#i would apologise but. no. sewing talk makes me happy so!

[bismuthburnsblue]

ok so!!! i revisited my work from yesterday, going in and properly blocking out the style lines and strap (still up for change as i get into better fabrics but this is a lot more representative of what they would actually look like now!) (though i am noticing ive set my hemline lower- even extending it on nora, when anne's is quite high, so ill have to see how comfortable i feel with that)

i also took a bit out of the hips on the ally pattern which definitely helped with the shape (i was really just being lazy not doing this, ive used this pattern before and had to do that, i knew it was gonna be an issue)

Theres more notes on my personal thoughts on both patterns below the cut :)

same cw's as before for body image stuff :) (maybe this is silly but i just feel far more comfortable putting warnings + a readmore for corsetry)

(also! i will be doing a post properly introducing this project soon :) ive got a lot i want to say!!)

First up! both of these patterns are by Aranea Black, pdfs of these patterns are still available online but her website is gone now)

Ally is a 6 panel corset with extreme hip spring- heres what the pattern looks like:

i do think the hip spring gives a really dramatic shape, but i do worry that with my upholstery weight faux leather, it just wont sit nicely. on this mock up i had to slit my entire seam allowance at the waist to make it not tuck too badly, and that means cutting my boning channel in half (i think, still deciding details like that) i cant really afford to waste fabric recutting panels if i sew it and it does tuck, either.

(Technically i do have the option available to me to do a twin stitch like Anne's original corset actually has, but this wouldnt be traditional, and wasnt in my plan (even if i wasnt gonna have the bones in the leather layer, i like the /look/ of felled channels on the outside.) a twin stitch however would probably negate most the tucking on the waist point, as it opens it up rather than folding to one side.)

Secondly, the one gripe i have about this pattern is that big line of wrinkles below the waist- now some of this will be from the fabric and it not being worn in, but the "daily wear" version of this corset ive made before still has some of these wrinkles even now, especially over the first hip spring panel. i know theres ways to adjust the fitting to counter the ones over the hip, but those i think are largely from the way the fabrics pulling around the curve- its covers such a large area its bound to pull a little weird in places. I really want a smooth look, a clean finish is the most important thing to me, and i worry no matter what i do they will still be there.

I will say, Ally has a lacing gap designed into the pattern, which is something i want, as Anne's corset has one, and it automatically gives you more leeway in the fit that patterns without it just dont have.

Nora on the other hand is 8 panels, with the hip spring spread across a much further space. On paper it looks much less dramatic, but theoretically should still hold a significant amount of shape, just distributed over more panels.

I guess that would be my first area of concern, that the shape just isnt quite as dramatic as the shape on Ally. i really want something quite striking for this project and though pattern modifications can be made, i was hoping to not have to do too much past simples changes.

The 8 panels also means this pattern will likely eat up more fabric. if nothing else, theres 4 extra sides of seam allowance that the other does not have (though, these pieces will nest together better, so it could end up being negligible) it is a concern however, as im working on a very tight yardage.

One of the immediate positives of this pattern however is the lack of that wrinkle band like Ally has. Since this is worn as an outer layer thats a huge point in its favour, a nice clean finish is basically the top of my requirements list.

Nora also has no lacing gap, which is an issue for the reasons mentioned above (annes costume has a lacing gap, but also lacing gaps give more leeway in the fit, allowing you to be a little tighter on some days than others.) Its possible to draft in a lacing gap relatively easily, but it is something i have to consider.

Its completely arbitrary, but i also feel like the way the strap joined onto this pattern was nicer- it lined up better with the pre existing panels and i think it'd join on as a continuous piece better. again, its extremely minor, i just think its cleaner with less fiddling on my end.

I think im still thinking the same way i was yesterday, that Nora is probably the pattern thats working better for me for this, but its still very up in the air for me. i feel like theres more pattern modifications to do there, but that its probably going to be worth doing the work? but i am definitely interested in what anyone else might think!

[flossy2003]

Storms- Oneshot

Just a warning- includes angst involving parental loss and sickness.

Wolf walked into the sitting room, and was surprised to see Scarlett, curled up on one of the sofas, sketching by the light of a candle.

“Scarlett? What are you doing in here?”

The girl jumped.

“Sorry! I’ll go back to bed!” She said, hurriedly sitting up and gathering up her drawing materials.

“No, no, don’t be sorry. I just wanted to know why you’re not in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep, the storm was keeping me awake.”

“It was keeping me awake too.” Wolf replied, taking a seat next to his daughter.

“I hate them,” Scarlett spat.

She regrettably recalled one winter, when she had forgotten to bring Relica her morning tea, so the cruel woman had locked her in a leaky barn. She was only fourteen at the time.

She’d tried pleading with Relica, apologising, promising to do better, but her cries fell on unforgiving ears.

The barn held no animals, having been abandoned many years ago, so Scarlett had no one to talk to, no one to confide in.

Danielle would hear her sobbing when she went out to tend to the garden in the afternoons. She wasn’t allowed to speak to her, let alone comfort her, otherwise Relica would have her locked up too.

On the third night of her punishment, there had been a terrible storm. Part of the barn’s rotting roof had been torn off by the gusts of wind, leaving Scarlett exposed to the freezing cold temperatures and harsh rain.

She got was found in the morning, unresponsive.

Relica had reluctantly called a doctor out to check on her. She’d told him that she was her aunt, that she had adopted Scarlett and her “sister”, Danielle, after their parents died and that she’d found Scarlett wandering the gardens that morning, before she collapsed. Unfortunately, the doctor had bought the story.

Scarlett was diagnosed with influenza and was ordered complete bed rest (or rather, wooden-slab rest) and heavy doses of medication.

The doctor would sometimes be called out in the middle of the night, because Scarlett had woken up screaming from tummy pain or hot flushes.

While she did recover physically, she never recovered emotionally.

Wolf completely understood.

“Have I ever told you why I don’t like storms?” He asked.

“No?”

“It’s not a very happy story, but I think you need to know that you’re not alone, when it comes to trauma surrounding storms.”

Scarlett nodded.

“When I was a little boy, your aunt Stella and I lived with our parents in a cottage right in the middle of Harmony Glenn. One night, there was a great storm, one that nearly wiped Harmony Glenn off the map.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened.

“Your grandparents died and our home was destroyed…”

“Oh, dad! I’m sorry.”

Wolf put his arm around Scarlett and pulled her close.

“Your grandparents were amazing people, they stood up for what was right, always encouraged us to ask questions and loved everything life had to offer. I wish they could’ve met your mother and you kids…they would’ve loved you.”

Scarlett smiled.

“I wish that too. They sound wonderful.”

“You know, you’re very much like your grandmother and your great grandmother, come to that, they were creative too.”

“They were? Did they like to sew, like me?”

“Your great grandmother did, she would make a lot of mine and Stella’s clothes when we were babies. My mother preferred painting.”

“Ooo! Like Auntie Rapunzel?” Scarlett asked.

“Yes. In fact, Auntie Rapunzel and your mother were the first people outside of my family to see the little art workshop that we owned. They loved the paintings and Stella’s mosaic pieces.”

Scarlett smiled.

“So, what happened to you and Aunt Stella after the storm?”

Wolf took a bated breath before continuing.

“Many lost their homes and businesses. The orphanage was gone and those who still had their homes didn’t really care about orphans. They filled their homes and with families who still had the money to pay them.” Wolf explained, bitterly.

“Stella and I, like many other children in our position, were left on the streets, to fend for ourselves. The adults around us were always fighting and looting from one another…so much for “Harmony Glenn”, huh?”

Wolf’s dry chuckle made Scarlett frown. She knew that he was trying to make a quip to make the story a bit lighter for her sake, but it just made her feel more sorry for him.

“It was very scary. I still remember what it was like to scrounge for food and huddling under torn-up blankets to keep warm at night,” Wolf resumed, “that is why I hate storms. They took everything from Stella and I, and I’m always afraid that it’ll happen again.”

Oh. That explained a lot, Scarlett thought.

Her dad was very attentive to his family. He had special nicknames for them (“Princess” for her, “Beautiful” for her mum, “Warrior” for Edith and “Little buddy” for Harry), and he cried when he had to go away on business trips. All he wanted was to keep them as close as he could and give them all the love he didn’t have for so long. He was terrified of losing them or them losing him.

“I’m really sorry you went through all that, dad.”

Wolf kissed her head.

“I’m just thankful for what I have now.”

“Me too,” Scarlett mumbled.

“Me three.” Cassandra said, from the doorway.

Wolf and Scarlett looked up.

“How long have you been standing there, honey?” Wolf chuckled.

“Not long. I woke up to this hungry little guy,” she said, holding up Harry, “and noticed the bed was empty. I figured you’d be down here, on a night like this.”

“I can feed him, if you want?” Scarlett offered.

“That would be great,” Cassandra replied, passing Harry to her.

While Scarlett took Harry to the kitchen, Cassandra cuddled up next to Wolf.

“Cute’s not really my thing, but our kids are insanely cute,” she grinned.

“You know, you always say that cute isn’t your thing, but if it wasn’t, how come you’re so adorable?” Wolf teased, booping her on the nose.

“Ugh, you are the world’s most soppiest husband.”

“And you’re the world’s most beautiful wife.”

“I love you, Wolfie.”

“I love you too, Cassie.”

Wolf made a silent vow that nothing would ever come between him and his family again, especially not storms.

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Flowers and a hug - Adrien AUGreste Day 3

So wasn't orignally planning on doing the event but I needed something to break up this fic I'm redoing. If I spend too long staring at it, it was going to drive me up a wall, so, here we are. Since I've done most of the @adrienaugust prompts for my Wish series, I'm just going to do the ones I haven't done. Who knows, maybe I'll finally do 'Switched', the one prompt I skipped in the first Wish story.

If you don't know what I mean, the Wish series is a fic series I did exploring the idea of Lila winning and wishing for Adrien's life and Adrien's new life as the kid of an Italian diplomat who has the freedom to be completely himself. These fics are going to be part of that series and the timeline will bounce around.

This fic is based after the events of the last chapter of the second story. Enjoy

Flowers

Piano, he learned from his dad. English and French, his mom taught him that. Sewing was learned at the feet of his nonna. But plants, specifically flowers, his hardened, silent nonno taught him that. Whenever Adrien was with his grandparents, he’d always spend at least 15 minutes in their garden, helping his nonno with whatever task he was doing. The man was always in the garden, even on days were his body made it hard to move, he’d sit on the swinging chair he’d put together after Adrien begged for one, with his espresso or tea and just take his work in. He didn’t speak much, preferring to show his words in actions but he’d tell Adrien about the stories behind the meaning of flowers. He would have him help make bouquets that he’d silently pass to his wife, the only reaction of her thanks being the blush that came to his face like clockwork when she’d press a kiss to her husband’s cheek.

The bouquets had no rhyme or reason behind them, but Adrien did notice whenever his nonna was upset, flowers would end up in her kitchen. They weren’t an immediate fix, but it always brought a smile to her face.

So that’s why Adrien left his apartment early in the morning, met up with Marinette outside the bakery and took the train to the flower market near the Notre-Dame. Luka had told him he loved him and also that because of his grandfather, he’d be busy with something he couldn’t talk about. He and Juleka were feeling the affects of whatever it was, looking exhausted, but Luka seemed to be having a harder time with whatever it was. Adrien was dying to poke and ask more questions but with a ring on his finger and a new constant hitchhiker, Adrien knew it would be wrong to ask for answers Luka wasn’t ready to give. It could see it was bothering him, whenever Luka couldn’t give him a clear answer. Luka’s brow would furrow, he’d tug at his earrings and he’d apologise like it was no one’s business. Adrien just wanted him to be reminded that even though they had to keep a few secrets, that wasn’t going to break them up. Marinette, after hearing his idea in class, offered to show him the best stalls at the flower market.

“Thanks again for doing this.” Adrien thanked.

“Of course. Luka’s been looking so exhausted. I think he was actually going to fall asleep standing up at rehearsal. I’m surprised he didn’t cancel.”

“Not Luka. If he can’t play music, he feels like there’s no point.” It had been that sometimes it was the only time he’d see Luka relax, unburdened by whatever was bothering him.

He just hoped this was another way to make him relaxed.

The market was huge. Thanks to Marinette’s suggestion, it wasn’t quite as packed as it could have been and the blonde Italian followed the baker’s daughter to the different stalls. He didn’t buy from every one, but he pulled some with meanings he hoped to convey. Roses in colours that meant happiness, worthy of them, salvias in blue to let Luka know he was always on Adrien’s mind and hydrangeas to tell Luka thank you for at least trying to give some context, little as it was, along with dahlias to remind him of how kind he was. Cellophane and tissue paper in hand, Adrien tightened his grip on his spoils. His nonno made smiles appear out of thin air with his nonna and her moods. Luka wasn’t in so much of a mood, but Adrien still wanted to make Luka smile.

Here went seeing what stuck from the lessons.

__________________

Sleeping sounded good. Great even, but he had a whole understanding of a Kwami Box to understand first. Said Kwami had tons of energy, but the slightest glimpse of being overstimulated and they thankfully calmed down and went back in the box. They were a help in helping his mother find her missing things. They were like genies. Who didn’t know their own history. The monks behind the Temple did tell their students much, so the little Fu did write down for him left a lot of gaps. Not even the translated Grimoire gave much help in understanding it. with his classes, patrol and trying to be a present person with the people he cared about, Luka felt like he was going to explode. He had Juleka, but she was approaching finals before she graduated collége and headed to lycée. He still needed to take his university exams, if he was even going to do in person university. Another decision he needed to make.

Fu fucking owed him for throwing this responsibility onto a teenager. And the monks, for choosing a kid who didn’t want to do said job which caused all of this in the first place. Also, where the fuck where they? Fu swore they were close but he had yet to have some old person come and demand the Miraculous back. He’d like to have the chance to convince them to help, like Jessica managed to do. He wished he could talk to her more, but he knew her parents were still trying to find them and they wanted answers about the American Miraculous that Jess couldn’t give. He was in a better position than her, having a whole team instead of just his sister, but it wasn’t going to do much now. He couldn’t tell his team what was going on, not until they had more information. Not even his own boyfriend.

Which was another thing. he missed Adrien. Any time they hung out turned into a mess of him being exhausted and distant. Adrien was the best thing ever, not looking upset, just asking if everything was ok. How was it he had the pair the more powerful Miraculous and he wasn’t allowed to tell him anything?

God, he needed a fucking nap.

He shoved the box into the chest they’d chosen for the hiding spot, the Kwami taking a hint and ducking into the mini figure collection Rose had been growing on Juleka’s side of the room. He flopped onto his bed, trying to get his body to relax.

“Luka?” Tikki questioned, letting out a sad hum when he turned to face the wall and away from her.

“Just five minutes please Tikki. I just want five minutes.”

He heard footsteps, but assumed it was his mother. Juleka was spending the night with Rose. The tiny blonde had taken a look at her exhausted looking girlfriend and dragged her home, according to Juleka’s text. But…his mom wasn’t in town. She was charting a yacht across the water for the week. So, who…?

A knock on the post leading to his room made him open his eyes and look towards the doorway.

“Adrien?”

“Hi. I thought Juleka was here but I didn’t see her and I didn’t see your mom either. I didn’t want come in without permission. I know how much your mom loves that.”

He stared at Adrien, dressed rather like a punk for a change, like he wasn’t real. Luka got up and started to walk over to him, ready to grab him into a hug when he was stopped by a face full of flowers. Adrien looked embarrassed.

“I had them behind my back and you were gonna hug me. I wanted to surprise you with them first.”

Luka felt a small smile grow. “You got me flowers?” he asked, taking them from Adrien.

“I made you flowers. A bouquet of flowers I mean.” Adrien stuttered a little, the smile on Luka’s face getting bigger. “My nonno would give my nonna flowers whenever she was upset or just because and I know you’ve have to keep secrets and I can see it’s been upsetting you so I wanted to give you something that reminded you I was here, for whatever you need. Even if it’s just a hug.” Adrien spread his arms out, letting out a small noise when Luka wrapped his arms around him. “Do you like them?”

“I love them. thank you. I like the hug too.”

Adrien laughed, adjusting his grip so he could hug him tighter.

“Of course, you know how to make bouquets. Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” Luka asked, rocking the two of them back and forth. Finally, just for a little bit, he felt calm.

“A number of things, I just learn to fake a lot of it.”

“So, you know the meanings? Is that post on making a ‘fuck you’ bouquet true then?”

Adrien giggled. “Yes, it is. I can tell you what these flowers mean.”

“In a bit.” Luka said, looking at the blossoms he held. He wanted to tell Adrien everything, but for now, these were proof that while things were stressful and insane, he had a person he could go to, even if it was for a hug and a smile. the minute he got permission, Adrien would know. but for right now, he could take a hug. And the flowers, definitely, the flowers.

[shadow-laviko]

I saw your post and I'm gonna ask you about your favorite scenes in Rain Code (including the Prologue, Epilogue, opening movie and DLCs), you can rate them too.

/spoil

My favorite scene is the scene where Yuma uses his blade to block Makoto's attack (chapter 5). I really like action scenes so I rate it very highly haha

Next is the scene where the Shinigami hugs Yakou (chapter 4). I cried so much that flooded my floor for 2 hours before I felt normal again.

Annnnd scene Makoto moves after Yuma and the Shinigami enter the final mysterious labyrinth. He was quite terrifying to me; he certainly had no knowledge that time would freeze, but he chose his actions based on Yuma and the Shinigami's reactions to avoid suspicion as much as possible.

If it's in Mystery Labyrinth then I like the space scene in chapter 0, after chasing Zilch running out of the tunnel. I really like the big, sparkly ones.

As for the DLC, I like… all of Vivia's DLC, goddamn it, why is this man so cinematic

Before I answer, I want to say that I'm happy to hear what your favourite scenes are! Because I don't think I have seen anyone talk about their favourite Rain code scenes?

The Makoto scene was interesting indeed! I liked it, but not enough to be in my top 5 I think?

The Yakou one... Yeah, I totally get it! Maybe in my top 5, but not for the chapter

Ok, yeah, the second Makoto scene was amazing, I liked it a lot, it might be my favourite scene of chapter 5? I'll have to think more about it (However, I never found him terrifying, just funny and interesting)

Ohh, the running out of the tunnel scene was funny

As for the DLC, I apologise, I have not played nor seen the DLCs 😔

-----

Ok, now, about my opinion... Spoiler, most of them are about Yomi, because of course it would be about him. It's ALWAYS about him in my head...

Ok, so, for chapter 0... Hmmmm. Ok, the tunnel one is very fun, but I also really like the moment Yuma uses the fire extinguisher, because he hurts himself and leaves blood. Just that wouldn’t be interesting, but the fact he leaves blood at that instant, and it turns out to be a very useful information later on (not just for chapter 0, but also for chapter 5 (because we think the blood is pink in this game, but Yuma's red blood was proof something was off about Kanai's inhabitants)) is just so interesting. Like, I don't know how to explain it, it's just nice

The Opening... I am really not normal about that opening. I like EVERY🦆IN THING ABOUT THAT OPENING. And of course I really like the moment we get Yomi's intro, and the moment we get Makoto's intro. I don't have much to add, I like them a lot, their presentation is nice, I like it.

For chapter 1, of course I really like when Yomi and Martina arrive, and when Seth gets hit in the face, because- because I have no explaining for it. Everytime Yomi appears on screen, I basically turn into Fake Zilch, so...

No but, if I had to find an explanation... Well, the way Yomi and Martina arrived on the bike was really cool, and Yomi, being the prince that he is, waiting for Martina to open her umbrella and introduce him was fun. As for the Seth part... I guess I just really like Seth being hurt :')

I love that man, but get him away from me for his own safety :')

Oh, bonus point: Don't know if that counts, but when Shinigami posessed the priest was a funny scene, I really liked it

Chapter 2, of course I really like the submarine explosion/cube scene. Because maaan, we get to see how insane Yomi is, and I think that's when I was sold for his character (is that how you say it?). And, also, I HAVE to add : I think that his "What's... love?" might be my favourite line from him (with probably the sewing machine one), so that makes the scene even better! (Also, can we talk about the angst potential of that sentence???)

Other than Yomi... Hmmm, the end of the mystery labyrinth with the girls crying and explaining their action... Man, I cry everytime. Because, you know, you can't say they were wrong for wanting to avenge their friend, but you can't really justify it either. It's just tragic...

Aaand, I think we could count the drinking scene as well, because you can see Karen hesitating to drink. She probably knew what was going to happen to her but decided to go with it anyway, probably because she felt remorses. This chapter really was a tragedy.

Chapter 3... Do I even have to say it? I'm sure you know it without me having to write it down. Anyway, the Yomi walking/Makoto air balloon scene.

Why? BECAUSE I AM A SIMP AND HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MAN WALKING?? HAVE YOU?? HE WAS SO PRETTY DURING THAT SCENE, AND FOR NO DARN REASON, THAT MAN, I SWEAR-

Ijdhd9sgs8scsu ugh. Ok, I also mentionned Makoto. I liked that scene also because of Makoto unexpected and silly entrance. He could have come and drifted with his car, could have come appearing behind Yomi, out of nowhere. And yet, he decided that a 🦆in balloon would do?? I love that man.

Also, do you guys think he has an army of giant hot air balloon at the ready somewhere?? (Was it ever mentionned somewhere?)

Onto chapter 4: Ok, for this one, there are three (more?) that I really like.

I really liked when Yomi "arrested" Makoto

When Makoto had that file (or whatever it was) it gently knocked himself in the head with it, like "Hehe", I have no explanation for it, I just really liked it (am I the only one who thought that was a bit hot of him? Like, sir- sir, what are you- I really like you, funny man)

When Yomi whipped Vivia (I like Vivia, but hot dang, that was... Hm 👀👀)

When Yomi (how do you say that in proper English? I forgot) got the guns out. Like, that pose was soooo fine. Sir, please consider becoming a model, or even- (I swear, if that man was real (he'd probably get arrested right away and would be an awful human being. That aside...) I would support him on only fan... Although, Yomi being Yomi, I don't feel like he would have one). But also, sir, you can't aim with two guns... I mean, I doubt you would care anyway, but come on, that was silly

Ok, anyway...

Oh yeah, that short (was it?) when we could see him flee, that was so so funny to me

And lastly, as you mentionned, the scene where Yakou got his soul reaped... Man... I cried again. And I think I will cry everytime I'll watch it. It's just too heartbraking...

Chapter 5: Hmm... Hmmmmmmm.

🦆,that's a hard one (also, wtf, when you put only an emoji on the paragraph, it makes it big?? Big duckies??? Yay)

Hmmm, I really liked everything in chapter 5 (although I have a fear of zombies (the first time I saw them, I was like "Noooo, why did you put zombies in your amazing game? Now I'm scared ;-;" and when I played the game, I decided to play chapter 5 IN THE DARK. Let me tell you I did not move a single muscle until I was in the labyrinth 🫠)), but I can hardly find a scene I liked more than the others.

Hmm, maybe the doctor Huesca video? But I'm not sure that counts... Hmmmmmm

Oh wait, yeah, no, I liked when Makoto asked Yuma to lend him a hand, and, as you said, when Makoto moved after Yuma and Shinigami entered the labyrinth. I was like "YOOOOO", that was crazy

And the sword fight you talked about was also a nice scene! Hmm

Oh and, if that counts, everytime Makoto changed masks, especially when he switched to his very special mask (the one with the giant smile and long tongue). Because I reaaaally like masks, and he has so many, with so many significations... I liked it (speaking of the significations of his masks, has anyone made a post dedicated to it? If yes, cand you please share the link? I really want to see it if it exists)

Epilogue: Hmmm there's not much I have to say... I guess I liked when the four detectives thanked chief Yakou (Halara giving him their precious coin 🥺), when Vivia got out of his suitcase, because it was funny... And... I think the train scene with Kurumi was nice, and of course the one where we see Yuma in that desert city... That was interesting, I hope we'll get to have more Master Detective Archives in the future!

Overall favourite: Is it obvious? I don't know if it's obvious, it is in my mind. I really duckin love that chapter 3 scene waaaaaay too much. I could look at it for hours on end, I swear

Since I didn't play nor watch the DLCs, I think that's all? Hope that answered your question! And thanks a lot for telling me your favourite scenes and asking for mine!

I might reblog this and update it with the DLCs once I watch/play them 🤔

[wastelesscrafts]

Just wanted to say thank you for working so hard on this blog and making it as accessible as possible. I've felt really guilty about about the talk of clothing consumption, especially since I'm not confident in my sewing skills to make my own clothes for the most part, so seeing solutions to promote longevity and reuse for things you already at all different skill levels really inspired me! Thank you for not being judgmental and instead super helpful with this blog

Fashion, guilt, anger, and love

Thank you for your kind message! It's important to me that this blog is accessible regardless of skill level, so I'm glad to hear you feel that way.

I was originally planning on keeping this reply short, but I then realised there were a few more things I wanted to say about the topics you touched on, so I apologise for the wall of text.

Guilt:

You mentioned feeling guilty.

You can't choose what emotions you feel or what thoughts pop into your mind when those emotions crop up. That's a fact. What you can do is choose how to act on them.

A lot of us feel overwhelmed when hearing about the effects of the clothing industry on both our planet and the workers who make our clothes. Guilt is a common feeling to go along with this. After all, we wear those clothes! Doesn't that make us the cause of all this suffering? We have to take action!

Sounds familiar, right?

The thing is: guilt can be a tricky starting point for action. It's easy to get burned out if your motivation is feeling guilty over the system you live in. I would suggest focusing on two other emotions that this overwhelm often evokes, instead: anger and love.

Anger:

It's not your fault you're stuck in a broken system. You couldn't have done better in the past if you didn't know what was going on. You didn't personally invent this system, either. You're probably stuck in a situation right now where you know the impact of the goods you consume, but you can't just quit (and there's plenty of valid reasons why that might be so).

Doesn't that piss you off?

We often portray anger as a negative emotion: it can have dire consequences when it's aimed at the wrong people. But as any fellow Discworld fan will know, anger can also be a power for good.

Don't get angry at yourself for the stuff you bought in the past. Don't chastise that one friend who threw away a shirt because they didn't know how to sew on a button. Get angry at the industry!

Does fast fashion deserve to decide what clothes you get to wear, or what sizes are socially acceptable for your body to be? Is it okay for them to normalise selling shoddy clothes that were made in unethical circumstances and only last a few washes? I don't think so.

Let that anger motivate you to regain agency over your wardrobe. The industry doesn't get to decide what you wear, you do! Ignore the trends they try to push. Learn how to make, mend, and customise your own clothes. Buy second-hand, trade clothes with friends, start give-away groups and repair cafés,...

They also don't get to set norms like "single-use fashion is fine" or "abusing textile workers is a normal way to make clothes". Tweet at unethical companies, mail them, write articles about them, spread the word about their practices, support initiatives like the Pay Up movement, contact local policy makers,...

Use your anger in constructive ways to work against the injustices that made you feel angry in the first place. Punch up, never down.

Love:

You know what emotion lies at the source of all that anger and guilt? Not to sound like a stereotype, but it's love. You love your fellow humans, your planet, and the clothes you wear.

This system we live in is not normal. Humans are social creatures, even if we don't always feel like it. Our brains thrive on kindness, on making others happy, and on taking care of each other. We can't stand the knowledge that someone else is suffering: the drive to help others is literally a survival mechanism for our species.

The type of society many of us live in is pushing us in the opposite direction, so we have to push back and be kind to others and to ourselves. Being aware of this is an important part of fighting climate change, too.

I highly recommend the book "Humankind" by Rutger Bregman if you'd like to dive deeper into this topic (or his lectures on YouTube).

All in moderation:

Did this reply make you want to take action? Good!

Does this mean I want you to give it your all? No! Remember what I said about kindness? That goes for you, too.

Guilt can sometimes push us beyond our limits which will burn us out eventually. Be kind to yourself, stick to your boundaries, and take baby steps. Figure out what you can and can't do, be realistic, and make habits stick before you start a new one.

Would it be cool to become zero waste overnight? Sure, but it's not very realistic. But you know what else is a great first step? Helping that one hypothetical friend to fix the button that fell of their shirt so they don't have to go out and buy a new one.

To quote one of my favourite fashion podcasts: strive for progress, not perfection.

[animeomegas]

Omega!Sasuke - Domestic headcanons

Anon: I love your omega sasuke writings!! Their sooo cutee!Could I ask for fluffy domestic headcannons with omega sasuke and his mate pleeasee!

(Thank you so much! My omega!Sasuke writings have become something of a feature of this blog heehee. This ask is the oldest one I have, so I apologise for the wait <3<3 Enjoy)

Warnings: None.

Sasuke is not the most domestically skilled (although he’s not bad either), but he is definitely a homebody.

Sasuke is just the happiest when he’s at home. There’s no pressure, no judgement, no expectation, and for those reasons, it’s his favourite place to be.

And to share that space with someone he loves and cherishes makes him very happy. 

I want to write this by taking a look at a perfect day at home when neither Sasuke nor his mate has to work. 

Morning

Sasuke has always been an early riser. Never in his life has he been able to sleep in. Whether it was following his brother around, training, nightmares, or missions, Sasuke considers 7:30 am a lie in. Most people disagree with him. 

But something that has changed compared to all those times, is that now he likes to spend a few extra minutes in bed, taking in his alpha’s scent, and revelling in the warmth of another person. (He also sometimes leaves a few kisses on his alpha’s face but will deny it if he’s caught.)

Sasuke gets out of bed, gets dressed and goes downstairs silently. He always makes a pot of tea. 

Sasuke finds a great interest in tea as he gets older. He enjoys finding rare blends and brings back tea whenever he goes travelling. 

He sits and enjoys his tea on the porch in the peace and quiet of the early morning.

When he’s done, he waters the plants in your garden, mainly tomato plants.

He had started a small tomato garden after prompting from you and his therapist. Sasuke thought it was stupid, but you convinced him to give it a shot. After experiencing so much death, curating life was like a breath of fresh air. 

As an introvert, Sasuke enjoys spending this time by himself in the mornings.

When he’s done, he heads back into the kitchen and starts to cook breakfast for the both of you. 

And he can never keep the smile off his face when he feels your arms snake around his waist.

“Morning,” you whispered, leaning you head on Sasuke’s shoulder and watching him fry some fish. 

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep okay?” 

Sasuke hummed in the positive as you started to place kisses on his neck. You buried your face into his neck and took a deep breath. Sasuke huffed and pushed your face away.

“Go be useful and lay the table.”

You laughed and pulled away from him to do as you were asked, but not before giving him a slap on the behind. Sasuke rolled his eyes at your behaviour and swatted you away.  

Sasuke is the sort of cook who is very good at cooking a small collection of meals and as such, tends to lean towards traditional meals, the kind his mother used to make for him. For breakfast, he always makes fish, rice and miso soup.

You both always eat breakfast at your dining table. If you ever suggest eating it in bed or on the sofa, Sasuke will judge you heavily. He’s a dining room table only kind of guy.

Sasuke is very traditional in a lot of ways, and his mother and father always taught him that meals were eaten at a table.

 Afternoon:

The afternoon, the perfect time for errands and cleaning. According to Sasuke, anyway.  

As long as he doesn’t bump into anyone he knows, he actually finds running errands pretty relaxing.

Unfortunately, he almost always bumps into someone he knows, so you’re on errand duty, and Sasuke will stay safe inside his own house and clean.

He gives you a list of things to pick up. The list is very extensive and specific. And Sasuke will be grumpy if you buy the wrong kind of thing.

While Sasuke doesn’t have the largest repertoire of meals he can cook, he’s very good at cleaning.

He likes to keep a minimalist, traditional style, very similar to the style of the house he grew up in. This style only works with a tidy and clean house.

Sasuke gets stressed if his home space is messy, so he tidies and cleans every day unless he’s on a mission.

If he is on a mission and the house isn’t at least mostly clean when he gets back, he gets salty about it.

 “Sasuke!” you called out. “I’m back, can you help me with the bags?”

 He immediately shunshined next to you.

 You swore in surprise, dropping the bags that you had cradled in your arms.

 Sasuke was unperturbed, catching them smoothly with a muttered, “Don’t drop the bags,” before sweeping them into the kitchens.

 You stared after him from a moment.

 “’Don’t drop the bags’,” you mocked him under your breath.

 “I heard that.”

 You ignored him, walking into the perfectly clean kitchen. He managed to clean everything before you were done shopping? You shook your head in disbelief. Before you lived together, you would never have pegged Sasuke as the neat freak type, but he absolutely was. You can still remember the horror on his face when you spilled wine all over the tatami mats in your bedroom. You laughed lightly at the memory.

 “Did you pick up the aubergines?” Sasuke asked, rifling through the bags.

 “Yes, of course.”

 “And the green tea?”

 You huffed out a laugh and rolled your eyes.

 “I got everything you put on the list, Sasuke, I promise,” you put your hands on his shoulders, leaning down to kiss him to shut up his nagging.

 Sasuke sighed quietly into the kiss, bring his arms up to wrap around your waist.  Eventually, you broke the kiss, but continued to rest your forehead against Sasuke’s.

 “The house looks amazing by the way, thanks for cleaning it,” you whispered.

 “If it was up to you, we’d live in squalor, so someone has to do it,” he grumbled, trying to cover up the pleased blush covering his face at your compliment.

 You just shook your head, leaning down to steal another kiss from your grumpy husband.

 Evening:

Evenings with Sasuke are very calm.

He enjoys an evening of coexisting while working on different tasks.

Maybe you’re sewing something and Sasuke is reading a book, his head on your lap.

Or perhaps you decide to do some writing while Sasuke gets some work done, shoulder brushing together.

He’s not one for talking, but casual physical affection with his alpha is something Sasuke loves.

Evenings like this after long missions, Sasuke often falls asleep on your shoulder, leaning instinctively into the warmth and comforting smell.

If he’s in a good mood, sometimes you can hear a few purrs escape, which is the cutest thing ever of course.

Sasuke’s purr is very quiet generally, but it’s a lovely sound. Every time he does it, it just fills you with a warm feeling.

Peaceful coexistence really it Sasuke’s bread and butter.

 You sat as still as possible on the sofa, supressing a smile as you felt Sasuke’s head get heavier and heavier on your shoulder. He was falling asleep.

 When you had first met, he wouldn’t have trusted you to tell him the time correctly, but now? Now, simply being in your presence put him at ease enough that he simply fell asleep.

 You turned ever so slightly to press a gentle kiss to his head. His hair was still slightly damp from his bath. He smelt clean and a little sweeter than normal. Sasuke had tried out a new shampoo when the shop had run out of his favourite one. You made a note to tell him that you preferred this one; it mingled much better with his natural scent.

 You looked out the window briefly, noting how dark it had become. You had to get yourself and Sasuke into bed soon, but you just didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

 The silence was suddenly broken by a quiet purring sound.

 Sasuke was purring into your neck.

 Well, now you definitely couldn’t wake him up.

 You could feel the vibrations from Sasuke’s chest on your arms, while his steady breathing tickled the hairs on your neck. You sighed in resignation. Guess you were stuck here for a little longer, not that you were complaining, of course.

 You grabbed a book from the side table to entertain yourself while Sasuke slept peacefully on your shoulder. Peaceful rest didn’t come often for Sasuke, so you weren’t going to be the one to ruin it.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Mute

Prompt: I absolutely adore your writing! Could I ask for a request too, please? I was thinking of a back-and-forth between Janus and Logan, just lies after truths after lies, until one snaps and accidentally causes the other to lose the ability to speak? Since they can both technically change the reality around them. Either the recipient becomes forcibly mute or the very angsty "sowed up mouth" method. Whoever caused the other to lose their speech freaks out and tries their best to fix their mess while apologising. Either a platonic or romantic ending -whichever you decide- but with at least a happy ending please? - willowaudreykeyes

Thanks for the prompts, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic janus, logan gets his mouth sewn shut but it's okay we fix it

Pairings: can be platonic or romantic I don't care, but we hit logince, rociet, lociet

Word Count: 2922

He doesn’t even remember how it started.

Or, an argument between Logan and Janus spirals dangerously out of hand, and powers in the Mindscape are sometimes more curses than blessings.

It hadn’t been something Thomas knew about, it hadn’t been a group discussion—he doesn’t think the others know where they are. Virgil is probably in his room, Roman is working in the Imagination, Patton is baking with Remus.

He doesn’t remember how it started.

He does know how they got here.

“I fail to see what use this is,” Logan had grumbled, standing up from the library table, “I will be better off figuring this out myself.”

“Oh, yes, of course, because that’s always gone so well for you in the past.”

Logan’s eyes had flashed with anger he still denies he has. “I fail to see what gives you the opinion that you have any right to complain.”

“Because I’m certainly the one saying that I’ve done all my best work alone.”

Janus had smirked cruelly as Logan shoved his glasses back up his nose and pointed a finger at him. “Your track record, may I remind you, has certainly shown that.”

Janus had thrown his head back and cackled, filled with mirth that sat like rot in the pit of his stomach. “And yet I managed to do so much more in the few times I appeared than you.”

“Oh, like that’s the same thing.”

He had held his hand to his mouth in a mock gasp. “Why, Logan, surely you can’t be insinuating that you think the others are incompetent. How hurtful, what on earth would they say?”

“I did not say that.”

“But you meant it, didn’t you?” Janus had morphed his expression into a mock pout. “They’re all so slow, so irrational, all they do is get in the way, they’re so irritating.”

“You’re attempting to convince me that I said something I did not,” Logan had said firmly, “it will not work. The meaning of my remark, as you are aware, was that you, as your role in the videos, have an easier time disrupting the flow of conversation that I do as a member of the main cast.”

Logan had ignored—or perhaps not noticed—the subtle tightening of Janus’s fist. He had simply sniffed and looked down his nose.

“And even then, it’s a surprise you haven’t been more capable.”

Janus had bared his teeth. “Yes, because obviously, you could’ve done better.”

“Oh, please.” Logan had tucked his notebook into the crook of his arm. “Can you name one of your haphazard schemes that actually worked?”

Janus had gritted his teeth as Logan opened the notebook and began to read down the list.

“Your attempt to get Thomas to lie to Joan failed when Roman started to believe that lying was wrong as well, leading to Thomas discovering your true identity.”

“By all means,” Janus had growled, “keep going.”

“Most notably, your attempt to get Thomas to go to the callback backfired quite spectacularly—something that wouldn’t have happened in quite the same fashion had you actually let me participate—“

“Keep talking, Logan,” he’d said again, inching closer to the nerd, “that’s a wonderful idea.”

“—and of course, led to what is the most disruptive event in recent memory,” Logan had continued, undaunted, “the wedding.”

Janus hadn’t even bothered with words this time, reaching for the notebook with a growl. Logan had tucked it away before he could reach it.

“Tell me,” he had said, “was it worth it? Knowing how much it cost us?”

“Surely,” Janus had growled back, “then you know it’s not because you didn’t do your job well enough.”

Logan had stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Well surely you haven’t realized that the reason I was able to make it into that video in the first place,” Janus had said smoothly, sliding back into the ‘villain’ persona Logan has so graciously cast him in, “was that you were so painfully easy to replace.”

“Falsehood,” Logan had said lowly.

Janus had raised his hand again. “Oh, so you did notice. Splendid. Then you know that when it comes to pushing blame around the Mindscape—“

He had leaned closer.

“—you’re where we should be looking too.”

“I am—“

“Easy to overlook,” Janus had sung, prowling around Logan in a circle, “easy to silence. And surely there’s no correlation between when you attempt to override the others and when Thomas gets hurt. You want to talk about my failures? Then let’s not forget getting the others trapped in Patton’s room, shall we?”

Logan’s fists had tightened. “That’s not—“

“After all,” Janus had continued, speaking over him to illustrate his point, “if I’m to blame for knocking all the dominos down, you certainly didn’t give me a hand setting them up.”

“As if that in any way equivocates to what you did,” Logan had spat, the emotionless facade finally giving way as he whirled of Janus, “I did not use, manipulate, and lie to get the others to do what I want.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t.”

“And if I did, my lies would be nowhere near as comically obvious.”

“Ah, yes, of course you’re never comical.” Janus had tapped Logan’s flushed cheek. “The possibilities of you being a joke have always been…infinitesimal.”

Logan had bared his teeth as Janus chuckled. “At least my concept of a joke never hurt anyone.”

Logan’s mouth had tugged up cruelly too.

“Setting Remus loose on Thomas when you knew he was already upset, pushing the others to follow on whatever path you decided was best. And let’s not even start on what you did to Roman.”

Janus had flinched.

“Have you ever apologized?” Logan had shaken his head. “For everything that you’ve done to hurt him?”

“Have you?”

The room had dropped several degrees.

Janus had dropped the villain persona, staring directly at Logan.

“You want to talk about hurting the others, hurting Roman,” he had said lowly, “what do you think it is that you do?”

Logan had opened his mouth to speak but Janus had raised a finger.

“No. Do you know how much you’ve hurt him? Over how many years you’ve made him ashamed of who he is?” He had shaken his head. “I know I’ve hurt him. But you don’t seem to recognize it.”

He had looked Logan up and down, mouth curled in disgust.

“Maybe I’m not good enough at my job for your liking, but I sure was good at yours.” He had raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they wanted you silenced permanently. They did press the ‘skip’ button, after all.”

He had looked for the shadow of the bruise on Logan’s neck.

“And it was so easy to replace you. To silence you properly.”

He had turned away, not bothering to look at Logan’s face.

“Maybe I should do them a favor and keep you quiet.”

There had been a strangled gasp behind him.

“Oh, what,” Janus had drawled, turning around, “did you finally realize you don’t have a smart comeback for…”

The room had frozen.

…so that’s how they got here.

Janus, standing a few paces from Logan, turning back to face him, the sharp quip dying on the edge of his lips as his mouth drops open in horror, staring back.

Logan, his eyes wide, shining with unshed tears, glasses blurred and obscured by the bright light shining from the golden stitches that sew his mouth shut.

Logan raises trembling hands to his mouth, feeling the stitches, tears rolling down his face. His fingers disappear into the bright golden light as he fumbles with his mouth, until he realizes that he can’t.

The strangled scream lingers in Janus’s head long after Logan shrinks into a crouch on the floor.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no—no, not Logan. Not Logan.

“Oh, god—“ Logan’s hands keep pressing fruitlessly against his mouth— “no, oh, god, Logan—“

He runs back, ready to crouch and pry Logan’s hands away before he hurts himself, chest splitting open from the ache of hurting the poor thing like this.

He doesn’t think it could hurt more.

Like so many other times today, he’s wrong.

The instant Logan catches a glimpse of him moving toward him, he shoves himself away, scrambling backward until his back hits the wall. Eyes wide, breathing as heavily as he can through the stitches, utterly terrified.

As he has every right to be.

“No, no, Logan,” he murmurs frantically, “no, it’s okay, I’m not trying to hurt you—“

Does it matter that you’re not trying? You certainly were earlier.

“—I promise, Logan, please, I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Through the pants, the sobs, the shakiness of his chest, Logan huffs, disbelieving.

“I didn’t, Logan, I promise.” Janus drops to his knees in front of the crying man. “I—we went too far. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would happen, I didn’t mean to, please—“

The poor thing presses himself further against the wall. Janus swallows, feeling guilt press hot and heavy against the underside of his tongue. He reaches out, trying desperately to show him that he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to, he doesn’t actually believe anything he just said, he’s nothing but a liar, a horrible liar, please—

“I didn’t mean it, Logan, I promise, you’re—you’re not replaceable, I don’t want you silenced, the others don’t hate you, they don’t want you gone, I’m sorry—“

Slowly, too slowly, and not slowly enough, Logan’s breathing begins to settle. His eyes lose that awful whiteness and he slumps a little against the wall. His cheeks are damp, his glasses knocked askew, but he stares at Janus and slowly, slowly, nods.

“L-Logan?”

Another nod, a little less hesitant.

Janus’s shoulders slump. “Oh, Logan, why does it always end up with you being the better person?”

A tiny quirk of the eyebrow, nowhere near Logan’s typical sass levels, but it’s enough. It’s enough. Enough to make a weak smile come to Janus’s face.

“Can I come over, please? Can I come help?”

Logan nods, still wary as Janus shuffles across the floor. Before he makes it all the way there, he tugs off his gloves and stuffs them in his pocket.

“There,” he says quietly, wiggling his fingers to get used to it, “don’t want the fibers getting caught on anything.”

Logan’s wide-eyed stare tells him he knows why Janus really took the gloves off. Something Janus confirms a moment later.

“And I want you to know that I mean it.” He reaches forward. “Can I touch?”

Logan still flinches when Janus runs his thumb carefully over the cruel stitches sewing Logan’s mouth shut. He winces as he takes in how taut the thread is, how many stitches there are.

“Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “does it hurt very badly?”

Another miserable nod.

Then it clicks.

Logan.

The one who submits least to the Imagination. The one who tethers himself tightly to the fact that they are metaphysical, they are subjective, they need not subject themselves to real-world consequences of whatever nonsense the other Sides pull.

Logan still has the stitches.

It threatens to break Janus’s heart all over again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, cupping Logan’s face and slipping his glasses to the top of his head, “I’ve hurt you more than this, haven’t I?”

For indeed, if Logan is too upset to remember how to pull himself out of turns of phrase, then the poor thing is distraught.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, gently wiping away Logan’s tears, “it’s okay, sweetie, I’m not going to hurt you, it’s over, I’m not angry, I’m going to take care of you.”

And oh, the way Logan pushes shyly into his hands feels warm.

“Does this help, sweetie, is this alright?” At Logan’s nod, he moves, tucking Logan’s legs across his lap with his other hands. “Come here, yes—that’s it, shh, I’ve got you, you just focus on me.”

Logan’s eyes fall closed and a muffled whimper comes from his throat.

“I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m right here,” Janus murmurs, still cupping the poor thing’s head as it leans into him, “shh, shh, let’s get you a little calmer before we have a look, okay?”

Logan gives a huff of ‘what do you think I’m trying to do?’

“I know you know that, sweetie,” he chuckles, lifting Logan’s head to gently knock their foreheads together, “you’re clever. Our resident brain cell.”

He wraps one hand around the back of his neck.

“It’s just like what you taught us, remember? Object impermanence. This won’t last forever. I’m right here. You were so brave, you are so brave, so wonderful, so sweet…just give yourself time, sweetie, it’s okay.”

Logan relaxes a little in his hold as he keeps talking quietly. The poor thing gets over his hesitation and buries his face shamelessly in the crook of Janus’s neck.

“Shh, shh, that’s it, sweetie, easy now—“ Janus cradles him as he sets his glasses out of the way— “I’ve got you. I’m right here, sweetie, I’ve got you. It’s almost over, now, you can do it, shh.”

Another muffled noise from Logan.

“You’re not easily replaceable,” Janus says firmly, “you’re not unwanted. You’re not a joke, the others know how much you care about them, how much you help them, how important they are to you, how important you are to them.”

He tilts his head to press a kiss to Logan’s temple.

“How important you are to me.”

The golden light dims, sputters, and vanishes.

“…sweetie?”

Logan pulls back, carefully rubbing his fingers over his stitch-free mouth. He opens and closes a few times.

“Ouch.”

“Are you alright, sweet? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know,” Logan says quietly, “I’m sorry too. That…escalated very quickly. I did not mean the things I said either.”

He squints.

“Oh, here—“ Janus passes him his glasses.

“Thank you. But that’s not why I—what were we arguing about, to begin with?”

Janus huffs a laugh. “I had been meaning to ask you that question.”

“Well, whatever it is, it must not have been very important.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry too,” Logan repeats after that pause, “you are not just a villain, you are not incompetent, and you…you are not to blame for everything that has gone wrong.”

Janus chucks him lightly under the chin. “Neither are you.”

“I know that, intellectually, and yet…somehow, it remains difficult for me to grasp.”

“Because even though you’re Logic, sweetie,” Janus says, “you’re Thomas’s Logic.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because Thomas is, frankly, something of a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh out of him at any rate.

“I mean, that also makes you a dumbass.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware.”

Logan’s smile is wonderful. “What is it that Roman is quite fond of saying?”

“That he’s pure of heart, dumb of ass?”

“That’s is.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“It is.” Logan frowns. “Even if he’s far more intelligent than he gets credit for.”

Janus nudges him. “I hope you know that you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.”

“Ah. I see.”

There’s another moment of silence as they reflect on what’s been said. Then Logan nervously adjusts his tie.

“Speaking of Roman…”

“I was about to say.” Janus gives his knee a pat. “Shall we see if we can find him?”

“I believe his business in the Imagination should be done.” They help each other to stand, Logan keeping a grip on Janus’s sleeve. “Should we check his room first?”

“I think so.”

Roman, of course, swings open the door with a cheerful greeting, the role of the pompous prince firmly in place until he takes in their tear-stained faces and he melts, dropping the act almost immediately.

“Oh, my darlings,” he coos, cupping each of their faces in a hand, “what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?”

“May we come in, please?” Indeed, poor Logan looks as if he’s about to melt into Roman’s arms. Janus can’t talk, though, he’s about to do the same.

“Of course, come on, let’s get you sat down—“

Roman bustles about the room, fetching them a glass of water, sitting on his bed with them, almost bursting into tears himself when he hears what’s happened and promptly telling them they’re going to spend the rest of the day right here, in comfy clothes, watching ridiculously obscure documentaries until Patton and Remus call them down for dinner. They keep a hand on each other at all times, laughing at Janus’s snarky responses to awful narrators, Logan’s quick corrections when the information is out of date, and Roman’s impersonations of the strange wildlife. Roman’s room is pleasantly noisy and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

He doesn’t remember how it started, but he will always remember how it ended.

Curled around each other, in the warmth and safety of the people who care about him.

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[my-headcanons-academia]

Inko chews out Endeavour

Characters: Inko Midoriya, Izuku Midoriya, Shouto Todoroki, Endeavour

Genre: Angst, a little bit of fluff and catharsis

TW: Mentions of child abuse, abusive home life, mental drain

Word Count:3 K

A/N: This may be a teensy bit long :3

•Okay listen

•Midoriya is god damn horrified when he hears what Endeavour did/does to his kids. He had obviously guessed that the second-best hero there is who is training his family to also become heroes would have some extensive regime but what Shouto explained wasn't "training" it was just abuse.

•He immediately offers Shouto and his sibling's a place with him and his mum without a moment's hesitation. They're not as rich as the Todoroki's or live in as big a house with as good food, but they're happy. •And when Shouto declines, Izuku isn't really sure what to do.

• it's not his place to tell any media or higher authorities, it'd drastically change the lives of Shouto and his siblings and would affect all of them the rest of their lives. He feels like he can't do much and a part of him feels like doing nothing means he's condoning the abuse that still happens in that home like the emotional neglect and things Shouto may not have mentioned. But he can't do anything about that right now, simply because Shouto won't let him. And while Izuku is fighting every instinct he has which is to take the Todoroki siblings out of there and into a therapist's office, it's not his place to do that.

•So instead, he does what he can for them, like offer to go places more so they're out of the house. Offer free anonymous therapy sites. Have their own improv therapy whenever needed. Promise to be there for whoever trusts him and for those who it may take longer to trust him.

•But with all his good intentions, he starts to bite off more than he can chew. Even when it's not in the midst of midnight therapy or distracting days out, it's constantly nagging at the back of his mind that he wants to do more and he isn't doing everything he can. He doesn't want to "fail" at being a good friend, since he hasn't had many experiences to base off (or any for that matter) but he is running out of emotional room.

•Contrary to the Todoroki household, Inko Midoriya actually notices when her child is going through some rough times and tries to do her best to help.

•I imagine Inko and Midoriya have a close relationship. With no other reliable parent figure in the house, they spent a lot of time together. Not only are they parent and child, but they are also friends who enjoy each others company. Inko may not always understand his fascination with All Might but she'll always ask questions and prompt him to go on about the differences in All Might's costumes and moves, even if she knows all the answers already in the same way Izuku may not understand why she enjoys sewing so much ever since she made him his hero costume but will not hesitate to help her go shopping for and carry new fabrics as she talks about the colours and texture helping boost peoples confidence. (She wants to get better at sewing so she can make a new costume for him that's better than ever before.) •And because Inko and Izuku were rather close, she knew his tells. she'd learnt well from their daily game nights to know when he lying and when he was hiding things. But that was during games. This was far more strenuous. But before she rushed in and crowded him, Inko thought that if there were really something he didn't want her to know, then she shouldn't know. So long as it doesn't hurt him. So, respecting the fact he is now a teenage boy and not a child anymore, she knew he was smart enough to make his own decisions.

•But also being herself, she still wanted to help, even if she didn't know exactly what was going on.

•At first, she thought Izuku wasn't sleeping enough because of the stress of UA so she'd plan days to the seaside or mini-holiday or they could try to make a new dessert or do a movie marathons to distract him from it. And she always took note of how very time she offered, he'd always insist some way or another that the Todoroki's join them which of course she had no quarrels with, she was delighted he loved spending so much time with his friends!

•When that didn't help she offered to get him a tutor, maybe he was anxious about his studies? She didn't trust her own education enough to tutor him as he was always impressing her with fun trivia and general knowledge but she'd taken a break in her sewing hobby to save up some money to be able to pay for a tutor.

•But when he began not eating as much, mind always preoccupied with something else than his usual hero ideology and theories, the day of the annual parent-teacher meeting and Izuku hadn't uttered a word since he got home, she sat him down on the couch, held his hands, his scarred and trembling hands, and she asked him. "Are you alright?"

•She's asked this many times before, every time he came home from school, every time she found him up in the middle of the night shakily drinking some water while staring at his phone as if expecting some death from the family. But this time? •This time her words echo in Izuku's head, getting louder and louder with each reverberation, picking up speed and other voices with every hit to his mind, the sound of text messages, quiet telephone calls, rushed breathing, stifled words, hearing footsteps from the other line, the need to help all drowning him in a cacophony of utter helplessness. •And he crumples against his mother, clawing onto her shirt like a life-jacket barely keeping him afloat above the ocean of noise only he is in and he cries. The tears stain Inko's cardigan and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him onto her lap like she used to when he was a child, she holds her son, her baby boy, as his tears dampen her clothes and his voice breaks choking on sobs.

•It was a long day.

•Izuku and Shouto had talked before about telling Inko or an adult or just anyone but there was always some reason, some excuse why it couldn't happen yet. It would be a decision all the siblings would have to agree to as it affects all their lives. Fuyumi was always hesitant, so cautious and making sure if anything were to happen nothing could be left to chance and all outcomes had to be planned. Natsuo wanted whatever would help everyone the most, and if no one was ready to do anything right now, then he'd wait. Shouto thought long ago that if what his father did to his family ever came to light, it would be brought up for the rest of his hero career and he'd never be able to truly escape his dad's hold if it always followed him like that. And until he met Midoriya, that's what he thought for years.

•Shouto was warming up to the idea of saying what happened to him specifically to someone. To see what would happen.

•And that is what Izuku could let slip. The things Shouto had told him at the sports festival, the reason for his scar, his spiteful technique and motivation to be a hero. •It was a long day. •The moment all was said and done, that he had run out of tears to cry, that he had ruined his mother's cardigan by stretching it with his grip and made it soggy with his sobs, that he could breathe without a hiccup or tremor interrupting him, he was completely drained. There was a mix of hollowness after spending so long building it all up, unsure every step of the way whether he's doing the right thing or not and the relief of finally letting there be room for him to breathe.

•But in his hollow chest was a stab of guilt, anxiety, crawling back up his throat and blocking his lungs like a thick mucus of worry. Had he done the wrong thing? It wasn't his place to say- He should have talked with Shouto more about this- Was he wrong to have done nothing so far?- Oh god he's done nothing right- this could hurt them-

• "Shhh," Inko gently held the back of his head and rubbed small circles with her thumb into the back of his neck, like she used to to do calm him down as a child, it still worked "It's-..." Inko collected her thoughts. It was certainly a lot to process, she had her suspicions but she thought she was being paranoid. She'll learn to trust her gut more. "It's not alright right now, but one day it will be. For you and for them."

•And that worry in his chest turned to blunt guilt, he shouldn't be the one crying while Shouto and his siblings have withstood literal torture all their lives, he should be stronger, he needs to be stronger to help them-

•"You are children. And none of you should have to deal with this. I know you're growing up faster than I can blink and you're being a hero more and more every day, but that doesn't mean you were prepared for this exact situation. They train you to fight villains and criminals and how to save those in immediate peril who want saving. Not thins like this." Inko continued to speak softly, pulling Izuku closer and soothing the back of his neck "Thank you for telling me and I can understand why you wouldn't want me to meddle as it may be out of my depth, but, two people helping them is better than one."

• Midoriya told Shouto what had happened and apologised for spilling too early, apologised for not doing enough, apologised for being less than open about the emotional and mental space he had to spare, promising to be more aware of it so long as Shouto continues to trust him and talk when needed. Shouto was confused as to why Midoriya was apologising so much as always and despite the apprehension in his movements, Shouto had spent enough time with Inko to trust her. And also to know that while Inko is kind, that isn't all she is.

•Shouto had seen her repay the kindness people had shown her tenfold with gifts, acts of service, compliments, reassurance and more. And something about that deep-rooted kindness tipped him off to the idea that if someone were to take advantage of her kindness or her son, that injustice too shall be repaid. And, as slow as it was and as long as it took, he knew she considers him her son too.

• Overall, the parent-teacher meeting was going well for most students. Most students were in their more casual clothes except those who had been too lazy to change out of their school uniform for the day albeit having their shirts scandalously untucked and top buttons undone (Except for Bakugo who in the presence of his mother for the first time had his tie actually tied, truly it was a sight to behold and blackmail photos to be used for months.)

• Amidst all the parents gathering together while waiting for the respective teachers to be free of their current appointments, there he was. Enji Todoroki, Endeavour in his hero costume supposedly fresh from the job. • And thus, politely fuelled by karmic fury the 5'2 force of nature marched up with a smile to the flaming rotting piece of shit excuse she can barely call a human being and greeted him.

• "Oh, hello Enji." Inko smiles. Izuku stands back with Shouto on the sidelines, watching the encounter unfold. • First of all, the informality caught him off guard. Usually, he'd be used to fans being "Overly-friendly" but something about the smile in her voice didn't sit right with the way fans usually say it. This turned a few heads.

• "And..who are you?"

• "Why I am so glad you asked, my name is Inko Midoriya, the woman whose house your son goes to every day but I suppose you wouldn't know that since as long as he's keeping up his work then there is nothing else to do with him at all," she coughed ", like parenting," and continued "Speaking of being in public I could never be as confident as you are to go to a casual event in a full-on hero costume but I suppose if it helps boost your ego then go for it! Although, speaking from the perspective of a concerned parent, aren't all of those flames a safety hazard! what if you were near a flammable thing like, oh I don't know, civilians clothes in a place you know where said civilians are tightly packed together, or there could be someone well-known to have a flammable quirk nearby or just a building's structure being, on the whole, a rather flammable thing?" Her head turned to the overgrown vermin who lead the school who had entered the room upon hearing there was a commotion "Not that I doubt UA's defence measures and predicted disastrous occurrences as no such thing has ever failed in the past. It's just the safety of children and the future generation of heroes after all." and just as quickly turned back to Endeavour

•"You know I noticed there are plenty of other pro-heroes here who are just fine in their everyday clothing because they recognise this get together is about their children's achievements and not their own. Why, if I didn't know any better I'd say you really are that insecure in your title slipping because that's what being a hero is all about, the title, that you'd distract entire families from the point of being here just to pay attention to you because it's not like being the second supposedly best hero there is credits you any attention."

• Enji barely had time to stop the flames protruding from his hero suit from dying out as peoples heads turned to pay attention. By now every student had pulled out their phone to record the situation.

•Nedzu was on his way over, laughing awkwardly ready to diffuse the situation but had miraculously been needed for a sudden important event in the teacher's lounge and was immediately escorted by Aizawa and Present Mic.

•"Oh and may I go on and say you truly are an inspirational story of how being raised as a gifted child must have been really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your life thinking you’re worth a damn without your quirk so you made it your entire personality until you developed your own actual personality because of course you, the Number Two hero would outgrow such a childish nature. That sounds rough," she pouted in mock sympathy.

• Endeavour snarled behind gritted teeth, barely stopping himself from acting out of hand at the public slander. "Just who do you think you are-"

•"Like I said, my name is Inko Midoriya, the pleasure is all mine I'm sure, or did you not hear me the first time while that fire was covering your ears? just like how it must have covered your eyes with choosing that outfit to be approachable. Oh do excuse me if that seemed rude, I'm a seamstress as a hobby you see so I tend to have an eye for when things are just wrong in every way. Honestly, if you didn't parade your title everywhere you go I'd mistake you for a villain on sight. You see, I'm only a seamstress and not a hero like you as you love to flaunt no matter the situation or need for it, but it must be so rewarding to save all those people every day and return to a home with your loving children and children who want to do the exact same thing and be exactly like you because you must be such good role-model and parent to have accomplished so much in your career and of course spent enough time on each of your children to help them grow to be happy, full of inspiration and their own dreams to fulfil. Oh, and of course your wife who must be so proud of the person you've become!"

• By this point the flames had been sputtering at random, a rare purple and even blue flamer erupting once and again as this woman continued talking and the parents out the corner of his eye who thought they were out of his sight nod their head and faces contort into realising the full weight of the truth they already knew but now understand.

• But Inko was nowhere near close to done, Endeavour could hear as much when she took a small break to smile and take a bigger breath to continue. • And blinded by the public's disapproval of everything he had convinced he had Done for the good of the civilians, he could feel the ground, just like his title, being pulled from under him as quicker heroes hit the back of his knees as Inko swung her handbag with the metal buckle across Endeavours face while she was being pulled safety away from the punch Enji hadn't realised fast enough he had thrown.

• The videos uploaded by students went viral in seconds

•"shocked" by the number two hero's emotional outburst with malicious intent to harm an unarmed civilian, Inko let it be known she found it unsuitable that he go back home to his children and instead of that they live with her and make a record with either police or a licensed therapist to make a note of any other emotional outbursts or strange and potentially dangerous behaviour in complete confidentiality.

[ttylfedora]

How long will I love you?

To the discord, I am SORRY. I turned this into something a bit less painful than what I put you all through. I hope this makes up for it💚

I haven’t reread this through so all of the mistakes are from the first type, I do apologise.

Characters belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

TW for anxiety, anxiety attacks and just all round angst

How long will I love you? In which Finn questions his feelings.

There was never a day that went by where Leo did not love Finn and Logan. There was never a day that went by where Logan did not love Leo and Finn. However, there was one day that went by where Finn questioned his love for Leo and Logan.

He woke up and just felt wrong. Suffocated, would be a better term. He looked to his left to find his sleeping boys, curled up against one another as though they were gravitationally attracted to each other; nothing in the Universe could separate them. Nothing could separate Leo and Logan. Leo and Logan. Not Leo, Logan and Finn.

He felt suffocated and there was nothing he could do about it. He swung his legs over the side, only to rest his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Why was he feeling like this? He should love his boys. Love his boys like his boys loved him. Worship his boys like his boys worshiped him but it felt wrong. For whatever reason, it felt wrong and he couldn’t pin point it. And he hated it.

He turned his head round to look at his boys again. Leo was on his back, snoring slightly, the sun light from the bedroom window hitting him in a way that made him look regal. His nose twitched slightly and he rolled onto his side into Logan. Logan; the boy who has filled his heart with so much joy for the past eight years, the boy who was there for him through thick and thin at Harvard and then again in Gryffindor, curled more into Leo, his nose nestled in to the crook of the younger boys shoulder. These were his boys, his boys that he should love unconditionally, but also the boys that were tearing his heart apart.

He stood up, stretching his back out and made his way into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. It was there that he cursed himself for thinking he couldn’t love his boys. It tore him apart. Ripped him to shreds. Annihilated every fibre of his being because how couldn’t he love his boys? He put it down to his own selfishness and insecurity.

Of course he loved his boys, there wasn’t a thing they could do to make him unlove them. Sure Logan left his dirty clothes on the floor after a shower, and Leo doesn’t know the definition of an inside voice, but those were the things that made them them. Those were the things Finn had fallen in love with. So why was he so torn up?

Of course his boys wouldn’t leave him. However it was still a deep rooted fear, one that gnawed at the deepest part of his subconscious. He propped his hands on the counter and took a steady breath, a lone tear trailing a path down his face. Of course he loved his boys, he was being stupid. That lone tear turned into streams, and those streams turned into waterfalls until he was hiccuping so much he couldn’t hold himself up. He collapsed against the cupboard doors and slid down them, curling into a ball on the floor.

Everything hurt. Every thought; every feeling; every memory; every bone, joint, limb. Everything. He stayed there, attempting to calm himself down and was oblivious to the gasp as the kitchen door opened again.

“Fish?”

Finn looked up, and his heart broke all over again. Logan was stood in the doorway, concern and worry sewed into every line in his face. Finn cried harder, wiping his hands across his face.

“Finn, baby, what’s wrong?” Logan walked over and sat beside Finn, one hand on his knee, the other rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder. Finn leaned into the touch, grateful for the contact. “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever’s going on, we can get through it, okay?”

Finn only sobbed harder. Guilt filling up his entire body. How could he even doubt his feelings for a second?

“I-“

He couldn’t even string together a sentence. Logan moved his hand to hold the back of his neck, rubbing circles into his hairline, the place he knew Finn loved being touched.

“Baby, it’s okay if you can’t use your words right now. It’s so okay. Would you like me to get you a glass of water?”

Finn nodded his head ever so slightly but Logan didn’t move. No, he felt another presence looming above him and heard the tap turn on. Leo sat down on his other side and held out the glass of water to him, placing his other hand on the small of Finn’s back and rubbing tentative circles there. Finn accepted the glass of water and took a shaky sip, and then another, and then another. The glass was drained slowly, helping Finn regulate his breathing slightly and calming him down. Neither Logan nor Leo said a word, knowing that Finn needed to calm down on his own but were both aware that their presence was needed.

“There we go,” Leo said softly, taking the glass from him, “I’ll fill this up again for you, okay?” Finn nodded slightly, feeling slightly colder when Leo removed his hand.

Of course he loved his boys.

Leo sat down again and Finn rested his head against the cupboard door again, letting out a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. Leo and Logan both tensed up, looking at each other with confusion written across both of their faces.

“Sorry for what, Fish?” Logan asked carefully. He could sense Finn was holding in a lot. He had a tendency to do this, to bottle things up until they were too much to handle. He had seen this happen a few times before while they were at Harvard, but never since then. This was new.

“I just-“

A sob threatened him. Leo held his knee and continued rubbing circles on his back, shushing him ever so slightly to coax the tears out. He needed a cry, that much was evident.

Finn took a shaky breath, and continued.

“I just, it hurts sometimes. It pains me knowing how much you both love each other and how much you both love me. I just don’t think I show you guys enough how much you mean to me, and it hurts because I’m scared that that fear is rubbing off on me.” He choked out. He held his head in his hands again, catching his breath once more, and removed them, letting them sit in his lap.

His bottom lip quivered as he started to play with a thread on his pyjama bottoms, hyper aware of the tear that landed on his arm coming from the boy on his left. “And I don’t want you guys to think that I don’t love you, because I do. I love you both so much, but I’m scared. How long will I love you? I don’t want there to be an expiration date but I’m scared.” Tears were once again free falling from his face.

“Finn, baby,” Leo started, the shakiness in his words more prominent than the younger boy would have liked, “Logan and I don’t need big acts of love from you to prove your love to us. Just you being here does that. Love is a big and scary thing. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed by it. But that’s what we’re here for. We’re here for the anxiety, we’re here for the hurt, we’re here for you. Okay? And if that means you need more reassurance than we’re giving now then that’s okay. Okay? Talk to us, baby.”

“Remind me how you’re the youngest.” Finn said in a quiet voice. Leo let a shaky sigh of relief out.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, us, mon rouge,” Logan began, his hand still placed in the back of Finns neck, still rubbing circles, “and nothing that you say or do will take away from that. Is there anything we did that caused this?” He asked carefully.

Finn stared down at the floor again, suddenly very interested in that loose thread on his pyjamas. He shook his head. “No, I just-“ he started, words failing him once again. “I just got caught up in my own head again I guess.” He sighed.

“And that’s okay, but we’re here for you to unload. Being up in your own head will hurt after a certain point. We will love you until the day we die and even longer after that. We want you to be okay, and be happy, but we need to work on talking things out, non?” Leo asked, ever the more level headed one. Finn nodded and looked up at them both.

Tears stained both of their faces, but they were both smiling.

“We love you, Fish, and will love you forever and always.” Logan left a small kiss on his freckled shoulder. “Would you like to go back to bed or curl up and watch a movie on the couch?” He asked in way of hoping to distract Finn.

“A movie sounds great actually.” Finn sighed, accepting Leo and Logan’s hands up. He was pulled into Leo’s side, Logan crushing into him too.

“I love you Fish.” Leo said softly, placing a kiss onto Finns lips.

“And I love you as well.” Logan repeated the sentiment, only placing a kiss onto his jawline this time.

Of course his boys loved him. And of course he loved his boys.

[theirmajesty2139]

Hi! Me again :D Can I request hcs for the outlast boys with a partner who practices ballet and is really good at it?? Thanks!

My life is a Mess right now so I want to do something wholesome

Outlast boys with their dancer s/o 🩰

Chris: is a little big to dance with you in public but will try to copy your dance moves when the two of you are at home. His extra chub jiggles when he moves and he gets self conscious. You think it’s adorable. He likes the soft music of ballet because it’s soothing and reminds him of you which helps when times are hard. He goes to every one of your shows and claps so loudly at the end. He hates public spaces so sneaks in and sits at the back when the lights go down. He tries to listen to you mumble about steps when you rehearse at home but often falls asleep and his snoring drowns out the music.

Eddie: loves how graceful you look when you dance and think it’s an excellent way for you to get exercise. He was never professionally trained to dance but thinks slow dancing is romantic. You let him lead the dance even though you know what you’re doing and he really doesn’t because it makes him feel manly . He likes to watch you dance around the house and will sing while you dance even though all of his music is from the 1800s. He comes to every rehearsal and will get very jealous if any of the male instructors get too close to you. He will come backstage after every show with a bouquet of red roses to congratulate you on a wonderful performance.

Trager: wants nothing to do with any of it. You will not make him dance, no sir! He’s childish and will mess with your costume and props just to get a rise out of you. One time he took it a little too far and the tulle of one of your leotards tore. He refused to admit it but he felt horrible and used his expert surgical skills to sew it back to new. Makes no promises to be at your show because his job keeps him very busy but he always manages to show up. He will leave before the curtain closes and when you return home he will have ordered food and will deny that he even knew you had a show.

Frank: is surprisingly graceful and will manage to memorise your routine without going to any of your rehearsals. he’s a very smart man and you think that if he wasn’t so lazy he might end up being a better dancer than you. Will always help you with warmups and will stretch with you, showing you a few yoga poses along the way. He likes to workout in the grass outside and feel one with nature, you end up doing your routines right there with him, the breeze and company is surprisingly good. He worries relentlessly about your diet and eating habits before every show and loves to watch you eat proper meals. He tells you that buying a ticket to see your show would contribute to capitalism but he’s willing to make an acceptation because it’s for you. When you return home from your show he cooks you dinner.

Jeremy: is indifferent to the hobby itself but pays attention because it’s your thing. He would go crazy for anything you’re passionate about. Is happy to sit for hours after work and watch you rehearse. He ordered all the books and read all the online articles online so understands how the practical side of dance works. He will critique your every move to help you be perfect, this isn’t always helpful. He pays for your own instructor so you don’t have to have lessons with other people if you’re not feeling up to being social. He once bought out every seat at the theatre so your dancers only performed for him, after a fiery argument he promised never to do that again. He still buys three seats and sits in the middle at each show so he doesn’t have to be close to anyone. Will take you out somewhere fancy after your performance.

Miles: does not understand what’s happening. Looks like he loses all his brain cells when you talk about dance. He is playful and will try to grab your butt when you rehearse at home. He was banned from coming to rehearsal at the studio after the incident with the mustard and the balance beam (don’t ask) but he’s always cheering you on in spirit. Tried on a pair of your ballet slippers and almost broke both his ankles. He talks about how sexy you look in a leotard all the time and can be very distracting when you’re trying to dance. He sneaks into every show through the back so he doesn’t have to buy a ticket. He once accidentally fell asleep in one of your shows, he snored and you will never let him forget it. He always tries to film the performance on his camera. After every show he follows you and your dance friends to the bar and buys everyone a drink to celebrate. He’s the most popular guy in the troupe until he gets drunk and starts talking about how you’re more attractive than all the other dancers. You have to make him apologise the next day.

Waylon: is very supportive and will sit quietly while you rehearse. Doesn’t mind spending your time together going over steps or accompanying you to costume fittings. Likes to take pictures of you while you dance and refuses to delete them even if you think they’re bad. Is popular among your friends at the studio because he brings snacks and coffee after each long rehearsal. Wants to learn along with you but is very clumsy so is happy just to watch from the sidelines and not embarrass himself. He will come early before every show to wish you luck and kiss away your nerves. He keeps every ticket and brochure of all your shows just because they have your name on them, he keeps them all in a little cardboard box under his bed with all his other special things.

[etherealluminescence]

Shdjdjjddjjs okay but, more buff cat hcs when ?? But seriously, i know it probably counts as crack hc but i enjoyed it way to much i cant get it out of my head anymore, i havent laught so much in a while now sjdjchdj. I sure hope the buff cat saga will continue !!

You know what? I’ll give you some buff cat content now. 😤 my school work can wait. And trust me, the buff cat saga WILL continue. I just tend to work on requests first rather than my own wants haha.

I’m really happy you like buff cat! Buff cat is my life now. Constantly haunted by buff cat. Maybe one day I’ll introduce a girlfriend or friends for buff cat too 🤔

Maybe I’ll do a background about buff cat and how they met MC?? And why buff cat is so attached to MC? I don’t know. 👉👈 maybe if someone requests, otherwise I’ll just do whatever I feel like in the moment.

Anyone can also feel free to request any buff cat scenarios!! If not I’ll think of some up. THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY. I WROTE THIS LIKE 1 HOUR OR SOMETHING STRAIGHT AHA.

The boys react to buff cat teaching you

Lucifer

Lucifer had noticed your grades were improving recently, and wanted to take you out to eat for working so hard to both keep up with your class.

When he came to your room, he saw a scene that honestly shouldn’t of surprised him, but did anyways.

You were sitting at your desk, books sprawled across the entire surface area of it. On top of a book pile was buff cat, wearing a pair of glasses, and he was using a pointer to show you important parts you should remember.

He watched in awe as you two never exchanged any words, but you were scribbling down definitions and important notes, while buff cat turned the pages and reviewed your work.

He’s gotten fairly use to buff cat cooking, cleaning, intimidating others, but he has never seen buff cat act like a teacher before, it was sort of new, and he even had a teacher outfit.

He swears that he never sees you buying these outfits, or that people in the devildom actually sell muscular cat clothing.

Buff Cat is the first to break the silence, looking over at Lucifer and positioning his pointer at Lucifer’s head, and then to in front of your desk.

You were still focused on your studying, knowing that you were steadily improving. Buff Cat got out a notepad from one of your desk drawers, and wrote “Leave what you require on this note, I am instructing MC right now, and when we are done tutoring I will give this note to them.”

Lucifer ended up having to take a rain check on taking you out to eat, and learned that your cat has really advanced vocabulary.

Mammon

He was failing the majority of his classes, and ended up asking you for help. You were his best shot, and you seemed to be passing all of your classes with flying colours.

You said you were happy to help him! Except that someone else was actually helping you study. They were a very efficient teacher.

He was relieved to hear that you’d introduce your teacher to him, until he found out it was that fucking demon spawn from hell.

He screeched so hard and ran out of the room, crying like a girl. “aAAAAaaaaAAAH”

Mammon is terrified of buff cat, and now you’re telling him this cat has the intelligence of a genius? You came to the devildom like a few months ago how is this cat tutoring you and making you pass your classes with ease??

He swears your cat is trying to plot for world domination or something. Will NEVER ask you to study with him again.

Leviathan

You walked into Levi’s room trying to find buff cat. It was a Sunday, which was typically a boys night out between them, but it was getting pretty late and you need to study.

There was a test tomorrow on devildom history, and you wanted to review one more time with buff cat, as to make sure you’ll do well on it.

“Mr. Kitty, are you here?” You called out, as soon as you said that Buff Cat paused the game and ran up to you. Levi was slightly annoyed as Buff Cat was beating a hard level for him, but he is your cat above all else.

You smiled as Buff Cat greeted you, and apologised for interrupting them. You explained to Levi how you wanted to review for the test, and if it wasn’t an issue could he spare around 20 minutes?

Levi huffed and agreed and called you a normie, and was about to pick up his switch when your words finally set in.

You put down the book you were carrying and got out a pencil, and took a piece of paper out of the book. You began writing down all of the important stuff on the paper while Buff Cat watched over your shoulder.

When you were finished, he went into the book with you and showed you a couple things you’ve missed or had forgotten, and then got you to write it down three times each as to remember. He even wrote a few essay questions for you which you got.

Levi was impressed. Not only did Buff Cat seem to know the whole devildom history by heart, he knew the exact pages and lines, and even how to write.

He didn’t really care as long as Buff Cat beats the hard level for him. He just considers it to be cool.

Satan

Satan was impressed with your high grades. It must be hard for a human to suddenly learn about a whole new realm, right? So if you had Cs he would understand, but you were getting 97s and 94s.

He understood everything when he started to notice what kind of books Buff Cat had been reading in his room, recently.

You all were having a test on curses soon, and Buff Cat came by his room and began looking for books about curses, and similar ones to what you all had been learning about.

Satan ended up chuckling to himself and found it amusing. It was amazing how your cat even spent his free time coming to someone’s room, finding books for your tests, and reads them before going back to you to help you understand the content.

He likes to get coffee with Buff Cat and talk about the stuff you’re learning in classes, he never directly said it to you, but he helps Buff Cat find specific books when Buff Cat comes over.

Asmodeous

Lucifer decided to punish the house of lamentations by taking away all of their electronics after they did something stupid again. The only way to earn it back, was through getting an 80% or higher on their next test.

You and Asmo suffered because you would normally look up answer during your test, and Asmo had no social media or contact with any of his friends with benefits.

You two weren’t ashamed to beg Buff Cat for help to pass your next test. He was probably the smartest in the house. He goes to Satan’s room almost every day and purchased books when he goes out. Your cat even tutored you when you were in elementary school.

You and Asmo barely needed to convince Buff Cat, as he was ecstatic to help you again. He’d do anything to help you, and was even willing to help Asmo out as well.

Asmo thought that Buff Cat looked REALLY adorable in his teacher’s outfit. A suit, tie, glasses, and his claws were so shiny from their manicure earlier.

Buff cat even slicked his fur back to look like he gel’d his hair. He was a literal fashion icon. Asmo could do some sewing, but nothing to the degree Buff Cat did.

Buff Cat had so many outfits he made himself, and he even did them so quickly. They all turned out perfect. Oh right, this was about studying wasn’t it?

Asmo never really asked questions about why your cat could just be so smart, and more so focused on how cool your cat looked. Priorities.

Beelzebub

Beel and Buff Cat are gym buddies, so naturally they’d walk home together from the gym. Everything was fine until Buff Cat’s MC senses were tingling, and began to walk towards you, crouching down in a store trying to figure out which notebooks to buy.

Beel thought it was pretty cool Buff Cat knew where you were, like how he and Belphie were that close to each other.

Brel asked you what you were doing, and you explained that you wanted to get some new notebooks because your old one is messy and confusing. You just scribbled whatever you could down, and were having a bit of a hard time in class.

Buff Cat immediately perked up, and you two seemed to have a conversation. He meowed and you happily said “I’d love that!”

Apparently, Buff Cat had offered to tutor you. Beel wasn’t so sure how well your cat could teach, though, considering he still is a cat, and offered to help you as well, since he wouldn’t like to see you sad from overworking yourself.

He was scribbling notes alongside with you five minutes into your first session together. Buff Cat wrote such simple explanations, and even prepared notecards ahead of time, Beel forgot he was supposed to teach you.

He is pretty fine with Buff Cat teaching you both, and once again forgets that Buff Cat is a “normal”? cat and not some weird creature that knows the answer to life.

Belphegor

Is really fucking terrified of your buff cat. Like TERRIFIED. So when he sees your cat in a teacher’s outfit sitting at the dinning room table, teaching you math, he was frozen.

He came down to get a glass of milk but what is this. Do you- do you have to do it in the living room?

There is no other reaction than physical fear coursing through his body his adrenaline is at the highest and his fight or flight instincts kick in.

He’s already fought once and that caused Buff Cat to exist in constant Buff form around him, so you can bet he is running.

Probably has a group chat with Mammon and Luke. “Buff Cat Conspiracy”. They talk about how scary buff cat is.

Diavolo

Buff Cat told Diavolo he was the one who helped you study. They were having conversation (buff cat used a notebook) and the topic of your studies came up. He mentioned how he had been helping you study, and understand the terminology in the Devildom better.

He was happy to hear that you understood it, and that it wasn’t too complicated for either of you too.

He actually asks if he can watch your study sessions, to see if he needs to lighten your workload just in case you’re pushing yourself too much.

You two allow him to watch, and he’s giving soft claps and smiles as the two of you give it your best.

Is honestly very happy with how much you two get along, and how you say it’s very simple since Buff Cat explains(meows) it in a very efficient manner.

He already knew Buff Cat was smart, but haha. Maybe he should hire Buff Cat to be a teacher or support class teacher for RAD?

Barbatos

You had grown accustomed to the devildom these past few months, and with Buff Cat with you, you were allowed to freely explore it when you want.

Buff Cat also happens to have a spare key to open the castle when he wishes.

Exam/testing season was coming up, and you knew you couldn’t study at the house of lamentation.

It was very distracting, and so you decided to go to the castle. No one will be screaming there, or trying to convince you your cat is a weird entity trying to plot world domination.

Barbatos was sort of used to seeing Buff Cat come and go as he pleases, but why were you here? Before he could say anything, you told him that you were visiting to study! And that you hope he didn’t mind that Buff Cat was going to tutor you.

Alright, so you’re studying, but why at the castle? You had to explain that it was very distracting at the house of lamentations, and Mammon was trying to convince you to get rid of your cat 24/7.

Ah, he could see that. Your cat isn’t exactly normal, and Mammon does occasionally scream like a girl. I promise I love Mammon. But it’s not like he minded, so long as you two were quiet and actually studied.

He left to clean for a bit, and when he returned to the guest room he saw you wearing a headband, violently writing down and muttering definitions at an insane pace. Buff Cat was in a teacher’s outfit, and holding out flash cards.

He’s slightly taken aback, but doesn’t show it anywhere on his face. He has never seen you so serious before, and neither has he seen Buff Cat so focused on you, as well.

He’s quite proud of you two for your hard work and dedication. He doesn’t interrupt but instead pours you three cups of tea, Buff Cat thanks him, and watches over you two.

Solomon

Solomon invited you over for a study session. He may be a little shady, but he does care for you, as a fellow human.

He was ecstatic to see Buff Cat come with you, because he still wants to dissect your cat.

He was about to talk to you about letting him research you cat, but you made yourself comfortable on his bed, and Buff Cat began to put on glasses and take out a pointer.

He didn’t have anytime to talk beforehand, as you were highlighting certain areas of your book, your cat pointing to certain parts, and you patted the bed beside you for Solomon to join.

Solomon’s plans to dissect your cat are set back another day, but he takes great interest in the way he teaches. Your cat is very methodical about how to remember things, and explains(meows) it rather simply.

He swears that your cat is not a normal human cat, but why can he sense literally zero magic power from it? If only Buff Cat could teach him that.

Solomon also gets 100% on the next test by remembering everything the way Buff Cat had taught you two.

Simeon

Absolutely chaotic man, when he sees you and Buff Cat in a classroom when school was over, he approached you two, and said hello.

You greeted him, and so did Buff Cat. He asked what you were doing after school so late, and that it was dangerous for the two of you. Buff Cat not so much but could still be in danger.

You told him you were studying for the upcoming test, and that Buff Cat was helping you.

Simeon was like!!! 💖👉👈💖💖💖💖🥰🥰🥺🥺 could I join?? This sounds so fun!! Buff Cat is so smart!!

He does not question the fact he’s studying with a cat, learning from a cat, or just how nice your cat can write on paper, like perfect handwriting.

He has such chaotic energy that he’s just like you, what a cute cat!

Luke

no.

just no.

he’s fine with your cat but does your cat have to be in buff form when you’re being taught?

he is happy you are getting good grades but please get him away from buff form buff cat.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

i'm feeling god in this chili's tonight bc of your ask to petals about your husband, feeling truly emo and very very moved you are an inspiration, can you talk about your love more if you are comfortable?

Aaaah that’s sweet, thank you! There isn’t anything extraordinary to tell really, this is going to be very boring! We met in university, were friends for about a year (I was about 18 when we met) before we started dating (actually I thought he was a big headed idiot at the very start, because he wore designer stuff at the time, etc. I was right, btw, he was an idiot, I stand by it 😂!) and have been together ever since.

We were the first of our friends to get married which was a bit scary I suppose but I’m so glad we did. I think we suit each other, opposites attract etc. He’s a bit of an introvert and has a tendency to be tetchy/grumpy but he’s very kind, has a good sense of humour and always apologises and admits when he’s wrong (which is one of my absolute favourite things about him) and is very brave in real life emergencies. He kind of gives me Remus vibes? I’m ridiculously positive and optimistic most of the time but I sometimes lose my temper, or tell it like it is, I’m usually relaxed and laid back, and I think that works for us. I also always do the boring paperwork, book holidays etc which he is infinitely grateful for, and he now he does most of the cooking, which I’m infinitely grateful for in my turn. He’s also good at sewing, not joking, which I’m shit at. Who knew??

We both read a ridiculous amount and it really pisses him off how much faster I read... I love pissing him off. He’s scarily clever. The kind of person who knows obscure random facts and knows loads of the answers to University Challenge???? Ridiculous. Very attractive too, IMO? So, before we started going out, when we were “mates”, I told him I was shit at physics, as it was true, I hadn’t done it before university, and he offered to tutor me... I mean obviously I said yes? But we were just friends. Yeah. That’s all. A Nice friend who happened to have beautiful forearms and hands and biceps and went to the gym a few times a week. And had gorgeous blue eyes and cute soft, ash coloured hair and yeah. And gives you crossbars home on his bike (there was only one bike 😱😂😂😂!!! Well mine was initially stolen and then conveniently forgot to rush out and buy a replacement ....!) Anyway, he is an excellent teacher (he works in a job related to teaching now) and I genuinely learnt lots when I wasn’t ogling, ahem. And I ended up getting better marks than him in the physics exam.... 😬😂!! He was super pissed off (I mean a mix of that and super impressed. What can I say??? Poor chap!!). My friends were so embarrassing btw, kept trying to set us up, awkward af... literally walked out and left us in one of their flats (locked us in there!!) so we would “hurry up and snog”... 🤦‍♀️! We were too cringed (babies!) then we did get together eventually (like eventually, everyone face palming thank Merlin etc)... also, we did sit near each other in the library in college, but not right next to each other as I would literally get zero study done 🙄🤷‍♀️? Don’t blame me. (PS I had disgusting, mad, unruly, thick hair, ugly glasses and hardly ever bothered wearing my lenses, and wore a horrendous orange cycling helmet and despite that, and a ton of mad Italian relatives who asked too many questions and are way too pass- remarkable, he still liked me. So I knew I was onto a winner.)

Things are not always perfect. Not that this is an advice piece, but I definitely recommend talking if you’re not happy about something. Say what the problem is, how it makes you feel, what you’d like them to do differently, maybe volunteer to do something better yourself too? Don’t get grumpy and expect the other person to know what they’re doing wrong/ what’s annoying you! And always try to respect their POV even if your initial thought is “what a load of crap”, often I change my mind or at least reach a compromise after listening to his side.

And it’s not that I don’t sometimes still get the shivers looking at him, especially if he comes in wearing a tux on a special occasion. And he sometimes says “I saw this woman walking towards me and thought she looks gorgeous and then I realised it was you” 🤦‍♀️😂 (I think he needs his eyes tested). And like I said, after being with someone so long, it’s what someone described as - your heart rate no longer speeds up every time you see them, it calms down. And when you’re with them, you feel warm and secure and home. You have insider jokes that only you two get, you have quotes from films for particular situations, you call each other ridiculous names (I won’t tell you, but it’s in my fics somewhere!), you can’t imagine them not being there. Sometimes one of you just makes a facial expression and the other one knows what you’re going to say.

I hate getting up early so he always makes me tea that’s ready for when I have to get up. He hates staying up too late so if there’s stuff that needs doing late in the evening I’ll fly around and do it and he’s in awe (honestly he’s such an early bird and I’m so the opposite, he thinks getting up before 6am is completely fine!). And he’s my best friend as well as my husband? He’s very observant. I love that he notices thing, always notices if I’m wearing something new, got my hair trimmed, makes me feel good about myself. And I feel like I can completely, 100% trust him, in everything. I’m very lucky 😭❤️ it’s not perfect, definitely not, but it’s perfect for me?

I have no idea what you were interested in knowing but there you go!

[moonlightchild-otome]

Ikemen Vampire - Jean d’Arc Route Summary Chapter 10

here is the tenth chapter!

to clarify again, I’m not very good at japanese so if anything is wrong or weirdly translated everything is on me.

of course there is going to be some spoilers so do not read if you don’t wish to know jean’s story yet.

*also little bonus at the end about Jeanne d’Arc real story! of course you don’t have to read it to understand his route in the game but it’s very interesting :)*

The Count tells MC the history of the war between France and England, also known as the Hundred Years’ War...

【 Comte 】  Jean was a soldier who led the French army during the Hundred Years War.

Jean fights for his country, France and defeats the English army. Jean d’Arc, soon after the defeat of the enemy, becomes a true hero for his people.

However, such glory won’t last for Jean :( 'The most tragic end of the world's heroes', as they say.

In the course of the battle, Jean was captured as a prisoner of war by the enemy. The King didn’t want to help him for some reason. 😡

And of course... 🙄

【 Comte 】  Jean was convicted of heresy and it has been decided that he would be sentenced to fire.

After Jean's death, the king ordered a re-examination of his treason and found him to be innocent, and he went down as a hero of France.

The fact that Jean never knew went down as a hero after his death and this won’t change the fact that he died as an innocent. The protagonist is angry because it doesn't make any sense.

From the bottom of my stomach, I feel a mixture of anger and frustration.

Here, the MC asks the Count a question. “Why did he bring him back to life after such a death?”

There's something different about the Count returning the great men of the mansion and Jean.

The MC wonders if Jean really wanted the Count to bring him back to life. Before the Count can answer, Jean appears, interrupts him, takes the MC by the arm and leads her away.

【 Jean 】  One look at this man's face is enough. I don't like it. Let's go, woman. 

As soon as they arrived in the library, Jean seems to have calmed down a little lets go of the MC's arm.

The protagonist apologises for trying to find out about his past without his permission, but Jean says that's okay. Jean says it's okay, because his life has been written about in books anyway. However, he says that he doesn't want the Count to tell her about it.

【 Jean 】  ...It's not enough to say I hate it, it's too much.

Jean says that he is not a hero and that he is no different from the children's book he used to read, The Ugly Duckling.

it hurts me so much that this is the way he perceives himself when he deserves all the love in the world </3

Jean's gaze fell on the book 'The Ugly Duckling', which was still on the table.

That’s it for chapter 10!

here is some real background info about the real Jeanne d’Arc! She is such a brave and interesting historical figure. The epitome of a real badass, fearless and powerful woman.

so, the hundred years' war, if we summarize as much as possible is a series of armed conflicts that began in 1337. which opposes the kingdom of france and the kingdom of england.

in 1328 at the death of king charles iv, the question arises as to who will inherit the french crown.

one then has the choice between the cousin of the preceding king philippe de valois and edward iii the king of england who by his mother isabelle is also a descendant of the french throne.

you can imagine putting an english king on the french throne, wasn’t seen very well. 

edward not happy, which led to a succession crisis, which lead to the hundred years' war.

obviously this conflict, quickly overcomes a simple succession crisis.

it's a mess.

what you have to remember, is that the english are gradually invading part of the kingdom of france.

in 1415, after the battle of azincourt and the english victory, the english king henry v controls much of the north of the kingdom of france, including paris for that matter.

but it is far from being the only concern.

what you have to keep in mind is that the king of france at the time, charles vi, is reached at rather regular intervals of madness.

this obviously prevents him from administering the kingdom properly.

as a result, in parallel with the conflict with the english, a real civil war breaks out.

to find out who between his son the heir charles and his cousin the duke of burgundy will be able to take back the reins of the kingdom; the duke of burgundy is supported by the burgundians who will end up allying themselves with the english and the son of the king the heir charles is supported by the armagnacs.

but during this time, charles is betrayed by his own father who disinherits his son and after his death, gives the crown to the english.

i warned you that it was really messy.

and it is in this incredible mess that our jeanne arrives.

and where exactly does jeanne come from? from domremy.

she is also often called the virgin of orleans.

she is associated with the city of reims, but jeanne was originally born in domremy.

and where exactly is this place? domremy is this little town to the west of the city of the vosges department, on the banks of the meuse river.

isn't it pretty?

this is jeanne's birth house,

she would have been born around 1412. the building classified as a historical monument since 1840 includes in addition to a cellar, three large rooms originally used to house the whole family, her parents and four siblings.

according to jeanne's trial, it is here that she would have learned to sew or weave which were two occupations of the young girls of the time.

her father was a ploughman, so she often had to look after the animals.

and since she is very pious she spent a lot of time praying.

she went on pilgrimage at least once a week, for example in the notre dame de bermont chapel, about three kilometres (as the crow flies) from her birth house.

and jeanne d’arc, as you may have guessed, wasn't always called jeanne d’arc.

no, in history she has had different names and official nicknames.

there are of course the best known ones: the virgin of orleans, jeanne the virgin or even just the virgin and in the vicinity of domremy she was also called the jeannette de rommée, in connection with her mother's name. she has even signed several letters with the name jehanne.

and it's even more complicated if you're interested in her surname “d'arc”.

which was originally written darc, without the apostrophe. here again there have been many variations, and i'll mention a few of them: tarc, dars, darx and even d'ailly or daly according to the phonetic transcription of her name, with a lorraine accent. from there we move on to duly, then du lys.

when the king ennobled jeanne and her family, it is written on the deed, la dame du lys in reference to the royal coat of arms.

this is the magnificent bois-chenu basilica, which was built between 1880 and 1940 in honour of jeanne.

and for the record, this incredible basilica was sometimes considered to be the place where jeanne would have heard voices.

however if we refer to the trial, it is in her father's garden, near the house, that jeanne would have started hearing voices, celestial calls, coming from saint catherine of st. margaret's and the archangel saint michael.

the divine mission entrusted to her was very “simple”.

she was only commanded to be a cavalier, to cross a kingdom occupied by the english to go and find the future charles vii and convince him that she is the one sent from heaven.

to help him to take his place on the throne by her coronation in reims.

to show him how to liberate the kingdom of france, of the english presence.

it seems to be an easy enough mission for me. 😅 (nope)

so obviously you can imagine that the people didn't take her seriously right away. it took a few years before she managed to convince the world that she wasn't completely crazy.

- jeanne?

- yes?

- this is the voice.

- is someone talking to me?

- you are the chosen one, jeanne, join me.

- yes, i'm coming.

- i hope you like human barbecue. (ok i'll stop :/)

how is the legend of jeanne forged? how does one go from being a peasant girl eager to help, to jeanne of arc, heroine of the kingdom of france?

this is le centre d’interprétation (the interpretation centre), which is just behind jeanne of arc's birth house and retraces her youth and adventures.

her journey is incredible, at 17 years old, jeanne can't stand not doing anything anymore, she has been hearing voices urging her to act for four years now.

so she decides to return to the châtellenie de vaucouleurs, to meet captain robert de baudricourt, one of the king's faithful followers and after several vicissitudes, she manages to convince him. it wasn't easy, i remind you that her main point was that she hears voices. but yeah, he finally agrees to send her with an escort, join the heirn in chinon.

the journey is quite long and above all risky, we are talking about more than 500 kilometres and in this period of turmoil, the dangers were quite present especially if you look at the map, one realizes that the small expedition crosses areas not controlled by the enemy coalition.

fortunately, everything went well for jeanne, who arrives at her destination on march 1429 and gets an audience with the heir two days later. he was quite suspicious of this young woman at first, who claims to hear divine voices but according to the story she made a revelation to him that we don't know which eventually convinced him.

for the entourage of the suitor of the throne, it's not that simple and you can understand them, betting on jeanne is a little bit like a poker game. so they insist that she will be given a few interrogations, she is questioned about her life, about her morals and finally confidence is established, she is equipped with military equipment. she then undergoes mini combat trainings and here we go, her dream is about to come true, she joins a supply convoy in blois and on april 22nd, with more than 4000 men, she is headed for orléans.

the arrival of jeanne of arc changes many things.

her faith, her confidence in victory gives hope to the soldiers and to the inhabitants, who are filled with new energy. they manage to win in less than 10 days, 10 days and the english are obliged to give up their plan, which consisted of taking the city and then attacking the south of the loire.

jeanne who comes out of this battle with this image as a victorious, ultra badass woman and just earned her nickname... la pucelle d'orléans (the virgin of orleans).

thanks to her victory in orleans, jeanne thus becomes a kind of national heroine. she represents by her fame and her qualities, a not insignificant asset for the heir in his fight against the english and the burgundians.

but what makes a real difference is less her qualities as a war strategist and more her ability to charm and to galvanise the troops and the inhabitants along the way.

it's quite simple, before jeanne's arrival, the english had a reputation for never losing their invincibility.

and jeanne achieves the feat of restoring confidence in a possible victory.

it gives the impression to the troops that they are going to receive a kind of divine help and it changes everything in the soldiers' minds, all the more so because before her arrival there was a prophecy, who said that a virgin would help defeat the english so when jeanne arrives, everyone thought "it's ok, we're saved"!

jeanne persuades the future king to start a ride to reims who is in the middle of enemy territory, to be crowned.

jeanne thus succeeded in carrying out one of the following missions which were supposedly entrusted to her by the voices she hears; in other words, since she has succeeded, she is necessarily an envoy of god, and that for the mood of the troops, it makes a huge difference.

unfortunately after the time of victories comes the time of defeats.

after the coronation, the king and jeanne no longer really agree. she is convinced that her mission is to keep the english out of france.

the king, for his part, is longing for a little rest.

for example, he does not feel at all capable of taking back paris, while jeanne, a little bit stubborn, goes there anyway and suffers a failure.

on top of that she is wounded, she gets a crossbow arrow in her thigh, moreover, she breaks her sword which had for all victories...

it's a bad sign.

some people think that the virgin is abandoned by god. some time later jeanne went to compiègne, a city besieged by the burgundians and by some english contingents and once again it goes wrong, she is taken prisoner in may 1430, by the burgundians.

she tried to escape, but all her attempts failed and in november of the same year, she was sold to the english. jeanne is then taken to the castle of rouen, where members of the church judge her for heresy.

the trial was to say that charles vii was crowned thanks to a witch, she is also blamed for everything and anything, for dressing in men's clothing,

for deferring directly to god's judgement without going through the church, for hearing the voices of demons and not of saints.

jeanne really plays her life on each of her answers, in addition, she faces accusers totally committed to the english cause on her own when she was only 19 years old.

moreover, the witnesses are obviously not chosen at random, everyone who could speak up for jeanne is under pressure. everything is being done to ensure that she is condemned. finally, she ends up at the stake, on the market square, and we make sure there's nothing left of her body, to prevent it from being turned into holy relics.

and then after the end of the hundred years' war, i.e. almost 25 years later, the church reverses this first court decision. king charles vii wants to wash away the insult that was done to him through this trial and he pushes jeanne's family to ask for a review. pope calixtus iii agreed and jeanne was rehabilitated in 1456. the investigations carried out are more serious, many of jeanne's contemporaries jostle to plead in her favour and even people who had once spoken badly of her finally return to saying good things about her.

the first judgement is broken and the young woman's memory is rehabilitated.

an unusual little fact in the end - many people have not been able to admit that the story of the virgin ends up on a pyre. for them it was impossible, this story was too beautiful, this too extraordinary woman.

and it went far enough that people found stories of women, who a few years later claimed to be the real jeanne.

just imagine them saying stuff like "oh yeah, yeah it's me i didn't burn at all, my face has changed a little bit but it's me, i assure you, believe me, really".

a certain claude des armoises is said to have pretended to be her, in the metz region. after having acquired a certain renown, having been given gifts by former relatives of jeanne; she even went so far as to meet two of the virgin's brothers, who (hold on because it's completely insane) believed her.

they really believed it was their own sister who had died at the stake.

it's a crazy story!

well, we don't really know if they really believed it, or if one pretends to believe it for financial reasons for example.

in any case, this woman, who was talked about everywhere, is unmasked by the king himself, so that this fraud can be stopped.

in the end, i find this story quite unusual.

here are the friends!

i hope it wasn’t too long to read (it probably was) and that you have learned two, three little things on our dear jeanne d’arc. after all, she is one of the most famous women in history!

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (76) || atz

Tortuga is not happy to have you back.

“You were the man who took our town leader hostage! You cannot simply just stride back onto port and walk here as if you have not just committed the gravest of sins!” A portly man dressed in velvet and gold waves so furiously that his expensive silk cravat has become stained with sweat. “You, hooligans, don’t ever come back to this town!”

Wooyoung simply shrugs and makes to pick his ear with his pinky, entirely without a care in the world. You kick him in the shin and he yelps, shying away.

“Say you’re sorry!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” He protests, and Yeosang tilts his head back slightly in the middle of negotiations to fix Wooyoung with a glare so menacing you can practically see the darkness rolling off him. Wooyoung must feel the same sensation - of death stepping across his grave - because he shivers and rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe I might have done a thing or two-”

“This man… utterly unbelievable!” The official continues to rant, and even the soldiers lined up behind him are starting to wince from how piercing his voice is. He jabs a finger at Wooyoung ferociously. “I respect you, Pirate King, but the disrespect this man has shown us! Breaking into the officials’ town headquarters! Knocking out the guards! Dragging the head of this town out of his chambers in his… in his sleepwear! Preposterous, I tell you!”

Hongjoong raises his hands, a calm smile on his face to placate the official. “I deeply apologise for my crew member’s behavior. It must have been a terrible experience, but I can assure you my crew regrets his actions and is extremely repentant about his behavior.”

You look dubiously at the supposedly repentant man.

“He sleeps naked.” Wooyoung whispers loudly into your ear, a cheeky smile decorating his face. You stare at him, and then shake your head. He’s incorrigible.

“However, I ask you to understand that the situation at hand was dire, and that we had no other choice in order to go after our captain. As thanks for letting this matter slide, we’ll compensate the town head appropriately.” Yeosang’s angelic smile is at full power, and for a second you’re almost blinded by the halo settling above his head. The bag of gold coins in his hand (polished by Wooyoung for the whole of last night as punishment) somehow seem dull in comparison. “I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

The official’s eyes are like magnets, drawn to the gold. You can almost see him licking his lips. “... compensate?”

“Very handsomely.” Yeosang shakes the bag once. The sound is more alluring than any symphony or sirens’ song to your ears. Apparently, that must be the how the official feels too, because his hand reaches out to touch it, before he jerks it back to his chest, coughing lightly. “Well then, I suppose it couldn’t hurt just to let it go just this once...”

A soldier behind the official rolls his eyes to heaven in exasperation.

“However! That man is not allowed to step foot into the town, and must stay on the ship at all times. This in nonnegotiable. Also,” Yeosang hands over the bag of gold, and the official beckons Hongjoong closer. “There have been... ah... rumors... among the townspeople... Royal Navy... searching for a woman.... bounty... alive... five thousand...”

You glance over at Wooyoung, who’s sulking miserably. “You kind of deserve it. Although... thanks for doing it, to get captain and I back.”

At your words, Wooyoung instantly brightens. “No problem! It was the most fun I had in weeks anyway!” You send him a flat look, intent on chiding him, but then your captain calls your name.

To your surprise, his lips are drawn into a thin line, and there is a furrow to his brow that definitely wasn’t there before. “Chin Hae, do you... remember ever encountering the Royal Navy before meeting us?”

Frowning, you shake your head. There’s tension would tight into his face, and you feel something in your stomach sinking. “No. Why?”

Hongjoong opens his mouth to answer, but then closes it with a sigh before he can say another word. He wears a fond smile as he ruffles your hair gently, lithe fingers carding through the strands. “No matter, this isn’t the place for it. Will you come see me in the captain’s cabin tonight? We have some pressing matters to discuss.”

When he walks away, the smile melts into a grim, worried look on his face.

>>>

“Your legs are starting to hurt?”

San’s expression is filled with concern as he crouches in front of you, gentle fingers kneading and massaging your calves with practiced movements. You nod quietly, watching him as he works. “Yeah. Honestly... the same thing that happened with my hand might be happening to my legs, master.”

His fingers still, and when he looks at them, they come away white. San rubs at his temples, his face drawn taut with worry and something bordering dismay. He stares at your legs as if they could give him an answer to this question. “But this isn’t supposed to happen. Nothing happened to them, you didn’t get hurt, or stabbed, or-”

Your heart warms at the desperate concern burning in his eyes, and you reach out your hand to take his into yours, gripping it gently. When his pained gaze meets yours, you do your best to put on a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, master. I have no intention of dying. You’ll help me out, won’t you?”

San looks at you for a moment with his mouth parted, as if surprised, before it draws into a sharp, determined line. He squeezes your hand back tightly. “Of course I will. As if I’d let anything happen to you!” He rises to his feet, gestures over to the multitude of books and scrolls haphazardly piled and stuffed into every nook and cranny of the sickbay. “There’s got to be something here somewhere similar to your condition, and even if there isn’t, it’ll be somewhere in Tortuga. If it exists on this earth, I’ll definitely find it.”

Something hot stings behind your eyes, but you blink it away, gripping San’s hand tighter. “Hey, master... I... really want to live, you know? I want to keep sailing with the crew... and I want to be with all of you forever. You know that, right?”

It’s fear.

The ugly, twisting feeling coiling deep in your belly is fear. Fear that you’ll never feel the warm sunlight on your face again. Fear that you can never talk and laugh and cry with the crew again. Fear that everything might be coming to an end; an end that you simply cannot come to terms with.

You’d do anything. Anything to stay with the crew, and keep on living.

“Silly apprentice.” San rests a tender hand on your head, looking at you with so much affection you could cry. “Of course I know, because that’s exactly what I feel as well. If there’s any way, I’d take it in a heartbeat! Even if it means getting rid of captain!” He jokes, and you snort, swatting him on the arm.

“Don’t be silly, master, both you and I know that you’d never do that.”

San grins, a large cat-like smile spreading across his face, and rises to his feet, striding over to his workbench.

“Hey, we’re going to cure you. This is your master you’re talking about! You know,” he turns back to give you a little wink, “back in my home village, they called me something of a medical prodigy.”

You rise to your feet, heart so full you can barely feel the pain in your legs and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Then, master... I’ll be counting on you. I’d help you out, but first, there’s something I need to do.”

“Something you need to do?” San peeks over, curiosity brimming in his eyes as you fish out a red fox fur coat from beneath your pillow. A sly smile turns up one corner of his mouth. “Oho. Is that a gift for a certain someone?”

You poke at his side playfully. “He lost his jacket, so I thought I’d make him something to thank him. Why, unhappy you’re not getting one as well?”

San pouts and turns away, arms crossed. “As if! Now get going, I need some silence to concentrate, so shoo!” Under his breath, he mutters, “stupid captain stealing my apprentice... stealing her first handmade gift... maybe it’s really time to get rid of him...”

Giggling lightly, you step around him and out of the room, the fox fur gathered in your arms. It’s soft and warm and light, perfect for a sea voyage and comfortable to wear. You only hope your captain will overlook the some of the stray threads sticking out here and there; your sewing still isn’t perfect, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

As you step out onto the deck, empty save for loose coils of rope and a pair of wooden cleats lying on the floor, you glance down at the fox fur in your arms.

You’re going to be giving him a gift... that you made with your own hands.

What if he doesn’t like it? The thought pops into your mind and you groan, burying your face in your hands. Your cheeks feel hot, and you step over to the side of the ship to cool off and calm down. Beneath you, the ocean is like a mirror of glass, stretching out as far as the eye can see.

Calm down, Chin Hae, it’s just a jacket. And even if he doesn’t like it, so what? You could just give it to someone else!

With that thought in mind, you clench your fist, ready to get it done and over with. But before you can go, there’s a strange sound from beneath you, and you glance down in surprise as the water.

To your shock, the surface of the sea begins to ripple and swirl, disrupted by whatever’s beneath it. You can feel something rising, coming up to the surface, and its intent focused solely on you and you alone. Something in your mind screams for you to run, but your feet only stay rooted to the spot, your hands trembling and cold sweat running down your neck.

What is this?

And out of the depths emerges...

[thepointoftheneedle]

Happy New Year!

I wrote a little New Year’s Eve one shot.  It’s below the cut or you can read it on AO3 here.  (I’ve started a collection of short pieces just to keep things tidy.) I hope you are all able to celebrate safely and I wish you a healthy and happy 2021.

It was obvious that the party was going off the rails as soon as Archie started lining up shots along the whole length of the marble counter top.  He called Reggie out and Reggie never backed down from a challenge to his machismo so they both worked their way along the little bullets of stupid until, breathless and belly laughing, they slid to the floor, their eyes swivelling in their dumb skulls like cartoon coyotes that had just been smashed over the head with an Acme anvil.  It was nine fifteen. Betty had wondered if Veronica would be mad about it but she seemed in the mood for some chaos as she set up two more lines of glasses opposite each other on the counter and challenged Cheryl who had never met an unnecessary drama she didn’t like.  

Betty had drunk a very pleasant glass of good champagne and had been contemplating having a couple more before midnight.  She’d never been a big drinker so for her that was cutting loose.  It had been, to put it crudely, a shit-show of a year and she was glad to see the back of it.  At the last New Year’s party she had been showing off a dazzling engagement ring, about to start the job that she had been expensively and laboriously trained for and she and her intended had signed the lease on a cute and well appointed apartment in Sunset Park which everyone said was the up and coming neighbourhood. The world had been unfolding for her like a flower.  Then the frost had come and scorched the petals with its chill. This year she was single, her job sometimes felt like it was eating her up and that cute apartment burned through every cent of her pay check now she had to make the rent alone.  It was possible that she was the saddest girl in a cocktail dress on the whole island of Manhattan, she was certainly the soberest person at the party.

An hour later the shots were completely out of hand and Betty had only just prevented Ethel from throwing up into the piano.  Moose made some half hearted effort to restore order, offering glasses of water, trying to start a game of Charades, but Kevin was in too mischievous a mood for his efforts to bear any fruit and instead they were embarking on Drunk Jenga, the rules of which seemed to be that you took a shot whenever you removed a block and then another when you placed it on top of the stack.  She imagined you took a shot if the tower fell but she didn’t stick around to find out.  She sidled over to where the Pol Roger was stacked, neglected,  in its very own champagne refrigerator and helped herself while everyone else was supporting the economy of Mexico by the prodigious consumption of Patron Silver.

She took her recharged glass to the window and looked out at the snowy expanse of Central Park far below.  It looked like the idealised interior of a snow globe, the air glassy and still and a huge yellow moon surveying its domain.  Betty remembered walking through the park with Trev last Christmas, bundled in a thick coat and scarf.  They’d held hands inside one of his mittens. They’d made snow angels.  They’d skated at the Wollman Rink and drunk hot chocolate afterwards.  Her life had been a cover image from a romance novel. This year she had spent Christmas being patronised by Polly’s constant offers of introductions to a succession of Jason’s frat brothers and golfing buddies.  Eventually she’d pointed out that if she’d wanted some obstructionist, bigoted blowhard she could have found one herself, without Polly’s oh so sympathetic intervention.  Polly cried and Betty apologised but she still wasn’t going to go on a date with a junior vice president of acquisitions even if he did have a weekend place in Connecticut.  She wouldn’t tolerate being paraded in front of prospective suitors like a prize dairy cow at the county show, not by Veronica and certainly not by her sister.

As she reminisced she became aware of Archie and Veronica deep in conversation in the corner of the room.  “We have a teeny emergenshy,” Veronica said, her hand on Archie’s forearm.  Veronica was never less than perfectly composed but that slur at the end of her word and the ramped up sincerity gave her away to her best friend. She was sozzled. “Only two bottles of Patron left and then the cupboard is bare. I may have over-ordered on the fizz and neglected the tequila.”

Archie nodded, taking the situation as seriously as his wife.  Then some kind of light dawned on his handsome face.  “We’ll get the magic doorman to get us some.  He’ll be on duty now.  I’ll go slip him a fifty and he’ll take care of it.”  He turned to reach for his wallet and promptly fell on his face. It was ten to eleven and all was decidedly not well.

Betty went over to help Archie off the rug.  He grinned even though his nose was bloody. “Ronnie, Betty’s all sober and sensible.  She can go talk to the wizard.  Here Betty, here’s fifty for a tip and Ronnie’ll give you her credit card for the booze.  Okay?  Shit I’m bleeding… still it’s not a party til something gets broke.”

V was looking at her imploringly now.  Somewhere there was the sound of glass smashing and Monroe’s attempt to do chin ups on the kitchen doorframe seemed to be bringing plaster down on the floor.  Betty would rather be almost anywhere than right here so she nodded at her friend.  "What do you need V?”

V explained that the building’s night doorman was a kind of fixer.  When Tom in 204 had forgotten his wife’s birthday Jones had got him a gluten free chiffon cake iced with her name at two thirty on a Thursday morning along with a bouquet of out of season narcissuses....narcissi? When the little boy in 116 had told his mama at midnight that he needed a George Washington costume for school the next day the night doorman had sourced it, complete with powdered wig, before the little tyke had finished his cheerios.  When V had realised an hour before her 5.15 a.m. flight to Miami that she had completely forgotten her niece’s confirmation gift he had sourced a personalised Catholic Bible bound in white leather which he handed to her as she got into her cab.  “He’s a miracle worker B.  Just tell him we need a case…no two cases of Patron Silver before midnight.  Give him the fifty but tell him I’ll make it a hundred if he can fix it by eleven thirty. OK?”

“Sure.  On my way.”  

She travelled down in the elevator imagining the doorman.  He’d be some old guy in a uniform with gold braid on the chest. He probably knew all the residents and their dogs by name and had one of those old timey extended families so that he could reach out to Cousin Ike for last minute birthday cakes or get his nephew’s wife to sew a costume at no notice.  She needed a fixer herself since her life seemed so broken.  She wondered what he could do for a lonely woman who was trying to work out if getting a cat was too much of an admission that she had given up.

As she stepped out into the lobby she was slightly taken aback by the mismatch between her expectations and reality.  He was behind the reception desk, dark head bowed over a laptop, no braid in evidence, no grey whiskers or paunch, just this dark, poetic looking guy in a black sweater.  She approached the desk and he looked up at her, fingers still flying over the keys without him needing to glance down.  He seemed to reach a natural pause, closed the lid of the laptop and smiled politely.  “Yes ma’am, how can I help?”  His eyes were blue.  They seemed to look through her probably thinking she was just another rich girl bringing him problems.  He must get that a lot.

“Yeah, hi, I’m a guest of Mr and Mrs Lodge Andrews up in the penthouse.  They’re having a little New Year's Eve party and they’re running low on liquor.  They wondered if you could source them a couple of cases of…”

“Patron Silver?  Yes ma’am, of course.  Who should I charge it to?”  She had no idea how he could have known what she was going to ask for.  It made her want to say that they wanted Stolichnaya or absinthe or something, just to surprise him but she’d been sent for Patron and Patron she would get.

“Oh, yes, I have a credit card.” She handed it over,  “and Mr Andrews said to give you this for the trouble.”  She passed him the fifty, embarrassed.

“No incentive to get it here before the coaches turn into pumpkins?” he asked, eyebrow raised.  She thought he was making fun of her but she couldn’t be sure.  

“Oh yes, that’s right.  Veronica said another $50 if it’s here by eleven thirty.”

“Okay ma’am.  I’ll buzz up when it’s here.  If that’s all.”

“Oh please don’t call me ma’am.  I’m Betty.”

“I’m Jones... Jughead. Nickname. Long dull story.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering why she was still standing in front of his desk.

“Look, it’s a little crazy up there.  Would it be okay if I just stay down here for a minute? Just say if it’s inconvenient. I don’t want to disturb you if you’re busy.” She didn’t think she could bear to be the responsible adult at Veronica’s party for a moment longer. Here it was quiet and no one needed her to hold back their hair while they were getting sick.

“Busy getting hold of twelve bottles of good tequila on New Year's Eve but that’s all.  I just need to make a call.  Excuse me.”  He stood and walked away from the desk, his back turned to her.  It was a good back.  He was wearing the black sweater over grey slacks with a key chain hanging from one of his belt loops.  He had broad shoulders but his neck was fine, not thick and meaty like the guys who needed to lift weights to manufacture some self esteem. He was slim at the waist and the hips, long legs, tall.  The hair was the USP though, dark waves of it tumbling freely as he dragged long fingers through it, waiting for someone to pick up his call.  Finally he yelled “Hey Toni.  Yeah, two cases of Patron Silver asap.  Yeah, I’d noticed that but mark it up. Can Sweetpea drop it over?  Yeah right now.  Hey, ask him to get me a burger on the way too.”  He turned and looked at Betty with a questioning look and she shrugged and nodded, “Two, make it two.  Ok, thanks Toni.  Yeah you too.  See you Sunday.”

He ended the call and made his way back to the desk.  “My pal Toni runs a bar,” he explained with a grin. 

“Veronica says you’re magic, a wizard,” she told him.

“Nothing occult about it.  I’m just observant, that’s all.”

“Seems magical to produce a George Washington costume overnight,” she countered.  

“Oh well, that was a lucky break.  My sister’s a textile artist.  A struggling one.  I gave her the brief and she knocked up the costume in a few hours.  Now all the upper east side mommies have her business card and she can afford to buy materials and pay her rent.  She had to pull an all nighter but it paid off pretty big in the end.”

“Birthday cake?  Out of season flowers?” 

“The husband’s kind of a dick.  He forgot last year too. They had a fight about it in this very lobby so I wrote down the date and got ready to save his bacon.  If he’d remembered the date I’d have had cake for my breakfast and sent my sister a bunch of flowers.  As it was I made a couple hundred bucks.”

Betty was laughing now at the smug look on his face.  “So you could have reminded him beforehand?”

“Could have, but maybe the expense’ll help him remember next time.  Anyway if the doorman knows more about your wife than you do it might be time to review your priorities.”

“Ok but what about the Bible?  That seems pretty miraculous.”

“Actually it’s kind of the opposite. The kid’s confirmation name is Maria. Hardly original.  My buddy Joaquin’s little sister was confirmed a few months ago.  Her confirmation name’s Maria.  She hadn’t made a whole lot of use of the Bible.  Your pal paid me three hundred, Joaquin’s kid sister got two hundred in her college fund.”

“Seems like the side hustles are more remunerative than the pay check,” Betty observed.

“It’s all a side hustle.  I’m a writer.  This job’s kept me supplied with characters and plot lines and given me eight hours of mostly uninterrupted writing time.”

Betty flushed pink and jumped up from the corner of the desk where she had been leaning.  “Oh I’m so sorry. Here I am wasting your time.  I’ll be on my way.”

“No, wait,” he reached out and put his hand on her arm.  It tingled.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  This is research.  Maybe I’ll put you in my next book.  The sad girl in a party frock who’d rather be in the lobby than with her friends at a party being kissed for New Year.”

“There’s no-one to kiss up there,” she confessed with a sad smile and then, without having any idea why, she said “I broke up with my fiancé last February.”

“Aha,” he said.  “There’s the plot.  Tell me.”

“He’s great.  A really good guy.  Kind, loyal, handsome.  Everything I should have wanted. Any girl would be lucky to have him. I think I broke his heart.”

“Why?”

“We started to plan the wedding and I wanted to run away.  I couldn’t bear to think about it.  Then one day I found myself imagining what I’d do if something bad happened that prevented it, like if he got sick or if I was in a car accident or something.  It was pretty clear that I couldn’t go through with it if I preferred the idea of one of us being in a coma to the idea of my wedding day.”

“Cold feet?”

“Oh freezing but it wasn’t just nerves.  When I imagined being married to him I couldn’t see myself, I was just a blank. It was… I don’t know how to say it…like I was finished.  I’d never be anything more than I was, never change or grow or struggle.  It was all too easy.  No grit in the oyster.  I know it’s crazy.”

“You didn’t say it was you not him did you?  You didn’t do that to him?” He was smiling at her, sympathising not mocking.

She blushed.  “I did.  All the clichés.  How could I explain?  I don’t even understand it myself.”

“I understand it.  You want to find out who you can be and he couldn’t give you that.  He was happy with who you were, didn’t want you to change.  He was probably scared of losing you. Anyone would be.” He looked at her with an intensity that made her nervous so she tried to change the subject.  

“A writer then?  What do you write?”

“Mostly mystery stories.  Magazines and online so far but I’ve just got a publisher for the novel.  I’m going to quit this next year.  What do you do?”

“I’m a psychologist.  I work with kids who are in trouble.  Try to get them back on track.  I love it but it’s hard sometimes.  I hear things that it’s tough to leave at the office.”

“You need to take care of you first.  You can’t save someone if you aren’t safe yourself. ”

“Writer or life coach?” she smiled.

He chuckled.  “Sorry.  I’m not good at small talk.  I get too intense too fast and freak people out.  Oh hey, cometh the man, cometh the tequila.”  

A tall guy in a leather jacket was pulling boxes out of the back of a truck that he’d illegally bumped up the curb outside..  He looked a little scary.  Once he was in the lobby she saw that he had a snake tattooed on his neck.  He fist bumped Jughead and then pulled him into a side hug. “Hey man.  Happy new year and all that. Hey,” he said, noticing Betty for the first time. 

“Hey.  Thanks so much for bringing it over. There’s a whole apartment full of drunk idiots upstairs just waiting to make themselves sick on it. Oh!” He turned back to Betty, aghast at what he’d said. “Sorry Betty.”

“You’ll not get an argument from me.  That’s why I’m down here talking to you.”

Neck tattoo laughed and held out his hand “Sweetpea.  Pleasure doing business with you.”  He turned back to Jughead,  “So I have to get back, I’m supposed to be on the door at the Wyrm.  See you Sunday?”

“Burgers?” Jug reminded him and his friend nodded, trotting back to the truck to grab a take out bag and toss it back to Jughead who snatched it from the air like a dolphin snatching a fish at Seaworld.

Betty buzzed up to the penthouse to get one of the assembled jocks to come and collect two cases of tequila and bring down a bottle of Pol Roger and the promised fifty dollars. It was eleven twenty four.  Ten minutes later she was sitting on the reception desk eating a burger, washing it down with $200 champagne.  “This is the best New Year's Eve I’ve ever had,” she grinned, a little disinhibited by the bubbles.  

“Weren’t you engaged last year?”

“This is much better.  I was pretending last year.  Now I’m just being me.”

“I always find that works better.  The not pretending bit. Especially not with someone you can love.”

She certainly wasn’t pretending at eleven fifty nine when she reached out to him and he took her in his arms and kissed her softly as cheers and yells rang out from the parties all over the city and fireworks exploded high above the park, casting confetti of coloured lights across the marble lobby. 

As the kiss ended she looked up into his blue eyes, wondering if it was the champagne that was making her blurry and relaxed or if it was him.  She thought she’d have to keep on kissing him to know for sure.  He really was a fixer though.  Her heart felt lighter, hopeful.

He grinned.  “Spectacular as that was, this is probably the most surveilled lobby in the city.  Can we schedule the repeat for when I’m not actually on the clock?”  He gestured at the security cameras covering every inch of the space and she blushed to think that somewhere there was taped evidence of her trying to seduce the sexy doorman.

“Can I stay here and talk to you some more if I promise not to touch?”

“I wish you would.  I get off at six and I know a great diner for breakfast.  We can tell people our first date was breakfast.  They’ll be scandalised.” She couldn’t hold back at the mention of the first date, of them telling people about it, so she kissed him on the cheek before retreating back to the edge of the desk with her hands up.

They talked about her work, his writing, they compiled an ultimate New Year's Eve playlist and top tens of movies and books.  She found herself distracted by the fullness of his lips, the expressiveness of his face, the heaviness of the locks of hair that fell forward over his eyes only to be pushed back impatiently.  They agreed on almost nothing and that was exactly how she liked it.  When she crept up to the penthouse at five thirty to collect her coat and change her party shoes for snow boots, she was met with a scene of devastation.  Prostrate bodies sprawled on every flat surface.  The two cases of tequila sat unopened in the kitchen, clearly surplus to requirements by the time they had been manifested.  She picked her way through the carnage and found the coat closet where Archie had put her things when she’d arrived the night before.  Opening the door she noticed the cases of liquor stacked inside, three unopened boxes of Patron among them.  She realised that Jug wasn’t the only fixer in the building.  She made sure to lean over her sleeping friend to place a kiss on her forehead before she let herself out, locking the door behind her.

[smallblip]

Yellow chrysanthemums

Mikasasha (they’re bffs here) + a side of Jeankasa | Rated G for ‘Goddamn I’m sad’

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415435

(Spoilers for S4E9)

Little gold flower.

Her mother used to tell her. This little gold flower, perfect like the sun. It’s the symbol of our people, of nobility, of beauty-

And of grief, of sorrow so great your heart shatters into a million pieces. Like petals so numerous they’re only significant as a whole.

It represents both beauty and grief? Mikasa had asked.

Her mother had shrugged. That’s just life isn’t it Mikasa, there’s always got to be a bit of both.

But Mikasa thinks her mother is wrong. There’s nothing beautiful about grief. Nothing beautiful about the endless rows of grey headstones, of the fog that seems to cling to the cemetery, heavy like its own atmosphere. This life leaves much to be desired, but there’s nothing beautiful about death.

Not even when day is breaking and the light catches the dew on the untrimmed grass. Mikasa wonders why the grass is so long. Wonders if death is as unkempt, or if it’s pristine as white walls. She can’t figure out which she’d prefer. And already the day is breaking, and the sun- a little gold flower- tries to tear through the fog.

“Wake up Sasha...”

She says, so quietly it settles atop the fog.

She thinks about the room they share and the turmoil on Sasha’s side- clothes strewn everywhere, sweet wrappers thrown in the mix, her bow and arrow tucked under her bed. Somehow, she manages to navigate her way around the mess. “Mikasa! Can I borrow your shirt? I don’t have a clean one!” Sasha would say. “No.” She would reply, but Sasha would help herself anyway. They would talk about breakfast- it’s the same gruel every day. But somehow thinking up possibilities with Sasha made gruel more bearable.

But today, like most days, Sasha doesn’t stir.

“Wake up Sasha...” Mikasa tries again, a little harsher this time. If they don’t get going soon they’re going to get scolded again. And Mikasa will have to think up some stupid excuse.

No response.

She wipes at her cheeks with the back of her hands. But the tears keep coming. She pulls her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. Mikasa closes her eyes, wishing for some kind of respite- in what form she isn’t sure. Sleep, perhaps? And when she wakes up, it will be to Sasha’s incessant snoring. It’s just a dream Mikasa... A bad dream... It isn’t real... But it’s so quiet, and Mikasa has never felt more alone.  

“Mikasa?”

It’s Jean, with Connie. Now there are a few loose stalks of carnations beside her little gold flowers.

“I’ll leave you two to it...” she murmurs, there’s no point hiding the fact that she has been crying. Her reddened nose and wet cheeks are testament. It has always been the three of them- Sasha, Connie, Jean. Always. And Mikasa is already on her feet, making space. All of a sudden she feels out of place, a little stone in the shoe, a splinter in the trinity.

“No, stay...” it’s Connie. He offers a little smile and Mikasa stays, hands clasped in front of her. So this is what a person looks like when he loses part of himself.

“I’m sorry Connie... Jean...” Mikasa blurts. It seemed like the right thing to say.

There’s a smile again, this time from both of them.

“I’m sorry too Mikasa...” Connie says. And they sit around the headstone in ritual silence. For a moment it’s the four of them, and Mikasa feels young again. She remembers meeting them for the first time, she would have never expected this back then. Falling in love with people just means the inevitable heartache. This Mikasa knows from experience. And yet she does. Maybe this is what makes life beautiful- its capacity for happiness and sorrow so great it fucking breaks you.

They sit and talk until the sun dips, casting pinks and oranges through the fog. In all its muted glory, Mikasa wants to be selfish, to think this is all for her, to think it’s Sasha’s way of telling her everything is fine.

“Should we get going? It’s getting late...” Connie says. And it’s a wise choice. They all have paperwork to fill in and it’s the beginnings of a terribly long week.

But Mikasa shakes her head, she’ll stay a little longer. Just a little longer. There’s still so much she wants to tell Sasha.

“Hey...” It’s Jean. Jean with a look of resignation that he wears when he grieves.

“Hey...” she replies, smiling at him. She shifts to make space and he takes the cue and sits beside her.

It’s quiet for a while, and Mikasa wants so badly to apologise again. But what would she be apologising for? That they had to go to Marley? That she feels guilty for. The loss they both share? The fact that Mikasa couldn’t save her? The fact that Jean couldn’t save her?

But it’s Jean who breaks the silence first.

“Sasha loved you...” he says with difficulty, like he’s trying his best not to conjure up more memories than he can manage, “she talked about you a lot...”

Mikasa pulls her scarf over her chin, withdrawing further into herself. Maybe it would have been better if she had been shot instead. One moment you’re laughing, and the next there’s crimson and everything fades to darkness. And maybe Sasha would remember the little gold flowers Mikasa told her about and they would appear by her headstone.

“I remember when you two were first announced as roommates... Connie was very convinced you were going to kill Sasha one day in her sleep...” Jean chuckles.

There’s a smile that pulls at Mikasa’s lips, “I did want to kill her...” she tells Jean about the mess in her room, about Sasha’s loud snoring, about the balls of knotted thread when Mikasa had tried to teach her how to sew. And she tells Jean about their secret food stash that Sasha maintains religiously, about the things Sasha had taught her about the forest, about her dream to have a cattle ranch after the war. She leaves out their conversations about the young Marleyan chef, the one who has his eye on Sasha. The one they giggle about in the darkness of their room. She leaves out letting Sasha sleep in her bed when she gets nightmares. And that one time Sasha did the same for her. It’s just a dream Mikasa... A bad dream... It isn’t real... she had said, carding her fingers through Mikasa’s hair more expertly and with more tenderness than Mikasa could ever manage.

“What are we going to do...” Mikasa says, more rhetorical than anything, and the dam breaks. She cries so hard that her lungs scream for air. Jean wraps his arms around her. It’s okay Mikasa... It’s okay... he leans his head against hers and there are tears falling from his cheek to her hair- tears that he would sheepishly apologise for later.

The walk back to their bunks is quiet. And with every step, it gets a little easier to breathe. Mikasa’s hand is in Jean’s, and she feels like a child, spent from crying, happy to be safe and walked home. Except this little thing they have between them happens too often, and she almost prepares herself for Sasha’s teasing later. Almost.

It’s almost too soon when they arrive at Mikasa’s door and Jean senses her hesitation.

“You don’t have to be alone tonight Mikasa... You can come join Connie and I...” Jean flashes a grin, “we have alcohol...”

Mikasa smiles, squeezing Jean’s hand before letting go. Maybe some other time. She needs this tonight. And Jean understands, “you know where to find me...” he says, pulling her head against his chest. She breathes in deep. He smells of fresh laundry and bergamot. Mikasa snakes her arms around his waist. She knows, she’s looked for him before in the dead of night.

And then she’s alone again. There’s a trail of mess where Sasha has been and Mikasa is careful not to disturb it, as if it has been arranged in some sort of sacred way. She changes, and crawls into Sasha’s bed in anticipation of a nightmare. Too many things have happened in Marley- a potent concoction for bad dreams. The sheets smell like her- a mix of the forest and something sweeter- like lilies.

It’s just a dream Mikasa... A bad dream... It isn’t real...

But between the wetness on the pillow and the silence that shrouds the room, reality is stark.

But when Mikasa closes her eyes, she sees a field of chrysanthemums. She’s running through the endless gold fields, feet bare, heart racing.

Mikasa keep up! She hears somewhere in the distance. It’s Sasha. She’s always been a fast runner.

Wait! Mikasa shouts after her, there’s a panic that courses through her blood. Sasha is going too far away. She feels small again, a child waiting to be swallowed up by the world. Sasha wait...

She’s tired of running after people. Tired of falling in love with people. Tired of hurting. Tired of grief.

I’m here... It’s just a bad dream Mikasa... she hears from past the field of little gold flowers. It feels so real that Mikasa screws her eyes shut. Please don’t go... and Sasha is there again, lying beside her in the field of chrysanthemums. Sasha is smiling at her, that stupid smile she always has on her face that comes with the promise of something good, something beautiful- like roast beef on a platter, or like a field of little gold flowers, each as perfect as the sun.

Goodnight Sasha...