoil you with food and gifts. there will be a drama series playing on her tv as you two chat for hours. when you leave expect it to be about 8 hours after you arrived and for the walk home to be extremely heavy as she gives you 3 bags full of gifts and dried fruits and desserts.

[swamp-adder]

As the late James Keddie, Sr., wrote in "Gasogene, Coal Box, Persian Slipper": "In Edinburgh the coal box was an ornament, and in it were stored such details of fireside comfort as slippers, unread magazines, and so forth. Why not cigars?" Scottish Sir James M. Barrie, in fact, kept both his cigars and his telephone in his coal scuttle.

- The Annotated Sherlock Holmes (Baring-Gould)

TIL that ACD was making fun of James Barrie when he mentioned Holmes keeping his cigars in the coal scuttle as an example of what an untidy weirdo he is.

[project-sekai-facts]

any chance you happen to have a list of flowers in everyones 1st year birthday cards?

i just got these off the wiki so apologies if any of this is wrong

Virtual Singer

Miku: sunflowers, gentians, hibiscus, chinese milk-vetch (on her dress)

Rin & Len: pansies, lady slipper orchid (on blazer)

Luka: grape hyacinth, sagebrush buttercups, society garlic flowers

MEIKO: egyptian star cluster, moss roses

KAITO: hyacinths, snowflake flowers

Leo/need

Ichika: geraniums, creeping zinnias (also some small flowers I couldn't identify)

Saki: dogwood flowers, white clovers

Honami: gerberas, chocolate cosmos, multiflora rose

Shiho: magnolias, violets (on her accessories)

MORE MORE JUMP!

Minori: daisy fleabanes, scotch broom, blue milkweed

Haruka: yellow cosmos, spider flowers

Airi: star jasmines

Shizuku: strawberry begonias, blossoms (the wiki said this was firethorn but imo it looks closer to some sort of blossom. the leaves aren't the right shape)

Vivid BAD SQUAD

Kohane: persian buttercup/ranunculus, iceland poppies

An: larkspur, tickseed

Akito: elatior begonias, lemon flowers

Toya: persian buttercup/ranunculus, yuzu flower (on blazer), pansies, wisteria (in the background)

WonderlandsxShowtime

Tsukasa: yellow tulips, persian violets, peonies

Emu: sea asters, skunkvine, chrysanthemum (ogiku style)

Nene: bougainvilleas/paperflowers, sunflowers, prairie gentians

Rui: common vervains/verbena, astrantia/great masterwort, hypericum erectum (a type of St John's Wort native to Japan, China and Korea. It doesn't have a common name)

25-ji, Nightcord de.

Kanade: crocuses, winter daphne

Mafuyu: cape marguerite, japanese rowan flowers, and i believe plumeria rubra

Ena: mountain laurels, baby blue eyes

Mizuki: bottle gourd flower, st john's wort, garden balsams. i'm not sure what the flower in their hair is, possibly some sort of lily?

the flowers are mostly the same on the second set of cards, though some are changed (notably Len who now has different flowers to Rin), and a few others gain or lose a flower or two. Tsukasa has fuchsias, An has paperflowers, airi i think has blossom and ena i think has yellow lupins now and that's as far as my flower knowledge goes.

[sephirthoughts]

Just Like Honey: Chapter 9

SOMEONE PHOTOSHOP GLASSES ONTO A PICTURE OF REEVE PLEASE I NEED IT FOR REASONS

AU: organized crime, cabaret, sex work

SHIPS: MULTIPLE! rufus/cloud, vincent/cloud, sephiroth/cloud, reeve/cloud, rufus/cloud/tseng, cloud/other characters as clients because that's his job, weiss/nero, background aerti

RATING: EXPLICIT, MINORS DNI, NO MINORS ALLOWED

WARNINGS: sex workers, prostitution

Chapter 9: Friends in High Places

Leslie and Cloud’s old tenement apartment and Reeve’s Shinra Tower penthouse represented the bookends of residential living situations in Midgar. Expansive didn’t begin to describe Reeve’s place, and the entirety of it had clearly been furnished by a professional decorator. 

Overworked, oblivious Reeve probably didn’t even notice how gorgeous the mahogany bookshelves were, or how supple the calfskin leather on the couches, or how thick and plushy the hand-woven Persian rugs. To him, this palatial residence was a box he went into, once in a while, to sleep and shower.

In all fairness, Cloud hardly noticed, either, because Reeve answered the door wearing a cable knit, v-neck sweater, grey slacks, and a pair of—

“Glasses!” Cloud gasped, pointing accusingly at Reeve’s face. “And you didn’t even warn me!”

“Uh…sorry. Do you not like them?” said the understandably confused Reeve, reaching up, to take them off. 

“Nuh-uh! Don’t you dare!” 

Cloud kicked the door shut behind him, dropped his bag, and grabbed Reeve, dragging him into a kiss. Reeve was too startled to react for a second, then he gave a soft groan and leaned into it, letting his hands roam hungrily over Cloud’s taut little body, as they fumbled their way to the sofa and fell onto it, without breaking the kiss.

“I guess—I guess you like the glasses, then,” Reeve said breathlessly, when Cloud released him. 

“No fucking way, they’re flat-out cheating!” Cloud complained. “You’re already that hot, and you really have the nerve to pull out the sexy-dad glasses and sweater look? Rules violation, unfair play!”

Reeve chuckled. “Wow. No one’s ever said I look like a dad before.”

“Maybe not to your face. I bet a lot of little Shinra employees call you daddy behind your back.”

“You’re making me sound a lot more attractive than I really am. Trust me, there’s no way anyone at work thinks of me that way.”

“Oh, no. It’s just as I feared,” Cloud lamented, cupping Reeve’s face in his hands. “Overwork has fried your brain, and you’re living in a delusion where you’re not one of the sexiest men alive.”

“W—what?” Reeve stammered. “I’m not even close to one of the sexiest men alive. Especially not when men like you exist.”

“We don’t count.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. In the interest of fairness, athletic twinks have our own separate category. Otherwise, all other men would always lose to us.”

Reeve laughed again. “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

Cloud couldn’t help but smile, too. “You’re a lot happier when you’re not in that stuffy office. Speaking of which, I’m gonna go change into something a little more comfortable. That ok?”

“Yes, please. Make yourself at home. The bathroom is the third door, there. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, anything’s fine. Whatever you’re drinking.”

When Cloud returned from the bathroom, Reeve choked on his sip of wine, coughing and sputtering into a napkin. “Holy—holy shit! You can’t say I’m cheating, when you’re wearing that!”

“What, this old thing?” Cloud said innocently, while doing a little twirl, to demonstrate that the pink-lace short-shorts laced up in the back, with a pink ribbon. With the matching camisole and slippers, he was basically dressed like he was playing a teenaged girl in a naughty sleepover porn. 

“You said you wanted the girlfriend experience, so I dressed accordingly.”

“If I had a girlfriend who dressed like that, I’d never leave the house,” Reeve muttered. 

“So, what do you feel like doing tonight, honey-bunny?” Cloud crooned, accepting the glass of white wine Reeve was holding out to him. “Want to snuggle up on the couch and pretend to watch a movie?”

“I, uh…yeah. That sounds good,” Reeve said awkwardly.

“Or, how about I give you a neck rub, and you tell me about your day.”

“Sure.”

Cloud narrowed his eyes. “Don’t just agree to whatever I say. I’m here to make you happy. If there’s something you want, I want to hear it.”

“No, no I don’t—well, maybe. Ok, yes. But it’s kind of…embarrassing.” 

“Good news. If there’s anyone you don’t need to be embarrassed telling about it, it’s me. You’re the one who told me sex workers are like therapists. So, treat me like that. A safe space.”

“Hoo boy.” Reeve passed a hand across his forehead. “It’s just, I know it probably isn’t a cool fantasy to have, and I’d never want to do anything like that in real life, I just—”

“Hey,” Cloud interrupted, taking his hand to squeeze it. “Every kind of fantasy is ok. It doesn’t matter what you get turned on by. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Reeve looked unconvinced. “Are you…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You could tell me you daydream about fucking cartoon hedgehogs, and I still wouldn’t judge you. As long as it’s just fantasy, or you express it as part of consensual play between adults, literally anything is ok.”

“Well…alright.” Reeve took a deep breath and let it out. “Here goes. I would like it if you could pretend to…to be asleep, while I touch you and…do things to you.”

Cloud blinked. “Is that really what you were worried about telling me? Then it’s no sweat, I’ve done plenty of somno play.”

“Somno?”

“Somnophilia. Wanting to fuck someone who’s unconscious.” 

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t know there was a real term, for it. But there’s more. I—I also want you to ‘wake up’ partway through, while I’m already inside you, and, uh…”

“You want me to struggle? Beg you to stop? I can cry, if you want.”

Reeve squinted an eye at him. “You’re not nearly as weirded out by this as I expected.”

“Reeve, my sweet, summer wolfman,” Cloud sighed, patting his shoulder. “This is one of the least weird things I’ve been asked to do.”

“Really? Wait, wolfman?”

“Yeah, really. I had a client once who wanted me to soak in a cold bath, first, and play dead while he fucked me. I got a married couple who wanted me to pretend to be their kid, and walk in on them fucking. One wanted to be a new stepmother, and I was the horny stepson who took advantage of her, while dad was out of town. I have multiple current clients who like to be put on leashes and treated like dogs. I even have these four brothers who make me cook food for the three younger ones, then the older one fucks me in another room, while they eat.”

Reeve looked appropriately astonished. “My thing probably sounds pretty tame, then.”

“Non-con fantasies like that are the most common ones, believe it or not. But I’ve done pretty much everything. Power exchange, age play, pet play, teacher-student, coach-athlete, voyeurism, incest…”

“Incest?”

“Yeah, mostly daddy and big brother stuff.”

Reeve swallowed hard. “Would you…would you call me daddy?”

“Try and stop me.”

A little while later, Cloud was ‘asleep’ in Reeve’s huge, ridiculously comfortable bed, with the lights out, and the only illumination coming from the windows. The door opened softly, letting a beam of warm light from the hallway fall across the bed.

He heard Reeve call out, “Sweetheart? You awake?”

Cloud didn’t reply, obviously.

Cautious footsteps padded across the carpet, to the bed. He was lying on his stomach, hugging a pillow, with his legs splayed out and one knee bent, so when the covers were drawn back, the first thing Reeve saw was the pink lace of the tiny shorts, barely concealing the bulge of his sack, between his thighs. 

A knee pressed down on the bed, then big, warm hands slid up under the shorts, to gently cup his ass. Reeve’s thumb hooked the crotch and pulled them to the side, and the other thumb and forefinger spread him apart.

Cloud heard him curse under his breath and grinned inwardly. Covering his asshole, was a sparkling, pink, heart-shaped gem, which was the base of the plug he was wearing, and hadn’t told Reeve about. 

There was a short pause, then Reeve’s warm weight pressed down on him, as he leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Playing with yourself in daddy’s bed. I’ll have to teach you a lesson.” 

The scent of wine on his breath, mingled with Reeve’s aftershave, really did lend to the atmosphere of a slightly drunk parental figure, about to do unspeakable things to a sleeping teenager. Cloud’s dick began to swell and thicken, with excitement.

Reeve slipped his pink shorts down, leaving them hanging around his ankle, and slid a palm under his abdomen, to pull his half-hard dick down between his thighs. There was another pause, in which Cloud could hear Reeve’s uneven breathing. Then the hands took hold of his ass again. 

It was only because of his extreme professionalism, at that point, that Cloud was able to remain still and unresponsive, breathing relatively evenly. Reeve’s beard tickled his inner thighs as he bent down and put his hot mouth on Cloud’s sack, sucking and licking, while his thumb rhythmically prodded the plug. Pretty soon, Cloud’s dick was rock-hard, despite being forced to point downward between his thighs.

Reeve drew away, then took hold of the jeweled base of the plug and began to pull. Cloud stirred slightly and made a drowsy murmur of protest, as it popped out, with an obscene squelch. A thin stream of clear lube trickled down over his balls. 

“Got yourself all ready for daddy, didn’t you,” Reeve said hoarsely. 

Cloud heard a belt and zipper, and the rustle of fabric. Reeve guided the head of his cock to Cloud’s taut, lube-slick entrance. 

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy’s so tight,” he breathed, as he pushed in. “Daddy can barely fit inside you.” 

Cloud was about ready to explode. His dick was throbbing and drooling, and it took all his self control not to moan from sheer relief, when Reeve finally bottomed out, filling him to the brim. Cloud waited for him to set a good rhythm, then he began to stir, and groggily lifted his head.

“What…what’s happening,” he mumbled. Then he froze and pretended to panic. “What are you doing! Stop! Help!” 

Reeve grabbed his wrists and pinned them, as he began to sob and thrash. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s just me, sweetheart.”

“D—daddy?” Cloud sniffled. “Why are you…why are you doing this to me?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You were playing with yourself, in my bed, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t! I wasn’t—!”

“Don’t lie to me,” Reeve cut him off sternly, punctuating the sentence with a savage thrust. The uncustomary aggressiveness in his voice amplified his sexiness by about ten-thousand, and sent chills up cloud’s spine. “Daddy came home and found you asleep in my bed, with a toy stuck up your slutty little hole. Weren’t you playing with yourself and thinking about daddy fucking you?”

“Hngh—ah! I was! I was!” Cloud ‘confessed.’ “I’m sorry, daddy! I won’t do it again!” 

Reeve slid almost all the way out. “It’s too late for that. You wanted daddy’s dick, so now you have to take it.” He slammed it back in, all the way to the base. 

“Noooo! Daddy, it’s too big!” Cloud whined, pretending to struggle under Reeve’s solid weight.

“Don’t fight, baby. Be good and take it,” Reeve panted, thrusting even harder, as Cloud bucked against him. His cock was getting hotter and harder. He was close. “You’re gonna make daddy come, if you keep tightening up like that.”

“Daddy, s—stop! It feels weird!” Cloud wailed (while gleefully tilting his ass up to take Reeve’s dick as deep as he could).

“Hngh…baby! Daddy’s coming! Fuck!” 

Reeve pulled out abruptly, and Cloud felt warm fluid spattering across his ass and thighs. As soon as he’d finished, he pushed back inside, to ride out the spasms, while Cloud wrung himself hard and fast, till he came in the tight space, between his stomach and the mattress.

“Oh, fuck,” Reeve said breathlessly, falling onto the bed next to him. “That was—that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Not so bad yourself, daddy,” Cloud said, with a wink. Then he pretended to pout. “You’re not tired already, are you?”

“Not yet. Thank the goddess for all that boxing. Just, uh…just give your old man a couple minutes.”

They rolled around for a while, flirting and laughing, and wound up fucking again, with Cloud on top, riding Reeve cowgirl style. After that, they took a long shower together, in Reeve’s enormous spa-style Swiss shower. Reeve wanted to walk him out, but Cloud waved him off, saying he was a big boy and could take care of himself. And so the two cheerfully said goodnight at Reeve’s door, promising to see each other again, soon.

When the elevator reached the lobby, Cloud peered around, half expecting to see Zack, or Reno and Rude, but no one was around except for a few security guards and holographic receptionists. The scene was less desolate, outside, since this part of Shinra Tower was a block from Loveless Avenue, and the nightlife was always lively.

Cloud was crossing the bustling fountain square, bound for the train station, when a hand fell heavily on his shoulder, giving him a jolt. “I see you’ve been making friends in…high places.” 

Cloud attempted to swallow in a suddenly dry throat. “Sephi? W—what are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you, if I didn’t know perfectly well, already.” Sephiroth leaned close, so Cloud could feel his breath on his ear. “There’s a man’s scent, all over you.”

His voice was hard and cold and crystal clear. Like knives made of ice. Which meant he was sober, and thus at his most dangerous. Cloud suppressed a shudder.

A gloved hand took hold of his arm, and Sephiroth deftly steered him around the corner, onto the intersecting street. He glanced anxiously about, but he wasn’t thinking of calling for help. His fear was less that Sephiroth would hurt him, and more that he’d hurt other people. He didn’t want anyone to get killed, so the only choice he had was to go along with the man, and hope he’d stay calm.  

They walked for about half a block, before Sephiroth pushed him into a dark, narrow space between buildings and shoved him up against the brick wall, pinning him with a hand on the back of his neck and a knee between his legs. 

“I don’t think you quite understand your situation, little puppet, so I will explain it.” Sephiroth lowered his voice to a menacing murmur. “You belong to me. The fact that you are able to run about and do as you please, is because I allow it.”

“It’s my job, Sephi. It’s not like I can just—”

“Hush. If I objected to your waywardness, I would put a stop to it, but I do not. It amuses me, the way you play these fools like perfectly tuned instruments. The way you make them line up to lay riches at your feet, in exchange for a taste of your body. You have given yourself to so many men, and yet none of them can truly possess you. They are your servants and playthings. You are free.” 

“B—but you just said I belong to you,” Cloud faltered.

“That does not mean I intend to cage you. You would wither in captivity, and you would hate me. I would rather…but that is not what I’ve come to talk about. I sought you out because you are in a position to be useful to me. You are going to be my eyes inside Shinra.”

Shit. Cloud’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean? Why me?”

“There is no chance you would travel regularly to Shinra Tower for an ordinary client, and even less chance an ordinary client could dispatch the Turks, to transport you, to and fro. That means your clearance must grant you upper-level access.” 

Cloud was stunned that Sephiroth knew all of that, but he didn’t dare ask how. He also didn’t think his usual tactic of playing dumb was going to do much good, so he just kept his mouth shut.

Sephiroth slapped something onto the wall, in front of his face. It was a creased and faded photo, of a pretty young woman, with brown eyes and light-brown hair. 

“Who’s she?” Cloud asked, confused.

“Irrelevant. All you need to know is that she is somewhere in Shinra Tower. Memorize her face. You will look for her, for me. Tell me, immediately, the moment you see her. That’s all. Simple enough, yes?”

“Seph, this…I can’t just go snooping around in there. What if I get caught?”

“I trust you can use your talents to talk your way out of any minor trouble you encounter. But if it truly came to life or death, you’ve no need to fear. I will come to your rescue.”

“Oh, you will? And how the hell are you gonna rescue me, inside Shinra Tower?” Cloud demanded, his blue eyes sparking defiantly.

Sephiroth answered with a cold chuckle. “There are few places in this world that can keep me out.”

“If it’s so easy for you to get in, then why don’t you look for this woman, yourself? What do you need me for?” 

“The time has not yet come, to move openly, against Shinra. For now, I must stay in the shadows.” His grip tightened on the back of Cloud’s neck. “I trust my little puppet will do his very best, for me.”

“I—I will,” Cloud gasped, as Sephiroth pressed him into the wall with his body, and his hard dick dug into his ass. “You know I’ll—ngh! You know I’ll do whatever you say.”

Sephiroth gave a pleased hum, then grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. Cloud’s mouth opened readily, to submit to the invasion, as the man’s tongue rolled forcefully over his.

He didn’t like being suddenly grabbed on the street and ordered around, but being near Sephiroth for any length of time had an intoxicating effect on him. No matter how insane and dangerous his rational mind knew Sephiroth was, Cloud’s body always wanted him so badly he could taste it.

That raw, animal desire was even more intense now, away from his workplace, and without the context of a professional transaction. He was already fumbling to undo his own trousers and yank them down around his thighs, as they kissed feverishly. He heard steel buttons jingle faintly behind him, then that huge, heavy dick slotted into the cleft of his ass. 

“My bag,” he panted, licking his kiss-bruised lips. “There’s lube.”

Keeping a hand on his hip, Sephiroth reached down and picked up the bag. Cloud dug out the bottle of lubricant, which he squeezed all over his hand, then reached back to slick the thick, hard, veiny shaft. That was all the preparation Sephiroth had the patience for. He pushed the big, blunt head against his hole, still pink and swollen from Reeve, and impaled him, in one long slide, clamping a gloved hand over Cloud’s mouth, to muffle his moans. 

Once he was all the way in, he set a ruthless pace, showing no tenderness, whatsoever; thrusting hard and deep, pounding Cloud into the cold bricks. The way Sephiroth fucked was always pretty rough, but this felt different. Possessive and domineering, with a hostile edge. Like he was trying to fuck Reeve out of him (despite the fact that Reeve was a gentleman and hadn’t come inside, and Cloud had already showered, anyway). 

Just then, a wave of Sephiroth’s aromatic, masculine scent, like leather and cedar smoke, washed over him, and made Cloud’s head spin like he was drunk. He let go and lost himself in the unhinged lust and brutal intensity, radiating like heat from this monstrously strong and preternaturally gorgeous man. 

That massive shaft was drilling into him, thrumming over his prostate, making his dick so hard it ached, and was leaking like a faucet. He wanted to come so badly, he didn’t care about anything else, let alone the fact that they were outdoors, in a public alleyway, only a few meters from a busy street.

Biting his bottom lip, he looked over his shoulder at Sephiroth, and grabbed hold of his leather coat, tugging him closer, urging him to fuck him harder. 

Sephiroth’s slit pupils dilated visibly in his pale, blue-green irises. He clamped his hand over Cloud’s mouth again, and with a low snarl, he bared his sharp teeth and bit into his neck, so deep it broke the skin. 

Cloud went rigid, screaming hoarsely into Sephiroth’s muffling glove, while he came hard, spurting against the wall, in hot, rapid pulses. Sephiroth came at the same time, with a strangled groan, hips stuttering, as his big, thick shaft pulsed, pumping a molten hot flood into Cloud’s convulsing hole. 

The gloved hand released his mouth. Cloud’s head lolled forward and he let his sweat-damp forehead rest on the cold brick, enjoying the soothing coolness, while he caught his breath. Sephiroth was breathing hard too, still holding him pinned, but more gently, now, pressing what felt like apologetic kisses to the badly bruised spot on his neck. 

When he pulled out, he held Cloud open with his thumbs, to watch the semen trickle down his thighs, which seemed to please him immensely. Cloud wrinkled his nose in annoyance, but he was facing the wall still, so Sephiroth didn’t see. 

It really was incredibly rude of him to come inside, considering Cloud still had to ride the train for an hour to get home. He was thinking irritably about that and zipping up his pants, when the roar of a motorcycle engine filled the air, amplified by echoing off all the walls in the small alleyway. 

“Come,” a much subdued and unusually lucid-looking Sephiroth said, holding out his gloved hand. “I’ll take you home.”

Kadaj was waiting on the street, astride one of the gang’s huge, black motorcycles. When he saw them step out of the alleyway together, he dismounted and stood there sullenly, looking at the ground. Sephiroth threw his long leg over the saddle and Cloud climbed on, behind him. Without so much as a glance at his younger brother, Sephiroth instructed Cloud to hang on tight, then gunned the engine and sped away, down the street.

Kadaj lifted his pale-blue eyes and glared venomously after them, his fists clenching and unclenching, at his sides, till they faded from sight. Then he turned and walked away, in the opposite direction. 

Atop the roof of one of the many brownstone residential buildings, that filled this area, another figure leaned out and peered down the street, in the direction Sephiroth and Cloud rode off, then the direction Kadaj went. Then it also vanished into the night.

When they pulled up in front of the Honeybee, Cloud clambered off the bike, and hung his arms around Sephiroth’s neck, while they shared a slow, lingering kiss. Even after they drew apart, Sephiroth gazed at him for a long time, tucking his hair behind his ear and stroking his face, like he was reluctant to let him go. 

Cloud’s cheeks got hot and his stomach fluttered. He’d never felt so much like Sephiroth was actually looking at him and seeing him, before. There was something lonely and longing in the man’s eerily beautiful eyes, that made made Cloud’s chest ache. 

His own eyes began to sting with impending tears. Then all at once, it was as if a wall of ice snapped up between them. The catlike eyes glittered and the line of that perfect mouth hardened.

“Go,” Sephiroth said, turning away. “Don’t forget to do what I told you.”

Cloud stood there looking dazed, as the motorcycle roared away, down the narrow street. Then he shook himself and hurried inside. He almost ran face-first into Nero, who was standing directly in the doorway, for some reason. 

“What the hell!” Cloud said crossly. “Why are you always blocking every door I go through!”

“Who was that man, on the chopper?” Nero asked. “It can’t be…does our little bimbo have a boyfriend?”

Cloud wanted to tell him to fuck off, but asshole or no, Nero worked here, now. He should know about the hazards he might encounter. “That was Sephiroth, the leader of the Remnants biker gang. He’s psychotic and dangerous as fuck and I don’t want to die, so I do whatever he says. If he comes here, we all do whatever he says, and don’t give him an excuse to kill anyone. You can ask Andrea, if you don’t believe me.”

“It didn’t look like you were scared for your life, just now. It looked like you were kissing your boyfriend goodbye.” Nero sniffed the air and smirked. “And you smell like you just fucked in an alley.” 

“How could you possibly smell an alley?” Cloud retorted. “You’re just saying any shit you can think of, to be insulting.”

Nero arched a black brow. “Am I wrong?” 

Cloud blushed guiltily and scowled to cover it up. “It’s none of your business! Why are you even talking to me?”

“Andrea wants you. He said to bring you to his office, when you got back.”

Cloud slumped. He was sticky and grouchy and exhausted, having spent the past several hours having sex with two men in a row, and then riding on a motorcycle all the way from the upper city, clinging to a madman for dear life, the entire time (which was still more than half an hour, despite Sephiroth’s kamikaze style of navigating traffic). But Andrea was the boss, so he dragged himself to the elevator, pointedly ignoring Nero, who followed him in, looking infuriatingly smug. 

“Cloud, you’re here,” Andrea said, beckoning them into his office. “Your client has confirmed that trip, he mentioned. You’ll be leaving Friday afternoon, and returning the following Friday.”

Cloud nodded, unable to suppress his smile, upon hearing that he really was going to Wutai with Vincent. And for a whole week! 

“That’s why I called you both in,” Andrea went on. “Nero, this means you’ll be filling in for Cloud, for the first time, Saturday night. It’s a big responsibility. The Honeybees will be counting on you to carry the show.” 

Nero’s crimson eyes flashed eagerly. “I won’t disappoint you, boss.” 

“Good! That’s what I like to hear,” Andrea said, looking pleased. “Cloud, you have a few days before your trip, so I want you to spend them helping Nero prepare for the headlining spot. That’s your top priority. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Cloud said glumly, his Wutai excitement severely dampened by the prospect of having Nero stuck to his side for three days.

When the two left the office, Nero’s hands were shaking with adrenaline. This was the moment he’d been waiting and preparing for. He was going to see Vincent Valentine, face to face. Finally, everything would be set in motion. Cloud noticed his agitated fidgeting, while they were riding the elevator, and misunderstood.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said. “It’s not much different from the Friday night shows.”

Nero didn’t correct his error. “I heard all the VIPs come to your Saturday shows, though. That’s a lot of pressure.” 

“They’re just bored, old, rich guys. They’re not scary,” Cloud assured him, as the two disembarked, on their floor. “The only one we absolutely must keep happy is Vincent Valentine, and he won’t be there, so there’s nothing to stress about.”

Nero’s heart stopped. “What…he won’t?”

“Of course not,” Cloud said, as if he should have known. “I’m going to Wutai with him. That’s why you’re covering for me, in the first place. See you tomorrow.”

Nero was still reeling from the emotional whiplash, as Cloud walked away, and their rooms were on opposite ends of the hall, so he had no excuse to follow and probe for more information. His initial disappointment quickly gave way anger, at the little blonde who was blithely ruining all his plans. Under a black cloud, he stalked to his room, slammed the door, and threw himself on the bed. Weiss flipped down from the headstand push-ups he’d been doing, and came to sit beside him. 

“I’m covering the bimbo’s show Saturday,” Nero said, before he had a chance to ask. 

“That’s exactly what we wanted,” Weiss pointed out. “What’s wrong?”

“Vincent Valentine won’t be there! He’s taking the bimbo out of town, and that’s why I’m covering for him! It’s like that little rat-faced eyesore exists just to get in my way!”

“There will be other opportunities. Don’t get upset, you’ll make yourself sick,” Weiss said, spreading his arms. “Come here. Let me hold you.”

Nero turned his back and curled into a sullen ball. Undeterred, Weiss dragged his stubborn little brother into his lap, to wrap him up in a tight embrace. Nero wriggled and kicked petulantly, but only for a moment. Then he surrendered and burrowed into his brother’s bare chest, taking deep breaths of his scent, to soothe himself. 

“I hate him, brother,” he pouted, peering up at Weiss from beneath his long, sooty eyelashes. “Kill him, for me.”

Weiss smiled adoringly, smoothing the silky, black hair back from his pallid face. “Soon, my love. We must first fulfill our purpose. Then we will have leisure, to bathe in the blood of our enemies.” 

“But who knows how long that’s going to take,” Nero huffed. “I want to kill him, now.”

Weiss chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his broad ribcage. “Have patience, little one. When all is done, I will bring him to you, and we will take our time with him. I wonder how long we can keep him alive.”

Nero pushed him onto his back and straddled him, sliding his hands up and down his ridiculously muscular torso, his crimson eyes kindled with a deranged light. “Tell me, brother. Tell me what you’ll do to him. I want to hear it, so I can imagine every single detail.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

MY SAD MURDER-BABY SEPHIROTH SOMEONE BE NICE TO HIM

[frnknstin]

"What are you looking for now?" — From Sherlock Holmes. ( @reverdies )

Victor rose slowly from the open cabinet, turning to face Holmes with an expression that comically screamed "child caught in the act." Clearing his throat and avoiding Holmes' gaze, he stumbled over an excuse for the mess he had made. "Why, I was just... you know..."

Holmes' tone made Victor feel even more like a guilty child. Determined to regain his composure, Victor straightened up, placing his hands on his hips and lifting his chin. "I was looking for more of that blood test which you created, when I looked in what I thought was the chemicals cabinet it—why, it was full of different types of bullets." He decided to omit the detail about the blood-stained ones. "So, I thought, maybe it could be here, in the kitchen, yet—" He paused, glancing back at the open cabinet and the stench emanating from it. "That—now that would be a collection of pig hearts. Marinating. Decomposing. On a kitchen shelf."

He had found tobacco in a Persian slipper, cigarettes in the coal scuttle, and suspected he might find a new will to live somewhere among the unanswered correspondence pinned to the mantelpiece with a knife. Victor was fairly sure he had lost his old will to live in the opium stored in the Russian nesting dolls.

Why was he even apologizing? Holmes was the one living in a pigsty. Victor kept his chemistry materials impeccably organized, bullets in the kitchen icebox, pig hearts on the bathroom counter, and tobacco in his wallet, as any sensible person would.

Exasperated, he gestured vaguely at the chaotic cabinets. "This is—this—" Victor turned back to Holmes, seemingly at a loss for words. "What is this, Mr. Holmes?"

[lockwood-suggestion]

Dressing gown. Persian slippers. Blood-stained bandage. Last word in men’s fashions