#and the pardon........ill get into that tomorrow

[toytulini]

act annoying on this post and ill block you ♡

everyone accusing black sails fans of Being Rude In The Notes owes me $10 for making me look in the notes (like. What. WHERE) and $10 more for subsequently making me witness the Stede fans also being unhinged petty assholes but it doesnt count when they do it, i guess?

at this point im saltier about Black Sails fans being repeatedly being called assholes but ofmd fans Not being called out for probably the same behavior or worse? and with what feels like very little. evidence? god damn

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt. 4)

((Part 1, Part 2, Part 3))

Helga lied when she said there’d be a dress set out on the bed for her.

 There are actually three.

The room is empty except for Cinderella’s soft footsteps. She clutches the robe around her throat as she approaches, eyes flicking from gown to gown in disbelief. Each is beyond what Cinderella has ever seen before in her life, the colors more vibrant that the most expensive fabrics in the seamstress’ shop, the lacing more delicate, the beading more opulent.

The first dress is a pale blue, the color like her mother’s eyes. Cinderella trails her fingers along the neckline. There are glittering clusters of jewels scattered along the skirt of the dress like flowers. It reminds her of the meadow she met the boy in on the clearest day.

The second dress is a rich red. Something in Cinderella shivers at the depth of the color, hungry and wanting. It’s a powerful dress with severe lines. The neckline is encrusted in rubies and the accents are so dark red that they appear black.

The third dress is the simplest of the three, though simple seems an ill-fitting word for it. It’s a comforting light green, like new growth and warm summers. There are no jewels on this one, but gold embroidery loops and curls near the hem and sleeves.  Cinderella traces her finger along one furl of embroidery, enjoying the tight knit stitch in comparison to the velvet of the fabric.

“He asked for me to pick something you’d like,” Helga says from the doorway.

Cinderella jumps. She didn’t hear her come in, so lost was she in the dresses. “They’re beautiful. You did a wonderful job.”

“He asked me to,” Helga says. She comes up beside Cinderella, running a critical eye over the three gowns. “But I didn’t know about you until two weeks ago, so how could I pick a dress? I gave him a style catalogue and told him to do it himself. In the end, he didn’t know what you wanted either. So he had three made. One for each night of the ball.”

Cinderella starts. “What?”

“Most women and men will wear the same clothes each night,” Helga says. She props her chin on her hand. “It’s very standard practice. They may change a layer or two, but gowns like this are works of art. Many take pride in wearing the same one.”

“That’s not what I’m surprised about,” Cinderella says, pressing a hand to her forehead. “The ball is three nights? Three?” Her stepmother and stepsisters never mentioned that.

“For some,” Helga says. She leads Cinderella to a small vanity and sits her in front of it. She pulls out a comb. “The purpose of this ball is for the Prince to find a bride, after all. A second invitation will be sent out after tonight for tomorrow’s ball. Then another on the second night for the third. After the third, the Prince will have made his choice.”

Cinderella doesn’t think she’ll get invited back for the second night, much less the third. “It’s a shame I’ll only be wearing one,” she says without thinking. She sighs. “That makes choosing even harder.”

Helga pauses combing out Cinderella’s hair. “Pardon?”

“Nothing,” Cinderella says. She hopes Helga can’t see the heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m just being selfish. All the dresses are so beautiful, I’m a little sorry I won’t be able to wear each one.”

“Oh, dear,” Helga says. She looks like she’s biting her cheek. “How you two remained friends all this time with his communication…”

Cinderella frowns. “Yes?”

“Never you mind,” Helga says. She sets Cinderella’s hair down with a pat. “Just take one day at a time, hm? Now, we’ve got three hours to get you dressed.”

“Three hours still?” Cinderella asks. She starts to rise. “If that’s the case, I can wait to--”

Helga gently pushes her back down into her seat. She meets Cinderella’s eyes in the mirror of the vanity. “Barely three hours,” Helga says. She whips out a thin, wooden stick. “It’s time for a little magic.”

 ---------------

Magic is real. By the end of the first hour, Cinderella has no way to deny it anymore. Somehow she’d been able to block the teleportation from her head very easily, but what Helga does-- well.

Magic is real.

With a wave of her stick - “It’s a wand, dear.” - Helga produces a gentle, warm wind to dry her hair. A bottle of lotion and hair oil floats out of the bathroom into Helga’s waiting hands. The entire time, Helga talks.

“Rose-scented, very popular in the Capital, but my lord hates it--” she throws the bottle over her shoulder “--he wasn’t allowed to make a request, so it’s really up to you. Perhaps orange blossom? Here, give it a smell--”

Cinderella obediently follows Helga’s directions, smelling this and that and rejecting the orange blossom in favor of vanilla, the mint in favor of lavender, the sugar over the spice. Her head is spinning faster than the collection of bottles rapidly growing above them. She can’t stop herself from grinning with each new feat of magic Helga absently performs. This is fun. This is interesting.

This is magic.

“Of course it is,” Helga says when Cinderella voices her thoughts. But she’s not calling Cinderella stupid. She sounds fond when she says it. Affectionate. “I’m very, very good at it. One day, I can teach-- well, that’s in the future, isn’t it? And we are focusing on one day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” Cinderella echoes obediently. It’s a strange mantra for Cinderella who has always looked so far ahead. One day, Father will come home. One day, they’ll love me. One day, I’ll be free. There is something liberating in only focusing on tonight. Something magical. “What’s next?”

“Next is makeup and jewelry,” Helga says. She straightens a curl in Cinderella’s hair and hums with satisfaction. “Which means it’s time for you, my dear, to choose a dress.”

“The green one,” Cinderella says immediately. She flushes when Helga raises her eyebrows. “It’s-- Have you ever seen an oak tree at the beginning of spring?”

“There are many oak trees in the Capital,” Helga says.

“New leaves are the same shade of green,” Cinderella says. She bites the inside of her cheek and looks at her hands twisting in her lap. Normally, she wouldn’t share so much but she likes Helga. She thinks it’s safe to say it here. “The first time he called me his friend, it was spring. That’s when it became my favorite season.” When she looks up, Helga has one hand pressed over her eyes. “Helga?”

“Spring is my lord’s favorite season as well,” Helga says. “I’m going to get cavities.” She fetches the dress from the bed, suspending it thoughtlessly in the air with magic, and continues before Cinderella can respond. “The gold goes well with your hair, so it must be gold jewelry. I’ll fetch some options.”

Helga bustles out of the room, sniffing loudly. Cinderella watches her go. She doesn’t understand what’s made Helga so emotional. She knows the boy’s favorite season is spring, but it’s not for any heartwarming reason. It’s because he’s no longer forced to keep the meadow from freezing over, freeing up more of his magic for the pranks he liked to pull.

But why did he need to keep the meadow from freezing over?

Cinderella reaches out and touches her dress. Almost like it has a mind of its own, it floats down to the exact height where she can examine the detail on the bodice more closely. She often thinks about questions like this and even asks them. She never receives an answer. Normally it would upset her, but her friend has always given her more than she can ever repay. The only way she can even attempt to is to not ask.

Maybe it’s time to ask. Not asking is kind. Not asking is easy. Not asking hurts--

Cinderella crushes the voice again. She’s focusing on tonight. She’s going to wear a beautiful gown in a beautiful room where nothing needs doing and nothing needs done. Hopefully her friend will be there so she can thank him properly - Is he human? Or is he in another tree? What is--? - and maybe she’ll even get the chance to dance.

As if in response to her thoughts, the dress swishes across the room, swaying and dipping in a phantom waltz. Cinderella watches it, entranced. The fabric catches on the candlelight, shimmering like the rainbows in the meadow. How would she look doing that? How would she feel?

“Oh,” Helga says as she closes the door behind her. The dress shudders to a halt and then rushes back to Cinderella’s side in approximately the same position it had been. “You really like this dress, my lady?”

My lady? “I’m excited to wear it,” Cinderella says instead, smiling with closed lips.

“Then we best get you ready,” Helga says. She’s still eyeing the dress from the corner of her eye, but she returns Cinderella’s smile. “There are some bigger necklaces to choose from but, after talking, I think you’d prefer something more delicate?”

“Something light,” Cinderella murmurs. Her heart is racing in her chest, the image of the dress dancing through the air bright in her mind. “Light enough to wear all night.”

“Very good.”

-------------------------.

Helga won’t let Cinderella look at herself until everything is done. She weaves pins with golden oak leaves into her hair and clasps a chain of gold so fine it feels like spiderwebs around her neck. The bracelet they decide on is a gold loop with strange symbols on it. Cinderella doesn’t know what they say, but the bracelet is warm in her hands, almost purring.

“My lord picked that one,” Helga says. She helps Cinderella slide it over her hand and adjusts the sleeve of her dress so that the bracelet falls atop it. “He’ll be thrilled you like it.”

When Helga finally allows Cinderella to look in the mirror, Cinderella doesn’t want to. She’s worried that her image will ruin the illusion. She feels cared for and pampered. She feels…warm and helpless with gratitude. Helga has made her feel so seen for the first time in a very long time.

Then she does see herself and the world drops away.

Cinderella is beautiful. So strange to call herself that! She is not in her body because this can’t be her. Her yellow hair is shining gold, coiled and looped around her head like a crown. The oak leaf pins catch the firelight and seem to glow. Her skin is not dry and unhealthy from waking too early and going to bed too late. There’s an inner glow she’s never seen before that makes her look radiant. The dress is beyond words. It sweeps along Cinderella’s body like art, the embroidery shining as brightly as the pins.

“Oh, my dear,” Helga says softly. She reaches out with a handkerchief and blots under Cinderella’s eyes. “Don’t cry! It’s alright.”

“I never wanted to be pretty,” Cinderella says, voice trembling. It comes out wrong, but how can she explain to Helga a lifetime of only wanting to be loved? Of never desiring fame or wealth or beauty? A lifetime of giving services and patience in hopes for affection? It feels shallow of her now to realize that she never needed to earn love. She deserved it, as any child did, and she has grown into such a beautiful adult without it entirely.

Cinderella looks at herself as if seeing a stranger and thinks, She deserved to be loved. Not because she is pretty, but because she is human.

Cinderella tests that thought like a child might test a flame. It stings when she touches it, but it’s a good pain. A healing pain. I deserved love. I deserved more. And then, It wasn’t my fault.

It wasn’t her fault. She is not the villain for running away. She is not bad for not being more patient, for not being more kind. She is alive and she has always been looking for more than what she was allowed. She needed more. She would have given any child more.

There is nothing evil in allowing herself this one night or, perhaps, even the next.

“Thank you, Helga,” Cinderella says, still staring at herself in the mirror. The older woman is concerned, worried eyes on Cinderella’s face, but Cinderella is smiling through her tears. She feels…good. Magical. There is a bubbling relief in her chest as warm as the bath she’d taken. “You’ve done more for me than you could ever know.”

“No thanks, my dear,” Helga says. She takes Cinderella’s hand. “Come now. Your carriage awaits.”

Cinderella follows her out of the bedroom and to the waiting world outside.

------

Next part we finally get Cinderella to the ball! Will she meet her friend? Her family? The Prince?

If you’d like to read the next part a week early, as well as a Patreon Exclusive I posted earlier this week, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X). 

Thanks for reading!

[tulipsforvin]

Can I request the moriarty brothers and Zack Paterson x reader reaching reader (i don't mind about the gender) too late and when they finally find reader, they're dead?

ᥫ᭡. MTP CHARACTERS REACH YOU LATE

✧ ⚠️: Death, suicide, murder, angst .. I think that's all.

╰┈⪼ ୨ William James Moriarty is busy teaching his class when he finds out you've passed in the hospital. ୧

“Now, you'll have some trouble solving the equations but once you get the hang of it - it'll be far easier for you all.” William says, palms against the podium as he looks over his class, a gentle smile plastered across his features.

Two knocks are heard on the door opposite to the podium he stands in front of. Slowly, the door is opened to a new face - looking at William with somber, hesitant eyes.

“Yes?” William lifts his head, gazing over the stranger. Several students turn their heads to look at the new man as well. “Can I help you?”

The man inhales, unsurely looking over the classroom. “Lord Moriarty, please. It's urgent.” He says, gesturing William to come closer towards the man.

William pauses, wondering what could be so urgent. He nods his head, making his way to the end of the class. The man takes William out of the classroom to break the news, whispering into his ear.

He stiffens, not sure if he's heard the man right. “Pardon? I-” His heart is thumping violently in his chest, feeling his palms get sweaty all of a sudden. The impact the news has is even worse when his older brother, Albert, comes personally to pick his younger brother up.

“William..” Albert rasps, guiding him towards the carriage to get to the hospital. William's dazed, feeling like he's not here, not present. Albert has to hold him by the shoulders.

It's only when he finds your lifeless body on the hospital bed when it finally clicks for him. He's standing in the doorway momentarily before his knees suddenly give out under him. Albert holds onto him, making sure he doesn't hurt himself from the fall. “What is..? Brother?” William turns to look at Albert, who's gaze is locked to the ground, afraid to meet his younger brother's eyes. “They were in a carriage accident, William.” He says silently. “They were crossing the road when a carriage's wheels suddenly came undone; crushing them under it's weight.”

He's so very soft and gentle when he gathers you into his arms, cradling you close to his chest. Soft sobs involuntarily make their way out of his throat as he rocks you back and forth on the hospital bed, lips pressed against your forehead. His eyelids are closed and tears drip from them, the flat of his thumb caresses the back of your cold hand, arms wrapped around you as if it would warm your lifeless, cold body, even by the slightest.

╰┈⪼ ୨ Albert had baked your favourite dessert after a long time since you'd been diagnosed with a chronic illness. He wanted to share it with you. ୧

You had been spending your final days in the hospital. Medical tubes held your frail existence, oscillating between life's edge and the promise of tomorrow.

Despite your preparations and promises to be strong, a solitary tear betrayed your resolve. Did you regret sending him away for your favorite dessert, knowing death was inching closer? No. No, you didn't. Did you? It was your plan in the first place, to spare him from witnessing your departure from this mortal realm.

It was a nice life, wasn't it?

“It was.” You whisper, smiling softly to yourself.

Your senses grow gentle and distant, as if caressed by a gentle breeze on a summer evening and the world around you recedes, becoming acutely aware of the gentle rise and fall of your breath. You release the weight of existence, surrendering to the gentle pull of the unknown.

“Darling! So very sorry I'm late, I was-” He peaks his head into the hospital room, your favourite dessert in a bag he holds. He stiffens, the silence of the room jarring. He'd half expected you to nag him about being so late. “Darling?”

The sight of you, so silent and unmoving makes his heart fall to the ground. The bag falls to the floor. He feels his stomach churn as he makes his way to you, tiptoeing to you quietly as if a noise too loud would wake you - but perhaps, that was all he wanted. To wake you up once more. Tears stream down his face, feeling his heart break inside of his chest.

“I'd baked for two.” He whispers to your motionless body, stroking your hair softly. A small, soft whimper makes it's way past his lips when he leans down to press his lips against the tip of your nose, bidding you goodbye.

“Rest now, my beloved.” He speaks softly, slowly running his palm over your eyelids and closing them for you. Atleast now you wouldn't be in constant pain.

╰┈⪼ ୨ Louis didn't want it this to end - certainly not this way. He was sorry and he wanted to apologize to you. ୧

Louis's ears were ringing loudly - the noises in his head almost too blaring, too violent, completely blocking out the abrasive shouts of those around him.

His breath was rapid, irregular and heavy as he pushed everyone out of his way to get to you. All kinds of thoughts flooded through his mind. He'd gotten too angry, too caught up in the moment that he ended up lashing out at you. He knew you were having problems with everything, with yourself. He should have understood. He should have. If only he didn't lash out at you, if only he had noticed these signs earlier - the constant anxiety, the inability to get out of bed, to eat, to take care of yourself..

An officer from the Scotland yard stops him, trying to block him from getting to you. “Sir, please! You can't go past these police lines anymore.”

He pushes past the police officer, too focused on locating you. When he finally finds your body on the ground, chalk outlining your body - he can only feel his heart break inside of his chest to see you in such a state.

“(Name)..!” He gasps, voice weak and barely audible. “No..” His voice cracks as he staggers his way to you, police officers still trying to stop him. He kneels infront of your unmoving body, holding you into his arms.

“Please..” Louis pleads, burying his face into your hair. “You can't..- you can't leave me. Please, (Name). I'm sorry..”

“Wake up, please. (Name)..” He looks down at your lifeless body. "Wake up." He whispers to you, the sound of his wails of grief echoing throughout the atmosphere. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up." He pleads to every single deity out there, hoping one of those ‘wake up's’ would wake you up and bring you back to him.

He's shaking all over, tears flooding his eyes and making it's way down his face. “Scream at me, hit me, be angry. Hate me all you want. Please, just wake up.”

╰┈⪼ ୨ How would Zack know that his very work of line, the one he swore to use to make a safer world for you, would wound up being the reason for him to lose you? ୧

Surrounded by constant threats and corruption, in and out of the CID - that's what it meant to be Zack's significant other. And yet, the both of you didn't mind - as long as you two were by each other's side, everything was alright.

That was the case.. until now. He was always a work oriented man, he'd never put his emotions over his duties.

And yet, his emotions overwhelmed him greatly. You were his light - and now with you gone, he felt himself loose a part of him.

Zack stood at the scene, his eyes fixated on the lifeless body of his lover being carefully placed on the stretcher. The blaring ambulance sirens echoed in the background, their piercing wails mingling with the chaotic thoughts racing through his mind. His hand feebly grasped onto your own a little too longer as you're carried away, watching you with a grief stricken gaze.

Lestrade, his trusted colleague, approached him cautiously with concern etched on his face. "Zack, I'm.. so very sorry for what happened." he said softly, his voice barely audible over the clamor around them. "We'll find the person responsible for this. I promise you."

Zack blinks, a tear dripping down his face. His chest tightened, a mixture of grief and anger overwhelming him. He clenched his fists, his jaw set in determination. "I won't rest until I find the bastard who did this." he replied, his voice laced with raw emotion.

“They're going to regret-” his voice breaks. “-what they did to them, what they took from me. ”

He replayed their last moments together, the warmth of your touch, the gentle sound of your laughter. And now, all he was left with was an empty void, a painful absence that threatened to consume him. As the ambulance doors closed, shutting out the sight of his lover's lifeless form, Zack's heart sank further.

Memories of their time together flooded his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what had been stolen from him.

[writingcold]

Hi there!  Welcome to Chapter 6!  If you’ve just joined us, here’s the master list.

This chapter is a little different.  Although we see all of our characters, this chapter is all from Croa’s POV.  

As always, a thank you goes out to @lvnterninthenight @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for your help in this process.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine.  Please do not take it for your own personal use.  I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story.  But it is mine.

Content warning: Fluff.  That’s all I’m going to say because I need to just get this going… Cue your butterflies, though.  Yeah.  One of those Mr. Jacob chapters.

Word count: Approx. 6500 please pardon any errors.

Chapter Six: Dancehalls, Visiting, Drives, Cora POV

     Three weeks of the permanent posting and Cora felt like she had finally reached a point where she understood the full workings of both the mercantile area and the general good sections of the shop.  Renee had taken the time to give her small bits to improve and together they seemed to have found a rhythm that worked out better for the both of them.  She was also finally breaking through the ice with her counterpart, finding ways to actually engage with Renee in areas outside of the business.

     Her interactions with Jacob had become sparse.  He seemed to be absent for days, typically with Daniel.  She had been to supper with Samuel, Susannah and Molly where they did not make much mention of the two men at all.  When Cora did see him, it was brief with only a shared smile.

     Without Junie in the cottage, Cora had assumed all of her sister's chores that Matthew could not do during the day.  It extended her evening considerably to the point her mother expressed for her to quit the shop to care for Georgie and the house chores.  Cora scoffed at the notion, saying that would never happen, ensuring another argument that lasted a few days in the end.

     Junie had become a ghost.  Cora would inquire Mr. Archer about her on Sundays, to which he would say one of the children was ill and she remained home to care for them.  She tried to walk to the banker’s home after shop close, but was told that Mr. and Mrs. Archer were unavailable, even for family.  The loss she felt for her sister was difficult, leaving her to feel bruised.

     Friday found her sweeping the floors while Renee dusted the front displays when Mr. Kiszka strolled out to close the register.  His face seemed troubled and he did not speak as normal.  Renee was first to put away her apron and voice her leave.  Cora hung up her apron after she finished watching as he walked back to his office.  It was like the man was in a fog of thought.

     Walking from the shop, she debated trying to drop in on Junie once more or just to head for home.  Home would mean more work and probably another argument with her mother over her being in town.  She decided her heart could not handle the rejection from Junie’s home again.  Turning the corner, Samuel and Daniel were waiting, erasing all tracks of her internal debate.

     “Hello, doll,”  Sam greeted, his hat tipped way back on his head to allow a curtain of hair to fall against the side of his face.

     “Hi, fellas,”  she said, looking around to see if the ladies were with them.  “Where are your better halves?”

     Daniel smiled wide.  “Actually, we have an invitation for you from them.  They would like you to join us for supper and dancing tomorrow night.”

     She felt the corners of her mouth turn down.  “I don’t know.  Supper sounds lovely, but I have nothing to wear for dancing…”

     “Molly’s already got something waiting for you,”  Daniel cooed, his smile huge.

     “But it’ll be late - I can’t ask that you drive all the way out -”

     “Nope - Susannah has a spare room for you to stay in,”  Samuel said, matching the other man’s grin.

     “Oh, and you can walk to church with us and be with your family for services,”  Daniel finished with a satisfied nod.  

     “Did Molly give you a script to follow?”  Cora asked with a huff.

     “Maybe,”  Samuel said, a look of relief in his face.  “Come on, Cora.  Let us take you out - really out.”

     “I - uh-”  she shuffled a bit, but the idea of dancing with the new friends made her heart trip a few times.  “It sounds like fun.”

      Saturday morning at the shop opening, Mr. Kiszka was still heavy with thought.  She took a moment to realize that it was a concern that was troubling his dark eyes.  Cora returned the smile as he moved wordlessly to his office.  The day was a fast one.  She could scarcely take a moment to realize that the lunch break and the afternoon had skated by when the boss strolled back out of the office, the same distance etched in his eyes.  

     Cora wondered if there was a correlation between Mr. Kiszka’s muted tone and Jacob’s absence for the previous four days.  She took her wages with a nod and watched as he closed up the register.  

     “I hear that you are out on the night with Samuel, Daniel and the girls,”  he said as she reached for her personal items.

     She grinned.  “I aim to break toes, sir.”

     After a pause, his eyes drifted closed.  The air began to fill with a belly laugh that she was sure he needed.  “Be sure to have fun doing just that, lovely.  Good evening.”

     She held onto Daniel’s arm as they walked to the diner to sup.  Susannah and Molly were already there, ordered and waiting.  Their table was the loudest in the joint, but  Cora could feel the excitement for the dancehall prickling under her skin.  The heat of the happiness that touched her spread across her frame and discarded the eldest brother’s brooding of the past days.  After supper, they strolled across the town, parting so that the ladies could retreat to dress for an evening of dancing.

     The dress was a rich rose color with sheer cap sleeves and a tulle fringe at the end of the skirt that was fluffy, but held the same polka-dot print as the soft fabric that crossed her chest.  The torso was decorated with embroidered streams of roses and scrolled stem design on that same sheer layered tulle fabric that provided a solid effect, rather than the see through on the sleeves.  Cora stepped out of Molly’s room feeling like she was going to throw up from the frivolous and much more fancy feel of anything she had ever worn before.  She felt antsy as she planted her eyes on the floor, nervous that this dress would be too much for her.

     She was met with soft gasps and coos and the feel of Susannah and Molly’s hands on her wrists.  Cora looked up, knowing that her cheeks were probably the same color that currently resided in the garment.   

     “Oh baby girl,”  Molly sighed, eyes tracing across the lines of the dress.  “It’s like this one was made just for you.”

     Susannah was biting her lip to contain her smile a bit.  “May I do your hair?  I have something I want to try.”

     “I wish I could cut it,”  Cora admitted as she let herself be guided to a chair.  “I love the way Molly’s hair curls on her neck.”

     “Although that would be something on you,”  Molly started, her hand instantly against the finger waves on her neck, “There’s something to be said about…  Holy crow - how long is that hair, doll!”

     Cora blushed as the ends of her hair brushed against her bottom in soft waves.  Susannah disappeared only to return with an armful of stuff that made Cora feel a bit nervous.  “Josephine Baker uses this herself.  I saw her down in Chicago one time.  Lord, that mama is beautiful.”

     Tugging, pulling, stretching, smoothing, it seemed like it was an hour that Susannah took twisting and manipulating Cora’s locks into place.  When finished, she had a shine and waves against her scalp on the top, while her thick braids were coiled back and forth and around each other in an intricate, flat bun with about a thousand pins holding it in place.  She looked in the mirror and had to put it down for a moment.  When she looked back, she felt her mouth stretch in a broad grin.

     “I look like one of those ladies in the picture show,”  she said, in awe over Susannah’s work.

     “Yeah, yeah.  Let’s get outta here, kittens,”  Susannah remarked, but Cora could see the twinge of satisfaction flash in the woman’s eyes.  “The boys will be waiting.”

     Molly offered her a soft, cream colored wrap that was strewn with roses to pull over her shoulders as they made for the door.  They took their time, arm in arm, laughing about the evening and scaring Cora over what to expect.  By the time they reached the street corner that would lead them to the dancehall, the three were giggling over who was going to have to survive mashed toes as Cora learned to dance.  

     Danny was outside waiting, his face full of light as he greeted the three fast friends.  Cora was unsure of what to expect when she walked inside, holding tight to Susannah’s hand, but it certainly was not anything she was prepared for.  The hall was long and thin with tables running the length of both walls.  There was a small stage at the far end where a band was set up, its horns were just blaring while a man on the piano was nearly dancing across the bench he was sitting upon as he played.  Beside the stage was a soda fountain that spanned the corner with stools for patrons to sit and wait for the soda jerks to bounce to their demands.  The floor was all wide planks of rich dark woods and the walls were richly painted ochres, swirled with dark navy.  

      “Come on, baby girl,”  Susannah crowed, taking her by the hand and leading her out while Molly took their purses to a table manned by Samuel.

      Cora tried not to gasp as the woman grabbed hold of her hand and placed her own hand on the middle of her back.  She listened to the instruction, eyes turned down so as to watch their feet as they moved.  There was no notion of self-consciousness as Susannah guided her across the floor, around others who were enjoying themselves.  

      “It’s basically just walking together,”  she explained.  “And you can tell where I am leading you by the way I move my hand on your back, even though you are going backwards the entire time, I may turn you, shift you or even spin.”

     Cora turned her eyes up to look directly into Susannah’s light blue eyes.  She smiled as she pulled Cora in closer, and they started to move in an earnest foxtrot.  They were giggling within a few minutes when Cora realized she had not, indeed, murdered her friend’s feet.

     Molly appeared with an elegant tap on Susannah’s shoulder.  “Time for a waltz,”  she declared.

     Cora gritted her teeth.  “Molly, I’m not-”

     “Come on, dolly.  You’re foxtrot is all berries; time for something that will really make you the cat’s meow,”  she cackled as she brought her hands up and around Cora’s shoulder and into her hand.  “And it’s not like I’m trying to teach you any of those snappy jazz numbers.  I like my feet just fine.

     “This is just an easy 1-2-3, repeat but backwards,”  her friend said, nodding for her to look down at their feet.  “You shuffle, don’t lift your feet, and stay in line with my own toes.”

     “How am I supposed…”

     Molly continued to count the 1-2-3, but Cora felt the numbers in the music, matching it quite quickly.  Her friend breathed a laugh as they began to move in earnest.  It was more restrained, and required a little more grace than the foxtrot.  The tone of the music was similar but felt tighter.  She only misstepped a few times, each time yanking her foot back before she munched the woman’s toes.  

     “Just like the foxtrot, I can lead you by the way my hand presses against your back.  I can make it more complex if I…”

     She turned quickly, adding in a swirl that made both of their skirts flare out in a pretty way.  Cora blushed as her friend wiggled her eyebrows at her and yanked her closer until she was flush against her.  They turned and shuffled and turned and shuffled.  The hall was getting busier.  They laughed as Cora continued to struggle, but was slowly getting the dance.

     Sam grew brave and they foxtrotted across the floor to a number that sent her heart just fluttering.  His lanky frame was much more solid than she had imagined.  He turned and shifted in a more complex manner than Susannah had, that left her imagining that the steadies would be beautiful as they moved together in harmony.  Before she knew it, she was sitting at the table, sipping on tea watching the two couples move together through the crowd.  Their faces were warmed with conversation and sweet secrets that they shared.  

     “Come on, baby,”  a man said to her, holding his hand out.  “Let me show you how to really dance.”

     Looking into his sharp features Cora was hesitant to try her new skill with a stranger.  “Thank you, but no.”

     “Ah come on, sweetheart.  Don’t be like that,”  he pressed.  She watched as he leaned down and tried to take her hand into his.  “If you can dance with them two you can dance with a man.”

     Her eyes narrowed as she looked past him.  Her friends had no idea what was going on at their table.  They would not be able to assist her, not that Cora had any inclination on how to keep this man from forcing her out there.  Instead, she took a deep breath in.

     “Sir, I said no, thank you.  I am happy to wait for my friends,”  she said without looking at him again.

     His hand locked around her wrist and started to tug.  “And I said, if you’re good enough to dance with whores, you’re good enough to dance with me.”

     He yanked on her arm, getting her to stand up.  Cora yelped out, but yanked back trying to not allow him to pull her out any further.

     “Pardon me,”  Jacob’s smooth voice broke in, instantly capturing her attention, as well as the man’s.  “I’d appreciate you taking your mitt off the lady.”

     “Mr. Kiszka,”  the man said with a nod.  “Just lookin’ to dance this little one.”

     “I believe the lady said no,”  Jacob remarked, moving himself between Cora and the offending man.  “She said she was waiting for her friends - that includes me.  So, I’ll assume there will be no more confusion.”

     “Yes, sir,”  the man said as he was terribly antsy to get away.

     Cora righted herself, smoothing her dress down as Jacob stood in front of her.  He was wearing black pressed pants with a black suit coat, dark gray, paisley embossed vest and a stark white dress shirt with a black tie.  His hair was styled back, allowing that subtle wave to shine in the lowlights of the dancehall.  He turned to look at her, his eyes full of concern.

     He appeared like he was about to speak, but his mouth did not produce words.  His eyes wandered across her much in the same fashion that her own were taking him in.  Jacob was handsome, but at that moment, he did not seem like he was part of the world.  His hand reached out, looping his index finger with hers.

     He tugged and began to walk backwards towards the open floor.  Cora could not look away as he brought his hand up, folding it around hers in a firm hold.  His other hand slid across her shoulder, landing in between her shoulder blades.

     “I apologize ahead of time,”  she whispered.  “I’ve only just learned this.”

     She slid her hand up his arm letting it come to rest on his bicep.  He pulled her in until her frame kissed his own.  She released a soft breath as he paused, looking directly into her eyes.  Everything fell away.  It was just Jacob and Cora and the music.  She did not realize that they were moving across the floor.  Her whole focus was on his eyes as they looked upon her steadily and his mouth as she hoped for a few words to soothe her mind.  Instead, he brought his face closer, to the point where she could feel him breathing against the side of her cheek.  She breathed him in, all tobacco and mahogany.  

     Cora felt as he slid his hand lower to fall just below her shoulder blades as if to bring her in even closer.  “I almost thought that you were not real,”  he whispered.  

     “I don’t understand,”  she whispered back.

     “I couldn’t see the pretty that you bring to me in my days,”  he said, eyes on her mouth.  “But then, it’s just this…”

     He pulled her hand with his so as to drag a fingertip down her jaw line before returning it to form.  His other hand ghosted down the shallow curve of her side, before once again it was also returned to form.  Cora felt her breath escape her in a slow, torturous wave not to be returned to form until his eyes met hers once more.

     “This is the beauty that you keep hidden,”  he finished.

     Her lips parted as she absorbed what was being said to her.  “No one has spoken to me like that.”

     His gaze fell to her mouth as his brows pinched with thought.  She heard him inhale softly, cuing her own breath as he squeezed her against his body even closer.

     “I've never been anyone's first... I'd like to be yours,”  he finally said, lips nearly to her ear, the heat of him dancing on the delicate skin.

     Cora felt her mind freeze at the man’s connotations and how the simple words made her heart burn within her chest.  The rest of the night, she was held, turned, and danced by Jacob.  His eyes were hypnotic while his hand on her back burned a hole in her dress.  They spoke little and always in the polite end of the pool: how her family was, how Matthew would like to see the Earl again, and about his family that was still down south in the state and how he missed them.  He asked about Junie and was dismayed that she had yet to see her sister since the wedding.

     They left the dancehall after the crowd thinned considerably.  The laughter they shared rang out in the night as they walked towards the garage.  Jacob walked close to her, his finger lopped with her own like a tether.  He held her back as the couples moved towards the Kissel.

     “This is where I have to leave you,”  he said with a nod.  “Did you have fun tonight?”

     She nodded as his face warmed in the moonlight.  “Are you not coming with us?”

     “I will be staying with Joshua,”  Jacob said, looking back at the others.

     “I did not realize he was-”

     He grinned as he took her hand and leaned in to speak only to her against her ear.  “I want you to stay with me tomorrow after church services.  We planned on stopping in on the Archers,”  he said, allowing her to process what he was saying.  

     Cora felt her stomach tighten.  To be given the gift of seeing Junie made her catch her breath as he pressed his cheek to her own.  “Thank you,”  she whispered.  

     The narrow bed that she claimed in Susannah’s was hard but welcoming.  Thoughts of the evening swirled through her brain, keeping her awake but draining her all the same time.  The heat of Jacob against her body sent shivers through her mouth.  She could still smell his skin, feel his touch against her body and it made her think of what more could be like with the man.  How his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered to her made her blush.  She tried to imagine what his kiss would feel like, taste like.  It was the last of the night’s images she conjured as she drifted off into the darkness of her sleep.

     In the morning, Cora was dressed in her church dress and making coffee when Samuel tapped on the door before walking in.  His youthful face was lit with sunshine and his smile was contagious as he offered his arm and a walking partner to church services.  Jacob and Joshua were already in the main hall while Daniel was waiting outside for them.  Rosemary and the boys were sitting in their typical row.  Cora waved at Georgie who beamed at her as Jacob moved towards her.  His warmth invaded her skin despite the distance between them.  She smiled in her greeting and was rewarded by him looping his index finger with hers with a little squeeze before following Josh and the others to his waiting seats.  

     Services were long.  Pastor Butterman was spending an inordinate amount of time about the importance of community support of their young people - the support of young marriages.  Blowing out her cheeks, she settled into another sermon that she largely ignored.  After services, Jacob was the first to catch them before leaving. 

     “I will ensure that she returns home safe, Mrs. Janas,”  Jacob was saying to her mother who was eyeing her skeptically.  “My brothers and I will be making our Sunday rounds, the Archer household included.”

     Cora was watching him as he spoke, his eyes nowhere but on her mother the entire time, his face a vision of calm.  “I would be able to see Junie, Mama,”  she said, drawing her attention away for a moment.  

     “You will have her home before dark, Mr. Kiszka,”  Rosemary said with a firm tone.

     “Yes, of course, ma’am,”  Jacob said as he held his elbow out for Cora to take.

     She smiled and waved at her brothers.  Georgie broke away from Matthew and rushed at her.  She heard Jacob let out a quiet laugh as she picked up the smallest of them and hugged her fiercely.  

     “Sister,”  the little one sighed into her neck.  “Come home.”

     “Going to go see Junebug,”  she said with a smile.

     The boy’s big eyes filled with the heat of his smile.  “I want to see her, too.”

     “Soon, baby,”  Cora soothed, rubbing on his back.  “Go home with Mama and I’ll see you tonight.”

     She set Georgie down and watched as the boy took off across the expanse to reach the Kilbourne wagon.  Mr. Kilbourne looked at her holding onto Jacob with an ill eye.  

     “He really doesn’t…”  he started, realizing that the man was not going to move from the bench of his cart to help her mother into the back.

     Cora watched as he hurried forward before Rosemary could crawl into the wagon.  Instead, he called out to Matthew to wait.  She inhaled sharply as Jacob assisted her mother, followed by each of the siblings into the wagon to leave.  He paused at the side, trading a word with the farmer that was obviously not kind.  Cora swallowed as Kilbourne seemed to pale a bit before stoically snapping to reins.  

       The church was on the north east corner of town.  They walked arm in arm, down the main thoroughfare towards the more affluent southwestern corner that the businessmen of the community had claimed.  They passed the street that would lead them to the bungalows.  Cora looked down the row of tidy homes.  Jacob smiled at her.

     “You like those little places, don’t you?”  he asked simply, patting her hand on his elbow.

     She nodded, but they moved on quickly.  The first house they visited was their own.  Mr. Kiszka walked inside the wide foyer without a glance behind.  Cora felt very small standing on the stoop with Jacob before he led them inside the light maple clad space.  Her entire cottage would fit within the entry and her face burned at the thought.  

     “This is…”  she felt like even her voice was intrusive on the craftsmanship of the space.  “This is lovely.”

      “Just for show, Cora.  It’s still eight squares shoved together, and boxes up on top,”  Jacob said as he watched his twin return with a handful of papers.  “Archer’s are first.  Are you ready?”

      She smiled and nodded as they moved out of the house and walked down the block.  The homes grew a bit more modest but still very polished.  They moved up the manicured walk of a tall white affair with black shutters and door that she had visited many times before only to be turned away.  The breeze kicked up before they reached the front of the home, making the ruffles of her dress swish against her.  The door opened wide, admitting all of them.  Cora caught the lady’s eye who had turned her away many times before and she tightened her hold on Jacob’s elbow.  He made no acknowledgment of the change, but he remained close to her as they moved through to the room just off the wood and plaster clad foyer with a simple staircase that rose up in a sway to the second story.  

     “Miss,”  the housekeeper said politely as the gentlemen seemed to be in residence in the main parlor.  “Please, come with me.”

     Jacob smiled at her with a whispered ‘see you soon’.  Nervously, she followed down the wood paneled hall towards the back of the house.  She could hear a few feminine voices speaking softly, but not her Junie.  The housekeeper’s dour face turned on her before pointing her open hand towards another parlor.  There were three well dressed ladies she had recognized from church, but could not recall their names.  Junie sat nearly in the corner, her face forlorn.

      “Junie?”  Cora called softly, moving towards her in quick steps.

      The girl’s once bright eyes rolled up onto her in surprise.  Her face seemed to have aged considerably in the weeks after the wedding.  Her smile was not as wide and her gaze was guarded as she gained her footing.

      “Is it really you?”  Junie asked as Cora dragged her close in a tight hug.  “Sister?”

      She felt an uncomfortable shift as the ladies stopped talking.  Cora looked into her sister’s tired face, trying to figure out what had happened to her that would make her seem so tattered.

     “Ladies, I do not wish to be rude, but you will excuse us,”  Junie remarked, taking Cora by the hand and leading her out of the room and down the rear hall to the  garden.

     Cora wrapped her arm around her sister as they stood side by side with their backs to the house.

     “I am so glad you are here,”  Junie whispered.   

     “I have missed you terribly,”  Cora said, unable to keep her smile growing huge.  “The boys ask about you everyday.”

     They slowly returned to the point before the wedding, talking back and forth, finding the smiles and the lightness that both missed.  Cora was telling her about Georgie’s plan of bringing her back to the cottage.  She felt herself choking on the laugh as Junie impersonated the boy’s big eyes and hands on her face.

     “I never thought that I would miss that boy like I do,”  Junie remarked, moving closer to the row of hedges.  “And what about Mr. Jacob?”

     Cora grinned.  “He’s the reason I am here today.  We danced the whole night last night and then he told Mama he wanted me to go visiting with him today.”

     “Next he’ll be asking her to date you, I’m sure,”   she said, eyes straying to the windows behind Cora.

     She saw how her sister’s shoulders slumped a bit.  Looking behind, she saw Mr. Archer and Jacob standing at the open glass doors.  Junie took her hand into her own and pulled her close.  

     “I love you, Sister,”  she whispered, holding on tightly as the door opened.

     “I love you, Junebug,”  Cora whispered back, noting that the girl’s body was literally trembling.  “I promise, I will come see you during the week as long as the housekeeper will allow me inside.”

     Mr. Archer’s smile was condescending.  “I apologize, Miss Cora, if there has been confusion.  I was not aware that you had tried to visit.”

     “It’s only been a few times, sir,”  she said, noting that his eyes would not meet her gaze, just like he would not truly look at Junie either.

     “It will not happen again, be assured,”  he remarked with a nod.

     “Cora, are you ready?”  Jacob asked, offering his elbow.

     He held her hand in place as they moved back through the house to the front door.  The brothers had already moved on.  Jacob turned back towards the shop.

     “I have been given a reprieve from visiting with Joshua,”  he said with a grin.  “Would you like to go for a drive with me?”

     “I would like that very much,”  she answered.  “Thank you for helping me to see Junie.”

     “My pleasure,”  he said as they walked back towards the garage.  “Is she well?”

     “Junie was always sickly from little on,”  Cora said, her eyes straying behind them back to the Archer home.  “I never thought I would see her actually look in such a terribly frail fashion.”

     “Perhaps it is just the newness of her marriage,”  Jacob offered kindly.

     “Perhaps.”

     He walked her towards the Kissel, not the Earl.  She paused and he smiled shyly.

     “Samuel is working on the Earl and I’m not allowed to touch her at the moment,”  he said as he opened the door for her.

     It felt strange sitting in the front, but as he slid behind the wheel, it was hypnotic to watch as he shifted the vehicle and moved it along.  They headed east out of town.  His face was relaxed as he drove.  Cora turned her face towards the wind as it kissed at her cheeks and colored her lips.  He reached across the seat, looping his pinky in with hers.  She glanced down at the touch, something that he had repeated through her memory.  Such a simple touch.  A simple conveyance.  She closed her eyes to better feel the grounding effect that it had on her.  

     They drove through winding fields and dense woods that she was sure they would certainly be lost in.  He plowed forward, his eyes ever steady on the road.  They continued on for nearly an hour.  Cora felt drowsy.  Looking at him, she found that Jacob was looking back at her.

      Another fifteen minutes, they arrived in the city of Norway.  Cora had only heard of the town, having never been further than Kingsford.  They stopped at a little cafe that had coffee and sandwiches.  He pulled the chair out for her as she sat.  Jacob took off his hat and set to the side as they waited.  

     “Tell me about what happened to your father,”  he said as they sipped their drinks.

     She smiled sadly.  “Papa liked to think of himself as a gentleman farmer.  His family settled in New York.  Up by Albany.  He was an educated man.  He even taught college for a spell.”

     Jacob set his cup down with a nod.  “What made him leave New York?”

     “Not sure,”  she answered, her eyes watching the plates as the waitress lowered them to the table.  Jacob said a quiet thank you before turning his attention back to her.  “He liked open spaces more than the classroom and city, I guess.  He worked a farm in Pennsylvania before meeting Mother.  They had me before getting the place in Breitung Township - now it’s Kingsford.”

     “Your family has a farm here?”

     She took a small bite of the tomato and cucumber sandwich.  Her heart sank as she negotiated through the rest of the story.  She explained that half of Mr. Kilbourne’s current farm, including the pretty white house they lived near, was actually the Janas farm.  They were doing very well with hay and potatoes.  When her father returned from the war in 1919, he was different.  His mind was different.  Physically he was different.  The family began to struggle and he wound up borrowing from Mr. Kilbourne as the bank would not secure him a loan.  After the Ford plant was built, the bank had gotten picky about loans to farmers.  There were a few bad harvests that really made things a bigger struggle for the family as a whole.  

     “My father never really returned,”  she said quietly.  “He tried.  Mama said he died of being broken over there.  He had injuries in his lungs from something that working in the earth made worse.”

     Jacob reached across the table and touched her hand, running his fingertips over the back before squeezing it as a whole.  

     “Mr. Kilbourne took the house as partial payment of the debt my father incurred, as well as all the land,”  Cora continued, staring at a spot on the table.  “Mother made arrangements for the two of us to work as laborers to finish off the debt.  We moved into the cottage and have been there ever since.”

      A soft curse escaped his mouth.  “How long until the debt is paid?”

     “Well, if I had not gotten that posting in your family’s shop, it would have been about two more years.  But,”  she said, straightening up and feeling proud, “I’ll have it cleared before the end of autumn, certainly before mid-winter.  And I’m hoping that we can move into town after that.”

      “One of those little bungalows, huh?”  he asked with a smile.

      She nodded.  “I’d just be happy with a house that didn’t want to kill us every time the weather turned.”

     He grinned at her from across the table.  They finished their simple meals.  Cora liked how close he walked as they moved back towards the car.  When he opened the door, he paused, catching her hand fully with his own.  Cora’s mouth twitched in a smile as his expression changed.  His eyes traced across hers.  He leaned close, the tip of his nose grazing her cheek.

     “I’d very much like to kiss your mouth, Cora,”  he whispered.

     Her lips parted as her breath escaped her.  His gaze softened as his finger traced down her jaw.  She barely nodded, her nerves stabbing in her torso like lightning.  He skimmed his lips across hers before cupping her cheek and pressing their mouths together.  Panic gripped her as she breathed him in.  Never.  Never had a man kissed her mouth.  Never had a man drawn her bottom lip in between his own lips.  Her heart was thundering as he opened his eyes while still so close to her as if looking through her soul.  She shivered as he withdrew, only to watch as he leaned in once more.  He pressed against her again, his hand dragging down and back on her neck pulling her impossibly closer.  The heat of his body flooded her.  Her mind raced.  Her hands moved across his arms and finally landed on his chest, her fingers finding purchase on the lapels of his coat.  A little hum escaped him as he pulled her bottom lip deeper into his mouth.  She felt the tip of his tongue swipe over it.  Her body wanted more.  Her brain was melting against the stimulation.  He broke their contact only to press once more, this time, repeating with her upper lip, slotting their mouths together sweetly.  

     Cora felt her stomach flutter as he withdrew.  His eyes looked smoky as a grin tugged the corner of his mouth.  He held her hand as he aided her into the car.  Her mind felt like it was drenched in fog.  The emotions toiled within, knowing that there was more she wanted but had no idea how to voice those words to him.  She liked it.  She liked the way he kissed her.  She liked the slow, soft heat of his mouth.  Cora felt her cheeks warm with the thought of it, but did not hide that she was indeed pleased.

     The ride back towards Kingsford did not follow the same path as the one they had taken.  Instead, it was through mostly woods and rolling hills.  Cora was taken by the green and lush beauty.  They reached a spot that was at a crest that Jacob pulled off, but made no move to exit the automobile.  He drew in a heavy breath as his eyes focused on the horizon.  

     “It’s really something during the autumn,”  he said quietly.  “I come up here to think.  Or when I need the escape.”

     “It’s beautiful,”  Cora said, pushing the door open and sliding from the seat before he could make a move.  

     The crunch of stones under her shoes made her smile.  The wind was strong, but it carried the deep woods smell on it in the most delicious manner.  She liked the feel of it against her body, blowing her skirt back out behind her.  She pictured herself looking much like a full sail on the ships out on Lake Superior.  Her hands left her sides as if she could give herself over to the wind.  A hard gust struck her, knocking her back into Jacob.  His hands caught around her waist pulling her frame tight against his own.  A laugh escaped her as he anchored her to the ground.

     “I’m afraid if I let you go.  You’ll fly away,”  he said, making her laugh all the more.  “You’re like one of those finches down there.  All beautiful and full of light.”

     She grinned at his strength and how he held her - not constraining but supporting.  Her eyes traveled down the ravine and found the yellow finches that seemed to be dancing on the wind, singing their own song of wonder.  Trusting that he would not move, she leaned back against him and was rewarded with his arms looping fully around her middle.  

     “I better get you home,”  he whispered against her ear.  “I don’t want your mama angry with me.”

     He took her hand, leading her back to the car.  “Why worry about her?”     “If I want to ask her to court you, I don’t want to give her any reason for her to say no,”  he answered with an honest smile.

    “Court me?  How very old fashioned of you, Jacob.  Can’t we just go out on dates?”  she teased as she climbed back into the Kissel.

     “I need to do this right, Finch,”  he said quietly, touching her cheek before closing the door.

     Her heart stuttered at his touch.  The notion that he was already formulating a softly traditional path made her blush with romantic notions that she and Junie would fawn over months earlier.  Jacob lit a smoke before sliding behind the wheel.   He smiled with a ‘let’s get you home’.  Once through the gears, he looped his fingers through hers, tugging her closer on the seat.  The thoughts from weeks before returned: if given the choice of path to take, she would pick Jacob.  She looked over at him just as he glanced at her.  The way her cheeks heated, she knew her thoughts were her truth.  She would pick him without doubt, without hesitance.  

Pardon my sappy smile.  I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  We’re starting to get into the meat of the story.  Next time, we’ll be reunited with Molly and Susannah.  Last week I was able to pull off two chapters - what do you think - should I try to keep that up?  Let me know in the comments! Thanks

I do have a tag list, it’s right here or you can just let me know you’d like to be added to the list!

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[purplemoonshark]

When I got top surgery, it was in a city 2 hours away from the town I live in. My parents and immediate family were supportive. I thought I planned out my recovery adequately- I had the bandages and moisturizers, the pillows and gentle soaps, and I was living with my parents and younger siblings, so there would be no shortage of people to help me around the house. My mother drove me there, and then back into town. We passed my pharmacy and she said "I'm too tired to pick up your pain meds right now. I'll just get them tomorrow." I was tired. I said okay. My family then refused to get my pain meds for 3+ days (it became a blur because of the pain). I had to take care of myself and pushed far past the limits set for me by my surgeon. My parents only got my medication when I developed a fever of 103 F. A point at which my post op instructions said I should've been in the hospital, but they didn't want to take me. So they got my meds instead. I don't know if this was on purpose. I think my folks are just very mentally ill and prioritized their own emotional pain for seeing me in that state over actually helping me. My fever went down. Physically, I healed. I kind of went (pardon my language) nuts for the next year. It was like my brain broke and all my triggers went off at once. My mind didn't work right in a way that I have never experienced before or since. I felt like a burnt, frayed nerve-- like I was raw, with no skin-- like a live wire, constantly zapping. It's so hard to describe that feeling; there are no words for it. I almost ended my life.

There's more to it than that. But it is painful to even talk about. I just wanted to get some of it off my mind somewhere. I suppose I'm trying to figure out how to explain my trauma the next time I get a therapist. And also say, please pick up your meds and explain how very incapacitated you will be to your caregivers before you have surgery. I feel, genuinely, that I was tortured.

[stargazer-sims]

Fiscal year-end is HELL

I feel like I haven't accomplished much of anything this month, unless you count stuff for my IRL job. But, the official fiscal year-end is tomorrow, and we are DONE. (or at least I am... my boss is behind because he was ill with covid).

But anyway...

Re: Sims stuff - If I can gather up the motivation to do screenshots, I will have not one, but two Journal Entries this weekend. Well, it's actually parts 3 and 4 of entry #49, but you know. #50 and #51 are both partially written as well, so hopefully April will look a bit more productive than March did in terms of output.

Currently, Victor and Yuri (& supporting cast) are the characters front-and-center in my brain. They are demanding all the attention, so I'm just going to apologize in advance if you see a lot of random photo shoots and/or gameplays in the Willow Creek Haunted House. The Mt. Komorebi portion of their story is so close to being done, and I want to tie up the majority of the loose ends and get on to the lovely epilogue I have planned for them. (And then on to Willow Creek, of course). But, while I write, which I'm sure you've all realized by now that I do very slowly, I'll still be playing with them in their haunted house in my casual save.

ALSO... I'm dying to start Seiji & Sachiko's story... pardon the pun. Unfortunately, I don't think I can do it justice. It's absolutely epic in my head, and I think it'll just suck if I try to bring it to life here.

Meanwhile, just in case anyone thinks I abandoned it, I'm still planning on loosely telling the story of Sugar Valentine and their entourage, because that's been fun and the writing has been minimal. I'm going to let Nikolai and Anya have their real lives back too, because as funny as it was to see them as parents, I actually dislike infants more and more the longer I play with them. They're still cute, but as a gameplay point in Sims 4, they're annoying. Plus, I have the milestone glitch, so it feels kind of pointless if my infants can't advance.

At some point, I will return to Au Ciel Étoilé. I lost momentum somewhere along the way, but hopefully I'll get it back soon.

...and I'm back on my CC-making shit. I may have accidentally started a Part Two of the never-ending shirts. Oops.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

The Beginning Chapter 4

Summary: Those with a uterus have it hard in modern society, pre or post quirk. It’s even harder in a post-quirk society, however. Especially when the person in question has the ability to have a child who’s quirk is just like or stronger than the other parent’s. For a girl like Izumi? It only takes one nurse to diverge her path from what destiny wrote. Now, forced to make the borderline unethical work to protect her, the choices she makes will mean everything.

Warning Tags: Sexism, Quirkless discrimination, HPSC is SHADY as hell, Quirk marriages, arranged marraiges

ON AO3

Part 1 of Diverging Paths (AKA: Betrothal Verse Remix)

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 The day for the meetings seemed to approach too quickly, yet Izumi found herself agonizing over how long it took for the day to arrive. She felt nervous yet too excited at the same time. Her mother felt the same, given the constant rechecks of her list of things to interrogate the families about. 

 Kacchan and his friends backed off her a bit, or more so his friends did, which caused Kacchan also to back off slightly because they would mutter about him being a brat every time he tried to bother Izumi. It was nice to go to school without them constantly harassing her. But even the calm at school barely distracted her from her nerves. People noticed them, eventually leading to a confrontation with Kacchan.

 “Why the hell are you so jittery, Deku?” he demanded of the girl the day before the meetings, right after classes let out. She paused in packing away her books in her bag.

 “Pardon?” she asked, the rest of the class, including the teacher, glancing over.

 “All this week, you’ve been more of a freak than normal. So what’s going on?” Kacchan asked with a sneer.

 “I have the meetings with some of the people who submitted offers for my hand in marriage tomorrow,” Izumi admitted after a moment. She waved a hand. “It’s nerve-wracking.” 

 “Why the hell are you meeting them?” Kacchan asked, looking surprised. A few others did, too, trading wide-eyed looks. Some girls, though, snorted and rolled their eyes.

 “He didn’t actually think….”

 “Who knows what goes through his head.” Izumi ignored the whispers as she frowned at her old friend.

 “Because I need to get to know them? I have a whole year before choosing whom I want to marry after this.” Izumi frowned at him. “Why is it so weird I’m meeting them?” Kacchan looked as lost as Izumi felt while people snorted around them. 

 “She’s oblivious, and so is he.” a girl named Hibari whispered to her friend. She then turned back to the two people talking. “Hey, Midoriya, I see your mom outside.” the girl nodded to the window, and Izumi yelped before shoving her things into her bag and running off. She jogged down the halls and out to the yard where her mother was waiting with Haruno. A last-minute strategy meeting where Haruno promised she would kick out anyone causing trouble. The woman also imparted bad news about one of the people she was supposed to be meeting.

 “The Commission sent word that Takami Keigo is ill and will not be at the meeting. However, they sent ahead some information and an email address for you to message him over the next year.” Haruno handed the mother and daughter a file. Inko opened it to glance at it, pausing to grab a photo to pass to Izumi, who looked at the picture. A blonde kid with a bandage on his face looked back, large red wings coming from his back. He looked about her age, and his grin looked hesitant. 

 “He looks like Hawks! He’s an intern with Skyfall!” Izumi said eagerly. “Maybe he’s a cousin or a brother!” 

 “Possibly. The Commission requested that most of the information be withheld for protection, which makes sense given Hawks is part of their programs.” Haruno informed them. She continued by explaining how the next day would go. “We will meet with the Todoroki family, then the Iida family, before a quick break. Following that, we will meet the Shinsou, Tokoyami and Monoma families. As per the agreement, you will then have about a year to send emails to them or gifts. No physical meeting is allowed in order to avoid any sort of foul play.” Haruno handed more files to Inko, who gave Izumi the pictures as she spoke.

 Todoroki Shouto was slightly pale, with chimerism in his looks. One side of his hair was white and the other red, perfectly parted. Izumi wondered if it was his choice or a fashion statement by his father; it was a striking image. But her eyes were caught by a significant mark on the boy’s face—an oddly perfect circular red spot around his left eye, which was blue compared to his grey right. The mark could be a birthmark, but it reminded Izumi too much of a burn. A Quirk accident, probably. 

 Iida Tenya looked like his brother, though he wore glasses and possessed a slightly squarer jaw. He seemed very proper, and the expression on his face made Izumi think he was trying to hold as still as possible. Comparing it to Shinsou Hitoshi, Iida looked very put together. Shinsou possessed deep bags under his eyes, along with wild purple hair. He looked tired, more tired than Izumi could ever understand. 

 Tokoyami Fumikage’s picture showed a boy with a bird’s head and a shadow hanging over his shoulder. Izumi couldn’t tell anything about him, but he looked serious in the picture, more than Monoma Neito with the smirk on the blonde’s face. Monoma had perfectly styled hair and looked ready to waltz off a runway. He was a little too plastic, but he didn’t seem too bad.

 Izumi knew her mom would hand over the other files later, so she just focused on the faces of her potential husbands, the ball of nerves in her stomach starting to grow. 

 What would the next day bring when she met them?

-0-

 The first meeting took six hours of arguing and arranging to get. Izumi didn’t understand why it seemed so important to choose who went first, but according to Haruno and Inko, it did. The explanation given boiled down to not wanting to insult anyone too rich. Izumi just sighed and went along with the entire thing.

 Sitting in the tea house at nine in the morning, Izumi tried not to fidget. Her mom had slipped her a fidget toy to hide in her lap, but it did nothing to calm Izumi. She was about to meet Endeavour. ENDEAVOUR. The number two hero.

 Who would be calm in that situation?

 When the door opened, revealing the tall man, Izumi squeaked. She couldn’t help it, the noise slipping out of her mouth as she stood up, stumbling a bit. Inko steadied her as Endeavour stepped inside, followed by his son. 

 Shouto looked bored, or, perhaps, the word would be stoic. Also, maybe a bit annoyed, as he kept giving his dad weird looks. Endeavour kept his fire beard on even while in a suit. That was relatively cool, though honestly, it seemed extra to Izumi. Wouldn’t he want to keep his head down? Her dad told her about his old girlfriend who’d been some singer in America who would change her appearance so she wouldn’t get recognized. So, like, why was Endeavour-

 “Izumi,” Inko murmured. “You’re narrating your thoughts and descending into mumbling.” Izumi’s face felt hot as she looked at the ground.

 Oops.

 “Well then,” Haruno murmured, looking between the two families. “This is starting splendidly.” 

 After the very embarrassing start, the rest of the meeting went okay. Shouto seemed amused by Izumi, a little less bored than before. It made Izumi relax more, and she paid attention to the conversation better. 

 “My daughter is the one who will be deciding whom she wishes to marry,” Inko said in response to a comment Izumi missed. “She has an entire list and wishes to get to know her potential husband better before choosing.”

 “And you trust your daughter with this?” Endeavour asked. Izumi frowned as Inko hummed loudly.

 “It’s her life. My own arranged marriage ruined my friendship with my husband, and it didn’t even save our companies like our parents wanted,” Inko sipped her tea. Haruno looked like she wanted to start crying but kept her mouth shut. “She’s smart as well. I’ve never known anyone who can break down Quirks as fast as her.” 

 “Indeed?” Endeavour looked at Izumi. “My son has a hot and cold Quirk, being able to produce ice from one side of his body and fire from the other. What are your thoughts on that?”

 “Oh wow, that’s cool,” Izumi said, fidgeting with her toy again. “Is… no, wait. You have a fire Quirk, and your wife probably had an ice one. That’s lucky your kids lived. Usually, those Quirks are pretty incompatible. Oh, wait, no, I… never mind that. Rude, sorry.” Izumi shook her head. “If it comes from each side, it probably is a case of chimerism because otherwise, he could use his Quirk fully… and his hair would be pink. Have you drawn the blood to test for it? I heard that sometimes DNA is weird in Chimerism. Could it lead to health problems… yeah it could, maybe.” Izumi hummed. “I wonder if you can make water instead of just… oh wait wait!” Izumi dropped the toy and put her hands on the table that separated her from the two Todoroki men, leaning forward to stare Shouto straight in the eye. He leaned back slightly. “Can you produce water?”

 “I’ve never tried.” He said slowly.

 “Well, tr-” Izumi got interrupted by a cough from her mom. The girl winced. “Uhh, try later. It’s possible you’re not actually producing flame or water but manipulating the oxygen in the air.” She sat down, being handed back the toy from her mother.

 “I will,” Shouto said calmly. “Shall we exchange emails then?” Izumi nodded, face still warm.

 “Do you wish to go into analysis?” Endeavour asked Izumi, looking very interested even as he eyed his son curiously. 

 “I want to be a hero,” Izumi said in reply. She pushed her shoulders back. “I might be Quirkless, but I can do it. I know I can.” Endeavour didn’t look like he agreed, but he nodded anyway. “Besides, being a hero can also just mean helping people. Which is why… I chose you guys. You donate to charities; you help people. I read about the domestic violence charity you donate to, and… yeah.” Izumi swallowed, missing Shouto’s twisted lips.

 “Well if you choose Shouto, then you’ll be able to train,” Endeavour said casually. Izumi couldn’t help her grin, bouncing slightly in her seat. That would be pretty cool. Though the look Shouto was giving his dad was weird.

 The rest of the meeting devolved into discussing the plan for the following year. They would keep in touch over emails, and a month after Izumi’s birthday, she would choose. No in-person meetings would take place until then. Birthday gifts would be allowed only if a certain amount wasn’t passed.

 Frankly, all of it was pretty simple stuff, and Izumi tuned it out to study Shouto, who seemed resigned to everything. He didn’t talk too much and seemed to look at his dad angrily from time to time. Why? Why was he looking at him like that?

 Even as the meeting ended, it puzzled her, and Izumi hurried to the bathroom quickly after drinking three cups of tea in an hour. 

 Why didn’t Shouto seem to like his dad too much? Did he not want to get married? Izumi could understand that. But… did Endeavour not care then?

 It was worrying, but Izumi had only ten minutes before the next meeting. She didn’t have time to think about it more. 

-0-

The day's second meeting took place between the two Midoriyas and the four Iidas. Iida Kin and Iida Tomomi were recently retired heroes, Kin having been the hero Fast Jet and Tomomi having the title Sonic Burst. Their hero agency, IidaTen, had been run by Tomomi’s family since heroics started. Izumi knew from the rumours that some issue had Tomomi stepping down from his position as head of the agency to allow his eldest son Tensei to take over. Kin had retired fully, though she worked with the charities they had started.

 Meeting them caused the same squeak from Izumi as Endeavour did, something they seemed charmed by. But, luckily, no word vomit.

 Tenya seemed like a good guy, though he was really stiff. He glanced up at his brother and seemed pleased whenever Ingenium gave him a grin. He was also painfully awkward, though.

 “I did not mean it like that!” Tenya’s red face made Izumi fight a grin.

 “I’m not offended,” Izumi said, dismissing his comment. “I’ve heard worse.”

 “What?” Ingenium asked, having been giving his brother a look for the comment on Quirkless people. 

 “Kids are mean. My old friend Kacchan says worse to me all the time.” Izumi’s hand drifted to her pocket where she kept the friendship bracelet, having brought it with her to try and feel as if someone was on her side other than her mom, remembering the times as a child. Or at least younger than she was when she had her best friend.

 “Doesn’t sound like a friend to me,” Ingenium muttered. Izumi shrugged. 

 “I know a lot will be against me as a Quirkless person. More so as a girl.” Izumi wrinkled her nose. “Pass on Quirks is important, and I can pass them on strong. I know people will be against me. I just won’t back down. I’ll help people no matter what.” 

 “Man, kid, Hizashi is going to love you,” Ingenium chuckled. Izumi looked at him in confusion as the two adult Iidas laughed.

 “So, why did you choose us?” Kin asked the young girl.

 “I want to help people, be a hero. You guys work with charities and even run a few.” Izumi shrugged. “I made a long list.”

 “Smart,” Tomomi said with a nod. “Do you want to be a pro-hero as well?”

 “Yes.” Izumi admitted. “It’s not illegal, and they got rid of the rules about needing a Quirk at UA to get into the course.”

 “Slap a jetpack on, and she’s no different than Skyfall,” Ingenium mused. “Other than she can’t manipulate air.”

 “Skyfall can manipulate the air currents to fly faster, though,” Izumi protested.

 “But not that well,” Tenya instantly said. “It gives an edge but not that much of one, right?”

 “Well yeah, a .5 in speed, but often that can be the difference,” Izumi said instantly. “Like with Best Jeanist when he went up against Fabric Master. He can affect thread a single second faster than the Master could.”

 “I suppose.” Tenya frowned. “I didn’t see that one.”

 “I only like saw some videos of it,” Izumi said. “I did see the fight with Endeavour and Sea Beast, which totally proved a point I had against Kacchan when he was talking about me not being able to go against someone stronger.”

 “The guy who could control the entire ocean?!” Ingenium asked. “How did you see that!?” 

 “My father came to visit, and he likes Quirks, too,” Izumi said. “So we were in Tokyo looking for fights, and we found it. We sat on a roof and watched the whole thing. And again, Endeavour, by himself, beat Sea Beast. While having fire powers.”

 “I saw videos of that one,” Tenya said. “It was fascinating to see him drying out all of the water while going hand to hand with Sea Beast.”

 “The fish slapping him is still in, like, the top hundreds for used gifs, too,” Izumi said in amusement. Tenya snorted, then went red.

 The adults just laughed. The rest of the meeting progressed alright, with the same agreements being made. When the Iida family left, Izumi had Tenya’s email and an idea to contact him about Present Mic’s latest fight. It would be pretty cool, she felt.

-0-

  The meeting with the Monoma duo, Neito and his mother, Monoma Akane, dissolved into a loud debate on Quirks within five minutes after a comment about the ranking system.

 “No!” Izumi said, pointing at the boy. “It’s impossible for Kamui Woods to rise higher than like seventh rank!”

 “Why?” Neito demanded. “He has the adaptable skill-”

 “Yes, but he’s just not good with it!” Izumi said. “Look at the latest fight; he totally fumbled that save.”

 “True,” Neito frowned. “He could have created more branches going off of the existing ones like a net.”

 “Exactly!” Izumi nodded. “He won’t get far with just using his branches as he is now! I don’t doubt he’ll break the top ten, but I doubt he’ll rise further there.”

 “The top three heroes do have the most adaptable skill with their Quirks,” Neito nodded thoughtfully as their mothers exchanged confused glances, a similarity between them both, given their children were talking of concepts that were not in their own understanding. “Super strength is probably the most versatile Quirk possible, barring my own. Control over fire cannot be underestimated either with how fire works and how Endeavour has learned to manipulate it.”

 “And Best Jeanist can use thread everyone carries on their person and can manipulate anything someone wears,” Izumi nodded. “Compare it to Ryukyu. She can turn into a DRAGON. But due to the constraints of her Quirk….”

 “She will not rise higher than rank five at the most due to the Quirk being useful only in combat and as a shock factor.” Neito nodded. “She can lift things in rescue missions.”

 “Yet her size can hurt people.” Izumi grinned. This was fun! Tenya had been a good debater, but Neito latched onto Quirks like she did!

 “We have ten minutes left,” Inko said out loud. “Izumi, we need to discuss the terms of the arrangement.”

 “...whoops.” Izumi blushed as Neito blinked before his own cheeks went red. They traded guilty looks right before they got into actually talking. Luckily it was the same as the others, though Neito made her promise to keep emailing him even if she didn’t pick him in the end, declaring that ‘a mind as strong as hers would become a hero in seconds and they’d need to work together to be heroes’. She liked him.

 “Well, you two probably would take over the world together,” Inko said when the Monomas left. “Just don’t kill anyone, dear.”

 “We won’t,” Izumi promised.

-0-

 The meeting with the Shinsou family started out okay, but Izumi had her hands on the table ten minutes into it, leaning forward to glare at Shinsou Hitoshi.

 “Did you have your best friend turn against you and lead your entire class into tormenting you?” she demanded. The boy paled and looked down. His mother, a beautiful purple-haired woman with dark eyes, pointedly sipped her tea. His father, a handsome blonde man, hummed. 

 “No one has a claim on trauma,” he said casually. The adult Shinsous, Hana and Hikaru looked long-suffering when their son commented that Izumi was lucky. Their looks became amused when Izumi decided to inform the boy of her life so far, getting quickly annoyed with him. “Or suffering,” Hikaru said.

 “I… sorry,” Hitoshi muttered. “My aunt told me I should think things through more.”

 “She’s right,” Hana said purposefully loudly. Hitoshi went pinker and sank into his seat. Izumi sighed.

 “As long as you remember, and don’t act like a jerk again,” she said, sitting back down. “Who is your aunt?”

 “Ah,” Hitoshi looked at his mom, who shook her head. “She’s a hero; that’s all I can say.”

 “Really?” Izumi asked, a smile crossing her face. “That’s cool. Does she inspire you?”

 “Sort of,” Hitoshi said. “She has a mutation Quirk rather than a mental one, but it’s like a cute mutation. She punches people who say that, but it’s true. I just… I want to be a hero to prove people like me can.”

 “I understand,” Izumi told him. “I want to be a hero to save people, to help them. But I won’t deny a part of me really wants also to shove it in everyone’s face that I did it.” Hitoshi snorted.

 “We really aren’t that different, huh?” he grinned. “So, favourite hero?”

 “It’s probably too common to say All Might, even if it’s true, but I’m also a fan of heroes who don’t have physical Quirks. Like Sir Nighteye!” Izumi beamed. “And like Mandalay and Ragdoll!”

 “Mandalay is awesome.” Hitoshi agreed. “I’m also an Eraserhead fan; he doesn’t use his Quirk to fight either.”

 “Ehhh,” Izumi wrinkled her nose. “He does sorta. His entire fighting style would rely on the shock of losing their Quirk. He can fight mutation types, but I saw a video where he ended up pretty beat up due to it.”

 “But he doesn’t have a physical Quirk,” Hitoshi argued.

 “Yeah, but his Quirk removed the others. So they operate at a disadvantage since most people have their Quirks integrated into their fighting style-” Izumi explained. Inko let it go on for a bit before coughing.

 “We still need to talk about the arrangement for the year.” she reminded them. “You can email later.”

 “Oh, right! Sorry!” Izumi giggled. Hitoshi just laughed.

-0-

Tokoyami Fumikage had inherited both of his parents' Quirks. His mother, Hinata, had the head of a bird, while his father, Takeshi, had a sentient shadow attached to him. Fumikage did not have a canary for a head like his mother, instead resembling a black bird more like a crow or a raven, and his Shadow was inside of him that could come out while affecting the world around them. Still, it was similar enough that Izumi was amazed.

 “That’s so cool!” she said as Dark Shadow preened. “Or wait, are you a girl? Boy? Fully sentient?” Izumi asked. The shadow chirped.

 “Dark Shadow is fully sentient. We tested for chimerism multiple times, but he is not a twin,” Fumikage explained. “He’s more of a… I don’t want to say pet, but child is wrong. He’s not that smart.” 

 “He’s your Quirk,” Izumi said with a shrug. “He’s still cool.”

 “Thank you,” Fumikage said. “May I ask… how is it to not have a Quirk?” he winced, looking apologetic. Izumi hummed, not offended. 

 “Fumi-” began Hinata, but Izumi spoke up.

 “I’ve never known anything different, but I get bullied a lot,” she said simply. “And, like, I have different biological stuff going on? Like apparently, there’s this thing called blue light, which can cause stuff like lesser melatonin and stuff, so I need a special filter for my phone. I have better balance than most kids 'cause I have the extra joint too.” She shrugged. “It’s probably not different from you having feathers instead of hair. You have different needs than most others, and so do I.”

 “Indeed,” Fumikage nodded. “I go to a special doctor due to my mutation. Do you as well?”

 “Yeah, I got to a few. I even have a special dentist ‘cause, like, apparently, I’ll get stuff called wisdom teeth possibly. And those need to be removed.” Izumi snorted. “It’s dumb.” 

 “Indeed!” Fumikage smiled. “If this… blue light is an issue, do you stick to books?”

 “Mostly, yeah. I use a computer a lot, but I prefer writing and reading like with real paper.” Izumi said. “What’s your favourite book?”

 “I like poetry,” Fumikage admitted with no shame. “I’ve been reading some by Edgar Alan Poe that are just riveting.” 

 “Going to be so goth like his dad as a teen,” Hinata laughed as Takeshi chuckled, no shame in his expression. Fumikage frowned, looking thoughtful. 

 “Like the dark clothes and stuff?” Izumi asked. 

 “That sounds interesting….” Fumikage mused. His parents giggled again as Inko chuckled, Haruno shaking her head in amusement.

 The meeting ended like the others, with an agreement to continue emailing and speaking with one another but no full-on in-person meetings. Haruno sighed when the Tokoyamis left, turning to the Midoriya duo.

 “That went much more smoothly than I thought. I didn’t have to step in at all.” Haruno grinned. “Usually, I need to.”

 “Well, I’m happy you didn’t,” Inko sighed as Izumi stood up. “Bathroom?”

 “Yes!” Izumi said, hurrying away. Way too much tea.

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Notes:

-I refuse to believe that Hawks just appeared out of nowhere at age eighteen cause it makes ZERO sense. Instead, he is known as an intern for a hero called Skyfall who can also fly. Skyfall is 1000% a commission lackey. Also, yes- Hawks was sick that day for real, or he would have gone to the meeting.

-Shouto was very pleased by the entire meeting cause 1) the girl basically said his dad was a show off. And 2) his father might be wrong about his Quirk. Though he still isn’t too happy about getting married off. At least she’s funny.

-The ‘issue’ about the Iida parents was a child neglect charge leveled at them. A sidekick, angry he was fired due to bad behaviour, accused them. They didn’t think anything would come from it… until it did. The Iida parents had a bad habit of treating their youngest like a miniature adult due to his maturity and Tensei often was more involved then they were. Having this shown made them reevaluate their lives. Both retired from hero work, and while Tomomi still works in the agency as more admin, they try to be around Tenya more. It helps.

-My IiDeku love showed here, but, like, I am CONVINCED that Iida was just like Izuku as a hero chaser. Sure often it was his own brother, but I just thought of this and had to write it.

-Monoma and Izumi are NERDS. That’s all I can say.

-Shinsou will always get a good talking to in my fics cause I like it. He’s not fully convinced here but is willing to admit Izumi had a rough life. He’ll get a further wake-up call later. 

-I love Aizawa being Izumi’s mentor and I’ll keep it for the IiDeku route as I did before but I’ll be honest: he isn’t fighting Quirkless. 

-Tokoyami the baby Goth. *sniff* we’re all so proud.

[jasmariswonderland]

“Call It Concern” ~ Iman’s R School Uniform Vignette

“Yawn, the day’s already started and already it’s a bore.”

When her best friend doesn’t show up to class for several days, Iman decides to head to her dorm and search for an explanation. This is a joint vignette with Vidaria and part 2 will be posted on/around her birthday on November 30th!

Fake screencap made with assets from the wonderful @ alchemivich! 💖

~~~

Iman: *sigh* (This is the last stop. Funny, Vidi and I have been friends since before freshman year and this is the first time I’ve ever visited her dorm. Yet she’s been to Scarabia more times than I can count. I don’t think I’d even be here if the circumstance were different. I really hope…)

Silver: Greetings, Your Serene Highness, what brings you here today?

Iman: Hello, Silver. I’m here for…something of an odd reason. 

Silver: Odd? How so? 

Iman: Well, it’s about Vidaria. She hasn’t come to class for nearly a week and she hasn’t come to our club meetings either. Haven’t you noticed?

Silver: Yes I have, I was under the impression Her Highness was ill. At least…that’s what Father told me.*he closes his eyes thoughtfully*

Iman: Hmm? You don’t seem so certain. 

Silver: It’s only that, in the time you’ve known Her Highness, have you ever known her to become ill. Think carefully.

*Iman thinks for a few moments and then shakes her head*

Iman: Now that I think about it, I haven’t. In fact, do fae even get sick like humans? Do they catch colds or anything like that?

Silver: Not that I know of, I’ve never known Father to even catch a fever. To say nothing about Malleus. I believe fae have stronger health than we do and aren’t susceptible to the same ailments as humans. 

Iman: If that’s the case, what’s wrong with Vidi? Call it concern but her absence has really been bothering me, because when I last saw her…

*Flashback*

Iman: Ugh! Trein’s lecture went on forever it seems! I thought I’d scream if he kept us there a minute longer! But at least it’s over, now onto the equestrian club! I’ll just cut though these woods to get there faster!

*sound of loud rustling in the bushes*

Iman: What the? What was that? 

???: And once you’ve deleted that photo, erase the image from your mind! And never, if you value your life speak of what you just saw! I mean it! 

Iman:*smiling* Oh! I know that voice, it’s…

*Vidaria appears, looking very upset*

Iman: Vidi! Hey, girl! Let’s… *Iman notices Vidaria has tears in her eyes* Wait a sec…Vidi, are you alright?

*But Vidaria doesn’t see Iman or even acknowledge that she’s there. Rook appears as well*

Vidaria: I’m serious! If I hear a word about this, I will know who is responsible and so will your dorm leader!

Rook: Once again, a thousand pardons, mademoiselle! Though it pains me, I swear to do as you requested. I shall forget the enchanting spectacle I’ve just witnessed, and will never speak of it. 

Vidaria: ESPECIALLY the last part! Never speak of this! EVER!

*Vidaria runs off and by this point, Iman is watching this happen from some distance*

Iman: I…what happened? What did Rook see and why did it piss her off so much? And why…was she…crying? Well, hopefully she’s feeling better by tomorrow and I can ask her then. 

*End Of Flashback*

Silver: I see, well unfortunately I’m not aware of anything that might have upset her recently. 

Iman: And Rook-san? Has he mentioned anything when you’ve seen him? 

Silver: Nothing. Nothing at all. Have you tried asking Rook directly?

Iman: *frowns* I have, In fact right before I came here…

*Flashback*

Iman: I’m sorry, perhaps I wasn’t clear. There’s no way you just told me no!

Rook: Ah, but that’s exactly what I just said, Princesse. 

Iman: What do you mean?! Vidi hasn’t come to class for several days and you’re the last one to see her! What secret are you keeping?!

Iman: Well, at least you are keeping that promise to her. It must have been something very serious then. 

Rook: I will neither confirm nor deny your thoughts, but have you thought of visiting Diasomnia and asking her yourself?

*Iman glares at him but her face softens to a thoughtful look*

*End Of Flashback*

Iman: And so here I am.

Silver: I respect Rook for not speaking of her secret to anyone, *sighs* and now, I cannot help but feeling a bit concerned myself. 

Iman: Can I see her? Even if I don’t know what her secret is, I’d still like to make sure she is alright. 

Silver: *smiling* I understand, Her Highness is extremely fortunate to have a friend like you. *rising from his chair* Come, I’ll take you to her. 

~~~

Silver: Hello, Father. Her Serene Highness has come here out of concern for Princess Vidaria. Could you direct us to her room?

Lilia: *smiling* Hello, Iman. That is very thoughtful of you. *sighs* Unfortunately, Vidaria is...ummm....currently not in a suitable state to receive guests. I can’t let you see her just now. 

Iman: *looking surprised* Not in a suitable state? What do you mean? 

Silver: Father, Does this mean that Her Highness is sick after all?

Lilia: No, not sick. At least, not in the traditional sense. Vidaria is just experiencing some...growing pains as of late. But do not fret, give her a few more days and she will return to class and return to her normal kittenish self.

Iman: Could you at least give me an idea of what is wrong? The last time I saw her, she was very upset and it’s been bothering me ever since. 

Lilia: ...*closes his eyes in thought*

Iman: ...

Lilia: ...

Iman and Silver: ...

Lilia: Forgive me, Desert Bloom. I cannot say. But please trust me when I tell you that everything is alright. This I swear. 

Iman: *annoyed sigh* That’s all I can do, it seems. But I do trust you, Lilia. Just please let Vidi know I was here.

Lilia: That I will do, but before you go, you know Vidaria’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks. She’ll be passing a great milestone this year and naturally, we’ll be celebrating accordingly. Can we expect to see you there?

Iman: *grinning* Duh! Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world! Okay, that makes me feel a little better so this visit wasn’t a total waste. Thank you, guys, and please give Vidaria my regards. Tell her if she’s not back in class by next week, I will be back here!

Silver: Yes, Your Serene Highness. Of course!

Lilia: Yes, and I have no doubt, Iman. 

- END - 

[theruinbringers]

Preservance — Chapter 1

[TOC] [Next]

The weather’s horrible today. Even though it’s just barely six in the morning, the sun’s already piercing through my hoodie. Kinda makes me wish I didn’t wear one at all. Didn’t pay all that money not to show this off, though.

“███! I’ll be back late again, ███” I’m already halfway out of the house when my mom calls out. “Do you want to stay at your cousin’s house until I come back?”

I grimace back at her. “She’s gonna keep trying to make me model for her.”

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to go along with it… It’s just for her project, isn’t it?” My mom sighs. “What if you ask her for help in college and she won’t do it because she doesn’t want to?”

“Why am I gonna ask her for help?”

She sighs again. “I’ll leave dinner money on the table. Please try not to use it all.”

“‘Kay.” I adjust the backpack on my back. “See you tomorrow, mom.”

“I said I’ll be back late, not tomorrow!”

I walk off, ignoring my mom’s groans. It’s true, anyway— at this point, it’s weirder to even have her nagging me off as I leave. Really makes skipping class harder than usual.

Out of habit, I flick my phone open while I walk out of my subdivision. It immediately starts buzzing with the beeps that come from my friend’s dumb text messages.

Cinnabar - 6:04

███

are you going to skip class

Me - 6:04 

Ya

Cinnabar - 6:05

s2g youre going to restart the school year bc of absences

at least show up today?

i cant pick you as a groupmate if you dont show up

A car beeps past me as I nearly walk into traffic. Jeez. One second later and I’d be in another world. I swerve back closer to the sidewalk. 

Me - 6:07

Talk later almost got run over

Cinnabar - 6:07

LOOK AT THE ROAD

are you sixteen or six????? 

fine ill call you

Me - 6:07

K

It takes a few minutes before my phone buzzes back to life. The bus stop’s only a few steps away by this point. I quickly pay the fare before stealing the back seat. 

I throw my backpack on the empty spot and lie against the window. It’s only then I actually answer Cinnabar’s call.

“—ello? Hello— ███, why did you take so long to answer?” An exasperated voice on the other side demands. “I even told you I was going to call!” 

I grin behind the receiver. “Not everyone takes a car, y’know. Some of us have to pay our way to school.”

“You can just say you were boarding the bus— Wait. Are you even planning to attend?” 

“Dunno. You just need me to show up for Math, right?”

“And the rest of the day, too!” She huffs. “I’m serious. You really might end up repeating the year.”

“S’fine. I won’t. I’ve got three more days before that happens.”

“That’s even worse. We’re only halfway through September!”

“Oh. That’s why you were talking ‘bout groupmates?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t realize it was project week…” Cinnabar groans. “Come on. What do you do when you skip, anyways?”

“I—”

Someone clears their throat. I look up with a frown. Some tall, foreign looking guy’s standing in the aisle between chairs. The black sun hat on their head makes ‘em stand out even more.

“Pardon me, child. Is anyone sitting here?” They point to the seat beside me.

“Um. No, sorry.” I quickly move my backpack over, settling it beside my legs. “You can go.”

“Much obliged.” They smile at me before taking their seat. They take their hat off, setting it on their lap. It’s big enough that it hits me.

“███? What’s wrong?”

“Left my bag on the seat ‘sides me. Someone wanted to know if they could sit.”

“You should really put something there after everyone’s boarded…”

“But I got a better chance at getting two seats for myself, yeah?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Nah, I’m plenty believable. ‘m not a cryptid or anything.”

“You could be, with how little anyone gets to see you. Even I barely get to see you!”

“Well—”

I’m cut off by the sound of something clattering to the floor. The stranger besides me leans down and picks something up. They turn it around between their fingers with a weird look. Can’t describe it, except that it reminds me of that time I burnt rice in front of my mom.

“Quin B. Lautillio,” the stranger says. “Is that you?”

I grip my phone a little harder than I need to. “Who’re you talking to?”

They smile. “You, of course. Is this your name, child?”

“No.” I lie as I grit my teeth. It is; it’s the one name I’m actually proud of. But it isn’t a name anyone should know— especially not a stranger I met five minutes ago. 

“What’s going on, ███?” 

“Later,” I tell her. I put my phone down, leaving the call on. Dunno if I need someone to dial one one seven or something. “Why d’you wanna know, anyway?” 

“Ah. I apologize, child.” Their smile sticks to their face like glue. “I simply found a pin with your name attached, so I assumed—” 

“My name’s ███, ‘kay?” My words come out more snappy than I want ‘em to be. “You got a problem with it or something?”

The stranger raises their hands peacefully. “Please, calm down. I only wanted to know if this pin was yours.”

“...Right. Sorry.” I clench my fists. This conversation would be a lot easier if I just ended that call. It’d also be a whole lot scarier too, since this person apparently knows my name. The whole thing feels way more safer knowing someone’s listening in. Y’know, to report my murder. 

“It’s alright, child. Why don’t I call you child for now?” They fold their hands together. “That aside, I do believe you’d want to keep this. The design’s lovely, you see. It’d be a shame for it to have no owner.”

They place a pin on top of my closed fist. I frown. The design isn’t that impressive. Looks kinda weird, actually. It’s like someone made an arch around a drawing of a star. This supposed to be modern art or something?

The whole thing’s practically a horror story if you ask me. A stranger dressed in all black giving me something with my real name… next thing you know, this bus is gonna drive me straight into hell.

I tuck the pin away in my pockets anyway. It’d be a waste to throw it. Totally gonna dunk it in water or something first, though. There’s probably a tracking device in it.

“Thanks, I guess?” I pick my phone back up, ready to continue my daily dose of getting nagged. “So… we good?”

“Ah. There’s one more thing, I’m afraid.” 

“Yeah?” I tuck my phone under my jacket pocket, fingers one tap away from calling the police. Maybe it’d still pull through, even if I’m still calling someone. “What is it?”

Somehow, their smile grows sad. “This may tingle a little.”

“What—” 

My pocket starts buzzing. I frown and pick up my phone, but there’s nothing. No new notifications, no new calls, no new messages…

“Are you still there, ███?” Cinnabar’s voice asks softly. “I’ll hang up.”

I instinctively reach to turn the call into speaker mode. “Wait, hold up. There’s something going on. I need you to—”

That’s when I realize how damn good of a liar that stranger is.

The next second, that buzzing turns to static. And by static, I mean electricity. A surge runs through my body, lighting me up like a Christmas tree. 

My phone thuds to the ground with a crack.

“███?! What’s happening? Why are you yelling?”

“Hold on,” I hear the stranger say faintly. “That… is not what should be happening. Letina? Letina, what should we—”

Voices are starting to surround us. Muffled, loud, panicked, worried, angry…

None of it’s helping the fact that it feelings like my insides are being used like a fucking battery. 

“You…” I grit my teeth, arm reaching out for that ass’ hat—

[Be thankful, cenn.] Words begin to form from thin air in front of me. [I could have made your last moments worse.]

It’s the last thing I see before I feel something choke the lights outta me.

[yhwhrulz777]

Today's Daily Encounter Thursday, June 22, 2023

True Joy

These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.1

Do you realize that Jesus wants you to be full of joy? Not just full but overflowing with joy? It is important, though, that we do not confuse joy with happiness. "Aren't they the same?", you might ask. Well, no, they're not; happiness is passing. Happiness is that feeling you get when you finally get to go on vacation, get a new pair of comfortable shoes, or dinner comes out perfectly. Joy goes much deeper; it comes from the memories you make while on that vacation, the adventures those comfortable shoes take you on, and the time spent around the dinner table with your loved ones that create a lasting joy that fills your life!

Writer C. W. Metcalf was working as a hospice volunteer when he met 13-year-old Chuck, who was terminally ill. One day Chuck gave Metcalf half-a-dozen sheets of paper with writing on both sides and said, "I want you to give this to my mom and dad after I die. It's a list of all the fun we had, all the times we laughed." Metcalf was amazed that this young boy on the verge of death was thinking about the wellbeing of others. Years later he decided to make a list of his own. Surprisingly, he found it difficult at first to compile his "joy list." But as he began looking each day for the moments of laughter, satisfaction, and joy, his list began to grow.2

This young boy had found joy in the fun he'd had with his family and in the laughter they'd shared. Each one of those moments had been seared in his heart and had filled him with joy, even in his last days. Throughout John chapter 15, Jesus tells His disciples to remain or abide in Him and that in itself would allow them to be full of joy. Jesus had taught them not to worry about tomorrow, but to live for today; he taught them to love others better than themselves; he taught them to live like Him, but more specifically in Him. In spending time with Jesus, those men had true joy.

Do you have a joy list? Can you look into your life and see the blessings that God has brought you? Do you stay focused on what He has done, is doing, and will do in your life? That is what will bring you true joy!

Suggested Prayer: Thank you, Father, for Your Word, which teaches me how to have true joy. Help me abide in You so that I might find pleasure in all the blessings You give. Allow me to overflow with Your joy! In Jesus' name, Amen.

John 15:11 (ESV).

Illustration from www.sermoncentral.com

Today's Encounter was written by: Veronica B.

NOTE: If you would like to accept God's forgiveness for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ, please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.

Daily Encounter is published at no charge by ACTS International, a non-profit organization, and made possible through the donations of interested friends. Donations can be sent at: http://www.actscom.com

ACTS International P.O. Box 73545 San Clemente, California 92673-0119 U.S.A.

Phone: 949-940-9050 http://www.actsweb.org

Copyright (c) 2016 by ACTS International.

When copying or forwarding include the following: "Daily Encounter by Richard (Dick) Innes (c) 2005-2023 ACTS International.

[unsat-and-strange]

pardon this post probably veing completely incom but i just finished the last season of the owl house and jm just words cannot descrobe the emotions i am feeling roght now like i feel like i should be shaking but i dont think i am and i think this is the kind of emotional aaaaaaaaaa that people wpuld cry from wether its positive or negative emotion bht i dont really cry all that much and i am still just reeling like my fucking god this is just aaaajfjeggrbdnsdb its too much and i love them all and theyre so very traumatiEd and i literally cant right now just o my god i need togo to bed its almost 5 in the morning right now and k meed to study tomorrow i have a final ln monday but i still cant get lver this fucking show just jdhhfhshrhfbndjdjdnfndbegrhakakwkendbmdxbdbshjekrkd shaking right now i had to run a few laps around my building a little bit ago jist because holy shit and i hear the next season isnt clming iut until next march?!?? i wont even be living here then who knows where ill be!?!! i need to go to bed ill tag this later

[whoooo-eliwood]

Finished building the blade! Woohoo! All that's left is to modgepodge and spray paint this bitch and it's onto the handgaurd! Also, since I feel like all my previous pics haven't captured the sheer size of this thing here's it next to a ruler+ a wobbly tape measure :)

[libraford]

The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time. 

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word. 

Don't. 

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs. 

Let them. 

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem. 

Life is surprising. 

 I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now. 

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in. 

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think." 

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly. 

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!" 

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door. 

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later." 

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice. 

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away. 

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time." 

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying. 

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods. 

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register. 

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out. 

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief. 

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices." 

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special." 

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story: 

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them." 

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?" 

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious. 

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag. 

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison. 

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking. 

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen. 

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!" 

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture. 

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow. 

And that's why there are rules. 

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful. 

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said. 

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse. 

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street. 

Wren drives very fast. 

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry. 

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief. 

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect." 

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her. 

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing. 

So now there are rules. 

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag. 

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out. 

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first. 

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00. 

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight. 

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags. 

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it. 

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it. 

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you. 

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble. 

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules. 

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount. 

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways. 

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said: 

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!" 

"They've been sitting without water for hours." 

"They're still good!" 

"They were out in the sun." 

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!" 

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears. 

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage. 

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me. 

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email." 

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday." 

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!" 

"Saturday." 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday." 

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale." 

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday." 

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer. 

 And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together. 

"Sure." 

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink." 

"Sure." 

I print it. I ring her up $5. 

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free." 

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5." 

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time." 

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?" 

She grumbled, and paid. 

 And again. 

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?" 

"When the work is done." 

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren." 

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?" 

"When the work stops, I rest."

 And again. 

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up. 

"Oh baby..." 

"No. We're doing away with the discounts." 

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling. 

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-" 

"How can you do this to me?" 

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement." 

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?" 

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar." 

Stamp, stamp, stamp. 

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back. 

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register. 

"Is it now?" 

 And again. 

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin. 

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned. 

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go. 

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me. 

I began taking down numbers. 

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens. 

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler. 

"$54? What do I have that's $54?" 

"The oasis. They're $2 each." 

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1." 

"I can text Grandpa and ask her." 

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!" 

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses." 

"22.50 is everybody prices." 

"Welcome to 'everybody.'" 

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!" 

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else." 

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me. 

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me. 

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this." 

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.' 

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand. 

"Can you do something for me  on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty." 

"9.50." 

"9.50's the regular price." 

"Regular price is $14." 

"No it ain't." 

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals." 

She put them back. 

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy. 

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!" 

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice. 

Not here. 

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be. 

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes... 

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.' 

"No." 

It's such a great word. 

There are rules and there are rules. 

And there are thieves that the rules are made for. 

And there are words like 'no.' 

And all those things are magic in very human ways. 

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

[giggles-and-freckles]

bed bargain for satine and obi-wan maybe?? 😍

bed bargain: [Obi-Wan] won’t stay in bed. [Satine] convinces them. (from these prompts)

Obi-Wan groans from his desk as knuckles rap against the other side of the door. It’s Anakin, no doubt, come to question him on the events of the day. There’s no confusion on exactly what Anakin will be wanting to know.

Girlfriend. A ridiculous accusation and just something to get under Obi-Wan’s skin. The trouble is Anakin’s always been far too good at that and Obi-Wan let it get to him today. 

He’s in severe need of a break. But Death Watch seems to be a larger issue than the Council had thought and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

The knocking continues.

He sighs deeply and pushes away from the desk. As he stands, there’s a rush of hot fuzziness that fills the space behind his eyes. But he blinks and it’s gone. Yet another side effect of the long day, apparently. To accompany the dizziness that has developed in the past hour.

The knocking is louder. More hurried.

Definitely Anakin.

“I’m coming!” he yells, making his way to the door. “Honestly, all these years and you have learned nothing of patience—“

He stops as the door slides open. 

“You would be amazed at the patience I have developed, actually.”

“Duchess,” he says stiffly.

Her lips twitch into a frown, but flatten back out into a thin line. “Hello.”

“It’s late.”

“Yet you are still awake.”

He casts a quick glance behind him, but the movement is too quick. The room spins and his hand reaches out, blindly. He finds the edge of the door and grips it.

“I’ve been busy,” he says, turning back around to find that her eyes are fixed on his hand, clinging to the door.

She looks back up. “I assumed as much. Before tomorrow, when the Republic will undoubtedly take your words and twist them until I am the villain they are apparently so desperate for,” – she ignores his scoff – “I wanted us to try and get on the same page.”

“We have never quite managed to achieve that, my dear,” he says.

Her frown deepens as she studies him. “Not for lack of trying.”

He clears his throat. “Is this something we could discuss in the morning? I still have–”

“No,” she says, and pushes past him into the room. “Now is good.”

“For you,” he grumbles, but allows the door to slide closed. He turns and follows her in the room. She sits on the sofa easily, as if this is the most normal thing. “I didn’t have the opportunity to thank you for the luxurious accommodations. Anakin hasn’t stopped talking about–”

“He’s not what I expected.”

Obi-Wan blinks. He wants to sit, but can’t bring himself to join her on the couch. So he hovers. “Pardon?”

“Your student. He idolises you, clearly. When you used to call and tell me of him–”

“That was a very long time ago,” he says quickly. 

“Yes,” she agrees quietly. Her eyes move to the floor between them. “It was.”

His visions swims and he can’t determine whether it’s exhaustion or a response to the lowness of her tone. The unopened nook of hurt and betrayal that she clearly feels, though he can’t understand why.

But then–that’s not true either. It’s just what he’s told himself for the past ten years, to avoid the habitual pain he was putting himself through for so long. Constantly comming her–and thinking about her in the meantime. Something had to give if he was to honour his commitment to the Jedi and his commitment to Anakin.

He drops to the couch next to her. “I was lost.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But you also didn’t want to be found.”

“I needed to…” he frowns, looking for the words. It’s painful revisiting this part of his life, immediately after Qui-Gon’s death, when everything was overwhelming and nothing felt right. “Needed to figure it out.”

“No,” she says, but there’s no chastisement in her voice. “Not by yourself.”

“Yes,” he insists. “I–”

“My dear Obi-Wan,” she says. Fixes him with those eyes that have seen too much of the galaxy and too much of him. There’s too much compassion that he doesn’t feel particularly deserving of. “Accepting help is not a crime.”

He shuts his eyes, but it does nothing to stop the pounding in his head or the pain in his chest. 

“Obi-Wan?” she says, her tone sharper than it was before. Then– “Obi-Wan!”

“I’m all right,” he manages, opening his eyes as the wave of nausea passes. He pulls a weak smile. “Sorry. I just–”

She fixes him with a hard stare. “You’re ill.”

“I’m not ill,” he scoffs.

She lifts her hand and rests it on his forehead. Doesn’t let him pull away. “Stubborn as always.”

Since she’s not letting him move away, he figures there’s no real harm in leaning into her a bit. “You have no experience with that.”

Satine laughs loudly and lets her hand fall to his cheek. They watch each other for a moment and Obi-Wan wonders if she sees the wayward young padawan the way he sees the headstrong young duchess. So much has changed, in the galaxy and between them, but beyond the light wrinkles (which he’d never point out, obviously) and thinner face, it’s the same eyes blinking back at him. He’s thankful for something consistent.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “for not holding it against me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she hums. Her hand falls to the place on the couch between them. She moves it so that it rests over his.

He rolls his eyes at her snark, but turns his hand over under hers. Links their fingers together. “When Qui-Gon died. You were so…” A deep sigh. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I didn’t do anything, my dear. You–”

“Exactly. You just listened. Let me talk, grieve, process,” he says. “I needed that. Even though I left...you never…”

She squeezes his hand. “There was never a question of you leaving. I knew it was coming–and I wasn’t angry. You had to return to the Jedi. I...I had a system to lead.”

“But even so. When I sought your help–”

“I’ll always be there for you, my dear.”

His gut twists over. “I don’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. Then, lifts their interlinked hands up and drops the lightest of kisses on the back of his palm. “You deserve so much more. More than this harsh galaxy will ever be able to repay you, I fear.”

“With Anakin. And...everything. I was overwhelmed. I was...I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry. I...I didn’t mean to lose you, too.”

She smiles at him. “You didn’t.” Kisses his hand again. “And you never will.” She stands from the couch, then, pulling him up along with her. The motion jars him, and he has to grip her shoulder to stay upright. She looks him up and down with a frown. “I believe it’s time for bed for you, darling.”

He pulls away as well as he can. Grounds his feet and takes a breath. “No. I have to finish–”

“Obi-Wan,” she says firmly. “Bed.”

“I have work to do. Death Watch. They...I need to keep you safe. Need to–”

“As the ruler of this world, I order you to go to bed.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth opens, then closes. “You can’t,” – he frowns at the floor for a moment, then smiles victoriously – “I have diplomatic immunity!”

“This isn’t the Republic,” she reminds him. “And if you remember–I’m particularly stubborn.” She begins to guide him toward the bed, even as he struggles against her. “Oh, honestly, Obi-Wan. Stop being such a child.”

“Stop treating me like one!” he cries, then stops walking abruptly as the room begins to spin again. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and takes a shuddery breath. This bout of dizziness lasts longer than the ones before and it takes him an extra moment to gather himself.

A light hand is at his back immediately, rubbing small circles. For some reason, the motion cracks his resolve.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, scared of how broken he sounds. “When I do...it’s just nightmares. Images, memories–”

“I’ll stay,” she says, and wraps an arm around his waist.

“That’s highly inappropriate,” he says immediately in response because it’s what he’s supposed to say. And Obi-Wan Kenobi has grown very good at saying what he’s supposed to say. If the Council were to catch wind of this. A Jedi Master sharing a bed with a Duchess–

She lifts an eyebrow and his face reddens. Because he knows she’s remembering what he’s remembering. How unconcerned he was with what was appropriate once upon a time. He’s lost the padawan braid since then, though, and she’s gained a system of planets. It’s not the same.

“I’ll only stay until you fall asleep,” she says, saving him from further embarrassment. 

Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to admit his disappointment, so he just nods, and sheds his outer robe. She watches as he kicks off his boots and sets them in the corner of the room. Watches as he unties his belt and drapes it over a chair. When he finally makes his way toward the bed, she is waiting for him, standing with her arms crossed and a patient expression.

“Are you quite done?” she says, and her lips quirk up at the corners.

He doesn’t respond. Only rolls his eyes and slides beneath the sheets. She pulls back the other side in a much more graceful manner, making sure her long dress doesn’t get wrapped around her. She’s always had such a talent for making the mundane look like a dance. He tries not to stare; it’s hard.

There is at least a foot of space between them in the bed and neither makes a move to close it. 

“You didn’t use to sleep with so many clothes on,” she says after a moment of silence.

“Neither did you.”

She makes a sound of indignation, then sighs. “Touché.”

He chuckles and reaches for her hand, under the sheets. She flinches when he first grabs it and he wonders if this is too much. Physical contact within the confines of a bed. He moves to pull back, but her grip is vice-like. She doesn’t turn her head to look at him, but he’s glad. He’s still having a hard time not staring.

“Thank you,” he says finally. 

…

When the sunlight filters through the curtains he never drew closed and wakes him up the next morning, she’s still there.