#because as soon as your wealth is gone so is your value

[forgottengodsclub]

i’ll be honest nothing has been better for my mental health recently than seeing people slander muskrat on here. talking about him being a slimy wet cocoon creature with a humiliation fetish and the idol of business major frat boys with no real identity has reassured me that i’m really not as bad or weird of a person as i thought because all of those things are right. at least i wouldn’t let grimes stomp on my balls

[ashfae]

The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

[thehistoriangirl]

Until Our Secrets Drift Us Apart [7]

I apologize because I'm rusty after taking so long in posting a new part of this story, but I hope I will catch the rhythm soon :D

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Modern AU/Marriage of Convenience--- 3.1K ---SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Summary: Upon the surprising death of the CEO of Daxer Corp., the battle for the presidential chair began with unexpected violence. Threaten to lose everything you’ve been working on during your entire life; it’s time you must find a desperate solution to grasp the control over your part of the emporium, and even your own freedom. Which better idea than solidifying your subsidiary's future than ally with the rising tech company, HexTech? And oh, what a special type of alliance it would be…  

Tags: Not-So-Forced Proximity| Marriage of Convenience| Strangers to Lovers| Drama & Romance| Eventual Smut| Domestic Fluff| Post-Wedding|  Not Really Unrequited Love| Fake Dating| Eventual Happy Ending

Chapter Summary: The hunt for your mother's lost will hasn't ended, but Viktor is there to give you words of comfort when you need them--and perhaps even more than that. If you're willing to take it.

7: What Blooms in Winter

Mrs. Emma Quivar was all business when you crossed the spotless threshold of her office outlined in stainless iron and black marble.

Gone were the days where she would greet you with a kiss on the cheek while visiting your mother for business; but you weren’t the same shy teenager wishing to take the least space possible in the enormous penthouse your mother called home anymore.

You still remembered your mother’s words when Emma gestured for you to sit down, with her stubbornly chastising you to erase the word ‘friend’ while regarding her business partners. At the time, you considered it like another of your mother’s quirks, but now you had understood it, a tad too late, maybe.

“My child, hello, hello,” Emma said, her hands gesturing away for you to sit across from her. “I didn’t think you’d have a lovebird tucked away from the eyes of the family.” She chuckled, her gaze miniaturized by her glasses, and yet still piercing to rummage your thoughts. “Your mother would have loved to know about him, that way she wouldn’t have left thinking you were all alone.”

You doubted your mother would care for such a thing if that would’ve happened.

She decided not to marry for a reason, despite the countless business proposals laid over her desk. Just as she thought that there were only business partners instead of friends, she thought so of romantic relationships, carrying in the memories of the Daxer’s tradition of marrying by sole mutual convenience instead of real feelings. Those were frivolities that not even the real frivolities of wealth and power could meet all the time.

Or else—that was something no Daxer was inclined to even consider.

“I see you have read the news,” you muttered. Or perhaps someone had let her know.

“I wonder how you kept it hidden from your mother.” Her black eyes pierced you as Quivar looked at you for the first time, adjusting her glasses to look away from the computer. “You only work and go home. Where did you meet him? He’s… somewhat attractive, I’d say.”

A scoff was about to break free. You were too tired from your family trip for these games.

“Do you keep a copy of my mother’s will? I need it.” Emma was a placeholder in the stock bureau, not much, but she would be interested in how the fight for the CEO position will develop. I know you were appointed with one copy.

Just as the other two ex-business partners of your mother, who preferred to bet on the more obvious winner of the competition, Mathieu.

"Hmmm. And how much will you value a thing such as that?" Emma said, with a hand on her heart. “I held your mother’s friendship very close to my heart.”

It was always about taking. Demand with an unfair deal—and you were also guilty of this, asking Viktor to fake a marriage with you, dragging him into this chaos for a menial reward.

Spend all those upcoming years with you when he could go on and live his life, find certainty instead of more questions after every not-so-accidental touch, the moments right after separating away from a kiss.

Your eyes hardened. “What do you want?”

She pointed at her computer with a sigh. “HexTech is such an ever-growing enterprise; from industrial mechanics to more specialized fields. It has a bright future." Emma smiled. "I hope some of its light can be cast upon me."

Your lips parted, the answer surprising you both.

“No.” Words stern and cold. “I don’t own HexTech, I can’t integrate a new shareholder without consulting it with the board.” Most importantly, consulting it with Viktor and Jayce. It was their dream, after all. You didn’t have any right to tamper with it. “I can give a percentage of my company, FireBird Security, but HexTech is off-limits.”

Emma crossed her arms, the red blazer she wore getting all wrinkled. “Why is that? Your husband won’t approve, by any chance?” She said, her eyes twinkling with mockery. “I thought he loved you dearly.”

“I love him dearly, that’s why I’m not doing anything behind his back.”

The silence hung heavy between you two, both your and her eyes widened,  lips slightly ajar at the sudden outburst.

Your heart picked up speed, skin got hotter, almost prickling with shame. What was that? Standing up with a jump, you decided to cut the meeting short as now it was clear that Emma wasn't on your side anymore—if she even was at the beginning.

Emma clicked her tongue. “You’re still very naïve,” she told you. “To think that man wouldn’t have accepted already if given the chance of being in your place.”

You conjured Viktor's golden eyes shining like molten gold against the evening sun, the chestnut locks of his hair moving with the soft breeze that smelled like grass and summer flowers as you cradled his head on your lap.

You chuckled, amused at Emma’s words, thinking that they had gotten out Léonie’s first, echoed in this office as your aunt poisoned her mind. 

“Say hello to my aunt once you reunite again,” you stated toward her, your eyes boring holes into her face as you glared at her from above your shoulder before closing the door with a slam.

It was so easy for Léonie to move across society picking her best moves while you struggled to even get a foot in this place, which one each day you were convinced wasn’t for you.

Would the voices that whispered usurper ever cease? Even if you got to sit in the CEO's chair? Because you could imagine them bouncing, reverberating with an endless echo inside such a big and quiet office.

What would have been of you if your mother had never adopted you?

For a moment, a childish part of you imagined you working in a suburban area of this bustling city, crossing paths with Viktor once by crossing a street, with either of you looking back.

You couldn't know if the strange sensation located in your chest was sadness, or the eerily unfamiliar sense of relief.

The cozy apartment smelled like coffee when you opened the door, a warm air coming from the swinging door against the chill of the arriving autumn outside.

Viktor was hunched over the coffee table in the living room, papers scattered everywhere alongside a pen that had exploded, stains of blue ink shining against the lamp nearby. Rio was nuzzled against some blankets, deeply asleep.

His brows frowning in focus relaxed at the sight of you, his golden gaze turned toward your figure as you were taking your shoes off.

He smiled. “Hello,” he said, the pen held in his hands clicking in a rapid rhythm as he flapped it between his fingers. “I made coffee, please feel free to drink some.” Viktor chuckled. “It wouldn’t do good to, eh, drink it all by myself.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking off the coat that now was too warm inside the cocoon of the apartment. “I think I’ll take some tea, though.” You tried to smile when he looked at you. “I need something… relaxing.”

Viktor settled down the papers then, taking the handle of his cane tucked in the armrest. “Did your meeting go badly?” he muttered, standing up to walk toward you.

You nodded, trying to curve your lips upward without much success. You didn't wish to burden him with your problems—despite how much you had dragged him already. Sometimes such thoughts kept you up at night, looking at the dim golden light of the living room lamp on way past 1 AM. And you couldn't help but wonder if, in those hours when the silence ate you away, he was regretting his choice.

“I’ll make you a hot chocolate, hmm?” Viktor was already walking toward the kitchen.

“You don’t have to,” you heard yourself stutter. “I’m sure you’re busy.” Just like you, he always was.

Viktor gestured away. “Don’t worry about it. Jayce always tells me I have to take small breaks.” He looked at you with a little smile. “Maybe I’ll start following his advice.”

“With some luck, not all his advice,” you mumbled, which made him chuckle.

“If you think his advice is… questionable, you should wait to hear mine,” Viktor told you, an eyebrow raised.

“Please do tell,” you said, with him helping to pull out a stool in front of the breakfast bar.

“Well, I think—"

You decided the bad idea of opening a package of cookies that were lying there, the sound waking the cockatoo up, who squeaked “Viktor!” before flying to pose next to you in the breakfast bar, her little head bobbing side to side as she looked at your fingers sheepishly taking a cookie out.

“No, Rio. We’ve talked about that,” Viktor scolded her.

You raised the cookie toward the bird. “Here,” you told her in the softest voice you could manage.

Rio lounged at it, breaking the surface with its beak. But then she noticed that you weren’t pulling the treat away, only rotating it so she could bite into it again.

It could be that Viktor was surveilling her, but Rio started to bite slower, her head gently tilting toward the cookie. Even so, you gave Viktor the remaining core of it so he could feed her so close to his fingers. You could still remember the hot pain of the bird’s beak.

“Say thank you, Rio,” Viktor said once the cookie had gone into her stomach.

The bird flapped her wings, flying away toward Viktor’s room.

“Rio!”

"It isn't necessary," you said, although amused by your (fake) husband's relationship with his pet. In other circumstances, you would've joked that Rio was that adopted daughter reticent of trusting her new stepmother. "Don't worry about it."

Rio squeaked, returning triumphant over the breakfast bar. She wobbled to step in front of you, dropping a sunflower seed near your hand and then flying away as quickly as she had arrived.

You looked at the seed. “This is for you.” You held it between your fingers, offering it to Viktor.

“Oh no, no.” Viktor was smiling, gently wrapping his hand over yours with shy fingers, a touch barely as light as the morning sun cast over your face in early spring. “That’s for you.” He chuckled. “A little gift.”

You felt his warm fingers beneath your hand slightly cold from just being outside, your eyes drawn to his in a gentle motion that still made your heart jump. “Maybe I should plant it, and see what blooms from it,” you muttered.

“I have a little pot,” he answered in the same tone, his hand still hovering over yours.

“Then it’ll be like our little child?” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying, feeling stupid as soon as the words were gone from your mouth and into the world.

Instead of hearing a mocking laugh, or to feel his awkward gaze, Viktor smiled and nodded. "Don't let Rio hear this but… yes," he said, leaning against you to mutter such a secret. "And something tells me that it will be as pretty as its mother.”

You giggled like a fool, feeling your face starting to feel hot.

It wasn't impossible not to take him, the way his face was highlighted by the dim golden light from the living room against the bright white bulb in the kitchen, how his eyes diverged from your eyes toward your lips.

Your fingers grabbed the edge of the bar to lean against him, closing the seemingly abysmal distance between each other’s lips.

Always taking.

Today, though, you wished to give.

Shyness tried to overcome your bold move, redirecting the motion of your lips to pose toward his cheek instead, in a mere fleeting peck. Yet, your resolution was higher, closing your eyes shut with force as if you were about to jump off a cliff.

He tasted like coffee, the motion of his open lips slow and unsure, scared you’d pull him away after realizing your mistake.

Though in this moment you could barely register the action like so. It felt… right, something supposed to be. And even if part of you stayed thrilled at the thought, the other was terrified.

Viktor's hand slipped into the curve of your hip, his fingers finding soft and aching skin, wishing for his touch without realization.

If you’d lived in a lie for the last couple of months, what would Viktor consider your relationship to be? Especially with so many blurry lines starting to conjoin and erase in unknown patterns to try and figure out the result—would it be chaos or art?

One moment, you were still in the kitchen with the purr of the milk starting to boil, and the other you were standing at the edge of the restaurant rooftop, with the wind blowing cold at your back and Viktor's warmth hugging you closer, both trying to take you in and to cover you from the harshness of the world.

Who knew what else you'd done if the stove wasn’t starting to hiss in anger from the abandonment of the milk that was threatening with spilling out the pot.

Viktor muttered a curse that you couldn't listen to, not between the cacophony of your beating heart and the sounds of your obnoxiously loud breath.

He went to pour a tablet of chocolate inside the milk, stirring the contents until the forming foam went away. You stayed sitting across from him on the breakfast bar, playing with the little seed inside your sweaty palms.

“Um…” you said, cringing at the sound of your voice in such a quiet room. "You said you have a piece of advice for me?"

Viktor’s cheeks were bright pink, eyes glued to the hot chocolate in the making.

“Eh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well, my advice may sound bland, but I think you can make good use of it. I’ve noticed that we have more in common than… ah—than we might initially thought.”

You blinked, it wasn’t at all surprising. You barely saw each other between the long journeys from work, the only sign of companionship being the slits of light filtering beneath the bedroom doors at night.

“Which is why I struggle with asking for help,” Viktor muttered, taking two cups from the cupboard and pouring steaming hot cocoa inside them. “Which is why I would like to offer you my help in anything you could… eh, need.”

You were about to protest, the phrase, ‘you don’t have to’ almost slipping out your lips.

“I don’t do it out of obligation,” Viktor stated, giving you one of the cups and settling in a seat across from yours. “I mean it.”

That was the scary part, because if he did—then what?

“I… I don’t know if I can give you that back. What you’re giving me.”

“I don’t seek retribution,” Viktor called your name, hands hovering as if trying to land atop yours.

“That’s unfair,” you said, thinking about all the passing deals and contracts you’d done in the past, all the infinite pile you’d do for the rest of your life, and how to think of Viktor like just a passing signature between all those pages made you feel.

“Perhaps.” He nodded. “But I won’t pressure you. I know what was getting myself into, and I abide by it, by all of it.”

It was the first time in the day that you smiled, lips curved and with your eyes crinkling close in half-moons.

“Thank you, Viktor.” His words had stirred an idea.

He copied your smile, the glimpse of his teeth glistening against the white bulb of the kitchen lamp. “Of course,” he simply said, sitting idly and silent until you had drunk all the hot chocolate and waiting for you to excuse yourself toward your bedroom.

You'd wish to say that night your dreams came easier, but instead, you felt your thoughts going in circles as fast as a hurricane's, pouring rain of ideas and possible paths to enter between the storm that was starting to form ahead.

The next day, Viktor and you took the day off due to a sudden snowfall that had covered the roads back to the metropolis.

You were ready to start with the preparations of your upcoming plan, yet alas, you knew you needed to visit someone in person to strike ideas first, especially after all the time you spent apart.

He knocked on your bedroom to give you a small plant pot on the side of your hand right after having breakfast together, the ambiance still charged with the unprompted kiss from last night.

“You can use soil from the plants on the balcony," Viktor told you, his cane tapping the floor. “I will go to buy some more later. Ah—yes, I put some of Rio’s seed peels at the bottom, like compost.”

Thanking him, you waited to hear his bedroom door close before emerging toward the living room, scooting to see if Rio was free before opening the balcony door, shivers running down your spine with the sudden freezing air blowing across your face.

“It’s too cold to put you outside,” you said to no one in particular, because the seed was inside your bedroom, over the nightstand. The sky was pure grey, and white snow starting to get dirty with the kids and the cars as the suburbs started to stir with life.

Then, you settled the little pot by the window, making a small hole in the middle with your finger, plopping the little, lonely seed inside, and then lovingly covering it with the black soil that was starting to make your fingers grow cold. It was humid already, so you let it be.

You hoped the plant would survive the inclement weather, that perhaps, once it grew bigger, you could get it another, bigger pot.

The only thing you could do was wait—perhaps the most terrifying thing in a world you were convinced would fail you.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

The House of Usher and the cardinal virtues

I thought to myself it's no good to whine about slotting characters into boring reductive categories without a good rebutal, so here's a dose of slightly more interesting archetypes.

Prospero reflects the cardinal virtue of Diligence and its mirror the sin of Sloth ("But he has an orgy so it has to be lust," by god you're so boring) He is the only Usher who tries to make anything of value. When Camille goes on her little spiel about how Ushers don't make stuff, she's not wrong. Perry got pretty ruthlessly shot down when he was presenting his ideas for trying to make value and start a night club chain, rather than just taking credit for someone else's work like all of his siblings and his dad. But he was at least trying. His drive to prove himself and gain respect is how he gets himself into the whole mess. However, it is the act of not doing his due diligence that kills him.

Camille has an interesting one because while breaking into a lab facility to expose mistreatment of animals would seem like the cardinal virtue of kindness, she's only there to get one over on her sister. The inverse of Kindness is Envy, and for as important as her role is as the family spin doctor, Camille is valued the least. Everyone suspects Perry when they hear about an informant, but that's because he's an idiot baby. Victurine is useful with her heart mesh implant, Napoleon took the role of the "chill fun sibling", and the other two are original Ushers, so Camille is left as the unfavored child.

Napoleon tried to buy his way out of his problem with Charity. He could have come home with a different cat entirely and told his boyfriend he was looking in shelters for Pluto and accidentally fell in love. Name it Mars, let the boyfriend chalk it up to a weird grief response. Bummer Pluto never came home. Verna would have had him trip over the thing on the stairs in the middle of the night and that would have been that. Instead, everything was transactional as he maximized what he could get out of his relationships for the least amount of effort. The boyfriend can live with him, the boyfriends cat can move in too, but as soon as that becomes even the slightest bit more effort (like when boyfriend wants to meet the family, or curb the drug use, or the cat brings home a dead thing) Napoleon wants it gone from his life.

Victurine likewise could have had a painless clean death had she mustered up the Humility to say that the device didn't work. Her demise, unlike her younger siblings, was a compilation of smaller shitty decisions and white lies. She could even recognize that each choice was morally wrong, but it was little choices that were easier to brush off. A dead monkey, a foraged signature, a rightfully concerned patient reassured with platitudes. Even before she was scrubbing blood off the floor to Bonnie Tyler, her inability to admit her choices were flawed was getting her in trouble.

Tamralane with her perfectly manicured curated life, is the one to take Temperance to its furthest extreme. I think it was Atwood who wrote about women and the internal voyeur to preform for, but I'm not going to Google it for a post about horror characters losing their minds and dying horribly. She lives under a personal panopticon of her own expectations and can never allow herself to experience her own life lest she fall short. Her wealth rather than mitigating this exacerbates the issue, giving her access to any and every distance she could possibly want. Death by mirrors isn't so much her going insane as it is the culmination of the life shes built for herself.

(Plus, I know her lonely evening was meant to be ~spooky~ but babe, that is literally just ADHD. Can't remember where you put the thing? Can't remember doing the thing? CAN'T SLEEP?! DOES EVERYONE HATE YOU AND THINK YOU'RE AN INSANE BITCH FOR PERFECTLY VALID REASONS?! Looks like Adderall for you).

Fraudrick. You dickwad. No Patience to allow your very injured and traumatized wife explain herself. The inverse of Patience is Wrath. Demonstrated that one in spades. I'm on Verna's side on this one. Pliers, really?

(His wife's name is fucking Mori. As in momento mori.)

Which leaves Madeline and Rodrick. What's a Gothic horror story without some really fucking weird and unsettling sibling dynamic? Dull, that's what. Anyway, never letting anything touch them or impede them in their lust for power and wealth offers a strange sort of Chastity. There's no love, not for the kids or Annabelle Lee that could touch them, no moral they wouldn't overturn, no value they wouldn't abandon. Madeline values her freedom above all else but she spent her life bound to her brother. They wouldn't even spare each other in ruthless pursuit of just a little more power.

So yeah, bummer for August Dupain that he wound up against the most supernaturally fucked up family that ever lived.

[ducknotinarow]

💭 for all Shredders: Technology, Flowers, Regret, Change, and Dreams

| send 💭 + topic for a head cannon on

"Look out for Shredder, I didn't spend use in this identity to not still carry terror."

| Technology |

"Even with how behind the earth and it beings are the tech available has proven of use."

Shredder being from a more advance species is often annoyed by how behind the earth tech can feel to him at times. Always aware that there is something better out in space that can more achieve what he needs and wants. Often Shredder finds himself seeking out those who are good with it and often it's why Stockmen had failed to live to his expectations with how often he fails. To Shredder he is all talk he ended up liking Chaplin because he held better results in the end and never once went around his back. If your someone skilled when it comes to technology? you will be on his radar. Like certain purple banded turtles.

Shredder himself dose understand it but he's not someone who can make it himself. It very much how we can understand our own modern tech but don't me we know how to manipulate it and such like those in engineering and such can. Why he tends to seek out more scientific uses he truly sees the potential in it.

| Flowers |

"Useless, they hardly last once in bloom and hold no value. Even the most beautiful blossom with soon wilt"

Flowers often represent life and it's cycles so for someone who well doesn't fully care about the lives of others of course he isn't going to care about the life of a plant either. But that one mention of one beautiful flower? I don't care what anyone wants to say Shredder had a soft spot for Karai. He didn't hold a reason to take in this orphan girl and raise her as his own. You can understand why he has people like Hun under his control and such. But Karai? sure she fills in a role to be his heir so he can in a way keep up his ruse through her but he trusted Karai a lot even with his secret of being an utrom. When She was kidnapped by Bishop? Shredder literally went ballistic for him about it? A guy who tries to act like he doesn't care about anyone? hell Hun was getting a chance to be back on his good side if he got her back and he was pretty pissed at him.

| Regret |

"Turtles"

Lets be honest Shredder maybe would have achieved a lot of his goals if them dang turtles never got involved but as the show went to show us many times over? that wouldn't be the case. Shredder and the Turtles are connected in a way. They created each other nearly you could even say if it wasn't for Shredder the turtles wouldn't be where they are now. Dude created his own fail safe u-u even after he is gone the turtles are still having to deal with any Shredder that comes back thats a connection that I feel none of them like to think about however u-u

| Change |

"Change comes and goes and sometimes we must embrace those changes for our goals."

I don't see shredder as someone who can change himself seeing how the show makes out the spirt of Shredder alone as someone who holds on to ambitions and obsessions after all. It's often his own down fall the only change he tends to take well is anything that can be of use to him. Be he's lived a long time and has learned to work with the changes of the world around him. From being in charge of a ninja clan to this big shot millionaire in New York who had the mayor in his pocket thanks to his wealth? A changing environment sure but personally no he can not. bloodthirsty, insane, selfish, wrathful, sadistic, and relentless. He hates anyone who challenges, impedes, or otherwise wrongs him holding grudges long after the fact

| Dreams |

"I only dream for my conquests!"

As shown he really is mostly in for his own gain here, Shredder someone who takes and demands control and has been easily able to get it. Through resources or pure respect even sometimes fear Shredder simply looks for control and I feel this is what lead him being the villain he is now. He was a criminal among his own race yes I know I should guess call him Ch'rell but dude went so far into making himself in Shredder I just XD look I aint dead naming him okay. He is embodiment of the stereotypical megalomaniac of course he's simply seeking anything that puts him in the position he feel fits him.

"Don't waste my time."

| Technology |

"It can have it's uses but doesn't often have much against transitional or hands on approaches"

Unlike the 03 version Oroku is very much someone still set in the ways he grew up. His clan didn't seem to take much of modern conveniences, and where He could see some use he tends to avoid resorting to tech to often least till Karai brought forward a kranng bot and he saw that they could be made of use for the clan. Even bringing in baxter to be his primary tech support so to speak. So he did learn to see how technology can benfit him even going so far as to make use of the mutagen from the kranng as well, seeing how he is willing to mutant himself later. He dose also see the benefits of more than just Tech seeing how he goes about securing resources for even bio level use.

| Flowers |

"She..loved Jasmine flowers."

Even Shredder head of the foot clan isn't immune to human emotions as much as he tries to be. My toxic trait is I do feel he truly loved Shen but like in many other times in this show? His hate for Yoshi was always stronger and even impacts later relationships like his kids. As twisted and wrong people may see it he did love and care about Karai. And I extend this to Casey and Angle for the Foot au as well. He dose care when Yoshi was thought long gone and dead and all he had to worry about was the future of his clan? I feel like their lives weren't as bad. Yeah they didn't get normal childhoods and were growing up in an environment full of love either. He very much raised weapons over children.

I feel he saw things in his kids and did try to parent them but it was alway in this mind set harsh parenting, he was strict, abuse would be there to. Karai was throw into a pit of snakes to overcome her fear and Casey with a fear of Rats? In his mind its all to make them strong to face this world that will try and take them down. I feel he was nicer when they were younger, considering Karai's memories.

But unfountetly he learned Yoshi was alive and I feel things got worse after that. And feel these once good memories I'd why it's hard for the kids to fully turn against shredder till given a good reason. In cannon it was karai learning Yoshi was her dad for example.

| Regret |

"Being to soft on my children."

To Shredder he was to soft on his kids and that's what allowed any chance for them to go against him. He turly felt he was setting them up for success well ignoring giving them some very basic needs none of them really had fulfilled. He just never met if he could let got of his obsession maybe he would have been better and then his son would been more enemies to lovers situation xD.

He only disappointed in Casey because he went against him and thier family. He turly dose think casey has potential and sees himself in his son not once had he ever seen casey as not his son. Even if he dose tend to put casey below Karai this is connected to his obsession however u_u. Knowing his son was broken down by something as simple as love? Pretty familiar isn't it?

| Change |

"Only the weak accept a need to change."

This man would literally let the world end then let go of his hate for Yoshi. So bi he isn't going to change no one is enough for him to change for not even his kids. He will always hate more than he loves he can't ever let go of that he's never fully let love in to change him re refuses to change u_u which is a shame I still think he'd be a decent dad and spoil his kids if he could but that's my toxic trait uwu.

| Dreams |

"Mostly I dream of the future of my clan."

Shredder man be old school but from stuff we get to see he had dipped into other avenues of bussniess running a company in Japan even that he sometimes has to go back and check in on. Shredder dreams for Karai to take over once he finally passes on. So je wants everything in order why he's so hard on her (and casey for the au, as stated he thinks casey would basically take on Tiger Claws role, being in charge if the ninja in the clans training and such. I can't personally say for Angle since she baby but he has trust funds and such for each kid set up as well.)

The foot Clan is one of his priorities and he wants it to contuine to succeed especially it it means stomping out the Hamato Clan.

[mariacallous]

Of all the charges laid at the door of Harry and Meghan, we can reasonably discount the idea that being paid by Netflix is the sin to end all sins. I’m not sure how people think the British royal family have historically accrued their vast wealth, but a contract with a streaming giant is right down the list of money-spinning horrors.

Let’s face it, there are a lot worse ways to lay your hands on a reported £88m in today’s money. No one dissolved the monasteries, here. No one ran a foreign country as an extraction colony. Looting-wise, no one did much beyond taking a call from telly warlord Ted Sarandos and thinking: yes please. This is the market value of my truth.

Anyway, on with the show. Again. I can’t help feeling the Sussexes increasingly come across as a pair of ancient mariners with a TV contract, condemned to tell their tale to everyone they meet. After this latest exhaustive (and fairly exhausting) six-parter, many will now feel they have seen enough of the albatross in question, which has been hung around the neck either of the Sussexes or the news media, depending on to whom you speak. Both sides of this forever war seem locked in an endless cycle of tale-telling, which will ultimately have to be moved on from. Or not, if it keeps being lucrative for both sides (of which more shortly).

Despite the work that has gone into crafting the impression of a further banquet of revelations, the Sussexes really only have one story to tell. Admittedly, it’s a dramatic and sensational one that has sold countless books and papers and driven online traffic and TV ratings around the world. They told it to Oprah last year, and now they are telling it again to Netflix viewers.

In some ways, there’s nothing wrong with telling the same story over and over again. John Grisham does it, though he is at least able to change the names and locations. The most successful movie stars have always repeatedly played some lightly adjusted version of their persona, on the timeworn and financially proven principle of giving the public what it wants. That’s showbiz.

The question with Meghan and Harry is how long it can go on after this latest rather repetitive instalment – or, indeed, how long anyone focused on new horizons really wishes to be trapped in this same old cycle. The cycle is certainly of the vicious variety. The Sussexes publicly say something; the papers pounce on it and make merry hell with it for days or weeks; some drama-queen palace courtier makes a disparaging off-the-record comment; a new grievance is thereby minted on which the Sussexes will soon publicly say something. Repeat cycle.

But is this just going to be it, for ever? The returns look likely to be diminishing. It will – surely? – eventually become incredibly boring. Indeed, for many, it already has, with even some sympathisers now judging that things could be a lot worse. Then again, I’m not sure they have the cost of living crisis in Montecito.

Despite it being a cliche, I do think one of the soundest pieces of advice is that the best revenge is a good life. However, the more classic form of revenge, which the Sussexes are pursuing, is much more lucrative. For all their talk of escape, they are still locked in a destructively symbiotic relationship with their detractors. “You shut up!” “No, YOU shut up!”

Crucially, though, their detractors also have a choice, which is to leave the entire thing alone. We do, after all, know this story now, and pretending that unignorable news is being made is just something you tell yourself as a fig leaf to keep running it all, at remorseless length, because it sells papers and drives traffic and engagement. But hey – everyone’s on the take.

As for the consumers of the endless psychodrama, there is little so enduring as the public’s unwillingness to see its part in all of this. A few years ago, Prince William and his brother participated in a documentary about their mother, in which they recalled the scenes in the wake of Princess Diana’s death, when the children were famously forced out in public to view tributes and observe the crowds. “People wanted to grab us, touch us,” remembered William. “They were shouting, wailing, literally wailing at us, throwing flowers, and yelling, sobbing, breaking down – people fainted and collapsed. It was a very alien environment.”

Alien is a kind way of putting it. Those people behaved weirdly and appallingly, yet would never dream of recognising their behaviour as such. Many of them are the same people now howling about the Sussexes, the same people who absolutely hoovered up the intrusive coverage of Diana, the same people who then pretended to be disgusted by it all after she died. The same people who demanded the late Queen leave off comforting her young grandsons at Balmoral, despite the fact they’d lost their mother, and come back to London to … what? Comfort them? Grow up.

But then a lot of people love all this stuff, whether or not they care to admit it. They love the drama, love to take it personally, love to get angry about it, love to act as if they know the family, love to paw bereaved children, love to comment, love the whole endless shooting match. Don’t get me wrong – I too am a grateful beneficiary, given I’ve just got another column out of it. But it all cuts both ways. A disapproving and enraged market is still a market. Whatever you think of Meghan and Harry and their truth, it’s difficult not to judge that much of the British public has a long, long way to go before it faces up to its own.

[gwarden123]

That twelve thousand note post going around about startups like Uber and Airbnb jacking up prices because they've successfully monopolised their markets is wrong. Sort of.

There are sort of two factors why there have been a proliferation of tech startups. Maybe three, if you count Saudi Arabia investing money in the entertainment sector, so it has something going for it when the oil runs out. One, tech companies have experienced enormous growth*. Not all tech companies, but companies like Apple and Microsoft have gone from things that were started in their founders' garages to having share prices of $171 and $420 respectively.

Number two is that interest rates were very low after the 2008 financial crash. From 2009 to 2017 US interest rates were less than a percent. In 2014 and 2016 Europe and Japan respectively implemented negative interest rates to stimulate growth. It became very, very cheap to take out a loan in the hopes that your new venture would turn a profit and become a stable, successful company without having to worry about a ruinous level of debt. Remember that the conventional wisdom is that businesses are wealth generators and job creators.

So, it can be very attractive to put your or your client's money into a nascent tech company, because the potential returns are so high. To the moon, you might say. Whether a company is making a profit or not doesn't matter. The fact that they're growing is important, and if they can just expand enough, if they just take on another loan and expand into new markets, then maybe they can become successful and make all their investors very rich.

But interest rates are not below one percent anymore. Even though they took quite a steep dip during covid, interest rates have been on the rise since 2016. Interest rate hikes are typically used to cool inflation and while interest rates are expected to come down soon (initially projected to be at the beginning of the year, but now expected in the second half of the year due to higher than expected inflation numbers) they aren't going to come down to pre-2016 numbers. Not yet anyway.

So, companies like Uber and Airbnb have to make a profit now. Having pushed out other competitors doesn't hurt, although having a large footprint can also be very expensive. Notice all the layoffs many tech companies have been having for the past few years. And companies are beholden to their shareholders to give them a return on their investment. So they jack up the prices.

*As a side note, this is why some investment companies like to put money into emerging markets. Because the value of what they're buying, so to speak, is so low, the potential growth they might achieve is much higher. While Disney ($122 a share) might offer more stable and assured growth, they're not going to double their value. It's much easier to go from $1 to $2, than it is to go from $122 to $244.

[selflessanatta]

A Special Needs Parent’s Final Bequest, http://selflessanatta.com/a-special-needs-parents-final-bequest/

New Post has been published on http://selflessanatta.com/a-special-needs-parents-final-bequest/

A Special Needs Parent’s Final Bequest

Photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash

To my Son:

You were born different.

I wanted you to be like the others. I wanted to change you.

I did not accept you for who you were.

I’m sorry.

I was wrong, hurtfully wrong, and I wish I’d been wiser.

I apologize for all the ways I failed you, large and small.

I love you.

My only wish for you is that you remain happy and free from suffering.

That’s always been my wish, even in those times when I lacked the wisdom to act on it.

I’m thankful for you and the happiness you brought me.

It took me time and tears to appreciate your unique qualities.

The fault was in me; I needed to change. When I accepted you wholeheartedly exactly as you were, I no longer wanted to change you.

Only then, I fully appreciated the joy you brought to my life.

I’m sorry for the wasted years when I rejected even a small part of you.

I was a fool.

Every day, you allowed me to serve as the agent of your will in the world.

In serving you wisely, I hope, I found the boundless joy of giving, unfettered by fear of exploitation, a pure joy, deeply satisfying.

When you grew into a man, you became my best friend and constant companion.

You are fun and funny, entertaining me with your smile.

You are loyal, devoted, and loving, and I always felt you sincerely appreciated the time and love I poured into you.

You became a buoyant, playful, deliriously happy man.

Your character expresses itself through giving, acceptance, affection, and your burning desire to help others.

You embody all that I fell short of. I admire you, and I deeply respect the man you became.

I gave you all the years of love and support that I could.

In devoting myself to you, Life revealed a hidden path to Love that few are privileged to travel — a path only open to me because of you.

I am blessed to have a son like you. I’m thankful you were so patient while I found my way to you.

The time is coming soon when I will not be there to care for you, hug you, or love you. I know you will miss my companionship.

Whatever remains of me will long to be with you again.

Do not fear the changes in your life after I’m gone.

I lived with that fear and prepared for this change so that you will be well cared for.

The world is full of good people, and I arranged affairs to ensure your remaining time is full of caregivers who will be kind and loving, putting your needs and wants first.

And my deepest hope was that someone will love you enough to hug you like I did.

Everyone deserves the affection of a simple, loving hug.

As my last bequest, I give you the only thing of value I have left to offer.

During my life, if I gave more than I took, if I accumulated any wealth of merit or goodwill, if my life produced anything of intangible value at all, I tender all my emotional wealth to you and the caregivers who will provide for you after I’m gone.

By surrendering all my merit and goodness to you at my death, only my foibles will go with me.

Without goodness, I may be judged harshly by God, or I may reincarnate as a honey bee to learn the joy of service to others all over again.

Whatever price I paid in the afterlife, I gladly paid it, my son, to ensure the rest of your life is full of joy, love, good times, and warm hugs.

Author and son

~~wink~~

Anatta

[moneflower]

A Spring Never Coming

—------

Synopsis: Children are often the light in the relationship for parents to keep moving forward, despite the hardships and sacrifices that follow being one. As the saying goes, “all it takes is just one small change to change your life.”

But what happens when that light is snuffed out? Where do we go from there, and if so, is it possible to move on.

—------------------------------------

Opening Notes: For my first one it will be focused on two characters in the BSD world that I believe have an interesting dynamic to their real life counterparts and to the storyline: Fitzgerald, Nakahara, and minor parts of Oguri if you squint closely.

This will be a two-piece coinciding work: a mini analysis and creative work. The second part will be formatted in a poem-like structure in dedication to our favorite poet, Chuuya Nakahara- plus it’s more digestible that way.

Don’t worry if poems aren’t your thing because I’ll try to simplify it as much as I can without too many hidden metaphors or symbolism. It will all come from the heart, which I believe everyone to a certain extent is capable of feeling, right?

—-----------------------------------

Warnings: Below contains contents of implied death, loss of a loved one, and grieving - mostly angtsy stuff.

—-----------------------

In the context of children, we can say that in the world of BSD it’s quite lenient and loose in terms of laws and regulations regarding minors. But besides that, Asagari seems to be adding a lot of hidden ironies that the characters and real-life counterparts have.

First is Fitzgareld and his goal to find ‘the book’ to save his daughter. If you think this is sad, then as bearer of bad news: Chuuya, the author died without any offspring. I mean, he did have some, but they didn’t live long enough to carry on the bloodline.

His well known piece of work: ‘Spring May Never Come,’ explores this with his first son who unfortunately didn’t survive tuberculosis; the same very disease that killed his second infant son not long after, him, and many authors that are now characters of BSD.

Real life Fitzgerald had an only child who lived a pretty long life according to news articles that I read so I wonder if this tiny detail is a homage to the japanese author or added in for the sake of plot.

He did at one point spend all of his life savings after the success of his well known: Great Gatsby - that much is true, canon and real life. But the fact that his ability stems from capitalism, something explored upon in ‘The Great Gatsby’ hits the jackpot for me.

—-----------------------

Lies Told in April

by Cerueusnight

-

Spring comes bearing wealth

such as flowers and fruits.

Like children is to mothers,

it keeps on giving

until it gives no more.

-

Some claim to bless

and revael in joy,

soon winter will be over

and the sun will rise.

-

Birds learn how to fly,

animals sprout from their burrows,

and soon they will be gone,

as if, leaving home for the first time.

-

Yet they lie,

for a season that claims to give

it takes until there’s no more.

Warmth feels like frost,

snow never melts.

The sun sets further,

until orange fades into black.

-

One unbefitting of spring,

yet stays true to it’s name:

a season of darkness

to remind those who left again.

A number that adds,

losing it’s value,

birthdays left behind,

and parents griveing alone.

-

A house filled with laugther

is now filled with silence.

From unfinished paintings,

half scribbled walls,

toys tidely kept in a corner

in hopes they will untidy themselves.

-

Yet days turn into years

and nothing seems to change:

from unbothered rooms, a kitchen left clean

there’s no one around,

no one to cry, laugh, or smile

at least anymore.

-

Winter turns into spring.

Children’s clothes grow to dress,

suits, and ties.

One for their graduation,

coming of age,

weddings of the future,

yet, despite silent whimpers

it continues to grow.

-

From birth to death

of clothing that will never be worn

because their owner has left,

an owner no longer here.

My spring, my youth.

—---------------------------

A/N: This is just the surface of the iceberg to the tragedy in which bsd explores. Besides loss, the themes of parental figures and children are often brought up but never explored, so I hope I gave you another perspective.

Fitzgerald-Chuuya, A Spring Never Coming

Analysis: Spring May Never Come

Oneshot: Lies Told in April

[amor-immortalem]

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch.6

Previous

Warnings: major gaslighting, Lucifer being a horrible older brother, controlling behaviour, manipulation

if you want to be tagged please let me know or if you're already tagged and want me to stop tagging you let me know as well

taglist: @mediocredetective @it-hurts-when-i-blink

A/N: I don’t think I ever mentioned or implied it, but I wrote this with the intention of it being an AU.

The end of the work day was one of Arella’s favorite parts of the day- not because she didn’t like her job. It was quite the opposite actually. No, the reason the end of her shift was her favorite part of her day was getting to go home to Mammon and the home they had made together. And today she had special news for her beloved demon.

“Mam, I’m home!” The human calls as she rushes through the door, hanging her purse on the coat rack next to the door and her keys on the key rack next to that. “Mammon...?” When she gets no response to her calls, she sets about the house looking for the white-haired demon. It was odd for him not to meet her at the door.

She thought maybe he was just taking a nap so her first stop was their bedroom but when she didn’t find him there, or any place else she looked for that matter, she grew confused. Maybe he had just gone out for something- she did leave him money during the day in case he thought of something they needed from the store or anything of that nature, but his human world cell phone he had in place of the D.D.D. that he’d left at the House of Lamentation was sitting on their bedside table. Had he just forgotten it at home? Arella half expected Mammon to come walking through the door any minute now.

When there was a knock at the door, she went to go investigate it. She opened the door and to her surprise, Solomon standing there.

“Solomon? Well, this is a surprise.” She looks at him wide-eyed. “You didn’t say anything about coming to visit.”

“Sorry, I know it’s spur of the moment. Is Mammon home?” The sorcerer looks almost worried- like he’d been rushing to get here. “I text you earlier to warn you but you must’ve still been at work.”

“N.. No. I think he went out to get something- wait did you say warn?”

“Lucifer found you two a couple months ago. He’s been watching ever since. If Mammon’s not here then he must’ve made his move while you were away...”

Arella’s jaw dropped. He had found them? How? She’d been so careful but it just wasn’t enough apparently. She turned on her heels and marched in the house proper.

“Arella, what are you doing?” the silver-haired male follows after her.

“What do you think? I’m going to the Devildom to get my boyfriend back and give Lucifer a piece of my mind.”

“Arella wait. You can’t.”

“I think I can. It’s not like he can actually kill me- not when I hold a pact over him.”

“No, Arella, I mean you literally cannot. You’ve been banned from the Devildom for the foreseeable future.”

“I’ve what now?”

--------------------------------------------

It's only been a few hours since Lucifer forced Mammon to come home and he was miserable every minute of it. His brothers save for the eldest were all at school for the time being. He figured once they came home, they would laugh at him- at the way he thought he could leave them behind for his own selfish happiness. He plans on hiding away in his room for the rest of the night in silent protest. He’d stay here in this room forever if that would mean that his older brother would see how unhappy he was- but really, when has Lucifer ever cared about what made him happy. He wondered if any of his brothers would come looking for him when they got home.

--------------------------------------------

As dinnertime came around, the brothers had gathered around the table. It had been Beel’s turn for dinner duty so he got to decide their meal tonight. It was home-made ramen- Mammon's favorite- as a sort of show of good will. They all knew that the reason their brother had taken so long to come back from the human world that he had to be escorted back by force was because he was genuinely happier with the human than he was with them, but as a few minutes turned into thirty, a couple of them exchanged worried looks. Asmo placed napkin over the top of Mammon’s bowl so the food wouldn’t get cold when even more time passed and Mammon still hadn’t shown his face.

The Avatar of Greed wouldn’t join them until it was Lucifer who escorted him to the table, tugging Mammon by the arm like a father dragging his unruly child off for a scolding.

“Everyone, welcome our precious brother back.” He gave their brother a pat on the shoulder before going to take his seat. “Make sure he remembers how much we value his place in this family. How much we love him. He seems to be a little confused.”

The others looked between each other before looking toward the Avatar of Greed.

“’m not confused. I wanna go home... back ta where I belong.” The white-haired demon’s voice is quiet.

“Of course you are. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re already at home and in the one and only place you belong.” Lucifer picked up his chop sticks as he began to eat. He didn’t need to say it but the look he shot Mammon relayed it perfectly: ‘under my thumb,’

And it’s at this point the rest of the brothers turn to their own bowls, realizing that this is why none of them dared to step a foot out the line Lucifer had so meticulously constructed for them. This was the worst kind of punishment.

--------------------------------------------

The following three months were just as horrible for Mammon as that first day back. While his brothers hadn’t been particularly nasty to him, their presence was beginning to feel suffocating. One of them was always in his room trying to get him to do something with them- at least they were trying to be better. The only one he really took up the offer on was Satan who offered to study with him to get his grades back up because it was a necessity.

What was worse, Mammon couldn’t leave the house without constant monitoring from Lucifer. If he was at RAD, Lucifer was never out of ear shot. If he went out for a walk just to get some fresh air, Lucifer’s familiars were there to follow him until he returned back to the House of Lamentation. Mammon couldn’t even spend time in the Aviary with his crows- the only creatures that brought him some semblance of happiness- without the Avatar of Pride being more than a few yards off. He couldn’t go on like this much longer and still expect to remain sound of mind. It was overbearing, to put it mildly.

He had seen Solomon a few times in the halls at school. He wanted to talk to him- to see how Arella was doing, to relay the message that he was doing alright but he missed her. And the sorcerer looked like he wanted to give him something, often pulling out a white envelope for him, but each time the pair was interrupted by none other than the Avatar of Pride. He would confiscate the envelope from the silver-haired human and go as far as to burn it in front of Mammon with the coldest look in his eyes before escorting him to their next class together.

“Lucifer, please, jus’ let me read one letter. Just one, please?” Mammon pleads as they walked together after the latest letter burning incident. “I just wanna know how she’s doin’. Is that too much to ask?”

“No.” His voice is stern. “Mammon, can’t you see how bad she is for you? Look how unhappy you are now as opposed to before Arella came into your life. Back then you knew we loved you. She’s the one who put those outlandish ideas in your head so she could separate you from us. Arella played tricks on you. She didn’t take you away from us because she loved you, she wanted to use you- take advantage of you and your abilities.”

“No...” He takes a step back from his older brother, “No, ‘Rella wouldn’t do that. She loves me.”

“Does she though?”

“What?”

“Well, you yourself said her primary sin was greed, didn’t you? One of the benefits of keeping herself in your good graces is boundless wealth- we all know that. If you were in that position isn’t that what you would do?”

“Not that. I’d never mess with a person’s feelin’s for my own gain.”

“Mammon,” Lucifer’s voice is soft and firm as he placed a comforting hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Have I ever lied to you unless it was to protect you?”

“No...” the white-haired demon says quietly. “Ya haven’t.”

“Then why would I choose to lie to you- my precious little brother- now?” He asks.

“I don’t know...”

“I wouldn’t. Look at you now. You’re so worked up over one insignificant, greedy human. Forget about her so you’ll feel better. I know this is a lot to realize so suddenly, would you like to go home and lie down for a bit?”

Mammon only nods as the eldest smiles softly and ruffles his hair just like he did when Mammon was small back when they were angels in the Celestial Realm.

“It hurts now, but you’ll be alright, Mams. You have your brothers. That’s all you need.”

Watching from behind the corner, Asmodeus’ eyes widened in horror. They’d heard the entirety of that exchange between their older brothers and they were in shock. As soon as the pair had gone, the strawberry-blonde-haired demon took off to demand an audience with Diavolo. Lucifer, in his attempt to keep Mammon under his control, was going far off the deep end.

--------------------------------------------

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[hotgirltarot]

Pick-a-Card: What will be a major obstacle this Mercury Retrograde ☿ and how can you overcome it? 🐆🐝🐬

What's good, Baddies? Welcome to another Pick-A-Card! This PAC is about what the upcoming Mercury Retrograde (September 27th- October 18th) will bring up for you and how to handle it.

Pile 1: Cheetah 🐆 - Pile 2: Bee 🐝 - Pile 3: Dolphin 🐬

To pick a pile, you can meditate, intuitively choose one or pick whichever crystal is calling out to you. This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Please only take what resonates & leave what does not. If you like your reading and want to support our page, tips are appreciated at $DejaWash19 on Cashapp or Deja-Washington on Venmo!

Reblog to help others master mercury retrograde!

Pile 1: Cheetah 🐆

Pile 1 is for the people who are most comfortable in situations where they are in control. They thrive in their own world while feeling lost when they are outside of it. One major theme of this Mercury retrograde will be your relationships with others. Your connection to others, whether it be friendships, business partners, relationships or marriage will be affected. Any major issues or tensions from the past that you or they may have swept under the rug will be brought to the light. You must ask yourself: Am I feeling disconnected from any people in my life? Am I growing away from limiting relationships? Are my relationships an even push and pull? Are the people in my life bringing value to me? Mercury retrograde is here show you that you have been living in an illusion in some of your personal relationships. No more time for empty conversations or entertaining people that are not on the same vibration as you; this is a time of evolution and transformation.

We are picking on 2 types of energies:

1. Some people who need a person as a reason for them to grow, because they don't think they deserve to be their own priority. You have to do things in life for yourself, if you choose to heal for someone so that you can have a better relationship with them won't work. You have to do it for yourself because you are worthy enough to be the reason and you care about yourself enough. Waiting for someone to guess what you're going through and come and save you from your mind will make you lose hope. 2. Some people who give up human interaction and just isolate. You need to be more open and interact with people, don't give up as soon as something doesn't go the way you planned. Some things require time to grow especially when it comes to relationships/friendships. Don't be afraid to ask for help. Don't choose to isolate yourself and let others' emotions, opinions about you stop you from all the beautiful things that you are capable of achieving in this lifetime.

You have the power to change. Don’t dwell on the past or on what could have been. Look forward and keep going; it’s not over yet. Just because some people may leave your life, doesn’t make your life any less fulfilling. Life continues and you are being given the opportunity to grow, experience new things, and evolve. After it is all said and done, you will realize that the people that have left your life brought little or no value to you at all. You are not meant to be a follower in this lifetime; you are a leader, a visionary, an artist, and a dreamer. Your Spiritual Team wants you to know that you are protected, divinely guided and it's safe for you to share your art/ideas & yourself with the world. All you have to do is to gather the courage to pave a new path for yourself and trust your visions before they become reality. Don’t look for outside validation for your work or creative projects, allow them to just exist. When you allow the negative Nancies and keyboard critics to impact your self-worth, it takes the joy out of creating. A major piece of advice is to be bold during this mercury retrograde. Follow your heart and emotions and listen to what your gut is telling you about the people in your life. Avoid being reckless, but show the world what you’re made of!

Pile 2: Bee 🐝

Pile 2 is for the people who are sometimes so trusting in their spirituality that they forget to also be practical. This mercury retrograde will show you the importance of having practicality & reality instead of just having your head in the clouds. This retrograde will force you to make more effort to move towards your goals and the more practical steps you can take, the better. It’s time to find an inner balance between your dreams and your responsibilities. Taking responsibilities means cleaning up your messes and making changes so that it does not happen again, not just hoping everything will just magically sort itself out. This mercury retrograde may also affect your 2nd house of personal finance and possessions. Think about your relationship with money; Are your thoughts and actions around money empowering or disempowering you? Do you use money as an excuse to avoid doing something? Abundance comes through gratitude, being appreciative of what you already have. Don't be fixated on the idea that rewards only come in the form of money, thinking like this will only cause you to miss the beautiful gifts that life will be offering you. You might have a feeling that your purpose is to help others and guide them, but you sacrifice so much of your time, energy, resources for others that you ignore your own needs. You are for sure the person who helps everyone and is solving their problems. However, the only thing you are doing is burdening yourself by carrying their unresolved issues and also stopping them from learning the lessons they need to learn in order to grow in this lifetime. You are being asked to look after your well-being before anyone else’s. Spirt is thanking you for being so caring but now it's time for you to relax, celebrate, and allow yourself to reap the rewards for all your positive actions and intention. Also, it is important to listen openly and respectfully to people who have different beliefs than you, open communication can start real change.

In order to get the best out of this mercury retrograde, meditate as much as possible. Meditate for relaxation, for answers and for guidance. If you are able to find the perfect balance between spirituality, positivity and practicality, you will leave mercury retrograde with new love opportunities, abundance and happiness. There are major themes of wealth, abundance and new relationships in your life. People who have chosen this pile have a desire for the finer things in life and want the best of the best; Venusian energy. If you can believe it, you can achieve it. Some opportunities you are about to be given will happen once in a lifetime, but make sure you are taking action to make it happen and not just wishing on a star.

Pile 3: Dolphin 🐬

Pile 3 is for the people who live in a more Neptunian way of life. You are imaginative, live heavily in your subconscious and fantasy world. This mercury retrograde is going to force you to grow and heal your past wounds at a rapid pace. You are being called to let go of the past. That time is over. Whatever you have been clinging on to - good or bad - is long gone. The past energy is weighing you down and it is time to break free of it. You are currently living in a state of complacency. There is lots of self-neglect and dietary imbalance in this pile. Procrastinating and choosing to live in a dream world instead of dealing with the reality of your situation. You are holding yourself back and this retrograde will shake your world until you are born again. You will go through major regeneration: a rebirth. This mercury retrograde practice being present and calling your energy back into the here and now. Music is going to be very influential in your healing; it will be a safe space for you to process your thoughts and emotions as well as raising your energy when needed. Massive healing and Chiron energy in this pile. Shedding your old skin and coming out anew. By the end of it all, you will be a different person, the star of your own world. The universe is giving you a second chance to attach new opportunities you once let slip by. Forget about the past, a new start is on its way!

Make sure you gratitude for all the things in your life that make you happy and if you need guidance through this journey listen to your soul and follow the path you are being called towards. Remember that your soul choose this journey before you started your life on Earth. This moment was destined. Don't think you are unprepared and you will be lost once you decide to take action. Your soul has been training for this moment and you will know exactly what to do when the time comes. Your Guides are assisting you in this journey and they want you to have faith in yourself. Your circumstances will soon improve and your life will get so much better, don't lose hope!

[sylverstorms]

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

[glowingbadger]

You may have a little Lorenz Prompt as promised. As a treat. Here goes~

Lorenz taking thorough notes to surprise his s/o (is it the blog owner? the reader? some random character? It doesn't matter~!) with the most lovely, romantic date imaginable based around everything they like. He wouldn't put in this much effort to TRULY impress someone, but you're worth every step and more.

Enjoy where this takes your thoughts~!

(and pls don't eat it, Tumblr)

Y'know what, I've had a shitty day and I just finished writing some darker content- so I am going to ~indulge~. Normally I try to make my Reader character as broadly relatable as possible, but today we're going with MY preferences and interests because I WANT A NICE DATE WITH LORENZ GODDAMNIT

Lorenz (FE3H) x GN Reader - perfect date

Fluff - SFW

Today simply has to be flawless- the Gloucester heir will not accept any less. Not when it comes to you. Of course, Lorenz holds himself to high standards in all things, but the thought of providing anything less than perfection for you is one that pains him to even consider. Especially now that he'd finally gotten the courage- or, rather, found the right and proper time to ask you to spend the day with him.

You approach him at the Monastery gates not long after noon that day, and find your pace slowing as you eye him before he's noticed you. Without his usual elegant set of armor, you can appreciate the way constant marching and training has toned his slender frame- and appreciate it, you most certainly do. Though he soon turns to face you, and your eyes dart back up from a rather ignoble place to meet his instead.

"You're as radiant as ever, I see," he says with a warm smile. He offers you an arm and you take it, replying with a grin,

"You've already got me for the day, Lorenz, there's no need for flattery."

"'Flattery' implies a measure of falsehood," he says with confidence, leading you towards town, "and I could never bring myself to lie to one so lovely."

As your time together proceeds, you can't help but feel that, some way, somehow, Lorenz has some kind of psychic insight into your preferences. Everywhere you turn, whatever your heart could desire is immediately available and set before you with hardly any negotiation at play. At the first flower stall you find, Lorenz takes a moment to exchange words with the owner while you admire the sprawling array of colorful blooms; and by the time he's returned, he's holding a woven crown of delicate little white flowers. With an admiring smile, he carefully places it on your head, a hand trailing down a lock of your hair as he pulls away to observe you.

With a shy grin, you perform an exaggerated curtsy, prompting Lorenz to laugh fondly and take you by the hand. He twirls you slowly under his arm, watching you all the while, then says,

"They suit you every bit as wonderfully as I'd thought."

"They're my favorites," you reply.

"I know- erm, that is- I know of a superb bakery down the block this way," Lorenz seems a bit red in the face, but you chalk that up to nerves.

He's not wrong though- this bakery is something else. The selection and quality of ingredients is on an entirely new level compared to the Monastery's dining hall, and you find yourself overwhelmed even reading down the list of items posted to the wall. By your third pass over the full range of options, the words are starting to dance in your eyes- but a warm touch at your arm shakes your focus. Lorenz leans close to be heard over the rapidly growing crowd at the bakery's counter,

"Might I make a recommendation?" you nod, and he goes on, "I happen to have it on good authority that there's an item not included on this menu that you may like. It incorporates three different treatments of Brigid cocoa, if that is of any interest to you."

Your eyes light up and you can practically feel the rich sweetness across your tongue already.

"That sounds incredible," you reply, enraptured by the very thought. When you start to ask how he'd heard of such a thing, Lorenz has already turned to speak to the worker taking orders, and your words drown among the crowd of customers. The speed at which he acquires this mythical pastry only fills your mind with more questions. How did he manage to purchase an off-menu item so quickly? Wouldn't the cost of something requiring those many luxurious imported ingredients be astronomical?

But then, Lorenz returns to your side and guides you out of the crowded shop, and the sight of the delectable chocolatey treat in his hands dashes all other thoughts from your mind. He hands it to you wrapped in a handkerchief, and you can't help but immediately plunge in for a bite.

"Mmmm-!" you wear an expression of pure bliss as your mouth fills with sweet, savory chocolate, "Oh- Lorenz, it's so good!"

When you glance up at him, he's watching you with a strangely heavy expression. Once more, his fair complexion is painted a light red. You tilt your head curiously, and he seems to resurface from whatever thoughts had taken him for the moment.

"Here- you should try some," you break off a piece and hold it up to him.

"Are- are you certain? I had intended for you to enjoy it to your heart's content," he stammers out, evidently still a bit flushed.

"I want you to get to have some too. Please?" You hate to resort to puppy eyes with him, but it's hard to argue with the results. He leans forward and accepts the piece of pastry from your hand. You don't shy away from him in the slightest, and so a brief brush of his lower lip along the tip of your finger simply can't be avoided. Lorenz does his best to move past this without acknowledgement, and you two enjoy your treat together as you take in the bustle of the town around you.

The day continues in kind, with Lorenz apparently having painstakingly arranged every element of this date from start to finish. At a local seller of antiques and luxury goods, he secures permission to view and explore rare and dazzling paintings from around the world. Here, he's rather uncharacteristically reserved. Wandering the storage area like your own personal art museum, he watches you with evident warmth as you exclaim at the rich and varied pigments, the innovative expressions of human form, and so on.

After this, he brings you to a tavern at the far end of town, where he's reserved the second floor exclusively for you two to enjoy a quiet, intimate meal together. By this point, you've finally gotten around to considering just how much gold must have gone into this singular date.

"Lorenz," you say cautiously, "are you sure it's okay to go through all of this and spend so much just for-"

He raises a hand to cut you off, then replies,

"I assure you that it is," he takes your hand in his, holding it warmly from across your private table, "wealth has no value that we ourselves do not assign to it, and I have chosen to spend it on your pleasure. I can think of no greater use for a bit of coin."

The rest of the early evening is filled with pleasant chat and the occasional subtle sweet-talk. As you discuss everything you've seen and experienced that day, Lorenz engages you with surprisingly astute comments and observations. He's always at his best when he feels permitted to simply talk with you, as one person to another, free of the pressures and expectations of his birthright that he shoulders without a thought.

The sun is steadily lowering behind the hills and walls of the surrounding town by the time you make your way back together. As you walk hand in hand watching the Monastery gates rise ahead of you, Lorenz clears his throat abruptly and says,

"If I may steal you away for just a little while longer, there was... actually someone I thought you'd like to meet."

"Oh? What an honor," you say with a smile, "Do I get any hints?"

Lorenz gives a good-natured chuckle and says,

"Only that I think you'll get along splendidly."

And of all places throughout Garreg Mach's grounds, you begin to recognize that he is leading you towards the stables. You've met Lorenz's horse before- a lovely mare with a calm and agreeable temperment. If not her, then...

"Eloise?" Lorenz calls out in a gentle voice, "Eloise, come say hello- Ellie? Come now, don't tell me you've chosen tonight to become bashful..." at his call, a svelte black cat with delicate little white paws comes trotting out to meet you. Your heart positively aches and melts at the sight of her eagerly approaching Lorenz with clear comfort and familiarity.

"Lorenz, you... have a cat?" You say with obvious disbelief.

"She's one of the Monastery's strays, to be clear," he says, "She helps with the mice in the stables. Evidently, she had become quite fond of my preferred horse- and so eventually became fond of me as well."

Fond seems an understatement- she very clearly adores him. With a chorus of happy little mews, she circles his legs and rubs against him until he crouches down to offer her his hand. As he does, a shred of parchment flutters from his pocket onto the ground. Eloise targets it like a seasoned warrior and pounces at it with gusto. With a laugh, you kneel down to retrieve whatever this paper she's captured might be.

"Now Eloise, none of that- you must behave genteel-like with guests."

As he firmly lectures the cat, you glance at the paper in your hand. Nearly every inch of it is covered in an elegant, curling script that you imagine must belong to Lorenz. It looks like a... list of some kind. As your eyes scan down the page, you begin to recognize a pattern. Your favorite flowers, favorite desserts, favorite types of books and places around town- plus, to the side, the word "cats?" underlined several times. For a moment, you simply cover your mouth to hold in a snort of laughter. Then, you come to kneel beside Lorenz as he's failing to convince his feline friend to stop swatting at his hair.

"So- you've been taking very thorough notes lately." you say, nudging his arm playfully. He turns to face you with an immediate look of panic. Lavender eyes widen and glance down to the parchment in your hand, then back to you. He visibly deflates and says,

"Goddess- you must find me such a fool-"

You press your lips firmly to his before he can say another word. With a soft noise of surprise, his eyes flutter shut and he leans into your kiss. His lips are wonderfully soft, and the subtle scent of his cologne surrounds your senses as you tilt your head to seal your lips to his more firmly. You're not certain how long you remain like this, but only the dull ache of kneeling on the dirt and the incessant sound of Eloise bapping her paw against the paper in your hand bring you back to your surroundings. When you part from him, you brush aside the silky curtain of his hair to run your hand along his face, and say,

"I had a wonderful time today, Lorenz- and it means the world to me that you put so much thought into this. But next time, you don't have to study so hard, okay?"

For a moment, he seems speechless. Then, he gives a shy chuckle.

"You have bested me yet again, it would seem. How can I ever hope to become a man worthy of you when you are ever more lovely with each passing day?"

Eloise gives an insistent chirp and rubs once more against his leg, evidently tired of distractions from the attention she feels she's owed. Your smile widens, and you scratch her ear fondly.

"I think there's at least two of us who like you just as you are, Lorenz."

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 18, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Hey OP where’s the funny header gif for this post? Sorry, it was murdered by an angst demon and the framing of these shots.

My Found Family Came to Find Me

Continuing our flashback from last time, we see Baby Wei Ying up a tree, refusing to come down because he's afraid there are dogs. Eventually he falls out of the tree, like a dumbass a child, and Yanli tries but fails to catch him. 

Unlike his grownup counterpart, Baby Wei Ying doesn't pretend he's unhurt when he is hurt. I'd like to put the change at Yu Ziyuan's door, but actually he admits to being hurt during his Gusu summer - he mimics Lan Zhan's stoicism when they're getting beaten, but it doesn't come naturally to him, and he whines a lot afterwards. 

By the time of the Animatronic Dog incident, however, he's laughing off obvious injuries that have secret trauma behind them. By the time he comes back, coreless, from the burial mounds, he won't confide in anyone about his hurts any more, except possibly Wen Qing.

Yanli carries Wei Ying, in a sequence that will be echoed much later in his life when Lan Zhan carries him (gifset here). While they head back, she tells him that Jiang Cheng has a bad temper and to ignore whatever mean things he says. This will also be echoed in the future, when Wei Wuxian says it to Lan Zhan after their argument with Jiang Cheng in the shrine.

Yanli also explains that Jiang Cheng loved his dogs and that he's been very sad since Jiang Fengmian sent them away, demonstrating once again that Jiang Fengmian is a terrible father. Yanli says that Jiang Cheng will be happy to have a friend with him, though. This kind of makes Wei Wuxian's role in Jiang Cheng's life "replacement dog."

Jiang Cheng, after getting over this particular snit, got worried about Wei Wuxian and woke up Yanli to find him, and then went wandering around in the dark like a dumbass a child, and is banged up and crying when the other two find him. Yanli encourages him to apologize to Wei Wuxian and he does, which will not happen again until the very end of the show.  

They all smile and laugh together, as Wei Ying looks to Yanli to guide him through the insanity that his life has suddenly become. 

(more behind the cut!)

They head back to Lotus Pier in a sweet montage of walking and smiling together, with Jiang Cheng carrying the world's most beautiful candle holder with the world's most wind-resistant candle in it, to light their way back. Back in the present day for a brief moment, Jiang Cheng pretends to sleep and listens to his sister insisting that the three of them should always stay together, while a single tear rolls down the side of his face.

Soup is Love, Chapter 1 of 1000

Then we head to the past again. In Jiang Cheng & Wei Ying's now-shared room, Wei Ying sits on the bed trying to figure out how to deal with his grumpy new roommate.

Wei Ying is unsure what to do when confronted with pajama game this strong. Tiny Jiang Cheng is already a fashion king. 

Then he tells Jiang Cheng he's not going to narc him out to the clan leader, since it was his own fault that he hurt his leg. This is all Jiang Cheng needs to hear to decide Wei Ying is all right, and he says that he will help Wei Ying chase away dogs in the future.  In fact, Wei Wuxian will protect Jiang Cheng from punishment basically forever, while Jiang Cheng will continue to threaten Wei Wuxian with dogs...forever.

They shake hands on their new understanding and then jump up and down laughing, Wei Ying's leg being all better now, apparently.  When Yanli arrives (carrying a tray of...can you guess? I'll let you guess), they stop jumping. Wei Ying dives in to give Jiang Cheng a little tickle/embrace in an adorable moment that would have me saying "oh, my ovaries!" if I hadn't surgically sent my ovaries to hell a few years ago.

Yanli introduces Wei Ying to the emotional and gustatorial miracle that is her lotus and ribs soup. He hesitates a long time before tucking in because he's so unused to being fed.

Consent? I Don’t Even Know Her

The flashback wraps up with Yanli conked out on the table from the drugs in the incense burner, while Wei Wuxian, who is somehow unaffected despite sitting almost as close to the smoke as she was, checks on her. Jiang Cheng and his Uggs period-appropriate sock thingies get out of bed to come stand with Wei Wuxian, and have feelings about sending Yanli away after she JUST said she doesn't want to be parted from them.

Wei Wuxian: If she didn't want us to do this, she shouldn't have signed that blanket consent-to-medical-treatment form.   Jiang Cheng: Wen Qing made me sign one of those plus a durable power of attorney, is that bad?

This episode is all about people overriding each others' agency and making massively important decisions without the consent of the people who will be affected. But in a feudal context, it's not a violation, no matter how it feels to the person being controlled. In feudal life, your body belongs to your lord -- your sect leader, in the world of CQL. Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng's choices are overridden by their clan leader's final command to Wei Wuxian.  Wei Wuxian's core is arguably Jiang Fengmian's property--Wei Wuxian certainly sees it that way, just as his hand was Yu Ziyuan's to take if she wished.  

The brothers tenderly tuck Yanli into bed in the rolly cart and hand her off to Song Lan. They talk about how important it is to get her to Lanling and that she's probably going to be mad, as they thank Song Lan for helping them. 

Yanli listens while she sleeps and, in what is becoming a trademark Jiang move, lets a single tear roll down the side of her face. Jiang Cheng points out that Yanli never gets mad at Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is like, true dat.

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

Song Lan is always so emotional about every damn thing, I love him. Here he's like OH GOD NO DON'T FORMALLY THANK ME! STOP!!!

Then he starts to ask Wei Wuxian to pass a message to Song Xingchen for him, but then decides not to say anything, making it super obvious that they fought and aren't together. 

Wei Wuxian reacts to this with confusion and distress, probably because he doesn't want to imagine ever having a breakup with his own soulmate. Which he soon will be having.  But possibly he's just upset that his OTP broke up.

After Song Lan takes off, Jiang Cheng gives Wen Qing a rude & perfunctory thank-you bow, turning away before she can return it. Wei Wuxian tells her not to take it to heart - basically everyone who deals with Jiang Cheng gets a version of the "ignore what he says" speech. She says she understands and that in his place she would have behaved worse, which is so totally not true.  

Then she asks Wei Wuxian if he's sure about the core transfer (not in so many words, because the script is being kind of being vague about it, without actually hiding what's happening). His reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then he and Jiang Cheng walk off, with Jiang Cheng giving us a rear view that had me googling Wang Zhuocheng's fashion shoots to determine if that wagon he's draggin’ is really as delightful as this belt makes it look. Alas, there is not a wealth of photographic evidence for this research, as compared to, for example, photos of Xiao Zhan's outstanding ass.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning see them off, with Wen Qing wishing they valued their lives more. Although, what she and Wen Ning are doing is massive treason, so their lives will be pretty much forfeit if they're caught, so...

The Sunshot Campaign of Like 60 Dudes

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng walk up the mountain for the whole beginning of the Sunshot campaign, which...okay. Maybe it's like Dunkirk or The Witcher where they intercut stuff that is happening in different timeframes, which is one of my least favorite new film style thingies.

You know, for a guy Wei Wuxian constantly calls "peacock," Jin Ziyuan really doesn't wear a lot of adornment; just some subtle metalwork on his belt with no dangly bits at all, and a single reasonably-sized hair crown. Compared to the extremely fancy Lan Wangji he's almost plain. We already know that Wei Wuxian is a massive hypocrite when it comes to his idea of a perfect boy, however.

So, this is the Lanling Jin army, which consists of literally 60 guys, including the ones on the stairs and Jin Zixuan and Douchebag Dad. How are they going to fight a war with this tiny group? Why do they have such a big plaza? Hasn't anybody on this production learned CGI cloning?

That’s better.

Nie Mingjue and his best bitch Baxia make quick work of the 4 Wen guys who were assigned to hold the Unclean Realm. 

Hello, Daddy Da-Ge!

Squeeee, it's Lan Wangji! He's taking back Cloud Recesses! Ooooohhh we've missed you Lan Wangji.

Look guys he's here! Look how beautiful he is. He's looking at the gate of cloud recesses and thinking thoughts that Lan Xichen or Wei Wuxian could probably see in his bewitching eyes if they were here to see him, which they aren't. But at least he is here!

....and now he's gone again. *cries*

Hares On The Mountains

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian continue roaming prettily around this pretty mountainside. The locations in this show are such eye candy. 

Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains  Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains  If I was a young lass I’d soon go a hunting

Jiang Cheng starts to have doubts about the whole Baoshan Sanren thing. Wei Wuxian's reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.  

Then we have just the tenderest blindfolding scene, (more gifs here), which is fodder for your ChengXian dreams, if you have those.

Here's a good place for a sidebar about what is and isn't incest. Whee! In the CDrama context, relationships tend to be more clearly defined than in western media. The mechanism of confession & acceptance means that people either are or are not in a romantic relationship, with few grey areas. So a character can literally say "we grew up as brother and sister, but now we are dating" and when someone looks startled they just say "there's no blood relation" and everyone is like "cool cool" and that's the new definition of the relationship.

For a strong example of this, the extremely wonderful Go Ahead is about a contemporary family in which a girl and two boys, who are not blood relatives, are all raised together, and call each other brother and sister. When they become adults, they and everyone around them expect the girl (now a woman) to marry one of the two men who have been her brothers, while whichever one she doesn't choose will carry on as her sibling. It's treated as the most natural, logical thing in the world; the only question is whether she wants to make that transition, and with whom.

Looked at through this lens, Wei Wuxian's relationships with his adoptive siblings have just as much potential to turn into romances as his relationships with his friends do, and there's nothing creepy about it. As such you can expect my meta to always get into ChengXian moments without treating it as a wrong or forbidden love. Hopeless, of course, because Jiang Cheng is such a prick the power of WangXian is stronger, but that's a different matter.

What is wrong is wearing this fantastic hat & veil combination when the most fashionable person on the mountain is blindfolded and can't see it.

In the course of this blindfolded encounter with Wen Qing, Jiang Cheng gets to kneel before a powerful woman, be led along by a length of silk that's placed in his hand, and then knocked the fuck out and operated on. He'll wake up in a hotel room in a tub full of ice with "we took your kidney" written on the mirror in lipstick, and he'll love every minute of it.  

Soundtrack: 1. Still Fighting it, by Ben Folds 2. Hares on the Mountain, by Steeleye Span

Writing Prompt: The NEXT time somebody blindfolds Jiang Cheng

[ikeromantic]

Superstition

Written for @alerialumina as part of my 500 follower celebration

Mitsuhide, Magic, Something Blue, and Surprise Me!

Approx 3500 words because I don't know how to do short sometimes

Mitsuhide did not put much faith in superstition. Neither gods nor demons nor spirits. He did appreciate the weight others put in those beliefs though. It allowed him to appear more powerful, more mysterious, than he was. So he handled inquests like these with utmost care.

Several women were missing from this farming village, and all he had to go on was a flash of blue out in the fields. He and his fiance finished interviewing the villagers earlier and that yielded no clues. None of them seemed craft enough to pull something like this off. So Mitsuhide was searching the fields with his little mouse and Kyubei was in the forest looking for any sign of people camping or passing through.

“What exactly am I looking for,” his fiance asked. She was leaned forward, staring at the trampled ground as if she might find the missing girls under an overturned rock.

Mitsuhide smiled. “Signs that someone was here - someone who isn’t normally. Anything out of place or strange or - “

“Like this?” She bent down and picked up a small stone. When she held it up, the light turned it blue like the ocean on a summer day.

He reached for her hand. His fingers disappeared for a moment in brilliant burst of blue light. It was so sudden and so bright that he couldn’t see when it was gone. Mitsuhide clamped his eyes shut against the painful radiance. “Did you see that? Are you alright, little one?”

“My lord?” Kyubei’s voice came to him from the distance. “I saw a blue -” He stopped, realizing his lord was alone. He wasn’t a man to ask the obvious.

Mitsuhide blinked away the blue spots in his vision. His eyes felt dry and hot as he rubbed at them, trying to see. The stone was gone, his little one - gone - and Kyubei was running toward him from the forest edge.

There were no footprints around, besides their own. No holes in the ground. Nothing.

When Kyubei reached his side, the vassal grabbed his shoulder for a heartbeat. As much comfort as he could give his lord - as much as Mitsuhide would accept from him. “I will organize a search party. We’ll send a message back to Azuchi requesting more men, more resources.”

“Yes, do that.” Mitsuhide knelt down, brushing his fingertips over the spot where she’d stood. His eyes worked out from that spot. There had to be something. A slight reflection caught his eye, and he reached for it. A stone. A tiny, clear stone. It felt warm in his palm. He stood and slipped in into his pocket, thoughtful.

Kyubei watched him for a moment, as if expecting some emotional reaction. When he was sure his lord would not do anything impulsive, he turned and ran toward town.

Inside, Mitsuhide was furious with himself, terrified for his beloved, and worried he would not be able to find her. But on the outside, he only smiled his thin-lipped grin. He couldn’t afford to feel any of those emotions. Not until his little mouse was back in his arms. Right now, he had to focus on what had happened. He had to find her.

The little crystal in his pocket held some answers, he felt. But what, he couldn’t begin to guess. Mitsuhide was sure that it was the source of that blue flash - though he had no evidence. Simply the lack of any other cause. It wasn’t much to go on. He could understand now why the villagers believed it was an angry spirit. Some displeased kami or wicked demon . . .

He walked slowly, lost in thought. With all the tricks he had at his disposal, this should be easy to figure out. Could it have been a gunpowder reaction? But there’d been no smell from it. And no sign after. No smoke. No flame. And that light had been blue. Bright blue.

The shadows of the trees hung over Mitsuhide the further he went, and soon his white haori was lost in the dense, green foliage. He barely noticed the leaves as they brushed his sleeves. The branches, he moved aside without thinking about it. His body moved forward while his mind worked.

The sun fell behind the tree tops and slid below the horizon. Still, Mitsuhide walked. He didn’t want to go back to the farming village until he knew how to proceed. He couldn’t bear to face Kyubei, or the reinforcements from Azuchi. But answers weren’t coming any faster in the dark. The kitsune warlord was well and truly stumped.

Weary, he finally sat under a large oak tree. He turned his face up to look at the night sky. A pattern of dark leaves and glittering gems. Mitsuhide reached for his pocket and took out the clear gem. He held it up the way his little mouse had. There was no blinding flash of blue, but the gem did begin to emit a soft, pale light.

Surprised, Mitsuhide let go.

It hung in the air above him.

Mitsuhide was not a man given to superstition. He didn’t believe in gods and demons. He didn’t put faith in magic. But he believed what he saw with his own eyes. He snatched the gem, closing his fingers around it.

Then he stood and cleared his throat. “I have your . . . magic stone, kitsune! If you want it back, you will have to make a deal with me.”

There was a rustling sound in the brush, and then a pair of glowing golden eyes. The creature slowly came closer, pushing through the branches and leaves. A small, red fox with nine brushy tails. It circled Mitsuhide, eyeing him warily.

“Are you ready to make a trade?”

The kitsune snarled, fur bristling. “Give me back my gem and I will let you live.”

Mitsuhide raised one eyebrow. “That’s not much of a deal. I think I’ll just keep it then.”

“No!” The kitsune barked and stood up on its hind legs. “It is mine and worth nothing to you. Why should you get anything of value for it?”

The warlord shrugged. “Perhaps I like the way it looks.” He gave the kitsune his best crescent moon grin. “You probably don’t have anything I want anyway.” Then he turned to walk away.

The kitsune growled and raced in front of him. Branches reached to bar his path and the gnarled roots of trees tore free of the earth to cover the path back. “I could give you wealth?”

“I have that.” Mitsuhide picked his way over the roots and pushed past the trees.

“Power?”

“Also mine. Just . . . forget it. I like this gem. And you really have nothing I’d want. You can just go back to your fleas and carrion.”

“I am . . . a god! I protect this land! The villagers ask me to bless their fields and their daughters burn prayers in my name! You can’t talk to me like that!” The kitsune grew in size and now stood eye to eye with the man.

Mitsuhide wondered if he might have overplayed his part, but he knew backing down now would be worse. “I am no farmer, you little forest-thing. Now get out of my way.”

The kitsune whined and growled, pacing ahead of Mitsuhide. Its tails lashed the air and a hum of energy followed it in the darkness. Finally it stopped and turned to face the man again. Shining white teeth and eyes like molten gold pushed close. “You are alone. I can see that much. The one thing you lack . . . is a wife. I could get one for you.”

“Could you?” Mitsuhide stopped. “I don’t think you can. You are trying to trick me.”

“No! I could get you any kind you desired. Dark haired, light haired. Soft and round or slim and flexible as a willow . . . We’ll trade! A woman for my gem.” The kitsune’s lips curled up in a hungry smile.

Mitsuhide pretended to consider this offer. “I don’t know. If you gave me a woman, she would run as soon as your magic wore off. And then I’d be alone again and without this very nice stone. Besides, I don’t know if I’d like any of them.”

The kitsune whined low in its throat. “No! No! They would stay because they want to. I don’t need magic to lure a woman, nor to get her to obey. It is because they like me!” The fur melted to a sable red kimono, as the fox changed its form to that of a human man. “What if I let you pick the one you like? And if you don’t like any of them, I could find you a new one?”

“I don’t know.” Mitsuhide tapped his chin. “What if I agree to come and look at them, to ask them questions, and all you get in exchange is my promise to consider your offer? I think that’s fair. After all, if you are telling me the truth, then we will both end up getting what we want.”

The kitsune’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t trust Mitsuhide a bit, but he believed he had the upper hand. “Alright. I’ll take you to my home. But you must promise me you’ll never share the location with anyone. If you do, your life is forfeit.”

“Agreed.” Mitsuhide knew the kitsune would not be foolish enough to show him its lair without such an arrangement. He surely wouldn’t be. Besides, he didn’t need reinforcements. This was a battle of wit, not arms.

The kitsune smiled and suddenly, the tree branches and roots withdrew to their normal positions. “Then I will agree to your offer. Once you see what I can grant you, I know you will return my gem.”

He led Mitsuhide through the forest until they reached a high cliff. The kitsune gestured for him to continue but the warlord stopped short.

“This path is not to my liking.”

“It is the fastest route,” the kitsune replied.

Mitsuhide considered. “Alright, then you go ahead and I will follow.”

The kitsune ran and leapt gracefully into the air. His feet were held aloft by his magic and he hung in the air. “Well?”

“Ah, my apologies. It appears I lack your grace. I won’t be able to take this route afterall.” Mitsuhide sighed. “I guess I will have to go back to the village alone.”

The kitsune yipped. “No! Wait! We don’t have to take this route. There is another that might be more suited to your mortal feet. I’ll show you.”

“No, that’s alright. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.” Mitsuhide waived the spirit away.

“It’s no trouble!” The kitsune hurried to walk beside the warlord, guiding him onto another path. “This route is more scenic anyway.”

Mitsuhide smiled his crescent moon smile. Clearly the fox-spirit did not understand yet that he wouldn’t be fooled by simple tricks. He let it lead him on, keeping his eyes open for the next prank.

They walked through meadows of flowers and whispering bamboo groves. Past singing brooks, and distant fire-lit villages. The kitsune finally stopped at the base of a mountain. A large stone blocked a crevasse in the rocks ahead. It was as big as a house and heavier than any one man could lift.

The fox-spirit grabbed it with his human-like hands and rolled it out of the way. He gestured for Mitsuhide to go in.

“Is this your home,” the warlord asked, peering ahead. He knew it was. The way was lit by earth-bound stars and the glow of fireflies. Tiny flowers crawled up the rock walls and in the distance, he could hear women’s voices.

“It is,” the kistune said proudly. “Go in, and I will follow.”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “I don’t think I want to. It is musty in there and the air is still and hot. I don’t like being places where I cannot feel the wind.”

The kitsune frowned. “It will only be for a moment. I am sure you will see the perfect woman for you. Then you can trade me for that gem you have . . .”

“No. I don’t think I’d be able to stand it. Being closed in, with that rock blocking the night air. No. I will return to the village. Thank you though, for the nice walk.” Mitsuhide turned to leave.

“Wait!” The kitsune growled and flung itself in front of him. “What if I leave the door open? Then you can go in and still feel the night’s wind. Will that be enough?”

The warlord considered. “I suppose it might be. But it’s too much to ask you to swear an oath to leave it open for me. Then you might not feel safe. I really should just go.”

“I swear it! Here, look, I will go in first so that you can see the door remains open.” The kitsune entered the crevasse, almost dancing with eagerness to lure Mitsuhide inside.

“I guess I will follow you then,” the warlord decided. This was, of course, exactly what he wanted.

He followed after the kitsune, noting the treasures it had stashed in shelves along the walls. Ancient weapons, rare flowers, gems, and precious metals. Paintings thought lost to time. A greedy man might have made a deal for any of it, but Mitsuhide had just one goal in mind.

At the end of the path, the crevasse opened into a valley where a large manor sat. And there, in the courtyard of the manor were all the missing girls. They were dressed in fine silks, with perfumed hair, wrists and throat adorned with precious gems. They sat on blankets amidst the flowers, sipping wine. Or on benches reading books. Some laughed together in little groups. But they all looked up as the kitsune approached.

“He’s back,” one called, and a horde of giggling girls surrounded the kitsune for a moment.

Mitsuhide ignored them, his amber eyes searching for the one face he had to see. She had to be here, she had to be ok. And there she was. Sitting alone on a bench, a book open on her lap. His little mouse.

She looked up and her eyes met his. She jumped to her feet, about to run to him, but he shook his head. It wasn’t the time yet for honesty. So his little one adjusted her spot on the bench and pretended to keep reading.

The kitsune pulled himself free of the women and gestured for Mitsuhide to join him. “For the gem, good man, you can take your pick. Surely one of these lovelies is enough for you?”

“I don’t know.” Mitsuhide tapped his chin. “They all seem very fond of you. I wouldn’t want to take them unwilling.”

The kitsune held one girl by the chin. “If I told you to go with this man and love him, would you do it?”

“For you? Anything,” she breathed. Her eyes were wide and dark and empty.

Mitsuhide knew then that these enthralled women must be under a spell. They wouldn’t simply leave if he gave them the opportunity. “That’s just your magic. I wonder what they would say if you withdrew the enchantment from them. I don’t think any of them really love you.”

This stung the kitsune’s pride. “Of course they would! I am handsome and smart. And I give them nice gifts! They all love me.”

“Mmm, just because you enthralled them. I don’t want a woman bespelled. I think I will just go home.” Mitsuhide turned to leave.

The kitsune whined and yipped and wiped at his face with his hand. “Ok, Ok! I will banish the enchantment and you will see how much they adore me!” He beckoned the women to stand around him. Even Mitsuhide’s little mouse stood and joined the circle.

“My beauties,” the kitsune said, “I will release you. You must show this sad little mortal how much you love your fox-husband.”

The girls all swore they would, of course. Then the kitsune raised his hands and there was a flash of blue light.

Mitsuhide blinked away the brilliance. The women were wandering the courtyard, confused. Some were crying, others looked lost or afraid. Only his little mouse stood with her shoulders back, waiting for a signal from him.

“Well?” The kistune gestured. “You see, they still love me.” He grabbed one and kissed her. She slapped at his arms ineffectually until he let go. “They will love you too. So choose and give me back my gem!”

“Hmmm.” Mitsuhide nodded, walking slowly around the girls. He stopped and asked a few of them where they were from, how old. These were the girls from the village, and some from even further away than that. None knew how long they’d live here with their kitsune-husband, or how they’d arrived at this place. And they all wanted to go home.

The kitsune was nearly bouncing on his toes in eagerness, so close was the return of his gemstone. “Did you find a girl you like?”

“I was just thinking. If I pick a girl, what’s to stop you from taking her away later? All these girls you took from somewhere. They are mothers and daughters and wives. I would not want to trade my pretty rock and in the end have nothing.” Mitsuhide took out the gem. It still shone with a pale light. “I may just keep it afterall.”

“What? No!” The kitsune jumped into the air, more like a beast than a man. His tails lashed in all directions. “I would never do that. I swear! Whoever you pick, I will promise not to lure them here again. You have my oath! Now give me the gem!”

“That is generous of you,” Mitsuhide conceded. “In that case, I will take your deal. I choose . . .” He gestured to the courtyard expansively. “All of these girls.” Then he tossed the kitsune the gem.

The fox-spirit caught it and realized too late that by accepting it, he took Mitsuhide’s deal. He howled in anger. His body blurred, and the human shape disappeared into a monstrous red fox. “How dare you take all my beauties from me! I will kill you and eat you!”

Mitsuhide’s little mouse didn’t wait for a clear signal to go. She grabbed the hands of the girls nearby and urged the others to follow. They all ran down the twisting canyon path through the crevasse, and out of the kitsune’s den.

The fox-spirit would have followed. Its eyes burned with a red light, angry at being deceived, but Mitsuhide distracted it.

“What a ridiculous spirit you are, promising me a fair trade and then wanting to kill me because you don’t like the terms you agreed to,” the warlord called.

The kitsune tried to step on him with one giant paw, but Mitsuhide leapt out of the way. He dropped behind him some of the caltrops ninja favored. He didn’t wait for the response. The warlord ran down the path, following the women out.

Inside the canyon, the kitsune growled and cursed in pain. It limped after them, snapping its long, sharp teeth.

“We need to block the path,” Mitsuhide called to the women.

His little mouse nodded, and rounded the women up to push on the boulder. Mitsuhide joined them.

They strained against the hard stone, feet sliding in the dirt. The kitsune came on, its growl so loud that it shook loose stones on the mountain, and made their bones shiver. Still, they struggled.

The rock shifted the smallest bit. And then a bit again.

“Come on girls! Just a little more,” the chatelaine cried.

Mitsuhide wasn’t sure they would make it afterall. He reached down to loosen his sword in its sheath. If he had to fight, he would be ready.

“I can smell your fear, foolish man,” called the kitsune. “You stopped running. I wonder what you think you can do against me?”

“Maybe I’ve already done it,” Mitsuhide shouted back. “How do you know you are going where you think you are? Or that it is me you smell . . .” He laughed.

And that was when the rock finally broke free and rolled into the crevasse, blocking the path. It wouldn’t hold the kitsune for long, but perhaps long enough.

“I beat you fair and square, fox spirit,” Mitsuhide shouted. “Let that be a lesson to you! Never mess with a kitsune-warlord’s wife! Even if you are a kitsune!”

“I can’t believe you came for me,” his little one said. She threw her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“Mitsuhide held her close, his heart beating hard and fast. “I thought the same, my love. But I couldn’t let you go, even if I didn’t know how or where I would find you. But now that I have you in my arms, I’m not letting you go again.”

“As if I would let you.” She laughed and cried all at once, and held onto him as tight as he held her.

Of course, there was no rest for Mitsuhide Akechi. He had a task to finish, and it was getting these women back home. So he and his little one guided the women to the nearest town, and eventually, back to their homes and families.

The kitsune never forgot about the white-haired man that took his wealth of women. And just maybe, he appeared to the warlord later. But that is another story entirely.