she's walking barefooted

did someone say deaf autumn headcanons

• autumn didn’t perfect lip reading until she was about 14. she would get help from the local bodega owner down the street, he had a deaf daughter and saw a lot of her in autumn.

• she decided she didn’t want a hearing aid because she didn’t need one. she was fine with the constant hum in her ears, although she always yearned to know what gunshots really sounded like.

• the reason why she walks barefoot around the safehouse is to feel the vibrations of everything around her. she got over the teasing almost as soon as she joined the crew, mostly because she would stare at steven until he got uncomfortable and left.

• despite all their jokes, the crew actually kills anyone who tries to undermine autumn in any way. not that she can’t do it herself. but it’s always satisfying when some asshole makes a deaf joke and james shoots them in the ear. she feels the vibration, sees the pain, and feels pride.

• cib likes to practice guitar when no one else is around. he began doing it around autumn because she couldn’t actually hear the sound of wrong notes. he quickly realized she would know when he had fucked up, because she’d shoot him a raised eyebrow.

• it was steve’s idea to start learning asl, autumn had never asked him to. still, it was sweet when he’ d tried to communicate with her in really slow sign language. now, telling her to watch her fucking mouth with quick hand movements is almost second nature.

Femme Fatale
  • When she runs, Luna grabs her boobs to stop them from moving. She’s not well endowed, but she has just enough going on that the turbulence hurts
  • Crowe doesn’t wear heels often, so the first time she did she assumed she could break off the heel and make them flats. She spent hours walking around barefoot in a cocktail dress
  • Iris has a wallet that looks like a pad in case somebody tries to rob her. It works; the robber always screams and drops it
  • Aranea doesn’t shave because her hair is pale enough that people don’t notice. She likes to run her hands over her leg hair when she’s deep in thought
  • At the end of the day, Cindy likes to rub the red spots where her shorts dig into her skin
  • When men annoy her, Iris has enough control to silently fart. It confuses them because they can’t fathom something so foul coming from somebody so cute, and they leave her alone looking for the source
  • Crowe falls asleep on the subway so often that the people who take the train with her every day know to wake her up at her stop
  • When Luna’s cleaning and she’s alone, she uses her feet to pick stuff up
Tradition (Viserys Targaryen x Sister!Reader) AU

“Viserys, you don’t have to-” Daenerys was cut off by a scoff.

“The ‘crown’ your mutt of a husband bestowed upon me last night did not work so I will leave.”



“Viserys, please-”

“NO MORE!” He pulled a bag and began to put things in it; a short dagger, a coin purse and some other things as he stormed around the room picking up objects, his face twisting in disgust at some of the Dothraki wares.

“Viserys, I’m sorry but you threatened your nephew-”

His chuckle cut her off this time. It was dark; full of malice and unlike the drunken laugh of bitterness he had as he stumbled his way into the tent where the gold was poured over his head. “Dany, you clearly do not understand, do you? I AM A KING! THIS IS TREASON! You and your dog’s spawn is no nephew of mine as you are no sister of mine. I am leaving and when I get the throne you will have no claim. If I have to slay you and your army of filth to ensure you have no claim, so be it.”

“But what about Y/N? What will happen to our- my sister?”

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A Morning of Introductions

AN: A bit of an AU, post-Uni, with Wartsan and Sherlolly fluff…lots of it. :)

Molly woke with a happy groan as the sun streamed into the bedroom at 221b Baker Street. Stretching her arms, she turned her head to see Sherlock still deep asleep. His curls were wild and tangled from their activities the previous night (and early into the morning) and his expression was open and innocent.

Memorizing the sight of him, Molly felt her heart fill to burst. They’d been friends since their first year at Uni and, after five years of pining, he finally got his head out of his bum and made a move. She giggled at the memory of him just the night before fumbling over his words before she finally shut him up with a kiss.

A kiss which turned into so much more. 

Unable to keep the smile from her face, she brushed her lips against his cheek before slipping from the bed and putting on her knickers and his shirt. She walked barefoot into the kitchen while buttoning up the purple shirt, smiling to herself all the while. She set about putting the coffee kettle on, humming happily. 


At the breathy exclamation, Molly spun around in surprise. A woman was standing in the doorway from the stairway, in an equal state of undress, a man’s blue plaid button up her only covering. Her short blonde hair was disheveled and she still had a red mark on her cheek, most likely from where it had been pressed against a pillow. Or a person.

They stared at each other in shock.

‘Morning,’ Molly broke the silence with an awkward wave. ‘I’m Molly.’

'Mary,’ the blonde replied quietly. ‘I’m a, um, friend of John’s.’ She jabbed a thumb toward the stairs, which Molly now realised must lead to Sherlock’s flatmate’s rooms. A knowing smile lit up Mary’s face and she flicked her gaze toward Sherlock’s bedroom door. 'Had a good night?’

Molly flushed bright red and hurriedly turned back to the stove when the kettle whistled, tugging the hem of her shirt to better cover her bare legs. ‘Would you some coffee?’

‘Yes, please,’ Mary answered gratefully and perched on a stool at the tall table, utterly unashamed of her casual state of dress. ‘So, you’re the girl who snagged the Virgin.’

‘V-virgin?!’ Molly sputtered and looked at the blonde over her shoulder in surprise. 

Mary raised her eyebrows and her grin widened gleefully. ‘Just a nickname. John says he’s married to his work and all that rot and assumed he didn’t go in for that sort of thing. Seems he was just waiting for the right girl.’

If possible, Molly blushed darker and picked up the cups. ‘Waiting, my foot. Bloody idiot waited five years.’

‘Oh, I like you,’ Mary beamed at her as Molly handed her a cup. 


Sherlock grimaced as the sun hit his face. His senses slowly began to wake up and he couldn’t stop the smile that creased his face as he remembered the day (and night) before. With a contented sigh, he rolled over and reached out to pull Molly into his arms so they could have a bit of a lie-in. Only to find his bed empty. 

He sat up and looked around, trying to locate the elusive pathologist. Her clothes were still on his floor. But his favourite aubergine shirt was missing.

He smirked. Thief.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit him and he perked up. Seeking a cup of said coffee, and a kiss or two from the barista who made it, he garbed himself in his bedsheet and shuffled out into the kitchen.

‘For future reference, I prefer to wake up beside you…’ His tease trailed off when he found his pathologist sitting at the kitchen table across from a blonde woman (nurse, several years older than himself, dressed in John’s favourite plaid button-down, recently shagged… ahh, the woman John has been mooning over for the past month. Marie, Mildred…Margie? Wait. Mary. Yes, that must be it). They each cradled a cup of coffee and had stopped their chatting when he entered, turning to face him. 

Molly bit her lip and blushed, hiding her smile behind her cup, but her eyes were saying things that made his heart skip a beat. Meanwhile, John’s girl gave him a once-over and smiled knowingly. He cleared his throat and adjusted his sheet to make sure, er, all of him was covered. 

Before he could say anything else, John entered the kitchen from the stairwell. His hair was on end and he was tying the belt of his dressing gown, his eyes focused downward. ‘Good morning, beautiful…’ His rough, husky voice trailed off when he finally looked up, and noticed that it wasn’t only Mary in the kitchen.

‘Um, morning,’ he greeted, blushing. He then looked between Sherlock and Molly. ‘Did I miss something?’

‘Always,’ Sherlock grumbled under his breath. Molly sent him a brief glare.

Mary grinned cheekily. ‘Just getting to know your flatmate’s girlfriend, that’s all.’ 

John gaped and pointed a finger between Sherlock and Molly, his mouth opening and closing but no words came out.

‘Oh, do wipe that blubbering fish look off your face, John,’ Sherlock snapped and stalked haughtily around the table to Molly and proceeded to greet her with a proper kiss. She had an appropriately dazed and happy grin on her face when he pulled away. ‘If you’d stayed in bed, we could have avoided this whole situation.’

Molly giggled. ‘And miss breakfast? I don’t think so.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Mary interjected, a twinkle in her eye. ‘Why don’t you fellas cook us some breakfast while we finish our coffee in the lounge, hmm?’ With that, she picked up her cup, gave John a quick kiss, and sashayed into the lounge and settled on the sofa.

Following her new friend’s lead, Molly stood, tugging the shirt over her thighs and gave her boyfriend a kiss. ‘I like my eggs scrambled, love.’

Sherlock gaped after her as she walked away and sat beside Mary. Immediately the two women put their heads together and resumed whatever giggling conversation they’d been having before he’d entered the kitchen.

John came to stand by his side, both of them wondering just what had happened.

‘They’re going to be trouble, aren’t they?’ John quipped with a wry smile. 

Sherlock looked at his friend and gave him a knowing grin. ‘Would we really want them any other way?’

John huffed a laugh. ‘Absolutely not.’ Slapping the taller man on the back, he turned toward the stove. ‘Come on, I’ll fry the bacon if you scramble the eggs.’

Three’s a Crowd (Part 2)

Originally posted by namjoonie00

Member: Taehyung x Reader x OC

Type: Poly au, Smut, Angst, Fluff,

Part 1.  Part 2.

I hummed along softly to the morning radio, standing at the stove as I made breakfast for the 3 of us. Sleeping in the couples bed was not something I’d usually do everyday, not even after sex. I’d crawl out of the bed when we’ve settled down, collecting my stuff and go back into my room, not wanting to bother them while they spooned. That was what I had to do every time. It was annoying but I learnt to live with it.

“Mmm, I smell pancakes and bacon!” Mika spoke as she walked into the kitchen barefoot wearing Taehyung’s shirts, a grin plastered on her lips as she sniffed the air. I nodded and filled her plate before setting it down on the table, nodding for her to sit at the table. Mika quickly sat down and poured the maple syrup over the food before digging in. I smiled and poured a cup of coffee for her, placing it on the table beside her breakfast and was about to grab my food until Mika reached for my wrist, dragging me towards her. I gasped as she pulled me on her lap, my legs resting either side of her hips as I placed my hands on her shoulders, raising my eyebrow at her move. “As much as I love your cooking, why’d you leave the bed? It was cold without you”

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shadowjack12345  asked:

“you come to my room at 4am, to cuddle?” But Raven is the visitor.

Anything for senpai~

Originally posted by windwaver

One would think that entering a relationship of a romantic nature with Raven would come with a few alterations. For example, perhaps becoming more privy to an intimate side of the empath that she would rarely, if ever, display to any other individual. Or maybe, some subtle affection, terms of endearment, a discreet touching of hands, fingers entwining under the table. Hopefully, a chaste kiss or two, or, if Garfield could be so lucky, something more…

At the end of the day, all Beast Boy wanted was any opportunity to get to know his girlfriend better, physically, or otherwise. He wanted to spend time with her, as much as possible. He wanted to talk to her, to listen, to go on adventures and share various experiences with her right beside him. All the cliché things that happened in the movies, or the sappy love stories that filled the romance section in the bookstore; he wanted to build those memories with her, regardless of how cheesy or lame they normally seemed.

Suddenly, every romantic notion had an appeal, like a pink, hazy border clouding his vision and his mind, whenever he thought about Raven. He often pondered what they’d be like with her. Something as ludicrous as a trip to the mall, or a date at a bar, maybe a lazy trip to the beach, just the two of them. Long walks in the park in the summer time, where her feet would get sore, so he’d carry her shoes while she walked in the grass barefoot. Perhaps they’d venture out late at night, so that way, it would be just the two of them, and she’d loosen up a bit without the social stresses she faced every day among the crowds.

Unfortunately, it was often that Beast Boy felt like he was riding the train of love all alone, as Raven remained rather indifferent to him even though they were dating.  

Although most of the romantic excursions did occur, it was about the only change Raven implemented once their relationship had taken on a new meaning. She’d never turn him down whenever he’d request they hang out, and he did manage to get her to open up to him bit by bit the more time that passed, however, much to Beast Boy’s great disappointment, Raven took no other initiatives.

At first, it hardly seemed a big deal; he figured she’d come around sooner than later, and he’d rather not force anything that she might not be ready for. After all, she had been the one who had pursued him back when all this had started. So, when they’d gone on their first, second, third date, and he had really, really wanted to hold her hand, he’d clench his jaw instead, and tell himself that if she wanted to make contact, she would do so of her own volition. His hand was always very evidently right there, perfectly ready to be held if she so desired. He’d even purposely brush his arm against hers, or make sure their shoulders touched, as a hint.

Either Raven was entirely dense, a very unlikely reason, or she simply refused to touch him. Of the two, the latter hurt far more, and it was only a matter of time before Beast Boy was burdened with insecurities in what was supposed to be his new, thrilling relationship.

Eventually, he stopped trying altogether, and it embittered him.

He wanted to tell her, knew he should have voiced his concerns, but he remained fearful of overstepping a boundary, as he had often done with her in the past. The last thing he wanted was to take two steps back for every step forward he’d taken in their new, blooming romance.

So, instead, he procrastinated, choosing to wallow in his own miserable thoughts, and self-imposed exile.

Until the one night that an emboldened Raven had decided to show up on his doorstep, unannounced.

[More under the cut, because this got too long]

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okay, a lot of you seemed to like the story of my grandma traumatizing a car dealer, and some of you have asked just how my grandma ended up like the woman she is, so, after a little prompting, i hereby present, my great-grandmother;

  • so you all know that my grandma was born in finland
  • but we’re actually swedish descendants on my great-grandmother’s side of the family
  • so okay, this all requires some basic finnish history to fully grasp the context of my great-grandmother’s story
  • finland didn’t become an independent country until 1917, after having been conquered by russia in the 19th century
  • but before that, finland had been a part of the swedish kingdom, with a very sketchy history leading all the way back to the conception of the swedish kingdom sometimes in the like 13th century
  • and the life and times of swedish finland is a messy and complex story that i won’t get that much into, but what you need to know is that it was swedish finland, that sweden was the central and, in some ways, colonizing power, and that the true finns were looked down upon and often lower class, while the nobility and upper class were made out of finland-swedes
  • and this didn’t change until well into the 20th century, especially in the predominantly swedish-speaking regions
  • and you can probably guess where my ancestors fit into all of this, can’t you?
  • and my great-grandmother’s story starts with my great-great-grandfather
  • he was a finland-swede in a swedish-speaking town, and he was also one of the richest men in it
  • and he had a heap of children, like i’m uncertain of just how many, but i think it was around, like 17 or something??
  • anyway
  • my great-grandmother, of course, because otherwise this wouldn’t be much of a story, was the black sheep of the entire family
  • she was just
  • a very rebellious lady in general
  • born sometimes in the 1910′s, she just didn’t give much of a fuck about anything
  • she was the finnish version of a flapper, drank and partied away all of her allowance and just generally drove my great-great-grandfather crazy by the way she dragged their precious family name in the dirt by the reputation she made for herself around town
  • (she’s honestly such #goals, i’ve always looked up to my great-grandmother)
  • but the last straw was when she met my biological great-grandfather
  • because he was a true finn, did not have a drop of swedish blood as far as anyone could tell, and of course my great-grandmother, because she was my great-grandmother, fell head over heels in love
  • now, in true bigoted fashion, this was of course unacceptable to my great-great-grandfather and his entire family, and he presented my great-grandmother with an ultimatum;
  • to either cut all ties with my great-grandfather and start cleaning up her act, or be disinherited from the family
  • now, of course, because you already know that my great-grandfather would eventually become my great-grandfather, you know what my great-grandmother did
  • she followed her heart, said “fuck you” to my great-great-grandfather and his fortune and, quite honestly, never looked back
  • she settled down with my great-grandfather and started a family with him, and was, as far as we can tell, pretty happy with her life
  • that was, until things started going to hell
  • my great-grandmother bore a lot of kids, and gave birth to 11 in total
  • but they were all born in the 1930-40′s, also known as the depression and the second world war
  • most notable of them was, of course, my grandma, one of her older brothers, and a couple of twins
  • you all know my grandma, my very own gunpowder lady, born in the aftermath of the winter war and wrought with an iron strength because of it
  • one of her brothers was born a few years earlier, and was always quite sickly, and was an adolescent during the height of the war
  • and because of that he became a so-called “war child”
  • he was sent over to sweden, in a small dinghy boat across the bothnian sea, to be looked after by a swedish foster family while my great-grandmother and her family continued to scrape by in the war-torn finland
  • and as the war finally ended and he had the chance of coming back home again, he didn’t want to
  • he had grown fond of his foster parents and had had a better living situation in sweden than he had ever had in finland
  • so he was actually the third child that my great-grandmother lost
  • because a couple of years after my grandma was born, my great-grandmother gave birth to a couple of twins
  • this was at the very tail ends of the world war, their sickly older brother had already been sent away, and the family wasn’t doing that great
  • my grandma said that my great-grandmother and great-grandfather never quite succeed in getting them fully healthy after their delivery, and they both died just a few months old
  • and during these years, there had been a lot of strain on my biological great-grandfather and great-grandmother’s marriage and they had eventually fallen out of love, and as finland slowly started prospering again after the war, my great-grandmother decided that enough was enough
  • and if my great-great-grandfather hadn’t disowned my great-grandmother when she had decided to marry a finn, he definitely would have done it when she decided to divorce him
  • this was in the late 1940′s, and while divorce was slowly starting to become more and more socially accepted, it was still something to look down upon, and it was especially not looked at with keen eyes in the upper class, from which my great-grandmother originated
  • but my great-grandmother, because she was my great-grandmother, said “fuck it” and just went for it
  • so that’s how she ended up a divorced mother of 8 with no income
  • (my biological great-grandfather didn’t really want anything to do with the children anymore, but he wasn’t completely unreasonable and had at least left her the house)
  • but great-grandmother did what she had always done; she persevered
  • she got a job at the local bakery and had her elder children starting to pick up stray jobs around town and had her younger ones, my grandma included, looking after the house and each other
  • and they, as far as grandma remembers, were quite happy, despite everything
  • my great-grandmother had of course fallen a very long way from grace, being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in town to just barely scraping by trying to feed and raise all of her children on a measly bakery salary
  • (and they were quite poor; remember how i said that my grandma always walks around barefoot? well, that’s because she never got used to wearing socks as a child, she always walked around barefoot in her shoes, even in the height of the finnish winters, and she just feels like her feet are too constricted trying to wear socks now)
  • but my great-grandmother and her children got by, she worked at the bakery and my grandma and all of her siblings attended the school just downhill, and what they lacked in money they got back in tenfolds in great-grandmother’s dedication to them
  • and eventually my great-grandmother met who we all refer to as my real great-grandfather, the man who married my black sheep and social outcast great-grandmother and helped raise all her children and acted as the real grandfather to her grandchildren, and great-grandfather to her great-grandchildren
  • (he was also a true finn, because my great-grandmother was incapable of actually giving a fuck, and my grandma actually never met her grandfather or his family, because when my great-great-grandfather decided to disinherit my great-grandmother, he meant all the nine yards)
  • my great-grandmother eventually retired from the bakery and became a housewife again, and dedicated her time to help taking care of her rapidly growing family
  • and i was still quite small when she passed away, but one of my most vivid memories of her was her sitting back in a rocking chair in the corner of her living room, with permed grey hair and soft wrinkles, which was mostly laughter lines anyway

so this is the woman who raised the girl who would eventually become the widow who would traumatize a poor car dealer when she wanted to buy a pretty hella expensive new car simply because she didn’t like the color of her old one

(i come from a family of peculiar women)

Daughters of Mischief 1/?

TITLE:  Daughters of Mischief

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT:  Chapter 1/?

AUTHOR:  whisperriddle 

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:  Imagine being the adoptive mother to two powerful  (and mischievous) teenaged witches. One day you answer the door to meet a man (Loki) claiming to be the girls’ father, come to take them home with him.



Lilly put her head in her hands and leaned against the table as she read the latest reports the school had sent home. Jenny and Mary had gotten their third referral from the principal this week and Lilly didn’t think she could take it any longer.

She knew her daughters were prone to mischief, especially when they had turned eight and their magic emerged. It had been a long seven years of learning and understanding their magic, but Lilly had managed to teach the girls to use it for good, and not to hurt anyone or each other with it.

But lately, the fifteen year old girls have been using their magic for mischief, all kinds, including using it to prank the children in their grade and it often ended with Lilly in the principals office.

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Bribery (RWBY AU Snippet)

Her Royal Highness Princess Weiss of Atlas was not having a good day. To be more accurate, the kingdom of Atlas was not having a good year. Drought had left their crops in a precarious state. War had left their armies teetering on the brink of defeat. Floods and other natural disasters had pushed their resources to the very limit.

Atlas needed relief, and there was only one god they could appeal to for help.

True, they could go to the gods of harvest for help with the draught, and the gods of war could help them with the battles still to come, and the various gods of destruction could be appeased to reduce the number of natural disasters. However, there was one god that could accomplish all of those things herself.

And that was how Weiss found herself being pushed into the temple of Death in little more than a silk robe with a large plate of the finest cookies in all of Atlas.

It didn’t make an iota of sense to Weiss. Well, some of it did. The gods were known to take mortal lovers from time to time, and she wasn’t being vain when she said she was one of the most beautiful women in the land. But what on Remnant was she supposed to do with a plate of cookies?

However, the priests and priestesses of Death had insisted on the cookies. She scowled and shivered as she walked barefoot toward the inner sanctum of the temple. They were a curious bunch, those priests and priestesses. They were always walking around in hooded cloaks that made them look supremely suspicious. And then there were the roses. The temple had roses everywhere, and the priests and priestesses could often be found scattering rose petals throughout the city. It was just bizarre.

And then there were the corgis.

Was it mandatory for every member of Death’s clergy to have a corgi? It certainly seemed so, but that didn’t make any sense. How exactly were Death and corgis related? Then there were the cookies. All of the clergy seemed to love cookies, and they were forever throwing money at the kingdom’s bakers to make better ones. 

A low growl left Weiss’s lips. The clergy of every god tended to be a bit eccentric - the less she thought about the clergy of Neopolitan, goddess of assassins, impersonators, and umbrellas, the better. They almost never spoke, and they had a tendency to dye their hair mismatching colours as well as to somehow change the colour of the eyes. They also liked stabbing people. It was bizarre. 

Weiss reached the inner sanctum and stepped inside past the large, gilded doors. The doors swung shut behind her, and she felt the first stirrings of unease. The priests and priestesses had instructed her to wait in this chamber in a silent vigil until Death appeared. 

With a sigh, Weiss settled down into as comfortable a position as possible. It was a bit drafty in the sanctum, and her lack of clothing made it difficult to get truly comfortable. Eventually, she settled into a sitting position and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep because the next thing she was aware of was the sound of someone munching on a cookie.

“What are you doing?” Weiss cried, leaping to her feet and jabbing one finger at the impudent fool who had decided to snack on Death’s cookies. She was trying to save her kingdom here! Was this idiot trying to ruin everything? “Those cookies belong to Death!”

The tall, silver-eyed woman with dark hair who was munching on the cookies turned to look at Weiss and then resumed eating the cookies, stopping now and then to dip them into a glass of milk.

“Hey!” Weiss shouted, raising her voice again. “I’m talking to you! Those cookies are for Death! You can’t eat them. As your princess, I demand you cease this foolishness at once!”

The woman held up one finger for silence, leaving Weiss to splutter in incoherent outrage as she continued to munch on a cookie before swallowing it and slowly turning to face Weiss.

“These are for Death, you say?” the woman asked, grinning. “Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Weiss retorted. “You’d best make an offering at once and beg for her forgiveness, or else she’ll claim your soul.”

“She’s pretty mean, right?” the woman asked, seemingly trying not to laugh. “Always waving that scythe around and stuff.” The woman looked at Weiss. “Were the priests and priestesses going to offer you to her as well? Yes, I can see it now, Death descending upon this shrine to claim you for herself. She’d go for the cookies first, I think, and then she’d get started on you. Who knows what she’d do? Probably ravish you senseless.”

Weiss’s mouth opened and closed. “How dare you! Who do you think you are?”

The woman grinned. “My name is Ruby, but I guess only my friends call me that. Most other people call me something else.”

“Well, what do they call you then?” Weiss hissed.

Ruby’s grin widened. “Why don’t I show you?”

Outside, every dog in the city began to howl. The wind whipped up into a hurricane. The roofs and windows rattled. Clouds covered the moon. A deathly chill fell over the inner sanctum. One by one, the candles lighting the sanctum went out. The shadows lengthened, growing and folding in on themselves until they were a writhing mass of living darkness that crawled across the floor and wrapped around Ruby.

From inside the seething miasma of shadows, Ruby’s eyes blazed like silver stars. The darkness around her exploded outward, and the whole kingdom shook. A vast, endless cloak of bloody red rippled into existence around Ruby as clothes darker than the dead of night coiled around her frame. A scythe, so black it seemed to radiate darkness, appeared in one of her hands, and Ruby gave a low chuckle before smiling at Weiss again.

“Like I said, most of my friends call me Ruby. But you mortals? You’ve got another name for me. You call me Death.”

Weiss fainted.

X     X     X

Ruby stared at the unconscious princess on the floor. Well… that hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Weiss was supposed to marvel at her divine awesomeness before getting her more cookies. Now, she had no more cookies, and Weiss was in no position to get her more. Even worse, the way Weiss had fallen had left her somewhat… exposed due to the lack of clothing underneath her robe.

Honestly, what were her clergy thinking? She’d been pretty clear on what she wanted in the way of offerings. Princesses were not on that list. Although… Ruby frowned. Yang had paid her clergy a visit recently. It would be just like her sister to add something like ‘sexy princesses’ to the list of acceptable offerings. It wasn’t like her clergy would argue. It was Yang. No mortal in their right mind would pick a fight with Yang.

Ruby knelt down beside the princess. It wouldn’t be polite to leave her all sprawled out on the floor like that with her robe out of place. The least she could do was prop her up against a pillar or something before looking for more cookies. Alas, the door of the inner sanctum opened up just as Ruby was adjusting Weiss’s robe into a more decorous position.

The eyes of her High Priest and High Priestess widened.

“Forgive us!” the High Priest threw himself to the ground. “We did not mean to interrupt you, Most Honoured Goddess!”

“Uh…” Ruby frowned. “You’re not really interrupting anything…”

“Silence, fool!” the High Priestess hissed at the High Priest as she dragged the man to his feet. “Can’t you see our Most Honoured Goddess is busy?” She turned to Ruby. “Please, forgive us, Most Honoured Goddess. We shall leave, so you may mercilessly ravish the princess to your heart’s content. By all means, make her your bride or failing that, perhaps a concubine. Only… please aid our kingdom!”

Ruby sighed. She was never, ever going to hear the end of this from Yang. In fact, she was pretty sure she could hear her sister’s laughter already. “Just… just go… and can you maybe get more cookies?”

Ruby covered her face with one hand as they scurried off. The princess gave a low groan but remained unconscious. “What am I going to do with you?”

How Would Blackpink Take Care Of You When You're Sick

I’ll be closing the requests for now, but I’ll leave my ask open if you want to talk to me or something.

Hi anon, I’m sorry this took a decade, but here it is, hope u like it :). x.

Jennie: She would do everything for you and would give you everything you need. She would try to cook for you and would call to check on you always that she had a little time between schedule.

Originally posted by daegil

Jisoo: She would follow you around, making sure that you took all of your meds. She would make you drink a lot of water and tea. She would be convinced that you shouldnt be walking around so she would always be dragging you to bed.

Originally posted by 2nep1nk

Rosé: She would go into caring mode in the second you told her you were sick. She would always drag you to bed and would freak ou whenever she saw you walking barefoot in the cold ground.

“Jagi, please put on some socks, this cold floor may get you even more sick.”

Originally posted by ygblackpinktrash

Lisa: She would probably google your symptoms and would get scared over the crazy things google said you had. But then she would realize you just had a flu. 

Originally posted by wearelivinginthesmtown

@freetimefase: Would you consider writing a fic on the night Jug walked out when they had that fight? I’m curious to see how that would go down.

This fic takes place in the same universe as this fic, but you don’t have to read it for this one to make sense. Beware, it is v angsty, but also fluffy and a little steamy, but I didn’t do full on smut because I wasn’t sure if it was wanted. Enjoy!

Betty swept the dishcloth over the same spot on the work surface despite there being any dirt there for about the fifth time, hovering nervously around the apartment she shared with Jughead as the clock ticked closer towards ten. There was an uncomfortable tightness in her chest that had been building for the past few days. Things had been difficult lately. They were both coming up to their last finals before graduation and Jughead had told Betty to cut back her hours at the flower shop she’d been working in for the past few years, telling her to take the part-time internship she’d been offered instead. 

“Betts, we’ll be fine, I’ll pick up some more shifts at the diner. This is a great opportunity for you,” he’d told her earnestly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I want you to get everything you deserve.” She sighed as he kissed her forehead. She wanted to tell him that money was tight, that they’d both agreed to do their bit to get them through college, that he had finals too and it wouldn’t be fair to jeopardise his education. But she knew he wouldn’t listen, that he’d give up anything to make sure she had it all - his selflessness was one of the many reasons why she loved him so deeply.

But lately there had been a tension between them, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Sure, they had their fair share of disagreements, but this? She couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong so she didn’t know how to fix it. 

It was nearing two hours past the time Jughead was due home and she chewed on her bottom lip in worry, uneasy feeling gnawing away at the pit of her stomach. She jumped at the sound of a key in the door, rising from where she had perched on the edge of their worn sofa and quickly walking over to grab the dishcloth, swiping at that same spot once more. 

“Jug?” she called out eventually when no greeting floated through the apartment. 

“Hi, Betts,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes as he bypassed her and went straight to the sink, grabbing a glass of water and downing it. 

“Everything alright?” she asked, voice timid. She’d never felt like this around him before, like she was walking barefoot over glass. They’d prided themselves, when they first started out, on being the only two they could be sure told the truth to each other while surrounded by the lies and deceit that flooded their hometown of Riverdale. This new dynamic was foreign, leaving a sour taste in her mouth, one she thought she’d experienced years before…

He stood stock still, hands gripping the edge of the worktop, eyes not meeting her own. “Fine.” She knit her brows at his clipped answers. His head was downcast but she caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his clear blue eyes, sucking the youth out of his usually cheerful demeanour. 

“Are you sure? Maybe we should cut back your hours again, and I could pick up some more. This new arrangement is too much for you and it’s not fair…” she began, voice laced with concern. 

“I said I’m fine, Betty.” She blanched at his blunt tone. They didn’t do this, they didn’t treat each other this way. She bristled, eyes hardening as she clenched her fists. She felt the long-forgotten feeling of sharp nails digging into barely visible crescent shaped scars. She wasn’t scared anymore, she was pissed.

“Well clearly you’re not,” she thundered, trying to keep the betraying wobble from her voice. “You come home, late I might add, dragging a storm cloud above your head! You’ll barely look at me, let alone speak to me…”

“I’m tired, Betty. I was working. We need money, remember? So we can live here, so you can do your internship,” he bit out, sounding too much like an accusation to her, turning to look directly at Betty. She started - his eyes were troubled, swimming with something hidden that didn’t quite match the blazing facade he was throwing at her now. 

“I never asked you to do that! We’re supposed to be in this together, Jughead, a team,” she paused, coming round to place her hands at his waist, hoping some contact would melt his cold exterior. “Just you and me, Juggie, remember?” Her hand brushed his jacket pocket, rustling it’s contents. He jerked away from her sharply, watching her with wide eyes as her mouth dropped open in shock, hurt colouring her features. It was gone in a flash, steel replacing it as she lunged forward.

“What are you hiding, Jug?” she asked, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as a million scenarios ran through her head. 

“Betty, just leave it-” His protests were in vain as she yanked the offending paper out of his pocket, turning away in fear of him snatching it back, and straightened out the crumpled document. Her lips quivered as she read, hearing Jughead’s defeated sigh echo from behind her.

“It’s from your dad? He… he’s asking for money,” she whispered, sympathy pouring from her. “Oh, Juggie-”

“Don’t. Don’t pity me, not you, Betts.” His eyes were cold again. 

“Jughead I’m not, I-” she huffed out a breath. “I just want to help, you could have told me, we could have fixed this together,” she pleaded desperately. 

“No! That’s just it, Betty, we can’t. You think you can fix anything but it doesn’t work like that. Contrary to all the songs and all the movies the two of us, together, we don’t have some sort of special power to fix the whole world’s problems,” he muttered sarcastically. Her eyes watered but she blinked back the tears furiously.

“Don’t patronise me, Jughead. I’m not stupid, I don’t want to fix the whole world. I’m not asking for that - I want to help you, because I love you,” her voice faltered as she felt the distance between them, not just across the room from each other, widening. A silence settled over them, pressing on Betty’s chest and threatening to suffocate her. He shook his head, blowing out an almost incredulous laugh.

“I’m not sure that’s enough.” He turned on his heel and was out of the door before the sob broke through her lips. 

She didn’t know how long she stood there, sobs wracking her frame, before she made her way to their bed, curling up on her side, face buried in Jughead’s pillow. She’d known that something wasn’t right but she didn’t think it would come to this. Was this it? The thought made her stomach churn. 

She tossed and turned, tangling herself up in their sheets, body drained and mind exhausted while the blissful freedom of sleep evaded her. Her ears pricked at every sound, every creak and every click that came from their old building, dragging her back from the edge every time she almost made it to slumber. Her eyes stung, head pounding, making the world too bright and unfocused. The passing numbers on the clock burned themselves into her mind each time one changed and still she was alone. 

A little before four the keys sounded in the door. She jumped up, rushing to the doorway of their room before stopping herself. She didn’t know which man would be coming home to her, didn’t even know if she wanted any of them. He trudged in, shoulders hunched, red-rimmed eyes illuminated by the lamps Betty hadn’t even had the energy to turn off earlier. 

“Betts, I-” He took a step forward and her hand shot up, warning him not to come closer. He faltered, inching back slightly. “I’m so sorry.” Her breathing was ragged, head spinning. 

“I… How could you say those things to me, Jughead. After all we’ve been through, together and apart, how could you come in here and not-” Her voice hitched and he closed his eyes at the sound, pain stirring in his chest at causing the distrustful look in her eyes. She looked a mess, hair matted, eyes wild, their brightness not one of their usual joy. 

“I’m so sorry, Betty. I was an idiot, I just… I didn’t want you to see that I was still tied to him, that he still had that power over me,” he lamented, eyes pleading for forgiveness. They were drifting towards each other now, neither of them noticing the magnetic force between them, one that would always pull them back to together. “I thought I could just make some extra money with a couple more hours, send it back to him without you knowing. But then I couldn’t help this guilt that just kept building up. That this was our money, our future that I was putting on the line, for him, again.”

“Is that really what you think of me? That I would…” she scrambled for the right words, “judge you for trying to help your family? How dare you! I know you, Jughead. I’ve known you practically all your life. I’ve given every last bit of myself to you and you can’t even-” They were face to face now, barely a breath between their bodies. She bought a hand up, hitting him lightly in the chest. He swayed but didn’t move away from her, ready to take whatever punishment she thought he deserved. She repeated her action until her tiny fists were pummelling his chest gently, their force having no effect on Jughead as she vented her frustrations. He took it all, willingly. “You’re an idiot, Forsythe Jones, and you’re a coward, a stubborn, foolish coward!” His arms came up to encircle her in his hold, halting her frantic movements. She broke, collapsing into his chest as a new wave a sobs - relieved sobs - poured forth. She tried to get her erratic breathing under control, wanting to get the words out. “You’re the bravest, most selfless person I know, I couldn’t do this without you, don’t you ever do that again.” He shushed her, soothing hands stroking her hair as they rocked back and forth in the gentle glow of the rising sun. 

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t, I promise.” She looked up at him with tear stained cheeks, searching his features briefly before pulling his lips to her in a desperate kiss. His brow furrowed as the pain of never feeling this again, what he came so close to, washed over him, forcing tears to fall from under closed eyelids. Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging until a groan rumbled from deep inside his chest. His hands clutched so frantically at her hips she thought he’d leave marks. She wanted to be marked, possessed, anything to let them both know that this was it, they would always be it. 

He walked her back towards their bedroom, stopping briefly to push her up against the wall, lips trailing down her neck, sucking a deliciously painful bruise over her thumping pulse. “I love you, Betty. I love you so much,” he got out between frenzied kisses, moving his lips back to hers to swallow the intoxicating moans she let fall freely. 

He took his time, memorising every inch of her familiar body as if he’d never seen it before, as if this was the last time he’d ever see it. Her smooth, tan skin, the dark pink blush that travelled all the way down between her firm breasts, the dip in her collarbone, the way the muscles in her stomach clenched as he moved lower down her body, basking in the heat between her thighs. His heart broke at every tiny mewl that slipped from between her lips as he coaxed her towards the edge, begging with his touch for her to feel every apology he could never say. 

They lay together, light sheen coating both their skins, limbs tangled irretrievably with one another, clutching at their lifeline. 

“I’ll never hurt you again, I promise,” he whispered into her hair as they drifted off into a peaceful sleep, now they were back in each other’s arms. “Do you believe me?” He had to know. There was a beat where he thought she was already dreaming before her voice floated through the darkness, carrying with it the sweetest words he’d ever had the privileged to hear.

“I believe you, Jughead.”

The Woman and the East Wind (or Play her p3)

Sherrinford was exactly as Irene had expected, a cold, isolated, imperial fortress. She wondered how a Holmes could survive such a loneliness, such a… boredom.  
And she smiled then, that’s why Sherlock visits her so often, she thought, makes perfect sense after all. She almost felt sorry for Sherlock’s psychopathic serial killer’s sisters. Almost.

As she was about to enter Eurus’s cell, Sherlock’s hand found hers and stopped her. She turned meeting his eyes. Even thought his face seemed as tough and serious as always, she could feel a slight tremor in his fingers “You don’t have to do this, we could still…” but she didn’t let him finish that sentence. She pulled a finger on his lips and silenced him pronouncing some simple words “It will be fine”, and he nodded in return before adding “Just be careful”.  

Irene smirked at him one last time before disappearing into the tube that led to Eurus’s cell.

Irene walked slowly, unsure of how to proceed.
Eurus was not exactly how she had expected her to be, her eyes were incredibly cold and yet at the same time, her fingers were dancing in the most elegant and delicate manner.

Her gesture was almost magnetic, she was a siren, and Irene felt the immediate urge to take a step closer, to examine her, to understand her. Her long hairs were falling on her back, and she was walking barefoot around. Irene stopped for a second; Sherlock was definitively right, his sister was not the usual psychopath. Sadly for Eurus, the woman was not the usual girl either, so Irene stopped, joined her hands kept staring at Sherlock’s evil sister.

Eurus, on her side, stopped her hypnotic movements and started staring at her.

The younger Holmes stayed silent for a bunch of seconds, and Irene almost feared she would not have said a word for the whole time of her visit, she feared or maybe hoped that she would have deduced everything of her without even asking a single thing.

Regardless of this, Eurus’s silence didn’t last much and some seconds after Eurus’s enthusiasm surprised her, as the woman heard her loud, secure and excited voice exclaiming

“The woman!”

And Irene smirked for a moment before managing to reply, with an unexpectedly intrigued  tone “The east wind.”

“Come closer” Eurus continued inviting her guest with a gesture of the hand “I want to see you better” she whispered looking her through the glass, but the woman had no intention to obey her. Or anyone else, she was a former Dominatrix, after all, only one person could command her her, sometimes, and that person was a different Holmes.

“I’m comfortable here” she hissed fiercely, with almost a challenging tone and Eurus understood, even if she continued with the same insolence that she had shown before, that insolence that Sherlock feared would have endangered Irene so much. Her next words were a concentrate of all that “You’re beautiful and much hotter in person, but honestly, I don’t think that that’s what attracts Sherlock the most, with none offence.”
“None taken, his body is not what I prefer to him either” Irene replied staring at the other woman, who laughed amused “Of course not, his brain is far more fascinating, isn’t it?”
“To me, it is” the woman replied in a firm and secure tone.
“And mine?” the east wind asked taking a step closer, almost reaching the glass that divided them.
Irene didn’t hesitate to speak the following words “You’re a Holmes and from what I’ve heard the most brilliant one so yes, I assume your brain must be something… remarkable”
Hearing those words made Eurus smile, in an awkward disquieting unsettling smile and the woman felt intrigued and scared in the same measure, then Eurus smirked whispering “I’ve heard so much about you too.”
Irene stared at her for a moment, then hissed “I haven’t heard enough about you”, and the younger Holmes laughed slightly before joining her hands “This doesn’t surprise me, Sherlock has the tendency to… hide me, but I would say that’s already a big improvement from erasing completely.”

Irene nodded imperceptibly. She knew Eurus was right.

Sherlock had spent years closing himself up, preventing anyone to understand him, how he truly… thought, what he felt, who he really was. He had spent years building this… unbreakable wall around him, actually believing that showing… feeling, any kind of affection would have damaged him, his work, his life. For years he had pretended to be this… perfect functioning machine and yet at a point John had unlocked something in him, as Eurus had, as herself had too, probably.

Irene was not sure.

She was never sure when he was concerned. This is what she… appreciated most about him, what made her feel…overwhelmed. It was the fact that he was capable of challenging her in a way no one else had ever managed to, he was capable of dealing with her in a way no one else could. He was special, he was the definition of special to her, but what was he to her, or she to him, eventually? Neither of them was sentimental, neither of them liked to truly speak about… emotions, connections, sentiments.

And yet years had gone by, and he had changed. And she had changed. And their… bound had somehow developed, or at least it seemed so to her. It was so to her, it was true. Real. They were becoming… real, in their way, at their terms, but still real.

After that some words escaped her mouth, words that were intended tp provoke Eurus, she told herself. Or maybe she was looking for an excuse to bring the subject up, an excuse to ask for her opinion. Eurus’s. Sherlock’s sister, an era-defying genius whose opinion and feelings evidently mattered to… to him.

“He barely replied any of my texts at first, now he’s more… active. Is that improvement to you?”

Eurus eye-bows raised instantly “What do YOU think, Irene?”.

Her voice sounded like course, or blessing, the woman was not sure. Surely the younger Holmes intended to underline her superior mind, sadly for her; Irene never had any intention to be outsmarted, so her reply arrived more insolently than she had intended to “What do you expect me to think, Eurus?”

Eurus Holmes stared at Irene Adler for what it seemed an eternity and the woman saw the east wind’s eyes running through her. She knew what the other woman was trying to do. She had seen it already, she had seen that kind of look on her before but Eurus, like her brother before her, seemed incapable of deducing THE woman, of… unveiling her and this shocked Eurus at the point that Irene almost saw a sign of surprise in her eyes. Almost. Some seconds after Eurus smirked gently and took a couple of steps back before exclaiming in an excited and almost scaring tone some words that Irene would have gladly avoided.

“Let’s make it funny. What do you feel for him?”

Unexpectedly the answer to that was not hard to give.
On the contrary, Irene suddenly felt as if she had been preparing for this conversation for years and words simply left her mouth.
“I thought you were an era-defying genius beyond Newton, Eurus.”

What happened after was a dangerous, intriguing and unrepeatable… game of chess.

“That’s about emotions and Sherlock has always have been the emotional one and you…” Eurus stopped for some seconds, probably looking for the right phrase to use or possibly only to arouse the woman’s curiosity “You’re the living proof of that, but sentiments… Sentiments, affection, attraction, love, lust… are all chemical defects, just chemical defects. And yet these mean something to him. And to you too, probably, so what do you think you are to him?”
“Why do you care?” Irene replied ending that question with an insolent smile on her lips.
“Who says I care?” Eurus hissed rolling her eyes.
“Why do you want me to answer, then?” the woman insisted taking a step closer, almost chasing her adverssary “Tell me.”
“What is he to you?” the younger Holmes continued fiercely “Tell me.”

Neither of them spoke, and for a moment a strange silence fell between them.
Then Eurus spoke again, her tone irreverent as before “Is he the love of your life, darling? A piece of you?”

Those words hit the woman’s pride. What was Sherlock to her? That was a question she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer to. The love of her life…it just seemed not right.
He was… so much more. He was… and in that moment some words escaped her mouth.

“He’s… a stimulating challenge, a constant intriguing, extraordinary, life-changing challenge.”
Hearing that made Eurus smile, an almost gentle smile “You’re playing your relationship down, you know it, I know it.”
“Do I?” Irene asked with false innocence, which only managed to slightly irritate Eurus. “You tell me. How was it?” her voice ringed as her eyes kept staring at the woman.
“What?” Irene asked genuinely confused, and the other woman replied almost immediately  “Everything…To find him, to love him, to lose him, to find him again… your emotional context with him…”
“Why are you so interested, Eurus?” the woman asked almost annoyed “And let’s not pretend it’s just because you need some emotional context, he has already given you that…” Irene added before stopping.
She stopped, for some seconds she stopped, thinking about that, reflecting about Eurus’s interest in her and after that, she continued with a more secure tone “You want to understand the human defect that bonds me to your brother, you are curious and you need to understand how it works because as much as you claim to know about… everything and everyone, “love” is something you don’t quite get.”
“You think you’re smart, but…” Eurus started but this time too the woman stopped her without remorse and spoke disregarding her opinion, finally understanding that, that was the only possible way to beat Eurus on her own game. So she hissed “Do you envy him or are you jealous of me?” she said that taking a further step closer, moving her legs like a blade in the warm flesh. In that moment Eurus’s hand reached her abdomen and whispered with an indignant tone “You really think I could find Human Connection intriguing enough to awake my interest? Why?”
“Because I think Human Connection can be quite…remarkable” the woman stated.
“How so?”

Irene gave her a sweet smile that seemed almost a mockery and then asked: “For a long time I’ve kept asking myself questions about it, haven’t you?”
“Do you realise I’ve been living in Sherrinford, isolated from the World, since I was five, right?” Eurus replied almost exasperated from that singular sister-in-law, and the woman in front of her nodded and whispered smirking “Of course I do, that’s why I think you’ve spent a considerable amount of time thinking about it, am I wrong?”

Another moment of silence happened between the two of them, and for the first time that day Irene almost felt Eurus true uncertainty. She lowered her eyes, but it didn’t last much. Vulnerability was something that disgusted her, as disguested Irene too probably, and yet there was a question she wanted, she… needed to ask her.

“Do you think is needed? Do you think you need him?”

“Do you?” the woman asked and seeing that the other had no intention to react, continued “What I think is that connection, real connection, is the rarest thing in the world and sometimes… sometimes it doesn’t even seem even worth it. I mean… Is it even possible? To truly know another person, to find that human being that understands you… how you think, how you move, the one who fits you, the one that… redefines how you perceive the surroundings. Is it even a worthwhile pursuit? Especially in a world when people… hurt each other… betray each other and…leave, suddenly and unexpectedly.”

She finished that sentence realising that that tone had become almost… emotional, she could almost feel tears trapped inside her eyes, which surprised her more than she should have. And Eurus, obviously, noticed that and made sure that the woman knew she had.

“Did that hurt?” she asked with a slight cruel tone in her voice “Believing him dead? Knowing that he would have never kissed you again, touched him again? Knowing that his gorgeous and reassuring body had become useless and cold. Did it burn your heart? Was it an unbearable weight that almost destroyed you?” she hesitated for a while, appreciating the woman’s slight tremor “Did it hurt?” she asked again.
“Does it matter?” the woman whispered staring at her in return, facing her attack “Did it hurt?” Eurus repeated in an almost severe tone.
“Does it matter?” the woman repeated, determined not to let Eurus win.

She was Sherlock’s sister, but some memories, some… secrets were theirs and theirs only. How she had felt when she lost him, or how he had felt after her first death… those feelings were completely private, a pain like that… surely needed to be… contained. And Eurus felt that, all of that, and suddenly her fluid voice filled in the room again.

“You won’t answer unless I answer first, will you?”

Irene silent smirk was the only encouragement Eurus needed to continue. And she did.

“It matters. Sherlock and you.” her voice hissed “ You…were right, I want to understand.” In that moment the woman almost laughed “Good luck then, not even I understand what that is”

She was being honest, and yet things were changing between them, she could feel that. Their… connection had changed in a way she had never expected to, they were… growing up, maybe. Or maybe they were just adjusting to each other, they were experimenting something new.

Usual people would have probably called that stable-loving-relationship, and yet they weren’t usual people, they had never had been.
And yet they had been living together for a while by then, she had been sharing his bed and his house, and… from time to his job, his fears, his hopes and… for the first time in her life, she was considering the idea of settling down. With Sherlock. That thought… almost disgusted her. Almost, because deep down, she felt as if she had been waiting for that moment, for him, for all her life.

Eurus’s voice distracted her once again “You are important to him”, and Irene stared at her, finally understanding what all that dialogue was about “You are important to him, too” she responded, serious and Eurus insisted once again.“And he cares for you, deeply.”
After that Irene shook her head “Please don’t. This is not a competition for affection, Eurus. He’s capable of caring for us both.”
“Is he?” the east wind whispered unsurely, and the woman nodded simply, and strangely her movements were also… reassuring “He’s more capable of that than he seems. And so are you.”

Suddenly Eurus’s expression relaxed and her lips formed an almost satisfied grin. Then she said something the woman had never expected to hear.

“My brother really has good taste.”
“Did you doubt that?” she said in return biting her lips.
“I did" the other replied honestly “It took him a while to get rid of your husband.”
“Ages” the woman hissed, trying so hard not to laugh.

Sherlock had really gotten rid of her husband, outsmarting him mentally and beating him physically. That memory was so unexpectedly…. pleasant to her, she had never thought she would have enjoyed seeing him jealous THAT much, but it wasn’t the right time to lose herself in those kinds of thoughts; so she continued “But I probably should thank you for that.”
“Me?” Eurus said faking a surprise “You” Irene repeated keeping staring at the younger Holmes, who smiled kindly understanding what the woman wanted to say “Sherlock didn’t tell you that, Irene” she whispered and the other nodded confirming that “He didn’t. Neither did the Ice Man, nor your parents.”

Eurus Holmes nodded and after that whispered her final opinion about the woman, Sherlock’s woman. Irene Adler. “You are as witty as you are intelligent, Irene. You really are”, and as the woman wanted to reply to that compliment the east wind spoke again “But I got to choose the name, not negotiable.”

Those words made the woman’s heart lose a beat. The name, Eurus, the era-defying genius Eurus Holmes had said “the name”, and for obvious reason, the woman had understood what Eurus was trying to say.

“What?” she exclaimed, hoping to be wrong.
But she wasn’t and Eurus smile confirmed that “Nero if it’s boy, Mata if it’s a girl, but it will be a boy this time I’m quite sure.”
“What?” Irene repeated again, trying so hard to remember the last time she had her period, trying to give a reasonable explanation for her recent tendency to throw everything up in the morning, or to the fact that she had been overemotional and…
Eurus saw the woman’s doubts and gave a small move of the head “You have understood.”

And still, Irene was not convinced “This is absurd, I was a dominatrix, I know my body” she whispered leading her hands towards her belly.

“Yes,” Eurus said noticing that gesture “Yes and you slept with my brother more or less two months ago, haven’t you?” Irene’s silence confirmed once again Eurus’s theory, so she continued “And last night. And this morning” after that the younger Holmes took a big breath before adding “Deep down you know I’m right.”
“I…” the woman started, but a noise behind her stopped her voice. The elevator that led to Eurus’s cell opened, and Sherlock appeared behind them, then she heard his voice saying “Time’s up sis.”

Bucky/Darcy, ‘Daydream’

for @amidtheflowers

Daydream - Wallace Collection

Bucky found his mind wandering more often than usual lately.  Although, he wasn’t sure if it counted as wandering if it always went to the same place…

Always up a few floors to where Darcy was working with Dr. Foster up in the Stark labs.  

Of course, once he got there, it sort of morphed into something else.  Unless Stark actually had a sunny field of flowers on the 52nd floor or something.  Bucky wouldn’t put it past him, but he didn’t think it was possible.  

And Darcy didn’t usually wear sundresses to work.  Definitely not pretty blue ones.   And she didn’t walk around barefoot up there either.  Barefoot.  Amid the flowers.  

Barefoot, amid the flowers, with him.  None of which was happening right now, unfortunately.  


Steve’s voice brought him out of his daydream abruptly.  He frowned.  “What?”  He was still in the weight room with Steve.  And if that wasn’t a bucket of cold water, he didn’t know what was.  

Rolling his eyes, Steve answered.  “Oh nothing, you were just supposed to be spotting me, not making goo-goo eyes at a dame that ain’t even here.”  

Bucky snorted.  “I’m not making any eyes at anyone. Punk.”

“You were making eyes at someone.  And unless it was me or Sam…it was at Darcy.”

Scoffing, he shook his head. “Darcy?  Darcy who?”     

Sam choked out a laugh from across the room.  

Steve shot him an incredulous look. “Just go upstairs and ask her out.  That’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do ya know.”  

“You what else is a perfectly acceptable thing to do?  Minding your own business,” Bucky retorted, already planning his trip up to ask Darcy out on a date later that day.

Written for the @jonsaexchange for @broodybluebird! This is very silly and long haha, sorry about that. Though I promise it contains a forehead kiss™ Hope you like it!

Once Upon A Dream: Jonsa Sleeping Beauty AU (with some adjustments)

Summary: Sansa is under a curse - fallen into a magical sleep, she, according to the prophecy, can only be awoken by a kiss from a dragon. Arya rides south to ask for help from the dragon king Aegon, but the king’s grumpy half brother Jon might prove to be an obstacle. 

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A/N - AU world inspired by the TV show Sons of Anarchy.
Everything is told from Katya’s POV.

A/N 2 - Soo, I didn’t die, surprise! I just had a huge writer block and I am still not 100% happy with this chapter and I probably never will be but I guessed it was about time I let you all know that I am not abandoning this fanfic! It might take me some time to write it all but I am eventually gonna get it done.

A/N 3 - Russian words used in this chapter - aunt, damn.

T/W - bad language, probably grammar mistakes, mentions of drugs and death.

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The Road To Recovery

Chapter 1: Safety

Characters: Rowena, reader

Pairing: Rowena/reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Warning: Whump

Summary: Rowena escapes from Lucifer, but the torture is far from over. Recovery is hard, and reader is intent on helping her through it.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

One foot in front of the other.

That’s what she’s been telling herself ever since she escaped the hell-house that once used to be a luxurious hotel, and was now nothing but a painful reminder of what she’d gone through.

One foot in front of the other.

She could do it. She didn’t come this far to give up. Just one foot in front of the other, step by step, and she would be safe. She repeated the mantra in her head as she entered the all too familiar apartment building, sighing in relief at the sight of the lift. Never before had she been so happy to see it!

Stepping inside, she leaned against the wall, lifting her right foot up to relieve her wounded sole of the pressure. In her hurry to escape, she had the misfortune to step on a piece of glass, cutting deep into the sensitive skin. It hurt like a bitch, but the pain of it couldn’t compare to the pain he inflicted on her just moments earlier. She would walk on glass, barefoot, for miles rather than go through that again.

Arriving on the desired floor, she limped through the dimly lit hallways, headed for the place she never craved as much as she did now. This building differed greatly from the opulent, high class hotels she’d been accustomed to. The tiny apartment was barely the size of a bathroom in the luxurious hotel rooms she loved to frequent. Despite all that, this place had its charm. It was small, yes. The neighbors tended to be nosy from time to time, and suspicious-looking people sometimes gathered in the parking lot. But it was home.

There weren’t that many places Rowena could call home. Through her many centuries on this Earth, Rowena had been to many places, but none she’d ever stayed at long enough to call home.

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Tagging:@apritelleorai @passmesomepie @oswinthestrange @salembitchtrials @violinmyhead @songofthecagedmoose @h-lodge @getthesalt-sam @darktweet @lucifer-in-leather

Anchor, Chapter 2 (Widowtracer)

// I’m back from my trip! So here’s chapter two. Chapter one is a couple posts down if you missed it ;D

It had been years. Years since she had met Amelie since she had disappeared from that woman’s arms, since she had felt so happy in such a dark moment.
Lena had, eventually, returned. Winston had met her, told her his plans, and saved her life. But during the time that he worked with her before she was actually safe, Lena and Amelie had grown so much closer. The ballet dancer always seem shook from their first experience yet she had tried so hard to forget it, to be a signal of strength for Lena. To many, their quick affection had been quite odd. The highly sophisticated, incredibly beautiful and smart French ballerina with the hyperactive, scruffy, adventurous pilot? They had nearly nothing in common, mere chance had brought them together.

Lena didn’t quite understand it either. Not until the day Amelie had disappeared herself.

Much like Lena, Amelie had her own disappearance. At the time it had broken Lena’s heart. She and her friend’s husband, Gerard, had shared a fair amount of tears. Talon, those bastards, had stolen their friend to do God knows what to her. Everyone in Overwatch knew Talon wasn’t particularly nice to captives. Ever since Overwatch had recovered their first Talon captives they had done their best to lose no one else. But an attack on a civilian related to Overwatch? It had always been a possibility, precautions had been made, yet it had never occurred until now.

Then one day Amelie reappeared. Overwatch uncovered intelligence, thanks to Gerard himself, that several people kidnapped by Talon were being kept in a base in London, right in Lena’s backyard! The Brit herself had led the assault that saved those captives. She had burst straight through the front door, taken out several enemy soldiers within seconds, and had blown away the lock of the holding cells, dashed inside and embraced Amelie.

“It’s ok Amelie,” She whispered, more so to herself than the ballerina. “I’m here, you’re safe.”

Amelie didn’t react for a solid minute, then finally she wrapped her arms around Tracer and pressed her face against the Brit. She said nothing. Lena had decided to take her to safety then get the rest, the entire raid was incredibly successful. Lena rode home in silence, watching her comrades cheer…and watching Amelie curl into a ball in her seat staring at nothing.

But this wasn’t the disappearance I had mentioned before, no. Amelie had been rescued, all was well, right?


“Ugh…” Lena groaned, two weeks after the raid to rescue Amelie. She couldn’t seem to fall asleep tonight.

Her dorm was, compared to most, quite posh. Lena had taken it upon herself to get rid of the dull furniture that Overwatch provided and buy her own replacements that suited her taste. Against the rules? Yes, definitely. But with Winston’s help, they managed to sneak everything in. Her bed was shoved in a corner, surrounded by a mess of laundry. Her closet was filled with both civilian and military clothes, a desk with a computer on top and a chair sat by the window, giving a dazzling view to the city that this Overwatch base overlooked, somewhere in Sweden. Lena herself was wearing yellow shorts and a yellow t-shirt that opened up so her chronal accelerator could pop through. She walked around barefoot, liking the feeling of the carpet.

She walked for a good five minutes, pacing in circles, unsure what to do. She knew why she couldn’t sleep: Amelie. Ever since the rescue that women had occupied every moment of Lena’s life. The Brit wanted to go talk to her, embrace her, cry on her shoulder or hold Amelie as she cried. She just wanted to be with her for crying out loud.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lena knew that, for their protection, Gerard and Amelie were living here. Hell, she even knew what room they were sharing. Convincing herself that she was going for nothing more than a midnight walk, Lena walked out of her room and in direction of the ballerina’s. Everything was silent, minus the soft sound of her bare feet against the floor. Guards were walking around here and there, each time they passed Lena they gave her a respectful nod.

The Brit was almost to her destination, she could see the door when someone rounded the corner. It was Commander Morrison, looking as tough and as serious as ever. He was wearing sweatpants, a tank top, and fluffy bunny slippers. (Had it been anyone but Commander Morrison Lena would’ve had a good laugh at that. It was quite funny to see her superior officer wearing those.

“Can’t sleep, Oxton?” He asked, smiling dryly as they drew close. She smiled more brightly and gave him a half-assed salute.

“No sir, I just kept thinking about my favorite commander and wanted to go see him,” She replied.

“Ha, kiss ass,” He remarked, shaking his head and smiling wider. It disappeared fast. “Why are you here, Lena?”

“Just walking around, sir-”

“Is that the only reason you came through here?” He asked again, more sternly. Lena was about to fumble her way out of this one when she heard glass break, it had come from Amelie’s room. The two agents turned their eyes to the door as it opened.

“What the…” Lena muttered.

It was Amelie, wearing nothing more than a thin white nightgown that was only somewhat paler than her own pale skin. The ballerina’s amber eyes were full of anger or shock, Lena couldn’t which, and her dark hair was flowing down her back. But what really caught their eyes was the blood. Blood all over Amelie’s arms, some splattered on her neck and face, and plenty painting her hands red. Amelie’s eyes met Lena’s and she dashed off, dropping something.

“Oh no…” Morrison muttered, then louder. “No no no no!”

Lena watched him dash into the bedroom, then followed in a single blink. What she saw made her gasp, it froze her heart. On the single bed of the room lay Gerard, his body covered in blood, his neck sliced several times.


“Private Oxton,” Commander Morrison said, turning to her. His eyes showed nothing but rage. “Don’t let her get away.”

Lena’s eyes met her commander’s and that was all she needed to shake out of it. She snapped a quick salute and blinked out of the room, then down the hall in the direction Amelie was heading. Yet, somehow, Lena knew she wasn’t going to harm Amelie in any way. She was worried.

Gunshots came down another hall and Lena blinked in that direction. Once, twice, three times. She finally saw Doctor Ziegler there, crouched next to a wounded guard.

“Lena, Amelie has gone mad!” Ziegler barked, pointing down the hall. “She’s heading for the roof, go!”

Lena didn’t need to be told twice. She dashed down the halls faster than she ever had before, a streak of neon blue light. Nothing would stop her, not the people she dodged, not the image of dead Gerard in her head, not the limited charge in her chronal accelerator. She just had to get to Amelie.

Finally, the Brit blinked up a final flight of stairs and she found her target. Amelie, standing by the edge of the roof, looking down.

“Don’t move!” Lena yelled, her concern obvious. “Please, Amelie, don’t move!”

“Turn around,” The dancer said, her voice shaky. Scared. “Please, just turn around leave me.”

“Amelie, what happened? Was it Talon-”

“It was me!” The other yelled, balling her fists.

“Amelie, I don’t know what’s going on,” Lena said carefully, taking a step forward. “But you can trust me, you know you can trust me. I’ll always be here for you, yeah?”

“Please, Lena, it’s not so simple-”

“I don’t care, I swear I’ll help you,” The Brit cut in, blinking in front of the woman. “I swear it on my life.”

“Why do you care so much about me?” Amelie whispered, her voice cracking.

“I love you,” Lena Oxton said, clear and firm, with as much certainty as she could muster. She hadn’t thought of her feelings as love before, but she knew they were the truth the moment she spoke them. “I love you, Amelie.”

“As do I, Lena Oxton,” Amelie whispered, suddenly pulling Lena close and pressing their lips together.

It was a short kiss, yet full of passion and love and bitterness from both of them as if somehow they both knew what was going to happen next. Finally, Amelie pulled away, just an inch.

“This is the last time you will see Amelie,” Widowmaker whispered. “If you love me, then next time we meet you must do me a favor. You must kill me.”

“Wha- No!”

“Goodbye, mon cherie,” Widowmaker said, pushing Lena away and letting herself fall off the rooftop.

Lena immediately blinked forward, and she would’ve blinked off the building too if it meant saving her beloved, but when she looked down the side of the building she saw nothing.

Amelie was gone.