#I think there are many things in fandom that smack of gender so to speak

[maddie-grove]

It beats the sexist character-bashing of my youth, and I’m glad to see gestures at feminism in these benighted times, but I’m pretty bored with “we should realize that this female character doesn’t NEED a man and ship her male love interests with each other.” You don’t have to ship a character with anyone in order to explore them, obviously, and certainly m/f romance can feature regressive gender roles or treat the female character as a prop/cipher, but. Like. I think both m/f and f/f shippers sometimes write about women in relationships because they are interested in those female characters and enjoy romance in fiction. You don’t need to throw them all under the bus to give your perfectly fine shipping preference a patina of feminism.

[del1ghted]

I just found your blog and really love your modern Xiao and Childe! would you maybe do some for Albedo or Diluc? :)

mhm of course !!

short modern au diluc & albedo relationship headcanons

pairings: diluc x reader, albedo x reader

warnings: none

fandom: genshin impact

gender neutral pronouns used as always !

-

diluc

-> diluc is rich and rather well known around town, so i don’t think he’d be into public restaurant dates since too many people come up to him with questions about him or your relationship. he’d rather have a fancy meal at home with just the two of you, completely relaxed with the fireplace flickering in the background.

-> an absolute pro at cooking. despite him having adelinde and countless other maids at his disposal he prefers to be independent and be able to do things for himself. he tells you about the summer when he was younger how he desired to be a chef, which led to him learning and trying to perfect countless of dishes until the dream wore itself out. the recipes he favored the most he knows by heart and has you try them.

-> allows you and only you to braid and try different styles on him since he has a lot of hair, although he doesn’t have the courage to leave the comfort of his room with them unless you reassure him that he doesn't look ridiculous.

-> he can barely contain a soft smile if you show up during his shift at angel's share; if you agreed to hide your relationship for the sake of privacy it's pretty much useless since rumors spread regardless, no matter how hard diluc tries he can't stop how fond he looks when he sees you.

-> rants about his adoptive younger brother kaeya often. it's honestly a little endearing to see diluc riled up every once and awhile; losing his 'gentleman composure' in favor of smacking kaeya on the head occasionally. his jealousy stems from seeing you two together, while kaeya might have a naturally flirtatious personality he gets a little insecure if you get along really well with him.

-> this man goes above and beyond for anniversaries. he doesn't post much if not at all on social media but on special days he can't help but want to share how much he loves you with the world. diluc would book the fanciest places and have a little weekend get-away for just the two of you.

-> finds it adorable when you wear his coat, will subtly hand it to you more often under the guise that "it's cold."

"oh it's fine diluc i brought a jacke-"

"mine's better."

-> if you're bedridden with a fever he knows exactly what to do! used to taking care of himself and his brother while his dad was busy, adelinde also helps with providing medicine and soups that'll help with your headache. gives you his favorite brand of grape juice and light scented candles around your room to make you feel comfortable.

-

albedo

-> this boy's favorite thing to do is draw you. seriously- he keeps a separate sketchbook entirely dedicated to you because he can't get enough. it starts when he's at a cafe, mindlessly doodling over his notes when he realizes he's sketching out the beginnings of your face. he feels a little flustered but doesn't erase it because admittedly, he likes the drawing a lot.

-> not too good at expressing his love with words, so he'll reach down and lace your fingers together without explanation while recalling the results of an experiment.

-> loves museum, library, and study dates ! his favorite place to kiss you is against a shelf hidden away in the corner of the local bookstore - cupping your face oh so gently as he compliments your features.

-> a bit short tempered with others if he hasn't seen you all day; melts in your arms once he sees you and heaves a long sigh, complaining about everything that annoyed him that evening as you brush his hair back.

-> the slightest bit shy talking about his interests for long, thinks he's annoying you and may retreat just a bit once he realizes he's talked all evening. please tell him you adore hearing him speak about what he likes, his eyes will light up!!

“ah.. i apologize, i didn’t mean to continue for that long.”

“no no it’s alright! please continue i’m interested!”

“oh....okay then” :)

-> as said in his voicelines albedo thinks relationships are taxing because of the effort of maintaining it. his love language comes in quality time above all else, finding it much easier to stay in your presence. he’ll feel comfortable even if there’s no conversation going—you being there is enough.

-> if you’re an affectionate person he honestly might get a little spoiled and drunk off that love. good luck trying to leave bed in the morning, he’ll tug you down and wrap his arms around you stubbornly.

-> was never a morning person, the urge to stay in bed all the time only increases when he’s bundled up with you. despite his desire to never leave the comfort of the sheets, he brings you breakfast with your desired drink after you both get up.

-

A/N: i hope i gave you what you were looking for ! thank you for requesting !!

... i had to add sibling kaeya cameo because we dont get soft kaeya and dilic in canon sigh >:[

[t-lostinworlds]

can you do tom and reader who’s most likely too couple edition 🥺

TH’s YouTube Extras: Most Likely To

a/n: i’m sorry this took long, love. this is short and sweet, kinda a different format but i hope you still like it! Oh and Harry is in italics ahaha.

☰ youtube channel | recent video

-:-:-:-:-

You were sat crossed legged on the couch, closely beside Tom who was all sprawled out. His legs were open wide as he leaned back on the cushion with one arm on the back of the sofa, right behind you. There was a camera on a tripod right in front of you both that was already recording.

"Hello guys! Welcome to our...second channel, should I call it?" Tom turned to you with a chuckle. You gave him a nod and a sweet smile. "This is basically where we post the shorter and more unplanned videos," he elaborated, glancing back at the camera with a soft chuckle.

"Today we're going to be doing a quick Who Is Most Likely To," you explained. "We've got our ping-pong paddles right here with each our name on opposite sides," you added, showing the camera the paddles with Tom doing the same.

"And Harry is right behind the camera to ask the questions," Tom finished, pointing towards Harry to get this game going.

Who's most likely to date a celebrity?

"That's such a bad first question," you scoffed with a shake of your head, lifting up the paddle with your name.

"I mean, she's dating one now," Tom laughed, doing the exact same and showed your name as he wriggled his brows at the camera.

Who's most likely to be dramatic?

Both of you raised the paddle with Tom's name on it, the lad beside you chuckling with a nod.

"Yeah, I don't think we need to explain this one," he said.

"He's just over dramatic with everything," you pointed out with a playful roll of your eyes.

"No, I'm not!" Tom protested with a loud gasp, the hand that held the paddle landing on his chest as he gawked at you.

"You were saying?" You raised your brow, Tom pouting in response but didn't bother to say another word. You giggled at that, leaning towards him to place a sweet kiss on his cheek that was quick to replace his pout with a bright grin.

Who's most likely to die due to something stupid?

Tom showed your name with a soft chuckle, you nodding in agreement as you lifted the paddle up with your name too.

"I'm just so clumsy," you laughed. "I'd probably slip and break my neck in the process so yeah, me."

"You see now why I'm overprotective over your clumsy but pretty ass?" Tom pointed out, narrowing his eyes at you. "I need to wrap you in those human-size bubbles to keep you from harm I swear."

"See what I mean about overdramatic?" you challenged, turning to the camera with a deadpan expression.

"It's just 'cause I love you too much, darling," he crooned, leaning closer to place a tender kiss on your temple. You leaned into his warmth with a soft hum and a love-struck smile on your lips, a sight that only made Tom's heart melt.

Mostly like to go to prison for something stupid?

"Probably me," Tom chuckled, paddle up to show his name.

You did just the same. "I mean you've already admitted to wanting to rob a bank," you giggled.

"If I have superpowers," he countered.

"But that's still a very stupid thing to admit in public, is it not?" you giggled, Tom sighing softly as he nodded in agreement.

Who's most likely to cry during a sad movie?

Both of you lifted your paddles up at the same time, your name written on each of it.

"I mean I'm a big crier too but it would take a very emotional scene. But the minute she sees someone else cry, she's gone," Tom explained, turning you with a soft chuckle.

"I don't know why but yeah, every time I see someone else cry, I start crying too," you admitted with a timid laugh.

Tom's arm fell from the couch and landed on your shoulder, giving your arm a loving squeeze as he pulled you closer to his side, keeping it touch there for the rest of the video. "It just means you've got a big heart," he gushed, flashing you one of his many charming grins. You beamed at him lovingly in response, giving him a light pat on the chest as a silent 'thank you'.

Who's most likely to cry during sex?

"What kind of cry?" Tom asked, turning towards his brother.

...just generally speaking.

"Well, I haven't so—" Tom shrugged as he lifted his paddle up with your name on it.

"I have," you muttered softly, lifting the paddle of your name up, covering your face with it to hide your slight embarrassment.

"When it just feels too go—" Tom stopped himself when you shot him a death glare. He turned back to the camera and laughed, "I'm not going to finish that sentence or I'll die."

Who's most likely to go a week without a shower?

You showed Tom's name swiftly with a laugh, him doing just the same with a shaking his head in slight shame.

"It's because I'm too busy sometimes," Tom reasoned, turning to look at you with a pout, finger running up and down your arm softly.

"I don't let that happen by the way," you said as you turned to the camera. "If I need to drag him to the shower then I will."

"Among other things she does to get me in the shower," Tom muttered, mischief glimmering in his orbs as he wriggled his brows at you suggestively.

You could only roll your eyes at him.

Most likely to be a romantic?

The two of you looked at each other, paddles remaining down, smiles on your lips because you both know it was a tie.

"We're both equally romantics," Tom chuckled, giving your arm a squeeze before turning to the camera as he added, "She occasionally gives me flowers out of the blue and it honestly makes my heart soar every damn time."

You laughed with a shrug. "Yeah, because flowers don't have genders you know. A lady can get her man flowers too," you hummed, beaming widely at Tom.

"Damn right." He shot the camera firm look before turning to meet your gaze again. "I love getting flowers from you," he gushed, hand running up and down your arm fondly.

"And I love getting flowers from you too." You tilted your head at him with a bright, loving smile. "And sweets," you giggled.

Who is most likely to initiate sex?

"We both do," Tom chuckled, turning to you, his brows furrowing when you had your paddle up with his name on it.

"More Tom than me but not by much," you explained to the camera with a shrug, the lad chuckling without any protest because it was in fact, true.

Who's most likely to use the other person's toothbrush?

You quickly raised Tom's name with a shake of your head. "Mainly because I would never," you said, glancing over to your boyfriend who had his own name up. You stared at him curiously. "Wait a sec, have you?"

Tom flashed you a guilty smile. "It was an accident," he started. "I thought I grabbed my toothbrush but as soon as I placed it in my mouth I made eye-contact with my actual toothbrush and yeah."

"Tom!" you gasped, smacking his shoulder lightly.

"It's not like my tongue hasn't been in your mouth before!" he defended with a laugh.

"That's different you muppet! You're not shoving your tongue in my mouth to clean it now aren't you?"

"Shoving is a bit harsh," he muttered which only earned a glare from you. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! But it was an accident I swear," he chuckled, wrapping both his arms around you for a quick hug, a soft kiss landing on top of your head soon after.

All you could do was sigh, Tom letting you go with a chuckle as he sat straighter. "Right, last one," he said.

Who is most likely to give a lap dance?

Tom showed your name with a smirk, glancing at your answer which only made him furrow his brows. "What'd you mean me?" Tom chuckled as he gestured towards your paddle with his name on it.

"Uh, have you seen your umbrella performance?" you said as a matter of fact, turning towards the camera with a grin.

The lad beside you groaned in dismay as he hung his head, earning a laugh from you. Lifting his head back up with a grin, he turned to you with a brow raised in challenge. "But who has actually given one?" Tom countered.

You felt your cheeks heat up at that.

"Yeah, that's right turn that paddle around," he teased, you showing your name with a sigh as you hid your face behind the paddle once again. "I'm a very very lucky guy," he hummed towards the camera, earning an eye-roll from you.

"So, that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed this short-styled video. And we'll see you again next time!"

Once he was sure that the camera was off, Tom was quick to wrap his arms around your torso, snuggling into you with a glimmer in his brown orbs.

"Babe, I don't feel like showering today," Tom whined, pout in full play as he looked at you expectantly.

"What, you want an incentive?" You raised a brow at your man, your fingers combing through his hair adoringly.

"Please?" he cooed, hiding face on the crook of your neck, a hot kiss landing on your skin soon after. "Save some water?"

You can't help but giggle at that, knowing that it wasn't a good point since you mostly spend longer in the shower when you're with him. But either way, his offer does sound very alluring.

"Fine, shower in five minutes."

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! tell me your thoughts! <3

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[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

I promise

Fandom: Harry Potter

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

TW: violence, insecurity, umbridge being umbridge

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Word Count:3.3K

Request:  Would you write about George Weasley dating a Slytherin girl? I love the idea since he's the softer twin and he would never judge. With the family and friends being rather sceptical thinking she is maybe just pranking him, but they actually love each other a lot :)

Masterlist

A/N: I’m kinda proud of this but also not, so I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. Hope you enjoy. Also this is my favourite gif of Fred and George.

(Y/N)'s heart was thrumming aggressively against her chest as she made her way along the long stone corridors. Several students whispered as they watched her pass. News spread quickly in Hogwarts, just as it does in any school and this news was no different. A Weasley and a Slytherin were like water and oil - they never mixed. Yet a Weasley and a Slytherin were wandering down the halls together, hand in hand. Not just a Weasley either, one of the infamous Weasley twins, who were notorious for their pranks against Slytherin in particular.

(Y/N) couldn't help but hold onto George's hand a little tighter, her other hand clutching her luggage. This would be (Y/N)'s first time visiting the rest of the Weasley family, though she was well aware of their opinion of her. George tried his best to lie to her but nothing slips past a Slytherin. She knew very well that Ron and Percy cared very little for their relationship, they were very hesitant, quite understandably so. Slytherin's had been doing them dirty from their first day so (Y/N) couldn't exactly blame them. Fred was, well, Fred. As long as his brother was happy, he couldn't care less. And at first, Molly and Arthur were ecstatic upon reading George's first letter about the couple, but after learning of her house, you could say they were more than a little sceptical. Ginny was especially unsure of their relationship, following her mother in being furiously protective of her family But George, he was everything she'd ever wanted. Respectful and kind, loving and gentle. Who knew the boisterous prankster was such a caring soul? Many couldn't tell Fred from George or Forge from Gred, but (Y/N) was one of the select few. George had a small crook in his nose, he was a few inches taller (despite Fred's constant denial of the fact), while Fred a scar on his left eyebrow and his voice was just a tad bit higher. Barely noticeable things but when you spend as much time with them as (Y/N) does, you learn to tell the difference.

The main thing that split them apart, however, was their personality. Fred was always the first to speak, the one who often suggested the more disruptive, ruckus pranks and the one who took longer someone's emotions. While George, he was the more sensitive of the pair, he would discard any pranks that could hurt anyone involved and he usually was second to speak.

(Y/N) and George's hands remained linked until they reached the train, the pair brushing off the fake gags and teasing comments from Fred with a chuckle and a roll of the eyes.

"How are you and Angelina not together yet, Freddie?" George shot back to one of Fred's comments, barking out a laugh as Fred's cheeks dusted a red that practically matched his hair. Fred huffed indignantly.

"Don't think we didn't notice the googoo eyes you were sending each other at the Yule Ball," (Y/N) added playfully, nudging Fred's arm and he sent them a teasing glare.

"Suprised you guys noticed us since you pair were goggling each other like two idiots," Fred defended weakly, the red of his cheeks spreading to the tips of his ears. (Y/N) and George simply shrugged with a laugh, knowing exactly they had been looking at each other. The Yule Ball had been a, for lack of better words, magical night for them and they had the time of their lives.

"Oi, lovebirds, I'm heading to the trolley, d'you want anything?" Fred asked, pushing himself up from his window seat. The couple shook their heads, mumbling thanks anyway. "Alright, suit yourself. Don't have too much fun while I'm gone."

"He's so going to find Angelina," (Y/N) commented as soon as Fred was out of earshot. George hummed in agreement, lazily throwing his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders.

"Oh definitely," He agreed with a snicker, before pulling her closer and looking out the window, a contented look gracing his pale, freckled features. Seeing him so peaceful made (Y/N) feel bad about the topic she was about to bring up but her palms were clammy and her heart wouldn't stop pounding in fear.

"Hey, Georgie?"

"Yes, love?" George turned his face to look at, who he saw as, the light of his life.

"What if your family don't like me? I know Ginny, Ron and Percy aren't exactly my biggest fans, but what if your mom hates me? Or your dad?" She'd been yet to share any of her insecurities with the ginger but he knew this conversation had been coming for a long time. Any time he brought up meeting his family, she'd change the subject. It took two weeks and nearly all of Fred and George's effort to convince her to even come this time around. George took (Y/N)'s clammy hand into his own and squeezed it tightly.

"Darling, they're going to love you. I know Ron and Percy don't like you much but Percy's a stuck up snob and Ron can be a twat sometimes," The insult made the girl snort, and that alone caused George to grin "And, well, Ginny is very protective. And she scares me and Fred. But they'll come around, they haven't time to get to know you like me and Freddie. Once they see what a sweetheart you are, they'll love you as much as Fred does."

"Why not as much as you do?" She asked, waiting for some cheesy joke.

"Because no one can love you as much as I can."

"God, you have gone soft, haven't you, Weasley?" (Y/N) giggled teasingly, absentmindedly running patterns on his hands. George tugged her closer resulting in her letting out a small screech of laughter.

"Careful, (L/N), your Slytherin is showing," He said, in his typical joking fashion, gently tapping her nose "In all seriousness though, love, my family won't care that you're a Slytherin, it's all going to work out. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

Just as George leant down to press a kiss to his girlfriend's lips, Fred came bursting back into the compartment. And though he was holding onto some sweets from the trolley, his hair was ruffled and out of shape and there was a clear lipstick smear around his mouth.

"Got the sweets," Fred stated, slightly breathless, stumbling in and plopping down opposite the pair.

"And then some," (Y/N) replied, a sly smile sliding onto her face, and George nudged her with his shoulder despite his obvious agreement.  

"Alright, alright. I get it," Fred muttered sheepishly, as he began to open his chocolate frog. (Y/N) and George exchanged a look before deciding to let it go. Just this once.

"Oh, dear, it's so nice to finally meet you!"Two arms latched around (Y/N) in a bear hug before she could even register the voice. Something, however, in the famously tight hug gave her the inkling of a feeling that this was Mrs Weasley. Fred and George had warned her of their mother's python-like grip, and how hard it was to breathe, but until that moment, she'd never believed them. Molly pulled back from the hug and held (Y/N) at arm's length with a beaming smile. But she could see the hesitant past her eyes.

"It's lovely to meet you too, Mrs Weasley. Fred and Georgie have told me all about you," (Y/N) responded politely, returning a kind smile that made Ron and Harry, who were stood behind Molly, do a double-take.

"Oh, now what have you boys told this poor girl?" Molly called over her shoulder to Fred and George, both of whom let out boisterous laughter.

"Didn't need to tell her anything, mum," Fred began, folding his arms, eyes raised playfully.

"She's heard all your howlers," George finished, wrapping an arm around (Y/N) shoulders. (Y/N) gently smacked his chest, berating him for his teasing.

"Don't worry Mrs Weasley, I've been their mother away from home," (Y/N) reassured and George rolled his eyes,

"She's right, our ears are sore from all her bloody tugging and yelling," Fred said, leaning his elbow on (Y/N)'s head.

"Alright, alright, that's enough. Come on, let's get home," Mrs Weasley urged with a warm smile.

The Weasley household was just as hectic as the twins had described. There was constant chatter and shouting and laughing. Even more so with Fred and George's eldest brother, Charlie, visiting. But it was warm and homely and (YN) instantly felt welcomed by the house, even if not so much by the family yet.

"You must be (Y/N)," Mr Weasley said, standing up from the couch as the family entered and offered the girl his hand. (Y/N) shook it firmly and George shot her a reassuring smile.

"You must be Mr Weasley," She returned with a raised eyebrow. Arthur chuckled, already liking the girl's attitude. Percy and, who (Y/N) presumed to be, Bill came down the stairs at the sudden commotion, knowing the family were home. "Ah, Percy, a pleasure as always."

Percy only gave her a curt nod, looking very much like he'd swallowed a lemon. After settling in and meeting Bill, with whom (Y/N) got along with like a house on fire, it was soon time for dinner. The large family all positioned themselves around the table, (Y/N) with a twin on either side. Everyone around her was engaged in conversation but she was quite happy digging into her meal.

"So (Y/N) how are you enjoying Hogwarts?" Arthur questioned, and suddenly all eyes were on her. (Y/N) swallowed her mouthful of food and glanced at George nervously.

"I love it there, Mr Weasley. It's like having a massive family. Well, apart from Malfoy," There was scattered laughter amongst the family, but Ron just gave her a sour look.

"What, even though you're a Slytherin yourself?"He snapped harshly, stabbing some of the food on his plate.

"Ron!" Five voices sounded, belonging to Fred, George, Bill and Mr and Mrs Weasley, narrowing their eyes at the young ginger.

"We're not all that bad Ron, Malfoy and his gang just give us a bad rep, I suppose," (Y/N) said quietly, brushing off the tension. Ginny raised her eyebrows slightly at her comment, always taking Slytherin for those starting arguments, not diffusing them. "The Malfoys have always been stuck up rats who care about their worth and little else."

"I can agree to that one," Fred and George mumbled in unison, both taking a swig of their drinks.

"How did you guys meet (Y/N)?" Bill questioned, changing the subject quickly before anything could escalate.

"The same way anyone meets the twins," (Y/N) muttered sarcastically, and Harry let out a hum in an understanding manner.

"A prank, if the boys' history says anything," Ginny commented, hesitantly including herself into the conversation.

"You'd be quite right, little sis," George nodded, a boyish smile on his face, that reflected Fred's in almost every way. (Y/N) grinned up at her boyfriend and subtly laced their hands under the table.

"Georgie it's freezing up here!" (Y/N) whined as George tugged her up onto the roof of the burrow. He laughed softly and sat down, pulling her with him and wrapping the blanket he'd brought around them.

"I wanted some time with you away from my beyond crazy family," (Y/N) curled herself closer to her boyfriend, resting her head on his shoulder. He placed his head on top of her own, and she giggled as his long ginger hair blew in front of her nose.

"Your Mum and Dad are lovely. I don't think your siblings are too fond yet though," It was true, while George's parents, Fred and Bill had taken a liking to her, instantly softening when she was around, Percy, Ron and Ginny were still very stiff about her and her house.

"As I said, they'll come around. And anyway, who cares? You're the love of my life and I don't care about what house you're in," George turned his head to press a kiss to her forehead. (Y/N) let out a small sigh.

"I know I just... don't like the little biting comments. Or the glares. Reminds me too much of my house back at Hogwarts," George had been made aware of the comments a lot of Slytherin's made at Hogwarts, comments that only intensified when they had started dating.

"Do you want me to talk to them?" He asked sympathetically, running his hand up and down her arm.

"No, no, it's okay. They'll just have to get used to me," (Y/N) eventually said, after a long, pregnant pause. George slid his hand down to hers and squeezed it firmly.

"It'll be okay, I promise."

And it was. Granted, it took the remaining Weasley's a long time to trust (Y/N) but slowly, Ginny began talking to her more, Ron stopped blaming her for things and started to open up a bit more, though he was still very iffy with her and Percy, well, was still Percy. It's hard to tell whether he ever liked someone or not. Everything was going perfect, just the way George had promised.

Until Umbridge that is. It was their last year. The last year they could have fun at school before they left and joined the world of adulthood. But the second her toad-like, pink wool wearing face stepped in front of the great hall, they knew it wouldn't be so. All of a sudden, Defence Against the Dark Arts was changed, Quidditch was cancelled and an insane amount of stupid rules were brought into place. Including a rule stating that boys and girls must remain six inches apart. Of course, (Y/N) and George didn't listen, in the pure Weasley fashion.

George was the first to get a detention with Umbridge, though not for breaking the six-inch rule. Fred and George had pranked Snape and Umbridge, swapping the colours of their offices around entirely. Initially, they had expected to be cleaning Snape's cauldrons without magic, but they ended up coming out of detention with fresh wounds on the back of their hands. And livid couldn't even begin to describe how (Y/N) felt about what had happened.

"Georgie, what's wrong with your hand?" (Y/N) had asked as soon as he came back from his detention with a bandage wrapped around it.

"It's, uh, nothing. I don't want you to worry about it," George shrugged, putting his hands in his pocket with a wince. (Y/N), however, was having none of it, storming straight over to him and tenderly pulled his hands out of his pockets. (Y/N) began to unwrap his bandage. A soft gasp escaped her as she saw George's hand.

"' I must not disrespect or humiliate my teachers'?" (Y/N) read in a hushed voice "This is Umbridge, isn't it?" Her eyes narrowed and George knew what was about to happen. (Y/N) pushed past him, but he both grabbed her with his non-injured hand.

"(Y/N), I'm okay, just leave it alone," George reassured, pulling her back but she just shook her head angrily, folding her arms.

"No, George! I'm not letting that toad hurt my loved ones! Fred has the same thing, I'm guessing?" (Y/N) asked, giving him a look that just dared him to argue with her further. George sighed in defeat.

"Yes, yes he does. Love, I really wouldn't worry. If you tried to defy her you'd just get the same thing. I'm okay, Fred's okay. I promise," George gently tugged her forward and into a tight hug, resting his chin on her head. (Y/N) huffed against his chest.

"She hurt you and Fred, though, Georgie. She can't get away with this," She grumbled in annoyance. "She'll get what she deserves, definitely from me anyway."

Dinner in the great hall was quiet. Eerily so. It was never this quiet. Teachers were beginning to get fidgety at the lack of noise from the students. The Weasley twins were missing, as was Ron and (Y/N). The main causes of noise. Harry and Hermione couldn't help but wonder where most of the Weasley's had disappeared to. It wasn't uncommon for George and (Y/N) to miss dinner, or even Fred for that matter, but Ron never missed anything to do with food. The two doors to the great hall suddenly burst open and a red-faced Slytherin came charging in, with three Weasleys hot on her heels, trying to stop her. But nothing could stop her.

"You absolute toad! A rotten, little snake! How dare you?!" A few teachers stood up at the disturbance, but (Y/N) couldn't focus on them, all she could see was the pink toad she was pointing her finger at. Umbridge stood up and moved around the table to the front of the hall, a smug smile on her face. (Y/N) had nearly reached the front when the Weasley's finally managed to grab onto her, one hand on her one arm and two on the other.

"Miss (L/N), Mr Weasley's, what is the meaning of this?" Umbridge asked in her normal pompous voice. McGonagall moved around the table as well and stood in front of the students.

"That's enough, you four. Back to your tables," She ordered, and reluctantly, Ron and Fred moved back, but since (Y/N) had yet to move, George declared it not safe for him to move yet either. "Mr Weasley, Miss (L/N), now," Gradually, George and (Y/N) began to move back to their tables

"Not you, Miss (L/N)," Umbridge spoke, and she saw several of the teachers, Snape included shift uncomfortably. McGonagall squeezed her arm, knowing she no longer had control of the situation and walking back to the table. "I believe you require punishing, bursting in like that and disrupting our lovely meal."

"No, you listen here, you cockroach, you can do what you like to me, but you leave everyone here alone! You may be the headmistress of this school, but the use of a black quill is illegal! It's torture! And you've been using against students who defy you!" (Y/N) yelled, and students began whispering and the teachers exchanged looks of surprise and shock. George's foot was shaking under the table nervously and Ron and Ginny were gaping at her

"What nonsense," Umbridge commented simply, in her normal girlish manor. "I think you shall join me in detention, so you can see how wrong you are, tomorrow evening."

(Y/N) let out an indignant huff, glaring at her, knowing she could say little else. Malfoy let out a snicker, along with Crabbe and Goyle, and Snape shot them a glare.

"You're going to get what's coming to you," She mumbled, turning around and rushing back out, furiously stomping back to her common room, her fist hitting one of the walls on the way, splitting the skin of her knuckles.

"What the bloody hell happened back there?" Ginny requested as soon as she and her brothers had gotten back to the common room. Fred and George both flopped onto the couch as Ron sat down on one of the armchairs. Harry positioned himself on the floor between the twins and Ron.

"(Y/N), uh, she saw this," Ron lifted his hand to show them the cuts from his latest Umbridge detention "And she just lost it. Started shouting about how she was going to kill Umbridge, then she sprinted. We had to go after her, she was chuntering the entire away, we tried to stop her, George was trying to calm her down. She was bloody terrifying."

"I've never seen her that angry before," Fred stated, slightly shaken about it all, and mildly confused, his eyebrows furrowed. George shook his head slightly.

"Me either."

"Wait, you're telling me she got angry because Umbridge hurt Ron. Why would she care?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms.

"She's fiercely protective of the ones she loves. She'd die to protect them," George explained, rather harshly, disliking Hermione's tone.

"I thought she didn't like us," Ron murmured, slightly embarrassed.

"You're my family. Anyone important to me is important to her," George snapped back, narrowing his eyes a little, suddenly getting very protective. Ron and Ginny both went silent, awkwardly running their hands through their hair and looking away. Maybe (Y/N) wasn't as bad as they thought.

Not bad at all.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Harry Potter Tag list: @baseballbitch116​ @slytherinlovesgryffindor​

[marvel--queen]

Hear the Music || Armitage Hux || Part One

Fandom: Star Wars

Word Count: 1,441

Warnings: few swear words, thats like it i think?

Description: (Y/N) is a grey jedi who used to train under Luke Skywalker with Ben. After surviving Ben’s attack on the temple, they lived life successfully on the run from Kylo and the First Order, until Kylo finally found them and offered them a proposition. 

Masterlist

Hear the Music Masterlist

A/N: ahhhh im alive!! happy star wars day! i love this funky man named domhnall gleeson. this has been in my notes forever and i finally got the motivation to finish it. hoping to turn this into a series but we know how well i am at finishing things(hint: not well at all) please enjoy. more interaction with hux to come next part. also i’m trying to keep it as gender neutral as i can so everyone can enjoy it :) also any feedback y'all can give would be great, what did you like about it, what can i do different, what do you think will happen? i'm a sucker for attention

THIS IS NOT MY GIF. GIF CREDITS GOES TO THE OWNER(I tried searching for whoever made this gif but I couldn’t find it! If anyone knows please let me know so I can properly give credit)

--

You loved how free your life was. Sure sneaking past the First Order checkpoints aren’t ideal to freedom but the exhilaration of almost getting caught fuels you on. It reminds you of the time you and Ben would sneak out of your huts at night to have fun and be teenagers. Many nights spent by the flowing river as you used the force to chuck a multitude of stones at Ben or after you both crafted your own lightsabers, choreographing your own fight scenes, dancing around each other's glowing blades. But those moments were short-lived.

You wish you could say you were surprised when Ben snapped but that boy had so much pent up anger, it was bound to explode one way or another. You were lucky enough to escape with a few burns and a broken arm. Unfortunately, the majority of your peers weren’t as lucky. You had limped away from the scene, clutching your arm with tears burning in your eyes as you followed Ben with only anger set on your mind. Before you could get very far, Master Skywalker stopped you. And that was when you parted from the damaged temple. 

Traveling on your own was an adjustment. Fighting for your life just to live another day, it only furthered your ideal as a Grey Jedi. Even as a kid, you had issues seeing only a good side and a bad side and to this day, you refuse to believe there is only good or only bad. But now you’re free, free from the constant preaching of goodness and the blindness of the evil. You were finally at peace. 

But peace can only last so long. You should’ve known when you felt the shift in the force, that it was time to pack up and trek on, but you were stubborn. Which made your current position much more irritating. They came into your home at night, you fought the best you could with sleep clouding your mind but there were too many of them and you were just too tired. After years of successfully avoiding the First Order and Kylo Ren, your past caught up to you and it was time to hear the music. 

So there you laid, strapped to a First Order interrogation bed. You thought you’d be angrier when the time came but you just laid there, eyes closed, calm, waiting for the little shit to arrive so you could spit in his face. You could feel him in the area, following his footsteps in your mind until it stopped, in front of your door. 

You called out to him, with your mind, smirking, “How does it feel to finally successfully kill a master, Ben?”

The door whooshed open to show the angry face of your old friend. “Get out of my mind,” He childishly yelled, pointing a threatening finger at you.

“You’d think after so many years, you would finally grow up,” You challenged him with a raised eyebrow.

“Shut up!” He glared, “When were you this,” He struggled to find his words. “Infuriating?” You picked the word from his mind and he tried to push you out, to which you only laughed. “I was always stronger in the force than you, Ben.” “It’s Kylo,” Kylo narrowed his eyes at you angrily. “And yet here I am more powerful than you could ever be.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not calling you that childish name.”

“Then Supreme Leader,” He crossed his arms, “Which is why I searched for you. Join me.”

You choked on air and threw your head back laughing hysterically. This only enraged him even more, “Why are you laughing?! Join me, be my enforcer, my right hand. We can rule this galaxy together.”

“I-I’m sorry,” You laughed, raising your hand to your chest to control your breathing. You had released yourself from the restraints not too long ago. “But you want me to join you on the ‘Dark Side’” You made air quotes as you said “Dark Side” sarcastically. “This is priceless, but the answer is no.” You crossed your arms.

“Then you best get comfortable,” Kylo turned to leave but you weren’t content with his last word. 

You raised your arm and yank it to the side, slamming Kylo’s body against the walls and pinned him there. “You may have more power, but I’m still stronger, Ben.” You spat out as Kylo struggled against your force. “I was living a peaceful, free life and you, yet again, ruined it”

The door to the right of you swiftly opened and you reached out your right hand, ready to attack whoever entered. A pale man entered, head down looking at the datapad resting on his arm. 

“I don’t understan- oh?“ He started speaking before looking up, surprised but also smug to see Ren’s position. “As delighted I am to see someone best him, could you please release the Supreme Leader.”

You smiled at the General, taking note of his uniform, before turning to Kylo, “Ooh, I like this one,” You nodded your head to the man, before forcing Kylo to the ground and releasing him. You turned back to the General with a flirty smile, “Got a name, General?”

“Hux,” The man, you now know as General Hux, responded, amused with the interaction he’s witnessing. Behind you, Kylo stood up and brushed the dust off of his clothes, before charging to subdue you.

“General Hux,” You tested the name, tapping your chin, “Don’t tell me your first name is General.” You casually sent Kylo flying away from you as you teased the General. 

“Armitage,” He sent a fleeting look to Kylo as he flew and slumped on the floor, groaning. 

Your smile widened, “Nice to meet you, General Armitage Hux.” You lent your hand out for a handshake, which Hux accepted, eyes locked together. To the side of you both, Kylo braced himself against the wall before readying himself for another go at you. You rolled your eyes, excused yourself, and turned to Kylo with a glare, “Will you behave?! I’m trying to have a pleasant conversation with General Hux.” You turned back to Hux with a mysterious glint in your eyes, “You’d think he’d give up after so many failures, I’m sorry you had to deal with him for so long.”

Kylo’s face flushed red from anger at your jab. “General, you’re dismissed,” He sent a glare to you, "I’ll deal with the prisoner.”

Hux sent Kylo a side look before nodding, turning to leave. 

“Don’t be a stranger, General,” You tell him, shamelessly admiring his back profile, “I got a feeling I’ll be here for a while.” Hux turned briefly, catching you checking him out, only for you to send him a wink and Kylo to glare at the man to leave immediately. You watched him leave until the door closed. “Nice man,” You turn to Kylo with a grin. 

“Are you done?” Kylo deadpanned, unamused with your behavior. 

“Never,” You teased, pinching his cheek. He retaliated by smacking your hand and gripping your wrist hard. 

“This isn’t a fucking game,” He sneered through gritted teeth as he roughly released your wrist, to which you rubbed gingerly and glared at him. 

“Relax, Ben. If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done more than just toss you around the room. You’re too serious.” You hopped back onto the bed and looked at your old best friend, waiting for his next move.

After a beat of nothing, you rolled your eyes, leaning back onto your hands you placed behind you. “Honestly, now I see your appeal to the ‘Dark Side’” You shifted your weight to one hand to air quote “Dark Side”. “If all the men looked like that,” You whistled, eyes focused on the door the General left through. “Too bad, I don’t believe in the Dark Side. Doesn’t mean I can’t admire,” You smirked looking at Kylo as you swung your legs.

Kylo grimaced at your comments, “Do you ever shut up?” You smirked and opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off by raising his hand, “Never mind, don’t answer that.” He moved towards the door, opening it and looking at you, “Maybe some quiet will do you some good. Think about my offer.” 

He steps out of the room and before the door closes, you shout after him, “Please tell the General, he’s free to visit anytime!” 

Kylo flipped you off as he stormed down the hall. You giggle to yourself, pleased with everything that unfolded. Maybe your break at peace wouldn’t be so bad, especially after meeting that red-headed General you’re already fond of.

[vdragon-creations]

My OC Danganronpa Class

What up!

You’d think that after i did this shit for the MHA fandom, I would not do this shit to myself again! But you would be wrong! Oh so wrong, as I am an artist that likes to put myself through pain! An Artistic Masochist if you will!

Anyhow. Just like I did when I made my OC’s for the MHA Fandom, I may as well do so for the Danganronpa Fandom too! What could go wrong? Right? 

My Class of Danganronpa OC’s are made up of 16 Characters! (My Main OC included!) And here’s a list of their talents, gender, personality, and maybe a brief description of them (If I’ve come up with a look for them in my head yet!) I wanted to be as unique with this group as possible when it comes to talent sets, but I also like clichés and tropes and think theirs nothing wrong with them as long as they’re used well and in an interesting fashion! None of these OC’s have names yet, and again grammar is non existent here! So with that out of the way, Let’s begin!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Cosmetologist- Name: N/A Gender: Male (Was born Female) Personality: He is someone who looks for the beauty in all people, be it cosmetic or otherwise! He wants to use his talent to make others feel happy and comfortable in their own skin, to bring out that inner beauty! He himself had to struggle for many years to feel comfortable with who he was, and through his love for the cosmetic arts, he was able to do that! He’s a very confident individual, and becomes very upset when someone starts to become self-deprecating or he sees someone putting down others! He’s not ashamed of himself at all, and will become quite serious when someone puts two and two together when they find out he’s trans. A kind of “Yeah, that’s right! What of it?” attitude. He can be very eccentric and poetic when talking about the things he loves, this includes people!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Match Maker- Name: N/A Gender: Male Personality: If you took a Multi Shipper and mixed them with a flaming pervert, then you’d have this guy! Despite him being a absolute god when it comes to finding love for others, his own love life leaves much to be desired. As such, he’s always ALWAYS hitting on the girls he speaks too! Even the one’s he’s helping to find love! He’s a horndog, but one can’t deny the man’s talent at finding love for others! He has a nearly 98% Success rate when it comes to his pairings, and a little over half of those end with the pair getting married or being together of many years! He’s very perceptive and is a master at reading body language, which gives him an advantage when choosing partners for others! Deep within that perverted exterior he puts on though, is a genuinely sweet guy who cares for the happiness of those around him! Why would he do what he does otherwise!?

Highschool Level Ultimate: Tattoo Artist- Name: N/A Gender: Female Personality: At first glance, she doesn’t seem like much more then your average Gunge Goth Chick with a thing for looking tired and and just over it. But that the opposite of what she’s actually like, sure she still speaks in a mostly tired and deadpan voice, but she a pretty warm person! She friendly to most everyone she meets, her first question usually being something along the lines of “Yo! Got any Tats?”. She very interested in seeing the tattoos of others and learning their story through them! She’s very gifted at her craft, All of her clients being 100% satisfied with the tattoo’s she makes! When listening to what they want, she’s says it’s almost like she can see their memories as her own, and is able to create exactly what they want! She’s always very chill, and it’s hard to piss her off, but if you hurt a friend of hers, oh! You’re gunna be getting a very unpleasant tattoo from her! The only other thing she can’t stand is when someone mocks another's tattoo. That’s someone’s story and feeling’s put into visual form, and thus she’s very protective of that! She also really hates the term “Tramp Stamp”! Description: She’s a very short and petite young lady who’s always wearing a hoody with the hood over her head. Her hair is platinum blonde and wavy, it always sticking out of the hood on the sides of her face. She has Steel Blue eyes that have very dark rings around them, a mixture of heavy eyeliner and just lack of sleeps. She’s wearing ripped jeans most of the time and sneakers and most of the time, has a lollipop, toothpick, or cigarette in her mouth.

Highschool Level Ultimate: Radio DJ- Name: N/A Gender: Male Personality: Loud! Very Loud! That’s the first impression he gives everyone! And it couldn’t be more accurate! This dude is a party animal! A love for all things music! He’s constantly listening to all the latest hits from all types of music, and loves all of it! One would never guess though that this crazy fellow also has a more chill side! But if you listen to Station 75.9 after 10 P.M. you’ll notice that this guy has quite a calming voice! At night, he runs a late talk show from his dorm at Hope’s Peak for the student body! He plays soft music like Jazz or Classical during this time for those who have a hard time sleeping or just need something going on in the background while they study for the next big test! He also brings in guests like fellow classmates, members of staff, or those that work close with them to be on his late show to answer any questions that the other students can call in and ask on air! He believes that all things can be bettered by the power of music, and wants to do that for the whole world!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Journalist- Name: N/A Gender: Female Personality: This young lady has some serious guts! With a passion for the truth and the wit to get the best stories for the student body of Hope’s Peak! She wants so badly to be a reporter and will do the best damn job she can! She’s the first one on the scene to anything happening on campus, and no one is safe from her detective like eyes! She can be a bit accusatory at times and seems to get a little too worked up over her job, which can make her come off as bossy or insensitive. She flustered easily by things that confuse her! Mostly that’s things like Machines or Men! Which is way she mostly writes everything down by hand and mainly only talks to ladies, and when she has to talk to guys, she tends to try and get to the point quickly to avoid a long conversation. This is why she always has her classmate with her to help with these kinds of situations!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Assistant- Name: Naya Yuno (Called Ladybug by most of her classmates and close friends!) Gender: Female Personality: Think of the shyest person you know, and times that by a million! She incredibly nervous around others, especially men! This is due to her unfortunate talent! This girl can be told to do or help with just about anything, and she will do it flawlessly without much protest. Now, this has cause several problems for her with being taken advantage of by a good amount of people in the past, her parents included. She she has a general distrust in most people, causing her rampant shyness. But, she still want to be useful and do good things to help others! So she mainly fallows her classmate, the Ultimate Journalist around. She helps her with interviews despite her shyness, as due to her talent and her orders, she HAS to obey. And if she has to be alone to complete a task, she puts in ear plugs to keep herself from being told to do anything else. But despite her orders, there’s one particular little Hall Monitor that no matter what, if she’s asked to speak too, she freezes and can’t speak too with out turning into a blushing flustered mess. Description: She’s a short girl with a rather nice figure! She’s got a strong pair of legs, as she’s always running in halls back and forth to complete her tasks quickly without interruption. She has long black hair held in a low hanging ponytail, tied with a white fluffy ball-like tie, and pair of Golden Brown eyes. She’s always seen wearing a modified School uniform with a noticeably longer skirt then the other girls and a pair of glasses.

Highschool Level Ultimate: Cheerleader- Name: N/A Gender: Male Personality: If you turned a Golden Retriever Puppy into a human being, you’d have this guy! A literal ball of sunshine and all that is good in this world! This dude kicks ass at gymnastics, Dancing, and singing! Kinda important when  you’re a cheerleader! He grew up with his older sister who is a very Famous and talented Cheerleader for a Sports team. He loved seeing her dance and put smiles on everyone’s faces, getting everyone so hyped! And he wanted to be just like her! Only problem...he was a guy, and guys aren’t supposed to do girly things...right? His sister wasn’t having it! she told him how in other parts of the world, male cheerleading is absolutely a thing, and that it didn’t matter what others thought1 He should just be himself, and have fun! So that’s what her did! He’s a very hard worker and is all about putting a spring in people’s steps! He gets upset if someone bashes him for his interest and will take none too kindly to those who mock him! It just pushes him to do more! 

Highschool Level Ultimate: Empath (Main OC)- Name: N/A Gender: Female Personality: This woman is like an saint! She’s kind, Patient, Caring, and always going out of her way to help others when needed! She’s only firm when she needs to get the job done, but she’s always doing so with a smile! However, don’t push it, cause even though she looks like a pushover, She’s got a will of iron and a smack that can make even the toughest of men tear up a little. And she’ll deliver the blow with that same smile! She hardly get’s any sleep, as she’s always in a state of unrest! So despite her chipper look, she’s actually pretty tired. And who could blame her? Her talent not only makes her deal with the emotions of others round her, but her own anxieties too! She avoids touching people at all coasts, as part of her talent allows her to feel exactly what the other person does just by being around them, but if she touches them, the feeling is increased and can lead to her having nervous breakdowns or even going into shock. She has to e super relaxed in order for this not to happen, but seeing how she’s always on the move, that’s just never really possible. She has a bit of a wild side too! As she used to have a BF before Hope’s Peak who was a biker! She love to dance, sing, drink, and just generally have a bombass time. However, after his death, and her starting work and schooling, she just....didn’t have the time or heart to have that kind of fun again! Sometimes she’ll have a slip up, like letting out a cheer when something great happens, Gushing over her peers, or even a little playful flirting here and there with a certain Fortune Teller.

Highschool Level Ultimate: Farmer- Name: N/A Gender: Male Personality: He’s the classes big bear man! He’s a gentle giant with a heart of gold! He works hard, cares for his friends, and wants nothing but the best for those around him! Being a farmer, he knows everything about plants, Livestock, the earth, and how to take care of it! He acts like a big brother for his class as he is quite wise for his age! He’s the first one to put an end to an argument by trying to get everyone to relax and just talk out there differences! He hates violence, and don’t take too kindly to people wanting to hurt his friends! He’s pretty intimidating when he get’s angry, and that’s normally enough to keep folks who might try to cause trouble away. Description: He’s quite a tall and big looking guy! He’s got short light brown hair that’s messed up, and thick hair that pokes out of the top of the flannel shirt he wears and that grows along his forearms. He wears dirty overalls and a pair of large steal toed boots. He had a large straw hat as well but only puts it on while he’s working, most of the time it’s just hanging off of his neck on his back. He’s got a bit of stubble on his chin too!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Pilot- Name: N/A Gender: Male Personality: He’s quite a perky young man! But only when he works on his plane or flying! Most of the time, he looks tired or miserable. Needless to say he hates having his feet on the ground! He’s often daydreaming about flying or just laying in the grass just staring into the clouds. He’s friendly for the most part, but unless you talk to him about something related to flying, odds are he won’t pay much attention to you! Flying just seems to be the only thing that helps him focus on....well, pretty much anything. Despite his lack of attention to most things though, he’s VERY smart! Not only is he a pretty skilled mechanic, but the dude is quite the Linguist! The guy knows Japanese, English, Spanish, German, Russian, and Italian! The only reason his classmates know this about him, is because he starts talking in another language when he starts getting bored in a conversation. He might seem distant to most of his classmates, or anyone really, but he does have a love for people, it’s just hard for him to focus on them, when there is a big old sky just out their waiting to be explored!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Hypnotist- Name: N/A Gender: Male Personality: It’s a little hard to say much about his personality when the man refuses to talk unless he’s using his talent! According to him, his voice is hypnotic to all who hear it, so he refrains from speaking. He’s a mysterious fellow that’s for sure! Apparently, he’s even so good at what he does that not even he is immune to his own talent, o much so that he keep a blindfold over his eyes at all time, so that when he uses his pendulum, he doesn’t enter into a trance as well! He’s quite helpful though, as if his classmates ever need to relax or need a nap and can’t sleep, he’ll gladly use his talent on them! He’s also capable of brainwashing people doing this, however he himself refuses to use it to make someone do something that would cause them harm or humiliate them!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Fisherman- Name: N/A Gender: Male Personality: This dude is an....odd one to say the least. He’s always telling stories about Ghosts, Monsters, Alien, and other stuff that he claims to have seen while out on the water! He’s a hugely superstitious person and is quite gullible, but the guy means well! He’s very knowledgeable when it comes to many forms of aquatic life and even has a pet Axolotl, that he claims to have saved it from being eaten by a Bigfoot while on one of his fishing trips! He’s likes to give “Good Luck” charms to his classmates anytime they’re about to do something stressful. They humor him and take the charms, just so his feelings aren’t hurt, the poor guy is just trying to help after all!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Comedian- Name: Autumn Miwa Gender: Female Personality: A ball of literal joy and sunshine! It’s nearly unheard of to see this girl sad or angry! She’s The Ultimate Comedian after all, and laughter and smiles are her MO! Pranks, Standup, Skits, Silly Outfits, Dancing, Jokes, Tickle Fights, Impersonations, Songs! You name it, this girl will do it to make someone laugh or crack a smile! She’s always the first to want to cheer someone up who looks like they’re not feeling so hot. She loves the sound of laughs an cheers and she gets all giggly herself when someone else is happy too! He favorite people to make smile, are the ones who always seem a bit shy or who don’t talk often, hearing those people snicker or giggle is enough to make her so energized that she could power an entire city for weeks! This said, she does know her place, when a situation arises that needs to be handled delicately, she’s more then willing to set aside her need to make the person smile in favor of just being there to comfort and hold them! This girl loves PDA, and has no problem with hugging or holding hands with some stranger! She especially loves it when they get they get a little sheepish about it, she thinks it’s adorable! There’s actually a sweet little Robocutie that she loves going in for sneak attack hugs and tickles, he always has the best reactions! However, deep down underneath this happiness, this poor girl is hiding quite the shocking secret. She suffers from a incurable and life threatening illness that will most likely kill her before the end of her late 40's. So, for now, she just wants others to enjoy her company and remember her as she is now! It's better that way!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Seamstress- Name: N/A Gender: Female Personality: Basically everyone’s idea of a grandmother in the form of a sweet young girl! She very gentle and kind, and has a need to make everyone around her comfortable! Warm clothes, Soft Blankets, Cute Plushies! She makes it all! She also makes warm cookies, though that has less to do with her talent and more to do with her general love for sweets! Though, as sweet as she is, she is also quite clever and tactful, and isn’t above a little bit of blackmail to get people to do what she wants. This is only done to people she may not care much for of course!  She LOVES AESTHETICES!!!! She has a mood board, one for each of her classmates that she always references from when making them something!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Actor- Name: N/A Gender: Male Personality: This guy is as dramatic as they come! He’s quite the overreactor, and tends to get super emotional over the smallest things, good or bad! For example, he once openly “proposed” to a girl in the middle of the Dining Hall, just because she was kind enough to let him have the last Dinner Roll that was left at the buffet table. And the other time he started acting like he would be raining fire and brimstone on a guy just because he accidently clipped him on the shoulder while trying to walk past him! He can be really exhausting to be around but is kind enough! Though, he does have a bad habit of accidently insulting others while trying to give compliments. Most of the time, he can be found practicing his parts for plays and movies alone in the gym. He adores dramas and tragedies most of all, even though he is more then capable of doing over forms of acting. This guy is a master at reading people, which is what makes him so good of an actor, he can sense deception from a mile away! So he’s a pretty hard person to fool!

Highschool Level Ultimate: Meteorologist- Name: N/A Gender: Female Personality: A small chucky lady who’s a sweet as candy! She’s a super smart young lady who loves the weather! She spends a lot of her free time collecting weather data and helping the folks in the greenhouse and gardens by giving them her findings so they can better their crops and protect them if needed. She has a fondness for rainy weather, but more so if it’s still sunny out while it’s raining! I has a huge obsession with Rainbows and Tornados, in fact one of her biggest dreams in life is to go on a real Storm Chase one day! Truly an adventurous young lady!

[aforgottenballad]

Feelings on Sally Face Episode 5

Under a read more for obvious reasons, includes heavy spoilers and potentially triggering subjects. 

Disclaimer: I might miss-remember some parts of the story or have missed a piece of lore that would settle minor complaints. I am however disappointed in the ending as a whole and in some of the very harmful tropes included in it. But I’m also just some dude online with an opinion, and you can stop reading at any time. 

Rant under cut. 

Alright ya’ll. I’ve had a couple days to digest the ending to Sally Face.  While playing, I genuinely enjoyed some elements of the game. The chapter started on a dark but nearly hopeful note. Neil and Ash were still working to bring the cult down. It seemed likely Sal would be resurrected. Todd had apparently escaped the hospital, and that had potential to be either a very very good or very very bad thing. Maple was possessed by whatever fucked up the souls of the other apartment tenants, but hey! At least her and Neil weren’t in on the cult like so many fans predicted. Unfortunately, this series has a way of getting darker and darker as it progresses.  First thing that bugged me was the lore drop about how the cult was founded.  A Native American tribe. Right. Because why wouldn’t Indigenous peoples be in a story without being part of some mystical occult backstory, portrayed as mysterious historical props who worshiped something dark and evil instead of being portrayed as human beings. 

But I continued. I really enjoyed playing as Ashley and getting some insight into her character. I enjoyed the task of planting the C4 in the temple... catacomb... thing. We get to see Travis again! I was excited that a lot of us were right about him being indoctrinated but also working to fight the cult from the inside. We knew he had some good in him after all. 

When Ash tries to resurrect Sal, we get even more insight into her character, and unfortunately a lot of it is “Grieving, distraught, and full of self-blame”. I want to hug her.  Sal’s spirit is apparently revived by those pyramids, and he can dimension warp. We meet Jim, or what’s left of him, and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything anymore but agrees to help Sal anyway. This is, narratively speaking, weird as hell. His entire character arc for four episodes was “Loved his family so much he sacrificed himself to save them”, and suddenly he’s just some glowy dude attached to Magic Spirit Tubes who doesn’t give half a shit. I guess it makes sense as a way to wrap up why he’s been able to drift between worlds but... if he doesn’t care about any of that anymore why help Sal? And what about Rosenberg? Is she like Jim, or do we just have to assume she’s magical because her family helped found the cult? (Explained in an easter egg later on, because this game doesn’t just drop its lore. Not even the CRUCIAL lore. You have to achievement hunt for it.) Sal can enter various doors in the House In The Void to step into alternate realities, and this was my favorite aspect of the game. Each door has a different art style, and I really liked seeing these alternate realities. Steve probably worked the hardest and longest on drawing out and coding these scenes. I genuinely applaud the man for the work put into this endeavor I’m assuming all by himself. 

Meanwhile, Ash tries to unbind Larry’s soul from the tree house he died in, which doesn’t work. Did we ever find out why his body was never found? No? Ok that seems important.

After each puzzle, Sal’s body is restored a little bit at a time, but even after turning on all the pyramids and solving the mysteries behind all three doors, he can’t make it back to the “real” world. So Ashley kills herself. Or tries to. Because apparently that’s the only way to complete the ritual, and also because she feels really bad about not unbinding Larry’s soul and about not fixing Sal. Again, I want to hug her, but I have to watch her hurt herself instead, cause Steve doesn’t let us have nice things.

Okay, so this is a gorey game. We know. But one of the BIGGEST no-nos suicide prevention networks will tell you when consulting them about mental illness and suicide in media is NOT to show a graphic suicide in progress. Steve is aware a lot of his fans are A) Young teens to young adults B) Struggling with mental illness. 

His main character suffers from depression and anxiety and this fact has resonated with hundreds of fans. It’s irresponsible to purposefully include a graphic suicide attempt, but he did it last chapter, showing a gunshot suicide’s aftermath, then he did it again with Ashley. Call me a wiener if you like, point out the graphic scenes from earlier in the game and call me a hypocrite for not being upset by that, but you have to admit the Spongebob-close-up-shot look to those scenes have a totally different feel. Speaking as someone who actually has a pretty thick skin, but is concerned about the fans who might be in a worse place or who could be as young as 12, that was fucked up. 

Anyway, Ash’s attempt doesn’t take, because she’s struck by magic lightning, which infuses Sal’s soul into her. Now her arm is one of those stretchy sticky hands, but with bio luminescence and the ability to kick cultist ass. I actually thought this part was really cool, and was super ready to go on a cultist smacking spree. But again, we can’t have nice things and before we get to do anything badass we have to look at gruesome imagery again. 

You get to see Void Larry, who is now old and a wizard or something, but first...

Surprise! Maple and Neil are dead! Not just dead, but hung up from hooks covered in blood! And naked! 

Hey?? Hey Steve????? You know how they’re both POC?? And that lynching imagery is EXTREMELY NOT GOOD?!!????

“Two white people are hung up with them” YEAH? WELL WE’VE NEVER SEEN THOSE CHARACTERS BEFORE. THEY’RE JUST RANDOM PEOPLE.

I’ve seen people arguing “The white characters go through terrible things too” but it’s still really fucked up that by the end of the game, every. Single. Person of color. In the game. Has died. Gruesomely. It’s a gorey, dark, bleak game, and white characters die as well, gruesomely; but not all of them. None of them that are named are shown strung up, naked. That’s fucked up. That isn’t okay. 

There are also a total of three gay characters in this game. One is Todd, who goes through the standard “bad bad stuff” the game is used to, is the white one, and he survives. One is Neil, one of the aforementioned people of color who died horribly and who only really existed to be Todd’s boyfriend and therefore a source of angst for Todd when he dies. The third is Travis, another man of color, and an abuse victim, who dies to fulfill his character arc as an abuse victim, which is also really shitty to see over and over again as an abuse survivor. 

Look, I know Steve pulled a lot of inspiration from old TV shows and horror series that probably weren’t all “politically correct”. I know it’s always been kind of an edgy and dark game. I know Steve probably didn’t think about the repercussions of all his narrative choices. But I also know he actively ignored some people offering to educate him on issues he has no experience with. I know he worked hard on this game, by himself, but we as fans have paid him and waited for years and it isn’t selfish or ungrateful to be hurt and disappointed. He knows his audience is diverse, he knows a lot of us were attracted to the game because of a gender nonconforming main character, a main character who struggles with mental illness, a cast that isn’t 100% white and conventionally attractive. Of course he didn’t need to change the plot for us! It’s his game, his vision, but the least he could have done is research how to not actively hurt and alienate a good portion of us.  I don’t think anyone is bad or racist for still finding solace in the characters and in what the story was before this, I’m not attacking you personally, whoever is reading this. I, personally, still have loads of Sally Face art in my queue, I still have active role plays going on, my Sal wig is sitting like 8 feet away waiting for the next time my friends want to take cosplay pictures. I still enjoyed playing the game for the most part. Without this game I wouldn’t even know most of my current friends. It’s just really shitty how it ended like this, and a lot of people I talk to daily either feel too sick to even talk about the game anymore after seeing people like them treated like trash by the narrative or try to focus on the good things they got out of just being part of the fandom but don’t feel comfortable supporting the developer anymore. 

Even if there wasn’t all these hurtful tropes packed into the game, and yes, even after unlocking the epilogue, the game just feels cold. It feels rushed, probably because of how much time went into the alternate dimension gimmick. I wish Steve had at least consulted people over the script. It felt like not only did he pour all his work into experimenting with the mixed media, he also just took whatever expectations the fans had and went somewhere completely different just to have his story be “unpredictable”. That isn’t always a good thing. Plot twists, downer endings, dark and scary imagery, all of these things can be done beautifully, but in this case it felt like he just wanted the series to end. The game didn’t subvert expectations, it fed into the harmful stereotypes and tropes all the fans were so hopeful it wouldn’t. 

...On top of not making any sense unless you’re able to 100% all the puzzles. And even when you do, it feels like all the bad stuff happened for no reason. The ending doesn’t conclude anything. Even when you unlock the epilogue, all it tells you is that a third of the world has died and that the main cast haven’t accomplished much besides “Trying to help”. Sal and Todd have powers now, but that isn’t elaborated on much. Larry’s spirit is missing, if he even exists in any plane at all anymore. It doesn’t even mention what’s going on with Ash.  It just feels like nothing mattered. 

[thequeerwitch]

First fanfic: Charlotte Russo: The Lost Angel of Empire Bay (Vito Scaletta x OC)  Introduction

Hey everyone, thanks so much for the support I’ve received with my transition to this blog. It’s time that I post my first fanfic to this blog. This story will follow a character from a fandom that’s not very well known, but deserves to be recognized, nonetheless. Vito Scaletta from Mafia 2 & 3. I played Mafia 3 first and absolutely fell in love with Vito, so I decided to play Mafia 2 as well. I can’t tell you which one I like better, I love them both equally. I highly recommend everyone who loves open world GTA-type games to play this game. It’s funny, action packed, emotional at times, and filled with plenty of colorful characters. Players be warned, however, that the game is rated M and deals with mature themes such as drug use, sex, cursing, violence, basically anything you’d expect from a GTA/Godfather mashup. Keep in mind that the fanfic will also be of a similar rating, though I will provide a trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter, as well as a word count and a general rating of each story. Alright, enough chit-chat. I’d like to introduce you to the OC of the evening: Charlotte Russo.

Charlotte Russo: Mafia 2

Charlotte Russo: The Blissful Angel 

Charlotte Russo: Mafia 3

Basic Stats:

Name: Charlotte Russo, “Big Tits” Charlie Alfonsi

Age: 19 (beginning), 42 (near the end)

Sex/Gender/Pronouns: Female, Woman, she/her

Race/Ethnicity: Italian

Fandom: Mafia

Background: Charlotte’s family emigrated from Sicily to Empire Bay in 1927 when her mother was pregnant with her.  Marco began working for Frank Vinci and built up a reasonable living. He planned to will his eldest daughter, Alessandra, the business, but she married and moved away as soon as she could. Charlotte became her father’s golden child, the one who would carry on the legacy and see the business out. When Charlotte was eighteen, her father was involved in a risky hit and was killed in the process. Don Frank Vinci severed ties with the family, but provided a certain amount of protection for them to survive off of until they got back on their feet. In the meantime, Charlotte scrambled to get a steady job and keep food on the table, electricity on in their tiny apartment, and a roof over their heads.

Appearance:

Figure/Eyes/Skin/Hair/Other: Charlotte has a thick, pair shaped figure with an average bust and full hips. She has tawny eyes, olive skin, and charcoal black hair with bangs across her forehead, full lips, a freckle on her cheek, and a scar cutting down the bridge of her nose.

Dress style: She typically dresses comfortably, but appropriate for her job. What that job is often varies from a dancer in a cathouse (lingerie) to running hits on the streets for her boss (jeans and a blouse).

Relationships:

Parents: Marco and Gianna Russo. Charlotte was always a daddy’s girl. She picked up much from her father including her strength, fighting skills, and her taste for fancy cigars. The death of her father tore Charlotte up, it was hard for her to think of much else for a while afterwards, but she was forced to keep moving to keep money coming in. Her mother isn’t exactly the same story. Charlotte picked up cooking and cleaning skills, many things that would make a good housewife, but she was never drawn to that path. She preferred the life of crime and action, like her father. Gianna didn’t take her husband’s death well. She started drinking to wash away the pain, but she wasn’t a happy drunk. When she was drunk, everything came out. Secrets, insults, truths that no one wants to hear, and a side of Gianni that she would be ashamed of sober. Charlotte’s relationship with Gianni was never great, they always fought over Charlotte’s future and wellbeing, which would drive a wedge between the two in their final years of communication.

Siblings: Alessandra Russo-Lombardi was ten years old when Charlotte was born. At the ripe, young age of 21, Alessandra married her high school sweetheart and moved far away from Empire Bay. She still maintains a good relationship with Charlotte, calling every couple of months to check in, but is mostly estranged from the rest of her family.

Love interest(s): Vito Scaletta, the mysterious man who saved her life and took her under his wing to show the ways of casual crime.

Friends: Margaret Young, a close friend and neighbor since Charlotte could remember. Their mothers were both stay at home moms, and her father owned a small bakery below Charlotte’s apartment. The two worked together between cathouses and department stores, and their bond often felt more like sisters than friends. Joe Barbaro was a friend of Vito who helped introduce Charlotte into the crime world. Matteo Ricci was a young man who Charlotte saves at some point in the story, and for her charity, Matteo sets out to repay her by giving back to the world in some way. Ronnie Espinoza, the only friend Charlotte has to depend on when she is at her lowest. More on him in the fic.

Enemies: Sidney “The Fat Man” Penn was an ex-boss of Charlotte, Lorenzo Alfonsi was Charlotte’s ex-husband from a loveless marriage, and Sal Marcano attempted to work with Charlotte under impossible terms and set out to have her killed when she didn’t agree to them. More on all of them in the story.

Sexuality and Romance:

Sexuality: Pansexual

Attraction: Charlotte was a butt person. She loved a nice, plump ass on men and women that she could pinch or smack during intercourse.

Experience: Charlotte experimented a little before finding Vito. She had a steady boyfriend for about a year before she found out he cheated on her, and a girlfriend who moved away and never contacted her again.

Skills and Work Life:

Skills: Charlotte learned how to take care of a house and a child from her mother, skills she retained her whole life. She learned how to defend herself and handle a knife from her father, and she learned how to drive and shoot a gun from Vito. Charlotte always had a knack for performance. She loved to sing, dance, and act both in public and private.

Hobbies: In her downtime, Charlotte loved to read, and secretly enjoyed to sew. She always wanted to be a seamstress as a child, a dream she secretly retained through her adult life.

Education: Charlotte had a middle school education, but was forced to drop out when her family couldn’t afford it anymore. She knows how to speak English and Italian.

Job: Dancer in a cathouse, made woman under Alberto Clemente, seamstress.

Personal:

Theme Songs: Troublemaker by Olly Murs, Bottom of the River by Delta Rae

Personality: Charlotte was a family girl, always taking steps to protect her team over herself. She liked to develop a first name basis with everyone she worked with to show a form of mutual respect. She was a tough cookie, but she managed to keep her emotions in check pretty well. It took a lot to break her, but when you do, be prepared. Her anger was scary, and her sadness usually results

Likes: Cars, clothes, jewelry, classic literature, jazz music, dancing

Dislikes: Not getting her way, cucumbers, liars, cheaters,

Philosophy:

Colors: Blue, purple, red, black

Beliefs/Spirituality: She grew up Catholic and retains general Christian beliefs, but she’s not a very good Christian. 

Fears: Death, dogs, wasps, knives, betrayal

Goals: To get out of Empire Bay, to survive in the mafia world, to become rich enough and settle down with Vito, other goals revealed in the fic.

Other

The titles of the chapters are lyrics from songs I associate with major scenes throughout the chapter. I’ll release the soundtrack after I finish the story as there will be some major spoilers within the soundtrack. 

Each chapter will be pretty long, around 6000 words each. 

I used this avatar creator to design them Charlotte’s avatars: http://www.azaleasdolls.com/dressupgames/1940s-fashion.php 

As Charlotte was present for many events from Mafia 2, the story is written as a documentary, titled “Charlotte Russo: The Lost Angel of Empire Bay.” I did this so I wouldn’t have to recap events from the game that just had Charlotte shoehorned in. Thus the story is split into different narrative styles. The narrative of the story will follow a similar structure as Mafia 3, told through flashbacks and interviews like a documentary. The formatting for each POV will look different, so I'll provide a key here to explain it.

Documentary narration

"Interviews" —Person's Name

Time period

Charlotte’s narration

The investigator of the documentary is going to be Jonathan Maguire from Mafia 3. I know he was only investigating the Lincoln Clay files, but I’m gonna level with you guys, I’m too lazy to make my own. :P 

Charlotte's narration

[milkierways]

Whatever You Say

Word Count: 1850

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Request(s): “Hey!!! I love Poe and ur account!!! So I was wondering if I could maybe get a Poe x reader where the reader hates Poe cuz he’s stuck up but gets to know him a bit better and starts to love him as well and gets really confused and angry? Its OK if no, but thanks!” - @nerdyemocrap

Warning(s): None (If I need to add some, let me know!)

I changed up the request just a tad bit amigo, hope you don’t mind! I really like how this turned out and my aim is for you to feel the same. <3

If one thing was true, it was that you hated Poe Dameron. At least, that’s what you wanted people to think. It’s what you wanted everyone else to think, too. Everybody seemed to love him, with his irresistible charm and striking good looks. Your teammates liked to tease you about him being the perfect poster boy for the rebellion.

Yeah, the poster child for why no one should ever procreate, you’d think.

You despised the way he would feign humility when all he did was gloat, the way he’d walk into a room and immediately grab all the attention without even saying a word, the way he’d always grin at you with that award-winning smile. He made you want to punch a wall out of anger. Or that’s what you told yourself

More than once, he’d stolen your thunder, took the shot for you, swooped in and saved the day without being asked to. And, Maker, was he reckless. It seemed as if he never considered anyone else’s safety when in the air, it was all about him. That wasn’t something you had to lie to yourself about, though.

What made everything worse, was the fact that Poe Dameron actually made attempts to befriend you. Non-stop.

He’d walk up to you and start a conversation while you tried to fix your ship, or when you were eating dinner, or when you were in the command centre. It was like a never-ending barrage of Poe, Poe, Poe, and more Poe. Deep down, you didn’t mind it, but that didn’t mean you had to let everyone know.

“Hey (Y/N),” he walked up with a smirk as if he knew how much you didn’t like him and had decided to pester you anyway. “How’s my favourite pilot doing today?”

You scoffed. “I’m pretty sure you’re your own favourite pilot, Dameron.”

He chuckled and nodded, “I see you’re continuing the salty facade, as usual.”

You reached around for your wrench, climbing up onto the wing of your ship to tighten a couple loose panels that could cause unbalanced flight if you weren’t careful. You groaned when you realised you’d grabbed the wrong size for the bolts you were using. You glanced down to see Poe holding up the right one.

“Needing something?” He asked, smugly. You scowled, reaching down and attempted to snatch the tool from his hand. He pulled back so you couldn’t reach, tutting his tongue against the roof of his mouth to make a clicking noise.

“C’mon, Dameron, give me that,” you snapped angrily. He smiled innocently up at you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, (Y/N),” he beamed toothily. You were about ready to leap down and smack that grin right off of him.

“Poe, now,” you demanded. His eyes held a sparkling glint as an idea struck him.

“On one condition,” he started. You rolled your eyes, sitting back on your heels.

“What?” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“You sit with me at dinner tonight,” he volunteered. You laughed aloud.

“In your dreams, flyboy,” you retorted, amused. He wasn’t kidding though.

“Alright, well, you can say goodbye to your tools then. I know a mechanic who could really use a new set right about now, and these all look perfect,” he teased, spinning his finger around your tool bag thoughtfully. You glared daggers at him.

“Fine,” you mumbled through gritted teeth.

“What was that?” He asked, his hand resting in the air above your bag.

“Fine, I’ll have dinner with you tonight,” you said louder. A smile broke out on his face, causing your face to heat up. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t like it. It was embarrassing.

“Perfect. I’ll meet you in the cantina later, then,” he said, reaching up to hand you the tool you needed. You frowned and watched as he sauntered away, success filling his gait with happiness while you were left defeated.

You huffed in annoyance as he finally disappeared from the hangar, leaving you to work on your X-wing.

“(Y/N)! Over here!” A voice called over the incessant chatter of the cantina. You glanced over to see Poe waving you down. You shot a desperate look over at your friend, begging them to pull you away, but all they did was push you closer to his table. You sighed, slowly treading over and slouching down on the stool.

“Good evening, sunshine,” he greeted with a smile. You nodded your hellos. Poe wasted no time in introducing you to the rest of Black Squadron. You sent them all a curt smile and quickly bit into your bread, trying your hardest to avoid speaking.

Soon enough, Poe became engrossed in a conversation with Snap, leaving you and Jessika to yourselves.

“He likes you, you know,” Jessika started. You shot her a confused glance. “He talks about you constantly. Heard many good things about you.”

“No, not from Poe you haven’t,” you laughed. Now it was Jessika’s turn to be dumbfounded.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been nothing but rude to him since we first met,” you explained. “But, I have a good reason.”

“No, no, I understand why. He’s a douche at times,” Jess smiled, taking a bite out of her own meal.

There was another awkward silence before she spoke again.

“He says you’re a good pilot, but he’d rather you be on the ground,” she said through a mouthful of food. Anger flared up inside you, the thought of him wanting you grounded causing your ears to turn red.

“Oh yeah?” You asked through gritted teeth. Jess swallowed hard to get her food down.

“Wait, not like that, he isn’t trying to say that he wants to keep you down or anything. He just knows you’re a skilled mechanic and he thinks being on base is safer than in the air,” Jessika was quick to defend him, noticing your change in attitude.

Just as soon as it had arrived, your anger subsided, leaving you wondering why in the Maker’s good galaxy would Poe Dameron want you safe on base. Before you could ask why your conversation was interrupted.

“Hey, (Y/N), did Poe ever tell you about the time he tried to ride a Runyip back on Yavin IV?” Snap laughed loudly, a smile lighting up his face. You glanced over at Poe whose face was red as a berry. Obviously, it was an embarrassing story, causing you to want to learn more.

“No, in fact, he hasn’t,” you grinned smugly over at him as Snap began to go into the storytelling zone, spilling every humiliating detail. You stared straight at Poe for the entire duration of the narrative, relishing in how miserable the cocky pilot looked. You don’t remember all of the tale, but you know it ended with a broken arm and a long lecture from Poe’s father.

Truly a tale to tell the grandchildren, you thought.

Wait, why were you thinking about grandchildren? That implied actually having kids of your own. And with Poe no less. You almost shuddered, glad you caught the error of your ways before you said something you’d regret.

After a night full of more stories, ranging from battles to childhood shenanigans, the Black Squadron decided to head to the hay for the night. You would have gone back to your quarters too if Poe hadn’t asked for you to accompany him on a nighttime stroll around the base

You almost declined, but the look of hope on his face prevented you from doing so. Thinking back on it, you wondered what the kriff had gotten into you. You’d never been affected by him before, so why now? What was happening to you? Were you actually starting to let yourself like him? Once again, you pushed away the thought. No way, no how, would you ever enjoy the presence of Poe Dameron, the most stuck-up pilot the Resistance had to offer. It wasn’t a smart thing to do in any way, shape, or form.

“So, am I ever going to get an explanation as to why you hate me so much?” He asked after a few moments of walking. His words froze you to the core, causing you to stop in your tracks. The truth was, you didn’t hate him. Not really. You just wanted to, oh so badly. But that didn’t mean you really truly hated him. He might be an annoyance, yes, but never someone you hated, no matter what you told yourself. You opened your mouth to answer him, but he cut you off. “Because, to me, it really doesn’t seem like you dislike me as much as you claim to. In fact, I’d say that you actually really like me. You just refuse to admit it.”

There it was, that snarky Poe Dameron that you knew all too well. The one that made your blood boil in your veins. “Maybe it’s because you make comments like that that makes me hate you,” you sneered.

“What? I’m just stating the obvious truth, (Y/N),” he defended.

“Whatever you say, prince charming,” you grumbled under your breath.

“I have a proposal for you,” he said. You rolled your eyes but let him continue. “I bet that I can make you fall for me in a month’s time.”

“Oh? And if you don’t?” You interrogated. He smiled.

“Then you get to humiliate me in any way you see fit,” he suggested. An evil grin spread across your lips, a glint in your eye.

“Alright, if you can’t get me to fall for you, then you get to run a lap around base soaking wet and in your underwear. And I get to record it.”

The colour drained from Poe’s cheeks a little, but he nodded and outstretched his hand. “If I win the bet, you get to go on a date with me.”

You swallowed and reached your hand out to shake his. “Deal.”

Poe grinned again, making your stomach flutter for some unknown reason. You frowned as he stepped closer and pressed a kiss to your cheek, making you blush like crazy. “I’ll see you later then, (Y/N).”

Oh, this was going to be hard.

[jcmorrigan]

A Good Listener

Well, it happened. I wanted to write a oneshot for my current shipping poison. And, as usual, the fic took over and wrote itself. I snooped around, and either ff.net doesn’t have an archive for the Netflixverse of ASOUE or I couldn’t find it, and this is most DEFINITELY Netflixverse and not bookverse (though it contains bookverse elements and some mild spoilers for the bookverse and presumably things that have not yet been filmed for Netflixverse). So you’re getting this uploaded right to Tumblr.

Title: A Good Listener

Fandom/Verse: A Series of Unfortunate Events, Netflix series

Pairing: The Hook-Handed Man x The Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender

Rating: PG (swearing, small animal death, nothing actually steamy but implications that there may one day be steam - not quite T but not quite K+ either)

General notes: The Hook-Handed Man will be referred to by his bookverse canon name (so beware of spoilers in the FIRST PARAGRAPH). All the rest of Count Olaf’s associates will be referred to by names I came up with and assigned to them and should not be taken as canon or even popular fanon (though believe me, I’d be flattered if they were referred to by these names elsewhere). Fic assumes Grim Grotto and the revelations within will be played close to the books. 

(Also mad props to @gavillain for story advice and fine-tuning. I don’t even know where my writing would be without you, man.)

STORY UNDER THE CUT HERE GOES

If you asked Fernald what his best qualities were, he would not have thought of himself as an exceptionally good listener. He would instead have cited his acting talent (not entirely accurate) or his skill doing various criminal acts as required by Count Olaf (though with perhaps a twinge of doubt on his own part). In order to save face, he might have even claimed he was excellent at figuring out how to operate machinery such as telephones on the first try. This claim would have been entirely false and would have fooled absolutely no one.

           If you asked a certain other member of Count Olaf’s entourage what Fernald’s best qualities were, however, the first thing they would say was that he listens. He was, in fact, the only person that ever really seemed to listen to them.

           Before the Baudelaire children ever came into the life of Count Olaf and when his nefarious schemes were directed toward other matters than their fortune, he and his troupe were based out of a theatre of somewhat good repute located in the arts district of the city. As it turned out, running a theatre and performing shows of dubious quality was an excellent front for criminal activity ranging from arson to petty thievery to actively trying to undermine the largest secret organization dedicated to justice in the known world. Olaf had filled his theater with what he believed to be like-minded people: the bald man Bolton, the white-faced twins Charlotte and Emily, and Fernald, the one who would often come to be referred to as the “hook-handed man” after a gruesome incident best not detailed within this tale.

           Fernald was a rather exceptional case, as he himself had previously been affiliated with the very organization that Olaf had cursed and spit upon. The great schism had brought him to the conclusion that he was far more suited to setting fires than dousing them, and he had resolved never to look back. This didn’t mean he was exceptional at not looking back at all. Some things he had left behind refused to stay in the past, at least in his memory. Some days, he wished he could set fire to thoughts in order to prevent them from ever coming back to haunt him. Olaf, of course, had seen his prior involvements as an asset; a peek into the enemy’s defenses, so to speak. Olaf was a cruel master, but one with whom Fernald felt like he was on the right track.

           He was attached to his teammates as well. Bolton was difficult to get along with at first, but the two of them had found common ground to bond over after some time. Charlotte and Emily, he could never keep a good handle on which was which, but they didn’t mind Fernald calling each by the other’s name so long as he participated in their gossip sessions. Much to Olaf’s annoyance, when the four weren’t involved in a scheme or rehearsing for a masterpiece by “Al Funcoot,” they could often be found playing cards backstage, with the inevitable result that Fernald would lose.

           That was exactly what they were doing, making a point to ignore Olaf, on the day that they heard him step onstage with an unfamiliar voice accompanying him.

           “Who’s he talking to?” Fernald muttered so as not to be heard by Olaf.

           “Dunno,” Bolton replied. “Should we check it out?”

           “It might be a new associate,” Emily theorized.

           “Or maybe an enemy he’s luring into our clutches,” Charlotte suggested quietly.

           “Or a critic who saw our latest show,” Bolton added.

           “Critics actually watch our shows?” Fernald said in disbelief.

           The cards were abandoned and all four villainous associates gathered in the wings to spy on Olaf and the stranger: a tall, auburn-headed person who seemed to be reacting to Olaf’s exposition with apathy.

           “Wow,” Fernald whispered. “She’s beautiful.”

           “She?” Bolton whispered back. “That’s a man.”

           “It’s rather hard to tell from this angle,” Charlotte commented.

           “ – And, of course, you’ll have to meet the rest of them,” Olaf was saying. “They’re all idiots, of course, but they get the job done. Which is really all I’m asking of you. OHHH, HENCHPEOPLE!” Olaf clapped loudly to summon his associates.

           Fernald, Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily waited a moment before appearing so as not to give away how closely they’d been watching. “Yeah, boss?” Fernald spoke up, leading the group.

           “I would like to introduce you all to your new associate,” Olaf said dramatically, stepping out in front of the newcomer and gesturing toward them for the group’s benefit. “Avery Orson.”

           “Actually, it’s Ainsley Orlando,” the newcomer corrected in a rather monotone voice that made Bolton suddenly far more sure of his conclusion.

           “Whatever,” Olaf huffed, rolling his eyes. “Avery – “

           “Ainsley…”

           “Will be joining us for all our plots henceforth,” Olaf went on, “as a steadfast ally against those well-read do-gooders.”

           “V.F.D. looks pretty good on paper,” Ainsley stated, “but I’ve become pretty disillusioned with their exclusionary nature and literary elitism.”

           “So, basically, play nice,” Olaf commanded. “Also, Avery – “

           “Ainsley…”

           “ – is part of the theater side of the troupe as well, so hopefully, the Daily Punctilio should be a little nicer to us now that we have fresh talent,” Olaf concluded.

           “So, uh…” Bolton broke in, “you are a guy, right?”

           Fernald smacked one of his hooks against Bolton’s upper arm for that. Fernald, of course, was curious as well, but he wasn’t about to ask a new associate something that rudely.

           “Actually, neither of the binary genders accurately represents me,” Ainsley stated casually, “so if you could all use ‘they’ and ‘their’ pronouns when you refer to me, that’d be great.”

           It was a simple enough request, but one that Bolton would outright ignore over the next month, opting to still refer to Ainsley as “he” and “him.”

           “Well, Ainsley,” Fernald said, stepping forth, “welcome to the – “

           He had extended his right arm before he remembered. Withdrawing the hook, he just gave a shrug. “Team.”

           Ainsley’s eyes followed the hook, noticing the matching one on the other arm. They became incredibly curious, then, about what had happened to put Fernald in such a condition. But they, much like Fernald, weren’t about to simply put a new teammate on the spot.

           There are many things that can bring people closer together. Collaborative art projects, shared meals, fighting together against a greater evil, book clubs, classes in special interests, theatre, and assorted villainy, to name a few. Ainsley’s bonds with Fernald, Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily were forged mostly through use of the latter two.

           Olaf remained ever the leader, and often times it was hard to tell whether he was proud of the team he’d assembled or whether they made him regret most life decisions that led up to his leadership of them.

           When the Baudelaires came into their lives, it gave them all almost a sense of renewed purpose. The parents of Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were quite hated among the troupe, either through reputation or personal experience, and their passing was not mourned. And now that Olaf had his sights set on obtaining their wealth, the others found themselves onboard a fast-moving train of plotting and scheming that was much more interesting than their pre-Baudelaire days.

           However, Olaf’s initial dealings with the children prompted several absences from the theatre, leaving the other five to their own devices and not much to do other than rehearse the “Al Funcoot” piece known as “The Handsomest Zookeeper.” This was extremely hard to do when the man who had insisted upon casting himself in the titular role was absent, but the others made do by propping up a broom and draping a suit over it, pretending it was Olaf.

           “So when do you think we get to meet the brats?” Bolton asked during a stretch of down time; the twins had taken a break to brew some tea that would become heavily sugared while Ainsley, as the rookie, was tasked with changing the set pieces for the next act. Bolton and Fernald reclined as best they could in the front row seats of the audience.

           “Whenever Olaf decides we can actually get involved again,” Fernald grumbled. “You think he was serious about splitting the fortune with us?”            “He better be” was Bolton’s only response.

           After a moment’s silence, Bolton asked, “What do you think of the new guy?”

           “You mean Ainsley?” Fernald replied. “First of all, they’re not a ‘guy.’ Second…they’re all right. They seem to fit in well around here. Good enough actor.”

           “He never shuts up about weird stuff,” Bolton commented.

           “They have a lot to say,” Fernald rephrased. “It’s interesting, sometimes.”

           “Yeah, sometimes.”

           Both were interrupted by a piercing scream. Ainsley, shrieking loudly, pealed onstage. The current set had been meant to emulate a dining room, with a large, crooked wooden table taking center stage. In one feat of unprecedented dexterity, Ainsley leapt on top of this table, positioning themselves at its center and frantically looking around at the stage below, cries petering out into whimpers.

           Bolton stifled a laugh. Fernald, on the other hand, immediately concerned by whatever had Ainsley so terrified, practically jumped up from his seat, rushing onstage at the same time that Charlotte and Emily skidded into the auditorium from the outside hall, nearly spilling their tea. “What’s wrong?” Fernald barked up at Ainsley.

           Ainsley required a few breaths in order to collect themselves before informing Fernald, “There’s a snake backstage…”

           “A snake?” Fernald repeated, and Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily all flinched. “What kind of snake?” Fernald hoped not to hear the response “The deadly kind.”

           “It’s just…it’s a snake,” Ainsley responded, visibly trembling and turning circles and circles on the table to be on guard for it. “And it’s RIGHT THERE!” They pointed at a spot on the stage floor where the perpetrator, a smaller-than-usual garter snake, was curiously making its way out from the wings.

           “That…is a very tiny snake,” Fernald pointed out.

           Ainsley had run out of words, shuffling toward the edge of the table that was furthest from the snake’s current position.

           “You’re not going to be okay until one of us kills it, are you?” Fernald sighed. He wasn’t a fan of snakes either. Had the garter snake been any larger, he would have been slightly nervous.

           Ainsley shook their head, their quivering becoming even more prominent.

           “One minute,” Fernald sighed, storming backstage (to the opposite wing from where the snake was) to root through the troupe’s collection of odd props that could conveniently double as weaponry. A snow shovel caught his eye. It took him a few tries to get his hooks in a grip on the handle, and it tilted at an awkward angle as he carried it back out onstage.

           By this point, Charlotte and Emily had joined Bolton in the front row of the audience. The scene was becoming far more entertaining to them than any Jacquelyn Seieszka film.

           Fernald didn’t just kill the snake with the snow shovel. He smashed it flat repeatedly, absolutely destroying its physical form so that it barely resembled a snake anymore. The WHAM, WHAM, WHAM of the shovel hitting the floor bounced around the acoustically excellent walls of the auditorium. After about a solid two minutes of making sure the garter snake was obliterated from existence, Fernald finally dropped the shovel. “The snake is gone,” he announced, turning back around to face Ainsley.

           Ainsley looked back at him with uncertainty.

           “You can get down off the table,” Fernald encouraged. “It’s dead.”

           Ainsley gingerly clambered down onto the stage as Fernald approached them, driven inexplicably by the desire to make sure Ainsley wasn’t permanently traumatized.

           It should not be necessary to point out that Ainsley was ophidiophobic, and didn’t have a good relationship with most other types of reptiles either. The garter snake’s sudden appearance had shaken them, and though the threat was now neutralized, they were still reeling from the scare. Instinctively, they sought a protective bastion until their heart rate had lowered, and so, without even thinking, they closed the distance between themselves and Fernald and wrapped the latter in a tight embrace, grateful that Fernald had stepped up to get rid of the offending reptile and now seeing Fernald as the safest thing in the entire auditorium.

           Fernald was stunned by this reaction, though he didn’t make any moves to shoo Ainsley away. Instead, after some thought, he gently wrapped his own arms around Ainsley, taking care not to jab them in the back with either hook. “It’s all right,” he repeated. “The snake is gone.”

           Ainsley realized what they were doing just then, letting go of Fernald and backing away in embarrassment. “Can we…pretend that never happened?” they asked sheepishly.

           Fernald nodded, a bit flustered himself. “Sure. That’s…a VERY good idea.”

           “Hey,” Bolton called up from the audience. “Somethin’ going on between you two?”

           “Something?” Fernald replied. “What do you mean SOMETHING? There’s NOTHING!”

           “I was just reacting out of ophidiophobia-driven instinct,” Ainsley added. “There really isn’t any deeper meaning behind what just happened.”

           “Of course there isn’t,” Charlotte said teasingly.

           “Why would we EVER think there was?” Emily added, equally teasingly, and the twins’ smirks were both far too gleeful.

           “The snake is dead,” Fernald growled. “End of discussion.”

           “You know what would happen if you two WERE a thing, right?” Bolton brought up.

           “By ‘thing,’ do you mean a couple?” Ainsley clarified. “Because if you mean that, we’re definitely not.”

           “Olaf would figure out some way to use it against you,” Bolton pointed out. “Get you to do what he wanted.”

           “Then it’s a good thing we’re NOT A COUPLE,” Fernald insisted. He knew quite well how ruthless Olaf could be about exploiting where one’s affections lay; that was why he’d been careful to the extreme about never letting Olaf know he had a sister.

           “Right,” Bolton jeered. “Mr. The-New-Guy-Sure-Is-Pretty.”

           Ainsley turned to Fernald in interest. “You said that?”            “NO!” Fernald yelled defensively. “Can we just get back to work already?”            Ainsley gave him a shrug that more or less meant “yes.”

           “And somebody clean up that dead snake!” Fernald barked as he stormed backstage. 

           Ainsley’s downtown apartment wasn’t overly lavish, nor was it representative of one living in destitution. It was small, but for one person living alone, that made sense, Fernald thought as he glanced around it. He felt incredibly out of place there, and wondered how he’d even gotten to that location. Of course, he knew how: it just struck him as a bit unbelievable.

           Olaf’s scheme to marry Violet Baudelaire had gone belly-up. Now the entire troupe was on the run from the law, though the law hardly had any idea where to start looking for them or what their names even were. All five had felt relatively safe hiding out in their own abodes, though when the phone had rung earlier that afternoon, Fernald had admittedly jumped, fearing the law had already tracked him down (and not realizing that the first thing they would do was knock on his door, not call him on the telephone to try to arrest him via audio). It had taken him, as usual, a few minutes to figure out how to answer the phone. No matter how many times he did it, he seemed to always mix up the receiver and the mouthpiece; it simply didn’t click as a natural pattern in his brain. When he finally did get it turned right way round, he practically yelled “HELLO?”            “Is this Fernald?” a familiar voice had asked.

           “Who is this?” Fernald snapped in response. “Who’s calling me?”            “This is Ainsley,” the voice replied. “I kinda want your help with something.”

           And that had begun the conversation that led Fernald downtown to Ainsley’s living space.

           “So do you want any coffee or anything?” Ainsley offered.

           “No,” Fernald said brisky. “I’m good. Thank you.”            “You can totally sit on the couch if you want,” Ainsley continued.

           Fernald took them up on that one, settling in on the beige couch. “So what did you want my help with?” he asked.

           “I actually have an audition in a couple hours,” Ainsley informed him, “and I wanted a second opinion on if I was emoting properly in the soliloquy I prepared for it.”

           “You’re actually doing a show the boss didn’t write?” Fernald said incredulously. “Which one?”

           “Equus.”

           “Isn’t that the one where the kid gets turned on by horses?”            “It’s actually more complicated than that,” Ainsley explained. “It’s basically a critical analysis of spirituality in modern society.”

           “I’ll, uh…I’ll take your word for it.” Fernald settled back into the couch. “So, uh…did you invite the rest of the troupe over, or…?”            “Just you, actually,” Ainsley admitted. “I just think you’re probably the most appropriate person to judge my delivery and give me an honest opinion.” That wasn’t quite true, but Ainsley didn’t feel it quite appropriate to let on to Fernald that he was the person they felt the most comfortable around, between him using their correct pronouns and his actions during the day of the great garter snake invasion.

           “Well, let’s hear it,” Fernald encouraged.

           Ainsley momentarily wondered if inviting Fernald to review their audition was a mistake. Watching him watch them was giving them classic symptoms of stage fright, which Ainsley found odd, as they generally didn’t have such a condition, even in front of audiences of hundreds. Perhaps it was because of their amicability toward each other, the fact that Ainsley actually knew the lone member of their audience this time, that was causing Ainsley’s heart to beat faster and palms to sweat. They closed their eyes momentarily in order to find the beginning of what they’d memorized, then took a breath, opened their eyes, and began to recite.

           They didn’t get two lines in when the phone rang.

           “Sorry,” Ainsley sighed. “I have to get that.”

           “Go ahead,” Fernald replied.

           He watched Ainsley walk into the kitchen to answer the phone; the door offered a clear view of them the whole while. “Hello?” they greeted, picking up the receiver. “Yeah, this…you what? You totally couldn’t have called at a worse time. Okay, so I have this audition for Equus in a couple hours and…I don’t really…no, I…that’s not…can you at least let me talk? Okay, fine. I’ll be there. Yes, I’ll tell them. All of them. No, I won’t forget – his name is Bolton. And mine’s Ainsley. I said I’ll BE there.” They slammed the receiver back to the telephone base with a show of force Fernald had never seen before. Then, continuing to surprise Fernald, they picked the receiver up and slammed it angrily back into place several more times. Fernald had a pretty good idea of who had called.

           He got up from the couch, crossing tentatively into the kitchen. “That was the boss?”            “Yeah,” Ainsley confirmed, still staring daggers at the phone.

           “Let me guess. He needs us for a scheme. Right now.”

           “Yeah.”

           After an awkward silence, Ainsley turned to face Fernald, obviously trying to stuff their anger away. “Fernald?”

           “What?”

           “How do you spell ‘coroner’?” 

           Somehow, the entire troupe managed to shake off the authorities that were tailing their van, despite the van being emblazoned with a definitely misspelled “CORNER,” a testament to why Fernald should never be asked to help spell anything.

           Fernald, Ainsley, Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily ended up holing up at a rundown motel, awaiting Olaf’s call and further instructions. They booked four rooms, with Charlotte and Emily sharing one. They then congregated in Fernald’s room, all five cramming onto the bed, in order to start up a new card game.

           There were only so many hours that can be killed playing cards. “Maybe he forgot about us this time,” Bolton theorized.

           “If only we were so lucky,” Charlotte griped.

           Emily elbowed her sister in the side. “Without Olaf, where are we?”

           “We’re here, is where we are,” Fernald grumbled, playing the absolute most wrong card he could have picked. “Playing cards in a dingy motel where I know I saw at least three spiders in the bathroom.” A thought occurred to him. “Ainsley…you aren’t afraid of spiders, are you?”            “Not as much as snakes,” Ainsley replied, intentionally picking a worse card than Fernald’s play. It hadn’t taken them long to catch onto the fact that Fernald usually lost at such games, and they felt somewhat piteous toward him for that, hence the beginning of an intentional losing streak on Ainsley’s end.

           “Well, if nothing else, we’ll at least get treated to another show of Fernald beating the spiders to death with a toothbrush,” Emily joked.

           The last card was played and the score tallied. “You know, Ainsley,” Bolton commented, “you’re really bad at this.”

           “I know,” Ainsley responded nonchalantly. “And totally not on purpose, either.”

           “Another hand?” Charlotte asked.

           This was met with four groans; everyone was sick of playing. “I’m going to bed,” Bolton announced as the group scrambled off Fernald’s bed.

           “I’m going to go find coffee,” Ainsley added. “I have seriously needed coffee for hours.”

           “It’s…” Fernald checked the clock. “Eleven at night. And you’re getting COFFEE?”

           “I’ll have decaf,” Ainsley said with a shrug.

           “It’s already eleven?” Charlotte remarked. “That’s far past bedtime, if you ask me. What do you think, Emi – “

           Emily collapsed onto Fernald’s bed face-first, snoring.

           Bolton had to scoop her up to carry her back to the room she shared with Charlotte. “If he calls at two in the morning,” he informed everyone, “I’m seriously going to think about punching him in the face when we see him again.”

           The group parted ways, and Fernald lay down in his solitary bed. At first, he considered simply going to sleep. It was, after all, very late. Yet he made no move to detach his hooks, as he usually would before lying down for the night. He wondered if it was reflection upon all the excitement of the Dr. Montgomery incident that kept him from dousing his mental light.

           Then he wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Ainsley had said they weren’t going to sleep just yet either.

           He found himself leaving his room to make his way to the lounge. A small, weathered coffee machine was situated in the middle of a counter, free for use by patrons of the motel. Fernald guessed Ainsley had been here in order to obtain the coffee, but they were long gone by that point. Perhaps they’d gone back to sleep.

           Crossing back through the lobby, Fernald stopped to ask the hostess, “Have…you seen a very tall person with reddish hair come through this way with a cup of coffee?”

           The hostess nodded. “She actually went out front of the building. There are a couple chairs set up out there.”

           “They’re not a…” Fernald shook his head. “Never mind.”

           He exited the motel into the dark night to see a patch of rickety-looking chairs set up on the lawn in a semblance of guest convenience. One of them was occupied. Fernald reconsidered joining the familiar silhouette for a moment; perhaps they just wanted to be alone. Then again, there was never any harm in asking, was there?

           “Mind if I sit?” he asked as he approached Ainsley.

           “Go ahead,” Ainsley replied, and Fernald took the chair next to him.

           There was silence for a moment as Ainsley sipped from their steaming, chipped cup and Fernald rummaged around his mind for conversation topics. “So,” he said at last. “Some day, huh?”

           “Yeah,” Ainsley replied, rather miffed as they recalled the events. “Because missing my potential break into serious acting in favor of walking into a plethora of snakes and other assorted reptiles was totally how I wanted to spend my day.”

           “Well, look at it this way,” Fernald pointed out. “You might have missed your audition, but you brought down the house as Nurse Lucafont.”

           It was hard to tell in the dark, but somehow Fernald was still able to detect the faint smile that replaced Ainsley’s disgruntled expression upon hearing that. “You weren’t bad either.”

           It was then that Fernald realized, for the first time in hours, that they were still wearing their disguises from earlier in the day. He couldn’t imagine what the hostess must have thought of the entire troupe walking in dressed as though they were the cast of a forensics-based TV program. “You look pretty good in that,” he said softly.

           “What?”

           “What?” Fernald feigned ignorance. “So…what were you thinking about out here?”

           “Lots of things.” Ainsley paused to take another long sip. “I was actually considering the nature of romantic love.”

           Fernald didn’t even think to wonder what could have put Ainsley on that train of thought, even though by that point, it would have been obvious to any outsider. “What about it?”

           “I was wondering if it’s even real,” Ainsley explained. “Sometimes I think it’s all just a societal construct designed to fool us into taking on cultural roles that are largely patriarchal. Sometimes I think it’s actually one of the greatest mysteries and most powerful forces in existence.”

           “You…ever been in love?”            “Not yet. But I think I’ve been pretty close a few times.” Another sip of coffee. “What’s your take on the subject?”            “I don’t even know,” Fernald admitted. “I guess I think it’s real. I’ve felt…things. About people. I don’t know as much about this kind of stuff as you do.”

           “I think you do,” Ainsley corrected. “You just word it differently.”

           It was then that Fernald failed to exhibit the self-control he knew he should have had. Listening to Ainsley speak had only reminded him of all the things he appreciated about his co-worker, and he suddenly felt compelled to demonstrate this. He leaned over in the dark, briefly kissing Ainsley on the cheek.

           The coffee cup hit the ground, its remaining contents spilling.

           Fernald was hit with the full realization of what he’d just done. Ainsley had turned to face him, and he could make out an expression of bewilderment on their face. “I don’t know why I just did that,” he sputtered, flummoxed. “Do you hear Bolton calling me? I think I hear Bolton calling me.” He rose from his seat and turned to scurry back to the motel. “I should go – “

           “Fernald.”

           A hand landed softly on his shoulder from behind; Ainsley had risen as well. Fernald had to work up the nerve to turn back around and look them in the eye.

           “It’s when I’m with you that I think the idea of romantic love isn’t a total fallacy,” Ainsley confessed.

           “Wait, really?” Fernald replied.

           “You’re the only one who really listens to me,” Ainsley told him. They leaned forward a stitch, and Fernald caught on, stepping closer to meet them so that Ainsley could gently press their lips to Fernald’s. Their hands sought out and caressed the sides of Fernald’s face, and Fernald found himself rather lamenting that he didn’t have hands to do the same; the best he could do was just wrap his arms around Ainsley’s waist as he returned the kiss more forcefully.

           “Olaf can’t know,” he said when they parted from the kiss.

           “Olaf won’t know,” Ainsley reassured him.

           “NONE OF THEM can know.”

           “They won’t.”

           They stepped back from each other. “It’s probably midnight,” Ainsley realized.

           “And nobody knows how long we have to get any sleep before the boss calls,” Fernald sighed. “Just…one more, first?”

           They kept the kiss brief, then walked back into the motel side by side.

           “Goodnight, Ainsley,” Fernald said earnestly.

           “Sweet dreams, Fernald.”

           They entered their respective rooms, across the hall from each other, and as each closed the door, each took a moment to lean back on it and reflect in disbelief on what had just taken place.

           To Olaf’s credit, he didn’t call at two in the morning. He called at three. 

           Shortly thereafter, the troupe found themselves ferrying Count Olaf across Lake Lachrymose. While Bolton, Ainsley, Fernald, Charlotte, and Emily crammed themselves into a small rowboat, Olaf fixed a slightly smaller rowboat behind them and decided immediately he wasn’t going to be doing any of the work whatsoever. Charlotte and Emily sat up front while Fernald was positioned in the rear of the boat between Bolton and Ainsley, the latter two of whom were rowing to propel the entire entourage forward. This was at the behest of Olaf, or, at the very least, he had wanted “Gordon and Avery” to do the rowing.

           “So the Montgomery thing was a bust,” Olaf rambled, as much to himself as to anyone else. “At least he’s dead, and if there’s one thing we didn’t need, it was Montgomery Montgomery figuring out our plan. I still can’t believe that idiot thought I was from the Herpetological Society. Given his reputation, I’m surprised he didn’t figure out who I was right away and make up some lie about thinking I was a spy from some cold-sore organization to throw me off the trail.” Then he paused. “…He didn’t just DO that to me, did he?”

           Olaf continued to rant, to the point where Fernald was basically tuning him out. He noticed when the boat seemed to take a sudden tilt to the side. Bolton’s rowing was still steadfast, but Ainsley was flagging. Fernald took one look at Ainsley and knew something was wrong; they were bent over the oar, face gone completely pale.

           “Are you okay?” Fernald whispered.

           “No,” Ainsley whispered back. “I’m trying really hard not to throw up over the side of the boat.”

           “What, you’re seasick?”

           “It’s a large lake, remember? I’m large-lakesick.”

           “I swear you’ve told us you’ve been on boats before!” Fernald hissed.

           “Bigger boats,” Ainsley corrected. “Boats where I can’t actually feel the water…rocking.”

           “You going to be able to row?”

           “No…”

           “Give it to me. Now.”

           Ainsley nodded, pursing their lips together to be sure that the next thing that came out of their mouth was words and not vomit. Both Fernald and Ainsley knew far better than to stand up in the boat, an action that would surely take the whole operation overboard and make the others not only soaked but very, very crabby. They did their best to shuffle past each other, switching places. Once Fernald was settled on the edge of the boat, it took him a couple tries to position his hooks in such a manner that he had a definite grip on the oar, but at last he found a comfortable hold and took up the job of boat propulsion.

           “What are you doing?” Bolton asked.

           “Switching,” Fernald answered sternly.

           “Yeah, but WHY?”

           “Because I want to row the boat,” Fernald insisted.

           “You’re just rowing because HE’S too lazy to,” Bolton accused, indicating Ainsley, who was at that point settling in to lie on the bottom of the boat between Bolton and Fernald.

           “They’re not a ‘he,’” Fernald growled.

           “I’m right here,” Ainsley reminded them both. “You can actually, you know, talk to me.”

           “Sorry,” Fernald muttered.

           “Will you all quit arguing and ROW THE BOAT?” Olaf yelled from his position behind.

           “That’s exactly what we’re doing, boss!” Fernald called back. He then looked down to Ainsley, asking softly, “Any better?”            “Yeah,” Ainsley replied, shutting their eyes tightly.

           “Just keep your eyes closed,” Fernald advised, “and try not to think about the waves rocking the boat back and forth, or the water rippling underneath us, or the – “

           “FERNALD.” Ainsley had opened one eye to glare up at him.

           “Probably not helping. Right. Sorry.” 

           The Captain Sham gambit was twice as convoluted as Plan Stephano. The troupe put on their best performances (which isn’t saying a lot) when it came to uniting Olaf and Josephine in a romantic relationship that was about as real as the second elevator shaft in 667 Dark Avenue.

           From there, it was a madcap rush between fencing the Baudelaires in at Josephine’s cliffside abode and making sure everything at the Anxious Clown restaurant went as wrong as it could.

           As Arthur Poe and Count Olaf, still in the guise of Captain Sham, sat in the main seating area of the small dining facility, the troupe had the run of the kitchen, making sure their captive waiter Larry didn’t give the game away by hiding messages in the food he was to bring to the Baudelaires. Larry, for his part, had either believed the quintet to be incredibly stupid or hadn’t counted on them being familiar with the secret V.F.D. methods of communication.

           “You’ll never defeat us,” Larry asserted. “You can surround us. You can throw us out of windows. You can threaten us and make us cook for you – “

           “Sorry to interrupt, but what’s the soup of the day?”

           Larry, Charlotte, Emily, and Bolton’s heads all whipped to look at Ainsley, stupefied that they’d made such a non sequitur request. Fernald, for his part, was unfazed.

           “Well?” Fernald barked. “Answer the question!”

           “It’s clam chowder,” Larry growled. “But I don’t see what that has to do with – “

           “You’re OUR hostage now,” Fernald insisted. “And that means you do what we say. And right now, I say you MAKE THE DAMN SOUP!”

           He stole a quick glance at Ainsley, whose face had lit up.

           “And while you’re at it,” Fernald ordered, “get me one of those Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers.”

           “Don’t put any secret messages in that one, either,” Ainsley added.

            This wasn’t to say that everything between Fernald and Ainsley was forged of complete accord. They had their share of arguments. For instance, one was had the night before, when Fernald, hoping to divert attention from the time the two spent together, had clearly assigned Ainsley the task of guarding Larry, and Ainsley, thinking the twins had it under control, had simply gotten into the car with the rest of the troupe. Then there was later that very same day at the Anxious Clown, when Fernald found Ainsley and Larry having a conversation about pasta puttanesca. Then again, it wasn’t so much a conversation as Larry bewilderedly listening to one of his captors describe a pasta recipe he already knew how to make to him and wondering how he’d gone from being the troupe’s dish-washing servant to this.

           “STOP BEING FRIENDLY TO HIM!” Fernald snapped at Ainsley, having flashbacks of when he’d been less than cruel to Sunny Baudelaire and how well that had turned out.

           Ainsley fell silent, looking away. They absolutely hated being snapped at by Fernald; it hit right in the heart.

           The telephone rang. Neither Ainsley, who was still dismayed from being shouted at by Fernald, nor Fernald, who was at that moment wondering if he’d been too curt with Ainsley, thought to actually stop Larry from answering it. “Anxious Clown Restaurant,” Larry greeted halfheartedly. “This is Larry, your waiter.”

           “Larry, I don’t have much time,” a muffled voice, likely disguised by a cloth placed over the mouthpiece of the connected phone, said over the line. “The Quagmires are alive.”

           “Alive?” Larry said in disbelief. “Where?”

           “The tunnel system should have taken them to the depths of Peru.”

           “Peru?”

           “We haven’t heard anything on the Quagmire children. Are they still safe?”            “Secure for the moment,” Larry hissed, “but you need to know – “

            “So are you gonna stop him?” Ainsley grunted.

           Fernald realized letting the hostage use the telephone may have been a fatal mistake. He rushed to overtake Larry, hooking the phone cord and yelling into the mouthpiece, “WHO IS THIS?” His usual telephone illiteracy overtook him, and he peered into, then listened at the mouthpiece, trying to remember how those cursed devices actually worked. He fumbled with the receiver for a moment before giving up on it completely. “Hello?” he yelled at the phone. “HELLO!” He then bashed the phone a couple times with one hook. “How does it WORK? HELLO!”

           Larry simply stared on in fear and disbelief.

           Fernald spun to face Ainsley. “HELP ME WITH THIS THING!”

           “No,” Ainsley replied, not making eye contact.

           “WHY NOT?”

           “Because you yelled at me.”

           “Listen.” Fernald dropped the receiver and stormed toward Ainsley. “We don’t have time for fooling around, making nice with the hostages!”

           “We don’t have time to waste trying to figure out how phones work, either.”

           “WHAT?”

           The argument that followed was lengthy, with Fernald’s volume steadily increasing while Ainsley put more and more creativity into the insults they hurled at Fernald in return.

           “YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KIND OF GAME?”

           “If it is, you’re a pawn with delusions of grandeur of being a dictatorial king.”

           “I BET YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO PLAY CHESS!”

           Larry tried to use his captors’ distracted state to edge toward the door, but Bolton, Charlotte, and Emily all planted themselves in front of it so he couldn’t make an escape attempt.

           “The only reason,” Fernald huffed, finally running out of steam, “I didn’t want you to play nice with him is because that’s how you end up with tape on your mouth, giving the hostage a free ride all the way down to the theater. I know this from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE.” He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Sorry I yelled.”

           “Sorry I called you an ignorant example of the sheeple that are slowly poisoning our already toxic society. Among other things.”

           “You’re forgiven,” Fernald relented.

           “Are those two…?” Larry tried to whisper.

           “We’re not a couple,” Fernald and Ainsley said as one in a knee-jerk reaction.

           “Of course not,” Charlotte said smugly.

           “Whyever would we think you were?” Emily said even more smugly.

           Fernald and Ainsley exchanged a nervous glance, then looked away from each other, both wondering if they’d gotten a bit too obvious. 

           The Captain Sham sham sank like a rowboat that had just been pulverized by a cannonball. However, the entire troupe escaped once again, speaking to Mr. Poe’s ability to actually corner known villains.

           “Where are we going now, boss?” Fernald asked as they all loaded up into a getaway car.

           “WE aren’t going anywhere,” Olaf replied, briefly glancing into the rearview mirror, which was pointed down at his face rather than at the back window as is actually safe when driving in heavy traffic, so he could wink at himself. “I’m going to contact an old ally. You’re going to wait until I call you for further instructions.”

           While Olaf made haste toward a town calling itself “Paltryville,” the other five returned to the city. Bolton hid out in his usual apartment, and the twins found their house in the suburbs to be secure. When it came to Fernald and Ainsley, however, splitting up wasn’t in the cards.

           “I never saw your place,” Ainsley pointed out.

           “I don’t really think you want to,” Fernald replied.

           They ended up at Fernald’s apartment anyway, and Fernald found himself somewhat self-conscious of the mess it had been left in. Hardly anything was clean, and nothing was where it was supposed to be, with dishes on the bookshelf and socks in the silverware drawer. The entire apartment ran on a premise known to many as “organized chaos.” Fernald knew where everything was, and it was exactly where he needed it to be. He suspected Ainsley wouldn’t see eye-to-eye with him on this, however.

           “I know,” he sighed. “It’s a mess.”

           “It’s bigger than my place,” Ainsley pointed out.

           They spent the afternoon playing various card games. Fernald was astonished that Ainsley lost every single hand, thinking it miraculously that he’d somehow found the one person in the world who was worse at card games than he was – though again, this was an intentional act on Ainsley’s part. And Ainsley was more than happy to owe Fernald a back rub for a lost game.

           After some discussion, they decided it was still too soon to be sharing sleeping quarters, but at the same time, they did want to remain together for as much time as they had, knowing it wouldn’t be much before Olaf called them into action once more. Fernald decided to spend the night on the couch, letting Ainsley have the bed in the adjacent room.

           Thinking Ainsley was settling into the bed for the night, Fernald detached his hooks, huddling under a spare blanket on the couch, which was old but not uncomfortable. No sooner had he closed his eyes when he heard a voice asking, “Can I make a cup of coffee?”

           “It’s ten-thirty,” Fernald replied, opening his eyes and sitting up. “So I assume you want decaf.”

           He talked Ainsley through the locations of the coffee grounds and filters in the kitchen, as well as the mugs, which were kept in a cabinet under the television. As Ainsley watched the coffee drip into the pot, Fernald asked, “What are you thinking about?”, knowing Ainsley was always thinking about something and suspecting their mind was going into overdrive if they needed coffee that late at night.

           “I was just thinking about evil,” Ainsley admitted. “I always thought good and evil were another binary that people didn’t really belong to one or the other of. Morality isn’t black-and-white. It’s more like a grayish color. A lot of people do bad things for good reasons, and a lot of people do good things for bad reasons. Then there’s us. We do bad things for bad reasons, but really, so far, we’ve just been doing what we need to do in order to get ahead. We’re looking out for ourselves, and people like us need to do that.”

           “But?” Fernald encouraged, sensing doubt in Ainsley’s voice.

           “I’m starting to wonder if we’re taking it too far,” they admitted. “I was cool with Dr. Montgomery dying and all, but Josephine wasn’t really a threat to us. I also didn’t actually see Dr. Montgomery GET killed, which, all considered, shouldn’t really change things, but it still made me wonder if I’m actually becoming evil.” The coffee maker beeped; Ainsley removed the pot to pour a cup. “And I thought I’d be cool with it if I was, but maybe I’m not.” They paused, momentarily afraid to look Fernald in the eye. “You probably think that means I don’t belong with the rest of the team, then. Or you.”

           “I don’t think that,” Fernald assured them, lightly touching the end of his arm to their forearm. “Good and evil are complicated. I never thought people were one or the other either. I always thought people were more like…chef salads, with good and evil mixed up in them.”

           “Even Olaf?”            “Yes. He’s got some good in him SOMEwhere. Just not where any of us can see it. I know I have a lot of good and evil mixed up in me. I’m fine with it. And I think you’re the same way. I don’t know exactly HOW good or HOW evil you are. But I like you. I always love hearing you talk about stuff like this.”

           Ainsley turned to face Fernald, smiling unsurely. “And I totally love that you listen.”

           They kissed briefly. “I like you so much,” Ainsley continued, and they kissed again after that. “But what happens next time – “

           “Let’s not think about next time yet,” Fernald decided before a third kiss ensued.

           That seemed to bring Ainsley to a realization. “You always listen to me,” they reiterated, backing off a bit. “Maybe I don’t listen to you enough. I want to know more about you. How’d you get involved with Olaf, anyway?”            And in that moment, Fernald was tempted to tell Ainsley everything he could never have told Olaf. About Fiona. About the true nature of the V.F.D. schism and what led him to make his choice. He was ready to begin speaking of all such things, and very nearly poured all of his secrets out in a manner similar to how Ainsley had poured the contents of the coffee pot into a cup, when the phone rang, and they both knew who was calling.

           Fernald looked at the ends of his arms in a panic; answering the phone would be twice as difficult without his hooks, and it would take him a bit of time to reattach them, time during which Olaf would become grouchier and grouchier. Ainsley knew exactly what Fernald was thinking, asking, “Do you need me to hold the phone?”            “Yes…”

           In an instant, Fernald was set up in front of the telephone, with Ainsley holding the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” Fernald greeted.

           “Ferdinand?” Olaf said in disbelief. “Usually it takes you longer to answer a phone.”

           Fernald exchanged a quick and somewhat anxious look with Ainsley. “Had to get it right sometime,” he said sheepishly. “So, whaddaya need, boss?”

           “I’m at the Lucky Smells Lumbermill in Paltryville,” Olaf explained, “and they just so happen to be in need of a new foreman. One with HANDS, mind you. Being the brilliant casting director that I am, I know you’re perfect for the job. Though, like I said, bring hands. We need a little…ACCIDENT to happen here at the mill.”

           “I’ll be right there,” Fernald promised.

           “And hurry it up,” Olaf insisted.

           “I am literally headed out the door as we speak!” Fernald replied, following in his boss’ footsteps of confusing the definitions of “literally” and “figuratively.” He nodded to Ainsley, who took the cue to hang up the phone.

           “The boss needs me in Paltryville,” Fernald explained. “Now.”

           “You need me to come along?” Ainsley asked.

           Fernald didn’t just refuse because Olaf hadn’t specified for anyone else to accompany him. Olaf’s emphasis on the word “accident” rang in his ears, coupled with Ainsley’s uncertainty about murdering Josephine Anwhistle. “I’ll be fine,” he said simply. “This shouldn’t take long, hopefully.”

           “I’ll wait for you,” Ainsley promised. 

           Of course, villains, even villains with a fair amount of good and evil mixed together in them, are as subject to misery as those who are not villains. No matter how much sugar you put in your tea, you cannot escape the impending rocks that life places beneath your wheels.

           However, this also means that villains are just as apt as those who are not villains to come by events that are fortunate, though for those who are their victims, these events are usually seen from the opposite point of view entirely. Sometimes, however, they simply find something as significant as someone to talk to, or someone to listen to. And from a certain point of view, that isn’t so unfortunate after all.