#I'm a little late but Pride is always appropriate

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then – party time! Smiler’s guests began arriving, starting with Cameron Fletcher and Myra Basu – I put them in Smiler’s group and had them follow them upstairs to keep them out of the way while Victor continued his clean-up. A clean-up made a little more difficult by the next guests to arrive – Brian Pimental (aka the local NAP inspector) was no issue, but Cletus ForgotHisLastName decided to kick over the trash can outside the house before I could get him into the group and direct him upstairs to start dancing to the radio! Hmph! Well, Victor got rummaging as I wrangled the guests –

-->But oh, what was this? A notification that Alice had gotten to Fitness Level 8 on her jog with Shadow, thus completing an aspirational milestone (in fact, straight-up completing the ASPIRATION – Alice now has the “Professorial” trait from Renaissance Sim and can write her own skill books!) and thus her New Year’s Resolution! :D That brought the trio as a whole to two out of three completed! Granted, I didn’t manage to get a shot of Alice actually celebrating completing her resolution because her jog with Shadow was being glitchy (Shadow was doing that thing again where dogs just run ahead for miles and miles in a straight line heedless of obstacles, and Alice kept switching outfits because the game WANTED to put her in her “White Rabbit” party outfit, but she wasn’t technically AT the party, she was in the middle of a jog, so she eventually ended up in just her regular blue Alice dress once I managed to cancel the jog), but I did get a shot of her looking pretty smug in her White Rabbit dress jogging along with Shadow, so I think that’ll do. XD

-->Okay, so Victor and Alice were all set with their New Year’s resolutions – that just left Smiler’s to complete, and that meant throwing a good party! I managed to get Smiler and all their guests up in the party barn area, dancing to the radio, then had Smiler unleash their Party Time party-bot for some extra party vibes. :D They then tried chatting with Cameron (who was not interested in hearing about lycanthropy, it seems) while Victor, done rummaging through the trash, reset the trash can and headed up to the barn to get a chocolate cupcake from Party Time, while Alice and Shadow arrived home, and Alice changed into one of her other party dresses to join the fun.

Leaving her standing in a pile of discarded clothes. Whoops – looks like the family left the laundry for a little too long! XD I resolved not to think about it for the time being and sent her to go join the dancing as Smiler let off a burst of happiness to ensure all their guests were in good moods (like YOU, Cletus) –

-->And then Myra and Cameron wandered off, and local townie Roxanne (who the game has decided is the Valicer farmhouse’s “neighbor”) showed up saying she’d brought a present! Curious, I had Smiler go over to invite her in (bringing some of their guests with them) – things were made a little more complicated by the appearance of specters at the front door, which seemed to temporarily break the whole “handing over the gift” interaction, but she eventually gave Smiler her present – an apple! Which, okay, we have plenty of those, but it’s the thought that counts. XD Smiler accepted it with good grace, and the two became good friends, aww. I was ready to have Smiler chat her up in hopes of getting some plasma off her too –

[bunnyswritings]

ur blog is soo helpful !!!! ive been looking into writing more lately and this is like a godsend <3 i was wondering if u could do some starter tips?? like stuff to avoid as a new writer :o ps. hope ur having a wonderful week!!!

ahhh, hello!! this is such a sweet message, and thank you, i hope you have a fruitful week ahead too ♡ i'm so glad you're writing more lately- i'll def do my best to provide some starter tips (though i'm really also a starter myself 😅 so i hope you like these, and feel free to let me know what you think!) also, just to put it out there that these are what i found helpful personally / what i think will be helpful, and may / may not resonate with everyone. Also, this topic is soooo broad and there are a million things that can be covered, but for now I'll just keep it short and go with stuff to avoid (or rather, approach differently) as per request. if you / anyone else would like another post for more specific writing tips, feel free to drop it in my ask box!

Some general writing tips — stuff to avoid; little things to not overdo

over-planning

overusing fancy vocabulary

over-describing

over-criticising your work

over-comparing

more details under the cut!

Over-planning — plan the general outline, direction of your plot, message of your story, characters and their rough personalities; yes, do all that well! good planning makes for a good story, but i think it's helpful to remember that sometimes things don't pan out the way we envision them to. and it's important to let certain things go, appropriately of course. if your initial storyline doesn't quite fit the characterisation of the protagonist etc (and vice versa), then perhaps it's time to rethink things — and NOT be too hard-up about it. [tldr: be flexible!]

Overusing bombastic vocabulary — i'm sure you've come across millions of writing advice pieces that aim to spruce up your vocabulary with bombastic phrases. by all means go ahead and pick a few that fit the mood and style of your writing. otherwise, i'd say that sometimes, less is more. throwing in fancy words for the sake of it may not be as helpful as you think. there should be a fine balance between using words that add flavour + help to illustrate nuances and using words to make your piece seem complex. simplicity goes a long way, as i've learnt. but having said that, building up a solid repertoire of vocabulary / good phrases is always helpful, the key thing is using those phrases in the right context. definitely easier said than done, so i suggest reading your favourite author's works couple of times through and pick up their way of using language to their advantage.

Over-describing — narration, descriptive language are great, and can really help to nudge your story in the right direction. it helps set the scene, the mood, and all these are critical in writing... BUT! not the same can be applied to describing actions. not every single action has to be written out explicitly — an example: she walks over to the kitchen, turns around, and opens the refrigerator. she then takes out a canned drink, and places the drink on the countertop... etc — you get the point. some things can be left implied, rather than explicit.

Over-criticising your work — ahh, the age-old piece of advice. i do it all the time, and you probably do too... sometimes, being harsh on yourself and on your work may seem like the only way to better yourself and push your limits, but often times, i personally find that this is counter-productive both on the physical and mental front. it wears you down, it is a nidus for dejection and negative vibes. i think the way i try to get round this is by taking pride in my own work; telling myself that 'this is something i wrote, these are my ideas put into prose, these are my thoughts written on paper'. the caveat here is that avoiding being over-critical of your work DOES NOT and should not mean avoiding proofreading. proofreading is extremely crucial to check for grammatical and structural errors (i recommend doing it once or twice yourself, and if possible, getting a fresh pair of eyes to do the same).

Over-comparing — this ties in nicely with the previous point. take pride in your work! this is something original from you and you only, written in your unique style. having authors/writers whom you look up to is essential in moulding your writing style and habits, but should not be the sole focus when you write. remember that every writer is different, every piece of writing is different; this goes even for pieces with similar plots / tropes / character personalities. nuances, subtleties and underlying messages can come through very differently when written by different people. after all, our life journeys are all personal, which is a factor influencing the way we convey messages across through the written word.

and... that's it for now! i really hope that this helps. honestly, i'm scratching the surface here, and there are lots more i can talk about when i have more braincells >_<

feel free to drop any other requests or questions in my ask if you'd like ♡

[antheiantics]

Things I would do as an ENTJ parent pt.2(middle school - high school edition)

Encourage them to think outside the box - if it can be done differently and still work the same, do it.

With that in mind: "Always work hard, but when you can work smart, work smart."

Be honest - always. I won't be stopping them from doing what they want, especially if they have set their mind on it, but I will step in and say "This may get ugly."

Not necessarily a permanent curfew, but I would be adamant about them coming home before 11 PM (high school) and 9 PM (middle school).

Late night talks on the balcony.

Pick them up from school whenever I can. If I can't, I'm sending their father.

Smoking is allowed after 16, just not over 5 cigarettes a day. I would encourage them to tell me if they start earlier. Excluding drugs, they can do whatever they want after a certain age.

Kissing a smoker is not exactly the most pleasant feeling and they should know it before making the decision to be consistent about it (cigs, I mean).

Always be polite and civil, first. Bite their heads off if that is rejected three times.

If I have a son I will tell him not to expect girls to make the first move. He should be able to tell if she's being assertive or not, anyway, we're not exactly thinking about hiding that.

If I have a daughter I will tell her not to expect boys to always make the first move. She should be prepared for both scenarios.

"Date for experience and fun, not for marriage."

Teach them to be confident in their abilities - a little arrogance with a base is not bad. Baseless confidence is another matter.

Pride is a genetic trait in this family, so I should probably teach them to accept help and admit mistakes. I'm not going to lie, this will be the hardest pill to swallow for both me and them.

Teach them when they can swear and when they cannot - there is an appropriate moment for everything, including unleashing hell out of your mouth.

"Don't completely obey the rules, but don't break them either. Bend. Loopholes exist for a reason."

Teach them to respect people.

We may be people-friendly in this household, but if a person is shitty, gender, sexuality, race, religion, or status doesn't matter.

[captainjacklyn]

"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death..."

A/N : I thought of doing a little late birthday gift for our favorite snake boy, apologies if this fic appeared too late. Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed making it !

[Name]-Asim, future duke/duchess and cousin of the heir to the throne, Kalim al-asim. Kalim had always been...chirpy to say the least, a surprisingly carefree young man who almost had no regards for his life despite the numerous assassination attempts he lived through.

Your father was the brother of the king, your mother came from a known noble family and as the oldest offspring you were the one next in line.

You and Kalim grew up in the same environment, both treated like two gemstones. Protected and cherished since forever, in contrary to your cousin, you were far more responsible and poised. Taking great pride in your title resulted in you often acting like a high-class citizen (because you actually were one).

"Lady/Lord [name] is so elegant ! I can already imagine how great they'll be in the future." this statement could be heard by every last servant who previously took care of you. "Lady/Lord [name] is such a handsome/beautiful young one !" Ah. your appearance. I almost forgot.

Treated like a jewel, looked like a jewel. Your reputation had always been bright, just like Kalim and his sheepish smile.

However, everything had its downsides to it. And what could be so wrong with your role ?

As the future Duke/Duchess, you needed to have a loyal partner at your side. But that...Was something out of your control.

Why you ask ? well simply because for you, love was...

.

.

.

an Arranged marriage.

.

.

.

You could ask for anything, you had the freedom to do anything. But love ? forget it. Everything had been planned out for you even if your heart belonged to someone else.

Jamil Viper, better known as the personal bodyguard of Kalim and accessorily...Your significant other.

You and Jamil had developed a relationship since almost forever, hiding it from others to not deceive any of your families and get in trouble.

For Jamil, the idea of hiding became a lifestyle. Born into the Viper family, which has served the Asim household for generations, Jamil's been looking after Kalim from a young age. Jamil was instructed by his parents to never outdo and perform better than Kalim, in order to keep himself beneath Kalim and not draw attention away from him. This has infuriated Jamil from a young age, as he disliked that his family was treated less important compared to the Asim's.

For you, things were different but not any better. Forced to bare the weight of the countries responsibility since the day you were able to form a proper sentence. Having to meet every single suitor who thought that they had a chance to even whoo you.

Of course, you rejected all of them. One by one, you almost felt bad if it weren't so...Pathetic.

you could've kept going like this, if it weren't eating you from the inside. You should've gotten used to it by now, "It's fine, I'm fine, everything is fine." you continuously repeated these words to yourself...

That was until the news of his overblot struck you like lightning. You knew how horrible he felt through all these years…And yet what have you done to try and ease the weight on his shoulders?

Nothing. You did nothing.

You thought he could bare it, he was always good at hiding his frustrations and negative emotions. It wasn't 'appropriate' to display in front of the Asim family, all of this, brought you to where you are now.

.

.

.

“So- [Name]…Why did you ask me to meet you here ?” Jamil looked around to verify that no one was eavesdropping on the two of you. “Oh, Jamil! I-” you paused your sentence midway, looking down, the atmosphere became briefly quiet as seconds passed. The calming sound of the palace's water fountain soothed your ears like a simple melody, a gentle breeze kept the both of you refreshed as you started to drift deep into your thoughts.

"[Name] ?" your boyfriend's voice simultaneously brought you back down to earth as you raised your head to look into his charcoal grey eyes. You inhaled sharply and placed both of his hands into yours, lowering yourself onto one knee. The boy's eyes widened in surprise and he immediately began to question your actions "What are you doing-" "Jamil." your unusually stern voice signaled him to calm down as he mumbled a questioning yes before you continued with your declaration.

"Please Love, I want you to listen to me without interrupting what I am about to tell you. You can ask me as many questions as you want once I'm done, alright?" Jamil nodded but you felt that he was uneasy with your statement due to his body feeling tense. You smiled warmly in his direction to assure him that everything was alright, he exhaled softly and spoke, "Go ahead."

You subsequently nodded and stated: "You and I are aware of the highly different status we both have, sadly, such a union between those two ranks is looked down upon…" Jamil grimaced at the mention of this fact he knew by heart. But he stayed silent nonetheless to let you carry on, "I…have a solution for us so that we finally won't have to hide our relationship anymore." You closed your eyes and took a deep breath "Jamil Viper, will you accept to marry me and rise your position from servant to the Duke of the Asim family as my potential fiancee?"

This feels so rushed..

Thank you for reading everyone, I hope you like it. (happy birthday Jamil !)

[crotchety-old-emu]

Hi can I ask about your writing process regarding "our love is these days' piano"? How do you usually write, do you plan out everything in advance, or just use a general outline? How hard it is to write a story that takes place in the Regency? Do you do a lot of historical research? (I really enjoy looking up the little things you sprinkle in there, like Robin Adair) What is the best advice you wish you would have known when you started writing?

hi! thank you so much for this amazing message. it makes me feel like a *real writer*.

i usually follow the same process when writing a story. i always start with an outline, which i break up into scenes so i know exactly when certain events take place.

however, with olitdp my outline has changed a million times. i usually wait until a story is finished to post it, so it mostly ends up being pretty much what i originally planned it to be. with olitdp, i've had so much amazing feedback that has helped change the story substantially. it was only ever supposed to be 6 chapters. so in all honesty, if you like the story, it's as much your accomplishment as mine.

i have to admit, though, it is bloody hard writing regency. i'd say this is probably the most challenging story i've ever written, because - for some unfathomable reason - i wanted to stay as close to regency english as i could and it requires a fuckton of research. i'm not a historian, and certainly not a historical linguist. so most of the time i spend on this story, goes into looking up if certain words or expressions existed in the regency era. i have several tabs open with etymological dictionaries and thesauruses as i write, plus i consult pride and prejudice (my main inspiration) on project gutenberg constantly to see if jane austen used certain words.

i want to make it extremely clear, though, that i am not saying that i've never used any words that did not exist in regency times. i 100% did, but i try to avoid modern words that would stand out like a sore thumb as much as i can.

this is why it takes me a million years to complete a chapter, by the way. pretty much all the dialogue is written out for the entirety of the story (unless my amazing readers inspire me to change the outline yet again). but all the actions in between, choosing the right and period-appropriate words to describe them, takes hours and hours of research.

as for other research, i have gone down many a regency rabbit hole. i have spent days reading about the correct order in which to enter or exit a dining room, the layout of upper class regency houses, the way a regency household is structured, popular books and songs of the time, clothing items and fabrics and lately, regency dances (which will play a key part in the next chapter 👀).

if you're writing regency stories and want detailed information and video clips of regency dances, this website is the most brilliant resource. it has helped me out so much. highly recommend.

a few other great websites, that gave me a lot of insight and understanding of the how and why of the regency period are, in no particular order:

jane austen's world (just great in general)

regency history (especially the page i linked to, on how to behave at regency balls)

ellie dashwood (youtube channel that has truckloads of information on regency novels, a lot of them jane austen's)

if i had to give any advice - not that i am in any way an authority on writing recency pieces - it would be to not do it 😅. or at least, don't stick to the regency english. it has slowed down my writing so, so much and while i am quite pleased with all the research i've done, i have made it so much harder to tell the story i want to tell, and i am constantly worried i am veering off into purple prose territory with the words i do decide to use.

i have been working on a new penthony-story (mostly in my head, though) for a while and i'm definitely setting it in modern times because i just want to be able to write without second-guessing myself with every word.

should you decide to try and stay as true to regency language as you can, i would heartily recommend pulling up a regency novel (doesn't have to be austen) and checking it for certain expressions and vocabulary as you go along. i think that, far more than the etymology websites, has helped me decide on the wording of my story. plus, bonus re-reading of some of your favourite pieces of literature. (i do get lost in p&p every once in a while, and i LOVE it).

if you managed to get to the end of this ranty post, i commend you, dear reader. thank you so, so much. i cannot tell you guys enough how much your interest and interaction with me have inspired me and helped me shape the story.

and you, @cardeakelsey: what an amazing ask this was. thank you so much for taking the time to notice the tiny things i put in there and for appreciating them. it genuinely means the world.

[ladykailitha]

sorry about going radio silent; haven't been up to much direct talking this week--there's a pride parade near my area and my household is going this weekend! [happy squeak] and i've been equal parts excited and verging on an anxiety attack all week. which makes sleeping f u n.

it didn't occur to me that i could just. send in a message late. oops [sheepish]

but! i'm here now, and you seemed sad to have missed us [authorly commiseration] so as a treat for you and me, mayhaps a crumb of soulmate au (insert coding-denied question mark here)

(if you'd rather not, as a reader i'll be disappointed but patient, as a person i'll be sympathetic, and as an author i'll be "BIG mood, yo". i would just send in twice the asks next wednesday to avoid feeling like i'm. i don't know, asking for time and effort from you outside of appropriate and/or appreciated parameters (insert coding-denied question mark here) but knowing myself, i would almost certainly forget by then. so this way it is!)

however writing shakes out, i hope you enjoy the rest of your week/end! <3

Feel free to send in twice as many asks next Wednesday AND I'll do a little soulmate for you tonight. I've been putting off soulmate, because I keep trying to find JUST the Steve and Eddie moments from season 4 so that I don't have to rewrite the whole season for the AU. But I found in Steve's fan wiki page a lot of those moments broken down (even if I don't agree with their interpretation of certain scenes) so it'll be easier to reference those.

It's my first weekend where I get to relax this month so I'm excited. I hope you enjoy Pride!

Snippet:

Usually he would talk to Robin about this, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, Vickie was her soulmate, the girl just wasn’t interested in being with Robin. She would rather chase after some boy who had already go off to college and was likely cheating on her with who knows how many girls. So how could Steve gush about his soulmate when hers didn’t want her? He wasn’t an ass. Or at least not anymore.

Steve finally got out of the car and opened the door to his house, half expecting his parents to come storming out of one of the rooms demanding where he’d been. But the house was silent. As it always was these days. He toed off his shoes in front of the door, suddenly not caring if it blocked anyone from coming in. Maybe that was a good thing.

He didn’t want to be disturbed while he wallowed in his misery.

[smokyvrbada]

sektor headcannons for father hood ?🥺

Sorry that this is a little late! Getting a lot of love for Sektor on my blog lately, I love it😊 Here ya go anon!

SFW Drabbles: Sektor x F! Reader

Summary: SFW Headcanons about Sektor as a father (yes I'm reusing this picture bc the lack of human Sektor content is criminal)

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), very brief suggestive themes but nothing too explicit, mentions of past trauma, pregnancy, some angst, fluff, Sektor is severely underrated

Being the Grandmaster's son, the topic of having children was always something that Sektor was trained for starting at an appropriate age. To be honest, Sektor never liked the idea of having kids, since it was only put on him to ensure an heir. But since meeting you and forming a strong relationship, fatherhood slowly starts to grow on him; he wants to have a baby because of love/companionship, not because of some old forceful and corrupt method.

When you first tell him that you're pregnant, Sektor's reaction is a bittersweet, shocked mixture of sadness and excitement. He asks if you are positive, and he feels like he's about to have a heart attack when you say yes. Sektor doesn't want you to feel like he's angry at you, he wants this baby as much as you do, but he has trouble expressing himself. He only presses a chaste kiss to your lips, and embraces you in comfortable silence to reassure you of his happiness.

Extremely possessive over you during pregnancy. Sektor is persistent about doing everything, making sure you don't even lift a finger so that you can rest. Gets uncomfortable if someone he doesn't know/trust is within any radius of you; if said someone even tries to touch your stomach, they're going to lose a hand. The only person that can get close is mainly Cyrax, and on some occasions Smoke and Kuai Liang; Bi-Han keeps his distance to maintain the peace, sometimes throwing a sarcastic comment or two Sektor's way.

Sektor often lets his actions speak louder than his words. This translates over to how he interacts with the bump, Sektor rarely talks to the baby, but always maintains physical contact (via gently resting a hand on your stomach or tenderly wrapping his arm around your waist). When he does talk to the baby, its going to be in calm words of Mandarin; Sektor doesn't speak English unless he absolutely has to in order to successfully communicate with anyone.

When the baby finally arrives, Sektor feels himself finally burst at the seams from a flood of bottled-up emotions. He thinks that his newborn is perfect, and loves how much they look like you. Absolutely no one is going to ruin this new life for him, not even that bastard of a father he had growing up.

Sektor is a strict, yet respectful father. He takes pride in everything that his child does, and fatherhood is gradually helping him get away from being the arrogant person he once was. Sektor wants to form a bond with his child that is healthy and never looks down on them even when times are tough.

Again, Sektor was initially uncomfortable with having his own children for the longest time, but he's grown to love fatherhood and his small family. He thinks one child is enough, but maybe in a couple years time he might want another baby. Once all the barriers have been broken, Sektor is a loving and compassionate person under that intimidating exterior.

[michaelmilligan]

May It Be

A Midam medieval/fantasy AU

Read on AO3

Adam woke up during the night, warm and with a light headache from the stuffy air in the tent. Maybe he should have sought more shade during the day, but it was a little late for such musings now. So he just climbed out of the bed, careful not to disturb Michael. After changing into some more outdoor-appropriate clothes, he left the tent, nodding to the soldiers on guard. Gadreel nodded back.

He didn't envy them. Well, the night watch might not have been so bad, at least compared to standing in the sun for hours on end during the day. But they still had to wear their armours and their swords, and Adam was already working up a sweat just walking down towards the lake front in his simple tunic.

Well, that was life, he supposed. They were simple soldiers, and he was the King's husband.

Adam was pretty sure that whatever his mother had envisaged for him, back before she passed and King John took him in, this wasn't it. He wondered sometimes what she would say to him if they could meet again. Would she be impressed with where he was now? Would she be worried about him?

Perhaps both.

Three years ago, he had been worried himself. He had barely met Michael before the marriage was agreed on, but he had also known that it was pretty much the only way to keep the fragile peace between their kingdoms. After all, King John had been a stubborn and prideful guy, but he would have thought twice about attacking someone who was technically his family.

King Dean, newly crowned a year ago, seemed to have less qualms about such things. At this point he'd threatened war so often Adam was frankly surprised Michael hadn't snapped and sent his own troops yet. Adam might have done it in his place.

Now they were on their way to another round of negotiations. Michael thought that bringing Adam this time would somehow help settle Dean's mind, but Adam wasn't convinced it would do anything.

Well, at least coming along meant that Michael wasn't off without him for weeks on end again. It did mean that Adam had to bear this stupid kingdom's heat again, though.

Where he grew up, it didn't get this warm. And in the kingdom of Angels, the temperature was always moderate. There was a variance of only about 30 degrees Fahrenheit between the highest temperatures in the summer and lowest temperatures in the winter, a far cry from the heat waves of this kingdom or the freezing winters of Adam's birthplace. It was comfortable, really, even though Adam did miss the snow sometimes.

Having arrived at the lake, Adam knelt down to drink and wash his face. The water was refreshing, if not especially cold, and so he stuck his hands back in to the wrists. If he could have just slept out here, or in the water... But, well. He needed to get back to the tent, back to Michael. Sleeping without him had become quite a pain at this point, and not only because Adam was constantly worried every time he was away. It was simply nicer to lie next to his husbands than to have the big bed in the palace to himself.

“So you're Prince Adam, huh,” a voice behind him suddenly said, making him jump.

Adam must have been lost in his thoughts, because he hadn't heard any footsteps at all.

“Who the hells-” he asked, turning around only to find an unarmed man behind him. He had his hands in the pockets of his utilitarian pants, seeming so unassuming that Adam might have walked by him in the streets and not have noticed him at all.

“No worries. I'm not an assassin in the night or anything.” The stranger's smile was slightly sharp. “Your brothers sent me.”

“My-” Adam glared at him. Who the hells did this man think he was, to sneak up on Adam and then talk about his family? He would have challenged him on it, but the man was standing between him and the camp, and just because he wasn't openly flouting a weapon didn't mean he didn't carry one. “What do you want?”

“To get you out of here. Like I said, Sam and Dean send their regards.”

Frowning, Adam took a step to the side, hoping to circle the man. If he was not using any titles for Sam and Dean, he was either brave, stupid, or very close to them. Since Adam had never seen him before, he would have gambled on one of the first two options. Then again, he hadn't seen or communicated with his brothers in three years.

A lot could happen in that time.

A lot had happened in that time, at least to him. For one, he'd grown, if he dared say so himself. From a naïve little boy who barely knew anything and was only technically a Prince to a King's husband who actually got consulted on matters not only of the Palace, but also of the State.

“Did they tell you I wanted out? My brothers.” That was rich. Really, really rich.

“Who wouldn't want out?” The guy grimaced as if at a particularly unpleasant memory, stepping closer. There wasn't much light, but Adam thought he'd seen his face somewhere before. He couldn't quite place him though... “Now hurry, we need to go before someone sees us!”

Adam stopped where he'd tried to circle him before. “You know there'll likely be war if I leave. Historically, stealing a King's spouse has rarely gone over very well.”

“There'll be war anyway. The only question is where you'll be when it starts.” The guy held out his hand.

So his brother's mind was set, then. Good to know. Adam took a step back, just as Michael came out of a shadow behind the guy and held a sword to his throat.

“Don't move,” Michael said, the steel in his voice harder than that in his hand. Adam had no doubt he'd take the guy's head off at the slightest twitch.

“Long time no see,” the guy said, oddly calm, “brother.”

Michael froze, and Adam stopped breathing for a moment. Brother... Then it hit him where he'd seen the guy's face before: On a family portrait in their rooms, the one tucked into the back of a closet...

“Gabriel?” Michael said, bewildered. “What-”

“Bet you thought you'd seen the last of my ugly face, huh?” Prince Gabriel's face twitched with a sour smile.

Michael stayed still for a moment, the grip on his sword wobbly. Then he tensed his muscles again. “I can't actually see your face right now,” he said, dead-pan. “What are you doing here?”

“Apparently my brothers sent him,” Adam butted in. While he wanted nothing more than for Michael to have a happy reunion with his brother, he also wouldn't just let him get by with trying to kidnap him.

“You're with the Winchesters?” Michael asked, confused.

“Eh. I'm on my own side, mostly. But yeah, I promised Sam- sorry, Prince Sam and King Dean that I'd get their brother back to them.” Prince Gabriel shifted, turning just a little bit towards Michael, still mindful of the blade near his head.

“Cute. One could almost think they care about me,” Adam said dryly.

Prince Gabriel sighed. “They're sorry they couldn't help you back then, kid. They'll make up for it now.”

“Oh, they couldn't help me, huh. Who says I wanted their help? Who says I want it now? You just said they're going to start a war anyway! Why would I want anything to do with them?!”

“It's not like they want a war! But some people-” Prince Gabriel turned further towards his brother. “-don't exactly leave them a choice.”

Michael opened his mouth, but Adam was faster. “Oh, bullshit!”

Prince Gabriel peered back at him. “Beg your pardon?”

“I said bullshit! They have every choice. The demands we make are completely reasonable, they're just too proud to compromise at all.”

“You?” Prince Gabriel sounded amused. “You mean Michael.”

“Him and all his advisors.” Which Adam was officially a part of – advisor on foreign affairs. Granted, the position hadn't existed before he'd taken it, but Michael had wanted him in the room when decisions were made. And the slot of advisor on health and alchemy was already taken by Raphael.

So, since he was from another kingdom and had lived part of his life in yet another kingdom, the title had seemed fitting.

“Dean said the demands are completely out of proportion,” Prince Gabriel countered, sounding annoyed. To be fair, Michael still had that sword up.

“Did you see it? Our list of demands?” Michael asked, far calmer now than before, though there was still fire behind his eyes.

“No.” Prince Gabriel shifted again, this time only in awkwardness. “Pretty sure Dean threw it into the fireplace before even Sam could see it.”

Adam sighed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He just sees the word 'demands' and sees red. Probably didn't even read it.” Emboldened by the fact that Prince Gabriel had come to take him, not to kill him, he took a step towards him. “And whatever he told you about me, don't let him fool you. He doesn't care about me, not any more than he would about a stretch of dirt if it fell into the hands of the enemies. He's just angry that I'm here and that it would make him look bad if he attacked us.”

“That's not true,” Prince Gabriel said softly.

“What do you know?!” Adam didn't really know his sudden anger stemmed from, but it overcame him in a wave of acid and bitterness in his stomach. “I lived in that palace for almost eight years. Eight years! And do you have any idea how often Dean, or even Sam, so much as talked to me in that time? Huh? I'll tell you: A handful of times. If even! They don't care about me, and frankly, I couldn't care less about them! So sorry, but that whole spiel he probably gave you about how we're blood, about how you don't leave your family behind? He can take that and shove it up his royal ass!”

Michael raised an eyebrow at him, looking somewhere between startled and amused. Truth be told, Adam was a little embarrassed at his own outburst, but he didn't regret it. Everything he'd said was true.

“You're just angry at him because he couldn't help you back then, but-” Prince Gabriel started, but this time it was Michael who interrupted him.

“You should leave,” he said coldly. “And Adam stays here.”

“Keeping this kid prisoner isn't going to help you with-”

Michael's hand twitched, pressing the blade against Prince Gabriel's throat. “You already took a brother from me,” he hissed, “you're not taking my husband as well.”

“Oh, don't you dare!” Using a dagger that hadn't been in his hand a second ago, Prince Gabriel pried the sword off him to whirl around on his brother. “You're the one who pushed me out! After everything, after Luci-”

“Be quiet!”

They glared at each other for a moment. There were footsteps, the bustle of armour as soldiers drew near, probably alarmed by the yelling.

“Go,” Michael said, his face a stone mask. “Tell King Dean that is he wants to talk to my husband, he should write a letter or come to visit us. Not send a thief in the night.”

Prince Gabriel huffed, and for a split-second Adam thought he would stay, but then he quickly slinked away into the darkness. Only when he was out of sight did Adam take a breath of relief.

“Your majesties!” One of the approaching soldiers held up a lantern while the others spread out to search the lake front. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Michael said, eyes locking with Adam, who nodded. “Just a critter in the night.”

“It startled me,” Adam supplied, the perfect picture of bashful innocence. “You should have seen it though, it was almost the size of a man! Very frightening.” He gestured so exaggeratedly that the corners of Michael's mouth twitched upwards.

“Well, the deadly beast-” Michael shared a meaningful look with some of the soldiers “-has been scared away, and we should be safe to go back to bed.”

“My brave hero,” Adam said, fluttering his eyelashes, and saw Gadreel frown at them.

But he wouldn't question them. Certainly not in front of the other soldiers.

“Good night, your majesties,” Gadreel just said, with a slight bow.

They nodded at him and walked back up to the camp arm in arm, but in silence. Michael seemed thoughtful, almost melancholy.

Well, he had just seen his brother again for the first time in several years. Officially, Prince Gabriel was missing, but Adam knew from Michael that he'd simply run away at some point. The realization that his brother was now essentially working with the enemy must be a real blow to Michael. Adam wanted to say something to cheer him up, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound condescending or was a downright lie.

So they stayed silent on their way. Only when they were in the tent and Adam was changing into his night shirt again did Michael speak again.

“You stayed,” he said, sitting on the bed with his back to Adam. He had made no move yet to change his clothes, or even take off his shoes. “I wasn't sure you would, given the choice.”

Adam dropped what he was doing and sat down on the other side of the bed. “Why wouldn't I?” he asked softly, getting his legs onto the bed and shifting closer to Michael.

“Why would you?” came the flat reply.

When Adam gingerly touched his back, Michael tensed, then let out a deep breath.

“What I told Prince Gabriel is true. I don't care about Sam or Dean, and if they do somehow care about me, they have a funny way of showing that. Not that it matters.”

“And is your life here that much better?” Finally, Michael turned around to him, but he wasn't looking him in the eyes. “You didn't choose this. Your father and I arranged for the marriage, and you never even got a say.”

Slowly, Adam cupped his cheek, giving him time to pull away as he leaned in to press their lips together. Michael's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, then remained half-hooded. “I'm choosing it every day that we're together,” Adam told him. “Every night that I spend in your bed. Every morning that I wake up in your arms.”

There was something searching in Michael's gaze for a moment. “Why? Why choose me?”

Adam hummed. “And here I thought you'd ask about the mornings you wake up in my arms,” he teased, and kissed him again. Then he laid his head on Michael's shoulder, his hands sliding over the vast plains of Michael's back. After a moment of contemplation, Adam spoke again: “Look. I don't know what happened with your brothers. I don't know who was at fault or if any of you were at fault. Really, I don't know anything. Except how you treat me. What I know is that you're a good man.”

Michael made a disapproving sound and shifted on the bed, but Adam held him close by laying a hand on his neck.

“You are. At least to me. You like to hide the fact that you care, but I still know. You're not much for sweet words, but your actions speak loudly. You're a sweet man, and you spoil me rotten.”

Scoffing, Michael put his hand in Adam's hair, tangled his fingers in it. “Now I know you're talking nonsense.”

Adam clicked his tongue. “Need I remind you of the one hundred funnel cakes?”

Michael scoffed again. “That wasn't-”

“Or the new funds you added to the library's budget? Or how about the Wild Petunias that mysteriously appeared in the Green Houses after I mentioned I missed seeing them? Did you think I wouldn't notice? That I would take this all for coincidences?”

Michael sighed. “Those are small things.”

“Are they, really, when the joy they bring me is so great? But alright, then, what about my place as your advisor? The fact that I'm not just another stretch of land you annexed, not just another compromise you made for peace?”

In his father's palace, he hadn't even been that. He'd been the bastard son, the one they had all mostly tried to forget existed, including the servants.

He'd been nothing.

Now, with Michael, he was something. Someone.

He was valued.

“It's only logical. Your experience with the customs and cultures of different kingdoms-”

“Isn't unique. Many people have been to many more places than I have,” Adam argued.

For a moment, Michael was silent. “Well, I trust you more than them.”

Adam kissed him again. “You asked why I choose you. It's because you choose me. Because everything you do, whether you intend it or not, is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. And – no, don't contradict me.” Adam put a finger over Michael's mouth as he opened it to speak. “You know I'm no good at talking about this either, so let me speak before I dissolve in utter embarrassment. Now, you may tell me it's not that important, that your actions aren't worth noticing, but they are. They are to me. And I... I care for you. You must know that.”

Michael pulled Adam against himself. “I care for you too,” he whispered into his hair.

“I'd hoped so.” Adam pressed a smile-shaped kiss to his chin. “This would have become rather awkward if you didn't.”

Michael just held him tightly.

[sogno-ao3]

a list of named books in still waters

writing this because it is late and i am going crazy with work and wanted to write this as a diversion--won't include jane eyre and huckleberry finn for spoilery reasons!

--

The Jungle, Upton Sinclair

Ah, the first book we see in Still Waters and one that Mollie wonders if Tommy has read. It is evocative of Tommy's own dirty business; Sinclair writes about the violent and unsanitary meat-packing industry and how the main character is a decent man but his circumstances force him into less-than-moral doings...?

North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell and Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

Contributes to the feeling for Mollie's inexperience with romance--Pride and Prejudice is certainly one of the canonical romance greats, North and South in the third tier...?

The History of the Standard Oil Company, Ida Tarbell

Mostly just to be evocative of Tommy's penchant for empire building, and something that he'd probably read.

Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

To be frank, nothing is really going on here... I suppose one can draw parallels between Heathcliff and Tommy, but that would make this romance rather monstrous...? Hate to disappoint, but revenge plots are not the focus of this story.

House of Mirth, Edith Wharton

Nothing of note, except period accuracy.

A Doctor's Education: a Guide to Medical Schools

A book that I made up.

A Doll's House, Henrik Ibsen

I admit, a little too on the nose, but too perfect to resist as a play and its thematic material--Tommy has trapped Mollie in a doll's house; further commentary on how Mollie is circumscribed by her position in society, and whether she can break out of it or not. Further hilarious references when she tries to escape the Shelby family meeting and abandons a child.

The Tempers, William Carlos Williams

Personally, I am a fan of WCW and just about died when I re-read the poem with Grace the cat--and so it was purrfect to include. Another thing I do love about WCW is that many poems can be interpreted from very surface-level to very abstract, from serious to playful--depends on your mood. This dichotomy I also try to illustrate between Tommy and Mollie.

Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad

Can you tell that I hate this book? I'm amazed that it always ends up on the top lists; writing is insipid even without the awful treatment of colonization. Again, a book that inspires differences of opinions between Tommy and Mollie.

Poems, Wilfred Owen

"Written by a war veteran" is how I imagined it was sold in stores, and Tommy just chose it, and then realized he doesn't want to relive any of that, and so neglects to read it, leaving a very chagrined Mollie to pick up the pieces.

The Education of Henry Adams, Henry Adams

Chosen for the themes of growth and change, but most importantly, it was period appropriate.

Agnes Grey, Anne Brontë

An echo to Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre. Also a bildungsroman for a young woman of a lower class.

Tenant of Wildfell Hall, Anne Brontë

Nothing too important except that it's in the Brontë family.

Poems, Emily Brontë

I don't think Emily Brontë ever published a solo book of poetry (she did publish a book with her sisters), but nonetheless, someone aggregated them and when I visited home, I discovered I had a book of her lesser-known poems. I think I had bought this book when I was in my own e-girl era... uh.... anyway, many great poems to give life to Tommy's own e-boy era.

[ramuneempiremtl]

Slave-kun's Happy Life in Another World: Chapter 8

When we got out of the bath, the white person approached us and used magic to blow hot air to dry our hair. Are they a mother?

Since calling them "white person" over and over is a bit strange, I decided to observe them a little more closely.

They had light blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Their features were delicate. Their clothes were also whitish, making them appear even more like a white person.

In conclusion, the white person was indeed a white person.

Their name is Nove. Could they be the person my master was talking about who is good at magic?

If I'm not careful, I might end up calling them "mother." I need to make sure to remember their name.

"No, it just won't dry here for some reason."

This Nove person is mumbling something over my head. My hair, which was once a mess, has become shiny after being washed properly.

For some reason, there's one spot that just won't dry, and despite their best efforts, they've finally given up and admitted defeat.

Huh? Oh no!

I'm being taken care of again.

Where has my pride as a slave gone?

If I don't show them that I can do my job properly, I'll continue to be treated like a baby. But for now, I need to get my health back… Oh dear.

"Come over here."

The person with the shield followed and beckoned me to the entrance of the room.

When I entered the room, I was told to lie down on the bed. I did as I was told, and I was so surprised by how soft the bed was that I sat up.

It's not a spring mattress, but for some reason it's very bouncy!

Civilization! The smell of civilization!

"I told you to go to sleep!"

I was pushed back down.

Their hands moved from the top of my head to my toes. I felt something passing through me. Is this not healing magic, but something like a CT scan?

Magic is amazing.

"…Your appearance has been healed, but the bruises haven't. And your internal organs are quite damaged. You won't be able to eat oily foods for a while."

"Is it that bad?"

"Well, I can heal it, though."

The master, who had been standing next to the person with the shield, looked at me with concern.

Oh dear, so the person with the shield is the healer.

With their dull, beige hair and sleepy, deep green eyes, this man seemed to have more muscle mass than the master, who was quite muscular himself.

I always thought that healing was something that gentle women or kind old ladies did. I guess the world isn't that simple.

However, their skills seemed to be genuine. As the person with the shield touched me with their glowing palm, the pain and throbbing disappeared, and the heaviness in my body vanished.

Magic is amazing.

I've been trying to cast a small amount of healing magic by imitating what I've seen, but I can tell that there's a fundamental difference.

Knowledge, perhaps. If I studied magic, I might be able to be more useful. I've been told that I have a lot of magic power.

"It's done."

"Thank you."

"Mm."

Finally, the person with the shield ruffled my hair and left.

The master told him, but I also said thank you to the person with the shield in my heart.

It's inconvenient not being able to speak at times like this.

The master clapped their hands.

"Alright! It's late, but let's have some food."

Yay! Food!

I jumped out of bed and returned to the other room, where a steaming wooden bowl was placed on the table.

Food!

I waited for the master to sit down before I sat down myself. I am a slave, after all. I wonder if it's even appropriate for me to eat at the same table, but there doesn't seem to be anyone here who would care or point it out.

The master had a mountain of grilled meat, soup, and bread, while I had only soup. It's probably barley porridge. It's helpful since my stomach is weak.

When I looked at the cat-like person who had prepared the food, they nodded. The master also nodded and started eating, so I scooped up some with a wooden spoon and put it in my mouth.

…Delicious!

I can't say anything else.

I can't even say that.

The soup had small meatballs floating in it, and the cloudy broth was probably made with chicken stock. It was thick, perhaps from barley or maybe some grated root vegetables. I also think there are some herbs in it.

This is definitely medicinal food.

I feel bad for being treated so well. But it's so delicious that I don't care.

With this, the remaining concern, the question of 'is the food in this world delicious', has also been safely cleared. Food is the foundation of all activities, so it is very, very important.

But it's a bit disappointing.

I think this soup could be even more delicious. I think there are flavors that I can't perceive because my body's sense of taste hasn't developed yet.

The taste buds of Japanese people are cultivated from a young age by experiencing the flavors of various ingredients. It's different from the tongue of a child who has lived as a slave.

My memories contain the taste, but I guess I'm still being influenced by the sensations of this body, so I can't fully appreciate the subtle nuances.

I need to cultivate them.

And then, maybe one day, when I'm gone and the mind of the boy who owns this body awakens, I want him to be able to enjoy the taste of all kinds of delicious things.

…It also means that everything I eat will be delicious for now.

I will gratefully accept it.

Thank you, world.

[moemoemammon]

(Two things, 1. This is my first time requesting so I'm sorry if this is not the thing to do it, and 2. Sorry if somethings is misspelled or grammatically incorrect, eng is not my first language:p)

May I request some of the bros, specially Mammon, Luci and Satan, with a MC who's similar to Lucifer in some aspects (like, some of their manners are the same as his and sometimes they're little bit too strict) and after a while they discover that its bc MC is also an older sibling. And (only if you want) meeting their younger sibling, please 🙏

Btw love your works ♡♡♡

Lucifer Number 2~

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

It doesn't occur to Lucifer how similar the two of you are, but the first thing he realizes is how pleasant conversations with you can be. You both share common interests, your tastes suit his own, and you seem to be the only competent person in this house.

You're the responsible type, and he likes it. He'll sometimes find you scolding his brothers for their behavior too, and as amusing of a sight as that may be, he doesn't want you to be burdened with their idiocy.

AND you're the eldest sibling in your household? Cheers to that. You too know the weight of being the responsible oldest, and the role one must take to ensure their siblings grow up well. You too know that you'd rather your siblings have things easier than you did.

But there's one thing he finds annoying... You can NEVER speak your feelings, and act as if it’d kill you to do so. He can respect secrecy when it's appropriate, but Lucifer would like to know what's on your mind. Not only that, but you can be HORRIBLY headstrong. There's nothing that can stray you away from what you've already decided.

"MC, I request that you take a few days off from school to do as you please. I've already spoken with Diavolo and your professors, and you've been given an excuse. I know you'll study anyway, so I've dropped off your assignments in your room. But... you should rest. It isn't good for you to be pushing yourself so hard. Hm? You're calling me a hypocrite?"

Mammon

As if one Lucifer wasn't enough. Now there's TWO of em?! Why's his luck gotta be so lousy!

Definitely the first to realize how much like Lucifer you are, and was SHOOK. Seriously, what gives?! What horrors exist in the human world that could've made you like THAT..?

Ever since you showed up, it's been impossible to get away with anything! He can't sneak out of the house because you're always there somehow, you tattle on him when you catch him leaving anyone's room, and you won't even let him copy your homework! What gives?!

Avoids you like the plague. You're no fun! There's only rare moments when you're kinda okay, and he likes those the best. The times when you're kinda sensitive and you'll drop the high and mighty act. But then you're back to being a pest!

"For the billionth time, I ain't got time to study! There's money to be made, and a guy like me ain't gonna waste a second lookin' at a dumb book when I could be- H-Huh?! You're gonna call Lucifer?! N-now, there's no need to be so hasty, right? Oi!! I'm sorry, damn it-!"

Levi

What's the deal with Lucifer number two? As comedic of a trope as that may be, Levi doesn't really care for having two nagging types in the house. Especially a human...

When you're in his room, all you do is nitpick about how he should tidy up and open a window! Don't you know that an otaku's room is his pride and joy?! It's a sacred space not to be trampled on by the opinions of a normie!!!

But still... he has to admit that even if you don't get all the stuff he's talking about, you at least try to understand it. And there are even some of his interests that you're genuinely invested in!

You might be a pain in the neck and harass him about annoying things, but he guesses he can deal with it if you'll actually sit through a TSL marathon with him...

"I-I'll lend you this manga, so make sure you read it! And when you're finished with that, I'll lend you the spin-off series by the author's brother! I know you'll like it, since you're interested in gritty stuff. Oh, and- Huh? My laundry? Y-yeah.... I'll do that.."

Satan

You are... surprisingly good company. Satan enjoys talking to you over afternoon tea, and the two of you share stories between one another.

But still, he can't shake the feeling that there's something... unpleasantly familiar about your personality. It isn't until you say something that sounds suspiciously similar to what Lucifer would say that he realizes who you remind him of. And oh, he hates it.

Tries playing pranks on you, but somehow they never go to plan. How that is is beyond him, but you never fall for anything! No matter how sweet his smile, you're always rightfully suspicious. You're annoyingly meticulous about checking your surroundings, and you're so aware of yourself that it's troublesome! Be more gullible!!

The king of petty has decided that its now his life goal to make you fall for at least one of his pranks. He doesn't care how elaborate he has to make it, or how unrewarding the payoff may be. He'll make you pay for seeing his brother in two places at once.

"MC, would you like to join me this afternoon for a book reading? Though, I'd love it if you could read this book in particular. I think you'll find it very-.... Hm? 'Isn't this the cursed book that makes you grow hair all over your body', you ask? Ahaha.... tch."

Asmo

Come now, there can't be TWO killjoys in the house! That's way too depressing!! It was funny at first to see that there's someone who can match the scary Lucifer's energy, but now it's becoming a nuisance!

You won't even go to the countless parties he's invited you to! Hell, you barely even give yourself room to mess around a little? Isn't it boring being so tightly wound? You're in luck, because the adorable Asmo-chan knows the PERFECT way to let loose~

You'll RARELY let him close to you, and that's usually when you're tired of him harassing you. Then he gets the honor of playing with your hair while you've got no energy to fight back! He'll style it wonderfully for you!

Also nags you to take better care of yourself. You're not a demon, so you have to care for your health! These late night study sessions are giving you bags under your eyes! And stop taking on so many extracurricular activities!

"Geez, MC! I didn't think you'd die from overworking, but that's the path you're headed on! You really are like Lucifer, you know? That being said, I'll do my best to make sure you relax! Shall we begin~?"

Beel

Beel may not be too bothered by Lucifer's strictness, but that doesn't mean he's immune to it. To think that even a human can be like that...

It's nice to see that you can take care of yourself, but aren't you working too hard? Your grades are good and you've got many interesting talents, but you also have to properly rest.

Has started bringing you snacks on the regular. And don't even think about skipping meals, because he won't allow it. He'll literally pick you up and bring you to the table if he has to. And if you're staying up late to study? He'll carry you to bed. Don't try to protest.

Beel is your babysitter now and there's nothing you can do about it. It's good to be responsible, but don't think about trying to take care of everyone else if you can't care for yourself. Now eat these twelve meat buns he bought for you.

"MC, let's eat lunch together. I know you were going to skip because I heard you talking to Solomon earlier, and I won't let you. Ah, don't worry about not having money, because I've already bought you some lunch. Let's eat in the courtyard."

Belphie

NO.... IT CAN'T BE... THIS HAS TO BE A NIGHTMARE....HE WANTS TO WAKE UP....

You're such a drag. You harass him to attend student council meetings, but him about his studies, and won't let him avoid a single obligation he has. What are you, his mother?

Has 100% joined forces with Satan to try to make you fall for many, many unsuccessful pranks. Are you curse proof or something? When he tried a '10 hour bed-head' spell on you, it just rebounded right to him! Then he found out that you'd borrowed a spell repelling amulet from Solomon and realized just how prepared you are...

When you aren't bothering his entire soul by trying to make him do things, you're actually nice to talk to. You're knowledgeable, you pay attention to the people around you, and you can always read a room. He likes to ask you for advice sometimes.

"Aren't you tired of being like that all the time? So... attentive, I mean. You should just take a nap some time. Or better yet, take the week off. Maybe I'll teach you how to properly relax? Then you might finally be able to take that stick out of your- ow... What're you hitting me for?"

[dreamieshouse]

◆ The Bumpy Ice Rink ◆

°° who knew that someone besides your coach was focused on watching you while you skate. So, Jeno has a mission.

◸ Ficacafe Trope Event ◿

◤ highly competitive x lets them win

genre: sfw [2.6K]

pairing: jeno x figure skater.reader (fem)

warning: mention of alcohol

○ The Red Room | The Sunshine Room | The Kitchen

If it was one thing your school was known for, was its sport department. Namely the figure skating team, ever so elegant on the ice but extremely fierce during vigorous training. Competition season meant that every skater was more roused than ever and you were no exception. You practiced till perfection and not many things were able to stop you, minus sleeping and eating that is. One thing your team pride off was being the top team for synchronized skating.

It wasn't always a golden win. You and everyone else started from rock bottom, enduring all kinds of pain, experiencing losing and yet you never gave up. Not even when the articles wrote negatively about your loss. Some members were not even trained since young, only taking interest when they were a bit in the older age range. Regardless, you all trained hard. So if it was one word the anyone who knew you or your team, the word 'highly competitive' would be much appropriate.

The only thing that makes the anger management worse just so happened to be this year, when your finals and first round competition schedules aren't far apart. Not only did that meant training extra, it also meant studying extra. Double the burden. In roughly 2 weeks, you were gonna have to balance the schedule differently than before. If you trained in the evenings every day, now you were going to alternate morning priorities.

"I swear to god, whoever was in charge of making and arranging the schedules .... if i find them, i will grip out their hair" you threatened basically nobody but the stray cat who seemed to be both listening to you and falling asleep.

You felt the table vibrate and lost focus on what you were currently studying, not that you were paying attention to your notebooks much anyway. Rolling your eyes, you looked to your left and sure enough it was your phone vibrating. It was Chenle calling. So you drop your pen and picked up his call.

"If you talk about that toad you saw yesterday and how you wished you had a yeehaw hat on you one more time, i'm going to throw you in a lake"

"Well hello to you too. But think about think about it, it would've been epic if i had a picture of it" he answered. Some may be taken back by your tone but he was used to it, so he didn't pay much attention to it.

"Zhong Chenle" you warned him, already massaging your temples. The more he spoke, the more you understand why Renjun holds most of the boys' braincells.

"Ok ok I'll stop"

"You're calling me because...?"

"Do you not keep track of time? It's time for practice ... hello?" You suddenly remembered that you agreed to come in for that night but it looks like you'd be running later than you promised.

"Oh shit ... ok. Be there in 15 minutes" you quickly packed your stuff and rushed to your car, off to the skating rink. Normally the team used their own skating rink the school built, but for about a week, it was undergoing construction work for repairs and upgrade. So the team borrowed the nearest rink available.

You were a little disorganized at this point, with your bag casually thrown to the back of your car without much care for your books, your hair a little out of place and a few more unhinged displacements. See, when you're late, finding parking means it's one hell of a task to do, especially if you wanted a spot closest to the entrance. After a while, you found one but it was a bit of a walk.

The team had already begun without you so you instead focused on your solo performance routine. What you let slip past your mind was the fact that your blades were in need of a change.

"You forgot to get them new ones didn't you?" interrupted Chenle. You turned your back so quick to glare at him, warning him to shut it.

He was a close friend of yours but he was roughly 2 years younger than you. So he had different finals schedule than you did, he wasn't as busy and worried as you were. While it might seem that he had no social cues, it was really just his confidence in you that he knew you'd do well regardless. Maybe not all As, but certainly nothing below Bs.

He finally left you alone to go and yell at his teammates for reasons you don't care to pay attention to, and you resume your practice.

Every now and then your coach had something to point out and correct you, in which you tried to follow along but you were not succeeding. It had only been 25-ish minutes though your failures keep happening. You quickly lost your temper on the 4th fall you had, stomping the ice in your skates. Not the smartest move because it did hurt.

"There is no way I can practice like this," you mumbled to yourself as you come to a quick decision, "coach! I'm done for today!" and immediately left the rink to go home.

Maybe a good night's sleep was what you needed....

---- *night after the first paper

Around an hour or so after you finished your first paper, someone came knocking on your door, demanding to be let in. You could only hope your neighbours weren't bothered by the sight of him almost always coming over. Usually he would text you first, but it might have slipped his mind this time.

"Keep bothering me and I'll tell the girls you've been seeing that you sleep while hugging your precious water bottle"

"I come with peace. Let's hang out at my place tonight. I got everyone else ready but I want ... no need you to be there" he invited you.

At first you really wanted to turn his offer down, but the more you ponder on it, it didn't sound too bad. You'd save some money for dinner while you're at it. So there he was, rummaging through your closet and trying his best to put something decent for you.

"The next vacation we have, i am forcing you to throw these out and have you buy new ones" according to him, you dress like a grandma.

Not a very fashionable grandma at that. At last, he gave up and settled you in all black, with your only pair of knee high boots. The only colour you had was your gold necklace. And of course, you had to be the one driving to his house.

Everyone else who were invited seemed to already get started without the home owner around. Not a lot of people, truly just a small group his close friends. Since you haven't meet up with anyone else in the past few months, you did feel a little out of place. Some were drinking, some had tea while others had coffee. You hated coffee and you didn't feel like getting drunk, so you went with the tea.

Maybe it was the new-ish surroundings, maybe it was the caffeine but you were constantly jittery as you held onto your cup tighter. Your eyes were busy finding Chenle, in hope to gain some sense of ground-ness but he was nowhere to be found.

As soon as you turned to your right, you see a boy standing at the doorway, looking at you. You didn't know who he was but you did not that was dressed similarly to you, only with red accents on his leather jacket.

"Chenle's friend?" he asked, walking towards you. You nodded and his smirks to himself. If you noticed, you wondered why. But you were too busy filling your thoughts about him, just by his looks. He was hot. 'Too hot for someone like me' you thought. You expected yourself to be out of his league.

From outside, you both heard a girl's voice calling out to him and that's how you found out his name. Although, it didn't look like Jeno was very pleased to be summoned and he wasn't hiding it either.

"Fucking hell ..." he cursed under his breath the shaking his head, "coming!".

He turned back his attention to you for a split second, "see you later pretty" and the next thing you knew it, he was gone. What remained was his lingering scent. A subtle mask of wood like cologne.

'Shit ... and he had to smell good too huh?' You could only hope this encounter was a one-time thing.

Dating was not going to happen if you wanted to graduate and be a gold medallist at the same time. You had only dated once before, the first year. It nearly costed you your sports career as your ex tried his best to persuade you into moving across countries where skating was not much of an option. Only after you broke up you realized how bad that relationship was and thankfully, you got out.

"Ya Lee Jeno" someone got his attention but they didn't sound too happy. Chenle was fuming, the boy could practically see smoke coming out from his sides. Chenle had a glass bottle in hand he used to point at his friend instead of his fingers. He was going to have another good talk with this friend of his.

“What is this … this talk I hear going about? You approached her?” questioned Chenle. He was worried for you.

“I promise you I didn’t even do anything,” Jeno replied, looking to the ground. That seemed to release a bit of Chenle’s tension,

“yet” that was until Jeno smirked. Chenle didn’t have to say much in order for him to understand what was trying to be conveyed.

“I know you’re not a bad person, but please at least tell me you know you’re a playboy”

“in my defense, I always tell them I’m over them when I’m over them. Not my fault they cling. Also please don’t ever use that word on me. I prefer the term … simply having fun” he said it so casually, like having power over someone’s heart was not a big deal.

“please be careful with her” and that was the last thing your best friend to Jeno, leaving Jeno alone for the rest of the night. So he did the only thing he's wanted to do, get your number. He was doing exactly that.

"Hey beautiful!" a familiar voice hollers at you from the open wide backyard. Even at night it was beautiful, thanks to the fairy lights Chenle hung up.

"I have a name you know" you answered him, leaning forward the isolated kitchen island and your nearly empty cup still in hand. Jeno only smirks at you, noticing the more relaxed body language of yours, even if you didn't.

"Well do I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" he asked, coming closer. You took a while to answer, pretending to think through your reply.

"no" as hot as he was and as badly as you wanted to be around his delicious cologne, maybe in arms perhaps, you tell yourself that you would not tell him your name.

"shame" he fake pouts. You only shrugged, "what to do?" you feigned defeat. But he was not going to back down easily. He was Jeno, Lee Jeno. There were not many people who didn't want to be with him, not many girls that didn't want to let him linger around a little longer. yet, only he gets to call the shots.

"you're right, there is only one way to do" 'what is he up to now' you think, scanning his handsome face.

"Let's play a game, beer-pong to be exact. in teams of 2, 5 rounds. You win and yo get ignore me. I win and I get your number" of course he would make a bet, he just looked like the type to make some stupid bet. Especially one that obviously favoured him.

"You think I'm stupid. I'd be stupid to take up that offer. Ignoring you over giving my contact is a loss for me either way" you argued. You easily ignore him even without the game, so why wait for failure. You had to give it to him. You sucked at games and it felt like he could feel that about you. He did.

Mentally, Jeno rolled his eyes, he couldn't let you get away from him that easily, "you win and you get to flick my head"

"not a chance"

"2 times!"

"bore"

"3"

"i wonder if there are apples in the fridge ... you want some?" you push yourself up from the kitchen island to turn around and walk towards the fridge when you halted your movements come his next bargain,

"5 flicks!" now who would turn down that offer. Jeno knew he was really putting himself in a tough spot, but a great risk takes home greater rewards. Once a while he too could be a 'go big or go home' type of person.

What exactly was it about you that made him want to do that and set himself up for possible humiliation? He doesn't know, it was just a gut feeling ... or maybe he couldn't stand the fact that he kept trying and you kept rejecting him as if Chenle had warned about him to you beforehand, which he didn't.

"Call" and you discard your cup, "winning the game and getting to flick you 5 times in front of other people? such a steal" Which really wasn't. You were in denial - defense mode, you can see what your body is doing and what you're saying, but it isn't fully registered in your brain.

"You mean .... a simple game and I get to get your number? You sure bet it's a deal", Jeno whistles out.

"You're so confident you're gonna win the bet"

"I'd be stupid for not". And with that, you paired up with Jaemin, against Jeno and Haechan, more friends of Chenle.

20 minutes go by, several drinking cups gone, hairs looking like a monster and sore throats later, both teams were at the last round. It was either you and Jaemin who were going to win, or it was Jeno and Haechan who were going to win.

"ya Na Jaemin .... make me lose and I'll rip your hairs out"

"even if bald I'd still be hotter than you" you looked at him perturbed. Only he would think such a thing nonchalantly. But he wasn't wrong.

"Ready to give up your number pretty?" Jeno was smiling eye to eye. You could only scoff, but secretly you were anxious at the thought of losing to him even though you just met him tonight.

"Anddd the winnerrr issss ............ JAEMIN'S TEAM!!" as soon as you realized you had won the game, you and Jaemin ran into each other, celebrating your victory. You whipped your head to turn around and stuck out your tongue in mockery.

"Meeekk looooseerrr" you mocked the losing team. You see Haechan poking his tongue against his cheeks. He was obviously salty that you and Jaemin won instead of him. Jeno, however, he rolled his eyes at your teasing but unlike Haechan, he didn't seem too be too affected by it. Jeno was .... oddly still smiling, holding your gaze. Was he planning something again? Yes, he was.

But you didn't know that. You didn't know Jeno was at the skating rink that day when your practice was just rough bumpy ice. You didn't know that Jeno's eyes instantly was captured by your figure, looking graceful.

And you also didn't know, that Jeno let you win this game. Because he had a feeling that you needed a little cheer up. So if purposely letting win was the way to do it, so be it. All it matters that night to him, was seeing you much more relaxed and stress free.

↣ Tags: @woowommy | @yungisstar1117 | @mingi-ivity | @pikacuuuuuuu | @da-bins-yu | @jenossslut | @multidreams-and-desires | @choppedupcactus | @multidreams-and-desires | @yunkiwii |

{Asks to be added into taglist}

↣ Request OPEN: reactions + mtl + *idols as__* | send an ask!

↣ net: @k-library | @kpclub | @ficscafe | @prism-nw |

[forgotten-queers-event-week]

Hey folks! Took a bit for me to get back around to this; I got a new job and then a rarepair week hit, but I'm back!

The interest check survey got 46 responses, and 36 of those were people indicating they would be interested in participating.

I'm going to answer a few of the questions I got in the final section, and I'll make a post with general information later today.

Questions and concerns presented in the interest check survey:

Does the work have to be posted on tumblr or can it be posted somewhere else?

I will be making an AO3 collection, so people will be able to post there as well. If you do not have a tumblr, I will reblog here to the event blog.

some hesitation about poly just from the number of threesome fics in fandom already - obianidala, bailbrehaobi, codexwan, etc. not entirely sure there's any solution for that, however, and it would be good to see less straight (hah) triad works

While Star Wars does have a relatively high amount of threesomes, I would argue that they are not actually polyamory, as often as not, just a threesome. It's also a fairly small fraction of the overall whole; Star Wars is just so big that even that small fraction feels like a lot.

I intend to keep the polyamory prompt.

Just general interest about the details of the event- dates, additional rules, etc. I like the overall concept but don’t particularly want to end up in a fandom war by accident (just a general Star Wars fandom observation, not an accusation of those proposing the event)

I will be addressing this later today! The primary rules will be no bashing, tag appropriately, and keep the prompts and theme in mind when writing.

I probably won't be able to do much creating until like may cause grad school is eating my brain

We are currently looking at late June.

day 3 might be better phrased as bisexual or bicurious?

Nope! Day three “it may be M/F, but that doesn’t make it straight” is meant to touch on all those 'straight couples' that get flack at pride parades, even though:

One or both is bi or pan

One or both is trans

One or both is ace/aro

Any variation that is not cishet, honestly

If I adjust phrasing, it will be to “it may be M/F, but that doesn’t make it cishet”

I'm gay but don't really relate to the other categories so I'm not sure how I'd participate without taking away the voices of others or creating for an experience that is not my own.

Create away! You don't need to be writing about the dark and heavy vagaries of a queer existence; a sketch of a character waving a pride flag counts!

If you do want to work on something that is heavy or more complicated, there are plenty of queer people in fandom. You can probably find someone willing to help you brainstorm or look it over for major red flags.

With the event centered around queer characters - and I assume mostly being participated in by queer creators - I think it would be a good idea to have it in the event rules that aphobia/transphobia/etc must be tagged in fics. I'd also like to know if it's canon-only or if OCs would be allowed too, since that wasn't mentioned in the post. Either way, the idea sounds great and I'd love to participate.

Noted! Proper tagging etiquette is a big deal to me, and while I will allow wiggle room (e.g. if a person thinks it may bloat their tags to include everything, they can go with 'see author's note for warnings' and I will consider it due diligence), including proper warnings is a big deal.

I hadn't thought about OCs yet, but my instinct is that they can be included.

“Ace and aro spectrums” rather than “ace and aro spectrum (singular)” would be better since they are separate identities that don’t always overlap.

A good point! I'll adjust, going forward.

You had me at an ace day 🥺 also idk if I'd be able to participate in writing (deadlines for other projects in abroad for the first two weeks in June) but i would DEFINITELY consume content!!

As mentioned a little further up, we are now looking at late June.

This is an extremely weird thing to put in this box, but my friend sent the post about this challenge to me all pissy because "I don't know why poly people would be on here ahead of regular gay men and lesbians", and it made me, a genderfluid bi ace person, almost blind with rage. Thank you for making a space that specifically opens doors to identities that are less inherently known and understood in real life.

Absolutely baffling take from your friend, considering the theme is 'the queers we don't talk about,' so the entire point is to talk about stuff that is... not 'regular' gay men and lesbians. That. That's a bit of a red flag, oof.

I'm glad you're excited!

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.11

ch1 ch2 ch3 ch4 ch5 ch6 ch7 ch8 ch9 ch10

Summary: last chapter, let there be some sweet stuff

----

By some miracle, the bullet did not hit anything major, which meant a rather uneventful recovery. Laughing and sudden movements still sent a jolt of pain through her body even a week later, but at least she could move around now.

Every day Daniela would come to Cassandra’s room where she was staying and change her bandages while listening to her instructions. She wanted to learn, and Nicole was more than happy to oblige. Especially when having a wound free of infection was on the line. Cassandra would simply busy herself with something else or talk to the eldest sister in the meantime. They were too far to hear, not that Nicole actually cared to listen while inspecting the literal hole in her skin, but she did catch Bela huffing out a fine.

After a new bandage was in place, the other two sisters left, Daniela with a bright smile at the skill she was learning and Bela rolling her eyes at the thanks from her middle sister. Once they were alone again, Nicole raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the brunette.

“What was that about?”

Cassandra pressed her palms together, eyes darting around the room before finally landing on her lover.

“You know how my moms invited you to dinner?” Nicole widened her eyes in mild panic. “Well you can’t exactly go wearing a uniform, so I asked Bela if we could borrow one of her dresses. Sine she’s the shortest,” Cassandra added with a snicker.

Nicole furrowed her brows. While Bela was the shortest among the three sisters, she still had quite a few inches on her, so any of her dresses would just turn into an impromptu floor sweeping. Maybe a shorter one could work. Cassandra didn’t seem to care to dwell on it as she plopped down on the bed beside Nicole. She seemed oddly nervous.

“I-... I have something for you.”

She turned around and pulled something from her nightstand’s drawer. When she got back to facing her, a dagger wrapped in black leather was in her hand.

“Not that you’ll need it again. But if you must stab someone this will work better than a scalpel.”

Nicole slowly slid the blade from its holster, the metal almost shiny in the room’s low light. The handle, like many other objects in the castle, had the Dimitrescu crest on it. The intricate leaves and petals wrapped around each other as if they weren't made from metal but just freshly plucked from the garden. To top it off, the tip of the handle had an ochre gem, not too different from the one on Cassandra’s choker. Nicole traced her fingers gingerly over the details, a fond smile tugging at her lips. It was lovely.

"Thank you," she whispered, almost afraid that speaking any louder would ruin the moment.

Cassandra didn't reply though, only shifting closer and pressing a kiss to her temple. She didn't really need to say anything, the gesture speaking loud and clear without the aid of any words.

Nicole pulled Cassandra down into a deep kiss. A kiss that was meant to say all the things neither of them could put into words, that seemed so insignificant compared to their lips sliding together in that moment. Her hand left the dagger on the sheets and found its way into dark locks, pulling Cassandra even closer. To her annoyance, it was the brunette the one to pull away with a knowing smirk.

"As much as I'm enjoying myself, Bela's gonna be back in a few minutes and then we're heading to dinner. Wouldn't want to be late now would we."

Nicole's reply was overly dramatic and drawn out. "Oh my, I wouldn't dream of it."

Cassandra only chuckled at her and got up to change into something more dinner appropriate herself. She chose a white blouse with beautiful intricate embroidered patterns all around the collar and sleeves, complete with a pair of leather pants. Leather pants that Nicole would've enjoyed the view of were in not for the knock on the door.

"Come in!" Cassandra called from where she was strapping in a pair of boots.

The door opened with a slight creak, and the eldest sister slipped inside, a black dress draped over one arm. She came over to Nicole and set it on the bed, careful not to cause any wrinkles.

"I hope it goes without saying that if you spill anything on it I will break your legs."

"You will do no such thing," Cassandra said quickly, having finished dressing. She leaned over her sister's shoulder and whistled at the sight of the dress. "Wow darling I hope you like looking like a creepy gothic countess."

Nicole laughed at Bela's annoyed eye roll. "I'd love to. It's an awesome look actually."

Bela huffed at her younger sister, pointing exasperatedly to the redhead. "See? She gets it. Glad to see at least you found someone that understands fashion."

"Your fashion is either gothic vampire, good job with the stereotype there by the way, or tired teenager who's wardrobe consists only of baggy shirts. It's always a fifty fifty with you."

Cassandra was now openly laughing, one arm around her midsection. Bela simply smacked her on the shoulder and turned to leave the room. Before she could slip out however, she called out to her sister.

"Oh and Cassandra," she waited for the brunette to look at her. "Mother's in a good mood."

Cassandra grinned, suddenly seeming a lot more excited about dinner.

It took thankfully little effort to slip the dress on, a shorter one that normally would reach the knees, but on Nicole it was more around mid calves. She only needed help with the zipper on the back. Help that her lover was happy to provide, complete with a kiss at the back of her neck.

When they looked at themselves in the full length mirror standing in the corner of the room, Nicole couldn't help the feeling of pride swelling in her chest. Pride at being there with the woman she loved. Actually loved. And who shared her feelings in kind.

"What was it about wanting to become a creepy gothic countess?"

Nicole chuckled at the sly smile the brunette was giving her through the mirror. She decided to humor her, intentionally not letting her mind run with the possible implications. "Oh, isn't that every girl's dream," she said, fully aware that it was not.

Cassandra tapped her chin for a moment, eyes looking to the side in thought. She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and decided to interlock their fingers instead. She pulled Nicole away from the mirror and into a gentle kiss before she spoke.

"Let's go."

She simply nodded and let herself be guided through the castle's ancient dark halls, hand in hand with Cassandra. They walked in silence until they reached the door to the dining hall, light spilling from the small crack underneath. Looks were shared. They both had a mix of nervousness and excitement clear on their faces. Beyond the door, the other members of the family could be heard, Esteria's voice telling a tale too muffled to reach their ears, that seemed to make Daniela laugh. Even the Lady chimed in with a comment that made the youngest sister blurt out some protesting words.

Cassandra chuckled and gave her a final kiss on her temple, before pushing the heavy door open for the both of them and pulling her inside.

Had a less… unhinged person been in her place, they'd be full of dread. But for Nicole, she couldn't remember a time when she truly felt like she could call a place home. And if home was a terrible castle led by women that could tear anyone to pieces, then so be it. She'd happily sit by their side, by Cassandra's side, and let herself be wrapped up in all the horrors within the ancient walls.

[desdemonafictional]

"I know it doesn't seem so, but I'm going to take care of you" Whirl/Cyclonus?

"...Galvatron, what is this?"

The rotary, once a graceful and lithe figure, had been chopped at the wrists and dismantled at the faceplate. Where there ought to have been an intake and a nasal ridge and all the usual details of a faceplate, only hollow yellow light remained. Like a drone. Like the face of a drone.

"A deserter," Galvatron said, lip rippling into a sneer. "The little coward made a break for it during shore-leave. Couldn't take military life, I suppose."

"You suppose," Cyclonus repeated. The hollow yellow eye was fixed on him. Mute, expressionless.

"I don't care for the prattlings of cowards," Galvatron said, flicking his fingers. "No matter why he did it. We caught him."

"This isn't..." Cyclonus started. Normally deserters were demoted and reassigned to a position less enabling to flight-risk personnel. "What has happened to his face?"

"It's a new disciplinary action the bureaucrats recommended," Galvatron said. "Demotion is just a number on a rank check. This will make them feel it."

Cyclonus' tanks twisted uneasily. He was a captain, he certainly did not shy away from proper discipline among his soldiers, but this was--this was a violation beyond anything he was comfortable with. His soldiers were free mechs. They had to be, the heart of the fighting force was the will of individuals to defend their brothers. Without will, without spark, he might as well command a fleet of drones. There should always be pride in one's work.

"I don't like this uptick in rebellious sentiment lately," Galvatron went on, "too many of our mechs are getting ideas about how this army is to be conducted. It's time for a crackdown. You'll get this one, to set an example for the rest."

"Yes, sir," Cyclonus said. "I will assign him a position in scullery."

"No, no," Galvatron said, and at this he smiled. "I don't want him near the others. I'm giving him to you personally."

The word "giving" set off a klaxon in Cyclonus' alarm protocols. "Sir?" he said.

Galvatron reached out and gripped the rotary by his slender neck, over the vocal blocker that sat clunky and dark around his throat. The rotary twitched, but he was secured too well to resist the touch. Military grade restraints were thorough.

"He has an excellent alt mode," Glavatron said, "good coding, aside from the disrespectful streak. You're always telling me you're too busy with work to engage in courtship--how admirable you are, my dear captain, and yet, for the good of our species, we mustn't let your good breeding go to waste forever."

Cyclonus held himself entirely still. The single yellow eye seared through him like a condemning searchlight.

"You will get heirs off this reprobate," Galvatron instructed him. "Several, I suggest. With the correction from your coding, we shall have a cadre of officers in short order."

The rotary's engine, not nearly so powerful as a jet, growled with some nameless, unexpressed emotion. Galvatron laughed.

"Have fun, Captain," he said, and tossed the bound mech into Cyclonus' arms. "He's a handful, I've been told."

The mech was certainly an armful--his frame was blazing hot, barely mobile, and now struggling furiously against his restraints as if the tumble forward had re-awoken his desperation to flee. Cyclonus tightened his grip, more out of a worry that the mech would unbalance and tip himself over.

Galvatron said, "Once you've gotten a litter out of him, we'll see about appropriate reassignment. Although if you'd like to keep him... well, we can discuss it." He flashed a smile with a nasty edge, and then added, "You're dismissed."

With little other recourse, Cyclonus took himself off active status and spent the next several minutes hauling an unhappy prisoner back to his quarters in the officer barracks. As fleet captain, he had his own suite on the base. The process of hauling was as humiliating to himself as it must have been to the rotary--undignified, unusual, and not at all the image of reasonable authority he endeavored to project for his mechs.

In the middle of the room, on his own precarious legs, Cyclonus stood the rotary up and stepped back, overcome with a clawing helplessness. Galvatron was his admiral, his direct superior, and Cyclonus' desire to respect the chain of command could not seem to reconcile with the absurd and cruel order he had been given. His soldier were free mechs. They could not be--they could not be--

He slammed the lock key on his suite door and stood there, head bowed, for a moment while his vents bled off heat. Then he turned.

What could he say? Introductions were laughably late, at this stage. Reassurances? It would be a false promise, as even he did not yet know what would come to pass.

"I am not a cruel mech," Cyclonus said, his voice thick and clogged. "I have no desire to be your tormentor."

He reset his vocalizer. "I know it doesn't seem so," he said, "but I will take care of you."

He came closer, hands hovering above the hot navy plating, and unlocked the inhibitor around the mech's throat.

The mech's own vocalizer popped and cracked, and then--with a crunch of static--it said, "Yeah? Pull the other one, you truckfucker."

[minaslittleone]

Fission & Fusion (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story “And I failed to climb the mountain”.

Word count: ~2500

Professor Thompson was not surprised that she had to go searching for Wilhemina the following evening. Part of her had hoped that the young woman would have been waiting for her, a sign that she was allowing herself to accept the genuine support proferred to her. That was not to be. It was only natural, she supposed, as she made her way through the concrete wasteland that served as the hotel's parking lot, that after a lifetime of being belittled and dismissed, of being told she was nothing but a burden, that Wilhemina would find it difficult to accept help. To even believe that the offer of help was genuine.

The older woman shook her head as she raised her her hand to knock on the door indicated by the disinterested girl working reception. The world, and people, really could be so cruel.

When her initial knock went unanswered, she tried again slightly louder this time. Again she was greeted by only silence.

"Wilhemina." she called out, as she knocked for a third time. "Wilhemina, it's Professor Thompson. Can you let me in dear?"

In the beat of silence that followed, she could feel Wilhemina's indecision - her pride balking at the idea of reaching out to accept the tender care that her heart so dearly yearned for. For now, pride relented.

There was a jangle of keys as nervous fingers fought against the lock and deadbolt. The door eased open a crack to reveal Wilhemina, shoulders curled in on themselves, head bowed, face obscured by a curtain of red hair and supporting a significant portion of her weight on her cane. Her form fitting dress from the previous day had been replaced by black leggings and a loose fitting faun jumper which dwarfed her slender frame, sleeves extending well past her wrists where her fingers toyed anxiously with the cuffs. As the older woman eased the door slightly further ajar she couldn't miss the way Wilhemina flinched, obviously uncomfortable with any kind of physical proximity.

"Wilhemina?" the older woman coaxed. Glassy brown eyes peaked from beneath swollen lids, tentatively meeting her gaze. As she did her long hair shifted just enough to reveal the array of grazes decorating her right cheek and temple, chronicalling the previous night's events like braille across her skin. Wilhemina fought against the instinct the pull away as the older woman gently lifted her hair to inspect the damage. And as much as she hated allowing anyone to bear witness to her weakness she couldn't help but wonder when she had last been touched with such tenderness.

And maybe that was what gave her the courage to recount the events of the night before, those soft, caring touches that spoke more than words ever could, that whispered insistently that she deserved so much more. From the grinding weight against her fingers to the sickening crunch of her skull on the concrete, the smell of stale alcohol and tobacco, and the taste of dispair as calloused fingers rifled through her book bag and located the money that was supposed to be her lifeline. And more than all of that, the shame of laying sprawled out on the concrete unable to move.

Eventually the sound of the steal capped boots had disappeared into the distance, apparently deciding she wasn't worth any further humiliation. You're too ugly even for that, her mother's voice cooed. Slowly, she had managed to lever herself from the ground, bracing herself between her cane and the wall. Her trembling fingers had finally managed to overcome the lock but all too late. She stumbled across the threshold, collapsing onto the bed, curling in on herself in a futile attempt to prevent any further pain.

Professor Thompson's fingers were back at her cheek, tenderly chronically the array of scrapes and bruises that were beginning to blossom across her pale skin. How hard had she hit her head? Did she lose consciousness? Does it hurt if I push here? Any blurred or double vision? Any other injuries? Her hands? Her knees? Her back? No. All just bruised, like her ego, and her heart.

Wilhemina remained fascinated by the cuffs of her sweater throughout Professor Thompson's assessment, fingers picking at small imperfections in the fabric. By the time she raised her eyes the older woman was already moving busily around the room collecting her meagre possessions into her discarded book bag. "Have I missed anything dear?" Wilhemina could only shake her head dumbly in response though her confusion must have permeated her features for Professor Thompson quickly added "If you think for one moment I am letting you stay here on your own Wilhemina, after what happened, you are very, very mistaken".

The older woman slung the sum total of Wilhemina's possessions easily over her shoulder, before extending her hands to the younger woman to help her to her feet. And for once Wilhemina felt no pity or judgement in the gesture, only genuine care.

It felt good to let go for a moment, she thought, as she allowed herself to be escorted to the older woman's car. To hand over the reins, even if momentarily, to someone who genuinely had her best interests at heart. She had always been independent, self-sufficient, mature; garnering praise from countless adults for how grown up she was ever since she was tiny. There had been other words too - bossy, control freak, frigid bitch - a need for order and precision in the small parts of her life that she could control. But she was so tired after trying to hold it all together on her own for so long. Because in reality she wasn't in control at all.

Wilhemina jumped as the driver's side door opened, having not really registered that Professor Thompson had disappeared, let alone returned. The older woman shot her a sympathetic glance in apology for having startled her before starting the car and pulling out of that god damn parking lot.

Not long after she found herself seated at her professor's kitchen table, a warm mug of sweetened tea once again pushed into her hands whilst the older woman cooked. She managed to only feel slightly guilty about that. The room reminded her a lot of the woman herself, no frills and practical but with an undeniable warmth, full of mismatched crockery rather than complete sets, as if each piece had been hand picked for its bawdy colour or intricate pattern. Like her office, Professor Thompson's home seemed a little worn around the edges in the best of ways, it spoke of memories and a life well lived. From the rings on the wooden table from endless hours of conversation over tea, to the dings in the plaster from exhuberant grandchildren the house could not be further from the modernist sterility Wilhemina had become accustomed to.

The next thing she knew a steaming bowl of stew was being placed in front of her and the older woman was joining her at the table. "I hope you don't mind, dear, I know it's nothing very fancy" the older woman added as Wilhemina stared fixatedly at the bowl in front of her. Don't be so rude you ungrateful idiot. "No of course not, it's smells wonderful, it's just that I don't think anyone has ever cooked anything for me before. Thank you."

The older woman paused at that, spoon left resting against the side of her bowl. "Surely your mother did, at least?" Wilhemina scoffed at that, the very idea of Fleur Venable undertaking a task a menial as cooking was almost amusing. "No, my mother never had much interest in cooking, especially when she could pay someone to do it for her." A wry smile passed over the older woman's face "Maybe I should have listened when everyone told me to go into private practice rather than academia, it certainly seems to have worked out well enough for your father. Though I don't think I would have found much contentment in commercial law, I don't think I would have been particularly fond of spending my professional life making rich people richer."

"I don't think it brought my father much contentment either, though that might have been living with my mother" Wilhemina muttered, drawing unapologetic laughter from the older woman. After that the meal was finished in comfortable silence.

Wilhemina was about offer to help with clearing the table when something fuzzy brushed against her leg drawing an embarrassing squeak from her, which she quickly clamped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle. "Oh it's alright, my dear, it's just Miko. Hello my sweet boy" the older woman cooed to the grey tabby cat rubbing affectionately at her ankles. "Oh I know sweetheart, I missed you too."

Miko, seemingly satisfied that he had greeted his mistress appropriately, took that moment to return his attention to Wilhemina, who's anxious gaze flicked between the cat and his owner. "Oh I'm sorry my dear, you're not allergic are you?" the older woman asked in response to Wilhemina's obvious apprehension. "No, I'm just not very good with animals" Wilhemina replied as Miko began sniffing at her ankles.

"He likes it if you scratch behind his ears" the older woman suggested.

So, slowly, Wilhemina allowed her right hand to unfurl from it's safe home in her lap downwards towards the inquisitive feline, or at least as far as her spine would allow. Miko craned his neck upwards to bridge the gap, first sniffing at her fingers before quickly beginning to nuzzle against them. Hesitantly Wilhemina began to trail her nails along the cats scalp, concentrating her ministrations behind his ears as his owner had suggested. She was rewarded by purrs of contentment, as Miko nuzzled into her hand with increased vigour. She couldn't help but smile at that.

Soon after Miko raised his front paws onto the bottom railing of the chair in an effort to get closer to Wilhemina, and began nuzzling into her thigh in earnest.

"What is he doing?"

"Oh don't worry, dear" the older woman replied. "He's just saying that he likes you. Well I suppose to be more correct he's transferring his scent onto to you to claim you as his, just in case any other cats get any ideas."

"I don't think anyone has ever claimed me as theirs before" Wilhemina whispered, fingers still threading tenderly through Miko's fur.

"Well Miko certainly has and so have I" the older woman replied, "and we both happen to have excellent taste."

Wilhemina could only reply with a small, trembling smile.

"Now come on dear, you've had quite an eventful few days and I doubt you slept much last night"

Wilhemina nodded and allowed herself to be escorted up the stairs towards the guest room, Miko following closely on her heals.

The room which Professor Thompson showed her to was already bathed in warm light from the bedside lamp and her book bag had been placed upon the quilt covered bed.

"Now the bathroom is just across the hall, dear, and I've put out fresh towels for you. If you need anything during the night my room is just down the hall, ok?"

"I'll be ok, but thank you" Wilhemina offered the older woman a shy smile.

Professor Thompson made to leave for the night before turning back unable to stop herself. "Forgive me asking dear, but haven't you heard from your parents? Surely they must be worried where you are?"

Wilhemina did not share her certainty. "I haven't checked my phone." Perhaps childishly she didn't want to check, because until she did she could cling onto the slim hope that maybe her parents did want to know where she was.

"You should check, my dear" the older woman coaxed. "I'll give you some privacy, but I'll be downstairs if you need me"

"Actually" Wilhemina blurted before the courage abandoned her, "would you stay?"

Professor Thompson took a seat on the bed beside her as she rifled through her book bag for her cell phone. One missed call. She almost couldn't believe it when her father's cell phone number blinked back at her on the LCD screen. With trembling fingers she retrieved the voicemail.

"Wilhemina, I understand that your mother can be difficult but surely all this fuss isn't necessary. If this was about making a point, you've made it, you can stop with this childish fit and the two of you can discuss this like adults. Honestly Wilhemina, you know I don't have time for this right now, the McMahon case goes to trial in less than a week, I have better things to be doing with my time than be refereeing some petty squabble between you and your mother. Just sorted it out."

Professor Thompson killed the voicemail halfway through the pre-recorded list of options, they certainly didn't want to listen to the message again.

"I'm so sorry, dear, I shouldn't have pushed you to check."

Wilhemina shrugged. "If I'm honest with myself, I didn't really expect anything different. I just hoped that maybe, I don't know..." she sighed. She did know, she had hoped that for once her parents would show ounce of love and affection, or even just anything more than apathy. Anything to indicate she was more than a burden or the fulfillment of a tickbox in the game of life.

"You would have thought that by now I would have stopped getting my hopes up" Wilhemina muttered, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.

"Never" the older woman asserted. "You get your hopes up because you care and you have such a capacity for love, which makes you so much more than either of them will ever be."

She reached up tenderly to wipe the tears from the younger woman's cheeks, careful to avoid to avoid the dark purple bruising now staining her right cheek.

"Besides, their loss is my gain and you have a place here for as long as you need it"