#simply because mob helped him when he had no reason to either

[logicalbookthief]

The most important seed you can plant is kindness; the most important crop it yields is joy (x) 💐

[puzzleglum]

How will Frankie's false death potion come into play?

It's an important question. It might be the only thing that could save Hyde from getting arrested in the next chapter.

Le Sommeil de la Mort, The Sleep of Death, induces near death experiences. Rather dangerous, obviously. But if Hyde can use it to trick the peelers into thinking he’s gone, they’d finally stop looking for him.

So the question is, where is it now?

Jekyll had confiscated it, along with other equipment from the Society’s attic. He hid it all in his own lab, behind his house, because the Lodgers know every inch of the Society building.

When he left it there, we got another close-up panel, implying it’s an important item that will be worth remembering for the future.

After the Exhibition, during the celebration party at Jekyll’s house, the Lodgers finally got their things back. That was last night, in the comic’s present time. Jekyll let everyone into his lab.

But the thing is, we didn’t see the potion in this scene. The very last time we saw it was when Jekyll first put it there, in that close-up panel.

Does this mean the potion is still at his lab? No, not really. Here’s what I think happened:

My theory is simply that one of the Lodgers took it back to the Society off-screen. Whoever this Lodger is, they’ve been holding on to the potion since.

Why don’t I think it’s still at his lab, even though it’s technically possible? Several reasons. Enough to provide a list:

1: If they had to go all the way back to the lab to get it, it might bog the story’s pacing down too much. Having it already present at the Society is more economical storytelling.

2: It seems clear to me that the peelers have already spotted Hyde inside Jekyll’s office. They know he’s there. I don’t think there’s enough time to get the potion if it’s not already at the Society. They have to act now, to prevent Hyde’s arrest as quickly as possible.

(Sidenote: Hyde’s poses and expressions in these first two panels might be some of my favorite in the whole comic. XD It’s just funny!)

3: This little nugget of info from an update post by Sage implies we’re not leaving the setting of the Society anytime soon. Or at least, that the main cast will remain there.

I'm betting Hyde, Lanyon, Jasper, Rachel, and Frankie are all staying right where they are for the next two chapters. Inside, or just outside, the Society building. (Also, the Society will probably get attacked by the angry mob outside, soon. Don’t think I forgot about THAT. But I’ll talk about it more another day. Promise!)

But there’s a deeper reason why I think it’d be more interesting if the potion was already at the Society, in a mysterious Lodger’s hands.

It means Hyde would have to ask for help. And/or accept help when it’s offered to him. From the same people who know his secret, now. Jekyll and Hyde’s secret.

It would be juicy. Just imagine it. Hyde having to work with the people he revealed his true identity to, if he wants to have ANY HOPE of survival. The tension would be excellent for the narrative progression! It would provide such a great opportunity for character development, too.

Why would they help him? Because I think they’ll want Jekyll back, too. Can’t try to do that if Hyde’s in jail.

And besides…I don’t think they hate Jekyll or Hyde, after the reveal. It was a big shock, of course. But Jekyll IS their leader, and after the Exhibition’s success, they were clearly grateful to him for everything he did to make it happen. Doesn’t that mean anything, anymore? Perhaps they’d just need a reminder. Perhaps Lanyon or someone else can give it to them.

Also, the potion will likely not even occur to Hyde, on his own, as a solution. Because he’s currently having a panicked, desperate breakdown that makes it impossible to think logically. That breakdown is fully earned, if you ask me, since he lost the literal other half of his soul, but yeah. Either way, he wouldn’t know the potion’s location.

Somebody else has to bring up the potion as a way to save him from the peelers. There’s three options: Frankie, Jasper, or any of the Lodgers who were present during Frankie’s demonstration. Lanyon doesn’t know about it, and neither Rachel.

I theorize that they’ll all have to brainstorm solutions, and one of the Lodgers will mention they have the potion, or somebody will ask everyone if they know where it is. That’s when it will FINALLY resurface.

Hyde needs a lot of help if he wants to get out of this desperate situation, and somehow get Jekyll back. And it starts with the first, most urgent step: preventing his arrest.

:D At last, I wanted to mention that it could be a funny, or at least thematic callback to this little moment from Chapter 4, from a different time when Hyde needed help from any Lodger:

On a more serious note, it would make for a great parallel if Hyde is on the verge of giving up completely, and it’s the Lodgers who rally him up, this time. A reversal of when Hyde rallied the Lodgers to defend the Society from Doctor Moreau and his beasts. Maybe it’s just me, but I can really picture it!

That’s all for now! Thanks for reading!! :DDDDD

[tennessoui]

Kisses to distract for the playmaker au 🌌

omg from this prompt list, kisses to distract from the au where all the kisses are basically to deceive and to distract???? hell yes!!!

so i couldn't pick which kiss i wanted and then i remembered i made a playmaker post once about how vos is probably sent undercover/ends up at anakin's table and obi-wan freaks out and corners him and they're found and its so suspicious that they would be so close talking in a secret corner that before they're found, vos kisses obi-wan so that people will just think that they're horny only for vos to then die because That's Anakin's Little Mouse

so this is that....except a little different cause obi-wan's daddy issues are Daddying rn

(2.6k) (cw: a nonconsensual kiss. but also. like. murder???)

Obi-Wan can feel his heart beating. It’s so loud in his mind that he can barely hear what Vader is saying, and he’s sitting in the man’s lap, face tucked up beneath his chin.

He can’t remember a time he’s felt more exposed, not even the very first time Vader’s hands had found his waist and pulled him into his lap in front of half his highest ranking men. 

In the intervening weeks, it’s even been—well. It’s become rather…comfortable. If he doesn’t think of all the reasons it isn’t. 

Perched on Anakin’s thighs, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other held to his lap, he can press his face up against the man’s hair. He can close his eyes and commit himself wholly to listening to the men and women around him talk. Talk of shipments and delays, money owed, lives taken in payment. Obi-Wan can memorize everything and he can do it from the throne of the very mob his department has tasked him with bringing down. He can memorize it all and spend the moments in between pressing kisses to the tendons of Anakin’s neck, trailing his fingers along the in-seam of his suit pants, rubbing at the mob boss’ shoulder with the palm of his other hand.

Because—because that’s what the mission instructs that he do. He’s supposed to gather intel, gather evidence. And he’s supposed to do it without Anakin realizing that there’s a rat wrapped around his heart. The kisses—the kisses help. Distract him.

And it feels good. To kiss him.

To tease him into fucking him up against the wall the second they get somewhere private. To coax him into such violent need he dismisses his men and has Obi-Wan right where they’re sitting. 

It feels good, to be so desired that it’s uncontrollable. To be so desired that the desire must be dealt with, must be whittled down simply by the act of having. Of taking.

Obi-Wan doesn’t feel guilty about how good it feels. It should feel good to be touched. It should be some sort of bonus to the undercover mission that it is sometimes him whose hands shake with the desire to be on Anakin’s skin. It is not something he needs to feel guilty about.

It is not something his father needs to know about either, the way that the son he raised turns into a slut the moment a criminal gets between his thighs.

And luckily enough, right now, Obi-Wan is the sole decider of what Qui-Gon Jinn gets to know. That’s the nature of being the only rat to have lived this long in the Skywalker mob. That’s the nature of being the only rat. Obi-Wan gets to decide what he tells his team and what he leaves out of their quick and hurried meetings when Obi-Wan’s supposed to be on a run.

But—but he was supposed to be the only rat.

He was not supposed to look across the long table laden with food that Anakin uses for his mob meetings and see a face he recognized. 

Obi-Wan’s head is swimming, and his heart is pounding so loudly in his ears that Anakin must be able to hear it too. That must be why he adjusts his grip on him, dragging him further into his arms as if that will make him feel safer.

All it does is drag the hem of his shorts further up his thigh, exposing the lace end of the stockings he’s wearing. All it does is tug the droopy material of his shirt off his shoulder—revealing the strappy red lace of the bralette beneath.

It has happened before—hell, Obi-Wan has dressed like this in front of these men for the express purpose of this happening, of his outfit revealing what lies beneath while he can feign ignorance. Nothing gets Anakin’s hands on him faster than other men seeing what he thinks is only his.

What is only his.

He came tonight wearing the brightest colors of pretty things he owned in order for this to happen because it has been far too long since Anakin last snapped. He has been far too put together lately, far too...distant.

It makes Obi-Wan’s chest tight with anxiety. He has not yet been able to figure out what attracted the mob boss to him in the first place, and he’s spent the last several days wondering if it’s gone. If he’s about to be tossed to the side, ripped out of Anakin’s bed with the same ease he was granted entry.

Or—maybe worse, what if Anakin has made him as a rat? What if he’s to be killed?

What if his father knows that and he thought to send in Obi-Wan’s replacement before he can die? It would be less suspicious, wouldn’t it? 

No. Obi-Wan is being paranoid. Too paranoid. Even if he were to lose Anakin’s attention, he has the twins wrapped around his thumb. Anakin cannot kill him, his children would not stand for it. 

And—it would give him time to figure out what he did wrong, what made Anakin’s eyes stray. He could be better. Figure out how to do better, be what he needed.

For the sake of the mission.

And…there would be no way for his father to catch wind of the mob realizing there’s a rat before Obi-Wan knows. 

So the fact that Quinlan Vos is sitting close to the foot of the table…that he’s here, in this room, as a ranking member of Anakin’s mob….

That must mean that his father does not trust him to be doing his job. That Obi-Wan’s performance has disappointed him somehow, that he hasn’t been enough. He has not given them the information that they need and so his father has found a replacement.

And now the man who used to help Obi-Wan sort his father’s highlighters by color and size is staring at him from down the table, looking at the lines of his lingerie as he sits on the lap of the most dangerous mob boss in the city.

“Well,” Anakin says, tossing his napkin onto his empty plate. “Let’s break so that they can clean up this mess. And then—to business, men.”

The words are met with the thud and scrape of twenty or thirty chairs pushing back from their seats as the owners vacate them obediently. Obi-Wan, just as obedient, stays still. Anakin’s hand has clasped around the back of his neck, keeping him in position. 

“You’re shaking, little mouse,” the mob boss murmurs.

“It’s cold,” Obi-Wan replies automatically, turning his face into his neck. He presses the faintest of kisses there and thinks about ripping the man’s throat open with his teeth, ending all of his problems now. 

“Aw, baby, but you look so pretty like this,” Anakin says, ghosting his hand up the outside of his thigh and resting it just beneath the hem of his shorts. Then, his tone changes, growing lower, darker. Vader.  “The men couldn’t look away.”

Obi-Wan tries to draw a breath, but it stalls out in his chest. He stills, and then immediately tries to pretend that he hasn’t, that his thoughts have flown to Vos, who had been just as surprised to see him in Anakin’s lap as Obi-Wan had been to see him at Anakin’s table. 

“Hm?” Vader continues, as if Obi-Wan has spoken.

“I didn’t notice,” Obi-Wan finally says, sitting back so he can look fully into Vader’s eyes. “All I was looking at was you.”

They’re different from Anakin’s, Vader’s eyes. He would include this in his reports if he could figure out a way to say it that doesn’t make him sound insane. It’s been a long-held theory, that Anakin Skywalker isn’t always just Anakin Skywalker, but no one’s ever been able to have irrefutable proof.

But looking into Vader’s eyes, Obi-Wan knows. Knows it’s Vader who is looking back. Anakin is a dangerous man all on his own, but Vader…Vader is another beast entirely.

One that Obi-Wan isn’t prepared to deal with right now. Not when he is so on edge. When Vos is here. At Anakin’s restaurant. At his table.

Does Obi-Wan’s father really think he has failed so entirely? Does he really think he needs to be replaced? Needs support?

“I need to stretch my legs,” Obi-Wan says, pushing away from Vader’s chest. “I heard you and Ahsoka talking over it, I know this meeting will be a long one.” “My, what big ears you have, little mouse,” Vader says silkily, even as he drops his hands and leans back in his chair. The dismissal is clear; Obi-Wan is being given what he wants.

He gets several steps away before he looks back at Anakin, hands tightening into fists and releasing. 

The man is watching him go, wine glass raised in front of his lips. He hasn’t closed his legs yet, sprawling out on his chair like it’s a throne.

And Obi-Wan is—torn. He needs to track down Vos. He needs to find a place to talk with him. 

But he needs—he needs to stay here, with Anakin. He needs to turn back around and press himself up against Anakin’s chest once more, spread himself over him and make him feel good. So good that Anakin will not kill him nor tell him to leave and kill him all the same.

The shame and guilt that come on the heels of that thought are strong enough to force him to look away, force him out of the room.

He doesn’t get far.

A hand wraps around his arm and pulls him aside almost as soon as he’s exited the wide main room of the second floor of Anakin’s restaurant.

Obi-Wan makes an automatic, furious sound, but the hold on his arm only tightens as he’s pulled further into a dark and quiet alcove, mostly shielded by a marbled statue.

“What the hell are you doing,” the man who has grabbed Obi-Wan whispers furiously, and Obi-Wan goes almost boneless with relief. Oh, thank God it’s Vos.

“Me? What are you doing—” he turns around to face him fully, as much as the tight space can allow. “Did my father send you?”

In the shadows of the alcove, Obi-Wan can barely see Vos roll his eyes. “Probably in his mind, yeah, he did. I got back from one undercover mission, got sent the contacts for another almost immediately, wound up here, where his precious son’s whor—”

“What does that mean—”

“And he should have, Jesus, Kenobi! They told me you were making nice with the mob, wait until they hear you’re grinding up on Vader during his business meetings, what the fuck—-”

“No!” Obi-Wan doesn’t mean to say it so loudly or so vehemently, but he can’t. Qui-Gon was never supposed to know, no one was supposed to know, and now they will, and maybe his father will pull him off the case, can he do that? Would he try? If he thought Obi-Wan was doing a bad enough job, he would. He would take him away, get Detective Secura to arrest him next time they meet for information, it wouldn’t blow his cover, but it would take him away from—

From Anakin.

Obi-Wan can’t let that happen.

He hears footsteps, pointed and loud, coming down the hallway toward them. The break must nearing over, it’ll be time to get back to the real meat of the meeting, the actual mob business now, and then Obi-Wan won’t see Vos again. No way Anakin would let him spend a moment alone with another man—it would look suspicious anyway, if Ben knew this random mobster. Two rats getting cozy under the same roof, it doesn’t look good.

Anakin can’t know. Obi-Wan can’t lose him. He can’t lose him.

He can’t.

I’m sorry, he thinks and he knows it’s not good enough but the guilt does not drown out the need burning in his chest. The desire that cannot be controlled.

In the next moment, he’s pushing Vos up against the wall of the alcove, forcing him back with a grunt that’s loud enough that the footsteps outside pause.

Turn.

Just as Obi-Wan presses his lips against Vos’, pulling his own shirt down to look dissheveled. Messy. Like someone has been running their hands over his clothes.

“Oh, now that’s something Vader will want to know about,” Ahsoka Tano says. Obi-Wan rips himself away almost as fast as he pushed himself into Vos’ space.

It isn’t an act when he rubs the back of his hand over his lips. He’d kissed Vos mid-word, gotten the man’s spit in his mouth. He doesn’t like the taste, wishes it was Anakin’s.

“Tano,” he says. “Just making friends.”

Tano’s eyebrows fly up further than Obi-Wan’s ever seen them. “You get all your friends killed, Ben?”

Vos moves to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and the guilt and shame slam into Obi-Wan so suddenly that he almost rocks back from the blow. Vos is eight years older than him; was just fresh from the academy when Obi-Wan was still just a kid left to twiddle his thumbs at the police station waiting for his father to take him home. He’d gotten him take-out before. Coffee. Water. Little games to play with.

And Obi-Wan has gotten him killed.

“A little kiss won’t kill me,” Vos says, clapping a hand to Obi-Wan’s shoulder. There’s a note of bravado in his voice.

“Not quickly,” Tano promises. She raises her hand, snaps it when Obi-Wan doesn’t exit as quickly as she wants. “Come on, Benny. Let’s get you back to daddy.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan says, taking a shaking step forward. All he can think about suddenly is Vos, a decade younger and relegated to a shitty desk in the back of the station first year out of the academy, shoes up on his files, biology flashcards in his hands as he ran Obi-Wan through the questions.

What has he done?

What has he done?

“Please,” he finally says, stumbling out of the alcove, and when his voice wavers, he’s not faking it. What has he done? He has gotten Vos killed—and for what? Why had he kissed him? He could have—he could have talked to him, he could have begged. He could have explained the situation, why did he have to—

Because there is nothing Obi-Wan can say that will make Tano hold her tongue.

And there is nothing Obi-Wan can do to stay Anakin’s hands. He has murdered people for less. Perhaps this time he’ll murder Obi-Wan too, that way Obi-Wan will not have to live too long with the weight of this guilt.

“Ladies first,” Tano says as she opens the door back into the room. It’s buzzing with the sound of other people’s voices, the movement of them as they find their seats once more.

Obi-Wan walks forward and Anakin’s eyes snap to him immediately. They’re dark and narrowed, as if he already knows more than he likes.

The walk has never been longer to get to Anakin’s side once more. 

He’s pulled to stand in between Anakin’s spread thighs, the man’s hands falling to his waist and pulling him in, splaying out across his hips.

“Mm,” the mobster murmurs, and Obi-Wan’s legs are so shaky that he has to clamber up onto his lap just to avoid falling apart then and there. What has he done. What has he done?

“You smell different, baby,” Anakin says. “What have you been doing?” Obi-Wan wonders suddenly, wildly, if he can smell his fear. If he could see it in his eyes as he approached.

“Making friends,” Tano reports as she drops into the chair next to them. “Tongue first.”

Anakin’s hands still and then tighten. When he speaks, his voice is low and deep and all Vader. “Is that right, little mouse?”

And Obi-Wan—there is nothing Obi-Wan can do save for letting the guilt kill him.

So Obi-Wan nods. He nods and raises Vader's chin with his hand, forcing him to look at him. "I told you I was cold," he said as if he'd been so cold he found another man's body to keep him warm in the minutes he was away from Anakin.

Anakin's eyes are like pieces of ice. There's no warmth in them, but there's a glowing light of something that looks a lot like hunger. Fascination.

It's the same way he looked at him when he first saw him. As if he were intrigued.

The expression makes something that has been wound tight these last few weeks dissolve into nothing. Anakin's eyes promise that there will be no more distance between them. That he has not grown so tired of him that he will be discarded with next week's recycling.

And despite the guilt, the worry, the shame that's burning Obi-Wan's insides to ash, that look in Anakin's eyes warms him to the core.

[lala1267]

Bow down bitches.

Summary: You were a beautiful model. You weren't very fond of Elvis at first, but when you began to like him, you ruined everything. Your security guard was a part of the problem.

Warnings: smut kinda, not Elvis x reader. (it's not a heavy smut dw). Swearing, punching, and blood (if you squint).

I was a sexy nineteen year old girl who was named Natalya. I was a model for chanel. I had long blonde hair, big dough eyes, and an hourglass figure. I was perfect. I was used to getting what I wanted when I wanted. If someone were to say no, I would either have a fit or storm off. I was a bitch. But being a sexy bitch wasn't easy. Every man that I met wanted to get me drunk and naked. I was a beautiful girl that was used for her body, many times. Men would touch and tease me and play it off as a 'joke'. I did what I wanted, I would party, drink and smoke. I was living my best life.

Sunday, 5th June, 8pm 1970.

I was backstage getting ready for my walk. It was a very important walk since there would be celebrities watching in the front row seats. But I wasn't nervous, I knew I could outdo all of the other models as usual. I was put in a small tight blue dress that was dotted with expensive rhinestones. I also wore lavish white heels, and my hair was left to flow along my back like a blanket. My makeup was amazing, I had light blue eyeshadow with long black eyeliner, and my lips were a glossy pink. I was next up, I was just thinking about which celebrities would be there. Once I heard my name, I knew it was time. I strutted out with confidence, my hips swayed, and my arms swung. My walk was very arrogant and sassy, but it was also elegant and beautiful. I looked at the celebrities when I locked eyes with the one and only Elvis Presley. I didn't know why he was even here. Surely, he had his singing stuff going on. He stared at me like i was a goddess. I wasn't far from one. His deep gaze didn't faze me. Once I turned around, he flashed me a smile, which I didn't return, I needed to remain professional for the sake of my job. I strutted backstage and began to get undressed and pack my things. I got dressed into a pink, short, flowy dress and a pair of white converse. I left my hair down so that it could seep over my shoulders like water. Thirty minutes had passed, and I was ready to go home. I walked through the main entrance, and I was instantly mobbed by paparazzi, I simply smiled and gave them something to take pictures of. As I got into my car, I was told by my driver,

"Excuse me, ma'am, Elvis Presley has offered to take you to his hotel. He said he wants to get to know you." I rolled my eyes.

"Get to know me, my ass. All guys say that when they just want sex. Besides, I'm not interested in him anyway."

"Ma'am, this could be good. You don't have to date him. He sounded very desperate, at least consider giving the guy a chance."

I paused to think before replying.

"For goodness sake, alright, take me there." I said in a slightly annoyed tone.

"Ma'am, he said that he can send a car over to pick you up."

"I don't need his shit, I have my own car." I angrily said as I crossed my arms. The only reason I agreed to this was because Elvis was known for girls chasing him. Mabey he should do the chasing for once.

Arriving at Elvis's Hotel

I stepped out of the car and onto the cold cement road. It was 10pm. I was ready to go to bed, but of course, Elvis had to bother me at this time. I walked into the lobby with my favourite security guard, Mike. He was a very kind person. I walked up to the reception.

"Hello, how may I help you." The lady behind the desk asked whilst she chomped on her gum like a damn horse.

"I'm here to meet Elvis. Where is his room." I asked.

"Well, Elvis doesn't seem to have anyone on his visiting list. Are you sure you're here to visit him?" I crossed my arms as I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure, just call him or something." I snapped as I started growing impatient. The lady let out a small sigh before picking up the phone.

"Yes, there is a girl that is saying that you invited her here." The lady said. I watched her face drop as Elvis instructed her to give me his room number. She huffed as she looked up to me, who had a smug smirk on my face.

"Room is 34, on the second floor." She stated as she lost eye contact with my blue eyes. I just fake smiled and waved as I walked over to the elevator. I pressed a button that read,

'Floor 2'

I turned to Mike, my security guard.

"That lady pissed me off." I said angrily. I felt his hand rub my back in a circle motion before he spoke.

"Well, at least you got your way in the end, and you are prettier than her anyway." He said as he looked down to me with his piercing blue eyes. His blonde hair hung infornt of his face. I smiled as I hugged his arm. Once the lift opened, we stepped out and made our way to the room, linking arms. Mike nocked on the door that had Elvis's name on. We waited until the door opened. We were met with some random guy who was definitely not Elvis. He smiled.

"Ah, hello, you must be Natalya." He said cheerfully. I just nodded as I spoke.

"Yep, that's me."

"Why don't you come in." He said. I grabbed Mike's arm and pulled him in with me, I didn't want to be alone with Elvis. I didn't even like Elvis. I looked around the rather large room. It had lavish red carpets and long purple curtains. There was a kitchen and a living room area. I looked around until I saw Elvis eagerly walking up to me. He was about to pull me into a hug when I stuck my hand out for him to shake.

"Nice to see ya Natalya and..."

"Mike." I said. Elvis's face dropped slightly.

"Is he your boyfriend or what." I furrowed my brows and crossed my arms.

"No, he's my friend, best friend, actually." I said in a tone. Elvis nodded. I looked up to Mike, who was towering behind me. I just gave him a look that basically meant,

'I hate Elvis already'

I turned back to Elvis.

"Well, shall we sit." He asked with a stupid smile on his face. I nodded. Mike and I followed behind Elvis. We sat down on the sofa in his living room. Elvis looked up at his freind, the one who had let us in.

"Ya can leave now, Jerry." he said. He turned back to me, who was opposite him on the other sofa with Mike. I was very close to Mike since I didn't like the man that sat in front of us.

"Tell me about yourself, darlin." Elvis said in a deep voice. His voice made me itch and cringe.

"Yeah, don't call me that. But I do modelling, and my name is Natalya." I said bluntly. He sat up.

"Well, I see that you are close with your friend Mike, he must be a good man." Elvis said in a sly tone. I looked up at Mike who was visibly annoyed. I held his hand to tell him to calm down. I looked back at Elvis who was watching me.

"Yeah, we are close, and he is a very good man. He's the best man. He treats me well." I said as I flicked my hair. Elvis and Mike had a mini staring contest for a few seconds. Mike was clenching his fists and was about to lose it. I placed my hand on his and whispered.

"You should go, I don't want a fight to happen, I'm too tired for all of this." I looked into his eyes as he nodded. He gripped my hand before standing up and walking out of the door. I turned back to Elvis, who was staring at me.

"You kicked him out?" He asked excitedly.

"No, i just told him to leave since you guys don't seem to get along."

"Yeah, damn right we don't." He said in a raspy voice. I rolled my eyes and crossed my legs. This was going to be a long night.

30 minutes later

We had been talking and getting to know eachover for a while now. I still didn't like him.

"Shall we watch some TV in my room." Of course, the only place he had a TV was in his room. What a coincidence. I was tired and I didn't feel like being a bitch so i nodded and followed him. I sat myself down on the edge of his bed, facing the TV. He grabbed a bowl of popcorn that was in his room for some reason. He placed it on his lap. He turned on a movie that was popular at the time. I reached my arm out to grab the popcorn from his lap, he purposely moved it so that my hand met his cock instead of the popcorn. He laughed and i pushed him harshly, it wasn't fucking funny.As time passed, the man seemed to move closer and closer. We were now touching shoulders. I was sleepy and tired and he noticed this. He wrapped his large arm around my figure. For some reason, I wasn't pissed off, I hate to admit it, but it felt quite comfortable. I leaned my head into his chest and placed my legs over his. He played with my hair. I could smell his expensive cologne. It was sexy. I began to drift to sleep when I felt Elvis pick me up and place me in bed. He wrapped me up in blankets so that I was cosy. He took his shirt and pants off only leaving his boxers. He climbed into the bed next to me and placed his arms on my hips. His touch sent chills down my spine, I was still fully dressed, but I was too tired to change. His hands rubbed along my waist. They travelled down to my bare thighs and lifted my dress up. His large hands travelled around my ass and hips. I turned around to face him. I looked into his eyes before he cuddled me. He felt so warm and calming. For some reason, I wasn't able to stay angry at the man, he was too intoxicating.

The next morning

I woke up in Elvis's arms. I felt cosy. He was awake, his hot breath hit my hair. I looked up at him.

"Goodmornin', doll." He said in his deep sexy morning voice. I smiled for the first time.

"Goodmornin', Elvis." I said as I traced my hand down his chest. He grabbed my hand and kissed it romantically. I felt the butterflies in my stomach. I couldn't resist. I leaned closer and placed my lips onto his. His lips were soft and begging to be kissed. I pulled away and laughed. So did he. Suddenly, i felt a sense of guilt rise in me. What about Mike? I have betrayed him. I felt disgusted in myself even though me and Mike weren't dating.

Me and Elvis got up at the same time. As we walked into the kitchen, I felt his hands on my hips. I walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a waffle from the packet. I placed it in the toaster. As I waited, i felt Elvis's body against mine. His hand traced up and down, and his breath was hot. I looked up at him and smiled. He was a good man. Once my waffle was done, I grabbed it and took a bite. I turned around to Elvis. I brought the waffle up to his pink lips. He bit into it. I smiled at him and played with his black hair.

"I really like you." He said as his hands were on my waist.

"I like you too." I said as a smile appeared on my face.

I watched Elvis walk into the living room. I followed him like a dog. He sat on the plush couch as he turned the television on. He looked to me and patted his thigh, indicating that he wanted me to sit. I walked over to him and sat on his lap. He wrapped his arms around me as I leaned into him. I was wrong about Elvis, he wasn't some superstar that fucked thousands of girls. He was a man. He was mature and just my type.

1 hour later

I was in the hotel bedroom, gathering my things as I needed to leave. Elvis was still in the living room, watching the television. I was almost ready, I had done my hair and put on the clothes that I had arrived in. I liked Elvis, but I had already spent too much time at his hotel room, I needed to sort out business. As I walked out of the door, I was met with Elvis, who was towering over me. I looked up into his sad puppy-dog eyes. He raised his hand to cup my cheek.

"Do ya have to leave. I really like your company." My heart shattered at his words. But I had a life of my own and a job.

"I know, Elvis, but I need to go. I have my job and..." I paused as Mike came to mind. I couldn't tell Elvis that I was thinking of Mike. His heart would crumble.

"Nothing." I continued.

"I just need to go, I'm sorry, Elvis." I quietly said as I walked past him. I felt his hands hold mine before I pulled away. I walked out of the gates of heaven.

1 day later

I had just finished another modelling show, and i was backstage with Mike. I was packing my things as I talked to him.

"Did you have fun at Elvis's last night?" He said in a slightly pissed off tone.

"Uhm, yeah, it was alright." It was one of the best nights I've had for a while.

"Well I missed ya." He said quietly. A smile brightened my face as I turned around to face him. I looked into his blue eyes.

"I missed you too." I said. He smiled as he lifted his hand to play with my hair. I felt my cheeks turn pink.

"Do I flatter you, my dear?" He said flirtatiously. My cheeks were now hot and red. I rolled my eyes sarcastically before replying.

"Well, I ain't gonna say no." I said as giggles escaped my pink lips. I had liked Mike for a while, and I think he felt the same way.

"You need a real man. Like me, not Elvis." I was slightly taken back by his sentence, but I didn't have time to reply as I felt his plump lips on mine. I didn't stop him. I was enjoying it. I trailed my hands down his chest as he grasped my ass. A slight moan escaped my lips as I felt his hands grip my ass once more. Just then, a girl walked in. I instantly pulled away, and so did he. I wasn't that embarrassed, but Mike definitely was. His face was bright red, and his breath was unsteady. I found it funny that such a big, strong man would be acting like this. I covered my mouth as I tried to hold my laughter in. The girl finally began to speak.

"Uhm, your car is waiting, ma'am." She said. I just simply smiled and nodded like nothing happened. I looked back to Mike, who was still in a state of shock.

"Come on, baby." I said in a flirtatious tone just to embarrass him even more. I loved it when I had the upper hand on men. I walked out of the room with Mike trailing behind me like a lost puppy. He was so cute. I got into the car with Mike next to me. The car started, and we were off. I traced my hand along Mike's muscles. He stroked his hand on the inside of my thigh, slightly pulling my dress up. His hand got closer and closer to my panties. He looked at me with sexieness in his eyes. He bent over to whisper in my ear.

"I can show you a real good time, I can make you scream my name." He whispered in a raspy tone. I felt butterflies in my stomach, and chills ran down my spine. His words and touch aroused me. I smiled before moving to sit in his lap. I shuffled around to get comfortable, and I felt Mike's hard push onto my ass. I looked at his face i knew that he was resisting the urge to not fuck me in a car with others in. I smiled before leaning over and placing wet kisses from his lips to his neck. I had him under a spell, a love spell. I straddled him like a seat and grinded into him like no one was around.

"What are you doing?! The driver will see us." He whispered-yelled into my ear.

"Well, I guess I'm going to have to give him a show as well." I said with an evil smirk. I carried on grinding like there was no tomorrow. I was feeling brave. I lifted my dress up so that it was resting above my bare boobs wich were shoved in Mike's face. I quickly pulled it back down as I tried to hold my giggle in.

"You're crazy." He said as he laughed.

"You only live once." I said confidently before continuing,

"Besides, I have a nice pair of boobs." I said as I laughed.

The driver pulled up into my house driveway. I got off Mike and planted a kiss on his wet lips.

"I'll give ya the rest of the show when we are inside." I whispered flirtatiously. We both got out of the car and watched the car drive off into the distance. Once it was out of sight, we rushed inside and up to my bedroom. He stripped me off aggressively and pushed me onto the bed. He was on top of my bare body. I opened his shirt and reached down to unbuckle his belt. I needed him so badly. I was thirsty, hungry for the man. Once his lower half was completely exposed, he rapidly pushed himself inside of me. He was good at this. Loud moans escaped my mouth as heavy breaths escaped his. His pace quickened, and so did my breaths. Soon, he pulled out and splashed his babies all over my stomach. I smiled proudly as the last moans flooded out of my red lips.

The next morning

I woke up naked along with Mike, who was also naked. I smiled at his beautiful sleeping face. He was a pretty sleeper. I quietly got up. As my legs were firmly on the floor I felt a terrible ache rush through them.

"For fuck sake." I said to myself. All of that riding didn't come without consequences. I walked over to my vanity and grabbed the pink silk robe that was hung over my chair. I wrapped it around my bare body and headed downstairs. I walked into the kitchen, and I began to make a waffle. As the waffle sprang up from the toaster, I heard a nock on my front door. I put my waffle on the counter and walked over to the door. I opened it to the last person I was expecting to see. I looked up to see Elvis with a bouquet of perfect pink and red roses. My heart shattered as I remembered that just last night, I had made love to my security guard. He smiled before speaking.

"Good morning! I got your address from one of your friends, I hope you don't mind. But I got you a gift just for you, my pretty girl. " he said cheerfully as he held out the gorgeous flowers in front of my face. I took them into my hands as I forced a smile onto my face. Just then, I heard footsteps travel down the stairs. A voice followed.

"Oh baby, last night was amazing." Mike said in his deep morning voice. Once he was downstairs, he woke up properly to see me with Elvis at the door. I turned to Elvis, who was both furious and disheartened.

"Elvis i-i can expla-"

"I should have known that you were just a whore who wanted my money. How could you. You said you liked me." His eyes were watery, and his hands were shaky. I would've argued back, but he was right. I did tell him I liked him and I also kissed him just to come home and fuck my security guard. I didn't say a word as I realised what was going to happen. I heard Mike's voice raise and Elvis's voice raise. They were yelling at me and at themselves. They argued back and forth until Elvis stepped forward and gave Mike a heavy blow to the face. I looked up with wide eyes to see Mike with a bloody nose on the floor. Elvis ran towards his powerless body on the floor. I liked both of them, but I didn't want to see any of them get hurt. I jumped in front of Mike's body. This was a bad decision. Elvis's fist landed on my face instead of Mike's. Elvis's eyes widened in shock. His face slowly turned into an angry expression.

"L-look what ya made me do!" He yelled as he quickly walked out of the door. Me and Mike were both on the floor, injured and hurt. I knew once Mike recovered, he would walk out of the door that Elvis had just walked out of. It was just a matter of time

[gentrychild]

Hey! So can I please ask you a question what do you think about Afo's plan to crash the world economy and be the ultimate source of every natural resource? Even though he said that there's more to this plan,it still seems awfully ludicrous, for the first part crashing the world economy is not easy even if Afo's minions are attacking all over the world it still won't be enough,more importantly Aayoma himself mentioned how even when their society was completely in shambles his lawyers were still on the job same goes for the media outlets, take the COVID situation for example the world was in technically on a pause for months, and there were obvious hiccups but the economy as a whole didn't crash and Afo can't possibly plan to constantly attack people until be achieves that cause then there would be literally nothing left for him to be the demon king off , secondly his plan to be the ultimate source is just so what can I say more stupid than what a five year old would come up with for world domination? quirk exhaustion is a cannon and established term for a reason,so there could be two conclusions either Afo is completely bullshitting about his so called ultimate goal or i am giving all of it a little too much thought, cause all the jokes aside if Afo truly plans to do this in all his manipulating,'i always think twelve steps ahead ' glory that man should have died two centuries ago! Anywho's I apologise for the ramblings,thank you for being yourself (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)

AFO's ultimate plan to crash the world economy and to become the ultimate source of natural resources is the dumbest thing someone could come with if they want to be an evil overlord or even a reasonably well off tyrant.

He can crash the economy all he wants but when left with nothing, odds that people are going to use their quirks like crazy in order to survive. He isn't the only one with water quirks, electricity quirks, and so on. People will evolve and will adapt and will get on without his help because, between depending on neighbors and people who aren't megalomaniacs and the guy who unironically calls themselves a demon lord, people are going to pick the former.

And if you had told me about a story when one people is in charge of being the resource for the WHOLE WORLD, I would have called that a fate worse than death. If he had said that his plan was limited to one city, I would have said "Why not but he is going to need naps." but a whole country, let alone the world, is stretching it, unless said country is the Vatican.

What makes more sense is if he is planning to use the noumu in order to make them produce all those resources (especially as he can clone quirks with Garaki's help) but even then, they guy simply doesn't have the numbers. If Garaki immediately get back to work and start churning noumus, maybe he can do that with Japan but the whole world? I don't think so.

Unless he plans to seriously decrease the world population but 1. so much energy expanded for no gains 2. That's a sure way to have the entire world foaming at the mouth and beat you to death. No one is stronger than a really pissed off mob.

And it's especially dumb as All for One is someone who lived through the Dawn of Quirks. He should know that society going into chaos isn't enough to completely crumble an economy. The world changes and adapts.

So either he is definitely past his living permit as old age took one hell of a price on his brain or this is what he told the rich people who are scared to live without access to all of their luxuries.

[wifiwuxians]

I've been wondering who shio is since I saw u mention him first but kept forgetting ( the crowd is shocked ) so pls feel free 2 dump abt him bc I wanna knOW

OOH SHIO check out his little refsheet i was aiming for cartoony i promise his proportions are normal i just went spindly halfway through

shio yomotsu! last name shio, given name yomotsu! a pretty terrible name for a sweet boy, like you coulda just named him yomi! i've posted about him on my main but this ISN'T MY MAIN so i'll retell in a sparknotes edition >:3

growing up in japan under the fist of an abusive father, his world was flipped when his mother finally had enough and killed the man in self defense. smuggling both herself and her son out of the country in a crate, she settled down in china in a tiny apartment, working cleaning jobs and keeping yomotsu a secret. he grew up in that apartment, keeping quiet and still when his mother was gone, and still remaining rather quiet and still whenever she was home. despite her barebones knowledge of mandarin and her lack of time to teach him, as well as her poor health and their meagre funds, the two considered their living conditions to be an improvement, and were happy, as happy as they could reasonably be. so, of course, i had to ruin that by killing her off LOL,, her illness caught up with her and she wasn't able to treat it. yomotsu had to live with her corpse for a while as he sank into despair, and only once the water and the electricity stopped working did he snap out of his stupor.

running out into the streets to beg for help, he was unfortunately intercepted by some thuggish men, thrown into a car and driven to his new life, where he'd be beaten, tortured, starved and trained into becoming a ruthless and efficient killer (and jack of all trades). i need to reiterate he had no idea what was happening to him, or why; up until one day, a young boy came into his small room to tend to his wounds and give him some food. this boy also began to teach him mandarin properly, and with the kindness and gentleness he showed yomotsu, he had no problem then becoming this boy's bodyguard and personal assistant.

now he's just about devoted his heart and his life to this boy, xing zhi, who is not the heir to the mob yomotsu works under, but may as well be since he takes on all the burdens. yomotsu, or shio as he's more commonly addressed, is a hitman, bodyguard, errand boy, shadow... you name it, he does it. keeping quiet all those years in his tiny apartment have made it easy for him to simply stand and listen during meetings, absorbing all information. he's the picture of devotion... to xing zhi, who wants the mob to collapse.

when his personality is able to shine through, he's playful, bubbly, charming and seemingly unaffected by all the bad things he's done or have been done to him. his devotion isn't restricted to xing zhi, either, though he is his treasure; if you are kind to him, if you give him the time of day, he is devoted to you, too. it's the only way he can feel good. it's the only way he can feel right. running himself ragged for the hint of a smile.

i usually draw him banged up in some way because he gets into very close quarters sometimes, and people don't like being told their business. people also struggle when they die, sometimes. and also he's being hunted LOL

this is only scratching the surface of all that is shio and his story (he's the main character!!) but it is a good place to start? maybe??? fkjsgkjga THANKS FOR ASKING !!!!!! <33333

[willoftrees]

that bullshit with the minecraft server honestly just made me so much more anxious about gaming with people. like, it's honestly part of why i just DON'T.

every co op or multiplay game i join, everyone goes off and does their own thing. in MC, it's fine, that's chill, go make ur own base and eke out ur own niche in the world, it's awesome we can make stuff super far and then invite ppl to come see what we built and it's like having neighbors and stuffs, i find joy in that- most other games i join tho, even ones where i need helpppp, everyone just fucks off and leave me and i'm like "ok why did y'all want me to play again? cuz ur not playing WITH me now, we just happen to be playing the same thing......." but the way my friend's friend treated me in their server was completely unfair and just unfriendly. because of their inability to voice to my friend that they just wanted it to be the two of them, they decided to be a bully to me???? like, i didn't fucking invite myself. my friend asked if i wanted to join and then asked his friend to invite me. also his friend up and deleted the first world they were working on because they didn't like the spawn point and couldn't be bothered to explore far enough to get out of their current biome. the second world they started had no mobs and no hunger so they could get ahead quickly and then when they turned mobs on they had gathered so much they could easily reach the end. their friend acted like they thought they were some badass for having frost walker boots even tho they had to play fucking baby mode to get them. idk why but they also seemed pissed that i wandered off to explore and gather resources on my own accord, then they for some reason decided they should run all the way to me instead of me just going to them, to have me follow them all the way back to the base i already knew the location of - i think because they wanted to show off their boots to me, since there's no water near their base and there was plenty of water on the way to where i was - and then once there, as i was handing over some loot to them and my friend, that i had collected from the mine i was disassembling in the badlands i had found, they (the host, not my friend) sudden fucking lit me on fire -_- i then helped my friend clear a room, got bored and wanted to explore a lil more so i left their base, then my friend tells me the host wants me to go to the end with them. mind you.... i have like, no armor, and i been fucking sick and barely able to play lately. so i let them know i'm good, and that i would be hopping off since i was getting a headache and still was sick. i sign off and the next day when i sign in, i see i am removed from their server. :'D i message my friend and say i think his friend removed me from the server and am ttly confused about why, and he's like "sssssssss *inhale* yeahhhh they weren't really happy with you hopping on without telling anyone" and my wtf ensues, and he tried to tell me that it's common courtesy to let someone know when they are going to be on a server?

like, not only would i simply not have known because this is unfamiliar territory for me (i usually play solo, realms is ttly new to me), but that.... didn't sound right but also hypocritical, because he himself rarely lets me know when he would be on my household's server either. :| then he tells me they only wanted it to be him and them in their server

then he tells me they didn't really like me - and THAT

that's the one that really really got me. i never SPOKE to his friend aside from literally "HAIIIIIII" in text chat when i met them, and then an "ayyyyyy" the time i signed on and apparently pissed them off cuz i didn't inform anyone i would be getting on. when i met them they didn't even reply to me, and the second time they replied "no" and that was it. they said "no" to my "ayyyyyyyy" - to which i didn't reply because wtf even. plus i was in discord call with my friend so i moved along and thought nothing of it. i am pissed because i did just SOME work in their server, i would be fucking furious if i actually spent the time to build some neat stuff only to have it all taken from me like that. can't tell you how many times, how many different ways, that has happened to me in my life. from different games, to things i have made, to my literal life and living situations - had everything i did and worked for taken and reduced to starting all over all again. i think in the end, and ima just speculate here based on how they seem to wanted it to be just them and my friend, how they treated me, and how they would interact with said friend - that mayhaps they have a crush on him and they felt i was getting in the way. that's cute and all and i'm happy they like my friend so much - but i think their behavior is a slew of red flags tbh. a lil possessive, much? idk y'all, i gotta rationalize this somehow because the way they treated me was rly unfair and it needs to make sense somehow. :|

[ilgaksu]

for everyone who was lured into the concept of @difeisheng and i's detective l au on the grounds of the liang wan content, may i offer you the following a.k.a when your ex-roommate gatecrashes your apartment when you're getting dressed for your not-a-date with the local mob boss. featuring actual historical 1930s shanghai cabaret music.

“I am trying,” Hei Xiazi reminds Liang Wan, “To get ready.” 

But five years prior, they’d lived in a one-room apartment while searching for somewhere bigger and better, so when Liang Wan says, “I have seen it all before, Hei-ye,” it’s not really wrong. She even gestures to the scar slipping up above the neckline of his undershirt, once a wound she had sutured shut while he had still been pretending to her he didn’t know how to hurt, never mind whether this injury itself did, which is a -

It’s a low blow, but those are Liang Wan’s speciality sometimes. People look at her little heart-shaped face and the round and outraged shine of her eyes and they do not see the full and awful truth, which is that she is a force as unstoppable as an earthquake. You do not reason with earthquakes. You simply brace yourself for impact and hope the ceiling doesn’t cave in. 

However, Hei Xiazi still remembers her as a small and scared woman on a ship to Europe, with no family and no future and barely her own name, drifting with every mile at sea further and further away from everything she had ever known. 

(At the time, Hei Xiazi had assumed she was running from a man: so often, what’s worse for a woman than a man?  

The answer is: men, plural. Multiple of them. 

Fuck the Wang family. They never deserved her, for all she’s a fucking nightmare.) 

So, overall, when Hei Xiazi pushes her out of his bedroom and shuts the door in her face, he’s a lot more gentle about it than he could be. She tries to open it, but Hei Xiazi is already turning the lock in the door. 

“Fine,” Liang Wan calls through the now locked door, “Keep your chastity intact if you insist, Hei-ge. There’s so much of it left, after all.”

Hei Xiazi listens to her stomp through to his main room, and calls, “Don’t touch my gramophone,” through the door at her. He, almost immediately, then hears the sound of her changing the record on it anyway. He knows, without having to look, what she’ll have reached for. Right on cue, the opening strains of Unobtainable Love start winding their way to him under the door, much like a cat yowling - and all of the same incessant yearning, for all it sounds much more pleasant. 

He sighs. He changes his undershirt, which had been clean before Liang Wan had retaliated against him, and now is sticking to his skin. His slacks, miraculously, are either safe or dark enough to look safe, because he doesn’t have another pair as well-suited to tonight’s dress code. He finishes buttoning a clean shirt over it all and unlocks the door. 

In his main room, sitting daintily on one of the heavy wooden chairs at the matching table - all of it kept over from the previous occupant and at cheap rent because the poor bastard had dropped dead on the kitchen floor or something, and Hei Xiazi had nearly laughed when the landlady had worried he’d not want it for the bad luck - Liang Wan is helping herself to his leftover dinner. Hei Xiazi watches her inhale the last several dumplings in succession with a sense of resignation.

[truly-morgan]

[Photo album, memories]

MobRei | Mob Psycho 100 14-10-2022

Okay, I've had this #mobrei idea for a moment now:

What if, over the years Reigen has spent with Mob, he has collected pictures of them together or sometimes only Mob? In some kind of memento album, he keeps for himself?

I'll try to expand on that later when I have time

Like, maybe Mob's staying over, or helping clean his apartment or Reigen moving out and needs help.

Then Mob finds the album on the bookshelf

There are a lot of pictures, but not worryingly so, nor are they inappropriate. There are a lot of candid pictures though.

The oldest ones are from when Mob first joined the Spirits and Such Consultation Office.

He can recognise most of the pictures and he's looking in his memory for them, helped a lot by all the little annotation left by Reigen.

The more he turns, the more he gets pictures, all with their own personalised little notes by Reigen.

Most are milestones.

Their first big exorcising case.

Mob getting better with his powers.

Many after-work pictures as they successfully did their job.

When Reigen takes him to eat some ramen.

Surprisingly, many school events Reigen had been invited by Mob to come.

Some "Best Employee of the Month" pictures.

Picture from little thing they did for Mob's birthday.

But in between these clear events, some are simply pictures of Mob in a very everyday kind of things. Him at his desk going homework, sitting on the train on the way back from a job, looking at the setting sun.

Then there are some non-pictures.

Some carefully dried flowers he remembers giving to the older man, having never believed he'd so carefully keep them.

Tickets from places they went to, with longer text retelling how good Mob did that day.

Some reviews/nice comments from clients praising Mob for his work, which Reigen agrees with under it.

Mob goes through every picture of the album, every note carefully written by hand by his shisho, careful not to damage anything, seeing all the works that have been put into this.

He feels really loved and appreciated by Reigen when seeing this.

Maybe Reigen finally comes back and sees him with the album, looking surprised and awkward. Maybe he tries to find a reason for why he has an album *dedicated* to Mob when Reigen should just be a random older man in Mob's life.

But for sure, Mob doesn't let him try to slip his way out of this, because he knows there's more behind dedicating much attention to the album. It's not as scrapbooky as what his mother has done before, but it isn't just sticking pictures in either. There's work put into this.

After a moment of insisting he managed to get it out of Reigen:

He really appreciates Mob and likes him quite a lot, but he knows he's just Reigen and that Mob will one day realise there's better out there. That he shouldn't waste his time on a conman, that once Mob realised

Reigen is just that, a conman using him for his power, he'll leave him.

He started this to have a way to remember Mob and all the good times they had together while it lasted.

Mob isn't happy about the reason, his not-so-subtle crush on his shisho not wanting to leave him any time soon. Mad that Reigen looks down on himself so hard without even asking Mob about it, ever.

I was thinking of making a one-shot with this idea.

Just like the idea of Reigen having started this project just as a little silly thing about a kid he likes, then it turns into a memento album because he's just convinced that Mob will eventually leave him one day

this is either one-sided mobrei where Mob already loves Reigen and wills how him and makes him fall for him.

Or Reigen also has some hidden Feelings he refuses to acknowledge to not harm Mob.

Original

[fluffallamaful]

So, Pet Dream AU. How does the reveal go?

I actually really love the heartbreaking imagery of him automatically transforming back when he feels loved and safe, and how he has to stop himself from feeling either of those things if he wants to actually keep them. (;-; That’s so sad, what.) But it’s also worth mentioning that he IS stuck like this for a while regardless, so while he might transform back for a few minutes or so, being a little blob is kind of…not his choice rn. Which means he will be helpless if anyone decides to hurt him, and he knows it. (Also he really does need to stay in this form for a while as he recovers. He’s probably planning to transform back as soon as he feels like he’s able to not collapse instantly anymore, but that would also be something that would hurt him even more.)

I kind of like the idea of him shifting back in front of everyone, overwhelmed by how much they obviously care for him — only for them to stare at him in shock and the panic making him instantly revert back to being a blob, instead of only after the initial feeling gradually subsided. So now he’s a tiny helpless blob in front of a mob of people with every reason to punt him across the map.

Of course he books it, what else is he gonna do?

He doesn’t make it far, though. Not because he’s not a good hider, but because he’s simply not in good shape. He’s still pretty malnourished, as well as heavily injured, and he’s been sedentary in a closed box for a year. Not to mention that he’s devastated. He had everything he’d wanted for years, and he ruined it! He wants to scream, curse, kick himself — but mostly he just wants to cry.

Meanwhile, everyone is freaking the fuck out because what the hell was that? Probably a whole host of emotions is going on right then, for everyone. But…eventually they actually start to use their heads, and realize that — wait a minute, the little blob — Dream — wasn’t acting like they’d normally expect Dream to act. Dream had been helping them as a blob. He’d point out flaws in a paranoid Tommy’s base defenses for him to patch up. He’d nuzzle into Quackity’s cheeks whenever he stayed up at night crying about Charlie and also his lost loves, using his fur to dry his tears. He’d play fight with Michael, gently and happily keeping the toddler occupied as Tubbo and Ranboo watched with amusement from the sidelines. And sure, maybe some of that could have been manipulation — but all of it? It just wouldn’t make sense.

Maybe Punz spills the beans, or at least some of the beans. Maybe he tells them that Dream just wanted his family back, and that he had a plan for it. Maybe he dips a toe in the water to see how they react. Nobody knows what to think anymore, but they all decide that they should at least TRY to find him. Especially because it has started to rain.

Quackity’s the one to find him. Again, Dream hadn’t made it very far. He had ended up hiding under some bushes, wet and shivering and obviously very distressed. And sure, Quackity doesn’t like Dream. Quackity made it his goal to torture Dream to the point where the man would rather commit suicide than live another day. But Quackity loved that little blob, and the image of that little white blob soaked with rain and crying in little distressed chirps — he just can’t stand it. So he talks in that little soft voice he’d reserved specifically for the little blob, and he successfully coaxes him out of his hiding spot, and he finally manages to pick him up and cradle him in his arms before sending a note to everyone that he found Dream, and that they’ll be at the community house.

i’m going to burst into actual tears like the plot twists and the ducking rain and omg your story telling skills are incredible and i am as distressed as a tiny wet weakened blob rn omfgggf /pos

(discussions wnsjcjxjwhwb)

🦙🦙🦙…

HIM TRANSFORMINF AND THEN STRAIGHT AWAY TRANSFORMING baCK is perfect 😭😭 that’s so sad because he’d be so mad and upset that he had ruined everything but also so incredibly scared :(( and once again he runs but by his luck it starts rAINing 😖

perhaps the first reactions from everyone is to actually run after him, but it’s punz that holds them back — purely to ensure that they’re not running to harm him. he explains dream’s situations and the reasoning behind his blob transformations,, and takes a lot of the blow of peoples anger and confusion (let’s them all yell at him purely so they don’t yell at him)

meanwhile quackity’s the one that branches off, wandering off in the rain to search for the little white blob that he has grown so attached to. it is virtually impossible to imagine sharing the same vulnerability with dream that he had shared with this little blob. but if the human dream that he had despised for so long truly had a softer, genuine side to him,, then quackity felt that it was worth it to truly find out and understand. and more than that, he feels that dream is worthy of help

he finds dream in a bush, not far away from where he had started running at all (cries 😭) and takes a seat next to the bush to monologue to him lmao. but like explaining how much dream has helped him, and asking him why dream did it? was it manipulative? did you actually want to help? was he being used? he’s still soaking wet in the rain, his beanie has just about soaked through and he can barely see through the raindrops on his eyelashes

eventually dreams shivering blob figure manages to drag itself out from the bush,, . hesitantly. his head is dropped in shame, and he is saturated. he looks up at quackity with the saddest most heartbreaking expression quackity has ever seen, and produces a whimpered chirp that quackity absolutely recognises as an apology. he looks pathetic, and quackity has no choice but to scoop him up. he simply cannot stand the sight of the blob that had created so much joy for him, being so broken and scared. he tucks him into his dress shirt — wincing at the feeling of his cold, wet body against his skin — and carries him back to the community house

he dries dream off and feeds him soup fzgshbvkxks. he speaks to him and unloads all his feelings. he laughs when dream tries to consume his complimentary bread roll whole. they light a campfire on the community roof once the rain stops. quackity holds dream up in his palm so that he can appreciate the view of the server better. quackity can’t stop asking if this is truly what dream wants, to get along like this, no tricks or strategy. dream makes it clear that he does. he proves his point by leaping up to nuzzle into quackity’s neck. quackity giggles and calls him a little fuck,, and then catches him and wiggles his own finger around dreams neck.

they stay up on the rooftop all night, knowing that by morning the rest of the server would find quackitys note and would be on their way to confront dream. quackity has already made up his mind though :’)

🦙🦙🦙…

[god1ngs]

Hey, very excited to see your HCs requests open :D

Could I request HCs about c!Techno with a child reader that he just found in the nether alone? They are human, but they somehow can talk and communicate with agressive mobs from the nether and tame them, and they know a lot about the place

Or it can just be a normal child reader, whatever you prefers :]

Love your writing ❤️❤️

╭៹ꜜ # c!techno with a child!reader ༉

c!technoblade x child!gn!reader (platonic)

◟ᝰ notes・hello! thank you for the request <3 was happy to write this :]

techno was traveling in the nether one day, either collecting gold or getting more quartz for whatever reason— when he came upon a kid.

a kid? that couldn't be right. the only 'kids' in the nether are the piglin kids.

however, it was clear that in front of him was, in fact, a child— one that was looking at him rather strangely.

"uhhh... do you got parents around here or somethin'?"

"no?"

even if you were an orphan, techno couldn't just leave a kid alone in the nether. he may be a ruthless warrior, but he's not heartless.

so you travel with him through the nether, somehow talking to all the mobs along the way.

he swears you're just like that ranboo kid with the main character energy.

he gets lost at one point, not knowing which way to turn, and you easily help him out with it.

"let's see, where am i supposed to go..."

"to the right of here is a nether portal."

he's weirded out astonished that you know there's a nether portal near by.

after you guys get to the overworld, he lets you live with him and everything seems to go along fine.

you meet phil first— a trusted friend of techno's, who tells you that there's nothing to worry about. he's very friendly to you, even if he is surprised that techno took in a kid.

then you meet ranboo. you and him get along— you like playing with his horns and he's intrigued with how much you know about the nether.

now, as for time with techno: you don't really get much. not typical time, at least. with the winter coming, techno begins hibernating more and getting more drowsier. this usually leads you to end up with phil and his newly revived son, wilbur (not that you mind, you just have an... off vibe about wilbur).

whenever techno is awake and willing to do stuff with you though, it's moments that you cherish.

one of the first things he teaches you how to do is defend yourself. being associated with him, especially as a kid, leads you to be in danger due to all the enemies he has.

the snow is a big change for you though, so he goes easy on you during your sparring matches (totally not because he has a soft spot for you. totally). he usually drapes his cape around you when you're cold too.

sometimes he lets you play with his hair. he'll let you brush it or braid it or simply mess with it, as long as you don't knot his hair up too had. he'll usually lay there in a peaceful silence, occasionally commenting about how you're gonna make him go bald.

in conclusion: techno is a huge softie for you, even if he won't admit it. he never saw himself adopting a kid (an orphan, especially), but he doesn't mind all too much.

◟ᝰ TAGLIST・MASTERLIST

@anarchiststories

[melis-writes]

(1/2) Can you do a moth to a flame AU where victoria came into michael’s life too late, after he’d already married kay, and is the “other woman?” something angsty with a lot of sexual tension please, like maybe vic’s conflicted feelings while hooking up with him of “i hope you pretend she’s me and not the other way around” / “i know you f*ck me, michael, but god sometimes i just want you to hold my hand when the lights are on” / “i know im not her but im someone to you…”

This is actually one of my new/upcoming multi-chapter fics I’ll be writing in the near future!! Don’t know as of now if I want it to definitely be like an AU with the Victoria we love and know or with a new lady altogether but I’ll let my readers decide that when the time comes! Keeping it a bit short and sweet not to spoil too much, hehe.

‘I’m the ‘other woman’ in Michael Corleone’s life. I’ve always been and I always will be. I can’t see a real, tangible future with Michael, but I can see myself at his side as his mistress for as long as he’ll want me. I know I’ll always want him more than he can know, and Michael will never just be ‘someone else’ to me, but I can’t change my fate. I’d rather have him than not have him at all…’

The secrecy needed to veil your sexual relationship with Michael Corleone may have been ten times easier if you were someone else instead of the daughter of a Don.

There’d be less of a scandal if it somehow leaked out that Michael Corleone, ruthless mob boss and multi-millionaire businessman had a mistress just as almost every other man in the same or similar position as him did, but if it leaked that Don Ferrari’s daughter was seeing him…you didn’t want to think of what could possibly happen next.

When you let your mind wander to the possible consequences, it’d constantly bring you to tears, but it wasn’t the fact that your reputation would be ruined, your family would be ashamed of you, Michael’s wife and children would find out, and that the media would swarm all over you and Michael for weeks to come, but that you’d never see Michael again. That would be the great punishment of them all.

‘As Michael Corleone’s mistress, the one thing I’ve learned to do well—better than anything I can ever do—is keep everything private, secret, act like nothing’s going on, never be seen, and never put myself in a situation where my identity can be jeopardized.’ Such is the life of most mistresses when it comes to powerful men in the underworld, but with Michael handling how and when he sees you 100% of the time, you have little to worry about in that regard in reality.

Michael knows your family well, sees your father from time to time in New York on business trips which provides him more of an excuse and an easier method of seeing you as well.

Michael’s acquainted with your brothers and does business with them just as he does with your father who is a long time friend of Vito’s since the two men grew up together in Sicily.

Unfortunately time and chance have never been on your side. You met Michael when he was engaged to his college sweetheart, an American woman named Kay Adams who you saw in a few photographs but never in person.

You could tell Michael loved Kay and cared for her very much, even though he didn’t speak of her very often. Michael made it clear he was interested in no other woman—Sicilian or otherwise—and that it would be Kay Adams he would continue his future with inevitably.

‘There was no changing his mind… Nobody could do it.’ You would never dream of being a homewrecker either, but all you could do was miserably watch as the man you were falling more and more in love with was loving another woman right before your eyes.

The only reason you spoke with Michael and saw him for prolonged periods of time was because of your career; as a criminal prosecutor, you were very helpful and useful to Michael when it came to prosecuting his enemies and having them charged no matter how corrupt or bought off the court was.

Simply putting the judges in New York and Nevada in Michael’s payroll wasn’t enough. He would need a lawyer in between, and you matched his needs perfectly.

First it would become a solely professional relationship based on business and legal matters, but knowing one another’s family meant also seeing each other outside of the office or law courts which helped you and Michael get more acquainted with one another on a personal scale.

You didn’t know that it would lead to matching Michael’s needs in a different way, but you would have gladly said “yes” if someone asked you about the possibility of that way back then too.

That was just the thing. You had always been in love with Michael—absolutely head over heels with that man up to the point where your love, adoration and infatuation with him could suffocate you because you had to keep it to yourself and could tell nobody.

Your family had nothing but love, praise and respect for Michael—let alone the Corleone family in general.

Teases and whispers of “if only Victoria married Michael” or “if Victoria had a husband like Michael” were said once word got out that Michael was engaged to somebody, but all of it came down to silence when the wedding invitations were handed out.

You believed in love at first sight, Michael did not. Michael believed in sexual attraction at first sight, and that’s what he thought of when he saw you, but just how he would approach you, what he would want and do didn’t come until after he married Kay.

Naturally, you attended even though you felt there was a hole torn in your heart. What you didn’t know was that Michael had his eye on you from time to time during his wedding and when he left for his honeymoon to Rome with Kay, you hadn’t seen him again for another month.

You thought you kept it inside well and didn’t show a sliver of romantic emotion towards Michael, but Michael could tell from the way your body language responded to his presence alone and the look in your eyes that you were in love with that man and would do just about anything for him and with him.

You wanted Michael in every romantic way possible, daydreamed of being his wife, imagined spending as much time with him as you wanted just to hear his velvety voice, feel the touch of his hand against your cheek like you had been dreaming night after night.

Michael’s absence during his honeymoon and after when he had returned to Long Island and settled in his first home with Kay only made your heart yearn for him more.

Your feelings always intensified and doubled no matter how much time had passed or whatever happened, and your eyes saw the world in black and white with only Michael in colour.

When you heard the news Kay was pregnant with Michael’s first child, you were devastated.

This had only been revealed a week after they returned from their honeymoon and although you knew Michael was sexually involved with his wife, your heart was broken because you wished you could be the one to bear his children and start a family with him instead.

But little did you know throughout your heartache that it was with the birth of Michael’s first child and son Anthony that would change your life forever.

After a month of absence, Michael had continued to see you again for business matters.

He no longer just made appointments to see you at the courthouse but came in whenever he pleased. He wrote to you, he called you both at home and at your office more like he was a friend than anything else.

You couldn’t have even known then that Michael had his own desire and yearning for you either because you could never tell how Michael felt through any means. You could not hide your emotions from Michael, but he could hide them very well from you.

In a way, Michael had made it clear to you how he felt, how he wanted you and how he would show his desire and passion for you accidentally the same year Anthony was born in—1951.

Michael came to the courthouse to see you regarding a legal matter—strictly business purposes, however he did not call ahead or even notify your secretary.

It was past office hours for you but the courthouse remained open until the evening for other legal affairs with lawyers seeing clients and judges continuing to file paperwork just like any other day.

Your secretary had went home, leaving you alone in your office and exhausted after a very long trial that had finally concluded in your favour.

Your office door was shut and you only had a dim desk lamp on to illuminate the spacious room when you had just thrown off your blazer and unbuttoned your dress shirt to finally change out of your work clothes before heading out for the day.

Michael walked straight into the courthouse and towards your office knowing that he could still catch you available at this hour, but he didn’t expect to walk into your office and see you half naked.

Without even knocking, Michael put his hand over the doorknob and you only had a split second to react to the sound of someone opening the door.

The door to your office opened and Michael had almost fully stepped in with the utmost confidence he would find you inside only to gaze upon you stumbled back into the corner of your office in a pair of panties and nothing else.

“Oh!” You gasped out, but your hands froze and all they could do was clutch onto your dress shirt loosely.

Neither your mind nor your body wanted to cover yourself up in front of Michael even though the look on your face spelled shock.

Michael didn’t blink back, turn his head away or step right out and close the door. Instead, Michael stood and stared at you in a way that confirmed his arousal and sexual attraction to you.

Your expression softened as the two of you stared at each other in silence for a few moments right up until Michael closed and locked your office door behind him without taking his gaze off of you.

For the first time in years, you saw Michael’s expression clearly reading out that he liked what he was seeing and it was that coupled with the immense sexual frustration and excitement bursting through you that you wanted to approach him naked and let him keep looking.

The silence between the two of you said more than any words you had exchanged with Michael since you met.

When Michael continued to take steps towards you, you not only felt more aroused but increasingly drawn to him and could only ask yourself repeatedly in your head if you were dreaming.

“Mr. Corleone, I didn’t—” You began, about to almost apologize for being seen in this state in your office but you hadn’t expected him to visit now and at this hour without prior notice.

“Michael,” he corrected you to use his first name and it was the first time in a few days since you’d heard his voice again—now low and husky to keep quiet.

“Michael,” you swallowed hard, finding your grip growing looser over your dress shirt until it fell out of your hand and onto the pile of clothes pooling by your feet. “I…”

Michael was now directly facing you, only a few inches away from your lips with his eyes darting up and down your body like art, letting his own arousal take control of him. “Come here.”

You obeyed him instantly. You took a final step towards Michael and completely closed off the space between the two of you.

Your nipples had hardened from arousal and was just a mere distance from brushing up against Michael’s chest which is exactly what you did when Michael began to take off his suit jacket.

You didn’t question why Michael had come or why he was doing any of this because you wanted it. You craved him, desired him, fantasized about similar scenarios like this for hours on end—how could you stop and question the morals you knew you lost when you moaned against your pillow and fingered yourself imagining it was Michael weekly all those years ago?

“Can I touch you?” Michael asked—his voice soft and breathy as he loosened his tie.

“Please,” you almost begged but you couldn’t take the sexual frustration gnawing inside of you anymore.

When Michael placed his hands over your breasts and gave them a squeeze while looking you in the eye, that was it for you. You gave in completely to him and didn’t hold back on showing Michael how good he made you feel either.

In that moment alone, his hands were all over your body and you had wrapped your arms around him for the first time thinking it would be the last time the two of you would ever do anything like this.

Michael had thrown off his belt, inched down his dress trousers and briefs and before you knew it, you let him pull your panties to the side, and wrapped your thighs around his waist.

Michael pinned you against your office wall next to the bookshelf and despite his erect cock throbbing and twitching to be inside of you, he didn’t penetrate you just yet.

Although even doing this, then stopping and leaving would be more than a dream come true to you, the only thing that had disappointed and embarrassed you was that Michael didn’t lean in closer to kiss your lips when you thought he would.

Instead, Michael kissed up and down your neck while he let his thumbs toy with your nipples. His kisses grew more demanding and wet around your jawline and collarbones but Michael absolutely refused to kiss your lips.

You became distracted almost instantly with the teasing and foreplay, and once Michael had you squirming against his body when his forefingers rubbed against your wet clit, it was then that he knew you were turned on and ready for him.

You locked eyes with Michael when he penetrated you for the first time. Shaky, loud moans escaped your lips feeling every inch of his thick, hard cock continue to go deeper inside of you.

Even up against the cold wall, Michael gave you the best sex of your life and never stopped continuing to stimulate your clit and nipples while he fucked you.

Michael wasn’t very tender but not rough either; instead, Michael and you were fucking the pent up frustration out of each other for the first time, still testing the waters.

You thought to yourself when you came over Michael’s cock for the first time that Michael surely must know he could possibly get you pregnant now but when you looked down to see how his cock was slicking in and out of your pussy, you also knew he must not have cared.

Michael didn’t cum in you, however, but pulled out and left his hot, sticky seed spew over your stomach and breasts.

Perhaps the silence that followed both of your orgasms marking the end of the sexual encounter was much worse than the first when Michael walked in on you naked.

As vivid as the memory is to you, you could only remember Michael breathing against your neck and saying, “I want to see you again and again”. You knew what that meant just as anyone else would.

‘He wanted me to be his mistress and how could I ever say no? There wasn’t a fibre of my being that wanted to say no and I wouldn’t have said no if he asked me before he had sex with me either…’

Without conducting business like he originally planned to that day, Michael left after the two of you dressed and he told you to expect a phone call “soon”.

Anxiety and overthinking were your best friend from the moment Michael finished saying the word “soon” and didn’t end until you got a phone call to your office three days later at work.

Michael laid the ground rules then for what he wanted, how he wanted, and when he wanted you.

“I’ll be the one making the rules and deciding where we go from here—understood?”

Michael made it clear to you that he was first a father to Anthony and a husband to Kay. This would never change. Not for you, not for anyone.

“Kay just gave birth to our first child, Anthony. I’m a father now, as you know and that affects what I do and where I can go. Time spent with my son and my wife comes first. This will not change.”

Michael would be the one who would plan to see you and you’d known forty-eight hours in advance whether it was at your office, at one of his penthouses in New York, a hotel or a resort. Michael would get you accommodation to get there secretly with a fake name and seen by nobody to the best of his ability.

“I’ll get you to where you need to be but you won’t see me until you arrive at our meeting spot. No eyes will follow you and nobody else will know where you’re going for how long and with who. Nobody will see us together side by side, even if they’re strangers.”

The only thing Michael told you next that made you cry after you hung up was that this was solely sexual. Michael had no romantic feelings for you and he wasn’t planning on ever fostering such either.

“I’m in love with my wife, Victoria. I love Kay very much and she’s the only woman I can love and be with. What you and I have will only be sexual. It can never get romantic and it won’t, so don’t expect anything further than what we agreed to…”

Maybe Michael would never see you in a romantic light but you would and always had. You’d still be madly in love with him no matter what and you were also convinced you did love Michael more than Kay ever could.

There was also no timeframe to how long this sexual relationship would last, but Michael made your heart skip a beat when he clarified why he wanted you that had little to do with your first surprise encounter at your office.

“When I say what we have is over, then it ends immediately. I’m not limiting myself to a timeframe… I want to have you until I possibly can’t anymore, and I presume you’re thinking the same. Victoria… I love Kay but she isn’t you and she can’t be. I want nothing from her in bed but to bear my children. I pleasure her but I don’t gain much pleasure for myself. I have no fire and excitement in my sex life with her, but I do for you—that’s why I want you.”

Even when Kay became pregnant again with her and Michael’s second child and Michael made the move to Nevada, he had you relocate with him and secured you the same position at the Reno courthouse.

Michael bought an estate for you under his name. He brought in your vehicle from New York and because a talent like yours did not excuse within law and the crime families, there was zero suspicion from either Michael or your family as to why you relocated.

Everyone saw it as strictly business with plenty of opportunity and prosperity for both the Corleone and Ferrari families alike.

Only when you made the move to Reno did you meet Kay and Anthony, and although Michael’s wife was sweet and welcoming to you and utterly clueless her husband was fucking the life out of you three to five times a week, you still didn’t regret what you were doing nor did you pity Kay.

“I hope you pretend Kay’s me and not the other way around.” You whispered as Michael hovered over top of your naked body.

“I do,” Michael murmured against your skin and kissed between your breasts. “I think of fucking you whenever I bed her…”

You could say “if only she knew” to yourself through laughter, not on a serious note because you disregarded Kay’s marriage with Michael entirely.

You weren’t even aware of it, but the fire and heated intimacy Michael brought to his and your sex life gave you confidence like that.

The only conflict you felt in you conscience and heart was that you could not have Michael in the romantic and family sense that Kay did, which would slowly began to eat you alive as the years went on.

In the very beginning when you first felt your heart aching and beating for Michael only, you knew the only remedy to this kind of forbidden, one-sided love would be to stay far away from Michael and forget him.

You’d have to stop seeing him, speaking with him, and even corresponding with his family. You’d have no idea how to go about this or explain it to your family, but it would most definitely come at the cost of many excuses and lies to anyone who’d ask.

Instead, you didn’t. You let yourself get closer to him even though you knew it would amount to nothing, just like a moth to a flame.

Five years of being his mistress did not pass without a toll and many tears of course, and you no longer held back how you felt about Michael—still having not been able to kiss him once

“I only want you,” you hiccupped throughout your tears, “I can’t love another man but you.”

Michael stared at you coldly, shook his head and gave out a little sigh.

He believed it would have been impossible for you to fall in love with him and want more when he had explicitly told you none of it could ever happen, so all Michael could do was disregard your feelings, have sex with you, disregard your feelings again.

Michael may have taken you all around the country, fucked you in the most luxurious hotels, resorts and private yachts treating you like a princess and pampering you without affection and romantic love, it was never truly enough for how you really felt and wanted Michael.

“I know we fuck, Michael, but God… Sometimes I just wish you’d hold my hand when the lights are on. When we’re not in bed.” You had no idea how you managed to tell Michael this without breaking down into tears.

“We talked about this, Victoria.” Michael had told you when he was redressing as you lay naked in bed, holding the bedsheets up to your chest. “There are things I won’t do to you that are only reserved for my wife. That won’t change and I won’t speak of this matter again because I don’t want to hurt you.”

In five years time, Michael never once kissed your lips and the only time he held your hand was when Michael laced both with yours against the bed when he was fucking you—never romantically.

You would never feel or taste real affection from him—that was reserved solely for Kay and although you knew Michael had rough, wild, kinky and intensely amazing sex with you and not Kay, it still tore you to shreds knowing you couldn’t have it all.

“I know.” You swallowed down the lump in your throat, sitting up in bed as Michael faced you almost full dressed. “I’m not Kay… I know that But I’m someone to you, aren’t I?”

“Of course.” Michael answered you. “You’re my mistress. You’re the other woman.”

[samthecookielord]

Alegreya: fun fact, her initial reason for wanting to take alice with her was because she saw a doctor and was like "sweet. free healthcare" and made an empty promise to defeat the necromancer so alice would join her. Over time though, she started to actually care about alice as a person, and appreciate the fact that alice was looking out for her at all

If Alegreya were to become a recruitable companion, I think you would have to pay her meat first lol. and maybe at first a bunch of her level up events are paying her more meat in exchange for improving her stats, until eventually you dont have to pay her meat anymore because you've grown close enough <3 and she even starts getting back meat for you

Carimus: He wanted to travel alone, especially since he had done Boring Springs last out of the three protags in 2b1ew, so half of his options were already on the road lol. Gary happened to be not killed by the others, so he kinda just started following Carimus around. Idk, maybe he smelled funny lol. And carimus just couldnt get Gary to leave him alone, so Carimus just begrudgingly let Gary tag along. Plus, Carimus was already fluent in goblintongue before Boring Springs so thats a bonus.

He would be so hard to make your companion. You would have to encounter him several times in wander events until finally you get a stat check where you ask him to tag along with you (AKA pov youre gary sfdjhkfhsdjkskfjdhkdsf) I think he'd also be one of the only pardners that follows you into el vibrato rooms and comments on them. he levels up when you defeat el vibrato drones

Maggie & MBC: bunching these two together since they both share a companion (Obie obie obie obie obie). The main reason why they started traveling with obie is mainly because maggie and obie instrument buddies what more can i say. And also the whole thing of obie helping maggie figure out instruments in the first place since flo didn't have any experience beforehand lol. and then when mbc starts getting hashtag evil, obie stays despite his hobo instincts telling him to book it because he doesnt wanna leave maggie to deal with this alone. also technically mbc gets an additional companion (molly) for when she splits up to do mainly mob stuff but i havent really thought much about that

theyre probably really easy to get to be your companions, just be friendly to them lol. theyre a two for one btw <3 mbc is the one that actually does stuff in fights.

Bonus bonus: I DO HAVE A !!!! OC THAT IS INTENDED TO BE COMPANION its jimmy <3 they are so so so nice and friend shaped. you probably find him in like gray county or something. hes just in the middle of nowhere mopping the floor lol. or maybe you specifically find him at the uhhh hellstrom factory place? i think thatd be funky. you could either beat him up and miss out on jimmy companion or you could pass a low mysticality check to realize theyre not actually here to hinder you in any way lol.

it would go similarly to this post but not exactly because i just set that post in like a hypothetical void with no setting in mind. fun fact i actually made that post into a thing you can play but theres like a high chance the site wont even load lol and also its one of those wips you just never get around to finishing

his main weapon is a shadow mop which deals spooky damage AND is effective against shadow creatures. main attack is just smack opponent with mop lol and other action is to leave a puddle in front of a party member, which causes an enemy to slip and take damage before they do their attack on that party member

anyways vignette 1 would be at government valley actually, where jimmy puts in his 1 second notice of resignation and escapes narrowly, which boosts his speed. and then second vignette is at sit where they get the janitor job they actually wanted! this unlocks a third action which is uhhhh idk probably something cool

jimmys ending would be he simply explodes the shadowcaster because hes so cool and awesome /j

WEEK 4 QUESTIONS - COMPANIONS

Hey guys it's another week and things have been a little crazy maybe lol... Here we go for this week's question though! Companion centered!

Why do your characters travel with their companions? If not limited to the game events, how would their first meetings have gone?

As a bonus question, what events would need to happen if your character were a recruitable companion?

Bonus bonus: Do you have any OCs that could be companions? Tell us about them!

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hey!! I love your writing. Can you do a Yandere! Ranboo, Tommy , and tubbo. where they are all in love with the reader and they kidnapped her to ‘keep her safe’ and the reader doesn’t know at first, then she slow realized they are obsessed with her. she like them back but she also want to live her life, so she tries to make agreement? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

The Ranboo gif is just beautiful and I love it. Lemme see what I can do for ya! I wrote a bullet point Platonic fic if that's fine? I'm still worried about writing the minors in romantic relationships, even if it's the characters.

Sorry, it took so long... My burnout got really bad and I refused to even write basic stuff. But I'm back now! Well. Mostly.

Safe Behind Glass (Yandere!Plat!C!Bench Trio x GN!Reader)

You were a little groggier than normal when you awoke, but it was nothing to alarm you immediately.

Just simply brushing it off as you weren't feeling the best that day, you rolled over to fall back to sleep, but quickly noticed something wrong.

It didn't feel... Right?

The blankets... The mattress... The pillow... They weren't yours...

You peeled your eyes open and your expression went blank with fear.

The room was beautiful mind you.

But it wasn't yours either.

You were laying on a fluffy (f/c) canopy bed, surrounded by quartz walls that were dimly lit soul lanterns that prevented you from being completely swallowed by darkness.

Slowly dragging yourself off the bed, you heard a metal 'clunk' that hit the cold quartz flooring below you.

Turning your head to face downwards, you saw that a decently thick metal chain was cuffed to your ankle.

Somehow, your panic became worse as you immediately grabbed onto it and started to yank on the solid metal, but it refused to budge.

You had no idea how many minutes or hours you spent in that room. Reaching at the iron door desperately, yanking at the chain around your ankle that kept you from reaching the exit, searching the blue lanterns for anything...

But then, the white metallic door slowly swung open, revealing Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy.

You weren't that close to them, save for a couple interactions here and there, but hey, they came to save you! That didn't matter in the slightest!

You almost cried upon seeing them and moved to walk over, but the chain stopped you from reaching them, and you noticed that they weren't moving to help you.

"You're awake!" Tubbo chirped softly, his tan goat ears wiggling with joy, "I'm glad the potion didn't stick for too long... You could've wound up starving if you stayed asleep."

Horror slowly began to set into your heart as Ranboo nodded and walked over to the dark oak table in the corner of the room and set down a basket of food.

"Ran...Boo...?" You whispered, watching as the monochrome male turned and curiously tilted his head in your direction, "Why... Am I here?"

Instead, Tommy stepped in front of you with a bright cheesy smile, the same one that resembled when he would find a new disc or start a new adventure, "For your safety, (N/n)!"

"Safety?" You choked out softly, Ranboo quickly guiding you to sit in the oak chair, "But... I'm one of the richest people on the server... I have god armour... Nothing could kill m-"

"Techno and Dream can." Tubbo interrupted sharply, halting you mid-sentence.

Right... That masked man... Or whatever he was... He was extremely dangerous, as well as Techno. They could likely pierce your netherite chest plate without even flinching at the number of thorns you had enchanted.

"We don't want anyone to bring you any harm... There's no problem with that, right, (Y/n)?" Ranboo smiled, flashing his sharpened teeth unthreateningly.

No... You wanted to say, but you wanted freedom! You wanted to expand your house to the size of a mansion! You wanted to bicker with Quackity about the stupidest of things! You wanted to get building advice from Phil!

Not be locked away because your safety was a tiny bit compromised!

"Tommy... Tubbo... Ranboo... Please, I'm not going to just stay locked away because I-"

"You'll see things our way soon... Eat up, get your rest." Tubbo smiled and gave you a hug, ignoring how you froze suddenly, before turning and skipping out of the room with the taller two following behind him.

Despite... How screwed up the three were with their methods of making you be their friend, it was working...

They were actually incredibly friendly and funny. It made life in capture bearable! Even though you were incredibly snappy and cruel to them in the beginning, they never held it against you.

Although... Despite their kindness and your quickly blooming friendship, you still had a craving to go outside. Even if what the three told you about everyone forgetting you existed was true.

"You look sad, (N/n)..." Tubbo murmured softly, watching you stare off into the blank quartz wall, "Are you okay?"

Tommy straightened up from his handmade scribble of a map, turning his head towards you in confusion. Ranboo stopped writing mid-word likely and looked in your direction as well.

They never liked it when you were upset.

You pursed your lips silently for a moment, clearly unsettling the males around you, "I just... Haven't been feeling too great... Both mentally and physically I mean... I need sunlight..."

"Yeah... I was reading about that earlier..." Ranboo hummed softly, adjusting his crown as he looked up at the ceiling, "But the issue is..."

"My safety... Yes, I know. What if, I wear my full netherite armour and keep a totem AND a Rapple on me? And also not leave your sides?" You bargained nervously.

That hadn't worked before. But then again, You weren't as close to them before...

The silence that fell upon the room was unsettling and caused your heart to race quickly. If they didn't like what you said, you would be alone for a few straight days... You didn't like it...

"Okay."

What.

That worked?

You just had to ask?!

You watched as Tubbo stood up and pulled the small ender chest from his pocket and set it on the ground, causing it to grow to normal size.

Standing aside, he made a gesture for you to open it and get your stuff.

Hesitantly, You walked over and kneeled down in front of the ender chest. Looking to Tubbo and the others for confirmation, you slowly opened it once they nodded.

Carefully, you began pulling out your armour but paused seeing the lack of golden apples and totems.

Right... Before you had gotten kidnapped by the group, you had used a totem when you fell into the L'Manhole where L'Manberg once was.

That what caused them to kidnap you...

"I-I used... My totem... And Fundy stole my Rapple..." You murmured hesitantly, feeling ready to cry.

Your only chance to escape and you couldn't grab it...

"Hey! Hey! Don't cry! Here!" Ranboo eagerly held the two golden items out towards you at the first sight of tears gathering under your eyes.

"What...?"

"(Y/n)! We want you to be happy! If being outside, even with god armour, rapples and totems, makes you happy, then damn well we're bringing you outside!" Tommy grinned.

After a few tears and lots of hugs, Tubbo helped you hop into your armour while Ranboo unlocked the chain cuff from around your ankle. Tommy had left, leaving the door open for once, going to scout the area for any dangerous mobs.

"Ready?" Ranboo smiled, linking one of his arms with yours, the one that you held the totem in to be more specific. Tubbo happily linked his arm with the other one.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as they began to walk you out the door, Ranboo had to duck down a lot, before leading you to the quartz stairway.

Once up the stairs, Tubbo pressed in a code to the iron door and it slid open quickly, causing you to flinch and pinch your eyes shut at the bright painful light of the sun.

It took about twenty minutes of trying to adjust to the sunlight with the two males encouraging you before you were able to look around.

It was everything you had missed...

The sunlight...

The trees...

God, it was perfect...

Tommy eventually came out of the tree line and sat down beside you as you took it all in...

Months, you were down there. And sure, they gave you plenty of decorations to prevent you from experiencing sensory deprivation, nothing could ever compare to the beauty of the outside world.

A voice cut through the air -calling for someone or something named Fran?- and you almost didn't recognize it. But then the owner came out of the trees, almost a similar direction that Tommy came from earlier.

Sam? He looked so... Different now...

The creeper hybrid slowly lowered his gas mask to show his mouth dropped in shock, "(Y/n)...? You're alive...?"

Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo were freaking out, trying to bring you back into the bunker, as they called it, but you weren't budging. You hadn't seen another being in ages... And while you did platonically love the three boys, you enjoyed hearing a new voice.

"You... Remember me? But... Tubbo you said-" You frowned at the goat hybrid as they stopped suddenly, realizing that you weren't moving.

"You three... Kept them locked away... For almost an entire year?" Sam's voice was getting a little bit scary now, but it wasn't directed at you, instead, at your best friends...

"Sam! It was to protect them! Please!" Ranboo tried, but he wasn't making it better.

"You made Quackity believe they ran away... Made Philza wake up every morning and walk through the SMP for any signs of them... Gave Puffy false information on where you have last seen them... lied to everyone... Only to be the reason that they were gone." Sam growled out, gripping his trident, "Then you proceeded to make them think we all forgot about them..."

"S-Sam... You've got this all wrong big man..." Tubbo tried next...

The warden wasn't listening as he pointed his trident at them, his communicator in his other hand next to his mouth, then he started speaking, causing his voice to come out of Ranboo's, Tubbo's and Tommy's pockets. He was speaking on the public channel.

"Tommy Innit, Tubbo Underscore, Ranboo Beloved... You are being placed in the prison, Pandora's Vault, for keeping (Y/n) (L/n) imprisoned in a bunker and lying about their whereabouts."

It felt like someone splashed you with cold water...

[thevindicativevordan]

Why isn't Nightwing a bigger deal? He has all of Batman's skills and Superman's faith in humanity and is arguably the most beloved hero in the DCU, but most people seem to know him either as the leader of the N̶o̶t̶ ̶J̶L̶ Teen Ttians or just Robin.

Thank you for asking me about Nightwing, I've been wanting to write a piece about him for a while now. The short version is that everyone who claims Dick becoming Nightwing was him "moving out of Batman's shadow and becoming his own man" is completely wrong.

Dick Grayson is a fantastic character, someone who saved Bruce Wayne in-universe both by forcing Batman to grow up a bit, and the countless times he saved Batman's life as his partner whether as Robin or Nightwing. Dick saved Batman in the real world as well, hard to believe but Batman was actually in danger of being cancelled due to poor sales early on. Enter Robin, a young daredevil audience stand in the creators hoped would get kids interested in reading Batman. And it worked! Sales on Batman doubled once Robin showed up which is crazy to think about, but Dick Grayson has always been a popular character. Cartoons like Teen Titans, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Batman only helped grow his audience.

Character-wise, Dick Grayson really does fill a number of crucial roles in the DCU. For Batman, Dick is proof that Batman is a positive force. Meeting Batman helped change Dick for the better, helped him heal after his parents died. With Dick, Batman can take comfort in knowing that yes, he has made a difference in the world for at least one orphan boy, which is all he wanted when he lost his parents himself. To the wider DCU, Dick is a friendly face who convinces others that Batman is competent and not a complete asshole. He took this kid in, trained him to be one of the best heroes the DCU has seen, and did it all out of the kindness of his heart. That someone like Dick can confront the evils of Gotham and not break means there's still hope for that city. As Robin, Dick has led the Titans and is an icon in his own right as The Sidekick, the original, the one every other Robin is built around copying or contrasting. The one all other superhero sidekicks are drawing on as a basis. As Robin Dick Grayson is very much on Batman's level.

Just not as Nightwing. As Nightwing, Dick has been a second rate Daredevil which means he's a third rate Batman (fully prepared to get hate for this but I've read and enjoyed the Miller and Bendis DD runs so I feel entitled to my opinion). A typical Nightwing run tends to go like this: Moving to Bludhaven (which is Gotham... but WORSE!), Dick Grayson usually enrolls in a pointless job we don't care about in order to provide some meaningless soap opera drama that doesn't go anywhere. Patrolling the city as Nightwing, he fights a variety of bad guys who are usually rather lame and unthreatening, with his big bad being a Kingpin knockoff called Blockbuster. Villains are fought, long running plotlines are set up, then everything is abandoned because it's Batfamily event time, and Dick has to run back to Gotham in order to play sidekick again. Usually his involvement is completely superfluous and it would've been better if the writer had gotten to opt out. By the time we finally get back to Nightwing's solo plotlines, the audience has usually ceased to care and the run gets cut short.

That's how Nightwing has been since the New 52 at least. Anyone who thinks that's "becoming their own man" is out of their mind. Dick is so thoroughly in Batman's shadow that he got shot in the head and spent a longer time as "Ric" which everyone fucking hated and sold like shit, than he did as Agent Grayson which was extremely well-received. Reiterating: Ric went on longer than Grayson because of a fucking Batman plotpoint Tom King wanted where Bruce was sad and cut off from the Batfamily because of Dick getting shot. Not just calling out King either, how many times was Kyle Higgins Nightwing run derailed because of Scott Snyder's crossovers? Or how about that entire run getting dumped to the side because Johns wanted to out Dick during Forever Evil, a Justice League/Lex Luthor story? DC has repeatedly made their contempt for Nightwing clear, he's Batman's sidekick still in their eyes, and he serves whatever story role the Batman writer wants.

Hell his best stories tend to have been the ones where he's not Nightwing. He was Robin in a good chunk of the Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans run. Morrison really showcased his depth as a character when they wrote him as Batman, their time with Dick under the cowl was actually one of the first Batman runs I ever read, and no Nightwing run has ever matched it in terms of quality in my humble opinion. Scott Snyder's work with DickBats also was a high point for the character, showing Dick as competent and examining his relationship with Gotham and the Gordons. King and Seeley gave him one of the best comic runs with Grayson, a series where he wasn't even a "superhero" technically! When it comes to actual pre-New 52 Nightwing runs that are highly recommended where he *is* Nightwing, there's Chuck Dixon and uhhhhhhh... Tomasi's brief run before Dick became Batman? It's not exactly an overwhelming list.

Look there has been good work done with Nightwing, I'm not claiming there hasn't been. Tim Seeley wrote a great run with Nightwing Rebirth. Seeley fleshed out Dick's Rogues Gallery with cool new ones like Raptor, he brought back old foes like Dr. Hurt (why oh why couldn't you have brought back Flamingo too?), he gave Dick's world some character it solely needed. Bludhaven under Seeley is pretty much the only time I've really felt like it lived up to being Dick's city.

The problem with fictional cities is you have to put in the work to give them the character of real cities. You have to make the cities feel like characters in their own right. Gotham is the best example of this, it's a character all it's own, one that tells you a lot about Batman and his cast. In contrast Bludhaven is usually one of the worst. Any place that wants to claim to be worse than the city that is built over the gate to hell and gets wrecked every other month by the Arkham freaks has to really put in the work to compete. Simply put, Bludhaven typically fails utterly. There's nothing about it that makes you really buy it's worse than Gotham, I mean does anyone really think Nightwing's Rogues wouldn't get their lunches eaten by Batman's? No, no one genuinely buys that. When Bludhaven claims to be worse, it just comes across as tryhard, an attribute that does end up telling you about Nightwing in unintentional ways.

So Seeley didn't do that. Instead he created a city built for a hero like Dick Grayson. Someone who is bright and flashy, but does have an element of darkness to him. Someone who loves the spotlight, but often uses it to obscure. Seeley turned Bludhaven into Las Vegas, and that was the fucking best concept for Bludhaven I have ever seen, it makes so much sense. Las Vegas is the "Entertainment Capital of the World" and isn't that the perfect city for a hero who got their start working in the circus? Isn't the aesthetics of the gleaming casinos, the glamorous sex appeal of the performers, and the spectacle of the shows, all being used to cover up the seediness of mob bosses meeting backstage perfect for Nightwing? It's so utterly unlike New York City, yet Las Vegas is still dangerous, it's got a crime culture all it's own. Seeley used it to great effect, as did Humphries during his brief run, and I will always be pissed that DC didn't continue to use it. That should have stuck around and been the definitive look for Bludhaven.

How Seeley's take on Bludhaven was treated feels like a small scale version of how Nightwing in general gets treated. Whenever creators pitched ideas for him, if editorial thought there was potential to break big, they asked for those ideas to be repurposed for Batman instead. Anything big or good gets repurposed for Batman or tossed to the side so Nightwing can go back to his default: having irrelevant adventures in a city that is supposedly worse than Gotham but can't live up to it. Just like how Nightwing is supposedly better than Batman but never gets to show it. Goddamn it's so frustrating seeing his potential get wasted like that.

The Nightwing book should be one of DC's most ambitious books in terms of storytelling. You can go from traditional superhero stories, to romantic soap opera, to spy stories, to crime noir, to horror, to cosmic adventures, and ALL of them would fit because Nightwing is someone who has a foot in both Gotham and Metropolis. He's got friends everywhere on every team, and has been a hero longer than most Leaguers have at this point. No reason DC should still be afraid to let him loose and insisting on hewing close to what Dixon established almost over 30 years ago is only holding him back. At the very least get him some better Rogues, why the hell didn't he get to keep Professor Pyg? That's Dick's villain not Bruce's! Bullshit that they didn't let Dick keep him. Hopefully Flamingo comes back, with a slight revamp I think he'd make a great reoccurring Nightwing Rogue.

Luckily it does look somewhat like Nightwing fans have reason to be optimistic. While Taylor isn't to my taste, DC clearly views him as a "big" writer, and that they put him on Nightwing says a lot. Taylor has been selling well so far, so hopefully he gets to tell his story, hilarious that even he lampshaded having to write Dick running over to Gotham for another tie-in after Taylor's big opening arc was all about Dick committing himself and his money to Bludhaven. Scott Snyder is apparently working on a Black Label Nightwing book which will explore how he's a different detective than Bruce. The Gotham Knights video game has him as one of the main stars, and while Titans is... controversial, it's one of the most popular streaming shows and Dick is the main character. There's a lot of content coming that features him in the starring role, and that will only help his star rise further.

For the first time in, well, ever it feels like DC may be serious about elevating him. Time will tell if it pays off, but I for one choose to be optimistic that the 2020s will be a turning point for Dick Grayson where Nightwing becomes hugely popular in his own right. Not just as Batman's sidekick.

[hb-writes]

Should’ve Known Better

Summary: It’s 1913 in the Little Lady Blinderverse and John’s up to his usual shenanigans where his little sister is concerned, only this time a simple bit of fun becomes more than the Shelbys bargained for. 

Characters: John Shelby and Clara Shelby

Content Warnings: angst, grief, guilt, illness

-- John had known from the second after he tossed his sister in the Cut, with her little head settling beneath the water’s surface for just a moment too long, and something had settled in him then. A little panic rose in his chest as he waited, the same panic that had risen in his own when Arthur had tossed their Ada in the very same canal about a decade before. 

All at once, John recognized the many ways that tossing a squealing Ada in the water had been a very different instance. 

Ada had been a little older than Clara then, at least a year older. And the summer sun had warmed the water a bit. And Tommy and John had already been in the water, ready to pull their sister up if she lingered too long below the surface, ready to show her how to swim, and she’d been eager for it, nearly begging Arthur to toss her between the feigned protesting.

Clara hadn’t been eager for it. She’d needed convincing and John’s unrelenting goading just to get her up to the water’s edge. That was normal, the extra bit of reassurance and convincing needed to step outside of expectations, to deviate from normal, to agree to nearly any of John’s schemes, especially those involving Polly’s sanctioned canal. That was Clara, a bit of extra caution paid to anything she hadn’t done before, anything someone had once directed her away from, especially if it was Polly or Tommy doing the directing. 

Too well-behaved for her own good, John frequently thought. 

It had ultimately been the fact that Finn had already learned to swim that had convinced her, that little bit of jealousy at her twin being further ahead in something earning John a cautious nod, a hesitant bit of consent as she slipped her hand in his.

But John should have known better.

He’d made too many assumptions about his little sister’s ability to swim, too many hasty comparisons to the Shelbys that had come before her, too much credence given to the fact that the girl was quick with most things—receptive and observant. 

And Finn had been a natural in the water, had jumped in without being pushed, sinking down for just a few seconds before coming up with a grin on his face, his arms already paddling and his legs kicking as he moved himself to the other side of the canal, already calling out to John for a race his stout legs could never win, but Clara and Finn weren’t the same kids. 

John knew that. He knew it and he should have known better. 

Like Ada, Finn had been tossed in the Cut in late August. It was now April, an unseasonably warm day where the sun had John out of his coat, his sleeves pushed up to the elbows, Clara running about in a thin summer dress, but it was still early Spring. The temperature of the water hadn’t had enough time to warm and match that of the air. 

John hadn’t realized how cold the water was until he jumped in after her, the chill on the bare patches of skin stinging like the pricks of a thousand hot needles as he reached through the murky water searching for a limb to tug Clara up to the surface. 

She came up coughing and sputtering, something for which John was grateful. He let out a relieved breath at that, assuming it meant they’d be alright. 

She’d be alright. 

And if it hadn’t been so damn cold, John would have made Clara stay in, would have made her give swimming a proper try, would have taught her how to kick her legs and paddle her arms, not allowing her out until she was swimming across by herself, good as her twin brother with it, good as anyone, but John’s body was already hurting, saturated with cold after only a few seconds so he pushed Clara out of the water and onto the edge of the Cut, pulling himself up beside her, half a laugh coming to his lips before he realized Clara was crying, hiccuping and gasping for breath.

John had reached for her then, tried to pull her to him, to soothe over his misstep, to step back into his position with her, the fun brother, the joking brother, full of smiles and laughs, but Clara had pushed and kicked him away and set herself up on her shaking legs, putting a distance between them, her body shivering and teeth chattering as she stood a distance away from him, muttering about wanting to go home through the tears on her face that John couldn’t distinguish from the residual wetness from her trip into the canal. 

She’d been immune to his apologies, blocking him and his words out of her mind and heart from then, and throughout their walk home, her silence and indifference to him standing until now. It had been on purpose at first, a calculated move, an individually selected strategy employed to silently communicate the hurt he’d caused to her...

They’d gotten home and Clara had gone straight to her room. John had gone back to his own house to change out of his wet clothes, assuming he’d come back to the shop and be met by a mob of angry Shelbys—by Polly who’d threaten, and maybe follow through with, skinning him for messing around in the Cut, by Tommy because Tommy was always a step too plussed by anyone making their Clara upset, quick to defend and protect and step in where their youngest sister was concerned. He imagined they’d all have something to say about it, even little Finn who usually gained an extra bit of self-righteousness where his twin’s tears were concerned, but John had come back and everyone had acted like it was a normal day, a normal Good Friday, and he’d been grateful for that, grateful that his sister hadn’t made a fuss or that there’d been no one available for her to fuss too, saving him an earful, saving him a smack upside the back of the head, just a normal day.

John should have known better, should’ve followed up to be sure, but the shop was busy and as soon as he was through the door, he was caught up in the bets and the races, his mind set to the odds and the books, their morning excursion quickly forgotten and John didn’t spare a thought to his disgruntled little sister until he closed the shop doors several hours later, collapsing at the table where Finn was playing with some old toy, a little wooden horse that had once been his, and Tommy’s and Arthur’s before that. 

“Where’s your sister?” John asked, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, rallying himself to go on home after a long day, back to his wife and the babies. 

Finn shrugged as he moved from chair to chair, making the horse gallop along the table’s edge, traveling up John’s arm and across the top of his head before coming down the other side and going round again. 

“Both have been up in their rooms all day,” Polly said as she stepped out of the kitchen. “Are you responsible for either?”

John rolled his eyes as Finn’s horse clomped over his left ear. “Well, Ada never needs a reason, does she?”

Polly sighed, wiping her hands on the apron tied at her waist. “And what about the other one?” 

John met Polly’s eye for a moment before pushing his chair back and moving up the stairs toward the twins’ bedroom without a word, just a deep breath, a sarcastic ‘thank you’ sent his way from Polly after he’d hit the fifth step.

John had barely left the room since then because the sister he’d come across holed up in her bedroom wasn’t the disgruntled girl he was expecting. She wasn’t holed up in her room keen on avoiding him, arms tucked tightly across her chest, a cold expectant stare she was learning from their aunt sent his way.

She wasn’t quite anything John could set a word to other than unwell, with discolored skin and hazy eyes blinking at him but not seeing, unfocused from her spot on the bed, with skin so hot that John promptly pulled his hand back from her head, stepping right back out the door and called out for Polly who’d then promptly called for the doctor who had given Clara something, some mixture from the chemist, something they’d had to force down between her lips, but other than that, the doctor had said nothing. No prognosis. No other intervention. He’d instructed them to simply wait. 

Polly had tried to send John home to his wife and kids, had tried soothing him, but John hadn’t been willing to have it, pushing her touch on his shoulder away even though he craved it, the comfort. And he’d barely acknowledged Martha when she’d come, barely accepted the kiss she’d placed on his temple, barely listened as his wife spoke to Polly just outside the door, his wife quietly saying that John wouldn’t be moved, saying that it was best to just let him be, to just let him sit with Clara. 

So they let John be, joining him in the vigil on and off, Tommy there by his side most often, the both of them quiet, a calm that wasn’t at all comforting settling between the three of them, a calm that acknowledged something no one was saying, something that the same doctor who’d tended to their mother after the twins’ birth hadn’t said, that Clara’s way forward was rather uncertain, out of his hands, out of anyone’s hands.

And John couldn’t help but think it was his hands that had put them here, put his sister here, laid up in a bed, barely a shell of who she was. It was his hands that had put Clara in harm’s way all for some careless fun, in the name of goofing off, in the name of getting a rise out of her. 

He couldn’t get a rise out of her if he’d tried now, the planned ignoring she’d been giving him effortlessly slipping into something more sinister, his pleas and apologies going unanswered, unheard. 

John was used to his words falling on deaf ears, used to speaking and feeling as if his words would receive a better reception if they were directed at a bit of exposed brick in the shop, used to voicing his opinions only to have them shot down or ignored by Tommy, discounted by Pol, laughed at by Ada. 

He was used to shushing his babies, used to humming and singing and soothing to bring about a bit of quiet only to be met with unrelenting tears. 

He was used to shouting after his oldest two kids now, no clear evidence that they even heard their father since they often went right on with whatever trouble John had been trying to deter without paying their father a single thought. 

But Clara usually listened to John’s words, even when John wished she hadn’t been listening, even when she shouldn’t have been listening, even when she was giving him the silent treatment. And the kid didn’t always like John’s words. She often argued with him, offering a string of ‘but so and so said’ and ‘nuh-uh, John’ but she still listened anyway, carefully considered her older brother’s words, dutifully considered him, observed more than his words, saw more than was right for a kid to see and understand at her age.

Clara wasn’t doing any of that now though, not seeing or listening or considering. She was just quiet and the eeriness had John wishing for an argument, wishing for her to tell him all of the ways he was wrong, to give him a laundry list of things Tommy and Polly and Arthur and Ada and Uncle Charlie had told her.

But John was half grateful for the stillness that had come over his sister now even if it unsettled him, her current state not quite in line with the person who he’d come to know her as. Even if she was typically quiet, typically better at keeping still than any of the rest of them, more outwardly calm. Something about it wasn’t their Clara, but the unnerving stillness was easier to watch than the delirium of fever had been, easier than seeing her struggling breaths, the relentless wheezing, the shaking chills, and mumbled nonsensical words. 

John dropped his hold on Clara’s limp fingers and pushed his head into his palms, a sob breaking his lips. 

“I should have known better,” John whispered, finally voicing the words he’d been thinking for a few days now, the sentiment chanting over and over in his mind finally spilling out, set out into the world with a breaking voice and hot tears burning his face. 

John would have done anything, would have welcomed any punishment, endured whatever he needed to take the pain away, whatever would allow Clara to come out of this alright, back to her old self, even if she never spoke to him again, never listened or agreed to another of his schemes. Whatever it was, John would gladly...

“I’ll do any—”

John stopped himself short before finishing the sentiment, a part of him knowing there was nothing that could take it away, nothing he could do to take it back, believing in his aching heart that the pain he felt at seeing Clara, the pain of not knowing was his penance. 

He’d earned this. 

It was what he deserved for not knowing better. 

--

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Little Lady Blinder (Peaky Blinders) Masterlist