#they nearest and dearest will know the true them and that's what matters

[mcflysohigh]

Danny's back on Instagram with some proper love from everyone ❤️ hope he's ok

[spacequokka]

Love You First

Pairing: Crown Prince!Yugyeom x Reader Genre: Royalty AU, Fluff, Angst Rating: PG Summary: Who wants to marry a man they've never met? Yugyeom hopes to convince you he's worth it. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: mentions of war

You were eager to get away from them all. Talking about war as if it were of no consequence to the people of the kingdom. If it weren’t a big deal then what use would an arranged marriage be? In truth, they simply enjoyed toying with people, drunk on the power they held over everyone around them. Including you. Their laughter made you shake and bite your lip to keep words you wouldn’t take back from hurting their feelings.

You glanced out the window again and a glint of the moonlight off something in the garden caught your attention. Yes, a walk to clear your head and calm down was in order. Who cared if you hadn’t properly met your intended yet? You slipped out the nearest door and navigated the hallways until the cool night air hit your face. The calming effect was instantaneous.

“Do the war discussions bother you, too?”

You whirled around and found a handsome young man approaching. “Oh! I—” His suit was snow white and decorated with all sorts of medals and pins depicting his service to his country. At the least, he was a noble. “Yes. It should bother everyone. Not be discussed with a band playing as you sip fancy wine. It’s ridiculous. People’s lives are at stake.” You huffed and continued forward into the hedge maze. Your companion fell into step beside you.

“I agree. They should treat it seriously. Maybe they’re so carefree because they’ve solved the issue?”

You scoffed. “With the marriage? How foolish of them. Who’s to say it won’t end up making things worse? What if the bride simply…disappeared?”

He gasped softly and stopped in his tracks. “Where would you go? And what about your kingdom, your people?”

“How do you know I’m—” You looked at him and it dawned on you. The black hair, the green and gold sash draped over his chest. It seemed you weren’t the only one to detest wearing a crown. “Oh god. You’re the prince I’m to marry.”

He bowed. “I am Yugyeom, Crown Prince of the House of Kim. I apologize for my arriving late to our engagement announcement soirée.”

You turned on your heel and kept walking deeper into the maze. “It doesn’t matter, to them or to me, so save your apologies.”

“Oh.” He straightened up. “Well, wait! You didn’t answer my question.”

“Do you honestly care? If I were gone, you wouldn’t be forced to marry a stranger you’d be stuck with until one of you die.” You walked faster hoping he’d stop following. “As for my people, they’re at the mercy of those morons in there no matter what I do.”

“That’s not entirely true.” He spoke softly from your left. “Once we’re crowned, we’ll be able to make declarations and rule however we see fit. I know we’ve never met, but I’m familiar with your opinions and desires for the future.” He glanced at you and flushed when your eyes met. “I read the letters you wrote concerning the border issues and women’s rights. Your proposals were well-thought out and articulated, and I’m eager to implement them.”

“You’re just saying that. You don’t want me to run away.” You lifted your chin and narrowed your eyes. “You’ll take it all back once we say ‘I do’ then expect me to keep silent and push out babies.”

His chuckled but it held no mirth. “I have the notes and decree drafts to prove it. My dearest friend will vouch for me. I asked for his opinion on them.”

“A friend?” You turned to him and crossed your arms. “Your advisor, you mean?”

Yugyeom shook his head. “King Jungkook and I often consult each other on important matters concerning our respective kingdoms. I trust him with my life and those of my people.”

You mouth snapped shut. Everyone knew of the benevolent king. More importantly, you stayed up to date on his speeches as you admired the way he thought and ruled his kingdom. Sure, there’d been mentions of his friendships with neighboring countries but you never thought the specifics important. “Oh, well…”

He stepped closer. “With that said, I have no intention of locking you away once we marry. I fully intend for us to stand together. I can handle the foreign affairs while you focus on improving the lives of our people. I personally can’t wait to see their reaction to your plans for solving the poverty crisis.”

“I cannot believe you actually took the time to read anything I’ve written.” You covered your cheeks with your fingers. Shaking your head, you took off once again. “That’s much more than I expected of you.”

“Sounds like I’ve impressed you.” His voice took on a smug tone. “Does that mean I don’t need to list off your hobbies? Though, I admit I’d love to see you play the piano.” You nearly tripped. “If I’m to spend the rest of my life with you, I think it’s only right I learn everything I can.”

“This feels like some sort of weird dream.” You came to a stop when faced with the massive fountain that sat in the center of the maze. “You’re not supposed to be kind and caring. Where’s the chauvinistic, narcissistic spoiled man hoping to have a dozen women in his bed while his queen raises their five children on her own?” The smirk on his face only drove your irritation further. “I don’t want to be okay with marrying you!”

“And why is that?” He closed the distance between you. “Is it because they took away your choice in the matter?”

“Yes! I don’t want to be told what to do, not when it’s something this important. I want to be in love when I walk down the aisle. I want to look forward to consummating our union because I’m comfortable with you, not fear it.” You nearly pulled your hair which would’ve ruined a good hour of sitting until your legs went numb. “And here you are being all cute and supportive and sweet.” You huffed with disgust.

“…You think I’m cute?”

“Oh my god.” You covered your face. “Just leave me here to die.”

“Absolutely not.” He brushed your shoulder with his. When you didn’t move away, he took a chance and ran his fingertips down your arm. “For whatever it’s worth, I’ll admit I’ve had a tiny crush on you for quite some time now.” When you looked at him in question, he nodded. “I’ve always known I’d be set to marry. I was like you at first, against it and sure it’d be a miserable experience. So when they first started mentioning you during meetings…I asked for information. I needed to know what kind of person you were.”

“So when they told you I was a hot-headed, stubborn brat you didn’t go running for the hills?”

He laughed outright, fingers grazing yours. “Hah. No, I didn’t. The second I laid eyes on your portrait, I was a goner.” He looked into your eyes with a look that left your skin covered in goosebumps. “You’ll think I’m a liar, but it was love at first sight. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—and I’ve attended six balls where dozens of women were hoping to be chosen to marry.” He rolled his eyes. “Not one of them compare to the vision before me.”

“Yet you show up late to our engagement party?” You scoffed and brushed his hand away with a smirk. “Unbelievable.”

“I wanted to look my best!” He pointed to one of the medals on his sash. “It broke and I had it fixed. I didn’t realize doing so would put us behind schedule.” He took your hands in his and brushed a kiss across your knuckles. “If I’m ever given the chance to do it over, I’m tossing it out the nearest window. Not worth disappointing you, ever.”

“For the record, I was not disappointed. I was actually relieved. Thought you’d get cold feet and run away with one of your maids.”

“Never. You’ll always be my first and only choice. Headstrong, proactive, and musically inclined? Sign me up!” His smile melted the rest of the ice encasing your heart. He was a dork, but he’d be your dork. Ugh. He was already rubbing off on you. A giggle bubbled up and came out before you could pull yourself together. Your laughter proved to be contagious as Yugyeom joined you. By the time you stopped you both were wiping tears from your cheeks.

“I want to say I hate that I’m having more fun out here alone with you but I pride myself on being painfully honest.” You looked up at him and he gently took your hands. “I’ve changed my mind. I won’t run away…provided you stay true to all that you said before.”

“I’ll include it in my wedding vows.” His face was serious.

“You’re writing vows, too?!” You groaned. “That’s it. I’m dreaming. None of this is real. You’re too good to real. I’m gonna wake up at my desk with a book imprinted on my cheek.”

His fingertips delicately guided your attention back to him. “I thought the same of you at first.” He turned his hand so that his thumb caressed your cheek. “It seemed impossible such a woman could exist, much less be my intended. Yet here we are, living what’s been the best night of my life so far. I pray you’ll grace me with the honor of calling you my love. I look forward to getting to know you, to getting you to fall in love with me, and building a life together that our kingdom will celebrate.”

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

True Weakness

Thank you to @laffy-taffy-creations for helping me come up with the title!

“Darling,” Whumper called, opening the door to Whumpee’s room, “breakfast’s ready.”

The little lump under the blankets didn’t move. Whumper tutted, then spoke again.

“Whumpee, my love,” they said, “if you weren’t awake before, my voice should’ve roused you now. Come along.”

As they spoke, Whumper crossed the room to their darling’s bedside. When Whumpee still didn’t respond, a frown crept into Whumper’s features.

“Whumpee, you know how I feel about being ignored-”

Whumper pulled back the covers and nearly recoiled at what they saw. Whumpee’s eyes were shut in restless sleep, their breathing was labored, and their beautiful face contorted in discomfort as red splotches stained their usually flawless skin. Whumper put a hand to their forehead; the heat radiating there was all the confirmation they needed.

“My dearest, how long have you been like this?” they whispered to themselves.

Whumpee whimpered in their sleep, unconsciously leaning into their captor’s cool touch. Whumper crouched down at their side and cupped their too-warm face.

“Whumpee, please wake up for me,” they whispered.

Slowly, Whumpee’s eyes fluttered open, revealing glassy irises beneath half-closed lids. Whumper breathed a sigh of relief, at least they were able to rouse them.

“You’re burning up, my darling,” they said, “how are you feeling?”

Whumpee whimpered in response, their eyes screwing shut as they nuzzled further into Whumper’s hands.

“Talk to me, what hurts?”

Whumpee looked up at them with the most pitiful expression.

“Everything,” they croaked hoarsely.

There was an unnatural gravel to their voice, and it looked like just speaking was causing them pain.

“I’m afraid I might have to take you to a doctor,” Whumper decided, “are you going to behave for me?”

Whumper didn’t wait for their response; they hoisted Whumpee up into a bridal carry. At this point, Whumpee would usually protest, but their current state had made them miserably docile. Whumper brought them to the car and laid them in the passenger’s seat. They buckled their seatbelt for them and closed their door. Once in the driver’s seat, Whumper sped off to the nearest town. The benefit of living in a large cabin in a private forest was no one would bother them and their darling, but the privacy did have its downsides, especially in situations like this.

…

Whumpee had fallen asleep on the way home. Whumper gently carried them inside and tucked them back into bed. Strep throat, the doctor had said, and a pretty bad case of it, too. Whumper had no idea how Whumpee had gotten it, they had always been so careful to keep them as healthy as possible. Whumper felt utterly ashamed of themselves for letting this happen, and as they opened the bag of medicine Whumpee had been prescribed, they fought the urge to cry. Gently, they shook their shoulder.

“Mmm,” Whumpee groaned.

“I’m sorry my love, but I need you to take some of this.”

Whumper poured some medicine onto a spoon. Whumpee looked down at the thick, sticky liquid, then back up at Whumper pleadingly.

“I know, I know,” Whumper said, “but you have to take it. It’s going to help you feel better. You do want to feel better, don’t you?”

Whumper slipped a hand behind Whumpee’s back and lifted them into a sitting position. Whumpee’s mouth fell open, allowing them to feed them the medicine.

With great difficulty, and quite the grimace, Whumpee swallowed. Whumper quickly offered them a glass of water, which they drained in a matter of seconds. Whumper then lowered them back into bed.

“I’ll let you get your rest,” they said, “you’re going to need it.”

Whumper turned to leave, but a weak hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed their sleeve. Whumper turned, their brows going up in surprise. Whumpee looked just as shocked as them.

“What is it, darling?”

“…S-Stay?”

Whumper melted on the spot. They crawled in bed next to their little Whumpee, holding them close. The germs could go fly a kite. This was the first time Whumpee had actually wanted Whumper to be with them. Maybe Whumper should let them get sick more often…

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[acescorazon]

Changes

Chapter: 14

Title: Confliction

Rating: M

Word Count: 3248

Warnings: Su*cidal thoughts.

Chapter Excerpt:

Before anything can happen, though, Mihawk steps into the tent with Crocodile following close behind him. Buggy freezes up the moment that he sees the two imposing figures. The room feels awfully hot, and his body quickly becomes covered in sweat as he stares at his executioners. This is it, Buggy thinks, closing his eyes tight to prevent himself from crying.

Buggy holds his breath and waits for it: For mountains of sand to surround him and swallow him whole or for a sharp blade to pierce his chest (he won’t dodge any strikes that Mihawk might try and deliver to his frail body) he’s ready for the end.

 

No, he’s not. 

Yes, yes, he is. He wants to be free. 

No, he doesn’t. He wants to run, he wants to live so badly, but not like this.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|Ch11|Ch12||Ch13||

Buggy’s lost track of time again, but then again, maybe it doesn’t matter what time it is or what day it is anymore. He lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to block out all of the thoughts that continuously pour into his head. He’s been in the same clothes for god knows how long now, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything at this point. 

(That’s not true.)

Buggy is lying there, rotting away. He hasn’t allowed anyone into his room, not even his nearest and dearest friends. Not this time, it would just be too hard for him - for them. His head pounds at all hours of the day when he isn’t asleep, and his stomach is painfully empty but he can’t bring himself to go out and look for food and medicine nor can he bring himself to ask for someone to bring him those basic necessities. 

These last few months have felt like some strange nightmare that Buggy can’t wake up from. Everything’s happened so fast and every time Buggy tried to get a grip on the situation, something always went wrong. Just how much bad luck can one guy possibly have? Buggy feels like he’s at the end of the line, though. There’s nothing that he can do to salvage his relationship with the other two founding members of Cross Guild and live happily ever after. Then again, maybe those silly little hopes and dreams that Buggy had, the ones where he, Mihawk, and Crocodile actually coexisted and made Cross Guild a formidable force were just that, silly little hopes and dreams. 

Buggy should know better than to get his hopes up or dream by now. 

He wonders how his captain did it. Gol D. Roger made an ally out of even the coldest loner.  Buggy has his children - his devout followers - sure, but he doesn’t have what Roger had, and he sure doesn’t have what Shanks has either. He never did, though. For the most part Buggy is either universally loved or hated and there’s never been an in between. It’s a stark comparison to Shanks who people fear and instantly love once they actually meet him. Shanks was always more like their captain, though. While Buggy was… Well, Buggy. Buggy the clown, Buggy the apprentice, Buggy the….man forever in Shanks’ shadow.

Whatever, It’s far too late to start again and figure out what makes people love Shanks or what made them love Roger. It’s also too late to figure out what makes them hate Buggy, maybe he should have stopped and thought about why Mihawk and Crocodile truly hated him. Sure, he’s a bit of a coward, there’s no denying that. There are also times when his mouth gets the best of him, but other than that…What’s so bad about Buggy? He…He just doesn’t get it. Out of all the pirates out there on the sea right now, Buggy can’t possibly be the worst person to be stuck with yet Mihawk and Crocodile have always seen him as a pest. A nuisance. A waste of space and air.

 

Why is Buggy wasting his time wondering about all this? It’s not like it even matters at this point. Nothing matters anymore. He hasn’t seen or heard from Mihawk and Crocodile, which should be a good thing, all things considered, but instead their absence fills him with anxiety. He can’t help but think that they’re planning his execution right about now and that eventually they’ll come, beat him up, and then finally finish him off for good. A scary thought, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t have it in him to run or beg for mercy anymore. After all, all attempts of escape or weaseling his way out of a beating were futile in the past, so why would they work now?

There are times when Buggy wonders if he should just off himself before Mihawk and Crocodile get the chance to. He finds himself thinking that he should piss them off one more time and take away the fun in killing him, but then he stops and thinks. He thinks about jumping into the ocean or grabbing a gun from their armory and just….finally getting the peace and freedom that he’s so desperately wanted for weeks, even months now.

The funny thing is: Buggy’s anxiety is protecting him. It’s keeping him alive for another miserable day. It’s his safeguard. Even though Buggy is rotting away and has even come to accept his fate…his anxiety is still putting up a fight. He’s stuck in a place where he’s ready for death, but far too scared to face it. He thinks about his captain again, and how he was so ready to face his own death. That could never be Buggy. Buggy could never laugh in the face of fate and death like that, he couldn’t even embrace it. He’s spent his whole life running away from death instead and living the life of a coward.  

That same anxiety will probably make him run when Mihawk and Crocodile eventually come find him, or force him to seek help before he can truly rot away, when all he wants is to escape this never-ending nightmare. It’s painfully frustrating how consuming his fear and anxiety are at times, and he wishes he were just a little braver, but he’s not.

Buggy can faintly hear some noise coming from outside his tent, but it’s all a distant blur. He can’t make out who’s saying what, but he doesn’t think he wants to be able to hear what’s going on anyways. He’s given up. For all he knows, Crocodile could have finally taken over the island completely after their fight. If that’s the case, Buggy’s better off being in the dark. He doesn’t even want to think about what Crocodile has done to his poor children and island at this point, but it probably isn’t anything good. 

“Buggy?” A voice calls out, but Buggy is too emerged in his thoughts to notice who’s speaking to him at first. He figures it’s just one of his crew, trying to get him to eat or come out of his tent finally, but then realization sets in. The voice is soft, masculine, and there are no formalities being used. No ‘Captain Buggy’ or ‘Chairman Buggy.’

 

A sigh can be heard from outside his room next, “Oh, come on, Buggy. This is starting to become…” 

Buggy bolts up into a sitting position, and his heart starts to beat furiously in his chest. This is it. They’ve finally come to end Buggy, just like they said they would if he proved to be a burden. He doesn’t say anything at all, he just stares at the entrance of his tent, waiting for them to come in.

This is it. The day that he’s going to die, the day that he’s going to finally be reunited with his beloved captain after all these years, the day he finally gets freedom from this whole nightmare. He’s scared. He’s never been so scared in his life. Of course, he says that all the time, but he means it this time. His body is trembling on its own and he can feel the first few tears build in his eyes, as well as a bout of nausea.

 

Buggy’s anxiety is telling him to push past Mihawk (and probably Crocodile) and run as fast as he can to somewhere safe, but he knows that that would be pointless. He wants to run, but he can’t. He’s ready to die, but he isn’t at the same time. Goddamn it, he wishes he wasn’t a walking contradiction. 

“Okay, enough of this nonsense. We’re coming in,” Mihawk warns, and it’s at that moment when Buggy thinks he’s actually going to throw up. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll just have a heart attack before Mihawk and Crocodile can get their hands on him. It seems like the ideal situation, as grim as it might sound. He’d be spared any pain or any conflicting emotions, and that sounds like a win-win to him… Kinda. 

Before anything can happen, though, Mihawk steps into the tent with Crocodile following close behind him. Buggy freezes up the moment that he sees the two imposing figures. The room feels awfully hot, and his body quickly becomes covered in sweat as he stares at his executioners. This is it, Buggy thinks, closing his eyes tight to prevent himself from crying.

Buggy holds his breath and waits for it: For mountains of sand to surround him and swallow him whole or for a sharp blade to pierce his chest (he won’t dodge any strikes that Mihawk might try and deliver to his frail body) he’s ready for the end. 

No, he’s not. 

Yes, yes, he is. He wants to be free. 

No, he doesn’t. He wants to run, he wants to live so badly, but not like this.

Buggy’s end isn’t swift, nor is it slow and painful. His end doesn’t come at all, actually.  Instead, what comes next is rather unexpected. “Open your eyes. I assure you that we mean no harm,” Mihawk orders, and Buggy can hear him pull out his sword. He thinks it’s a trick at first, and waits for Mihawk to stab him, but he doesn’t.

A tense moment of silence goes by before Buggy opens his eyes. His vision is blurry at first but he quickly wipes the tears away and accidentally makes eye contact with Mihawk. “Look,” He says before slowly placing his sword down on the ground and raising his hands up. “We didn’t come here to fight.”He glances over at Crocodile who grumbles something as well as he raises his hands in the air:

“Yeah, we’re just here to talk…” 

Naturally, Buggy doesn’t believe a single word that the other two are saying. He figures they’re just going to trick him into thinking he’s safe before killing him for real, but he has no way of proving it. It seems rather likely, though. 

Crocodile clears his throat, “Look, I want to apologize again.” He says slowly. Buggy can barely believe that Crocodile apologized a first time, let alone a second time. “I’m not going to bullshit you. I really want this Cross Guild thing to work, and that requires me to have both you and Hawkeye by my side.”

Ugh, stupid Cross Guild. Why does everything have to be about their shitty organization? Crocodile pauses for a moment to gather his words before he continues to speak, “You are more than just a coward, okay? You’re actually an excellent leader, and your status as emperor of the sea makes you rather…invaluable.” 

Buggy blinks, unsure how to respond to Crocodile’s praise and apology. It all feels surreal. Maybe he’s dreaming right now, or maybe he’s died and gone to a very bad place, but it’s still somehow better than where he was before. 

Crocodile glances over at Mihawk, who nods at him, silently urging him to continue. “I know i’ve been a real dick and i know you probably think i just want to call a truce for Cross Guild’s sake… And, I’m not going to bullshit you, you’d be right to think that. But, look, Buggy, I’m asking you for your forgiveness as well. I’m asking you for your forgiveness and for you to ‘lead’ our little group like before. I swear on my life that I won’t lay a finger on you ever again, okay? I swear I’ll change. Can we please just get back to business?” 

Crocodile’s second apology seems a lot more genuine than the first, but part of Buggy is still hesitant. How can he believe that Crocodile is being serious right now? Why would he forgive him for all that he’s done anyways? Is it even possible for Buggy to put aside all his fear and hatred so the three of them can 'get back to business?' 

“Look, Buggy, i can tell you ain’t exactly thrilled at the idea of kissing and making up,” Crocodile adds, “But, look, you don’t have to forgive me right away. You don’t have to forgive me at all. I’m an asshole, i know that. Just… can we all agree to get along for the sake of Cross Guild? For the sake of money, land, and power? We don’t have to be best friends but we need each other now and if the government realizes there are cracks in our foundation, you bet your ass they’re bound to attack sooner rather than later.”

“While I agree with Crocodile and want us all to stop with this foolishness…” Mihawk says, joining the conversation again, “I won’t agree to anything officially until you do, Buggy.” Why is the pressure always on Buggy?  Why is it that as soon as he’s freed from one situation, he’s cornered into another one? “You already know that I want us all to have a better relationship and if you forgive Crocodile then I’ll make sure he sticks to his word. I’ll make sure that there is a healthy amount of respect between the three of us maintained and that no harm ever comes your way.”

“What do you say, Buggy?” Crocodile asks, holding out his hand. 

“We can’t change what we did in the past, but we want to make up for all of our mistakes.” Mihawk states before also holding his hand out, “What do you say? Will you give us another chance?”  

Everything freezes in that moment. Buggy can’t wrap his head around the idea that Mihawk and Crocodile are actually apologizing to him again, that they’re actually trying to make this Cross Guild thing work. Their behavior is such a stark comparison to what it was just a few months ago, and it makes Buggy feel like he has whiplash. Is it actually possible for two people to change their ways so soon? he wonders. It’s definitely not possible for him to change that fast, he knows that.

After all the fighting, all the beatings, all the insults, they actually want to put things to bed? Dozens of memories flood through his mind at that very moment. The hell that Mihawk, but more specifically, Crocodile, put him through in the last few months has left permanent scars, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to heal from those scars. 

However…Crocodile does have a point. Buggy hates to admit it, but Crocodile is right. They need each other now and if the world government finds out they’re having problems, then they’re sure to capitalize on said problems. And he would be stupid if he passed up an opportunity for a truce again…

Buggy stares at the two hands being offered to him, and as much as he hates the two men before him and wants to reject their offer, there's a voice in the back of his head telling him to shake their hands. To put aside his pride and not start any more fights or drama…  

You don't have to like them, just accept the olive branch that they're extending, stupid, he tells himself as he slowly reaches out with shaking hands. He shakes Mihawk's hand first and then, after a moment of hesitation, he shakes Crocodile's hand. 

If this is all a lie or a trick, then he'll just have to accept the fact that he fell for it. He slowly opens his mouth and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse and shaky, "W-What happens next…?" He asks. 

"We'll have a meeting in a few days," Crocodile replies, "Now that we're all on the same page, it'll be business as usual."  There’s that phrase again: Business as usual.  Buggy doesn't know whether or not he should dread this new chapter for Cross Guild, but anything would be better than what they had previously going on for them. 

"Yes, but, again, Crocodile and I can't stress how sorry we truly are." Mihawk tells Buggy, "And we're truly grateful for your forgiveness." Eh, Buggy wouldn't say that, but, okay. It's more like he accepted their apology because he had no other choice, but, it’s not like he’s stupid enough to say that out loud. 

Crocodile heaves a sigh, "Yes, we're sorry. We're sorry. I'll have gifts sent to you first thing in the morning." He mutters, looking at some random corner in the room. Oh, now he's just trying to buy Buggy's forgiveness, isn’t he…? Well, It can’t be bought, but he’ll still take the presents, especially if it’s booze.

Buggy looks down at his lap, “Yeah, I…” He pauses, not quite wanting to outright say that he forgives Mihawk and Crocodile when he really doesn’t. He smiles instead, “It’s fine! Did you two really think you could bring me down?! Get real!” He fakes a laugh because that’s what he’s supposed to do, but it’s all another act. He thinks Mihawk can tell he’s putting on an act right away, and if Crocodile can too, he sure doesn’t show it.

“Nothing can bring Captain Buggy The Clown down!” He laughs again, but these are two men who are well aware that he’s been locking himself away and suffering alone because of all the issues he’s been having with them. They know the truth, yet they don’t say anything. “You didn’t even need to apologize, really! You could have just sent some booze over and all would have been fine!”

(No, It wouldn’t have been.) 

Buggy guesses that means he’ll return to being more or less Crocodile’s personal secretary and the fake leader of the group… It’s not the worst gig, he supposes. “What’s with the tense faces, boys?!” He asks as he looks around and notices that Mihawk and Crocodile have rather serious expressions on their faces. “ This is a new chapter for us! For Cross Guild!” He cheers, “We’re going to take over the world, boys!”. No one cheers with him. They stare at him, reading him like a book. They know the truth. He wonders how they can read him so easily. 

Mihawk stares at Buggy, and there’s feeling behind those icy eyes of his. Perhaps it’s pity, but Buggy has never once asked for Mihawk’s pity. “...” Mihawk finally looks away with a sigh, “I look forward to this new chapter as well…” He mutters as he turns to leave. 

What the hell? Buggy can’t help but think. He’s done everything right, hasn’t he? Why does Mihawk still seem so…disappointed? Was that disappointment or more pity? Was it regret? There’s something that Mihawk clearly isn’t saying, but Buggy can’t figure it out.

Crocodile also begins to make his leave as soon as MIhawk starts to go, but then he suddenly stops. "One more thing," Crocodile says, turning around. Oh, God, he's going to ask for something unreasonable right away, isn't he? The more things change, the more they stay the same. "Go get something to eat and take a hot shower. It pisses me off to see you like that." He mutters before turning around and leaving. 

Buggy stares at the entrance to his tent for a moment after his two partners leave. “Like you even give a shit…” He whispers to himself softly before lying back down and laughing bitterly at the irony of Crocodile’s words. Maybe, just maybe, if Buggy were a little stupider, he’d think that was Crocodile’s way of showing he cares, but he knows better by now.

A/N: An actual totally legitament picture of me walking out of the pits of hell to write and post this after disappearing witihout warning:

[animentality]

You ever think about the idea that Durge very likely has told Enver to his face that they will be the one to kill him in the end? You ever think about how that conversation went? Was it a factual statement of intent delivered passionlessly from one wicked being to another? Or was it a promise, bathed in desire to be the one holding the knife, parting his flesh, wedding them together in the Bhaalist way? Or perhaps, if you’d like a bit more angst, was it a tearful confession? A choked out plea for forgiveness, an explanation that their wants and desires matter not to their holy father. That they will one day wield their knife against their only friend, their only love, and there is nothing they can do to stop it. They will kill him, it is as certain as the sun rising, and the only difference is whether they do it willingly or not. I enjoy this last one because by extension, this means that Gortash would have to know his fate at the hands of his nearest and dearest and choose to stay by their side anyway. When his only chance for survival is to send them away or try to kill them, he makes the choice to either accept fate or plot to defy the gods rather than act in self preservation. If that’s not love I don’t know what is.

Anon, come with me and imagine...

The first time they said it, it was cold, emotionless. A statement of fact. And he smiled and said, of course you will. But perhaps I'll have crafted a strong enough leash for you by then.

And they speak no more of it.

The second time they said it, it was with great pleasure. Perhaps after a vicious argument, or even a thrilling victory, because they have always enjoyed killing, but never before have they gotten close enough to someone that the thrill of killing them was enhanced by their fondness for them. They are smitten when they say it the second time, but threatening to kill him is an intimate act, a shield, a flimsy facade, to mask the softer emotion rotting within them. And Gortash smiled and said, If I must be killed, I'd want it to be you.

And then.

The third time.

The third time would be the last time.

And that would be the time when the Dark Urge would say it with a tremble to their throat.

A hint of fear, uncertainty. Because they're in too deep.

They've fallen in love, and they know they can't do that.

They know their father expects too much of them. The end of the world, for one thing, and as many Bhaalspawn as they can make, with as many partners as possible. And the time is approaching. Their plan is reaching its culmination.

And they don't want to go through with it anymore. And they decide they won't go through with it.

And they will let their sister kill them.

Because they need Gortash to survive.

They want him to carry out their plan.

So they tell him they will kill him in the end...and it's not a threat, but a concern. It's a future they want to avoid. A prophecy that cannot be allowed to come true.

And thus, they allow themselves to die, so they won't have to be the one to do it.

They know he can survive Orin, the way he can't survive them.

It's just...a dark little irony...that when they survive their sister's murder attempt, and come back...

They fulfill that promise in the end, regardless.

Fate comes for us all.

Anyway, anon.

Thanks for the ask! I now must think about some things in my dark corner...

[accidentalspaceexplorer]

2024 Best Fantasy Romance: Paladin's Faith

That Paladin's Faith was my best fantasy romance of the year should be absolutely no surprise to anyone who has heard me talk about how much I love the Saint of Steel books. T. Kingfisher is more famous I think for either her horror or her short modern fairytale books, but the things I keep coming back to her for are her fantasy romances. I loved Swordheart, which got me started on Paladin's Grace, and then I made all my nearest and dearest read them because I wanted to be able to talk about them with people.

Each of the Saint of Steel books follows a different paladin struggling with the loss of their god, a thing that makes them both more dangerous to be around than they used to be and typically a hell of a lot more lost themselves. Paladin's Faith is about Shane, the pretty boy charismatic paladin who really, truly doesn't know what to do, and feels like he will always get it wrong no matter what he does. (Despite being extremely competent!) It's truly a joy to watch him fall in love with a spy who is also extremely competent but struggles to be taken seriously and to feel safe. (I'm not sharing her name, as it's slight spoilers for a different book in the series.) Their banter is fantastic, and the adventure they go on is so twisty and really digs into the overarching plot of the series, and complicates a lot of things that you've previously been told about how the world works. Which is one of my favorite things about Kingfisher's novels - her world is complicated and nuanced, and allows space for a lot of different things to be true at the same time. Plus she always gets the atmosphere just right.

I am so excited to see what she does next with the Saint of Steel books, and if you haven't tried them and you like romance, I'd really recommend them.

[captain-kit-adventuress]

I am indisputably from the Midwest. Right smack in the middle of it, in fact.

Call Ohio, Kansas, or Missouri "Midwestern" again and there will be blood.

See, here's the thing: it used to be taught properly. There were more regions than there are now. The Plains were very much their own thing, because they had both Western qualities and Midwestern qualities. I know people from Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, and know them well. They are not Midwestern, but they're not not, either. Anywhere south of Springfield, IL may as well be the South. I am making concessions on St Louis, because truly, Missouri is not the Midwest no matter how much people insist it is, but in the interest of not uselessly infighting, I will let it go. Ohio is a nether space that is neither one thing nor another. It's Ohio. One of my nearest and dearest is Ohioan, and believe me, Ohio is some sort of liminal space. Indiana is the Midwest, but it's like if a piece of the Midwest wanted to break off and join the South.

But then, people started conflating. They started to call it all "flyover country." Anything in the middle became "the Midwest." It's just not true and I'm tired of people acting like it is.

It used to be in the middle. Back before our country had 50 states or had even expanded much beyond the Mississippi River. It was the Middle West, not meaning "in the middle of the country," but "in the middle of what we consider the west; not east." It's no longer that, and you can't just expand it to include more states, because they developed in their own way with their own influences.

That first map is the closest, most accurate approximation I've ever seen (conceding, of course, St Louis). I will even allow in Ohio so long as we get the bottom half of Illinois out of there, and anything in Pennsylvania or New York.

The great secret is that the Midwest is not solely a place. It's a mindset, a people, a way of life. It's stark practicality mixed with a grimly dour outlook on life. It is making the best of things but making sure not to enjoy them along the way. It's being Catholic even if you're not Catholic at all. It's Friday fish fry and trips to the lake and bonfires the microsecond a chill crops up in the air (though that one may be more local than I think). It's the word "pop" with a wide, ear-splitting, so-up-the-nose-it's-practically-still-in-the-brain letter O you've ever heard in your entire life. It's being loud even when you're quiet and not even noticing. It's the land of supper clubs and cultural traditions that haven't been useful or cared about anywhere else since the '40s and '50s but dang it, we do not give up tradition–not because we like it, either, but because it's what we do. It's trudging through six feet of snow only to give way to 90° and humid, and insisting, with every laboured, dying breath, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity that gets ya." It's a certain dark humour that's hard to describe but I've rarely seen anywhere else. It's a lot of cool, progressive stuff hidden under the sheen of bland respectability and ugly coursed square rubble masonry in a shade that isn't beige but somehow conveys beige all the same. It's ope and puppy chow and rec rooms and basement panelling, and shag carpets and floral velour furniture "because it's still good!" and the land that time forgot because the people didn't quite move forward with it. It's in every "no, yeah," and "yeah, no" and you only take the second word because no one in America beats Midwesterners for linguistic segues.

But if you must define it as a place, you won't get much more accurate than the very first map.

Give me a map of the midwest how you imagine it, and don't just use state lines, show me how you think the cultural area of the midwest actually exists in the US

[vickyvicarious]

"We are all here together in freedom, for perhaps the last time! I know, dear; I know that you will always be with me to the end."

+

She looked appealingly to us all in turn, beginning and ending with her husband.

+

The faces of the others were set and Harker's grew ashen grey; perhaps he guessed better than any of us what was coming.

+

"...but what will you give to me?" She looked again questioningly, but this time avoided her husband's face. Quincey seemed to understand; he nodded, and her face lit up. "Then I shall tell you plainly what I want, for there must be no doubtful matter in this connection between us now. You must promise me, one and all—even you, my beloved husband—that, should the time come, you will kill me."

+

"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred and dear that, should the time ever come, I shall not flinch from the duty that you have set us. And I promise you, too, that I shall make all certain, for if I am only doubtful I shall take it that the time has come!"

"My true friend!" was all she could say amid her fast-falling tears, as, bending over, she kissed [Quincey's]hand.

"I swear the same, my dear Madam Mina!" said Van Helsing.

"And I!" said Lord Godalming, each of them in turn kneeling to her to take the oath. I followed, myself.

Then her husband turned to her wan-eyed and with a greenish pallor which subdued the snowy whiteness of his hair, and asked:—

"And must I, too, make such a promise, oh, my wife?"

"You too, my dearest," she said, with infinite yearning of pity in her voice and eyes. "You must not shrink. You are nearest and dearest and all the world to me; our souls are knit into one, for all life and all time. [...] And oh, my dear, if it is to be that I must meet death at any hand, let it be at the hand of him that loves me best. Dr. Van Helsing, I have not forgotten your mercy in poor Lucy's case to him who loved"—she stopped with a flying blush, and changed her phrase—"to him who had best right to give her peace. If that time shall come again, I look to you to make it a happy memory of my husband's life that it was his loving hand which set me free from the awful thrall upon me."

"Again I swear!" came the Professor's resonant voice.

+

"You, my dearest, will I hope read it, for then it will be in your voice in my memory for ever—come what may!"

"But oh, my dear one," he pleaded, "death is afar off from you."

"Nay," she said, holding up a warning hand. "I am deeper in death at this moment than if the weight of an earthly grave lay heavy upon me!"

"Oh, my wife, must I read it?" he said, before he began.

"It would comfort me, my husband!" was all she said; and he began to read when she had got the book ready.

JonMina tension throughout today. He knows what she's going to ask, he's been dreading and expecting this moment. And she knows what his reaction is going to be. For everyone else, their assent may be a difficult decision but she knows they will agree, knows even that they have done this before. But she's constantly focused on Jonathan throughout the buildup here. She's looking at him first and last, avoiding his eyes sometimes and directly appealing to him at others... meanwhile he's changing colors and groaning and obviously sick and miserable at the very idea of what she's asking.

And he never makes the promise.

Quincey does. Then Van Helsing, then Arthur, then Seward. Jonathan asks Mina if he has to do this, and then she gives him her speech about it which ends with asking Van Helsing to let Jonathan be the one to strike the blow, which Van Helsing agrees to. Jonathan stays silent.

Now, he does pull kind of the same move with her asking him right after to read her the Burial Service. He asks if it's really necessary rather than saying yes, but then does take it up and do it. So you could read this as Jonathan being obviously extremely reluctant to even consider Mina's death (but still willing to do the job if necessary) just like with that reading.

Or perhaps there is a reason Jonathan didn't feel he could write today's entry. Perhaps he couldn't put down on paper his decision to refuse Mina's request here, or at least his inability to acquiesce to it. Perhaps him never agreeing out loud was rather significant.

If he will always be with her till the end, if their souls are as one for all time, if he loves her best- how could he do this? The very language Mina uses to emphasize their relationship and his duty to help her (they do repeated countering of "oh my wife," "oh my husband," as well) may in fact be strengthening his conviction that he must accompany her down this dark path rather than stop her and leave them separated. Since Jonathan didn't write today's entry, it's left to our interpretation... at least for now.

[sombredancer]

How to fight your doom (Pt.2)

Episode 8 I think this and the next one episode are most important for development of Devil’s and Girl’s relationships. The story is filled with fateful accidents as well as interesting parallels and some of them we can see in this episode too. It’s funny that at the beginning of the story Girl IS in love with God of War and he IS in love with her. You may think: if their feelings are mutual, what can go wrong? But God of War is too afraid to go against his brother (although he is more powerful than all of the fairies together, as we can see in ep. 26) and too fixated on his duty to get this mutual love. He lies to his brother that he doesn’t like and even despises Girl. And Devil shows this scene to her. I love that it happens by accident: Devil sincerely doesn’t know about GoW’s affection, so he doesn’t have any intention to disrupt their relationships, he just forces her to face the truth (and he also believes it’s true), but it will matter to romantic feelings of hers for GoW later. At the same time it parallels with the future situation when Devil himself tells the same lie to her face and it breaks hers as well as his life. A lie destroys any relationships.

Devil starts to feel something other than Girl’s emotions and I love how he tries to find some rational explanations why it happens. If Devil’s heart hurts when he sees Girl as GoW’s bride, it’s because of Girl’s physical state. Not because Devil cares. No way! If he is angry when Girl praises GoW, it’s because of wicked effects of the curse. Not because Devil is jealous, no. And Dragon boy watches it all with the poker face: «Master, when are you going to force her to fix Destiny Book? Not today? She needs to sleep? Hmmm… OK».

Then there comes this ICONIC scene:

Girl tries to refrain from tears and Devil says that she shouldn’t pretend to be strong in front of him because he knows how she feels. He knows it, obviously, thanks to the curse, but Girl doesn’t know about it, so she thinks he is very empathic. Knowing how another feels is very intimate thing, only our nearest and dearest ones can say how do we feel just by looking at us and only in front of them we can be ourselves and don’t have to hide our weaknesses and pain. Devil doesn’t get even medium level of emotional intelligence by now but he is a VERY good learner, so he does some very empathetic and important for their relationships things: when she asks him, if he looks down on her like others do, he squats. He SQUATS to be on the SAME LEVEL with her! He is ben zuo, the higher God of Demons, he doesn’t need to do it at all, but he does.

And then he wipes her tears. This movement is raw and quite not gentle but, as we will see later, he even doesn’t know how to smile and how to show his affection to his relatives. Tears wiping is a big deal for him. And again: he doesn’t have to but he does.

And after that we can see EVEN MORE ICONIC SCENE:

Girl knows that he is a criminal who has broken free from the Fairy Prison and is a demon from the enemy tribe. But she has no prejudice against «enemy» tribe. Devil has done to her mostly good deeds (let’s put aside that attempt to strangle her at their «first date»). She is very compassionate and doesn’t want him to die because of other’s prejudice, so she grabs him and hides him beneath the Arbiter Hall, in the sea.

Devil is almighty and doesn’t need to be saved, so maybe in this moment he thinks that she tries to save her precious GoW from his Hellfire. When she is out of breath and slowly falls to the bottom of the sea, we can see another parallel, which shows us Devil’s changes.

Devil high above looks like in his battle against Fairy Realm 30 thousand years ago: we can see only his silhouette, he is very afar and out of reach, indifferent to lives and deaths of those who beneath him. I find this scene a little bit funny because we all know: he can’t be indifferent to Girl’s life anyway, he is cursed and if she suffocated so did he. So Mighty Demon God sighs and comes down to breathe life into Girl.

What I love in this story the most – we can think about «point of no return» when their affection starts, but, exactly like it goes in the real life, we can`t find the certain moment. Forging affection is a process, not a flash that pierced one’s heart right away. So, even forced to save her life, he is truly embarrassed when they are at the Arbiter Hall again, he touches his lips trying to understand his current emotions and the Spring starts in his Sea of Heart with the first tiny green leaf of feelings. He is quite affected. But his affection is fragile and ghostly by now.

And then this BEAUTIFUL scene comes:

"Little flower demon?!"

He wakes up. Somewhere. He was unconscious. He was knocked out by little, harmless and suspiciously nervous Girl. And he wakes up. He wasn’t poisoned to death. He wasn’t imprisoned. Everyone in this world wants him dead, he was short-sighted and could be already dead but he is still here. And Girl says that she knows he is enemy of her tribe, she knows how risky it is to send him away now, but she CARES about his safety, well-being, warmth and food and wants him to go back to the Demon Realm so no one could kill him.

Later, when he comes back, he learns that this 10% of soul recuperation couldn`t be proceeded not because of Girl`s unrequited love for GoW but because she really was worried about him.

This realization is very important for him as we can see later in this story. In his life Devil always was an enemy to be hated or a weapon to be relied on. But even almighty evil lords are just human beings deep in their hearts. If you are strong it doesn’t mean you don’t need to be cared, supported and loved. So this situation pushes him to rethink his life and his father’s teachings about affections. And in this scene he also learns how to show his attachment: later in Human Realm he will give to Girl food on the go as she in this boat scene does.

Btw there are plenty of stories when people fall in love with nice attitude towards them (and GoW is one of them), and I find it much healthier than to fall in love at first sight or with someone’s appearance. So, although Devil’s Tree of Seven Emotions will bloom far later, I think in this episode him falling in love with Girl starts to be inevitable.

Episodes 1-7 Episodes 9-13 Episodes 13-19 Episodes 20-26 Episodes 27-34

[radioaf-a]

Can Charlie believe her plan was actually working because they were somewhat talking to each other. “I won’t ask but look at you two you're actually starting to be somewhat honest so keep going!!!” She might be a little too excited about that fact. Alastor just finds himself shaking his head at her. 

“Oh I have plenty of other reasons to be upset with you like you do with me, I'm just trying to understand why you would pick him to talk to about the end of our marriage. The moth has never once been able to keep secrets for long after all.” Maybe he had kept both the ring and the wedding certificate to help remind him of what they once had.

He moves his cane so he can at least get the angelic spear out of his face, honestly it was somewhat distracting having it pointed right at him. “I thought it best if you thought that at least that way you had plausible deniability if anyone ever did find out.”  He dismissed the other with a wave of his hand. “Not that it really matters now since this is probably going to be the talk of the town before long.” 

The day really had been precept it was a very small affair with just their nearest and dearest there to witness it. Oh he remembered that broadcast after all too well that when he finds himself smiling fondly. “You always were my number one fan.” He chuckles then but there is a far off look in his eyes at the weight of those words.It was true Vox had known about him long before he had even got to hell what with studying his murders from when he was alive. Vox knew him better then even Rosie did so what changed between them? “You always gave me a hard time about the broadcast equipment I used and I always told you true classicals never die.” 

“I suppose I could have at least let you know about the fact that I returned. Well you don’t have to worry about a broadcast. I haven't had much time for them recently. I've only been back for a week” He started to  fiddle with his cane because this talking about feeling business was never something he was good at. Yes he really hadn’t been back he spent most of his time at the hotel sorting out his affairs and helping Charlie. “If it makes you feel better I haven’t even spoken to Rosie yet.” Yes he had been back seven whole days and not once had he been to Cannibal Town not of fear never that just he knew Rosie would have a lot questions that he just didn’t know how to answer yet. “If that's what you want I won't question it."

"No," Vox says, almost immediately as the offer is made. "That won't be necessary." No, no, better let that particular thing die. Angel knew, and therefore when he learned it only mattered in an academic sense, it didn't change anything.

"Mostly I meant it in a way that you can't be upset at me for telling. He knows just as well as I do we've never gotten a divorce." Alastor's awareness of the radio had been part of why Vox had kept one, but stored away. A reminder, maybe, of what he'd lost, of the enemy he'd gained. At first it had seemed like the logical approach, information gathering. And then Alastor had been gone and it stayed dormant.

Vox leans back, sliding the ring back into his pocket. "I thought the certificate had been destroyed!" He ignores the first question, because the truth was he didn't know. He'd never been willing to, the bits of red sparkling from the dark of his table drawer when he opened it. Did it matter that Alastor had kept it? It's like a bad joke or a cliche movie.

It's enough to make him smile, amused by the memory. Rosie had been there, and the poor man had seemingly been on the shaking edge of a break down the whole time, the generous check that Vox slid into his hands for services rendered barely enough to keep him from simply bolting out of the room at the thought of marrying two Overlords. He's certain somewhere he still has photos from the day. "I remember the broadcast the next day, you were at the station because I kept looking over like a lovesick fool,"

"I beat you? A complimentary way to describe leaving my screen cracked in four places." Truth be told, whatever he told Val and the masses, it had probably been closer to a draw. Vox gestures around them. "Well I wouldn't have made a fucking fool of myself for starters, might have had some time to consider what I was going to say instead of panicking with the knowledge of your eventual broadcast." And okay, maybe he's still not at his best, there's a headache pulsing somewhere in the back of his head, and an energy that's neither nervous nor lethargic trapped under his skin. "Just... forget it. I've posted my own broken screen on Voxtagram to keep Val from getting the first word, this isn't any different, and it didn't even work."

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 1

No, no ignore the smily face i assure you it means nothing foreboding, nothing foreboding at all.

Next >

---------

“It’s suspicious,” Marinette glares as they leave customs.

“What would that be, Mari?” Chloe yawns, not bothering to dedicate her limited remaining brain power apparently.

“Lila,” She whispers back, “She’s been so quiet all the way here,”

“What about how she weaseled her way into first class?” Chloe yawns again, sleep mask resting on her head.

“Or tried to steal your bag,” Kagami says with venom, her having saved Marinette from that disaster.

“Accused you of giving her the wrong flight time,” Adrien adds, somehow being full awake even after their long flight.

“Slipped metal into your pocket so security would go off,” Chloe downright glares at Adrien, but would never admit to the bags under her eyes.

“Came by and woke you up every time you fell asleep,” Kagami looks at her pointedly, shadows under her eyes being her only give away.

“Too quite,” Marinette whispers, the list going largely ignored as they approach the security scan.

“Just relax Mari,”  Adrien pats her shoulder, not enough to break her concentration, “Lila will be so distracted by being in Gotham she won't have time for you,”

Adrien was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

This is Lila they're talking about.

“Oh Marinette!” Lila all but yells as Marinette is placing her bag in a tray, “I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it,”

Marinette cringes, the security guards all looking her way as Lila dances off. She just sighs as she is escorted away by the airport security, to the protest of her friends and not much else.

“No sir I am not holding any firearms or weapons,” Marinette answers as monotone as possible, the security guard didn’t deserve her ire not matter how tiresome this was getting.

“We interview the source,” Oh no “Apparently you were discussing terrorist activities,”

“I was not sir, Lila must be mistaken,” Yep big mistake, I’m sure that's all it is , “I’m simply here for a class trip,”

“You’re wearing a bulletproof vest,”

Yeah probably should have left that one at home

“My parents are protective, they know how dangerous Gotham can be,” They were not fans of the horror stories Aunt Selina used to tell her from this city, “They insisted I have it as protection,”

While they most certainly wanted her to be safe the vest was more her idea. It was also more for enabling trouble than avoiding it. At least she was trying to be safe about secret crime fighting.

“Makes sense,” He sighs from across the table, checking through some paperwork, “You’re seventeen, here on a class trip right?”

“Yes sir,”

“Well if you’re here on a Wayne funded trip they probably did and extensive background check,” He pauses for a minute looking deep in thought, “Alright then, you can go,”

That seems kind of lax

“Are you sure?”

“We literally have super villains walking through here every other day,” True that, “You’re holding no weapons and have been endorsed by the Wayne's that's better than most people that have been in here,”

“Well if you’re sure,” Marinette stands awkwardly walking to the door as he waves her off, “Is there anything I need to sign, or…”

“Unless I want to fill out extra paperwork, no,” He seems so tired, Marinette wished she could get back at Lila for making his job harder.

“Have a good day then!” She smiles brightly, getting a small one in return.

She leaves, the security guards handing back her bag, fortunately not mentioning the miracle box or her Kwamis. She smiles brightly, even with Lila trying to ruin her trip she could still enjoy her time here in Gotham- and her phone buzzes with an Akuma alert.

With a sigh, Marinette ducks into the nearest bathroom, locking a stall behind her.

“Kaalki,” The Kwami zips out of her bag, “Tikki, Combine,”

With a flash of light followed by another she appears in Paris dropping Kaalki’s transformation.

She looks over the city, some Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower. At least they didn't seem to be the brainwashing type, she didn’t have Chat Noir there to help with crowd control.

With a flip she jumps, planning to kick the Akuma on the way down. They dodge and she lands in front of them instead.

“Well, well if it isn’t the bug,” The Akuma, in a horrible patch work costume mocks, a purple mask appearing over their face, “Hand over your miraculous!”

How about you come and make me Hawkmoth? I promise to stick that cane up your ass

Oh how she wishes she could say just that, but it wouldn't be very Ladybug of her. Why did the younger her have to have a stick up her butt?

“Not today Hawkmoth,” She says instead, making sure to put the practiced amount of enthusiasm into it, “Or any other day for that matter,”

“How are you going to save Paris without your little kitty cat?”

How are you going to beat me with that terrible fashion sense

Besides Chat Noir deserved a break. At least she hoped he was taking a break, he couldn’t tell because of secret identity reasons. It wasn't like she had any right to stop him, she was having a vacation in Gotham right now, and she was out all the time for work. She could manage without Chat for a while, he deserved that much.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect the people of Paris,” Ladybug remembers to answer the question.

“Hand over your miraculous now!” The Akuma lunges at her

I should have chosen a different persona

She dodges the beam of light that can’t mean anything good. Jumping back to get some distance.

Chat Noir had the right idea

She bites back the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue. Instead throw out her yo to wrap around their arm. The Akuma pulls it forward, sending her through the air. She leans into it swinging around to get a better vantage point, studying the monologuing Akuma below.

Maybe I can for Starling

She has created Starling as a vigilante identity to use in Gotham, if the class was ever in trouble. No not if, when . With a sigh she summons her lucky charm getting a table tennis paddle.

Although I’m only meant to use that identity as a disguise to protect the class

The only thing that stood out was the Akuma's hand, she'd have to gather more information before striking.

Maybe Starling can have a word or two with Lila, that could be fun

She drops down in front of the Akuma. They seemed to like monologuing, maybe all she had to do was probe a little bit.

“Why would you want to side with Hawkmoth?”

“This is my family's greatest heirloom it has been passed from generation to generation for centuries, some fool broke it and I was crushed having disappointed all my ancestors!” The Akuma holds up a broach type jewel, “But Hawkmoth- Hawkmoth brought it back and now my greatest and dearest treasure will forever be-”

Ladybug smacks it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

The Akuma looks at her shocked, letting out a long drawn out gasp. Marinette does not meet their eye as she catches the Akuma. She throws the paddle she used to smack it out of their hand into the air to cast the cure.

I must be really jet lagged, I’m usually at least a little more creative than that, but it worked

She pretends not to see the reporters coming in for interviews, seeing the victim and their broach in one piece. She makes a speedy exit, needing to transport back to Gotham before the class get too ancy.

“I’m sorry the rented bus left a long time ago,” The attendant informed her, looking sorry for the dishevelled teen.

Marinette groaned, so much for running around the airport for thirty minutes with a dead phone. Thanking the attendant she sulks off to collect her bag instead, she’d have to figure another way to the hotel.

She spends another hour hunting down her bag. Chasing after leads of people who might have mistook it. Checking again with Airport security, who again pulled her aside for having a suspicious missing bag. Luckily the security guard before defended her, she brought him a coffee and two for herself.

“Maybe someone will return it?” Tikki whispers, her and Kaalki hidden in the folds of her scarf.

“It’s fine Tikki,” Marinette sighs, halfway through her first cup in under a minute, “I have replicas of all of them anyway, I’ll just grab some samples from the MDC fashion show,”

She’d have to stop by later, the outfits should have been transported last week along with most of her recent catalogue. The only problem was all the other necessities she lost. But that wasn’t a problem, she carried the miracle box in her backpack and that's all that really matters.

“And some of my… special outfits when we go back home,”

She had altered her current outfit to transform into her vigilante disguise. Her scarf pulled up and could be turned inside out into a mask. Her skirt could be transformed into a cape and hood combo. A zip down the middle of the skirt to split it for the cape and a zip up hood that lay flat along her skirt. She simply turned it inside out and wore it around her shoulders. Combined with a bullet proof vest it wasn't half bad, her belt full of weapons could always be hid under her skirt which was a big plus.

She sighs waiting for a taxi in the cold Gotham air, hating it more than most. Although she supposed superhuman strength was a fair exchange for extra cold fingers. Marinette fought to stay awake, she had also been holding Kaalki for so long she was starting to develop the ability to sleep standing up and would doze off randomly. Certainly helpful at times, but not right now.

“Hello,” Marinette is startled out of her drowsiness.

She looks at the hesitant young man before her, looking just as tired as she is.

“Hello?”

“Is something the matter?” Something sparks at the back of her mind, a feeling she often gets from Chloe whenever she is helpful.

Do I look that bad?

“Just a mix up with transportation,” She smiles, he clearly knows it’s fake.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No I’m-” She sighs, what could go wrong getting in the car of a random person in Gotham, “Yes, I do thank you,”

“Over here, I’m Tim by the way” He stifles a yawn, leading her towards a limousine, the door being opened by a driver.

“Marinette, here,” She hands over the extra coffee, “You look like you need it just as much as me,”

Tim looks at her like a god sent, taking the coffee as they reach the limo.

“Good call Alfred,” Tim whispers to the driver, slipping into the car.

“Hello miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” She shakes his hand, something stronger fires at the back of her mind, a true holder perhaps? But Chloe was a true holder right?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She smiles, trying to assess what miraculous would suit him.

“Best get inside Miss Dupain-Cheng,” She climbs inside at Alfred's behest, “Gotham is awfully cold for a Lady,”

She gets the feeling that is not chivalry.

“Where to Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asks, already in the driver's seat.

“Wayne hotel please,” She pulls her backpack onto her lap, still regarding Alfred suspiciously.

“Traveling alone?” Tim asks absentmindedly, still nursing his coffee cup.

“I’m here with my class, they left without-” No that's no good , “I got held up they went ahead,”

“Class… staying at the Wayne hotel…” Tim mumbles to himself.

“I believe what Master Tim is trying to ask is if you are part of the Martha Wayne foundation trip,” Alfred informs from the front seat.

“Yeah that,” Tim takes another scalding gulp of coffee.

“Yes I sent in the submission, I’m still surprised we got it,” Marinette had been thrilled at a trip to Gotham, it is where her Aunt Selina lives after all.

“You seem very responsibility Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred complements, “Almost as if you could shoulder the weight of Paris,”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Marinette tenses getting more than a little unsettled, he seemed to know something more.

“Not to worry, I have close connections with the Wayne's and was aware this years class was from Paris is all,”

“I see,” Marinette nods along, the possible meaning behind the comment still being concerning.

“We forgot your bags!!!” Tim suddenly yells, jumping up and making Marinette jump, they both curse in sync as they spill coffee on themselves.

“It’s alright!” luckily the coffee landed on her black tights, so no noticeable stains, “My bags were stolen,”

“Oh…” Tim relaxes back, “Wait… that's not alright at all!”

“It’s fine, I already have a plan to get some spare clothes and I just need to run to the store,”

“Right… to the Wayne hotel was it?” Marinette nods and Tim starts tapping away at his phone.

She fishes out some wet wipes from her bag, passing them to Tim, who looks confused until she points out the growing coffee stain. With a smile and a few more taps at the phone he takes them off her.

“Left behind and bags stolen, doesn't sound like your Lucky day,” Alfred presses, and he needs to stop, it could be chance, surely its just chance.

“I guess not,”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Well I hope the rest of your day is much better,” Tim bids as they pull up to the hotel.

“Thank you, and thank you so much for the ride,” Alfred opens the door for her to get out.

“Not a problem,” She waves them off, watching them disappear down the street.

They’re nice, probably wont ever get to see them again, thats a shame

“Dick! Holy fuck!” Tim kicks down the door of his brothers room, “I just met the nicest girl who's had the shittest day on earth,”

“First of all welcome back, how was your trip?” Dick greets hanging from the ceiling as Tim takes his desk chair, “Second, what are you talking about?”

“Met a girl at the Airport who didn’t have a ride, she gave me coffee,”

“That's enough to buy your loyalty,” Dick grins, Tim flips him off.

“Listen, she's part of that Martha Wayne Foundation trip and her class left her at the Airport!”

“What?!” Dick drops from the ceiling onto his bed, “Thats so dangerous, especially in Gotham,”

“Right?! She even had her luggage stolen!” Tim pushes the chair over to Dick, “And she was still so nice, even after an eight hour flight!”

“You said she was part of the Wayne foundation trip?” Dick asks, getting a nod from Tim, “Yeah, we are definitely seeing her again,”

[local-ground-apple]

quixotic

Inspired by @tri3tri​ and her amazing yandere Malleus series

warnings: malleus is yandere, but nothing explicit is here, 

quixotic - extravagantly chivalrous or romantic, visionary

perhaps the only way to escape Malleus’ suffocating grip was to fall into eternal slumber

,,Why don’t you stop being so childish as well as rebellious and simply accept your dearest lover? It’s not like you will ever escape, Little One”

Lilia’s sultry tone, as well as his hands resting on your shoulders in almost bruising matter

You gulped, feeling his fangs graze skin, which usually served as a warning. A shiver involuntarily run down your spine, as your fists only clenched.

,,We will see, Mr. Vanrouge”

Your seemingly confident voice faltered slightly and your lips gritted in thin line were only a façade. Your eyes full of uncertainty and fear told him otherwise. Even you were beginning not to believe your own words. Lilia only chuckled, clearly amused by your reactions. His gaze lingered on you for a longer moment, before he leaned in. His warm breath slightly tickling your skin, as his sharp teeth playfully bit your earlobe.

,,I would suggest you not to pull any stunt, while we will be away on diplomatic travel. I’d hate to hurt you”

A sadistic smile spread on his lips, as his crimson eyes glowed slightly. Your breath quickened, as you knew Lilia hadn’t finished yet. His voice stopped, as if he was recollecting his thought, yet you were aware what he was doing. Building a tension, so you would be more scared.

,,I’d hate to hurt you both”

Lilia put the emphasis on the last word, as he whispered it, knocking the breath out of your throat. Dread adorned your face, when a sudden wave of realization washed over you.

He knew.

He knew, he knew, he knew, that could only mean that Malleus knew too, panicked thoughts flooded your mind, yet you only bit your lip, looking defiantly at Lilia. He only chuckled and you could tell that he was enjoying despair written all over your face.

,,I must admit, you two did a rather excellent job hiding, yet I don’t appreciate how, hmm, you tainted his loyalty. Now, Miss Y/N, I expect you know what to do, unless you wish for Malleus to become aware of this.”

Catching a brief glance over your terrified form, Lilia bowed slightly and turned swiftly on his heel.

 ,,He knows”

,,He knows what?”

,,I’m not sure, he didn’t specify. He just suggested that we don’t try anything during his absence”

You whispered and Silver frowned. You glanced nervously around the room you had been locked in for past few months, since Malleus had forcefully put you there, depriving you from any contact with outside world apart from his fellow companions.

Who knew, maybe walls had ears.

If a wave of nervousness or anxiety washed over Silver, you couldn’t tell.

 His collected façade never faltered. He gently set the trail of teapot and teacups on the table next to you and took a nearest seat. You could hear door locking behind him and you could only pray Lilia wasn’t eavesdropping. 

Malleus was gracious enough to sometimes send one of his guards to keep you company. Perhaps that was his biggest mistake. 

Three of them rotated and you never knew who would come visit you every two days. Sebek was always lecturing you and scolding for your “outrageous behavior”, always telling you to finally respect and love his Young Lord. You dreaded moments when the door opened to reveal Lilia, you could never grow accustomed to that fae.

Silver on the other hand…

,,It doesn’t matter whether he knows or not, Y/N. I’m pretty sure I can take Sebek down, if anything happens”

His calm whisper didn’t soothe your worries. You slightly jumped when cold hand gently intertwined with yours and gripped it lightly. Silver never showed you any form of affection. 

Never, too worried that you might be caught. Yet, his soft touch seemed to slowly alleviate the tension from your muscles.

,,Do you think he misplaced it?”

You nervously glanced at the door, expecting it to burst open any time soon. The closer it was to Malleus’ and Lilia’s diplomatic trip, the more paranoid you were becoming and you couldn’t deny that fact. It was easy hiding it before Malleus, who seemed too fixated on you, to even notice your behavior was slightly off. He was simply elated to see you not screaming or running at the mere sight of him. 

Yet, you knew that you failed to keep your façade in front of Lilia. You could always feel his lingering gaze on you, carefully watching your figure looking for any tiniest traces. He noticed how you were more eager than usual to head to your bed, how you began falling asleep earlier than usual.

Were you perhaps walking with someone in your dreams?

Lilia seemed to know, yet he allowed this. He sent Silver to guard you more often than Sebek, let him introduce you to all fae traditions you should be aware of, bah, he even didn’t mention to Malleus how he had spotted you getting way too comfortable to his Lord’s liking.

Yet, you knew Lilia didn’t do it out of pity or affection towards his son.

No, he was callous.

He would let this young love bloom, crush it and then watch it wither.

,,I highly doubt it, we’ve never talked about it outside our dreams”

You nodded, not even touching your tea which was slowly growing cold with each passing second.

Silver seemed to be hesitant. He knew exactly what Lilia was doing. He was giving him a bit of time to make the wise decision. To ignore feelings he had developed for you and be loyal to his future king. He furrowed his eyebrows.

Silver knew that Lilia wasn’t giving him time, because he cared for him.

No.

He knew that ancient fae would love to experience moving, heartbreaking scene of separating lovers. Maybe that would finally make you realize, that even your heart couldn’t escape from Malleus’ suffocating grasp.

Silver unconsciously gripped the handle of his sword as he watched Lilia calmly discussing the details and arrangements of their diplomatic trip. He could feel old man’s gaze lingering to him every once in a while, as his crimson eyes gave him the knowing look. Silver was surprised that Lilia hadn’t told anything to Malleus, but then each time he saw young king mentioning you as his eyes were filled with nothing but undying obsession, he knew dragon fae was delusional.

He would notice your silent affection for Silver, only if you displayed it right in front of him. Even then, he would deny it. 

,,Are you sure we can leave Y/N here?”

Malleus’ calm yet slightly worried voice brought Silver’s attention on him once again. In the corner of his eye, he could faintly see Lilia’s wide grin, as his hands rested underneath his chin in almost mocking matter.

,,Of course, I’m sure Sebek and especially Silver will make sure Miss Y/N doesn’t do anything stupid”

Lilia’s playful tone hid the pure amusement and threat that was audible only to Silver, who with each passing second had troubles keeping up with his façade.

Could he really betray two faes who raised him and gave him everything?

Who he swore to serve and protect?

Lilia’s mocking smile told him that he absolutely wasn’t capable of doing that.

,,It’s…It’s impossible”

Malleus’ voice was filled with shock and disbelief as he stared at you. His eyes widen, while the wave of anger slowly washed over his body.

He failed to notice Lilia’s titled head, looking as if he was somewhat proud. 

Mayhap, that wasn’t a truly fitting word. 

Lilia was stunned and impressed with your unconvencial methode to escape Malleus’ grasp. Silver truly made him think they were preparing for a regular escape, with the amount of stuff he had been stocking in his room. He let a suppressed laugh. Perhaps, the situation wasn’t under his control, as Lilia had previously thought. 

You managed to surprise the ancient fae, who was convinced he had seen everything. 

You laid on the floor sound asleep in eternal slumber. Your hair adorned your face, your rosy lips were lifted in a soft, elated smile, yet Malleus could see a victorious tone in it, almost mocking him. You reminded him of the small smiles Lilia was sending you way, whenever you had failed to escape him. 

Your index finger was pricked and a small trail of crimson blood was smeared all over it. Your pinky finger was gently intertwined with Silver’s who laid beside you. A gentle smile adorned his face, as few loose strands of his hair fall on his closed eyelids.

Malleus could almost hear your mocking tone and victorious smile. “I told you, I would escape you, echoed in his mind, as he stared at your form in disbelief.

You did it. You escaped him, as you promised.

Yet, Malleus couldn’t comprehend why Silver had pricked his finger too. Or maybe he simply didn’t allow this thought to enter his mind, yet deep down inside he knew why. He just pushed that thought aside, trying to ignore it.

It can’t be true.

Yet, your even breath and closed eyelids told him otherwise.

,,Why did Silver prick his finger as well?”

Malleus turned around to finally face amused Lilia and enraged Sebek.

,,Simply Malleus”

Lilia started, crunching down to his asleep son. He gently brushed the loose strands of his hair, tucking them behind his ears in almost caring matter. With a deep sigh, he looked at you.

,,Silver is her true love and without his kiss we won’t be able to wake Miss Y/N”

[writefightandflightclub]

Hey Luna 👋🏻 idk if this is what you were thinking of, but maybe could you do a headcanon for the Oscar boys and if they won the lottery? Like, how would they react? What would they do with the money? I’m really interesting in what you think 🤔 thank you!!!

Hi Anon! This is a fun one - thanks for sending! 😁🧡🙏

I did the Oscars who first came to mind for this scenario, but if I missed anyone you were really keen to see drop me another ask! 😁

See below for Poe, Nathan, Llewyn, Santiago, & Richard winning the Lottery! 🧡

Poe Dameron

When Poe wins an intergalactic lottery, he’s told by his benefactor he can now make his “wildest dreams come true”. Well, Poe dreams most of all, of winning the war. While it is a “wild” dream indeed, making it come true is a different matter altogether, and victory comes at too high a price for that to come to fruition. However, save for a little treat for his dad, Kes, Poe does his best to end this fight. He gives every single newly-won credit to the Resistance. After all, the Resistance having more resources is the closest he can bring things towards ending all of this. Why would he keep all of his money set aside for his retirement as his friends died around him? If his chances of making it to retirement decrease with every panel which falls off his under-resourced X-Wing? So, to the rebels it goes, paying for repairs and weapons and fuel and intel and medical supplies and even enough for some morale boosting fire whiskey. However, upon seeing what Poe has done, and yet another personal sacrifice he has made for the cause, Leia’s heart breaks for the kid. So, she sets just a little bit aside for her best pilot, and arranges a surprise day off for him, with some of his nearest and dearest. It’s nothing extravagant, of course. It’s a day’s layover on a sunny, beachy planet, with simple, hearty drinks and food. Alongside Poe his squad and closest comrades from base spend the day swimming and splashing in the water, laughing and embracing and forgetting the war. For one day, even if only for one day, it really does feel as though the war is over, and as Poe leans back on his towel, shirtless and smiling and glowing under the sun in more ways than one, he watches his friends enjoy this rare joy. He may have given it all away, but today, with his real treasures beside him, Poe truly feels like the richest man alive.

Nathan Bateman

Nathan probably bought a lottery ticket to make a point. To prove to you wrong, of course. “The statistics speak for themselves, honey. The chances of winning big are vanishingly small. You’d have to be an idiot to gamble on this.” Yes, Nathan prefers to create his own luck, and with that giant brain of his, he can. He prefers the certainty of business acumen and planning to a gamble. What he isn’t expecting though, is to defy the odds in a whole new way and actually win the jackpot. After the draw, he looks at the numbers on screen, his jaw agape as he compares them to the paper ticket in his hand. He even looks smug, and although he doesn’t believe in the “universe” granting people things, for a second he is caught in his arrogance wondering if this is because he deserves it, somehow. However, as his next thought, rather than being consumed with delight as most people would be, Nathan is overcome with something else entirely. An overwhelming desire not to be proven wrong. So, instead, as he hears your footsteps approach he tears up the ticket and hurriedly disposes of it in the trash can under his desk. Come on. It’s not as though he needs the money anyway, is it? Besides, to Nathan, in this case, his ego and pride are far more valuable than the money, and he certainly doesn’t want to increase his bank balance further if it comes at the expense of being right. “Any luck?” you ask casually, knowing the numbers have been drawn by now. His calculating eyes fall on you. Nathan won’t lie to you - not exactly. But he will happily engage in some misdirection, and so, he draws you into his lap and tells you, in a tone which fails to conceal how he hates the words even as he says them- he must have used up all his luck when he met you. You chuckle into his neck and tease him fondly, telling him that yes, in fact; it was against all the odds that he found someone who would tolerate him the way that you do. He really must have hit the jackpot.

Llewyn Davis

Oh, Llewyn. He’d stared at the ticket for so long in the diner he had the numbers memorised, like a code he could punch in somewhere to unlock a new life. A life he couldn’t even envisage, but one he knew would be far removed from this constant, draining, repeating cycle of couch surfing and lucklessness. So, as he sits in his boxers watching the numbers be drawn on the TV, from the vantage point of your couch -the remainder of his clothes tumbling in the machine- he stands in shock and ecstasy as the numbers stacking up on the screen mirror that very same life-changing code on his little piece of paper. In a haze, his heart hammering and his curls flopping animatedly over his forehead, he pats his bare chest and boxers where his pockets would be if he were fully clothed. Then, with abject horror, but little surprise - he’s more than used to lucklessness by now- he zooms towards the washing machine, where the jacket he stashed the ticket in is spinning in sea of frothy water. You enter then, to find him crouched on the floor, hands pressed against the drum, and his crown of curls resting dejectedly against the glass. “Llewyn? Everything okay?”. He can barely look up at you, but he does tug in a deep breath. “Angel?” he says tautly. “You didn’t happen to clean out my pockets before doing the laundry did you?” You hum, thinking on it as you busy about, not realising the significance. “The usual place, Llew. Your tray of trinkets is on top of the refrigerator. You know I have to do it- all your loose coins and plectrums play havoc with the pipes.” He surges up. He faces you, his jaw falling open but he doesn’t dare to hope. Not until he sees the crisp square of paper resting safely on the trinket tray. He doesn’t even pick it up, but he does turn towards you. “Angel, I could kiss you.” And he does kiss you. Repeatedly. He has money now, and for once he finally feels worthy of you. He finally feels good enough to kiss you, and to take you out to dinner. That alone is a huge win for him, never mind all this money will mean. Around you, Llewyn has never quite believed his luck. And so, it may take Llewyn a while to get his shit together, but he finally bucks his ideas up, one thing at a time. He gets a new pair of shoes without holes. He gets some decent food in his belly. He gets some studio time to lay down some new tracks. He finally buys a place of his own. In time, he even sets up his own label, supporting a diverse range of artists to forge their careers. But most importantly, Llewyn has a thing money cannot buy. He always knew you were his guardian Angel, but now, after all you’ve done for him, he can finally look after you.

Santiago Garcia

Santiago learned a thing or two about greed after that little incident with Lorea’s money. Since then, he’s had plenty of time to reflect on what he would really do with a pot that size - if he ever ended up with a stash he didn’t need to give away or secret down the arse crack of a mountain, that is. Now, his dreams are smaller and simpler. Helping his family comes first of course- and that includes the Boys and their kids too. He probably makes some donation to help under-served veteran causes too. But don’t get me wrong- his generosity has limits, and he makes sure he has plenty leftover for himself this time around. First, he pays for surgery on his neck to fix that botched job. His knees come next. Then, he travels. He sees the world as a citizen rather than as a soldier, and with that he sees a whole lot more besides. He sees what he wants out of life. So, maybe he moves around until he figures out what he’s looking for now that his days of running and gunning are finally over. And eventually, he returns to the one place he can’t stop thinking of. He sets himself up with a house of his own. A new truck. Maybe buys his own bar. Something on a beach. And, best of all, this soldier of war finally feels a semblance of peace. They say money can’t buy happiness, but holy shit. For Santi, it certainly helps him to see the world, and along the way, to see himself differently. Especially when he meets someone on his travels who makes him believe that maybe, just maybe, he does deserve to feel happy after all. And that feeling is a sweeter thing than money could buy.

Richard Alonso Muñoz

Richard has always known the value of a good deed, and how even though kindness is free, the result is priceless. He certainly doesn’t measure success in monetary terms, and he prioritises other riches in life: simple pleasures like family and food and walks on the beach and a night spent with a good movie. However, there are some things money can buy. He puts a little away for retirement or for emergencies, being eminently sensible, as ever, and he makes some cautious investments. He showers you with presents and makes every single dream of yours come true - at least every one he possibly can (he can finally afford that engagement ring he has had his eye on too). In fact, although you are his first thought, Richard’s generosity extends to as many people around him as he can touch. He donates a lot to charity, and, of course, he does everything in his power to support the inmates at his facility. When he realises that whilst his generosity knows no bounds, the money is finite, he begins to wish he could do something longer-term. That’s when he uses a lump sum to set up his own charity. It’s a steep learning curve, but everyone Richard has helped over the years comes together to help him out. It’s a small venture at first but with every chance to grow, and he finally gets that arts programme for the inmates going. If he does allow just a few small indulgences for himself though (at your behest) it’s flying to visit family, and seeing home again. If you can convince him of a few additional luxuries too, he might upgrade his grill in the yard for those neighbourhood BBQs, pamper himself with a hot towel shave, splurge on some local gourmet take-outs, and maybe even treat himself to a new car radio or a bowling shirt. He’s not one for material possessions or personal riches (it’s just not ethical to hoard when so many are in need, he believes), even if this man does have a veritable heart of gold.

[caramelcuniculus]

"I know you wouldn't. It probably helps that this loving vampire here is my nearest and dearest friend, eh?" Desmond tried to play coy again, a bit of a smirk there, but her gaze looked down upon the vampire's finger gently poking into her chest. Her shoulders also readjusted themselves into the fixed blanket, one the two of them now shared. It was peaceful, all of this. It really was surprising that they were able to fall back into things like this so quickly. This just went to prove that no matter what, some bonds simply never died. Even when the world did around them, connections stayed. It was a beautiful thing, and the archaeologist hoped the antiquarian acknowledged it as much as she did.

It appeared he did, as Simon slowly moved to his side. This was full-on cuddling if he'd ever seen it, with the vampire even moving his hand down to better support him on his shoulder. Desmond tried to recall the last time he'd been this close with someone else, determining that he couldn't pick any examples prior to the war. Ever since then, he'd been entirely alone. The archaeologist managed to get used to it as best as he could, but there was something that'd always stick with you about your family being ripped away from you because of things out of your control. It was devastating, but he couldn't do much now but keep surviving with what little he had. Right now, he had more than he ever did prior, and he even had another warm presence beside him. There was one absent on his other side, but maybe, just maybe, something else could fill in that void. In his own, twisted mind, he could have them all.

Desmond didn't protest to the antiquarian cuddling up fully like a cat. They didn't move much, either. All they'd done was silently take more sips out from their drink, resting their eyes as they felt the liquid go down their throat. Warm and comfortable and safe… They'd give their thanks again, but they feel they'd exhaust it the more they went on and on about Simon's hospitality. Not that it made it any less true, but maybe their slight snuggling spoke louder than words. Both of their, well, everything, spoke louder than words.

Red eyes opened themselves again when the vampire cozily yawned. What a pretty noise. Her head turned back to gaze into his eyes gently. "You're alright," she softly spoke, chuckling a bit. "There's a certain charm to being serene enough to almost fall asleep on me. I can't help but say I'm rather honored." Desmond began to wonder if Simon found himself under the same circumstances; the loss of both loves. She wasn't going to ask, as the lack of her mention answered the question before he ever could. Thoughts began to simmer in her head; was this right? Or were they two lonely, foolish friends who had no damns left to give in a world that took away everything but put them back together? Desmond nuzzled slow and carefully into Simon's head.

"I feel almost perfect here with you, but outside of this apartment, I've been… okay." He didn't even believe the vampires had it out the best in this world either. Simon's previous traders must've looked similar to himself: worn and ragged. Still, saying everything was okay was better than not. "I've developed a knack of hunting as of late. Game is my main source of food, alongside elevated vegetables I'll find elsewhere. Alongside hunting, I've been living a nomadic lifestyle. If you hadn't found me when you did, our paths may have never crossed again. I'm not one to return to the same place twice."

Their body relaxed into Simon's embrace. Their red eyes seemed… dreamy? No damns left to give. "I've never felt so safe in my entire life. That must be hard to believe, but right now, when you need some sort of security most, right here, I've been the most protected." Desmond let out a warm sigh. "You tempt me, Simon Petrikov. You almost make me want to never leave."

A pain-infused noise expelled from her stomach, making her wince. "I'm- I'm sorry." The archaeologist quickly moved away from Simon so that she could put her water down and grab the remaining carrot slices. She stared at them for a few seconds before tipping the plate above her mouth, having all pieces drop into her mouth. A swallow, and the plate was set back on the table. She turned back to Simon's side right after, practically sinking into his embrace. Desmond didn't look at him, but kept herself huddled into his side.

Cute vegetable pieces, cute mannerisms, cute Simon… Maybe they couldn't ask for anything more. The archaeologist's prior worry of being pampered had fully rid itself now, now basking in all the comfort his best friend was providing them. Somehow, this felt a little more than what friends should be giving one another, but the two of them have always had a complicated, yet dynamic relationship. It wasn't like they stuck to any sort of tradition anyways. Otherwise, they might as well have never met to begin with. Or at the very least, not in the same ways. Desmond was glad with what they had with Simon, even if the thoughts occasionally came back and caused them to feel bashful. As long as the vampire kept staying happy, they were happy, too.

Before she knew it, Simon was once again back from the kitchen. Desmond looked at the two items in his hands; a chalice and… carrots. She assumed wine was in the cup, meaning the slices were what her eyes stared daggers into. She could feel another pain within her gut coming on, but she didn't want to press it if these were more pieces to be added to the stew. They weren't. As Simon sat both products down on the end table, the archaeologist couldn't help but give the antiquarian a semi-desperate look. She was so thirsty, so hungry… Her eyes could tell that, could they now? Doesn't he know how much she--

Simon pat the spot on the sofa in-between the meal and himself. Desmond immediately pulled the blanket off himself and gripped onto it tightly with one of his hands. "You don't have to tell me twice." Almost instantaneously, the archaeologist was sitting next to the vampire. He wrapped the blanket slightly around himself again, albeit a rushed and messy attempt. There were bigger fish to fry, and that were the wine and… Oh. Oh! That wasn't wine at all! It was old reliable: water. He could care less where it came from, just the fact that he now miraculously had both the water and slices in his possession. What a speedy scientist this was!

Desmond turned and blinked at the antiquarian once, twice, then turned their head back to the chalice. They raised it to their lips and practically drank half of it then and there. When they pulled it back, they were panting, but relief shimmered on their face. "What wonderfully rich water…" And then they decided to begin eating some of the carrot slices. Just one second of the vegetable being on their tongue and they already felt like they'd died and somehow came back to life. A dramatically loud hum mellowed from their chest as two more were plopped inside their mouth. "And delectable carrots, too! If this is only a mere portion of the stew you have for me… this may be the best meal I've ever had!" Now, right now. Simon's meal was going to put everybody and everything else out of business. No one else could prepare ingredients so carefully rich like the vampire did. It was almost like its own sort of miracle, along with a pinch of irony in the fact that Simon couldn't even have any. All for them…

Most of the slices were gone and the plate went back to sitting up top the sofa-side table. For now, the archaeologist had fallen into some sort of melancholic trance, staring down at her slight reflection from the water in the chalice. Both her hands held at the handle, keeping it well-placed on her lap. Just like the carrots she'd put off to the side, Desmond couldn't exhaust all her newly found resources immediately. She needed to savor all this while she had it. Savor everything. Savor… Simon. Desmond smiled as she leaned against the antiquarian's side, somewhat cuddling into his embrace. It wasn't a lot, barely noticeable, but the slight movements were there. She sighed.

"You're the most compassionate being I've ran into in all these… years." Did they deserve this? All of this? It concerned them. Not on Simon's behalf, but on their own. Had they really done enough for him in the past to warrant such generosity? "I don't know what I'd be doing if you hadn't found me. Fending off a less-loving vampire?" The word spelt itself out, but it wasn't like it wasn't true. "No, I would take this over most days in my life. I truly do mean it, Petry. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

How many times did he have to repeat himself? Endless amounts, because nothing in the world could truly ever repay the selflessness of Simon Petrikov. Unless there was something he wanted most in the whole-wide remains of the world.

. . .

"You'll be feeding on that soon enough though, huh? Of course not… exactly, but blood pumps from the heart."

[orsuliya]

Something that came up while I readin one of the asks. Do you think XQ knew abt SHE's crush/obsession with Awu before the final stand off? If yes, when do you think he found out and why did he never address it? Thanks in advance for your response!

Oh, he knew alright. That lovely conversation near the beginning of episode 36. was anything but subtle. Why have you been visiting the Princess so often lately, Huaien? Are you sure you go there to see Yuxiu and nobody else, hmmm? Could you sound any less enthusiastic when speaking of your supposed love interest? Saving the Princess is a great deed, but shouldn't one of Yuxiu's other qualities come to your mind first? Like her kindness or her smile maybe? Don't you think you've been distancing yourself from me, Huaien? There is something you're trying to hide...

Now, not all of those questions were asked out loud. Some of them were just strongly implied. It was an interrogation, okay? One which Huaien failed completely, not only with his words, but also with his behaviour. You can smell the guilt on him from miles away and Xiao Qi is neither a fool nor blind. He allows Huaien to stumble around, trying to find the right words, all the while watching him closely. Very, very closely.

And once he has seen enough - and once Song Huaien is all too ready to confess... something - Xiao Qi stops that confession dead in its tracks. He really doesn't want to know. He doesn't need to. It's all on Huaien's conscience; it's his heart, his life, his choices. The only thing Xiao Qi hopes for is that Song Huaien stays true to himself.

You've asked why there was no intervention on Xiao Qi's part. Well, that was an intervention, right there in episode 36. And a rather direct one too, for all that we heard no accusation. There wouldn't have been one anyway; slinging jealous, angry words around is not how Xiao Qi deals with men sniffing around his wife, even when they're not his nearest and dearest. Remember his reaction to Song Huaien's warning that Zitan hasn't gotten over Awu? How did it go again? Ah. "What will be will be." That's either zen as all hell or somebody is one hundred percent sure of his wife.

And that was with Zitan, Awu's first love. This is Song Huaien, his littlest Ningshuo bro! Of course he's going to leave the matter to his conscience; when has he ever brought pressure to bear on one of his own?

One question remains: when did Xiao Qi first come to suspect Song Huaien of nursing a tendre for Awu? I daresay he wasn't completely sure or rather steadfastly refused to pass any judgements before hearing it from the horse's own mouth, so to speak. But when did that first niggle of suspicion appear in his mind? Perhaps as early as Huizhou; there is something very peculiar about the way Xiao Qi looks at Song Huaien as his troops start to move out. Perhaps a tad later; I wouldn't be surprised if something slipped out after Xiao Qi rescued his little bro from torture, especially as Song Huaien's last thoughts before losing consciousness (?) were about failing Awu. Maybe it was during one of Awu's health crisises and maybe during her abscence from the manor. It's not like Song Huaien is subtle; his tone of voice in episode 32. as he says that there is nobody who knows the truth about the relationship between Awu and Xiao Qi better than he/the Ningshuo guys is mightily suspicious. No, I am afraid it's impossible to pin down the exact moment Xiao Qi realized something was up with Song Huaien's regard for Awu. One thing is clear - he didn't go into that conversation at the beginning of episode 36. blind or unprepared.

[ask-lostnfound]

Hey there! Mod Marshii here. I took a hiatus that ended up being a lot longer than I would have ever liked it to be. But I’m here now, and I’d like to clear up some things. First off, let me explain something.

Connor, over at @ask-elliotgang, has been my nearest and dearest friend for over four years now. We’re close to the point that we call each other brothers, and his mother herself has practically adopted me at this point. Connor has been with me through the lowest points of my life and supported me, and celebrated with me when I hit those incredible highs. I could never have asked for a better brother and friend than him.

We met when I was 17, and he was around 13 (if I’m doing my math right.) We were in a completely different fandom, running different ask blogs. And he helped me escape the person who hurt me most in my life. My groomer, who I’d been with for 6 years at that point. I won’t get into details, since it’s still deeply traumatic to me and is something I haven’t even been able to verbalize in therapy yet, but I was at the lowest point I’d ever been. Were it not for Connor and those other friends believing me over my groomer and helping me break away from him, I wouldn’t have been able to escape and become the happy, free thinking person I am now. Years went by, and friends came and went, but Connor stuck by me no matter what.

So you can imagine my shock and horror when some time ago, I began getting anons in my askbox accusing me of grooming Connor.

I felt sickened to the core getting these anons. Someone accusing me of doing the same thing my worst abuser did to someone I care for so incredibly deeply was absolutely horrifying to me. I blocked them, hoping they would go away. They didn’t. From what I know, they were basing their claims entirely off of me being an adult and Connor being a minor. Why?

Because there was no other evidence. They hadn’t even talked to Connor himself to even try and get any. Because there never was any evidence to begin with.

I’ve talked to Connor, Ash, and several other friends, asking them if they saw the way me and Connor interacted as predatory on my end. They all said no, and were dumbfounded as to why I would even ask that. When I revealed the anons I’d gotten to them, they were shocked and appalled. The accusations were baseless. Connor himself was infuriated at people putting words in his mouth. 

With his permission, I began talking about the problem in a public server. Everyone was incredibly supportive, uplifting me and assuring me that these claims were baseless. Still, I was planning to leave the fandom. I was horrified that people actually thought this was true. And that if I remained, not only would I get attacked, but they’d begin to attack people I cared about as well just for associating with me. I could care less of them bombarding me, but the thought of my friends getting attacked made me sick.

But after a lot of time, and talking to my therapist and friends about the issue, I’m done cowering in the corner. I’m done running away from this problem. I’m not leaving. 

From now on, the anon function will be off. If these anons want to continue sending these accusations, they’ll have to do it without hiding behind their masks. I’m also going to be very careful with who I interact with from now on for my own mental stability, and unfollowing a ton of people. If I unfollow you, it’s not because you’ve done anything wrong, or because I dislike you. I’m just trying to stick to people I know very well from now on for my own safety. People I unfollow are welcome to continue following me and reading Burger’s story, as well as the stories of my other blogs. 

And to the anons. Like I said, you’re welcome to come into my askbox. This time, masks are not an option. If you want to say things like that, you’ll say it to my face. I’m not going to play nice with people like you any longer.

Thank you to all my friends who uplifted me. You proved to me that no matter how much people that don’t like me try to demonize me and chase me out, you’ll stand by me. 

I’m not a groomer. I’m not an abuser. I’m nothing like the people who have hurt me.

I’m strong, and I’m still here. I’m more than those people will ever be. And most of all...

I’m home.