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wordbunch · 10 months

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how you pamper them when they're stressed/overworked

a/n: requested by the sweet @almost-gabrielle, i hope you enjoy it, and everyone else too - it's going to be GIGANTIC! 😍 be nice, cause I included some characters I haven't written much before (exciting!!!) and if you reblog with a comment or a nice tag... i'll love you forever! 💖 that means a lot, and i'm very grateful for all of it 🥰

ARAGORN: he actually feels like that quite often, but he’s incredibly good at hiding it. Luckily, you’re an expert in reading him like an open book, but oftentimes you need to literally physically drag him away from whatever he is doing (and he might complain as you do so). Aragorn just enjoys sometimes being quiet with you, and it’s usually what he needs when his mind is racing, or his body is overexerted. Or both. You can just lie down together and run your fingers slowly through his hair, and that will help him forget his worries at least for a little while. Secretly he is an absolute sucker for sweet, romantic confessions of love and affection, and he will melt if you whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

LEGOLAS: something has to be extremely serious for him to feel that way, because his limits are very high; but in those moments he just wants to get away from everything as soon as possible and run to you, because with you the rest of the world just fades away. He enjoys an outing in nature, far away from real life, especially if the two of you find a nice lake or river to go for a swim in, and eventually act like a couple of children splashing and chasing each other. If that doesn’t help, he likes to sit in front of you and let you braid his hair as he talks about whatever is on his mind, and it also helps him physically relax to have you sitting behind and so close to him.

BOROMIR: this man will most likely push himself to his absolute limits, because he shoulders too much responsibility and feels pressured constantly to be on top of things. However, it’s easy to notice when he becomes a bit more irritable at one point, and then you know it’s time to talk him into taking at least a little break. That can be a slippery slope, because once he gets you alone for 5 minutes, it can very easily turn into 15 hours, and he would never finish anything. But on some days it’s just necessary - you sweet talk him into a cuddle session, during which he accidentally falls asleep with his head over your heart, or you make some tea with love as the special ingredient – and tell him that! He’s going to melt and finally, gratefully accept that his partner wants to look after him.

FARAMIR: much like his brother, he will probably suffer in silence, but you can’t miss his tired sighs every now and then, and the way he shuts his eyes and rubs his temples. If you hug him from behind, he will melt into your touch and lean onto you so much that you will almost topple over, but that will also make him admit to himself that he really needs a break. Run him a nice, hot bath complete with fragrant ingredients, and candles lit around it, and he will be forever grateful. If you don’t join immediately, he will very sweetly ask you to come with him because 'oh the bath is so big and so lonely' without one more person in it.

ÉOMER: this hardworking man is actually quite in touch with how he feels, both physically and emotionally, and he knows when things are becoming too much and he needs to step away for his own good. It is not unusual for him to go search for you and suggest that the two of you do something away from everyday life. Many times he doesn’t even suggest anything, he just follows behind you whatever you’re doing - taking a walk and admiring some trees in bloom? He’s right there holding your hand. Sitting on a balcony and reading? He will lay his head on your lap and ask you to read to him. And he is content just being present with you.

SAM: he gets both overworked and stressed quite often, poor thing. Make him something to eat and bring it outside while he’s working in the garden, and just have a spontaneous mini-picnic in the backyard. Although he’s very hardworking and persistent, over time he’s learned to accept your help and pampering, and he really really enjoys it too. If he is under mental stress, maybe you’ll need to push him a little bit to tell you what is on his mind, but once he does, he will gladly listen to your advice or any help you can give him.

FRODO: baby boy is in his head a lot and oftentimes he will accidentally create things to worry about, and he will just zone out. if he has a faraway look in his eyes, while doing nothing in particular, you can accurately guess what is up. He likes to feel useful, and he will gratefully accept if you ask him to help you with whatever you’re doing - it gives him an excuse to be kind and helpful, but also spend time with his favorite person. Especially if you’re organizing/re-organizing something, he will enjoy doing it with you, or cooking - he might not be the best at it, but he delights in giving you a hand, and he likes to learn and improve new skills anyway.

MERRY: he is actually much more of an overthinker than he seems to be on the outside, so stress sometimes just generates outta nowhere! Also he isn’t the biggest fan of physical labor out there, but he is a little bit of a show-off when it comes to you, and he will go above and beyond when helping you with something or doing something for you, until he can barely stand. Afterwards he will take pride in the fact that you had to force him to stop whatever he was doing, but he was simply being so very nice to his favorite person! Something he loves to do to unwind in those moments is just come up with random stories with you, the two of you taking turns making up characters and events. He is a little bit of a baby and he will just take your hand wordlessly and put it in his hair, because it feels nice when you run your fingers through it.

PIPPIN: he will either be stressing over very small, irrelevant things, or something absolutely terrible, no in-between. If it’s something small, he has no problem rambling about it to you, and that usually helps him sort things out; but if it’s something serious, he will grow quiet. The best thing you can do for him in those moments is distract him with a silly idea like “let’s go for a walk and find as many kinds of blue flowers as we can” or just straight up make him laugh - it’s the best medicine. He wouldn’t ask you directly to do it, but he’d love it if you could just hold him or cuddle him for a bit (he’s the little spoon of course).

BILBO: oh he will get worked up over a whole bunch of random things; and when he is working on something, he goes all in (and then has a random episode of doing absolutely nothing), so you need to be the one who grounds him in reality sometimes. Just don’t startle him when approaching him quietly. He is very responsive to your touch and he will just lean into you as soon as you’re near, almost forgetting about everything else. He adores it when you hold his face in your hands and he will look at you as if hypnotized while you comfortingly reassure him that everything will be alright and that he doesn’t have to do anything alone as long as you’re around.

FÍLI: he is very big on “strong protective independent dwarf” and sometimes he doesn’t fully allow himself to rest properly, or to process some things that are bothering him on the inside. However, at one point it will all have to culminate, and then his first instinct is to shut himself off. A guaranteed way to get through to him is to kiss him senselessly wherever you can reach and it makes him subconsciously relax almost immediately. He will kiss you back passionately which helps him eliminate some of the tension he’s feeling. Additionally, he will never ever say no to receiving a nice little massage from you.

KÍLI: oh he is quite proud of himself if he ends up overworking himself for you, as if it gives him bonus partner points. You will gently scold him for pushing himself too far, and then he will pout, but you know he still doesn’t regret it. Then he himself will drag you away for a cuddle session - he chose that as his reward for being the very best partner in all of Middle-earth - but you don’t have to exclusively cuddle. He finds it very relaxing if you sing something quietly to him and he will look up at you with shining eyes.

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ikigaisvt · 5 months

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seventeen as tropes – vocal unit

starring: jeonghan, joshua, jihoon, dokyeom & seungkwan + gn!reader / (mention of mingyu in dk's) words count: 3.5k in total (between 400 - 800 each, expect seungkwan's 1.3k..,,.,..,, dont comment on that pls) content: fluff, non-idol!au warnings: everything is soft tbh? skinship (cheek kiss, kissing, holding hands), teasing, pining, rivalry, shitty team mates/friends, crying, lots of blushing lmao, very very very very sappy note: seventeen as tropes has been sitting in my drafts since 2022 and i'm FINALLY letting it out,, i hope everyone enjoy it! i decided to post it by units or else the post would get Too long (i already went off on this one lmao) don't worry hhu unit and pfu unit is already in the making hehe >.< pls don't come for me if some members have more words than others! inspiration isn't going to be the same for every tropes so i hope everyone can keep that mind! minors can interact with this fic but please don't follow or i'll hard block you. ignore any mistakes pls my brain is Dead rn,,, pls enjoy this piece of mine and don't forget to leave a like/reblog/comment! mwah mwah mwah good reading~

Jeonghan: Blind date

Jeonghan never loses bets and everyone in his friend group knows that which is why no one ever makes bets with him. He is just an extremely lucky person and he can always get his way out of any situation; expect when the person he made a bet with is Joshua – I taught him too well, he thinks to himself. It’s all because of a lost bet that he finds himself going on a blind date on this Thursday afternoon. That was the bet – to go on a blind date with someone the other picked. To say he was nervous was an understatement. All he’s hoping for is that Joshua didn’t prank him and sent like Seungkwan as his date. That would be awkward, he thinks as he makes his way quicker to the café.

As for you? Well, here you are, waiting for Joshua’s friend in this new café that opened in the neighbor. You don’t really know what went through your mind when you agreed to this blind date; something about Joshua’s words, probably. He can be a bit too convincing at times, something he apparently learned from this special friend – Jeonghan. You’ve never met the guy but oh have you heard countless stories about him. You know he’s one of Joshua’s closest friends so maybe you won’t get a relationship out of this but you will be able to talk about Joshua’s weird antics – in hopes Jeonghan isn’t worse, somehow, than your best friend.

You’re lost in your thoughts when a voice softly calls your name. You look up to see the most beautiful man ever and he quickly introduces himself as Jeonghan, as he sits down in front of you. You don’t really notice how Jeonghan looks at you, like you’re the most beautiful human he has ever seen or how a slight blush creeps up on his ears. And Jeonghan doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks or how you slightly smile to yourself every time he tells you something. You two talk for hours; complaining about Joshua’s behavior – and you don’t let Jeonghan get away with turning him into a little devil, talking about how cute Sylvanian families are – he even shows you the ones he has, he rants about Legos, too, while he lets you tell him about that last book you read – something about a fae prince and a human falling in love. The staffs at the café breaks you both out of your conversation, letting you know they are closing in 10 minutes – it’s only when she comes around that you realize you are the only customers left. You quickly gather your stuffs, expecting to say goodbye to Jeonghan in front of the café but he naturally walks you back to your place. It’s when you’re leaned on your front door that he asks for your number – I thought he would never make a move, and he promises to see you soon before leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. It’s only when Jeonghan leaves you that he realizes luck was, once again, on his side.

Joshua: Coworkers

You’re very grateful for your coworkers at your new job. It’s only been a few months since you joined the finance team at this new company but everyone treats you like you have been part of the team for a long time. Everyone helps you out in new tasks, especially Joshua. Whenever you have to do something you aren’t used to, Joshua comes running to help you out and he cheers you up every time you have a hard time. You never really questioned how he acts as you always thought he was just being nice – as he is with anyone else. However, as your coworkers have known him longer than you, they know how you always get a special treatment from him; he makes you coffee when you start working and after lunch, he brings you your favorite chocolate, he prints out your folders for you and makes sure you always have your favorite pens working. His crush on you is known to everyone but you.

That all comes to light on a company dinner where Joshua special dots on you even in a restaurant far from work – he gets you food, fills up your plate and your glasses, lends you his jacket when you get cold and even offer to walk you home. All of these little attention gets him teased by your coworkers while you are still as oblivious as before. Joshua wears a profound blush on his ears all night but once again, you still don’t notice the pink tint of his ears (you honestly think it’s a cause of his drinking) and Joshua is entirely too happy about you being so clueless.

A few hours later he walks you home – as he promised. However, you surprise him by asking why everyone was teasing him back there. He stumbles on his words, the blush going to his cheeks until he finally admits it’s because he has a crush on you ever since you walked into the office on your first day. And now you’re the one with the blush, stuttering an answer – I like you too, but Joshua takes you by surprise by kissing you.

Jihoon: Acquaintances

You have known Jihoon since middle school; he was just always around in your group of friends and yet you didn’t know him at all. All you knew about him is that he liked music and as much as you thought he was nice, you never thought about making friends with him – if you didn’t all this time, why now? But when you’re in your first year of college, walking into your liberal arts class and you see only one familiar face – Jihoon’s, you walk up to him because it’s always good to know someone in every classes – to get notes or for future project.

So, you put on your best smile, sit down next to him – hope to god he remembers you – while starting to rant about how glad you are he’s here. However, all you’re met with is a blushing and stuttering Jihoon; “Sorry, I- uh- I forgot to water my dog- I mean, no- Forgot to give water to my dog! Bye!” before he runs out of the auditorium. It’s an understatement to say you are confused about his behavior, hoping he doesn’t secretly hate you – and is currently at the college’s administration to beg for a transfer. He’s cute, after all.

Next week, you are standing in front of the door of that same auditorium wondering if you’re going to find Jihoon in there. You don’t give yourself time to run away, pushing the door open and promising yourself to try and make a friend in this class today. You sit down, not trying to find Jihoon among the students. You didn’t even finish pulling out your laptop that the chair beside you is pushed back – Someone sat down next to me! – and you look to see who your new best friend is, only to see Jihoon looking at you, smiling. He greets you, asks you how your morning went before apologizing for last week – something about him being stressed. You let him know it’s alright – you can’t just hold grudges against him. And he’s cute today too. That’s how you two become friends after more than 10 years of being in each other’s life – or like background. And so, because Jihoon never feels like he apologizes enough, he does anything you ask of him for weeks: he buys you food, lends you his notes, makes you playlists but most importantly, when you ask to see his studio, he accepts.

On a Friday night, he picks you up and you two walk together to the studio, as you ask him about music – all these years, you always saw him with a guitar or humming songs and yet you never knew how it all started. And so, he answers all your questions, he talks, again and again, he tells you everything because it’s you. When you get to the studio, you walk around, touching every instrument, asking more questions while he sets up his computer. He goes out for a moment – letting you know you can play around on his computer – to pick up dinner at the fast food down the street. Of course, you take his offer, settling down on his chair and you open Youtube, play some songs before trying to make a simple track. It’s when you open his files to add one of his samples that you stumble across a file named after you; you can’t resist the urge to open it, finding songs after songs – Run to you, Darl+ing, Lean On Me, Adore U.

Jihoon comes in a few minutes after, the computer still shining with all these songs. And that’s when he knows – he knows he can’t hide it anymore, he knows all these years he spent at a distance from you can’t happen again, he knows he has to tell you. So, he tells you – he never talked this much in a night – he tells you he always liked you, he never forgot that first day he saw you in middle school, he explains how much he tried to not be in your life but he always felt himself be pulled in. He confesses that’s how he started music – because nothing but this could describe what he feels in his chest when you’re there. And you have tears in your eyes, you feel like your heart is going to implode from the love he gives you and you tell him; someway, somehow, your life has always felt empty when he was missing. When college came around you were scared you were never going to see him again. So, when you saw him, you knew this was destiny. You knew the world pulled strings for you two. (You spend the night at his studio, listening to every song he made for you while you two build a new world together.)

Dokyeom: Love at first sight/Meet cute

Dokyeom knows it; he’s in love. Okay, he hasn’t been in love before but he is pretty damn sure if love is something then it’s this; your chest tightens, you feel tingles in your stomach and you can’t stop looking at everything they do. That’s what he feels right now, when he sees you reading your book in that coffee shop.

He’s here with his best friend who tries so hard to get his attention but nothing can make him look away. I’m not being a weirdo, he reassures himself. You’re just so pretty, sitting there while reacting to that book – at one point, he saw tears pooling in your eyes – while you sip on your tea, your headphones on. You stay there, reading away while he watches you, then stops looking when he feels like you’ll notice him but he finds himself looking at you soon enough, never being able to really stop.

It's when you get up, making your way to the bathroom that he breaks from his daze – I need to get a grip. So, he focuses on his best friend’s rant, listening, actually answering his questions. But when he misses you, he looks back to your spot only to find it empty, only your book left behind. He gets up immediately and make his way to your spot, not even caring about Mingyu’s complaint. He picks up your book – Me Before You, he reads – and hurriedly makes his way out of the café. As he looks around, trying to find you, he notices you at the end of the street, a few meters away, waiting to cross the road. He runs up to you, not wanting to let you get away and as he gets to your level, he gets weirdly nervous; it’s not like he’s gonna make any move, right? He lightly taps your shoulder to get your attention. You turn around, a natural smile hanging on your lips as an answer. Dokyeom feels his heart beat faster right away and he knows it’s not even the nervousness, it’s you – Hi, uh- I- I was in that café, he starts as he points behind himself, I think that’s yours, he says as he holds out the book between the two of you. Immediately, you react, your face twisting in something between surprise and gratitude as you grab it and you never stop thanking him, again and again, asking him how you can repay him. Nothing, he answers, stars in his eyes knowing he will never be that close to the sun again, just- enjoy that book, okay? he finishes, turning around to go back to his best friend and his cappuccino. He walks slowly, almost as he expects you to catch up to him, almost as he wants you to – and he does. It’s when he pulls the door of the café open that he feels a light touch on his shoulder, his body reacting to you before his eyes can even see you. His lips pull up, his eyes shine again and he turns around, his heart reacting the same way again, before you extend a piece of paper between your bodies, stuttering; You forgot something too, the blush on your ears deepens, my number.

Seungkwan: Rivals

Seungkwan has always loved badminton; at this point, he talks about it so often, the whole school knows. Which you might be bitter about – only because you don’t like sharing something in common with him – but it’s only normal people do know about it; after all, he’s the captain of the boy’s badminton team. Now, what people of this school don’t know is that there is also a girl’s badminton team in the school – however, they are about to know. You have been leading the team so well, even though it has only been two years since it first got together, that you now get to share the court in your school’s sports hall to practice with your girls. Your coach – which is also the boy’s team, also lets you know that you’ll be meeting the other team every 2 weeks for friendly matches so the girls could improve in their skills.

It's the next day when you walk onto the court, already prepared for practice – you just need to take care of a few things as you are the team captain. Unfortunately, you stumble onto Seungkwan when you least expect it – you thought the team had classes at this time (not that you know his schedule, of course). Seungkwan doesn’t understand what you’re doing on his ground and he asks you to leave or else he will tell the coach – as if he had any kind of weight on her. Go tell the coach I’m here, go, you scoff at him, knowing she will only let him know what’s really going on. A few minutes later he comes back, the coach by his side, as he rolls his eyes at, probably, the thought of sharing anything with you.

And that’s how the rivalry between the two of you gets worse – if that was even possible. Your team meet every other day, practicing side by side and sharing laughter – expect you and Seungkwan. You both make your possible to annoy each other – you take the best spot first, you help the coach, you give advices to his team mates, you even go as far as to use him as something not to do on the field. On his side, he refuses to say your name, he keeps reprimanding your girls, he even says how even a toddler could play better than you and even go as far as to flirt with your team mate. Fortunately, even through all this fight with him, you and your girls train hard and your skills are rapidly improving. Time passes by so fast and it’s already time for your first match against the boys. You gather your team, let them know you believe in them and to not get intimidated by their playing – they are going to play hard and we need to hit back as much as them. It’s when Seungkwan sees you like this, so serious, so sure of yourself and so proud of your team, even when they lose points that he notices you in a different way. The way you burn with passion and yet how your eyes still shine with love when one of your team needs words of encouragement. He didn’t think he would ever feel like this but right now, you are distracting him from the match. And nothing, distract him from badminton.

The match is fierce, the room is burning with pride and want for the win; which the girls get. You cheer again and again, even the boys are congratulating your team – only Seungkwan doesn’t as he gathers his stuff and leaves first – which somehow, stings. You think it’s because his pride is hurt but it’s only because he can’t bear to see you anymore when he feels like this – heart fluttering, lips forming into a smile – at the sight of you.

The training keeps going after that win, the matches too; you keep annoying him and he does too, even though is comments are more helpful than anything; don’t do it like this, you’ll get hurt or even tell them to coordinate their moves, it will make them better – but you don’t notice, you only do the contrary of what he wants you to. The 5th match comes faster than any of you expect and you fight for the win with your team – you haven’t won these past 3 ones and it’s taking a toll on the team spirit – but the luck isn’t on your side when you sprain your ankle. The match stops as soon as you yelp, your team mates too surprised to react right away. Through the pain, you open your eyes when you feel a hand touch at your ankle delicately, trying to evaluate how hurt you are. You expect to see your coach but you meet a pair of brown worried eyes – Seungkwan. Are you hurt somewhere else? he asks softly, before turning around and telling everyone else to give you space, talk to me, please, he pleads, his big brown eyes fixed on your face. The after shock of the fall passes by as you stutter; why do you care? before asking for two of your team members to help to the infirmary – the coach letting everyone know the match is postponed, as you go through the door.

A few hours later you’re sat down on the cold bed, waiting for one of your friends to get out of class so she can drive you home – two weeks without walking and a month with no badminton, at least, the nurse told you earlier, but please go see a doctor, she finished before leaving you alone in the room to rest. You’re lost in your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door, thinking it’s your friend that’s here to bring you back home – finally. You’re more than surprised when you’re met with Seungkwan’s figure at the door as he asks you if he can come in, which you answer with a nod. He walks in and sats down on the chair at the end of the bed; what did she say? he asks, nervous at the thought of talking to you normally – and also, at the thought of not seeing you for practice anymore. 2 weeks with crutches and a month without playing, at best, you whisper, trying to fight back the tears. Oh- I’m so sorry, he says, sounding sincere. It’s not like you have anything to do with that, you sneer, wiping a tear off your cheek, do you? He sits back, now realizing how far your rivalry had gone for you to thin he could hurt you; no, of course not. I would never, he says seriously, as he sits down at the foot of your bed. Yeah, sorry, you apologize, your voice breaking in the middle, I thought that was what we did. Hurt each other. He takes in your pain which is much more than physical right now; your heart is on the verge of breaking and it’s mostly because of him; Not anymore. I don’t want to do that anymore; he starts as you lookconfused by his words. So, he explains; how his aversion for you came to be because you were a better captain, how people compared you two together, how some of his old team mates wished to have you instead of him. How he found himself to be as admirative of you as people are, how he finally understood everyone when he saw you play, how badminton was made for you, the same way you were for him. How these feelings bloomed in a place he thought was burned by the spite of others. How he wishes he could take everything back but since he can’t how he hopes you can give him a chance to do better, in the future. So, you do; you hold his hand as you both stay silent; he starts to come up with way to fix your broken heart and you, coming up with a plan to keep the flowers blooming even in winter. Maybe love is the way to it all.

thank you so much for reading! leave me a like/reblog/comment if you want and you'll have my unconditional love forever 🫶

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odusseus-xvi · 9 months

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Doing a Summary of the French ccs' Lore (because we are forgotten)

(this last part is a joke don't take it too seriously)

Making a post with the lore we know about every French ccs for those who don't follow them religiously : (I might forget some things because I'm not an encyclopedia)

BAGHERA JONES :

Has said in the past she does see herself (her character) as human, like in the "Regret" animation but has also talked about "dying her feathers" instead of hair, and discussed with mike about not really having hair. Her species/lineage/anything you want to call it doesn't seem to be something set in stone.

When asked from where she comes from she answers Switzerland. It seems to have been accepted by Cucurucho. (also knows about The Shit Tower from the Team du Lundi server, though that might not be really lore accurate)

Doesn't seem to be interested in leaving the island itself, but is REALLY interested in freeing herself and the others from the Federation.

Considers BBH and Forever as her family alongside the rest of the french. Both Pomme and Dapper are her adopted kids.

Has both an underground Base and a Castle far north.

Dropped out of the election on her own accord, jumping from the top of her castle's highest tower.

(note : Please admins, cook something for her... She needs it... She tried for days to solve the book thingy, and Cellbit ended up having the last clues and doing it himself... Please I beg you...)

ETOILES :

Is a masked anthorpomorphic cucumber. No ambiguity about that.

When asked where he comes from, it alternates between France, and Far Away (if I remember well) (Was also part of the Team du Lundi server, but nothing confirms it is part of his canon lore).

What does seem to be conserved is his familiarity with all the french ccs : His close joke-flirting relationship with Antoine, his friendly banters with Baghera, his kind of disciple in redstone and create relationship with Aypierre, and his friendship with Kamet0.

Actually enjoying his time on the Island because of the challenges it offers him. Particularly enjoys showing the Federation and The Codes how they can do nothing against him. Considers himself a simple Warrior.

Has a cave a la BatCave but spends most of his time exploring and far away from it.

His favorite thing is bringing loot and stuff to the other residents.

Is freindly with everyone, and enjoys every egg, with particular admiration to Dapper.

(note : #EtoilesIsMyPresident)

AYPIERRE :

A simple human (note : a headcanon I like and that his community has kinda adopted is imagining him with Doc Ock style mechanical arms)

Comes from a random place in France he wrote kind of has a joke to Cucurucho. As for a potential server he could come from the guy is one of the oldest mc cc on the INTERNET. I could not tell you.

We don't really know his feelings on the island, but is portrayed as an opportunist and enjoyer of contracts. Absolutely willing to have deals with the Federation, though also interested in helping the others leave the island.

"n° 1 Gegg fan". Built a Gegg generator and is behind the Geggpocalypse of the election dinner.

Has a fun uncle/nephew relationship with Richarlyson, he revealed the Geggpocalypse to him before anyone else, and is building a winery to run with him.

Has a small house with multiple elevators and teleport pads leading to his huge Factory complex he will open to the public soon.

"I'm secretly building a machine.." before being cut off by Slime saying "WTF MAN THIS IS CRAZY".

(note : We don't know what that last part is about though most likely linked to the lore he's been brewing with the admins that is coming early August)

ANTOINE DANIEL :

We have no idea what he is, though might appears "human". "We all have multiple faces, Im just the only one showing them all". *about the face that was on his inside layer on his old skin* "I'd rather not talk about that, it's private."

Comes from France, though his reference to the Shit Tower into the new Shit Palace might mean he comes from the Team du Lundi server.

We don't know his feelings on the island, though distrustful of the Federation.

Lives in his Shit Palace that is currently unfinished, with the Moon and it's ring above. Has a secret room under called "La Fin du Monde (the end of the world)" with (old and not updated) thoughts about the residents of the island.

Is easily distrustful though trusts the french the most, and confides most of his secrets in Pomme.

Has a weird admiration/obession with Cucurucho.

(note : Come back antoine, I miss the kids...)

KAMET0 :

Ah ah ah ah... ah.

Etoiles did say he might come back at some point to do a cameo, tough not regularly.

(note : come back to the village Sasuke...)

#qsmp #qsmp baghera jones #qsmp baghera #qsmp antoine daniel #qsmp antoine #qsmp etoiles #qsmp aypierre #qsmp france #qsmp french

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youphoriaot7 · 7 months

Text

He's not on the GPS.

Cellbit has done a lot of things during the time Roier has known him, but only a very small number of them have involved turning off his communicator. When they have, it generally hasn't been good.

And Cellbit's communicator is not on the GPS.

Generally, Roier wouldn't think twice about it. But, hell, maybe his husband is finally rubbing off on him, because he's worried. He's worried as hell, because that fucking bear doesn't exactly have the best track record with Cellbit. Not to mention he knows just what Cellbit was risking yesterday by running this mission, and it was damn near everything. And they failed.

He doesn't know what the Federation will want to do with him.

He'll never forget the soft footfalls behind him on the creaking boards of the old house. The sound only just barely being enough of a heads-up for him to spring up from his position leaning against the doorframe. The door opening away from his nose as he came face-to-face with that...that thing.

The way Cellbit's whole face seemed to fall when it passed him that book. The way his face had paled as he read the words inside, tucking it into his pocket before saying he needed to leave.

The way Roier had squeezed the other man's hand tightly before he'd left, so tightly he could feel their rings digging into his skin—despite the fact that it was the least of his worries. The way he'd had to explain to Bagi about what had happened the last time Cellbit received consequences from the Federation, how he'd come to have the white streak in his hair.

But without a doubt, worse than any of that was the waiting.

He tries staying at the castle, but he gets too antsy. Staying in any one place for too long isn't really Roier's style. Besides, he thinks, maybe Cellbit would go somewhere else first. Perhaps the Ordo, to organize the materials—because if he knows his husband, the other man will want to get back to work as soon as he can. (It's not likely, but at least it's something to do other than sit and wait around in the empty castle.)

The favela is dead silent, not a peep in any of the buildings. He remembers with a twinge of pain how lively the small neighborhood used to be. (Everyone is gone now. Three physically, three living elsewhere.) He checks the Ordo, but it turns up no more than he'd expected. Which is to say, nada.

Perhaps he can get lucky and catch him at the train station, leaving the offices. He may not be able to get inside, but no one can stop him from waiting nearby.

Still feeling uneasy, he tries to wander the fields, looking for materials for both his building projects and that stupid robot sitting at the top of his castle tower. The distractions don't work very well at all, and he sighs as he pulls out his communicator once more.

That is when he realizes that Cellbit's communicator is nowhere to be found.

Roier will be the first to admit it: he panics. He knows what happened the last time Cellbit went missing. Quickly, he fires off a message to the silent communicator, asking where he is, if he's okay, did they get you again, do you need help? They go unanswered, of course, and Roier shoves the communicator back into the pocket of his hoodie.

He can check the castle one more time. That was where he'd promised to meet Cellbit, after all. If the other man had managed to warp away, maybe he was there right now.

Roier's footsteps echo against the cobblestone of the bridge as he shoots off a text to Bagi, letting her know that Cellbit is still unaccounted for, but if anything changes, he'll tell her. He can tell by the way her reply takes longer than usual that she's worrying as well, and her simple, clipped, one-word response isn't a surprise to him.

He pushes inside the house, wriggling past the gate as he makes his way through the front room. And so, the search begins.

Not in the dining room. Not in the kitchen. Not in the ritual room, the bedroom, or the kids' atelier. It doesn't matter. He'll scour every inch of this damn structure if he has to. Though with every room searched without a sign of his gatinho, he finds himself getting more and more discouraged.

Then, suddenly, it dawns on him, and mentally he kicks himself for not thinking of it sooner. The elevator down to the Fear Room feels like it takes much longer than usual—or maybe it's just the difference between being in a hurry and not. Eventually, though, it lands, and he pushes through the door to get down to the true room.

The elevator is much louder than he expects and he flinches slightly, praying that no one else knows he's here. Should he turn off his communicator, too? As the world shifts around him, he's immediately scanning his surroundings, still trying to force down the knife of panic that rests high in his chest—

—there.

"...pendejo," Roier mumbles, stepping over to the side of the bed. The investigator is passed out on top of the covers, one arm flung across his forehead, the other tightly gripping his communicator. "Me diste un susto."

Carefully, Roier pries the device out of Cellbit's grip, trying not to wake him—but the man is as silent as a stone. After a bit of maneuvering, he manages to get Cellbit under the covers, setting the communicator and shoulder plates on the nearby desk.

He looks exhausted, just as tired as Roier has felt this past week. World weary. He should definitely get some rest. Never mind the way Roier's stomach pangs with worry, frantic to know what the white piece of shit had told him. Never mind the way Cellbit had shut off his communicator prior to going in—surely it was just so his sleep wouldn't be interrupted.

It isn't fair for him to want answers right now when they'll be just as fine later. Besides, he knows that's all Cellbit wanted, too.

Instead, he simply squeezes Cellbit's shoulder before moving away, back up the elevator and through the hidden door.

"You held down the fort while I slept," he murmurs, glancing back at the door one last time. "...let me take care of things now."

#i have so much angst in my head right now but...#had to fix this first.#qsmp #qsmp roier #qsmp cellbit #spiderbit #qsmp fic

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virginburial · 9 months

Note

hi! could i request something with ethan x fem!reader (or gn, whichever makes you the most comfortable :)) where reader is this really like, wealthy kid at blackmore who’s part of the core four (but since she’s in it… maybe fab five? idk 😭 i suck at this) and she’s dating ethan and just loves to spoil him? i’m assuming he’s like a broke college student, and the whole group kinda jokes that’s she’s his sugar mommy lmao. if you’re not up for it, feel free to ignore this request! i love your work <3 can’t wait to read more of your writing, thank you so so much for sharing it with us!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I so clearly saw Gossip Girl in my head I'm dead x-x but let me break down why this would absolutely work on Ethan

Ethan Landry CD mix! .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

especially since I'm getting an old money-great Gatsby feel out of it, your family probably owns a company that's been around for generations, one of those Rockefeller/Vanderbilt types. the kind of family HBO writes hit dramas about. You weren't snobby about it but still carried yourself differently than all your peers (you knew you were hot shit). So when regular-schmegular middle-class suburban boy next door Ethan catches your eye, it is a shock to everyone, especially him.

Ethan barely had a job and was living off of loans, like everyone else. you noticed this when he nervously asked you out to Olive Garden and ate nothing but the free breadsticks and some soda. you felt bad; you could tell he wanted to impress you.

so you started bringing him coffee every time you walk to class together; "I can't hold your books and the coffee y/n-" "-just take the fucking latte, Ethan!" he was too humble to take your offerings, but soon, as your romantic relationship with him evolved, so did his acceptingness and gratitude. You two would go to the mall and whatever Ethan stared at for more than five seconds would be coming home with you. other times, you'd door-dash him food whenever he studied for hours on end, because you knew Ethan had the habit of focusing too much on his studies and forgetting to eat.

"dude! she's totally your sugar mommy." Chad would tease, or Mindy and Anika would comment about asking you for permission before he does anything; "Don't you need your momma's blessing before you do that?" It's a little annoying, but Ethan knows the truth; you loved to spoil him, and he loved being spoiled by you. you loved seeing how excited he gets over a pair of sneakers or some dinner, and he loved knowing that the person he loves thinks about him and what he liked. you're abundant, and you felt it was important to share that abundance with the ones you loved. speaking of, your relationship with Ethan reached a point where he was offered an internship within your family's business; which lead to the both of you heading back to the mall, helping Ethan pick which suit he should wear to the interview.

and, of course, Ethan is on his knees, eating you out in the dressing room because he is just so grateful. getting stains all over his button-up as your juices drip down his chin and run down his neck. whatever, you were going to buy it for him anyways.

.·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა

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sunshades · 5 months

Text

grief in the city, or "how many days off will i get when my lover dies of consumption next march"

Expanding from this post (@puffles HI) or mostly just trying to write it out in a readable fashion. (lor spoilers ahead yeehaw 📚)

Just been thinking. Death in the pmverse city. It's not something you're really allowed to get personal with. But some people just can't help it.

In lobocorp we get a look at what it's like from the inside of a corporation, and like yeah the entire story is about it, but to me Yesod's parts more than anyone else's showcase this feeling.

(Yesod core suppression dialogue)

The question of detachment comes up pretty often, and he points out Malkuth's as the ideal behavior to cope with it- forgetting you're dealing with humans as much as you can. Through his arc in lobocorp he struggles with it, this idea that it can all be fine if he stops thinking of the others as having a face, a name, and most importantly (for him) a body. Of course a strategy like that stops working as soon as one remembers, as one gets closer. That is one of the main themes of lor.

We're introduced to Xiao midway through the game, and her story unfolds as we start to learn about Roland's. The way she describes herself is similar to how A talks about Yesod, though Xiao doesn't feel special for it. The softness of her (at the time) coworker Lowell confounds her.

(Xiao's key page)

Then the invitation reaches her, and therefore the news of Lowell's death, and this changes. Her reaction is intense, she describes it vividly. And it feels... kind of natural considering the martial culture of her workplace? Specifically for an Association whose mechanics literally run off emotion levels.

(Liu S1 reception)

But we immediately see that no, to everyone else this seems like an overreaction to losing a partner. We see it from Chun's reaction, then Angela's, who suggests she simply finds a substitute for Lowell, and Roland himself is surprised by it: he muses about the Light influencing the people of the City: this is such a strange thing it gets compared to the goddamn Distortion! When we take a look at Lowell's own book it seems to confirm that out of the two he's always been the one with the more unconventional mindset.

(Lowell's key page)

It's not groundbreaking to say one should care about their partner, but it feels like in the City this isn't really the case? It feels like having someone you cherish becomes something of a nuisance as it can interfere with a Fixer's ability to... well, work. Roland, though affected for obvious reasons, tells Angela about it briefly enough, and it seems it's not particularly noteworthy, having romantic entanglements but also losing them pretty quickly. It's something that happens, that you're supposed to deal with easily enough, and go back to work.

(Liu S2 second reception)

Instead Xiao's feelings lead her to do the direct opposite; it's noteworthy that before her reception she resigns from the Association, and immediately justifies herself to her subordinates by letting them know this shouldn't affect their careers. It's worth noting that Roland's story is marked by a similar situation, once he's exposed in his revenge quest, he loses his Color title as well as his Fixer grade. In both situations we find that the question of how to deal with Survival (being a survivor to the person you love) can't escape from the problem of Survival (how to make a living). The death of another puts you in actual danger if you actually care about them.

In light of this, Lowell's hopes and promises for Xiao read differently. His apparent softness and sensitivity reveals itself as something he can handle very rationally; aware of how deeply their feelings run, he asks her to vow to always watch over herself.

(Liu S1 reception)

Instead Xiao, and we later learn about Roland, embrace the horror of what's happened to them, and show us what it's like to go into the deep end of this grief; it's a deviation from what we might consider normal or #HEALTHY, but it's also a display of feeling that usually people of the City just... don't allow themselves to have. I don't wanna ramble about this too long, but since limbus vaguely uses the Divine Comedy as a source, in Dante terms I would say: while Xiao and Roland commit sins of excess of love, letting their anger over their loved ones take them over, the people of the City in general commit the sin of sloth, "laziness of the heart", it's people who refuse to let any kind of attachment in their heart, because it's simply easier not to deal with them. Roland's arc touches on it quite often.

(Natural Sciences realization)

Though Roland does eventually turn out to be, well. A big deal, a lot of his behavior in the library is supposed to show him as a kind of everyman of the City. In moments where he talks like this, he's expressing what it actually feels like for most people to live in there. This heavily contrasts with Xiao's own beliefs, the ones she develops through her love, and that leads to her EGO manifestation.

(Liu S1 reception)

By the end we also know that the truth is Roland's own mindset isn't quite the one he tries to preach ("that's that and this is this"), but the grief over the loss of Angelica, and more generally the pain for the life he's always had, still weighs so heavy on him he isn't able to just start again- he doesn't want to! As the stories goes on and he faces the horrors of the City together with Angela, even this facade of "sloth" fades away, and his actual feelings start to show, the love and the anger and all of the grief- he starts to resonate with the abnos as Angela did, a similar experience to distorting.

While Roland has a lot of interesting dialogue, it'd take a whole other post to talk about it (I'm sure someone smarter has done it already) so for the purposes of this and to keep on topic I only wanna talk about a little bit that Xiao doesn't touch on, and that feels relevant with the perspective of canto VI.

(Black Silence "soulmates" reception)

In one of the darkest moments, we get a (can I say it now?) ⛈ HEARTBREAKING ⛈ confession straight from the inside of Roland's mind, the fear that in choosing to move on he'll have abandoned Angelica and all they meant for each other. The "pair of linked souls" is tied on a mechanical level, to beat them you need to disrupt their soul link, a buff they give each other that makes them basically unbeatable- they keep each other alive. Roland's fear, after years of Fixer work, after seeing how little value a person's life has in the eyes of the City, is this: that the second he looks away from Angelica's death and his attempt to avenge it, he'll have forsaken her forever, that their love and life together will lose its meaning.

Only with the help of the librarians and particularly Angela he's able to accept that's not the case, and in the final reception he once again wields her name and her gloves, carrying on her legacy and memory for the sake of the future and the new people he wants to protect.

Finally, I wanna show an incredibly interesting piece of dialogue from Leviathan, between Vergilius and Carmen.

(Leviathan chapter 18, translation by @/SnakeskinFS on twitter)

Now, Carmen's take on love is... something. Love as she means it is what we know to bring to Distortion, but it is interesting that the actual implication in the world she draws up is what the people of the City need back is contact with one another, understanding. It's also interesting Vergilius calls it a word he's unaccustomed to. Obviously here it doesn't apply strictly to romantic love, but this does check out with how little we get to see City residents... well, loving each other.

Xiao for Lowell, Roland for Angelica, as well as honestly Carmen for herself, her vision for the future, stand out in crowds of cordial coworkers and friends of circumstances, for the strength of their feelings, love in its danger and beauty. The paths they end up following are messy, some very bloody, and done in remembrance of the people they valued above all else. It's the theme of love that entwines so closely with that of death, the question of what you do when you're the one surviving and left behind.

So here's where I think of canto VI- WH is so heavily defined by grief. This is partially tied to its literary influences, partially to the author's own experience, but the story is scarred by the various funerals, each of which changes someone's life, mostly for the worse.

Is this malicious? A little. A little... not? Like in the City, the feeling is that the dead, the memory of them, follow because they love the living. When we get to Cathy's death, she and Heathcliff curse each other back and forth before making peace again, but in the end more than their harshness, what hits the most is the connection, the yearning to be reunited- "I care nothing of your sufferings" is soon followed by "I'm not wishing you greater torment than I have", which leads into the Heartbreaking speech, that we already know will be very relevant in the canto, in which Heathcliff takes her pain as his.

NOW I see readings/speculation around that this will be portrayed as lcb Cathy trying to tie Heathcliff to his past forever/them needing to Kill Her, and metaphorically his affection for her in order for him to move on and become his own person, to which I say: meh? I think that misses part of the point, makes her out to be a plot device instead of a character that, like him, has grown in an awful abusive household, and laments in her deathbed that she wishes things had been different, and that the person she loves could stay with her longer, after circumstances beyond their control have forced them apart.

By the end of it, though we know that in the book it doesn't really turn out like she'd like, Cathy claims she'd rather him remember her words, and her, as harsh and cruel than nurse anger while he lives on, she hates the thought that he should suffer more when she's gone, because she, too, feels his suffering as hers.

To me this last wish she expresses is most reminiscent of what we see of Lowell's request to Xiao, the way it's not fulfilled until the last minute. Xiao doesn't listen and she goes on, fully aware she's betraying the trust he put in her, and that she might be the next to die. Because of this betrayal, her feelings, this excess of love threatens to have the best of her, to make her forget about Lowell and focus only on herself and her anger- the "love of the self" that is the Distortion. Her final reception has her talking back to Carmen's proposal and worldview, detailing the way her bond with Lowell, but also Miris, Chun and all of her men, have been keeping her strong to this point.

(Xiao reception)

With the awareness her lover is dead and gone, she manages to work through her feelings and gain strength from them, deciding that these bonds, and her memory will keep all of them alive through each other.

SO am I saying this is totally happening to Heathcliff in canto VI. I mean, nah, not necessarily. But considering the similarities he shares with these other stories, and how we've already seen these examples of the theme of grief over a loved one being handled before in the previous games and resulting in these genuinely amazing characters, it's something I think about.

As we're talking about a game adaptation that obviously can't adapt 20 more years of story (and let's be real, shouldn't either. If you want to read WH you can just read WH,) I think that would be a reasonable way for the canto to play out: getting to see one of the sinners genuinely lose it over someone's death in a way none of the others really did, explicitly showing the uniqueness of such intense affection in a place like the City, and then slowly beginning the road to recovery. Much like for Xiao and Roland, this being done not as a result of leaving the past behind, but as a direct result of their love for another, and that of their lover as well as everyone else who cherishes them (Miris, Angela and the librarians- I think we'll soon add the sinners to the list).

(post core suppression dialogue)

To quote another bit from our bestie Yesod, the hope that grows out of the rot, as the death of another, but as your own wounded self as well.

So to conclude. I think in general, in the context of how we've seen major characters work around their grief in previous games it'd make sense for canto VI to reach a similar conclusion, the death being something that weighs heavily, but doesn't obscure the possibility of a future. Still. Love as something dangerous that has extreme power over us, but as something that lives in us and can't be taken away.

#bell.txt #limbus company #library of ruina #project moon #edit ok all screenies are captioned now. how did i write so much #its like barely even speculation im just putting together some stuff that gets me thinking about the general Vibe. i love u the city #xiao roland and heathcliff talk. dead wife club (honorific)#btw Did You Know: if canto vi releases on white day that means part 2 will release right after cathys book accurate death day. LOLLL #lcb heathcliff #xiao lor #roland lor #canto vi #edit 2: VINDICAAAAATION

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riniworld · 3 months

Note

Hmm.. How about a Yan! Prince x older! Royal sorcerer reader?

Or maybe Yan prince x siren/mermaid reader? Maybe when he gets lost at sea and when reader saves him and brings him back to shore he basically places a bounty on siren readers head and whoever brings reader to him they'll be awarded with money?

You can choose either one, doesn't really matter to me lol

I'll do the second one 'cause there's a scenario lol

no pronouns for the reader mentioned

warnings// obsession,i don't think there's anything else.

refrence// you,mermaid.

humid air is blowing,the weather is sunny and the sea is calm.

what's the best day to sail than this day?

but the prince doesn't like the sea,he just want to go back to his room and read some books or maybe even paint if he's in the mood.

but his father has insist for him to go with them.

he's seating on the edge of the ship,watching everyone working and his father telling the captain how long they will sail and when they will return,expect him,he don't have anything to do.

his father took him in a hurry and he didn't bring with him anything to wast time on.

it was a normal sailing everything went fine and boring.

it's dinner time,the prince and his father is eating in a room alone,They're on their way back to the shore.

suddenly they feel the ship moving in a wierd way,right and left.

it was a fainting movement so no one cared about it,but soon it started swaying violently,the planets fell on the ground and the two royals doing they're best to not roll with the movement of the ship.

"I'm going to see what's happening,you stay here son." the king said and start walking to the door carefully.

it's been some minutes since the king left.

the prince started feeling dizzy,he's gonna throw up in any minute

the last thing he remember is the window breaks and the water start to fill the room.

you were having your fun with the animals in the sea.

you've always loved playing with these creature and staying alone rather than being with the rest of the family.

you swam randomly, not having a specific place in mind,when you saw something or someone felling down, it looked like a human.

you're family has warned you from humans alot saying they're a dangerous creatures,and if they knew about you no one will stay well.

but you were curious plus he was nearly dead.

you swam to him getting closer carefully.

you decided to get him out of the sea,you don't want to be a reason for someone to die right?

you put him on your shoulder and swim to the shore.

you put him on the sand after checking that no one is there.

after some seconds he start coughing and groan.

you startled at his sudden movement and back away a bit.

he opened his eyes but closed them right after because of the sun.

"heck,where am i" he murmured.

you were about to leave but when he heard noises from the sea he looked at you.

you froze,you were scared that something might happen, but he kept looking at you with wide eyes.

"who-? who are you?"

you stayed silent,don't know what to say or if you should say anything at all.

but he,he was stunned. you were too beautiful to be true.

like a fairytale,something he didn't think he'll find in reality just in books,he even forget his pain.

You dived into the water the prince shouted "wait" but it was too late.

it's been two weeks,two weeks and you stayed in his mind.

he couldn't think of anything but you,he even painted you a few times now.

how could he find you again? where are you now? will he see you again?

he looked at one of his painting of you,it was right in front of his bed.

then this idea crossed his mind.

he ordered the Guards, reporters, and preachers to hang posters of you, and whoever can bring you to him will get several million.

the civilians was confused,mermaid? is there anything like that? is the prince okay?

knock knock

"come in" the prince said as someone knocked on his door

the king entered with a frown "what's the meaning of this?"

he was holding one of the posters.

"it's like what is written in it"

"...you're books started playing with your mind,what's nonsense is that? mermaid? really?"

"yes really."

"Do you know what the people are saying about you right now?"

"i don't care" he didn't even look at his father,turns the pages of the book.

"I will order to take down all of this posters"

the prince slams the book shot "no you won't"

"i will,and that's that,i just wanted to tell you to stop all that" with that the king left.

well if his father going to stand in his face,then he'll do it himself.

the night was cold,but he didn't care.

he'll stay here at the ship untill he sees a glimp of you.

he already put a pool full of sea water.

he's so sure he'll catch you,after all he spends most of his time searching on how to attract a mermaid.

Pearls were easy to obtain, as he was a prince and owned many of these shining jewels.

he put Many of them on the ship, until it becomes shone at night.

sure you'll love it right?

Many of the seaving crew were there, ready to catch something they did not know what is it or if it was real,but they couldn't disobey the prince after all

you were returning to your family when something shining caught your eye,oh it was so beautiful,like the moon has come to the earth,it won't be a problem to just see what's that right?

you swim to the top.

as soon as the prince saw a Shadow coming his way, his eyes lit up.

he orders the crew to get ready as they bring the net closer to the edge.

as soon as you put your head up a net was thrown at you.

you struggles to get out but it was too late,they already lifting you up.

you felt yourself getting in a water again and when you opened your eyes you saw the same human you saved looking at you with a wierd look.

would it be better if you let him die that day?

that was fun to write!

also if you're confused at what happened when the window breaks on the prince.

it was just his part who broke the rest of the ship was a little better but it was sinking from behind (the place where the prince was), but they were able to reach the shore before it sank completely.

have a nice day/night

masterlist

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n

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felinecryptid · 4 months

Text

A Phone Call Away

this is just goldenpunk fluff idk what else to tell you, there's no plot to this

“Hi,” Pav whispered, as soon as the call connected.

“‘ello,” Hobie hummed. “Wha’ are ya’ upto?”

“Nothing, I’m just out getting some groceries. Auntie sent me out and told me not to come back, until I find the brand of tea she likes,” Pav smiled and Hobie could feel the sun shining on his face. Then he frowned. “Are you still in bed?”

Hobie laughed. ”I was readin’ a book,” He said, holding up 1984.

“Gadhe. Tell me you've eaten something, at least,” Pav shook his head, putting a bag of potatoes in his cart.

“Ate some leftover chips, luv’, don’t worry about it.”

“I am going to worry, it’s like 2 in the afternoon at yours, and you’re still in bed. I’m not even there to cook you something.” Pav whined. Hobie felt something warm curl up in his chest.

“Awwh, babe, you love me?”

“Of course, janemann, I love you so much.” Pav held up a pack of tiny biscuits Hobie recognised to be ‘little hearts’. “I would literally kill to kiss you right now.”

“I’d die to kiss ya’.”

“Yeah.” Pavi stared at something off camera, doing some calculations with his unoccupied hand. “Hey, do you think I should get the family pack for 150 rupees or buy two 4-packs of maggi at 160?” He turned to the camera, showing a yellow pack of noodles to Hobie.

“I don't even know the difference,” said Hobie, finally getting up from his bed, looking for the copper water bottle Pav had bought for him.

Pav hummed, “I’m getting the two 4 packs,” He dumped the said items into his cart. “Should I get schezwan chutney for you?”

“The red spicy one? Oh fuck yea’ ov' course,” He said, watching the shirt ride up Pav’s shirt as he reached for the sauce on the top shelf. “It too high for you, shona?” Hobie asked, seeing the predictable blush rise up Pav's face at the hindi pet name. He loved it when Hobie tried and butchered hindi.

“Jaanu, you know I'm in public. I can't respond like I want to, that's so unfair.”

“I know, mere subah ki kiran,” He said, voice raspy, words feeling unusually rounded yet familiar.

“Hobie!”

Hobie laughed. He could see the deep, almost-maroon blush high on Pav’s cheeks.

“Have you been learning from Gayatri again?” Pav asked, voice accusatory, and a sparkle in his eyes.

“I'm not gunna conform o' deny tha',” Hobie finally found the bottle under the bed, and drained it.

“I love you so much, you ass.”

“I love ya too. Wha' time is it at yours now?”

“Around eight pm, why do you ask?”

“I thought we’d eat together, you could have dinner early and I'd’ve a late brekkie.”

“It’s a late lunch at this point,” Pav scolded. “But yes, I'd like that. What are we eating?

“Mac n' cheese?”

“You know that auntie would kill me if i told her that's my dinner.”

“Jus' tell her it's a snack.”

“You are the snack,” Pavi giggled, highly weird behaviour when in public, but Hobie liked the thought of them being disgustingly cute for everyone to see. Everyone to see their love. Everyone to see how important Pav is to him.

Another part begged him to hide Pav away bc what if his enemies hurt Pav to get at him?

Hobie shook his head, because what enemies did he have? He was a tattoo artist and Pav was a physics academic. It's not like they were fighting supervillains everyday.

Pav thought the head shaking was for his comment because he doubled down. “No you definitely are.”

“Does tha' mean you wanna eat me instead ov' the mac n’ cheese?”

“No- I mean- Yes, but what the fuck Hobie, I’m literally at the supermarket, and yes I have earphones in, but-” Someone knocks into Pav.

Hobie recognised the glint of her earrings a moment before he heard her voice. “Oh my god, Pav! You didn't tell me you were back in India?”

“Gayatri! I'm sorry, I came back like 3 days ago, and I've been too busy with packing Maya auntie’s things, I literally forget to sleep,” Pav laughed.

“Sounds like an excuse, Pavitr Prabhakar, you little bitch. If you had let me know, I'd have helped you.”

“That's exactly why I didn't tell you, aren't you working on that new movie? With Ranveer Singh in it?”

“So what, I could make time? And what kind of friend would I be if I didn't help Maya auntie and you to pack her things- Where's she going by the way?”

“Oh, uh- she's moving to the UK, in with us.”

“Oh, she's leaving?”

“Yeah, Hobie and I thought it'd be better if she lived with us and UK has better resources aur sach bolun to unko mujhe apne paas hi rakhna hai.”

“Yeah that's good, I'm going to miss her, I'll miss you both,” Gayatri's voice seemed sad. “But now I've got an excuse to barge into your house.”

“Wasn't I reason enough?”

“You? yes. Hobie? yes. Dono saath mein? Nope, thank you I'm pretty sure I’d have to bleach my eyes.”

“Thats-”

“Shut it. Speaking of hobie, show me the ring?”

Hobie watched as Pav swapped hands, bringing up his left ring finger into view, a familiar ring shining under the harsh grocery store lights.

Gayatri muffled a squeal. Pav’s grin was so wide that Hobie thought it was bleeding off him to Gayatri and him because Hobie found himself smiling into the cabinets as he took out a box of pasta.

“Ohh! kitna pyaara hai! is that real moonstone?”

“Yeah, it's covered with a thin layer of artificial diamond, it's custom made.”

“I'm so jealous. if my next partner doesn't put in at least this amount of effort, i'm breaking up,” Gayatri shoved Pav gently.

“Hobie would love to hear that. Hey, Hobie, did you hear that?” Pav turned to Hobie gleefully, Gayatri butting into the frame with a delighted look.

“Hi Angrez, wasn't stealing Pav’s heart enough? You had to take Maya auntie too?”

“Oh you can’t hear him, take my other earbud.”

Gayatri takes it, sticking out a tongue at both of them.

“Hello guruji, you are the one 'elpin' me charm them,” Hobie saluted her with the spoon he was using to scoop out salt.

“Oh my god you are so impossible, what's the status on the Kohinoor?”

“Still on the king's head, regrettably.”

“You promised to get it back if I let you have Pav-”

“Hey, am I a tradable commodity now?”

“-at this rate you have to return the entire British museum, including interest.”

“I'd gladly do tha' on its own.”

“I’m going to accompany Pav to yours to make sure you do just that. Okay, guys, you can get back to your mushiness. I need to get going.” Gayatri waved at him and handed Pav his earbud, disappearing out of frame.

Pav looked at him with a giddy smile “I saw you put pasta in water, what do you want to bet I can check this out and get a take out box in ten minutes?”

“Not one euro or a rupee, I know ya can, including Maya auntie’s favourite tea.”

“I already found it,” Pav held up a box and Hobie couldn't resist blowing a kiss.

“You're on then,” He said, holding up a bag of shredded mozzarella. “Let’s see who gets mac n’ cheese done first.”

___

Translation:

gadhe - you ass (but this is the animal ass)

janemann - love of my life (not exactly but close enough)

maggi - verrrryyy popular desi masala ramen noodles

copper infusion water is considered healthy hence the copper bottle

schezwan chutney - a chilli garlic paste its delicious idk the recipe

shona - gold/love

jaanu - my life

mere subah ki kiran - my morning sunshine

Ranveer Singh - famous actor

aur sach bolun to unko mujhe apne paas he rakhna hai - and to be honest, i want her to stay close to me

dono saath me - both of you together

kitna pyaara hai - its so cute

angrez - foreigner (of the english kind)

guruji - extremely respectful word for teacher (when i say extremely respectful i mean it)

kohinoor - famous diamond stolen from india during British Raj

A/N:

this took me forever to edit

i tried a different process of writing which was quicker to finish but took so long to edit iwndiedksndid but ill do this again bc i like this way much better

this fic was inspired by my parents shout out to them for doing long distance straight after marriage with a 1 year old (me) i could never

comment if ya want more bc they keep me alive

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mayullla · 1 year

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Title: Golden Mirror

Character(s): Mirror Demon(?) (Unnamed character/original work)

Summary: You were a princess, beautiful and lovely you weren't meant for the bloodshed of the king's seat. Cautious of when a knife would go through your chest you choose to make a deal with a mirror once forgotten in one of the many old storage rooms.

Warnings: Fem!reader, general yandere themes, violence and blood, horror elements

You hate the mirror on the wall. You hated what it has turned you into.

You should have cast it away when you had the chance. Burn it calling it but a witch's catalyst. Yet you were too naive, too naive to its promises and words.

It gave you everything yet nothing at the same time, your dreams of becoming a queen of a nation it gave, riches, money and fame it gave but as payment, it took away your freedom.

You were a small child when you roamed the halls that were the castle's walls. You were a princess, one of many in the family. Ignored and uncared for your title was mere decoration compared to your older brothers and sisters who wished to be rulers of the kingdom.

You played often in the huge gardens when you didn't have lessons, and you roamed around the library in search of an interesting book to read. Travel along the castle in search of places you have yet seen before. One such place is a small storage room filled with antiques forgotten by everyone.

It was a treasure cove in your eyes, interested in finding a treasure or hidden gems but everything was old and rotten after years of abandonment.

All except one.

It was an elegant mirror once covered by a rug till you took it off, clean and polish the frame was made out of gold roses and rubies so beautiful that you could only gasp at how pretty it was. “Pretty!” you said in enchantment when you heard a voice chuckling and then eyes appearing in the mirror you could only scream in fear as you ran away from it scared of something lurking behind it.

You never went back to that room after that day, too scared to come back when something dangerous hid in it. You choose to forget, choosing to be ignorant of the monster in the storage closet. After all everyone looked at you weirdly when you told them about that room, stating that there was no such room in the first place...

Time passed and you grew up to be a darling princess, bright and happy people would say yet it was far from reality. You were ignorant… Spoiled as a princess wanting love yet unable to understand how to get it.

They looked down on you.

You weren't the only one to grow, your father the king so soon, so suddenly passed away leaving the throne and crown empty.

Many tried to take the throne you were thrown into the chaos as well whether you like it or not. Targetted as a potential threat to a future your sibling wants.

You wanted to run away but most of all you wanted to survive.

It has been too long since you stumbled upon the storage door late at night. Alone you want a place of privacy for you found even your bed hard to sleep in.

The mirror was the first thing you see, the blanket that once covered the mirror was still on the floor moved away by your young self. The gold frame and mirror itself didn't even have a lick of dust despite it.

You didn't run away this time when you heard a voice greeting you in mirth. You asked what they were yet they didn't answer. But they gave you something else instead.

A deal.

They would let you become queen, and they would help you survive in this cruel castle where all your sibling want is your neck.

They will keep you safe all in exchange for your blood.

You were too desperate for all you want is to survive. All you want is to live, to see the next day for you feared death and pain.

On the floor lies a knife stained by blood as you let the blood from the long cut on your palm drench the mirror's reflection.

You didn't understand that you signed your soul to them. Bound by them forever even after death and they would never let go.

A promise it kept drenching the walls of the palace with blood and screams. The pain and anguish as you watch your siblings killed one by one, gore and pain were everywhere your ears ringing by their pain. You wanted everything to stop, you want everything to stop as you begged them to stop.

Yet all they did was coo at you softly taking gently forcing you into a corner talking as if it was obvious that you be scared. Stay here. They were only fulfilling your wish.

You can't see where they were. Their hands and body were invisible to the eyes but there was a way to see them look in the mirror and there you can't help but shiver as you make eye contact. The smile on their face, wicked and delighted still cooing at you as you watched them touch your cheeks keeping your head in place from looking away from the mirror. You didn't remember what they said, pretty little thing so frightened that they could not move.

They told you that they would bring you the throne. That they will place you on the top where no one can touch you but them, that you will be the queen of the kingdom and they would never leave your side.

You didn't want this you didn't want this at all. Yet you can't stop it, no matter how much you beg.

They told you to smile, a whisper that only you could hear for they fulfilled their contract and you are now the queen. The little touches they left in your arms felt like the wind which you let yourself believe as you passed by mirrors that littered the walls. Big and small you choose to ignore the shadow following you, near you.

When you headed to the hall where the king, your husband and the people waited. Hollow things, as death took them long ago leaving nothing but puppets for the monster to use to their amusement. Nothing in this castle truly belonged to you, and nothing in this kingdom belonged to you after all you didn't ask for anything but to save your life.

Note: This is somewhat inspired by the mirror and the evil queen in snow white hope you like it!!

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hollyhoneybear · 8 months

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【 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 】 - reversed fates

What if the roles were reversed? Instead of Athy being reincarnated, what if it was Jennette? ... a hypothetical au I've been musing about

Let's imagine: some girl from, I'm gonna say Belgium (just something other than Korea) read Lovely Princess, but died in some tragic accident.

I wouldn't say.. she liked the book. She recognized it was very childish, and most of the characters were quite shallow. She didn't understand how certain characters, like Claude, were paraded as Paragons in the book, when they were clearly bad people.

She didn't have much of an opinion on Jennette; just that everything catered to her. Now.. a character she really genuinely liked, was Athanasia.

Despite being a threat to her position, Athanasia taught Jennette the ways of the Palace, and never tried to harm her, even as her dream of Claude loving her slipped away into Jennette's hands.

So this (for now nameless) girl was shocked and appauled when Athanasia was accused of poisoning Jennette. She couldn't be more angry! The one character who seemed to have some sense of morals (aside from Jennette, generally) was mercilessly killed off in the most gruesome way imagineable.

It's not very clear in the Manhwa what state Jennette was in when she was poisoned (the Manhwa and Novel are DIFFERENT, people). But in my interpretation, Jennette was unconcious dealng with.. y'know, being poisoned. It was too late by the time she woke up.

Our protagonist rage-quits the novel after that, having no desire to read the "happy ending" everyone gets despite her favorite character's demise.

She's ready to move on with her life and forget that awful book, but.. looses her life soon after.

...

Now is the start to my ideas for after she reincarnates. Yay!

...

After reincarnating, it doesn't take her long to realize the perdiciment she's in.

She'd become Jennette, the Female Lead of "Lovely Princess"! Unlike most heroines in her position, her fate seemed to be pretty good. Seemed.

You see, she never finished the novel. She had no idea what happened after Athanasia was executed. It's an assumption to say that Jennette, Claude, Ijekiel and the Duke had happy endings.

Despite that, she knew there wasn't any kind of impending doom awaiting her. So for a while, she was pretty chill.

By the time she was a few months old, the reality of this world had been weighing on her. This was her new life; it wasn't a book, the people in it were real. Athanasia was real.

For a while, she wasn't exactly sure what to do. Should she just.. not get introduced to Claude? But defying the Duke wouldn't exactly be easy. And even if she never gets introduced, it's not like Claude would just start loving Athy anyway; he never did, so why would he start out of nowhere?

There wasn't much she could do yet as an infant, anyway

...

After she turned 4, she realized Jennette's "Happy Life" wasn't as glorified as it was in the novel.

Ijekiel was nice enough, for the time. But the Duke was another story. He wasn't outwardly cruel like Claude, but it became apparent to Jennette that the Duke in the novel didn't have Jennette as his ward because he "just wanted her to be happy".

Jennette was being used by the Duke to get to the throne. That much, she understood early on.

It made sense to her then. He must have conspired with Jennette's aunt to place her on the throne. I mean, why else would Rosalia frame Athanasia? For kicks and giggles?

..That made our current Jennette very angry. In the novel, Jennette didn't even care about the throne, yet she was used by everyone around her for power.

Both Athanasia and Jennette were failed by the adults around them. It wasn't fair that just because she existed, Athanasia was going to die..

That's when she decided. With the OP powers and plot armor as the Female Lead, she was going to make Athanasia's dreams come true, and give everyone a happy ending!

She knew that she couldn't avoid being used by the Duke, being introduced to Claude in some way. So she decided it would be on her own terms.

If Claude loved Jennette in the novel, he could love Athanasia. Right? In this world where everything exists to make the Protagonist happy, if her one wish is for she, Athanasia and Claude to be a happy family, surely it would have to happen..

..Right?

#to be continued?#wmmap #wmmap jennette #who made me a princess #who made me a princess jennette #whomademeaprincess #wmmap x reader #suddenly became a princess one day #wmmap athanasia #athy #athykiel #lucathy #lucajen

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spookyspecterino · 7 months

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Soft Moments in the Stars

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used.

Anxiety, worry, some fear (Sam is there to comfort you and calm you down). Comfort, breathing exercises, reassurance.

Staring out into the stars, while everyone sleeps, your mind starts to worry. Sam notices you're awake and stays up with you.

Characters: Sam Coe. Mentions of Cora Coe, Sarah, Barrett, and Andreja.

Haha, bet you didn't expect another so soon! This is short. But I really needed it. Now that the poll requests are done, I can get into the heavier more plot related stuff >:) (Aka: my sad era)

Staring up at the stars, what a primal instinct it’s been for all of humanity since the dawn of creation. The unknown, the curiosity, the wonder in it. How long have humans been looking up at the night sky? And how many of your ancestors have done just the same; sitting, staring, and questioning?

What’s out there? How do you fit in to any of it? In this vast field of stars, of people, of planets—why are you the one to go on this cosmic journey?

New Atlantis had too much light pollution to look up and stargaze at night. Akila city had too much dust and sand in the air. But now, in the cockpit of the Frontier, the entire universe stretches out for your curious, pondering eyes.

Quiet moments, when everyone is asleep and the ship drifts across the blackest sea, are rare. It’s an opportunity to sit and really think. At times, maybe the constant hustle and bustle from place to place, mission to mission, is good. It’s a distraction, that much is clear. The lively conversations among your crew, Sarah jotting down notes about unexplored systems, Cora with her enthusiastic book reports—is comforting.

You may not always have them. It may be, in time, this quiet, contemplative silence is all you have left.

It’s a chilling, anxiety-ridden truth that you’ve been forced to think of more and more. Especially now.

With every new temple you discover, every new power you gain, a rift grows between you and the others. There’s a distinct feeling to it.

Sarah and Noel look at you like you’re something to be studied. Barrett uses constant humor and jokes to cover his nervousness. Andreja feels threatened by the power imbalance.

Only Sam continues to treat you the same.

Sam—wonderful, optimistic, loving, Sam.

Your shining light in the dark.

Every outcome is uncertain, but his promises of staying with you—always being at your side, no matter what—is a comfort unlike anything else.

A long-winded sigh leaves you. Your mind can’t help but wander into the worst-case scenarios or worry about the unknown. If these temples turn you into some kind of monster… what then? If your destiny takes you on a different path than his, how can you see it coming? Could you even prevent it?

What about Cora? Will she grow up without you? Her own path taking her elsewhere?

Is this all for nothing? Is this endless space an indifferent, uncaring, void that only seeks to be filled with violence—

Soft hands caress your tense shoulders. “Hey. What’re you doing up?”

Like a light switch being flipped, the anxious, spiraling thoughts cease. A lucid calm washes over you.

You lean back in your pilot’s seat, feeling the warmth of Sam behind you. “Couldn’t sleep.” You murmur.

He hums softly, leaning down closer to you. “What’s bothering you, sweetheart?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Hmm…” He presses soft kisses to your shoulder, gently kneading the other. “Describe how you’re feeling.”

“Frustrated. I guess. I have so many questions.”

His thumbs move to massage between your shoulder blades. “I can tell, you’re very tense.”

This makes you chuckle, a breathy and tired sound. You can feel his short beard against your neck. His lips ghost over your skin. “Come back to bed, we can work some of that frustration out.”

A very tempting offer. Other nights you would happily accept to be whisked away in his arms, forget everything, and curl up next to him to start a new day. But something stops you.

He can feel your hesitation. His lips hover and his hands pause.

“It’s…It’s not just that…” You frown at the stars. Sam’s faint reflection in the glass watches you with caring, patient eyes.

“I’m…I’m scared—terrified, actually.” As if a great floodgate opens, you release your thoughts into the still air. “I don’t know what’s coming next; I rely on Constellation to have at least some idea of what we’re getting into. Seeing Sarah and Noel just as confused as I am…it’s really unsettling. These temples and powers…what if they change me into someone—or something—unrecognizable?”

Your breath quickens. “I don’t know what to do. There’s so much responsibility on my shoulders now, it’s all so sudden. What if I screw up? What if I get someone hurt—what if I get you hurt? Or if I make the wrong choice and—”

“Whoa, whoa. Easy. Take a deep breath.”

You do, filling your lungs just as he does, as he guides you along.

In and out. Slow. In and out.

Your heart calms, just a little, but your racing thoughts still tumble around your mind. “Thanks.” You whisper, leaning your head back against his shoulder and closing your eyes.

“Stand up. I wanna hold you.”

His hands guide you out of the chair, sliding under your arms and around you like a safety net. Your hands lay over his. They’re always so warm, while yours are always cold.

His body presses against yours, flooding you with his warmth, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He murmurs into your skin. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. I will always be with you.” His fingers tangle with yours, smooth and practiced.

“It’s natural to make mistakes—and it’s not your fault. You’re learning just like the rest of us. There’s no way you can predict the future, so go easy on yourself. Making mistakes is human.” He trails light kisses up your neck to the shell of your ear. “As for everything else—we take it one step at a time, together. If something doesn’t feel right, we can adjust or take a break. Don’t push yourself. The universe isn’t going anywhere.”

Tears dot the corner of your eyes as you smile and nod. Your voice is barely a whisper. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime, love.”

You take some more steadying breaths, feeling your lungs fill and empty out rhythmically. “You always know exactly what to say.”

He chuckles, his breath is warm against your skin. “I know you, and I know how it feels to be weighed down by anxious thoughts.”

After a few more minutes of watching the stars, feeling your mind slow and your thoughts ease, “I think I’m ready for bed now.”

“You sure? I can give you some more time alone if you need it.”

“Nah.” You turn in his arms to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You’re greeted with the softest blue eyes and a loving smile. “I’m good now.”

Sam presses his forehead to yours. “I love you. You know that right?”

“Of course.” You press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.”

His content, happy, sigh—one of your favorite noises—lifts your heart out of the gloom.

#sam coe #sam coe x reader #starfield #gn reader

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ra-archives · 14 days

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The Inconveniences of Resurrection

- - -

3/? Chapters Posted

Part 3 of 'Breaking Point'

- - -

TW: Past Character Death, Blood, Gore, (Others to be added with updates)

- - -

The first few weeks of traveling together are a learning curb, to say the least.

Its not necessarily bad, just... complicated. A group of heroes with strong personalities is bound to clash when their forced to live with eachother for the next however long. People make friends and bonds, and some people start to work wonderfully in moments. Some people clash, arguing over leadership, tactics, the lot of it.

Legend finds himself on the more, argumentative sides of things. He finds himself butting heads with Warriors most often. The captain is too commanding for his taste, treating them more like soldiers than equals or even acquaintances. So Legend pushes back, and perhaps he's a bit of an asshole, but its all a learning curb. Warriors lets his commanding nature slip, and Legend stops picking fights at every tiny thing he says.

The first month or so is like a puzzle, trying to find where everyone falls and fits without bumping elbows and stepping on each others feet. Its not a pretty dance, and Warriors is far from the only person he's had fights with, but learning to adapt is a necessary skill in a heroes arsenal. And he does, he compromises and works together, so as those first weeks are coming to a close, he finds himself much more comfortable in the dynamic the Chain has made for themselves.

Thats not to say there aren't still things to learn after the first few rocky weeks. There's plenty more bumps and bruises afterwards. Like the first night Wild spent on the ground. Thats something he won't be forgetting any time soon.

- - -

When they first stumbled through a portal into Wilds era and met him, Legend had clocked him as... odd. The champion had plenty of weird mannerisms, refusing to sleep on the ground, offering everyone bananas, a knack for setting things on fire 'accidentally', but nothing was that out of the ordinary. At least, nothing out of the ordinary when you're using a group of heroes as your baseline.

Wild hasn't really done anything to earn himself distrust, but Legend can't help the few steps to the side he takes every time the Champions around. He makes something in Legends chest twist, and its made worse by the way no one else sees it. The rest of the Chain interacts with Wild nicely, even delightedly in some cases. Even Hyrule, who's known for being skittish, doesn't seem bothered by their new addition. So Legend keeps his mouth shut.

That doesn't mean he's not curious though. He spends a lot of downtime staring and studying Wild, probably too much. The Champion catches him sometimes and shifts uncomfortably, and Legend shoves his nose into the book he's been pretending to be reading for the past twenty minutes. They never talk about it.

Todays one of those days. They're walking another old dusty path, headed some place he doesn't know or care for. So the vet spends his time at the back of the group, staring at the back of Wilds head.

- - -

Read More Here!

- - -

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wild #lu legend #lu fic #lu fanfiction #my writing

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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Austin: Prologue [Owen Sleater x F!Reader]

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read Me on AO3

Chapter Summary: You receive an ominous letter from Enoch Thompson. It brings back memories of your past, memories you would much rather forget because they could get you into a lot of trouble, and you find yourself backed into a corner that you have to find a way out of.

Chapter Warnings: Murder, blood, canon typical violence, assault (not sexual), alcohol consumption, organized crime, flashback

Word Count: 6.4K

A/n: About damn time I started writing for Owen. I fell in love with him from the moment he first appeared on screen. This idea was a lot more complex than a simple One Shot in my head, even though I thought about writing one first, so now you're getting a series. Because I just can’t help myself. The Boardwalk Empire fandom seems fairly small, but I hope my fellow Charlie-obsessed people on here appreciate this story regardless.

Set from Season 2 episode 9 onward!

This series is rated E for explicit! 18+ only!

The evening sun relentlessly burns down on the cemented sidewalks from the magenta skies above. Not a cloud is to be seen. Cars roll over the paved asphalt roads leading through the city, past the many pedestrians peeking through the many storefronts, always looking for something new to buy.

Every once in a while, a swarm of birds breaks free from the trees and wanders to the next. It’s a small glimpse of nature that lies behind the city center of Austin, Texas, but a small glimpse is better than none.

Each dollar bill that slips through your fingers feels like paper gold. In a patriarchal society, all everyone ever sees are men sitting in their ivory towers and spitting at those who dare to threaten their position. They can’t imagine themselves to fall lower than the rest.

You are far beyond any of that. You’re not insecure in your power. You don’t need to show it off to know that you have succeeded. Your anger may burn brighter than the force of a thousand suns, and you may be far more powerful than any man could ever fathom to be, but you would never see yourself above anyone else.

One thing almost all men seem to have in common, you have come to realize, is that they underestimate the power of a woman scorned. And that is a very dangerous thing to do.

The windows in your office are open, allowing a gentle breeze to cool down the summer heat that has stuck itself to the walls. As you count the money in your hands, you can’t help but watch the sun slowly set over Austin.

You take another sip of Whiskey. The label on the back of the bottle reads Mr. Austin’s Finest. Only about a quarter left.

You trace the condensation with a finger along the crystal of the glass. The brown liquid shimmers in the fading sunlight. You will have to supply your own office with another shipment soon enough, but for now, you have enough to enjoy the flavor just a little longer—the one flavor that will always remind you of being a little girl in a small town in the middle of nowhere, who made it to the city of Austin against all odds. It tastes like home, in a way.

To you, Austin is more than a city. It’s more than your mother’s hometown, more than the capital of the State you were born in and have never left for more than one week at a time, and it’s more than the home of the most valuable business you could ever run. It’s who you are. It may have been a name of convenience, and not even a very creative one at that, but it saved your life.

Your eyes scan the books spread out before you. Production. Distribution. Expenses. Profit. Names. Two notebooks, three tables, five columns. You count each dollar bill with precision, fold the stacks into neat packages, and wrap them up with porous rubber bands from the first drawer in your desk. The rest, you place into an envelope.

The floorboards creak, and you divert your attention from your work to the doorway. “Beth,” you say.

She offers you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss, but I just received a letter from you that wasn’t with the earlier correspondence,” she says.

Elizabeth Brown. She was the only person in all of Austin who, when you first got there, showed you that she understood the real meaning of discretion. Now, you would trust her with your life, and you value her opinion more than that of your associates. There is something about a good heart worth so much more than ruthlessness, even in a business that requires your heart to be made out of ice so you won’t get hurt.

But even Beth has her secrets.

You exhale audibly, swallowing the last sip of your drink before setting the glass down on the deep brown Mahogany.

“That’s unusual,” you state. “Where’s it from?”

Beth takes another step into your office, her heels transitioning from the wooden floorboards to the soft carpet. “Um,” she holds out the envelope in front of her, “It’s from Atlantic City. I haven’t opened it yet, so I don’t know if it’s important. I can still put it with the others if you’d like.”

You carefully observe her body language. She isn’t lying, merely confused.

“No.” You pat your desk. “Leave it here.”

She crosses the threshold and places the envelope next to your hand. “Is there anything else you need, Miss?”

Looking up at her, you shake your head with a smile. “I want you to finish up and take an early evening. Go home, see your children,” you tell her. “You shouldn’t waste your time in this office when you could be with your family.”

Something about the way her face lights up with the gratitude that wraps her fragile heart in a warm hug makes you feel a little better about yourself.

“Thank you so much,” she says. “You really are incredibly generous.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. You’ve been working so hard, you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

She sighs happily. With a gentle, “Have a good night. And thank you again,” she turns on her heel and makes her way out of your office to gather her things in the foyer.

You are well aware that her job—working with you and getting caught up in whatever criminal chaos you engage in—puts her future at risk every day, and yet every day, she comes back to work.

Not that she has much of a choice, anyway. You loathe yourself for being incapable of offering her one. Beth stays because she believes that she owes you, and that alone adds another hundred tons of weight to the bricks that are already weighing heavily on your heart.

You reach for the envelope. The paper feels expensive underneath your fingertips. You turn it around to see who sent it, and the name strikes a chord before it has even been fully processed. Your body knows that something isn’t quite right. The sense of doom that fills you hangs over your head like the blade of a guillotine, ready to separate your head from your body.

Enoch Thompson.

“Fuck,” you curse.

He is a man whose reputation precedes him. County treasurer. Bootlegger. The man who used to run the city. And definitely, a man who knows how to make a dime or two in ways that leave even the actions you had to take in the past year shaking in their boots. You may be a quiet contender, but you always have your eyes and ears everywhere.

The letter itself feels just as fancy as the envelope. You put down the blade you used to open it. Never before had someone rubbed their wealth in your face quite like Enoch Thompson just did.

With a heavy heart, you begin to read his delicate handwriting. It seems shaky, in a way, as though his dominant hand was injured when he wrote it.

Dear Mr. Austin,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. You may not know me because so far, we haven’t had the pleasure to make each other’s acquaintance. From what I’ve heard, your reputation precedes you, and I went to great lengths to find a way to contact you.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Enoch Thompson, and I have reasons to believe that we were both once acquainted with the same man.

Seeing your late father’s name on paper, your blood runs cold. The oxygen escapes your lungs and refuses to return. You skim over the letters over and over again until your head is spinning.

I was deeply saddened to hear about his passing. And I was even more saddened to hear that his only living relative—a daughter, for all I know—passed away suddenly a year later. That family left a great legacy behind.

Your vision blurs. With every line, with every statement, and with every well-concealed jab, you feel like you are being led to the slaughterhouse.

I remember him well, though it has been many years. He came to me in Atlantic City with a dream, and I couldn’t help but invest in him. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw his name on the back of a bottle of Austin’s finest rum. A fine spirit, I must say.

I am glad to see that his legacy has found a way to live on in a great mind such as yourself.

In your father’s journal, he always portrayed Nucky as a trustworthy ally. A friend. After moving to Austin, you studied every word he wrote, and the few times he mentioned Atlantic City, he never lost a bad word about Enoch Thompson, which, considering his reputation, always surprised you, but you had never felt the need to doubt your father’s judgment of his friends.

Now though, you are slowly coming to realize that you may have underestimated the secrets he took with him to the grave—that his judgment may not have been as infallible as you thought it was—and your veins flood with pure, unbridled fear.

Fearlessness is a myth, but you usually have better control over your emotions than this.

I understand that you are a man of influence in the southern regions, and your business ventures have not gone unnoticed. In light of recent events here in Atlantic City, I believe there may be an opportunity for us to help each other. You see, due to recent events, I have chosen to step down from my position as treasurer. The landscape of this city is changing rapidly, and I could use a man of your resources and capabilities to help me rebuild.

I know you prefer to keep a low profile, and I am aware of the risk involved in such endeavors, but I assure you, a meeting would be of great benefit to both of us. Besides, I would love to finally meet you in person, Mr. Austin.

One hand washes the other. It’s a concept as old as time, but it is also incredibly fragile. In a case such as this, a chance of leaving even a speck of dirt behind remains, and then one person is bound to lose. You have seen it happen more times than you can count.

You ought to be careful, playing with fire; Enoch Thompson could bring on an inferno that you may not be able to counter with your own.

I encourage you to think about my offer, and I hope I will see you soon in Atlantic City.

Yours sincerely,

Enoch Thompson.

The force with which you rise from your chair causes it to slide a good few inches back against the wall.

“Beth?” you call out into the silence. Into the darkness.

For a moment, it seems like she has already left, but not even half a minute later, she pokes her head into your office.

“Miss?” she answers.

You let out a sigh of relief. “I know I said you can leave early, but I need you to call Leo and tell him to find out as much about Enoch Thompson as he can and bring it to me,” you say. “Tonight. I don’t care what he has to do to get the information, I need it in the next five hours.”

“Of course. Right away. Do you want me to ring Mr. Johnson as well? It sounds rather urgent.”

“No, I’ll take care of Anthony. Right now, I just need Leo. Can you do that for me?”

The desperation in your voice leaves no space for arguments. Beth nods, and she quickly turns away to tend to her new responsibilities with careful urgency. When the storm in your eyes becomes visible, she knows that no one in your vicinity is safe.

Another silent curse passes your lips. You reach for the bottle of Mr. Austin’s Finest again. It was your father’s recipe; you merely adjusted it to fit the needs of the general public. This particular brand was his idea, his legacy, as much as the rum was.

If someone hadn’t tried to steal all your family stood for, you wouldn’t be standing here, but right now, you are not so sure if it is something you should be happy about. You made mistakes, and if there is even the slightest chance that he know, you are beyond fucked.

The desk almost splinters underneath your fist when you land it on the tabletop.

You touch your neck. Most physical bruises don’t last for longer than three months, but as you place your hand against your throat, you can feel the blood pulsing underneath your fingertips. You can still feel the indentation of his fingers that faded a long time ago. And you can still feel his hands around your throat, applying an inhuman amount of pressure to your fragile windpipe.

Every breath you take burns like a thousand wildfires, rivaling the adrenaline that is threatening to burst your veins.

You can see him clearly when you close your eyes. It’s not liquor. You are not drunk. The letter on the desk before you triggered a chain reaction of memories, and you are not strong enough to tune them out.

You remember that his blood stuck to your skin like corn syrup, running through your fingers and onto your dress, painting the wooden floorboards a deep maroon. You could have sworn you could even smell the faintest hint of copper in the air. But your senses weren’t that powerful.

He was just lying there—a man you’d known since you were a child in a pool of his blood with a golden pocket knife buried deep in his chest while you were cowering in the corner as if the knife had never been in your shaky hand in the first place.

Your father raised you to be an independent woman in a world where women have always been seen as property. You made peace with the fact that you would never be able to take over the family business because at least you knew that your father believed in your ability to fight your own battles. Still, he died, and a few months later, the Prohibition Act took what little you had left at that point away from you.

You had never planned to come back to your little Texas hometown. You’d had a good job working for a good family, saving up to leave the country behind for good; you had always wanted to go to Paris.

The only thing your father had left you was your childhood home, and you cherished it with all you had. Until the father of the family you worked for lost his job, and they had to let you go. You were no longer able to pay the expenses of the house, so you had to let it go. It took only a few days for your entire life to crumble. You had been miserable, but the thought of killing a man had never crossed your mind until it happened.

You had come back to your hometown to say goodbye. To clean out your childhood home and start anew somewhere with what little money the house would have brought you. But Henry Boyd had other plans that night.

One moment, you were on your way to the only speakeasy in town, wanting to check out what it was all about, and the next you found yourself at home with bruises around your neck and blood on your hands.

“I want to thank you all for being so patient with me,” he had said as he stood high on one of the tables in the golden establishment. “It is an honor to be here today, with you all, and announce that your favorite brand of whiskey and rum is officially back in business!”

As blurry as the night is in your mind, you still vividly remember watching him lift the bottle with the emblem that had become so eerily familiar to you because you grew up seeing it on every bottle on your father’s shelf. But the bottle in front of you had someone else’s name on it—someone who promised you that he would keep what he knew in confidence after the government shut down the business your father left him—and it dawned on you like a gray cloud threatening to break down on you in strikes of lightning.

The crowd around you erupted in applause. And from that moment on, your entire world started to blur. The anger that consumed you was new, unbridled, and before you knew it, you were storming out of the building into the crisp night air.

How much can a person possibly bleed after having their throat slashed? You had never asked yourself that question up until that point. To be fair, six pints in a human body don’t sound like a lot until all six pints are right in front of you.

Six pints of blood on your living room floor, and in it, the corpse of Henry Boyd.

He came to your house. He threatened you. You had known this man for over two decades before that, and he still disappointed you because once it benefitted him the most, he turned his back on you and your late father’s legacy as if it had never meant anything to him other than means to make money.

You had no choice. Your father gave you his favorite pocket knife with the golden handle when you were sixteen, telling you to always carry it with you in case you would ever need to protect yourself.

“You never know when you need to stab a man, kid,” he told you. “You should be able to defend yourself. I won’t always be around, and you shouldn’t have to rely on anyone other than yourself.”

You had to do it. You had to kill Henry. If you hadn’t, he would have killed you.

When the realization settled over the fog, it was like someone slapped you across the face and injected you with cocaine.

You remember rising to your feet. Every step you took squelched with the blood stuck to your soles. It is a well-known fact that blood doesn’t easily wash out of clothes. You never thought it would be the same for skin.

You scrubbed your hands wildly, but the water kept turning redder and redder. It has settled underneath your fingernails and the depths of your cracked knuckles.

A sob broke out of your throat when you caught a glimpse of Henry’s body in the living room, and it hit you again, stronger this time. Like a jolt of electricity.

He had promised you to keep your father’s legacy safe after they shut down the factory. He had promised he would tell the truth, always because you were your father’s daughter, after all. He had promised, then turned his back on you and betrayed you anyway.

You couldn’t let them arrest you. You couldn’t allow them to put you in prison. And you couldn’t disappoint your father like that, not after all that happened and the things you had to do.

In a split second, you made a decision that would haunt you for the rest of your life, but it was the only right one at the time. You had to burn your bridges if you wanted to make it out of this. You already knew back then that you were going to hell one day; you could confess your sins another time.

Reading books and educating yourself all of your childhood taught you a thing or two about how to deal with a seemingly impossible situation.

Your dress landed together with your undergarments next to the body. In the bath, you scrubbed yourself down until not a trace of Henry’s blood was left on you. By the time you were done, your skin was red and breaking out into hives, but at least you were clean.

There was nothing left holding you there. Everything you once held dear had gone with the wind. Died. Passed on.

You were never destined for this kind of life. Always the only child despised by everyone but her own father because she never acted appropriately enough. Because she had never been girl enough. Because she refused to conform to what was expected of her. Because her father had not cared about anything other than raising a smart young person who could fend for herself.

You cleaned out the hidden compartment in your father’s bedroom that held all the journals he kept on the business. You were the only one he ever told about it. And you took the bottle of Whiskey you hid underneath the mattress together with all the money Henry had on him when he came to you.

You felt like you had somehow violated his corpse by stealing from him—you remember the feeling as clear as day—but you just followed mere instinct that night. You had to do whatever it took to survive.

You tipped the bottle of liquor and poured it over Henry’s lifeless frame. It mixed with the blood, liquifying it again. You could barely feel it, even as it stained your fingers for the millionth time that night. You were going to scrub it off again, and then you were going to burn this last bridge for good.

You didn’t want to have another choice. That was the terrifying part. Part of you liked what you did. You truly believed, for the longest time, that the devil had possessed you that night. You could not stand idly by and watch your castle crumble down at the hands of a man who had never dared to think about anyone but his miserable self.

The lighter in your hand clicked. Your nose filled with the scent of gasoline. One advantage of living in the countryside was the visible distance between the houses. If there had been a fire in the neighborhood, it would have taken hours until someone reported it, and by then it would already have been too late. You used that to your advantage.

For Henry, it had been too late ever since you slit his throat, but he wasn’t the only bridge you had to burn.

“Forgive me, Father,” you remember whispering, but not to God or a priest; you were saying it to your father’s lost soul, in the hopes he would be listening.

The lighter slipped from your fingers with a little push, and the liquor on the floor reacted instantly with the spark of flames. As your childhood home burned to the ground, you turned your back on the past. You turned your back on your sins and all you had ever loved, and you built a wall around your heart that you swore no one would ever be able to get through again.

“I’d like to purchase a ticket, please,” you told the man behind the counter at the train station the same night. Well, it was early morning by then.

“Where to?” he asked.

The postcard in your coat pocket had a very distinctive postmark on it. You still keep it locked in your desk. It was the first letter your mother ever sent to your father.

“Austin,” you said, looking up from underneath the hat you were wearing. “I’m going to Austin, sir.”

“Really? You have business there?”

“You could say that.”

But, looking at the letter Enoch Thompson sent you, now, eighteen months later, the small flicker of hope that reignited when your train rolled into Austin that night burns out in front of your weary eyes.

“Boo!”

Your head snaps toward the doorway again. “Jesus, Leo!” You press a hand against your chest. “You just scared the living daylights out of me.”

The fourteen-year-old boy smirks at your reaction. “Since when are you this jumpy?” he asks.

“I’m not jumpy,” you retort. “How about you learn how to fucking knock?”

He raises his arms in mock surrender. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I just thought that, since you asked me here, you would be expecting me.”

“I gave you five hours. And don’t call me ma’am.”

You don’t usually smoke, but when your pulse is racing and you feel sick to your stomach like you do know, it is all you can do to get your mind back in order. You grab the pack from a drawer in your desk, instantly overwhelmed by the stench of tobacco, but you light it anyway.

Leo approaches you. He’s a lot more confident than Beth is. She always acts as though she were stepping into a lion’s den, and maybe in a way, that’s true. Leo sees himself as part of the pack. A cub. He’s a teenager with too big of an openness to getting in trouble. You would call him a rebel, but even that would be an understatement. He’s much more than that, with a good head on his shoulders.

“It only took me two. Not that it matters,” he says. “As it turns out, a lot of people have opinions about Nucky Thompson that they have just been waiting to share with someone willing to listen.”

You frown, looking down at the watch on your wrist. “It’s already been two hours? How?”

“I don’t know. I don’t study the way time works. I haven’t even finished school yet.”

“Did I ask for a smartass answer?” you snap, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.

“No?” Leo pouts. “At least I don’t think you did.”

“Then don’t give me one. Jesus! How long have we known each other now?”

“Long enough to know that you only get mad like that when you’ve had a rough day.”

You scoff. “Rough is an understatement.” Another breath of nicotine fills your lungs. The words you’ve said repeat in your mind, and your heart cracks a little. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, kid. You’re just here to do your job.”

The cigarette lands in the ashtray on the top right corner of your desk, your tongue still filled with the bitterness it tainted your body with. Walking over to your mini bar to replace the empty bottle of Whiskey with some rum in your glass, you clear your throat and decide to change the subject to what concerns you.

“So, Enoch Thompson. Nucky.” You open the fresh bottle of rum. “What did you find out about him?”

“Well, he’s one of the leading powers of the liquor trade down there, but you probably already knew that. Or well, he was. That’s the important part. Apparently, the people he used to work with have turned against him, and he had to step down as County Treasurer.”

“I’ve heard as much through the grapevine. What would interest me is why he did that.”

You finish pouring your glass.

“May I have one of those?” Leo asks and points at your drink.

“When you’re older,” you answer.

“So your employees don’t even get to taste the, uh, merchandise anymore?”

You roll your eyes. “They do when they’re older than fourteen. Now, answer my question.” You turn back toward your desk and take a sip. “Why did Nucky Thompson step down as treasurer? Surely there is a reason his…empire started turning against him.”

As you sit back down, Leo steps in front of you. He isn’t very tall, but what he lacks in height he makes up in attitude.

He reaches out and takes the glass from you, completely ignoring your previous words. You’re so taken aback, you can’t even be mad. You’re not his mother, after all.

His features contort at the taste, but he still swallows it. “Ugh,” he grunts. “The, uh, District Attorney’s office filed charges against him. And not just for bootlegging.”

You take your glass back, straightening up with a sudden spike of curiosity. “Do tell,” you press on.

“Violation of the Eighteenth Amendment under the Volstead Act, voter fraud, solicitation, and—hold onto your seat!—murder. They think he killed his current…let’s say lady friend’s husband–” he looks down at his little notebook, “His name was Hans Schroeder or something. The lady’s name is Margaret. Two kids. Irish.”

“So, he went for the woman whose husband he killed or had killed. Wow.”

Leo’s eyes switch between you and his notes. “Well,” he says, turning back to the subject at hand, “US Attorney Esther Randolf is looking to prosecute Nucky Thompson, and it seems she has very compelling evidence that might put him in prison for the rest of his life.”

The realization settles over you like a dark cloud, and lightning strikes you as the only pillar in an empty field. “That bastard,” you mutter under your breath.

“I know, right?” Leo scoffs. “Can’t even do his job right. Thank God he ain’t our problem.”

He’s about to sit down, but you raise your hand with a warning look. “Don’t push it.”

He stops in his tracks, nodding. “Right, sorry.”

“You’re my informant. Your job is to inform me. And everyone who’s connected to what we do in any way can become our problem, don’t ever forget that.”

“There is something else,” he says.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you ask, and it sounds a bit more sarcastic than you intended.

He doesn’t take your attitude to heart. Leo knows you well enough by now to know that you are not an irrational person.

Connecting the unveiled truth to the letter you received, it all makes a lot more sense now, and you almost want to applaud the man for his audacity to pull all possible strings to get out of whatever hellhole he dug for himself. Almost. Right now though, you’re fuming, and you’re scared, and for the first time since coming here, you are not quite sure what to do or what choice to make.

Enoch Thompson can rot in hell for all you care, but your father’s words won’t leave your head and the looming sense of doom that is threatening to rain down on you like a guillotine continues to consume you.

Who knows; if you were in his shoes, maybe you would have done the same with the people you know who might be able to wash your hands in return for something else. The world of trading liquor for profit has become a dangerous game in America ever since Congress passed the Volstead Act.

There is a reason that legally, you don’t exist anymore. Legally, you’re dead. You burned alive in your childhood home, the one you set on fire. No one believed that you could have been cruel enough to orchestrate such a thing, and you are glad it ended that way. The town mourned you. It was sad. But you found a way to salvage all of what Henry ruined.

You may have killed a man in self-defense—you may have committed murder, stolen from his corpse, and burned your life to the ground to fake your death and start anew somewhere else like a criminal and as a criminal—but at least you didn’t stand idly by and let a man far worse than you ruin everything you had left. You know you’re not innocent, and you’re no angel either, but the ice that surrounds your heart makes it easier not to let it break you.

Mister Austin was born out of spite, but spite is as good a reason to claim the power of an undeserving man.

The things that need to be done are not always something you can be proud of, but your options are zero to none. To make money, you have to bend the rules a little. And sometimes, you have to break them clean through. You learned that the hard way.

You stop tapping the brim of your glass when Leo calls your name. Looking up, you meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask.

He clears his throat. “I said that his brother is in protective custody,” he says. Again, Leo checks his notes. “Eli, that’s his name. And I heard that James Damody has taken Nucky’s place. He used to be his protégée or something. I don’t know.”

“Hm.” You empty what little rum that’s left from the portion you poured yourself.

The sticky liquid is eerily similar to the consistency of fresh blood. You rub it between your middle and index finger, and for just a second, your eyes make it look like it’s scarlet.

In your peripheral vision, you can see Leo moving his hat back onto his head. “Well, that’s all I have. Not everyone hates Nucky Thompson, and not everyone loves gossip as much as old ladies peeking out of windows in Atlantic City.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, reaching for the envelope with the leftover dollar bills from earlier. “That helped a lot.”

“Hey,” he shrugs, “that’s my job.”

“You’re right, but I’m still giving you an additional fifty to buy something nice for your mother.” You count the bills that fit his rate, sliding them over to his side.

The boy takes them with a smug grin on his face. “So you’re giving my mother a raise but not me, the one who’s actually doing the dirty work for you?”

Rolling your eyes, you add another twenty. “Don’t waste it on something useless,” you warn him. “Our last deal may have been a financial miracle, but I can’t go around giving bonuses to everyone every week.”

Leo counts the money you gave him, and he seems rather satisfied with the fruits of his labor. “I’ll take it,” he says.

As he makes his way to the door, your eyes flick between the envelope, Nucky Thompson’s letter, and the telephone. You’re going to get yourself into a lot of trouble, but you have reached a dead end. He forced you into a corner that you could only get out if you faced him. All the scenarios in your head end with a disaster. The only point of escape is the one Nucky forced you through.

You should think this through, but every second you spend thinking is another second closer to losing it all.

“Wait,” you stop Leo in his tracks. “How much would it take for you to look after the farm for…let’s say a week?”

He raises his eyebrows. “A week?”

“Yeah. Feed the cattle, take the horses out, make sure the chickens don’t starve, that sort of thing.”

“Twenty bucks an hour,” he says.

“Fifteen,” you counter, “and you get to take all the eggs.”

“Nineteen.”

“I’m not negotiating with a child.”

“Eighteen and the eggs.”

“Fine. Seventeen. Last offer.”

Leo’s lips curl up. “I guess your animals won’t have to starve after all.”

“I’ll tell Beth to make sure you get your money on time,” you state. “And I’ll let you know if my plans change.”

You pick up the receiver of your telephone, pressing the button to connect you with the operator.

“Where are you going, anyway?” he inquires.

The line rings into your ear with every breath you take. You know it’s a decision you shouldn’t make. You shouldn’t run toward danger without knowing what you’re getting yourself into, but there is nothing you wouldn’t do to assure the safety of the life you’ve built for yourself.

“Atlantic City,” you finally answer, and it dawns on Leo at the same time the weight becomes a reality on your shoulders.

The operator asks to know who you are calling for, and you repeat the number that is more than familiar to you back to her. Again, the line rings as it starts to connect.

“You’re going to Atlantic City to meet with Nucky Thompson, aren’t you?” Leo asks again.

He’s too curious of a child for his own good. Sometimes, you want to curse him for it.

The lump in your throat feels significantly bigger than it did five minutes ago. You nod, but that’s all you can do.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

With a bitter chuckle, you shake your head. “I wish I did, but no,” you say. “I have no fucking clue.”

Leo flips his hat back onto his head. “Well, at least try to stay safe out there,” he tells you.

“I will. Thank you.” But you know that it’s a lie.

The line finally stops ringing and clicks when the door has fallen shut behind him.

You tear your eyes away from the empty spot before you and focus on the piece of paper on your desk. Enoch Thompson’s name sticks out to you like a million candles on a pitch-black midnight.

“Andrew,” you greet him. Your fingers fiddle with the envelope. “It’s me. Listen, I have to tell you something, and I hereby ask you not to murder me.”

You’re going to Atlantic City to meet with Nucky Thompson, that much you have decided, and there is nothing in this world anyone could do that would stop you from doing what you believe is right.

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! Starting after this chapter!

#owen sleater x reader #owen sleater x you #owen sleater x f!reader #owen sleater #boardwalk empire #owen sleater imagine #boardwalk empire x reader #charlie cox #female reader #owen sleater angst #owen sleater fluff #owen sleater smut #reader insert #x reader series #lizzi writes: austin

16 notes · View notes

foxymoxynoona · 3 months

Note

honestly i would totally read a drabble with only ezra and lily in it. no jungkook no isabella. just the two babies doing baby things

Story: Amended, July in the new house timeframe Characters: Ezra & Lily, Isabella ft. Length: 3599 CW: none, General Audience appropriate Read more Amended shorts here (or check out my masterlist, making an Amended-specific masterpost soon)

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“Aww biscuits!”

Ezra froze on the stairs and listened to Lily’s muttered curse. When he’d walked through the kitchen only a moment ago, she was getting a banana for herself. She had declined his help opening it which was dumb because she was going to mush it up trying to get it open and then refuse to eat it. Mom said she was going through a phase. Ezra didn’t think he’d gone through a dumb phase like that and didn’t like that Mom had laughed when he said that but then she’d said all his phases were cute so… he guessed that was ok. Everyone was a little kid once upon a time, even him.

He heard the clink of a metal spoon against a ceramic bowl and decided he’d better check it out. Lily wasn’t supposed to be using a ceramic bowl. No one was. They were Gigi’s and Mom kept them high in the cabinets and one time JK had used one for cereal and Mom hadn’t been happy. He was confused which meant Ezra wasn’t the only one who thought it didn’t make sense to have bowls you weren’t actually allowed to eat out of. Mom said no one was allowed to use them anymore and put them up high but that was definitely what the clink sounded like unless Lily was doing something else weird.

He tossed his books to the top of the stairs and trudged back down, shaking his head about little sisters. He had offered to open the banana for her and then he wanted to just go read in his room because Parker had loaned him a couple Dr. Slump manga and JK had seen it and suggested Mom should see them to make sure they were ok for Ezra to read which obviously meant he needed to read it immediately before Mom said no. That was yesterday and JK hadn’t said anything to Mom yet so maybe he’d forget. If they were bad Ezra wouldn’t read them but he was just curious what JK thought might not be ok for him to read.

He stepped into the kitchen and forgot all about Dr. Slump.

Lily stood in a growing pool of milk. The whole gallon lay sideways on the counter, glug-glugging onto the floor while she stood there and just watched it with big eyes. One of the forbidden cereal bowls was indeed next to the sink, the cabinet she had climbed and pulled it from still open. The silverware drawer was open. Two boxes of cereal were knocked off the top of the fridge and one lay sideways in the pool of milk.

“I walked away one minute ago!” Ezra cried.

“Well I got hungry.”

“You said you wanted a banana.”

“It got mushy,” she said, glancing at three smushed bananas dangling out of the trashcan.

“Mom said to get her if you wanted cereal,” Ezra reminded. As if cued, they heard the lawnmower start in the backyard. JK was away for the weekend and Mom was mowing the grass and Ezra and Lily were supposed to behave and play quietly and come get me if you need anything but Ezra was old enough to know that really meant don’t need anything unless someone is bleeding. Mom had definitely said some words worse than “aw biscuits” trying to figure out how to work the riding lawnmower.

“I asked her but she couldn’t hear me.”

“Did you ask her while she’s mowing the lawn?”

“Yeah I was asking her.”

“Did you get close to ask her?”

“No are you crazy? She’s mowing the lawn! She’d chop me to smithereens!”

“Did you even wave your hand like this?” Ezra asked, demonstrating how his sister might have gotten Mom’s attention from the safety of the deck.

Lily shrugged and looked at the mess before asking, “Can you get me a bowl of cereal?”

“You might as well just dump the cereal on the floor and eat it like– no! Are you crazy? Don’t really do that!” he groaned as she promptly dropped to all fours and leaned forward, slowly, tongue out like she was going to do it. Her eyes were on him like she was waiting for him to laugh, but he knew better. She’d do it. Lily could be crazy to get a laugh. That’s why she kept saying aw biscuits because she’d said it and JK had laughed and now it was her favorite thing to say, even though Ezra explained she didn’t invent that, she got it from Bluey.

Sure enough, she licked the floor-milk. But when he didn’t laugh, she decided not to bother.

“OK I’ll get the vacuum while you get the cereal,” Lily said.

“No I’ll get the vacuum, you’re scared of it.”

“Ok I’ll eat my cereal,” Lily said, turning to lift the box out of the milk like she’d planned this anyway. Ezra glared at the back of her head but didn't’ say anything because he was older and knew more things anyway. “The box is wet. I don’t want to eat this kind. Can you get that one?”

“I can’t reach that. How did you get these?”

“I threw Gidget’s toy until it knocked down,” Lily explained, grabbing it to do so again. It had also been in the milk and sent droplets flying everywhere, then lodged on top of the fridge. “Aw biscuits.”

“Get a kid bowl,” Ezra told her. He grimaced as he waded through the milk that instantly soaked his socks. “Ewwwww it’s so gross.”

“I kind of like it,” Lily admitted. Her socks and leggings were wet as she swished side to side. “Look I’m an ice skater!”

“You’re getting it everywhere!”

“Catch me!” She leapt in his direction but slipped exactly like he’d expected and landed on her knee. He watched her lip tremble and her eyes water.

“You’re ok. You’re ok, you didn’t break anything,” he quickly assured her, crouching down. “Do you want me to get Mom? Did you break something? I don’t think you did.”

“Carry me.”

“You’re five, you’re too big for me to carry.”

“Daddy can carry me.”

“Yeah he’s a big grown up. I’m only nine and I’ll just slip in the milk and we’ll both get hurt. Stop ice skating and just get a bowl, ok?”

She sang a song as she got the bowl and Ezra wondered how to get the breakable one back into the cabinet. He wasn’t as good at climbing as she was and didn’t want to risk toppling off. Besides, he needed to get the milk cleaned up first. Part of him thought maybe he should go get Mom because this was a really big mess, but the other part of him really wanted to prove that she could trust him to keep an eye on Lily while she was mowing the lawn. It didn’t matter if JK wasn’t here, Ezra could take care of things too.

First thing was to get Lily out of here before she made it even worse. He sloshed through the milk to pick up the gallon only to realize it was broken, so she must have dropped it, not just dumped it over.

“How did you even get this out of the fridge? It was almost full.”

“I’m really strong,” she told him.

“If you’re so strong why did you drop it?”

“I was pouring it and the milk went out way too fast! It wasn’t slow at all! It was too heavy. It was even more heavy than I am strong.”

Ezra let out a sigh. Kids. Obviously if something was heavy to pick up it was going to be heavy to pour!

There was just enough milk left in the broken jug to pour into her bowl. He poured the cereal on top because recently JK had seen him make cereal and told him you were supposed to put the cereal in first so Ezra was going to keep doing the opposite because JK couldn’t tell him what to do. Then he gave Lily the spoon and made her take her socks and pants off and sit at the table to eat. He threw her clothes and his socks into the washing machine that was already full of clothes anyway, then dragged the vacuum from the closet.

At this point he paused. Was a vacuum the right way to do it? Mom usually mopped up spills with towels, but it would take a lot of towels. Like a crazy number of towels, maybe every towel they owned.

“How many towels do you think we have?” he asked Lily.

“Oh I don’t know. Six? Or maybe nineteen.”

He decided to pull all the kitchen towels out of the drawer and drape them across the pool first to soak up as much as he could. They got really wet really fast and then were really gross but he hauled them over to the washing machine, back and forth. Probably he was never going to drink milk again after this.

It still looked like too much liquid for the vacuum, so he unfurled the roll of paper towels next. At this point Lily came over and chucked her bowl in the sink.

“Now you have to help me clean this up,” he told her.

“Why? I didn’t do it.”

“I’m going to murder you–”

Lily gasped and shouted, “I’m telling Mom you said that!”

“Ok sorry sorry I didn’t mean it. I’m trying not to say it.”

“Mom said you have to pay one dollar of your allowance.”

“I’m not actually going to murder you, it’s just a saying because– because you did make this mess so you have to clean it up.”

“But you can’t murder me about it!”

“I’m not going to murder you. Fine. Sorry. I’ll give you a quarter if you don’t tell Mom,” Ezra bargained because Mom had sat him down and had a talk with him about saying I’m going to murder you or I’m going to kill you. She didn’t get it’s just a thing his friends said at school and sometimes Dad said it too and probably Mom had said it before too, it didn’t mean you were actually going to kill someone! But she told him all this stuff about how sometimes people do bad things in the world and it’s not funny to be casual and make jokes or be light about it and JK is a cop and all that and also he had sad things happen in Korea and Ezra wasn’t allowed to say that ever again. He didn’t really understand how it was all connected but fine, if Mom said it was such a big deal he would try not to say it – but it was really hard to stop saying something when your tongue just made the words come out! “Ok,” Lily beamed, happy about the quarter. She just liked them because they were the biggest coin, she didn’t even understand money. “But don’t forget or I’ll tell Mom you said it twice.”

“That would be lying.”

“No it isn’t… I’m not a liar.”

“Just help me clean up the milk,” Ezra sighed. “Take that towel and wipe up where you left all those footprints.”

��Woah this is a lot of towels.”

“Wait. Do you hear the lawn mower?”

Lily shared a look with him. They ran to the sliding door, tracking milky footprints around the table, and looked with terror around the backyard. It wasn’t that Ezra thought Mom would kill them for spilling the milk or anything, but he just thought it was better if she didn’t know.

“She’s there!” Lily cheered, pointing to Mom in a far corner of the yard. She was off the lawnmover, dragging some branches out of the way. She didn’t look happy. Gidget was penned up but barking like crazy.

“If Gidget keeps barking she might bring her inside, we have to hurry,” Ezra decided, feeling the rush of urgency course through him.

“AGHHHHH” Lily shrieked in a panic and did a somersault, then ran towards the kitchen to mop furiously at the floor, flinging milk, tearing the paper towels, doing more harm than good.

“Just hold the trash open,” Ezra huffed. It was a good thing she was cute because she wasn’t much help for anything ever. Together they tossed the sopping towels into the trash can, then Lily ran shrieking to crouch in the stairwell as Ezra ran the vacuum cleaner around the kitchen –the little one that Mom was strong enough to carry up and down the stairs, but he thought it was really hard to drag around still and he wasn’t sure it did much good. It seemed to just blow the milk around.

He shoved it back in the closet and saw Lily climbing on the counter again, putting the bowl back into the cabinet.

“You aren’t supposed to use those,” he reminded her.

“Why not?”

“Mom said so. I don’t know. Moms are weird about things sometimes.”

“So are Dads,” Lily nodded sagely.

“Do you mean JK? He’s not your dad.” He felt bad about saying it as soon as the words were out because sometimes Lily got upset if you pointed out she didn’t have a dad, or she was just confused and thought his dad was her dad. He hadn’t meant it to be mean, but JK was their stepdad, it wasn’t the same thing as having a dad.

“I didn’t say he was,” Lily rolled her eyes and clambered down from the counter. “But he’s still a dad.”

“He’s not anyone’s dad.”

“He’s Gidget’s dad! And Crabby’s!”

“I guess you can say that if you want to…”

“Can I go play now? This is boring.”

“I know it’s boring but I want to be reading my book and you made the mess! Next time just ask for help,” he scolded.

“But I don’t need help, I can do it by myself.”

“Then why did you spill all the milk?”

“It wasn’t my fault, it was the milk’s fault!”

“For being too heavy?”

“I think we’re done here,” Lily announced and turned to pad off to the living room.

“Hey put some pants on, your underwear is hanging out!” he reminded her.

“I like it that way. Oh yeah, oh yeah, doot doot doot,” she sang, doing a little butt-shaking dance.

Ezra laughed at her silly style because she was really bad at dancing but it was cute. He saw a little more milk on the counter but he was out of all towels, so he took his shirt off and wiped it down, then tossed that into the washing machine and closed it. He put the busted gallon of milk in the recycling and wrote on the shopping list Mom kept on the fridge: Milk. He couldn’t reach to get the cereal boxes back up without dragging over a chair and just as he was going to do it he heard Mom’s footsteps on the stairs up to the deck and had the primitive instinct to flee.

Apparently Lily did too because she ran screaming through the kitchen and up the stairs, “I NEED PANTS!”

Gidget sprinted in as soon as Mom opened the door and Ezra remembered too late that the last bananas were still on the counter where they weren’t supposed to leave them because Gidget could reach, but he was already halfway up the stairs and couldn’t do anything about it.

“Everything ok in here?” Mom called through the house.

He grabbed his books at the top of the stairs and shouted back, “Yes!” before diving into his bedroom.

“Boo!” Lily shouted, throwing his covers off of herself where she’d been hiding in his bed, waiting for him.

Ezra pretended to be scared, then threw a pillow at her and reminded, “Go get some pants on!”

“I don’t have any pants! I’ll wear some of yours and you can wear some of mine.”

“I don’t want to wear your pants,” he pointed out.

“It’s a new rule I just made up.”

“What’s the rule?” he asked, flopping down beside her after he had a new shirt on. His feet and arms still felt gross and sticky.

“You give me a quarter and–”

“KIDS! WHY AM I STICKING TO THE FLOOR?” Mom shouted.

“I think Mom wants to talk to you,” he told Lily, whose eyes went big.

“What if she feeds me to the birds?” Lily asked in a whisper.

“I don’t think birds eat little girls.”

“But what if she puts peanut butter and sunflower seeds on me. They like that a lot.”

“I don’t think Mom will waste that much peanut butter.”

“KIDS?”

Ezra didn’t much want to face Mom’s wrath, but he felt bad for Lily looking so nervous about it, so he held out his hand and sighed, “Come on, I’ll go with you. Next time just let me peel your banana, ok? I can just get it started for you.”

“And take off the black part I don’t like?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok I want a banana now.” It was like she’d already forgotten Mom was calling for them downstairs. Which was exactly what she said to Mom too when they stepped into the kitchen a moment later to find Mom pulling cleaning supplies and more rags out of the laundry closet. Ezra didn’t know those were in there.

“Definitely more than nineteen,” he told Lily.

“Can I have a banana, Mom?”

“Looks like there was an incident,” Isabella sighed.

“Someone murdered the milk,” Lily agreed. “It was me. I mean, it wasn’t me!”

“How’s mowing the lawn going?” Ezra asked. He just meant it as a change of subject, but Mom’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine… why?”

“It’s taking a long time.”

“Yeah well…” She looked sweaty and tired and serious, but her stern look cracked into a smile. “It’s not going great. Don’t tell JK.”

“I think he’s going to notice,” Ezra pointed out. “I thought he said not to do it because he would do it when he got home.” Not that he wanted to promote JK too much, but he did think it was better for JK to do that kind of work and Mom could just play with them or read or something.

“And I thought I told you two to get me if you needed any snack you couldn’t reach with both feet on the floor, huh?”

“We can say someone murdered the lawn mower!” Lily suggested.

“Ok enough with murder. We don’t use that word, remember? It’s time to do your time. We’re scrubbing these floors, Lily.”

Ezra looked at the kitchen, at Gidget eagerly licking the sticky floor, at his sweaty, tired Mom.

“I can help Lily scrub and you can put the lawn mower away and nobody gets fined a dollar and we can pretend like this never happened,” he suggested. “Except we should probably buy more milk.”

“Yeah, probably so,” Mom snorted. “Deal. Thanks for being such good kids trying to clean up, but next time just get me, ok? Here’s the spray, don’t get it in your face, I’ll be back in five minutes. Don’t let Gidget get into the trash!” She was gone in a heartbeat and Ezra let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sold on JK lately, but he had to admit that Mom seemed a lot less stressed these days. She didn’t get so mad when they messed up!

“It’s really gross and sticky,” Lily complained. “Ewwww it smells bad.”

Ezra looked at the bottle and made a face as he read, “It’s grapefruit.”

“But I like grapes.”

“Not grapefruit, it’s different. It’s really gross. I bet JK likes grapefruit.”

“He likes grapes like me.”

“Lots of people like grapes,” Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Arrrr I’m a pirate!” Lily sang, sliding the rag back and forth on the ground where Ezra had sprayed. “I’m Pirate Princess Barbie!” She let out a sigh and sat up. “This is boring.”

“Yeah it’s boring because I’m faster than you. When you go that slow it’s boring.”

“I’m faster than you. I’m faster than anyone who ever lived,” Lily argued.

“Not faster than me. Prove it.”

Lily let out a war cry and set to scrubbing at a crazy pace. Ezra tried to keep a straight face but after half a minute couldn’t help it and mimicked her insane energy, yelling and scrubbing and making up a pirate song as best he could. He didn’t really like to sing but Lily never judged him so it was ok around her.

There, was that good enough? He and Lily sat next to each other and leaned against the cabinets, trying to judge by looking if they’d done enough.

“You’re supposed to say thank you for helping you,” he told Lily.

“But you didn’t get me a banana.”

“But I helped clean up the mess you made! Twice!”

“I already said thank you.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did!”

“Well I didn’t hear you,” he said, certain she had not said thank you.

She sighed and let her head fall to his shoulder and murmured in a monotone voice, “Thank you, Ezra.”

Actually thanked, he was embarrassed to have demanded it. It was fine, he didn’t mind helping his sister. She was the only sister he had. Even if she was a little butt sometimes.

“Now can I have a banana?” she asked him.

Just as Gidget took a flying leap, grabbed the last two bananas off the counter and raced off.

“CATCH THAT DOG!”

#drabble #amended #my writing

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