#and also ada spark

[chichr0]

multiple sparks in outfits i drew in the past.. the third one being his main outfit :]

im working on posting all my spark art here, so i'm starting out with these

[citrine-elephant]

if re6 gets a remake i hope they use leon's newer game face model

the engine the used made him look like hell sometimes, absolutely loved his face there tho, and he's such a snack and a hella dilf and AHHH

edit: i dont think i got my point across in my happy rambles but i personally did not like the look of re6 in general? the visual effects. imo, not that it should matter, there were ugly face moments? it felt awkward, idk. (art doesn't have to be sexy all the time tho!! shouldn't have to be!! everyone can look feral and unhinged as hell)

[welldrawnfish]

Hello

Sorry I know this is weird but I was curious if you are tourist to Ottawa?

Also I was wondering if you had any recommendations for what to do for pride in Ottawa? Since this would be my second pride month I will be celebrating as out as trans

Uhh if your touristing and its not just for pride... Avoid Bank St. its touted as the lgbt neighborhood but theirs only a small section of it i would advise traveling. otherwise some assholes are trying to hyper gentrify it, shoving people outta housing and displacing mom and pop businesses. Its leading to alot of homelessness and drug use centered there. Nature museum is a must, super cool and fun exhibits. Across the river in gatineau there's the history museum that has a ton of cool aboriginal stuff. Food wise, Zacs Diner is good if you want some milkshake and fries kinda pub food, King Eddy has some of the best breakfast in the city. Tho Id say Wilf and Ada's is the best diner in town. Pizza, if you like drunk food pizza el toros downtown is great, but its only open on business hours so plan ahead, otherwise if you want good good pizza there's alot of wood fired places around. I like Retro gusto's and Del Piaceira Poisson blue is great, and theres a few good hibachi places in asiatown but i cant remember thier names. As far as free stuff, walking the canal, or the gatinuea/ottawa greenway is gorgeous, theres a cute lil gazebo behind parliament you can go to and have lunch I took kayla we love it there. There is a beach down by mechanicsville i think? museums are free on thursday irrc gatineau has this cool cultural street thats open a little bit a year with crazy exhibits but ive never been because im scared of getting lost in frenchland theres the art museum and if you can afford it a great theater, they doing beetlejuice right now that id kill to go to but i aint got beetlejuice money. beeeee-cause im broke. havent found any good sushi places, and i dont normally go out for burritos or anything like that. I prefer to cook my own food so im sorry i dont have more food recommendations Gatineau state park has a shuttle bus and you can get pretty deep in there and go camping its amazing there. i really want to start going camping more if i had the cash for gear. Sparks is pretty to walk down, and theres a spooky walk agency that gives you tours of haunted buildings thats lots of fun. but dont eat or buy on sparks, tourist trap. Same with the byward market, spend wisely, its pricey because its touristy. ottawa is pretty big so its hard to give more info unless theres something specific your into, but i assume youll be mostly downtown so thats what id hit if i were there.

[queenshelby]

AMERICAN GIRL (PART SIX)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace's Stepdaughter!Reader

Warning: Grace is a bully, infidelity, taboo

Over the next few days, you tried to avoid Tommy at all costs and when Ada invited you and Emma to stay with her for a few nights in London,  you couldn't help but accept her offer with open arms.

The bustling city provided a much-needed distraction from the constant tension that seemed to have surfaced since that evening at the Garrison and Ada even took you shopping to help you find something elegant.

One evening, however, you decided to venture out on your own , eager to enjoy the anonymity that the city offered and explore the vibrant nightlife. It was then that you stumbled upon a lavish and elegant establishment, nestled in an unsuspecting corner, away from the main streets.

There was a guard or so called bouncer in front of the door, telling you that women were not  allowed in on their own. The place was exclusive, and you couldn't help but feel intrigued, craving a taste of this mysterious new luxury.

Although you wanted to press the issue, a sense of caution and self-preservation stopped you from making a fuss.

"You are not a performer, are you Love?" another man in a suit asked just as you were about to leave . The intrigue in his eyes was unmistakable, and a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"And what makes you ask me that?" you inquired with a hint of amusement, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, it's just a hunch, Sweetheart," he replied, slowly letting his gaze roam over your figure, trying to gauge your response. The way he eyed you filled you with a curious mixture of unease and exhilaration. "Because, if you are, in fact, a performer, I can let you in," he continued, his voice low and seductive, daring you to challenge him.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I am," you replied boldly, with just enough of a flicker in your eyes to make him believe you. "I am singer and, after few whiskeys on the house, I may even be happy enough to perform for free,"  you added, the corner of your lip quirking upwards in a challenging grin.

The man looked at you with a newfound sense of amusement and interest, a slow smirk spreading across his face before he opened the door, waving you in.

As you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by a world unlike any other; dimly lit, adorned with red velvet drapes, and filled with the sound of loud, lively jazz music. It was a world shrouded in mystery, decadence and, above all, allure.

As you ventured further into this unknown territory, your pulse quickened, and a heady thrill surged through your veins. The intoxicating atmosphere seemed almost tangible, and you couldn't help but be drawn into its hypnotic embrace.

Waiters adorned in crisp suits skillfully weaved through tables, expertly balancing trays laden with amber-colored liquid concoctions. A woman with fiery red hair, accentuated by an elegant sequined dress, sauntered around the baby grand piano with a predatory grace. Her voice intermingled with the music, creating an atmosphere that was as captivating as it was provocative.

"A drink for you ma'am?"  offered a waiter in a pristine suit, his eyes sharp and observant. The novelty of this enchanting place hadn't worn off yet, but his hawkish attention made you a little nervous.

"Yes, please. I'll have whatever you recommend," you responded, attempting to match his neutral expression with one of your own.

The waiter then gently placed an elegant, stemmed glass before you, adorned with a delicate slice of orange peel expertly twirled over the top.

"Will you be performing?" he too asked, seeing that you were on your own and not part of the usual décor that littered the establishment. This question caught you a bit off guard, but it also brought along a spark of excitement in your chest; you had not prepared for such a turn events, but it seemed to be unfolding quite nicely in front of your eyes.

"Yes, I suppose I will," you responded confidently, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away to scan the stage area.  The waiter nodded and walked away, leaving you to ponder your decision. You briefly wondered if you had made the right choice, but your curiosity and the thrill of the unknown whispered in your ear like a silent siren call. The temptation to stay and lose yourself in this immersive world was too enticing to ignore.

You scanned the elegant room with its sultry atmosphere until your gaze landed upon a familiar figure in the corner, sitting with his back to you. Thomas.

His presence sent your heart into a frenzy, causing it to gallop uncontrollably inside your chest. A concoction of emotions surged through you, and you realized that you cared too much for someone who was as good as forbidden.

Why was he here, out of all places, you wondered  ? A strange coincidence perhaps. You considered leaving, sparing yourself the torture of watching him from afar, yet your curiosity anchored you to the spot.

Your plan needed a rethink. With newfound resolve, you walked up to the woman on stage as she took a break and gently tapped her on the shoulder. She paused what she was doing, turned to you, and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Yes, dear?" she inquired with a knowing smile.

"I was wondering if I could sing a few songs during your interval," you confessed with a bashful smile. The woman, seemingly amused by your proposition, studied you for a few beats before nodding her head.

"Absolutely, darling. The stage is yours," she replied, extending her hand towards the microphone.

With a grateful nod, you made your way onto the platform, pulling in a measured breath to steady your nerves.

With trembling fingers, you adjusted the microphone stand and clasped it tightly to ground yourself in the swirling sea of emotions threatening to consume you. The gentle hum of conversation gradually receded, replaced by an expectant hush that blanketed the entire room which is when you began to sing.

The words and melody came almost naturally to you  , weaving together an intricate tapestry of emotion and sound. Each note resonated deep within you, released from a secret chamber that had been longing to be opened.

The enraptured patrons listened intently as they sipped their martinis and bourbons, the room's electricity shifting palpably, settling around you with an intensity that left you breathless. You felt exposed and vulnerable through each verse, and yet you couldn't deny the uninhibited freedom that singing had awakened within you.

But you did not just sing, you performed and, soon enough, the band that had been taking a break joined in. You loosened your hair  from its tidy bun and let it cascade down your shoulders, dancing wildly, as your voice weaved in and out of the pulsating rhythm. There was a wild magic in every movement, a seductive allure in the lyrics you effortlessly strung together. It was a captivating performance that left everyone motionless, including Thomas.

As you sang, you forgot about the forbidden nature of him, the danger that surrounded his presence, his empire of deception and secrets, and instead lost yourself in the music, letting go of all inhibitions.

Men cheered  and clapped, while women looked on with admiration and envy. You swayed along with the melody, the enchanting notes escaping your lips effortlessly. Each and every word seemed like vows whispered only to the man who had captured your heart, despite knowing that their paths were meant to never cross.

When you finally finished singing and the band drew their instruments to a close, the room erupted into thunderous applause, but before you knew it, there were two hands on you, ushering you off the stage, through the back.

"That's enough Love," Thomas murmured in your ear. "You had enough attention tonight, eh," he added, a hint of frustration and annoyance leaking into his voice. You were surprised by his appearance, but it thrilled you even more. 

"But I just started," you protested half-heartedly, relishing his possessive nature. Thomas simply shook his head, his expression remaining firm as he pulled you behind the velvet curtain while the red-haired woman took over again, thanking you for your impeccable performance before signing a tune of her own.

"It's time for you to leave," he declared, his voice low and authoritative.

"Why?" you asked. "There is no harm in me singing?" you queried with an arched brow, searching his eyes for reasonable justification for his sudden protectiveness.

His hold around your waist intensified as he pulled you closer, causing involuntary shivers to ripple through you. 

"That's not what concerns me," Thomas confessed gruffly. The corners of his lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "But these men are unpredictable, high on fucking cocaine and just waiting for someone like you," he began to say before being cut off by you.

"You know what I think Tommy?" you quipped, feeling a surge of courage thanks to the adrenaline and confidence from your performance. "You are jealous,"  you accused, looking straight into his eyes, challenging him to disagree.

The atmosphere between you and Thomas grew tenser as he held your gaze, searching for a response that somehow justified his feelings. You could see the internal struggle and conflict within him. He was not a man easily swayed by his emotions, yet here you were, igniting feelings in him that he couldn't suppress easily.

"I am not fucking jealous Love," he replied, barely hiding the irritation in his voice.

You smiled wryly, knowing deep down that your suspicion was not far off. The flicker of something unreadable in Thomas' eyes only served to heighten your curiosity and spur you on.

"Oh, I think you are," you pressed on. "You can't stand other men giving me attention. You can't even stand them looking at me for too long," you persisted, daring to call out his jealousy with the boldness that came from being under the spotlight.

Thomas' eyes flashed, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he tightened his hold around your waist and steered you out of the back door, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

The chilly air greeted your warm skin as you stumbled out onto the dimly lit alleyway.

"Tell me that I am right," you demanded as, suddenly, Thomas pressed you against the cold brick wall, his body hovering close, pinning you in place.

His blue eyes glittered with an intensity that was at once alarming and exhilarating, a quiet storm brewing in their depths. Every rational thought in your head seemed to fade away as you found yourself drowning in the all-consuming presence that was Thomas Shelby.

"Listen Love," he growled lowly, a rough quality weaving into his voice. "You're playing with fire here, and you don't even realize it." Thomas' voice was barely a whisper, a low warning that only served to fuel the flame crackling between them. You stared up at him, refusing to back down from the challenge in his eyes.

"Then I suppose I'll burn," you replied, your voice steady and unafraid, igniting his gaze.

Thomas leaned in, and you closed your eyes, anticipating the touch of his lips on yours. Instead, he trailed his nose along your jawline, inhaling deeply as if desperate to etch your scent into his memory.

When his lips found your ear, he whispered, "You don't know what you do to me."

The sensation of his breath against your skin caused an ache to bloom within you, deepening with every brush of his lips against your delicate flesh. His hands slid down your arms, capturing your wrists before gently pinning them above your head. The contrast between his possessive gesture and the way he caressed your skin with feather-light strokes was both intoxicating and maddening.

You gasped, the contact sending your thoughts reeling.

"Fucking kiss me already," you  whispered, urgent need clawing its way out of your throat. You opened your eyes, meeting Thomas' gaze head-on. The hunger in his eyes was impossible to miss, mirroring the longing that gnawed at your very insides.

" Is that what you really want?" he crooned, his warm breath caressing the shell of your ear. Your body trembled almost imperceptibly, aching for his touch, for the feel of his lips pressed against yours. The suspense was overwhelming, the promise of something delicious lingering precariously close.

"Yes," you replied breathlessly, trying to keep your desperation in check as, finally, he claimed your lips with his.  The taste of whiskey and tobacco lingered on his tongue, igniting new sensations within you. When he deepened the kiss, there was an intensity that resonated in the way his hands slid down your arms and then around your waist, like he couldn't bear to let you go.

The way Thomas kissed you—with a passion that felt unmatched, as if he had been searching for something in you and finally discovered a hidden key to unlock the door. The exhilarating feeling of his strong hands exploring your supple curves only added fuel to the fire that burned relentlessly inside of you, awakening your senses, making you feel more alive than ever.

As if he could sense the effect he had on you, Thomas pulled away, leaving you both breathless. 

"I am staying at the Dorchester," he revealed with a husky whisper, his gaze still locked on your flushed face. "And I want you to come with me tonight," Thomas urged softly, his voice thick with desire and unspoken promises.

But instead of immediately responding, you hesitated. After all, venturing off into the unknown could lead to thrilling experiences, but there was always a chance they might forever change your life as he would be your first. 

"Look at me," he whispered tenderly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I promise you; nothing will happen that you don't want to." His reassurance touched your heart as he leaned into gently place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Okay, so lead the way then," you murmured, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Your decision made, a shiver of excitement and anticipation raced through you.

You straightened your dress, smoothing out the creases as Thomas lead you down the dark alleyway towards the luxurious hotel that he was staying in, which was just a short stroll from the establishment you had just sung at.  

***

Several minutes later, you arrived  at the Dorchester, a magnificent building with an elegant exterior. Thomas held the door open for you, and you stepped into the grand foyer, your heels clicking against the marble floor.

You could feel the weight of the staff's curious gazes on you, as whispers filtered through the air, but Thomas paid them no mind, his hand rested securely on the small of your back as he guided you towards the elevator.

The doors slid open with a soft ding, and the pair of you stepped inside. Thomas slid his key into the slot and pressed the button for the penthouse suite.

The elevator ascended smoothly, and your heart raced with every floor that passed. When the door finally slid open, you stepped out into the luxurious penthouse, your eyes wide with awe at the opulence surrounding you.

Thomas walked over to the expansive windows, his hands thrust deep into his pockets as he took in the view of London below. You lingered behind, taking in the surroundings of the lavish room. The plush carpet felt soft under your heels, and the scent of fine leather and rich mahogany filled the air.

Tommy turned to face you, a sensual smile on his lips.

"What do you think, Love?" he asked, gesturing to the surroundings before approaching you and caressing your face. 

"I think it's perfect,"  you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, as you leaned into his touch.

Thomas leaned in, brushing his lips gently against yours, sending a wave of pleasure surging through your veins. You couldn't deny the chemistry that sizzled between you, nor could you resist the temptation of finally crossing the line that you had both been dancing around for so long.

The tension between you had been building for weeks, and it was a spark that was ready to ignite into a raging inferno. The connection you shared was magnetic, a force so powerful that it seemed impossible to resist.

"Fuck, Y/N," Thomas murmured against your lips, his voice low and gruff. "You have no idea how much I want you."

His hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heated desire in their wake. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your breasts, the silk dress you were wearing offering little protection against his touch.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as he slowly began to undo the buttons on your dress, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste to touch your naked skin.

"Tommy wait," you breathed, placing a hand on his chest to halt his movements. He looked at you, his eyes darkening with desire at the sound of your plea.

"What is it, Love?" he asked, his voice low and husky, filled with a barely restrained hunger that sent shivers running down your spine.

"I have never  done this before," you confessed, biting your lower lip nervously, as if the words tasted wrong on your tongue. Thomas paused, his hands stilling on your body as he looked at you with a tenderness that took your breath away.

"Do you want to stop?"  Thomas whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," you replied, your voice firm despite the nervous tremor that ran through it. "I want this. I want you," you assured him, your voice filled with conviction, as you looked deep into his eyes.

Thomas nodded, understanding dawning in his gaze before leaning down to capture your lips with his own. The kiss was slow and passionate, a promise of the pleasures to come. His hands returned to your buttons, finishing what he had started.

The dress opened, revealing the thin lace lingerie you wore underneath. Thomas trailed his fingers along the exposed skin, making you shiver with anticipation. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Thomas breathed, his eyes raking over your body.

He lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth through the lace fabric.

You gasped as his tongue swirled over the sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he continued to tease and tantalize you.

"Fuck," you breathed, your head falling back as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. "Please, Tommy, I need more."

Thomas raised his head, looking at you with dark, passion-filled eyes. "Begging already, Love?" he teased, a wicked smile twisting his lips as he finally guided you towards the large four poster bed. 

You didn't dignify that with a response, your gaze locked onto his as he slowly began to remove your clothing. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he painstakingly revealed inch after inch of your skin until you were left in nothing more than your panties.

"Lie down for me,"  Thomas commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. You obliged, your heart pounding in your chest as you sank back onto the cool sheets, your body bared for him.

He looked like a predator preparing to claim his prize, a dark and dangerous look in his eyes that made your insides clench with need. Slowly, deliberately, he began to strip off his own clothing.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the sight of him, the rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen, the hardness of his erection straining against the confines of his trousers. 

"I can't fucking wait to taste you, Love,"  Thomas growled, his eyes glinting with hunger as he crawled up the bed, settling himself between your legs.

He parted your thighs, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers brushed against the dampness of your panties.

"Fuck, Tommy," you whispered, writhing beneath him as he teased you, his movements slow and maddening. You could feel yourself growing wetter by the second, your desire for him reaching new heights.

"Please," you begged, arching your hips up towards him, desperate for release.

Thomas chuckled low in his throat, the sound reverberating through your entire body.

"God, you're impatient," he teased, his fingers dancing over your damp folds, lingering just outside of your entrance. You whimpered with frustration, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

"Tommy, please," you begged again, your voice trembling with desire. Thomas finally took mercy on you and pulled off your  soaked underwear, leaving you completely bared to him. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You're so fucking perfect," Thomas whispered, his voice filled with reverence. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a fierce determination that made your heart race before, finally, liking  the tip of his tongue over your entrance.

You cried out at the contact, your back arching off the bed as he began to tease and taste you, his movements slow and measured.

"Fuck," you gasped, your fingers desperately gripping the sheets beneath you as he sucked your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your breathing grew ragged, each breath sounding like a soft moan as he continued to worship you with his mouth, his tongue delving inside of you, tasting your sweetness.

Your hips bucked wildly, desperate for him to bring you closer to the edge, but Thomas had no intention of rushing. Every lick, every kiss he planted on your heated flesh was done with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Fuck, Tommy. This feels so good," you moaned, not knowing fully what was actually happening to you. You never felt like this before  ; this overwhelming wave of pleasure and desire, this sensation of losing control. It seemed to come from the depths of your very being, rising to the surface as your body trembled under Thomas's expert touch.

"God, you taste like heaven," Thomas growled, his voice thick with desire as he continued to explore you with his mouth. You could feel the orgasm building inside of you, the knot of pleasure growing tighter and tighter with each passing second.

Your breath hitched, your hands clenched into fists, and your toes curled with pleasure as Thomas continued to devour you.

Suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you panting and writhing on the bed, desperate for the release that had been just within your grasp. You looked down at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and desire.

"Why did you stop?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

"I want to feel you come apart on my cock, Love," he said, his voice rough and raw. You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation.

Slowly, Thomas crawled up your body, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he went. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting yourself on his lips. It was filthy and primal, and you couldn't get enough of it.

Thomas' body hovered over yours, his muscles rippling in the dim light of the room. He was a vision of masculinity and power, and you couldn't believe that he was here with you. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Open your legs, Love," Thomas growled, his voice deep and raw with desire. You complied, allowing him to settle between your thighs. He rubbed his cock against your wet folds, teasing you and making you gasp with pleasure.

Thomas was a master of anticipation, drawing out the moment until your body was trembling with need. 

"Go slow, please," you said, reminding him that you never had sex before .

There was a look of concern that crossed his face for a moment, but then he leaned down to kiss you with a passion that stole your breath away. His mouth devoured yours as his hands roamed your curves with reverence.

When he broke the kiss, Thomas whispered, "We don't have to if you, -" he began to say but you cut him off.  "I want to. I trust you," you replied, looking him in the eyes. A soft smile tugged at the corner of Thomas' lips before he nodded.

"I will go slow. I promise, Love,"  Thomas breathed the words against your lips before he reached down between your bodies to grip his cock. He guided it toward your entrance, teasing you by rubbing the head of his cock along your wet folds again.

You whimpered, your body trembling beneath him, begging for more.

Slowly, Thomas pushed inside of you, the feeling of your warmth enveloping him causing a low growl to rumble in his chest. You gasped at the sensation of him filling you up. It hurt, but it also felt so good.

" Oh God, Thomas..." you breathed out, digging your nails into his shoulders as he paused, allowing you to adjust to his size.

Thomas kissed you desperately, his tongue driving into your mouth as if he was trying to convey how much this moment meant to him. You tasted whiskey and something bitter, but that only turned you on more.

"You're so fucking tight, Love," Thomas grunted, his hips starting to move in slow, teasing thrusts that quickly gained intensity. Each plunge of his cock pushed you further up the bed, your body writhing beneath him.

Your breath caught in your throat as he hit a spot deep inside of you that triggered a wave of unparalleled pleasure. Thomas grinned against your neck, his thrusts quickening as he pressed his tongue against the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

"I can feel you, Love, clenching around me. It feels so fucking good," Thomas groaned. His hand snaked down your body, finding the swollen bud of your clit. He rubbed slow, gentle circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within your chest.

Your hips lifted off the bed in a desperate attempt to grind yourself against his fingers, but Thomas was relentless, his rhythm steady and unyielding.

"That's it, Love. Let go for me," Thomas coaxed, his voice strained with desire. He moved his hand from your clit, replacing it with his lips as he sought out the sweet spot just below your ear. "Come for me, Y/N."

 He had said your name, and the sound of it on his lips sent shivers down your spine.

With that, you let go, your orgasm rushing through you like a tidal wave. Your back arched off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under Thomas's powerful frame.

His thrusts grew more frantic as your inner muscles clenched around him, milking him for all that he had. The sensation of your warm release coating his cock triggered his own orgasm, and Thomas roared as he filled you up with hot jets of his seed.

He continued to thrust into you as you both came down from your highs, prolonging the exquisite pleasure that held you captive.

As you lay beneath him, limp and thoroughly satiated, Thomas rolled off of you and gathered you in his arms. He pulled you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin as he breathed in the scent of your hair.

"Fuck, Love," he muttered, his voice hoarse from the force of his release. "That was... incredible."

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

Your entire body still tingled from the mind-blowing orgasm Thomas had given you. You felt like putty in his arms, completely content and relaxed. Thomas brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, leaving a soft kiss in its place.

"You okay, Love?" he asked, concern etched on his face as he looked down at you. You nodded, still unable to find your voice. Thomas grinned, pride radiating from him.

"Good," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Y/N. The moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you."

You looked up at Thomas, your eyes meeting his as he spoke. His gaze was intense, and you could feel the desire simmering beneath the surface.

"No one can ever know about this, Tommy ," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I know, Love," he reassured you, his voice low and husky. "But I am going to struggle to keep my hands off you, Y/N." The way he said your name made your heart flutter. It was as if you were the only person in the world that existed to him. You knew you shouldn't feel this way about him, but you couldn't help yourself.

You stayed in his arms for what seemed like hours, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. The world outside of the penthouse room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of intimacy until, eventually, you fell asleep in Tommy's arms.

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[literatureloverx]

Could you make yandere prisoner fyodor x prisoner reader? From meursault arc??

Such a nice request! ♥️ (Also… I’m so sorry it took me so long!) I wrote a scenario since you didn’t specifically mention which format. ♥️

Fyodor x fem!reader

prisoner reader, Meursault arc, Fyodor being himself, yandere-ish (it’s Fyodor…).

Fyodor’s attention shifted from the pages of his book, his pale fingers pausing for the briefest of moments as his deep violet eyes settled on you. The words on the page blurred as his mind, sharp and calculating, turned toward the enigma that had appeared before him.

You were a curious thing, lost in a world that was not your own, fumbling in the shadows of a place like Meursault. He let his gaze linger, silently studying you—your delicate presence, standing out in a way that unsettled the grim, oppressive atmosphere of the prison.

Who are you?

You were not an ADA agent, that much was certain. And yet, you didn’t seem like someone who belonged here at all. The prison, with its cold, dark corners and the fetid stench of hopelessness, should have been a place for the irredeemable, the broken. But you? There was a spark in you, something that betrayed your outward appearance of meekness.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as you blinked, an ordinary enough action—but not quite. There was a pattern to it, a rhythm that immediately caught his attention. It wasn’t a simple blink of fatigue; no, it was something more deliberate. A message.

How quaint.

His lips curled into a barely perceptible smile, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. He watched, intrigued, as the message unfolded, the delicate taps of your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. Morse code.

He sat up a little straighter, his fingers lightly grazing the edges of the book he had abandoned, the pages still and silent now. His gaze never wavered from you.

Fyodor’s lips parted slightly as a cold smirk tugged at his mouth. How interesting. What could you possibly know about him to seek him out in this way?

His gaze hardened, as if savoring the challenge you had unwittingly placed before him. He could see through the cracks in your carefully constructed exterior—you were no ordinary prisoner.

No, you were here for him.

A cute little mouse, venturing into the den of a predator, unaware that it was already ensnared. There was a delicate beauty in your folly, a naïve courage that made him lean forward slightly, an ever-present amusement dancing in his eyes.

Every inch of him was drawn to the puzzle you presented. Your attempts to reach him, to break through the silence of this forsaken place, were not lost on him. And now that he had noticed, now that his attention was fixed on you, there was no escape.

He watched you, his gaze sharp as a blade, and let the silence stretch between you both, thick with unspoken words. You had invited him into your little game, and now it was his turn to decide how it would play out.

Oh, how delightful.

The air in the cell is heavy with tension, each breath you take a quiet, deliberate action, as you try to gather your thoughts. Fyodor’s gaze is unwavering, his violet eyes never leaving you. The silence between you stretches, thickening as he studies you, his fingers delicately brushing the edges of his book, as though the pages are no more than a mere distraction from the game unfolding before him.

You had hoped for a response, had silently prayed that your attempt at communication would not go unnoticed. And then, a subtle shift—his fingers move, tapping lightly against the wall. The pattern is familiar, the rhythmic beat a language you understand all too well.

Morse code.

Your heart skips a beat. He’s answering you.

You watch him intently, your breath shallow, as you try to keep up with his deliberate message. Each tap seems to echo louder in your mind, as if to remind you that this moment is unlike anything you’ve encountered before.

His message is calm, controlled, and yet, there’s an underlying thread of something more dangerous, more enticing. Your pulse quickens as the realization hits: he knows exactly what you’re trying to do.

You feel a chill run through you, but it’s not fear—it’s something far more complex, a curious sense of thrill. You had sought him out, reached through the silence to this man who felt so impossibly distant, and yet, now that he’s noticed, now that his attention is entirely fixed on you, you can’t bring yourself to look away.

And then, as if the tension in the room wasn’t enough, the door to the cell rattled open, revealing a new cell that seemed to materialise out of nowhere.

Your gaze shifts instinctively.

Dazai.

“Looks like I’ve found a little gathering. How delightful.”

Your heart races, and for the briefest of moments, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake by reaching out to them. But then, Fyodor’s fingers tap again, a soft rhythm against the stone wall, as though to remind you that the game is far from over.

His fingers tap once more, the sound sharp and deliberate. Let the game of prison break begin.

[huellitaa]

୭ 🎀🐈‍⬛🧁 about bee...

hiii! my name is bee ♡ and i'm a teenage disaster living in england with a rly rly big heart and rly rly big dreams . i really really really love things like fashion, philosophy, psychology, self growth, writing, poetry, journalism, girly things, music, blogging, websurfing, pinterest boarding, playlist making, crafting, decorating,,,, i could go on!!! ♡ 💭🫶🏼🩷

i really love to think and to speak and to sing (even if i'm not very good at it) and to try and to fail and to get back up again and learn from my mistakes and come back better and more beautiful than before. some random notes about me are that i play drums, guitar, and keyboard, i have obsessive compulsive disorder and segmental heterochromia, and i also have not slept a night without a plushie since i was born . i also love my friends and my family with all my heart ♡

── my interests ✧˚. ᵎᵎ 👛🐈‍⬛.⋆｡‧

♡ self improvement as a whole ♡ anything 2 do with sanrio! ♡ gyaru fashion and styles ♡ tomorrow x together ♡ ♡ my little pony ♡ ♡ fashion journalism ♡ 2000's girly kpop like kara, girls generation, wonder girls, etc. ♡ music of any genre & musical history ♡ writing long and complex documents to hide in my google drive ♡

♡ ashnikko, pierce the veil, kali uchis, the marías, millionares, pinkpantheress, ive, avril lavigne, 6arelyhuman, mariah carey, gwen stefani, tommy february6, paramore, jazmin bean, wave to earth, nicole dollanganger, nessa barrett, elita

♡ death note, nana, madoka magica, jujutsu kaisen, louis theroux documentaries, bratz 2005, monster high, gilmore girls, gossip girl, inside job ♡

♡ draculaura, l lawliet, georgina sparks, pinkie pie, my melody, madoka kaname ♡ ♡ working on my many projects ♡ ♡ full metal alchemist (brotherhood) ♡

♡ shushucherry, vivienne westwood, angelic pretty, ma*rs, juicy couture ♡ florence & the machine ♡ ♡ lord of the rings (movies, books, & games; shadow of mordor)

♡ any type of magazine (irl or digital)

♡ old gothic literature (particularly h.p. lovecraft and bram stoker's dracula!!!!!! ♡) ♡ decorating, painting and creating

♡ ada lovelace & marilyn monroe ♡ ♡ the witcher (games, books and series) ♡ music journalism ♡

talk 2 me about any of these and i'll love you forever .i'm so serious

── my hobbies ✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🧁🐧.⋆｡‧

♡ websurfing ♡ girlblogging ♡ painting

♡ dancing ♡ coding ♡ decorating

♡ singing ♡ video games

♡ scrapbooking ♡ studying and learning ♡ playing instruments ♡ wandering the lines between morality's many faces ♡ pondering the lost and the forgotten

── my signatures ✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🧸🩰.⋆｡‧

♡ heart dotted i's ♡ lalaloopsies ♡ (un)fashionably late ♡ cutesy hairclips ♡ black cat emojis ♡ frilled ribbons ♡ paint smudges ♡ handdrawn penguins ♡ lots of keychains

── my favourites ✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🫶🏼🎀.⋆｡‧

(in no particular order ,, i love all of u guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!♡)

♡ @raym0ri my gorgeous gorgeous girlfriend,, my beautiful wife with their beautiful artworks and beautiful whimsy

♡ @sillyeveline my siamese twin and my bestest best firned ever !!!!!!!!!! (1/2) gorgeous goth girl best friend and misa irl

♡ @ngtvcr33p my bestest best best friend ever!!!!!!!!!! (2/2) silly hannibal enjoyer and #1 trashy teen boy. also the bunny ever

♡ @jiraipill cal's wife, american in denial and a very sily farm angel .we love her

♡ all my beautiful mutuals!!!!!!11 i love u guys so much♡

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Sara Nović for The Guardian:

Twelve days before Donald Trump took office, Charlie Kirk, media personality and rightwing activist, complained on his eponymous show about the presence of American Sign Language (ASL) interpreters at emergency press briefings for the Los Angeles fires. Another rightwing activist, Christopher Rufo, took his cue on X, calling interpreters “wild human gesticulators” who turned briefings into a “farce”. The rightwing theorist and Origins of Woke author Richard Hanania, quote-tweeting Rufo, declared ASL interpretation an “absurdity”. Around this time, Elon Musk was skulking around the platform, campaigning to bring back the R-word. Use of the slur tripled on X after his post. To those with less knowledge of disability history, these attacks might read as gross, but ultimately toothless. Activists, though, quickly sounded the alarm: the incoming administration would be coming for disabled people. “To the deaf community, the fight for accessibility is nothing new,” said Sara Miller, deaf educator and community advocate. However, Miller said she had seen a burgeoning movement against accessibility from conservatives with large platforms, including during the first Trump administration, when the National Association of the Deaf had to sue to have ASL interpreters during 2020 Covid briefings. “But when looking at the history of the first term of [the Trump] administration, and currently how diversity, equity, inclusion and accessibility (DEIA) is being targeted, it’s not hard to see the correlation.”

Manufacturing cultural outrage to justify policy that would have previously been considered too cruel or damaging is a staple of the far-right playbook: most recently, the US has seen the move used to bolster book bans and outlaw Black history and gender-affirming care. The play-by-play is always the same: social media followers take their marching orders, hurling discontent at the specified targets and regurgitating talking points. Eventually, the ideas become so ubiquitous they are adopted by politicians who use them to engage their base. Finally, the talking point becomes the policy itself, and politicians claim they have a mandate from the people to justify stripping away the rights of the marginalized. Fast forward to 21 January 2025, when the accessibility page and all ASL content were removed from the White House website. Then, real-life interpreters were removed from the White House and across multiple federal agencies whose accommodations divisions were dismantled under Trump’s anti-DEIA orders.

Alongside “diversity” and “women”, words like “accessibility” and “disability” have also been listed as grounds to flag or reject grant applications at the National Science Foundation, sparking concerns at other federal agencies and research institutions. And last week, the Department of Justice, which is charged with enforcing the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), began to rescind key guidance, justifying the move by suggesting that accessibility is the reason for cost-of-living increases. Simultaneously, disabled children’s right to education is under fire. On 20 March, Trump signed an executive order to dismantle the Department of Education. Earlier in March, secretary of education, Linda McMahon, laid off over 1,300 people – nearly half the department – eliminating seven regional offices, large swaths of the department’s office of civil rights, as well as parts of the office of special education and rehabilitative services, though she had previously said those programs wouldn’t be affected. Twenty-one attorneys general filed a suit over the layoffs, arguing they were “illegal and unconstitutional”.

The education department funds early intervention and post-high school transition programs, and organizations like the American Printing House for the Blind and the Special Olympics. It also enforces the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, the law that gives disabled kids the right to a “free and appropriate public education”. A child’s needs and services are documented in a legally binding agreement known as an Individualized Education Program, providing services like speech, physical and occupational therapy, and the use of specialized curriculum. Accommodations like closed captions, ASL interpreters, ramps and elevator keys, braille materials, preferential seating, audio books, use of a laptop or notetaker, and movement breaks can also be included.

Without these plans, disabled students may be inside the classroom, but they will not be meaningfully educated. Now the director of the office of special education position is vacant.

[...] Leaving disabled people behind is not new to the American political landscape; the US has a history of eradicating the disabled. Eugenics – the pseudoscientific belief that humans should breed for “desirable traits” and suppress the undesirable ones – rose to popularity in the US and globally during the late 19th century.

The first eugenics-based law in the world was passed in the US: Indiana’s 1907 Act to Prevent the Procreation of Confirmed Criminals, Idiots, Imbeciles and Rapists targeted disabled people in state schools and institutions and incarcerated people by mandating sterilization for “criminals, idiots, rapists and imbeciles in state custody”. The Nazis would go on to praise the US’s codified eugenics and racism in their 1934 handbook. In Germany, the convergence of two mass-disabling events – the Spanish flu pandemic and the first world war – wreaked economic strife, the rationing of food and medicine, and overcrowding in institutions and long-term hospitals. Calls from the German eugenicists to stamp out what they called “life unworthy of life” began in the 1920s, even before Hitler came to power.

By 1933, the magazine Volk und Rasse was publishing a variety of eugenics propaganda, including a political cartoon featuring images of large moneybags labeled “a slow learner”, “the educable mentally ill”, and “blind or deaf-born schoolchildren” bore the caption: “This illustration depicts the burden of maintaining the socially unfit.” That same year, a law called for compulsory sterilization of those with “hereditary diseases” including deafness, blindness, schizophrenia, epilepsy, bipolar disorder, chronic alcoholism and a host of other conditions. A 1935 expansion of the law required mandatory abortions on the fetus of a parent with one of the listed conditions. Approximately 400,000 disabled people were sterilized in Germany and annexed territories during this period.

More extensive propaganda campaigns declaring disabled people as “useless eaters” were launched through various media in Germany. The arts, including in literature, documentaries and narrative film, posed a solution: mercy killings. As Mark P Mostert outlines in his 2002 article “Useless Eaters,” one particularly popular 1941 movie, I Accuse, caused a spike in the belief that euthanasia was an act of kindness toward disabled people. In the film, a a man euthanizes his beautiful, disabled wife as an act of love, asking the court: “Would you, if you were a cripple, want to vegetate forever?” The court acquits; the movie’s final scenes declare “love is medicine”. Support for euthanasia among Germans exploded, writes Mostert, and the first disabled people were euthanized at the behest of their families, who had bought the party line that killing their loved ones would be an act of grace. In 1939, Hitler created an advisory committee to oversee the state’s first official program for the killing of disabled children, whose murders began en masse that year.

The program quickly expanded to encompass multiple killing sites, as well as disabled adults across German territories, through the program Aktion T4. The Nazi gas chambers were perfected using disabled people. There, officials first created the cover story that “patients” were being sent to take a shower, where they were poisoned with carbon monoxide gas and sent to crematoriums. When carbon monoxide proved too slow, the methodology for gassing via cyanide-based Zyklon B was tested and fine-tuned on disabled people.

The Guardian has a well-done article on the Trump Administration (and right-wing media)'s war on disability rights.

[storiesofsvu]

WIP Roundup!

Alright, I've completely cleaned out the inbox and deleted "all" messages that I didn't respond to/that were "ghost" messages driving me insane saying they were there when they weren't.

Which ALSO means I've gone through my entire WIP folder and narrowed things down. Some got deleted, some I'm going to sit on for a little bit and see if something sparks, others I went through and added nearly 3000 words of blurbs/notes/ideas on how the fic is gonna go. The creativity is *flowing* so here's what we're working with now!

Addison Montgomery: A twist on the Seattle Grace prom ep. This time it's Addi off in an on call room cheating. She knows she shouldn't, that it's wrong and tells reader this, who agrees with a laugh. Problem is Addi knows it's not gonna be the last time. Amanda Rollins: her girl is supposed to be her gambling good luck charm. Amanda's not very happy when she ends up being someone else's and takes her home to be punished. Barhoun: 1 angst piece delving into one version of how/why they break up for good. Why things would never workout between them. 1 poly!fic where they frequent a high end sex club in the city and see a little timid thing that needs *guidance* (will end up w multiple parts) 1 poly! pure smut fic where they've both had long weeks and need someone to take it out on. Alex Blake: a minor hurt major comfort piece. Reader is hosting the team for post case drinks, but the case hit hard and she gets incredibly overwhelmed with the environment in her apartment. Blake is the one she trusts and wants around. Sonny Carisi: 1 hurt/comfort of him having to deal w his cop wife being undercover. He's now the ada and can't be on scene to help her/protect her and man does he ever hate that. 1 hurt/comfort potentially related to s26. Sonny needs someone, he needs to be comforted and taken care of by someone he trusts completely, someone he can relinquish all control to. CM Ladies: 1 comfort of reader coming out as bi/coming to terms with it and feeling a little bit insecure about it because she's only dated/been with men. Reassurance from the rest of the girls 1 mega smut club sandwich: Reader is friends with JJ, she's casually dated a couple other members of the team over the years and everything is on good terms. When she gets invited out for a night of drinks she meets the newest team member and is conflicted about how her night will end. Naturally, one of the girls comes up with a much spicier idea. One that reader doesn't need to make a choice. Elizabeth Donnelly: 1 mini series where Liz's relatively new gf starts to see the way other prosecutors act around her gf, how often Liz drops things to attend to their needs and how much she mentors them. She starts to get jealous/insecure about it and their relationship, wondering if she's enough or if Liz deserves/wants more. Emily Prentiss: 1 hurt/comfort in s17. Instead of getting high, emily devolves even more as she starts to spin out. It's only when reader shows up to yank her out of it that she finally gets a reality check from someone who cares and is worried about her. 1 smut. a continuation of "Seventeen" if you will, where em has tried to be good and play by the rules but she can't help it. Work's been busy and she's *needy* Olivia Benson: 1 mommy!olivia smut 1 that's a 5 times + 1 style of Olivia secretly dating Elliot's younger sister. Sara Kingsley: 1 either multi part-er or a 5 times where Sara has a crush but doesn't want to admit it. Joe Velasco: a 5 times one i've been working on for ages. Where he and reader have been sleeping together for a while but are in denial of all feelings and pretending their fling is a secret when.. yeah... everybody knows.

There's 20 all together in my WIP folder, but some I am sitting on to see if they develop something that might be deleted so I didn't include them.

That gives you a nice idea of what style/who is in the wip folder and what y'all have to look forward to!

Requests remain OPEN, so feel free to check out my pinned post and prompt lists to get some ideas. I generally DO like to get more than just the prompt as a request, send me even just a pretty vague setting/thought/what kind of situation they're in/how they got there. It helps me come up with someone more and there's a higher chance of it not getting deleted further down the road lol.

Happy Wednesday! <3

[caramelloss]

Hihi ada! I really love ur blog and I'm keeping up with all of ur polls for the new fanfic! Any ideas for the title yet?

hi!! i love u so much thank you!!! why don't i just be super nice and tell you the names of the chapters as well; they're more creative then the title! just to note, once my last poll hit 350 votes, i chose the option with the highest percent. i know the poll lasts for 24hrs, but in order to produce a chapter by tomorrow i had to be quick with the decision. alsoooo since you guys truly blew up the polls, and the tag list blog, here's some little sneak peaks to what chapters feature some characters..! TO PREFACE!: no characters will die until each character has had a chance to form a bond with reader. also i must admit this fic may end up being around 12 chapters, so please, if your fav character isn't here yet, they will be. also, there will be small romantic moments shared between reader and other characters no matter what character the chapter focuses on. i will unfortunately have to stop after chapter 5 though, because too much would be spoiled about the fic.. but, i love you!!

"the book of the last blood witch"

chapter one; 'the emperor has no clothes' – this chapter focuses on reader's backstory. how she lost her coven, and how she survived without them. reader, in a moment of grief, will not drink the blood she needs to live on. death (rio vidal) will save her, for a price. because of this deal, many years down the line, rio calls in her chit.. this is how reader will end up on the witches road.

chapter two; 'first impressions never last' – reader will meet the coven, which will consist of lilia calderu, alice wu gulliver, rio vidal, agatha harkness, jennifer kale, and billy kaplan. sharon will have died at this point, so the first trial will be complete, and wanda will not appear yet. reader will attempt to keep her identity as a blood witch hidden; but it will ultimately be revealed by agatha in spite. as the coven turns against reader, one witch in particular sides with her. the coven begins their journey further down the road, and suspicions rise among the witches as to what you're really doing on the road.

chapter three; 'dreaming of silver curls' - in this chapter, we have a time skip between the campfire and the middle of the night. reader finds herself unable to sleep, and wanders around outside of her tent (they have tents). lilia has a vision of a kiss between herself and reader. it causes her to stir awake. reader, unaware, stares off at the moon and thinks of her coven. lilia, unable to sleep again, joins reader. reader confesses to lilia that she doesn't want to be there, and that she shouldn't even be alive. the two witches bond, and share an intimate, yet comforting moment. the chapter progresses as the coven reaches the next trial, which is alice's trial. after lilia is burned by the curse, reader is sentimental and protective towards her. lilia finds it endearing, but she doesn't say so, too aware of the coven's feelings about reader. reader takes this personally, avoiding the older witch. when everyone is asleep, and you can't seem to find peace of mind, much like before, lilia joins you, knowing you'd be there. the chapter ends with lilia and rio defending you once agatha tries to convince the witches to kill you or leave you behind.

chapter four; 'you were better off in the dark' - this chapter will be shorter. it will be an intermittent one where reader talks about her experiences as a blood witch, telling the coven who she is, what happened to her sisters, and why rio brought her on the road. this sparks an emotional response from rio; something that will build later in the story. your relationship with the coven changes, and your bond with lilia becomes stronger. another witch on the road takes a liking to you, and you find that you and her have a lot in common.

chapter five; 'nimble fingers and quick wit'- the following morning, the salem seven attacks. in your attempt to flee, you and this witch exchange brooms. the coven is pulled down to the road when flying, but alice, (the witch you trade brooms with) is caught by two of the salem seven witches. the rest of the coven doesn't notice as they run from the threat, but you do. agatha yells for you to come into the trial, but you choose to save alice. agatha closes the doors, and you use your blood manipulation to deal with the two members of the salem seven. you save alice, and she learns a new fault of your power. she saves you by giving up a part of herself. you two make your journey through the woods to find the end of the trial, where you both talk, touch, and even confess. as the witches exit the road, and you're caught with alice, rio gets angry. it causes a lot of issue to the coven, because of what she does.

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2025 Round-Up Post | Week 2

On Sundays during our posting period, we won't post a new work, instead you have time to catch up with the works that posted during the week and hopefully leave lovely comments for our creators.

Happy reading, commenting and sharing! ;)

~Your LCDrarry Mods

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information. Thank you!

PPS: Please share far and wide! Thank you!!

~~~

Podfic

~~~

When Harry Met Draco by emmettsforest

Prompt: "Stardust", 2007 Written by: emmettsforest Narrated by: Anonymous Length: 3:39:49 Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: A long-timeline story of Harry and Draco post-war, inspired by and with homages to When Harry Met Sally. Will they? Won't they? Buckle up, baby!

Listen to it now on AO3.

~~~

Art

~~~

[ART] From a Little Spark May Burst a Flame

Prompt: "Promare", 2019, Hiroyuki Imaishi Prompted by: @Fantalf Artist: Anonymous Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None

Summary: Harry Potter, a survivor of a burnish attack, has lived his whole life seeking justice for his parents and all the people that the burnish have hurt. However, his encounters as a new recruit of the Burning Rescue team lead him to doubt the preconceived notions he has of the enemy, especially after a chance-meeting with one Draco Malfoy.

View it now on AO3.

~~~

Fic

~~~

what could this thing possibly do?

Prompt: "Zombieland", 2009, Ruben Fleischer Prompted by: Gnarf Authors: Anonymous Word Count: 2,519 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply.

Summary: Draco works with muggle artifacts, Harry is bored, and they end up inside of a zombie film.

Read it now on AO3.

~~~

The Little Merman

Prompt: "The Little Mermaid", 1989, Ron Clements, John Musker Prompted by: Anonymous Authors: Anonymous Word Count: 5,286 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply.

Summary: Draco Malfoy as Ariel in this Little Mermaid inspired HP AU! Harry as a Prince, Voldemort as Ursula and some interesting twists to the Little Mermaid story as well. Also Draco just doesn't want to be a merman, he doesn't feel like it is who he is. So he doesn't just change for love. Though a hot prince definitely helps.

Read it now on AO3.

~~~

Love is All Around

Prompt: "Four Weddings and a Funeral", 1994, Mike Newell Prompted by: Anonymous Authors: Anonymous Word Count: 24,266 words Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply.

Summary: Everyone is getting married, except for Harry. Over the course of five social occasions he figures out how to change that.

Read it now on AO3.

~~~

Treat me like a dog, Take me out back, Tell me that my hunting days are done

Prompt: "Crazy Rich Asians", 2018, Jon M Chu Prompted by: Anonymous Authors: Anonymous Word Count: 29,271 words Rating: General Audience Warnings: Canon compliant racism, One (1) dead fish

Summary: What is lineage, if not a gold thread of pride and guilt. The Hurting Kind, Ada Limon.

A.K.A The Drarry Crazy Rich Asians retelling in which everyone learns that to get what you need does not mean that you get what you want.

Read it now on AO3.

~~~

Will Do So Gently

Prompt: "The Last Of Us", 2023 Prompted by: Anonymous Authors: Anonymous Word Count: 138,444 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Depictions of war, bombing, heavy angst

Summary: Following a coup organised by Voldemort, England's society collapses. Initial attempts by the government to regain power are thwarted by Death Eaters, and a rebellion group called ‘The Order’ forms to fight against them. The country divides, people flee, and those left are trying their best to survive. Draco Malfoy, raised since birth to believe in Voldemort, grows wiser with age and abandons his home after he realises the terror Voldemort intends to inflict on the world. Afraid of what The Order might do to a marked Death Eater, he goes into hiding where he remains for years until Harry Potter finds him and sparks his long-lost will to fight. Their paths separate, and Draco goes out to join The Order or die trying, not realising that his Death Eater status will be the least of his concerns when he arrives.

Read it now on AO3.

~~~

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

Creator reveals are on 1 June 2025.

[starlightshadowsworld]

This one’s a bit of a rant about characters I don’t like soo feel free to scroll if you like (Bsd Fyodor, Beast Dazai and Bsd Fukuchi.)

I really hope Fyodor doesn’t just become the Beast Dazai of this show. Like I’ll take the absolute psychological beat down of my precious boy Atsushi.

So long as the guy giving it isn’t fucking boring.

That’s my biggest issue with these two btw they’re so surface level deep without being actually being that deep.

Fyodor thinks he’s giving mysterious, intelligent, wild card villian energy. But he’s just a weirdo who can’t seem to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about.

What is it Fyodor? Do you want the book? Do you want Dazai? Or do you want to go home and take a nap alone?

Pick a lane and stick to it.

Like both of them are trying to be Dazai so bad and failing at it which is kinda funny because one of them is a Dazai.

And I know I haven’t read the Day I picked up Dazai so I’m probably missing things and I really shouldn’t be judging him yet.

But I will.

He basically gave us the spark notes version and he’s not a character I care about to look deeper at this time.

And me personally I feel like removing Dazai from the ADA entirely (in a way that’s not something set in the past) loses a lot of his complexity and why I like his character so much.

He’s someone who doesn’t see the difference between light and dark but chooses the light because of the words of an old friend.

He wants to die and surrounds himself with people who are clinging to life with both hands. And he’s fascinated by them and he cares for them so deeply.

That he’d do anything to protect and care for them.

And yes this attitude is shown in Beast towards Oda but it’s like oh you’re gonna forsake everyone else you care about just for him?

And that’s not even a hard decision for you??? Like I can fathom the Akutagawa stuff…but Atsushi? And no him sending him away at the end doesn’t make up for that all.

Also I’m team you could’ve just still befriended Oda in this universe and made an alliance with the Agency but okay.

He’s just bad because he is but he cares for one person. He and Chuuya are no longer equals and he tortures Atsushi for reasons that don’t even matter to the wider plot.

Cool I hate him.

Like at least Fukuchi (who I also hate) is at least an interesting character. There’s a lot you can pull on from this disillusioned hero who destroys everyone around him for peace.

Even if his plan is also stupid and this day that ending monologue…wow.

So yeah Fyodor you better give me something because at this point you’re only interesting because there’s no once else available.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 62: Don't Count On my Sympathy

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Surely Ada is exaggerating Thomas’ reaction to my coldness. If he’s survived this long on the love of whores and Lizzie then there is no reason for him to act so hurt. 

I’m really doing this. Driving to the home of the man who broke my life. Arrow House is straight ahead, pale against the dim gray morning light. Even after all these years they still kept my Bentley in good shape. Another reminder of Thomas’ financial perks.

In no more than ten seconds after I park there’s a familiar sound of scampering footsteps.

“Hello, Charlie!” I smile as the young Shelby runs up the hill.

“Venna!” His face lights up and he tackles my legs for a hug. “You’re back!”

“Yes I am, dierbaar jongen. My my, you have grown so much!”

He giggles when I try to ruffle his hair and continues running to the house. “I’ve got violin practice now.”

“Oh! I won’t keep you, then. Go on!”

In one hand I grip the briefcase Ada sent with me. The very reason why I’m forced to be here. With my other hand I feel the comforting cross around my neck again. Lord, please give me patience-

What’s that?

Something white in an empty muddy field catches my eye. It’s very faint. Is that a person…? It’s a cross. Off in the distance, a giant wooden cross stands a single cross with familiar clothes. Thomas’ clothes. And the man himself is standing across from it. What is that? Is it supposed to be a mockery of faith? How dare-!?

Bang! Bang! Bang! Thomas lifts up a gun and blasts the clothes to shreds, causing sparks to scatter. What the Hell?! I drop the briefcase and break into a sprint. What the Hell is happening?! I nearly stumble and trip down the hill and by the time I reach the fence my dress is splattered in mud. Is he trying to kill himself-?!

Ka-boom!

A giant explosion rips a crater open in the field, sending dirt and rock flying everywhere. A blast of fire clouds over Thomas and I give a loud shriek. My stomach drops. He really was trying to die…

And he still lives. The cloud of ash lifts and Thomas walks back across the field, covered in mud. I nearly scream again. How can he look so- so… calm?! How far has his mind spiraled since I’ve been gone?

“What the Hell was that?!” I yell at the top of my lungs, my eyes nearly bulging out.

Across the dirty field, Thomas spots me as he walks closer and immediately panics.

“Verena? Fuck! Why are you-?”

“I come here to get your signature and this is what you’re doing?!" I screech and stand my ground. "What the Hell happened?!”

Thomas walks through the gate and looks me up and down with wild eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know! Just please-” He desperately grips my shoulders. “Please stay off this place. Now… What do you need signed? Wait, wait. I’ve got a call to respond to.”

He takes off towards the house, leaving me speechless and confused as to what to think of this. Did he rig that cross to explode? Was it a trap? A warning? I swear if there’s another bloody vendetta I’m going to punch him clean in the face! Reluctantly, I follow Thomas’ muddy footprints and retrieve the briefcase before going inside.

Grrrr.

A brown mutt walks out from the dining room, alerted to my presence. I calmly let him smell my hand. He doesn’t look too harmless. Since when did Thomas get a dog-?

“That’s Cyril,” Charlie beams from another doorway.

“He’s very charming,” I smile as the mutt wanders to the small boy. “You must be done with your lesson. Aunt Ada also told me you speak Rokka, Charlie?”

He nods. “Bits and pieces. Do you still speak Dutch?”

“Yes, I’m learning. You should be very proud of yourself for holding onto your heritage.”

Another set of footsteps echo down the stairs and I look up to see a little girl with dark hair. When she sees me she freezes and watches me as if I just threatened to shoot Cyril. She's Lizzie’s daughter, for sure. She has her eyes. And her look of judgement.

“And you must be Ruby!” I kneel down and offer a friendly wave.

“Hello,” Ruby says shyly. “What’s your name?”

“This is Veena,” Charlie introduces me. “She’s fun.”

Someone else steps down and now Lizzie herself joins us, wearing a very fancy fur stole. A vast contrast to my filthy dress and simple hair braids. She puts a protective hand on Ruby and looks down at me with the same lowly expression from four years ago. I should have been more prepared to feel her smug victory over me.

“Hello, Ms. Steenstra.”

I show no sign of friendly acknowledgement. “Mrs. Shelby.” 

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Why are you here?”

“Straight to the point, I see,” I quip and hold up the briefcase. “I’m here because Mr. Shelby has some papers to sign, ASAP.”

“What about me?” Charlie whines.

“And I’m here for you too, Charlie,” I assure him with a wink, then turn back to Lizzie with another cold glare. “I am not staying in England for long. Mr. Shelby is currently in the middle of a call but as soon as he is finished I will swiftly accomplish my ordeal with him.”

Lizzie, not amused by my agenda to conduct my visit as quickly as possible, leads Ruby back upstairs. At least Grace eventually let me interact with Charlie. I probably won’t ever be able to talk to Ruby again.

Charlie interrupts my thoughts by skipping over to wait by his vader’s office door. “I’m going to show him what I learned today!”

He proudly holds up the violin he’s holding and I almost chuckle to think of Thomas subjecting his kids to musical practice. Intriguing. Would Thomas ever learn to play music himself?

I lean my head to the door, hearing the phone being set down. Good. Time to get things over with.

Knock knock.

“Come!” Thomas’ voice booms through the door.

I enter slowly, deeply trying to forget about the last time I was in this room, and spot Thomas leaning against his desk. He looks like the walking dead. Lasting remains of mud still stain his white shirt. However, Charlie ignores his vader's troubled state and goes to stand at the center of the room.

“He has something to show you,” I tell Thomas. “Then you-”

“I know, I’ll sign.”

Charlie grips his violin and smiles. “I learned something today!”

Thomas, as usual, holds a whiskey. “So did I. And what have you learned, my boy?”

Charlie brings the bow to the instrument. A screech of strings pinches my ears and I do my best to not cringe. The young boy carries out the thankfully quick Hellish melody and Thomas sits blankly across from him. Perhaps the terrors conspiring inside Thomas’ head are horrendous enough to drown out any outside noise.

“Good start, Charlie,” I praise after Thomas fails to speak. “Why don’t you go get yourself ready for supper, eh?”

He nods eagerly and scampers off. I set down my briefcase and wave a hand in front of Thomas’ eerily quiet face.

“Here are the papers.”

Thomas blinks at me and seems to remember where he is. He slowly stands up and goes to grab a pen from his desk. Time to fire the next shot.

“I am also here for my next payment.”

A quick flash of anger colors Thomas’ eyes but it’s replaced by another blank stare. “‘S that why you came back?”

“For the sake of my familie, yes.”

“Are you sure?”

My eyes narrow and my jaw tightens. If he thinks he can guilt-talk me out of this he is dead wrong. I came for my familie and nothing else.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I respond firmly and reroute the subject. “I also heard about what happened to Finn. Please tell me you’re going to talk to him. He’s not the same man from two years ago. He’s becoming just like you. Drinking, chatting up girls, going in guns a-blazing. It’s-!”

“I will,” Thomas says evenly as he signs the documents. “Arthur and I are going to sit him down tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” The shadow of a smirk crosses my mouth. “How did your chat with Mr. Dixon go?”

Thomas takes another drink. “Your country has some of the oddest people. Half the time he wanted to talk about guns and mixing moonshine instead of actual business. I left him to some associates in London. Did your dad really make him come with you?”

“When you’re a single woman traveling alone it’s considered proper to be escorted, according to my parents. Now that I am here I plan to do things my way.”

I hold out my hand expectantly. Thomas hands me the papers and I store them away in the briefcase. Next he passes me a handsome stack of bills. There. Done and done. Now I can tell Ada I talked to him, sort of, and don’t have to see him again-

“Another thing,” Thomas calls once I’m halfway across the room. “Have you been in contact with Michael?”

Despite the raging voice telling me to flee from him, I turn around to face Thomas once more with a lazy head shake. “No. I’ve stuck to the west side of Michigan and practically avoided him, honestly. He’s grown just as arrogant.”

“Yet you still agree to work for us,” Thomas points out as he lights another cigarette.

Stay calm, Steentstra. “Now that the depression is underway, what choice do I have? Anything I earn goes to my familie.”

“Hm. Well, do not trust Michael. That call just told me he was making deals to kill me.”

“Sweet Jesus-!” I gasp and stop myself short.

Nothing could prepare me for this! I’m supposed to distance myself from Thomas, not panic over another death threat! Calm the Hell down, Verena!

“Now don’t get your skirt in a bunch, love,” Thomas implores. “‘S for me to handle, eh? Did you ever notice any strange transactions from Ireland?”

I shake my head. “My uncle would have told me. If you doubt it then you can talk with him yourself.”

“Alright. I might.” Thomas gets a look that says he’s lost in thought again and waves me off. “Now go play with Charlie before he starts whining again. He missed you.”

I slip over to the door and offer one last remark, a sort-of peace offering. “Ruby’s a darling, too.”

“That she is,” Thomas murmurs and looks at me again. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

No no no! Get out, get out. Lizzie’s going to have my head just for him suggesting that! I’m supposed to get paid and leave-!

“I do not think I will be welcomed by all-”

“Lizzie and Ruby have been staying in the Midland Hotel,” Thomas explains and takes another puff on his cigarette. “‘S just me, Charlie, and Frances.”

So their marriage isn’t so peachy after all. Lizzie finally realized what she dug herself into. Say no. Say no! Thomas knows I want no part of his life anymore. Even though it is nice to see Charlie again…

“One hour.” I hold up a finger. “One hour, and then I’m gone.”

Before Thomas can react I slip through the door and back down the familiar hallway. A few maids give me quiet greetings but for the most part the house is empty. So this is the life you wanted, Thomas? It’s awfully lonely.

“Hello again, Charlie!” I announce when I spot the boy sitting at the long dining table.

His face scrunches with hopeful confusion. “Are you staying for supper?”

“For tonight, yes.”

I take a seat next to him and take a moment to observe the young Shelby. He’s definitely grown up. Instead of a boyish carefree smile Charlie has traded it for a rigid frown. Oh, Thomas. You’re turning your son into yourself. 

A deep whistling sound draws my attention to the window. Outside a strong wind blows fiercely across the pastures. Dark clouds churn overhead, drowning out the little sunlight that’s left of the day. The dark skeletons of the leafless trees sway and stand as ghostly figures left to the imagination.

“It looks really spooky outside,” I observe mysteriously, playing at Charlie’s remaining curiosity.

He shrugs. “That’s appropriate for this time of year.”

I try again. “Do you know about the Samhain celebration, Charlie?”

His eyes widen. “What’s that?”

Bingo!

“It’s a Celtic tradition celebrating the autumn harvest. It was last week on October 31, between the fall equinox and the winter solstice. I went to Belfast last year for the Samhain festival and it was incredible!”

In the corner of my eye I see Thomas appear. He silently makes his way to the end of the table and takes a seat. He's changed into clean clothes. As if on cue, a couple servants appear with trays of food. My first instinct is to stand up and help but then I remind myself I’m not in America anymore. Things are still done differently here.

“So you still celebrate Samhain even though you’re American?” Charlie asks after a few bites of pork.

“Yes. Samhain can be a very spiritual time for me. It’s believed to be a period when spirits can cross over and interact with the living.”

Thomas stops eating for a second. Does speaking with the dead intrigue him? Maybe reconciling with spirits is one way to deal with yourself. And I need to deal with myself before I start feeling sorry for him again.

“Thank you for having me,” I start off and stand up from the table. “But I’m afraid that I need to be going.”

“Really?” Charlie grumbles but doesn’t dare to complain more in front of his vader.

Thomas keeps quiet but watches me leave with noticeable emotionless eyes. One hour, Thomas. That’s all I will allow to make up for nearly four years of absence. After what I’ve seen today it’s not only my life that’s changed. Thomas, Lizzie, Charlie. They’re different. Even Ruby seems different than a normal girl. Not that I would expect any Shelby to be normal.

As I begin the drive back to Birmingham I can’t help but wonder if the Shelbys were right. Do I really have such an influence? That my presence helps in more ways than one? How have things become so gloomy in the past years? Well, now there is a depression to add to this and it will confuse my thoughts even harder.

@meadows5

[nevermorgue]

dancing troupe AU. Lenore used to be a duo with her brother until his death and her injury. She ends up going into a pretty depressing slump until she meets Annabel Lee, a beautiful ballet dancer. She happens to be signed under a troupe that tried to get her and her brother to join them for years.

Feeling challenged and that spark for dance returning to her, she opens her own place to manage. Her goal is to continue what her brother eventually wanted to do, as well as convince Annabel Lee to come to her once she’s gotten successful.

Lenore ends up getting Duke, a tapping prodigy and Pluto, a talented contemporary dancer that has never performed outside of a rehearsal space to join her company. Her plan is to have them do a fantastic duo show to gather more attention and more recruits, taking the time to get Pluto’s stage fright under control.

Eventually they get Berenice and Eulalie too. Berenice specializes in jazz and swing, and she also helps with costumes a lot too. Eulalie is a well rounded dancer that specializes in kabuki theater and lyrical dance.

Annabel Lee is very popular on her side. She is the ballerina that gets the most solos, and all of her duets are with the top male ballet dancer, Prospero. Rumor has it that the two are secretly courting one another, but they are just good friends. Morella is a dancer specializing in folk dance and contemporary, but she’s lately felt like this company isn’t for her.

Ada is an amateur ballerina with a focus in ballroom dancing. She’s average at best, and her dream is to be the best ballerina, surpassing Annabel Lee.

Montresor specializes in tango, as well as modern dance. Will has no specialization and is kinda thrown wherever he’s needed, as he’s decent enough to mimic whoever else he’s dancing around. He’s never done a solo. Every duet he does is with Montresor and it’s usually just him being thrown around stage in some metaphorical, symbolic devil worship of a dance. Yes, Montresor likes to choreograph his own things as much as possible.

Imagine the gay lennabel tension.

Lenore: So Annabel Lee, will you join my dancers now?

Annabel Lee: Oh pet, you will have to do better than fluttering those pretty lashes of yours to get me to agree.

and they go to each others shows and montresor definitely tries to push someone down the stairs at some point and-

[a-man-in-the-crowd]

SCREECHING PROSPERO LOVE OF MY LIFE

no bc it's the way everyone seems to be getting a flashback this arc (this is me getting my hopes up for a will or morella flashback 😭) [edit: apollo has thrown the dodgeball of prophecy at me]. ALSO.

HELP ME I WAS SO SHOCKED TO HEAR PROSPERO CALLED A SLUR AFTER HE WAS LITERALLY JUST BEING POLITE I STARTED LAUGHING BC LOWKEY RELATABLE 😭 what a bunch of assholes holy shit, racism aside he was being NICE??

i'm genuinely so curious see where this flashback leads. the fact that the thing that sparked this scene was THIS little interaction

HE'S SO DEFINITELY AN IMMIGRANT THAT IS 1000% WHAT HIS FRIENDS AND FAMILY SAID TO HIM WHEN HE IMMIGRATED I'M CALLING IT RN

the way the girls immediately swoon, understandable 😭 i love you hot aro man never change

the face of a man considering murdering a bitch (i would've supported him)

HE WAS GOING TO FUCKING FUNERAL TOO HOLY SHIT 😭 prospero can't catch a break this flashback

and, of course, IT'S MY SON WILL

he's wasting sm energy on this motherfucker i swear to god just leave him for the hounds

I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE

once again i cannot tell how he feels about this. mildly concerned??? what's going on in your head will, how do you feel about ada being in trouble??? is he looking at monty to know how he should react??

i love how he immediately just accepts his new job as crutch-holder, too mang things are happening at once for him LMAO

[noctuadora]

About the Japanese relationship charts circulating around RE Twitter…

I've been seeing these images used to spark discussion... and arguments. Shipping wars aside, I was more intrigued by this Japanese term used to describe Leon and Ada’s relationship.

I want to explain these words in more detail, so this post will be about that + answering questions that some might ask. I'm also including Leon and Claire's chart as well.

Note: I am currently studying Japanese. I made this post partly because I like to understand advanced terms that are unique to a specific language. Despite this, my explanation is not immune to errors.

Leon and Claire’s relationship chart in Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness (2021).

Explaining this first because this is fairly easy to understand.

信頼関係 (しんらいかんけい・shinraikankei) - A relationship of mutual trust.

Kanji breakdown:

信頼 > reliance, trust, faith, confidence // 関係 > relationship

It should come as no surprise to anyone that Leon and Claire trust and rely on each other.

Q. ‘Is the term exclusively used for them only?’

No. 信頼関係 was also used to describe Leon's relationship with President Graham (and Jason or Patrick).

Leon and Ada’s relationship chart in Resident Evil: 6 (2012).

This is the term that others can't seem to grasp well (I mean they kinda do, but they also misinterpret it weirdly). In the English version, their relationship is described as ‘fatal ties’, but I don't care about that - I'm focusing on the Japanese version.

腐れ縁 (くされえん・kusareen) - an undesirable but inseparable relationship.

Kanji breakdown:

腐れ > to rot // 縁 > relations

The highlight of this word is the kanji 腐る, which is a negative verb used to describe something rotting/decaying.

The "inseparable relationship" part may be interpreted as romantic to some; as some shippers say, 'they are fated' (more on that later). But first, we need to understand what 腐れ縁 means in more context. Here are some excerpts I've taken from multiple sources.

離れようとしても離れられない関係 - A relationship that you know you should let go of, but can't. (This is consistent with OG RE4 Leon's line of 'she's a part of me I can't let go'.)

Note: 離れ (はなれ・hanare) mostly means 'to let go (of something/someone)' and 'to separate/to give up/to part ways'.

離れよう、縁を切ろうとしても断ち切れない好ましくない関係 - An unfavorable relationship that you can't cut off no matter how much you try to.

Note: 好ましい (このましい・konomashii) means desirable. 好ましくない (このましくない・konomashikunai) is the negative conjugation of it. 好ましくない関係 - undesirable relationship.

Just from this alone, you can see that their dynamic is difficult to understand. And that's what 腐れ縁 is.

Q. ‘Is the word 'rotten relationship' an accurate translation of the term?’

Google Translate translates this word LITERALLY. I think there is no true English equivalent of 腐れ縁, but yeah, 'fatal ties' is the term closest to it.

Q. ‘Can Leon and Ada be described as 'fated'?’

The answer is yes... and no. Here is another excerpt I find to be interesting:

「運命の相手」 を思わせるようなニュアンス ですが、 実際には好ましくない関係に使われることが 多い言葉です。- The term 腐れ縁 does have a nuance that is reminiscent of "destined/fated partner (or in other words, 'the one')", but in reality, it is often used to refer to undesirable relationships.

Q. ‘So... Is their relationship that bad?'

The answer to this question will depend on your own interpretation of Leon and Ada's dynamic - and that's why people are quite divided when it comes to them. It is said that 腐れ縁 can be positive... in the sense that if you experienced it before, you can now have a better judgment of people (lol). But in some cases, a long-lasting rotting relationship (like theirs) could mean that they at least have some level of mutual trust only they understand. It can work... but even the article I've read wasn't so clear on how it can work, so.

If you made it this far, I hope you found this interesting. :)

[ghostlynightpanda]

HIII I LUV UR WORKS AND WOULD LIKE TO REQUEST SOME RANPO X READER FLUFF :333 

Is it possible you could write about Ranpo being in the rain, walking mindlessly to get to the ADA building (due to him not being able to figure out how the train system works). While Ranpo was walking in the rain with his umbrella, Ranpo could hear someone running, and he decided to look in the direction of the sound where he saw the reader, who looked stunning but severely distressed, but before Ranpo could process it, the reader had to run somewhere else, making it so their out of sight right after Ranpo looks at them.

At some point, they find themselves being at the same streetlight where Ranpo offers his umbrella to share. The reader at first just looks at Ranpo confused and then decides to accept making a bit of small talk with him as to what he does and who he is. Ranpo, being Ranpo, tells the reader how he is the best detective in the world and the reader finds that quite amusing and the reader tells Ranpo about how they just moved in and is new to the area. They continue walking before the reader goes into their apartment and tells Ranpo how they should go hang out whenever they are both free. (I imagine the reader wants to make more friends as they are new to town and Ranpo is one of the first people who offered a hand when they needed it, while Ranpo is glad to find someone who balances him out and makes him feel comfortable and in general enjoys the readers company)

This is their first ever encounter with each other and, after a couple of weeks, coincidentally, the reader is now working with the ADA. With this, they recognize each other and become good friends. Something between them starts to blossom. They are both unsure what it is, but it just clicks, and they manage to work with each other really well. In the very end, they realize they have feelings for each other, with both of them unsure about what to do about it)

(Another thing is that I imagine the reason the reader is running in the rain is because they forgot their umbrella at their workplace and now have no choice but to go home in the rain, so idk if you would them to mumble about it while running due to them being upset about it LOL)

SORRY IF IM BEING SUPER SPECIFIC. IVE JUST HAD THIS IDEA FOR A WHILE AND WAS WONDERING IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO ITTT

PS I LUVVV UR WORKSS THEY LEGITIMATELY MAKE MY DAY <33333 

ANON OUTT ψ (｀∇´) ψ

(Also sorry if the grammar is a bit wonky English is not my first language 😭🙏🏻)

Found in the Rain

synopsis: A coincidental encounter in the rain brings you and Ranpo together, sparking an unexpected bond that deepens as you join the Armed Detective Agency.

content/warnings: Ranpo Edogawa x reader, fluff, -2.868 words

Yokohama dripped with rain.

The clouds hung low, dull and heavy, washing the city in a cold gray. Puddles rippled with each new drop, the scent of wet pavement and damp air hanging thick over the streets. Most people had cleared out quickly, umbrellas bobbing like little domes over scurrying bodies as they hurried to shelter, warmth, and dry clothes.

Ranpo Edogawa, however, walked at his usual unbothered pace, a deep green umbrella resting casually over his shoulder.

He didn't like the rain—not because it was cold or wet or inconvenient. No, Ranpo disliked it because it distorted sound and hid things. The city became a little too quiet under all that dripping, and when things were quiet, his mind had more room to be loud.

And right now, it was mostly repeating: Stupid train system.

He huffed through his nose.

They told him to take the train today. It's easy, they said. Just follow the signs, they said. But no one remembered that Ranpo didn't do trains. Or signs. Or schedules. Not because he couldn't—he just found them needlessly complicated and annoying. When he'd stared at the system map with its tangle of color-coded lines and stops, it felt like trying to read a puzzle designed by someone who wanted people to suffer.

He'd called the ADA earlier.

"Yosano's busy with a patient," Atsushi had said apologetically. "Kunikida's tied up in a meeting. Dazai's… missing again."

Of course he was.

So, Ranpo had sighed dramatically and clicked the call off. No one was coming. Which meant he had to walk. By foot.

He shifted the umbrella slightly as the wind tried to tip it, the plastic handle slipping for a moment in his hand. His shoes splashed softly through shallow puddles, the hem of his pants just brushing the damp sidewalk. Every now and then, his gaze would drift lazily across the street, noting the hurried footsteps, the cars with misted windows, the blurred reflections of neon signs shimmering across wet concrete.

The rain ticked steadily against the umbrella's surface.

Tick tick tick. Tick.

He could've turned around, maybe. Gone home, waited for the storm to pass. But he kept walking. Mindless steps, but somehow still carrying him exactly where he needed to go. That's how it always worked with him.

Ranpo sighed again, this time a little louder, and allowed himself the rare luxury of complaining to no one in particular:

"This is so boring…"

The rain kept falling, a steady whisper against the umbrella above Ranpo's head. The city felt muffled, as if wrapped in wet cotton. He was already thinking about the snacks he'd demand once he reached the ADA building when—

Pat-pat-pat-pat—

Fast, uneven footsteps splashed through the water behind him, cutting through the quiet with a frantic rhythm.

Ranpo paused mid-step.

His head turned slightly, sharp green eyes narrowing. That wasn't the casual rush of someone dodging rain. It was too erratic, too fast—panicked.

His gaze flicked in the direction of the sound just in time to see someone turning a corner, bolting down the street in his direction.

You.

Soaked head to toe, hair plastered to your forehead, clothes clinging uncomfortably to your frame. You looked like you'd just run through a monsoon, which, to be fair, wasn't far from the truth. But it wasn't just the water or the rush that caught his attention—it was your expression.

Wide eyes. A furrowed brow. Lips moving—muttering something he couldn't quite catch over the rain.

You looked… distressed.

Immediately, Ranpo's body tensed—not out of fear, but instinct. His mind flicked through possibilities: being chased? Lost? Hurt? He almost stepped forward, raising his hand as if to stop you.

But before he could say anything, your eyes flicked in his direction—barely registering his presence—and then darted away again. You veered off down a side street, shoes slipping slightly on the wet pavement, breath visible in short puffs as you disappeared into the mist and the gray.

Gone.

Ranpo stood still for a moment, umbrella hanging uselessly at his side.

"…What was that?"

The detective in him itched. Not from suspicion, but curiosity. You hadn't seemed dangerous. You seemed like someone who needed help. But you were already out of sight before he could piece together more.

A drop of rain found its way down the back of his collar, and he grimaced.

He looked down the street where you'd vanished, then back toward the path to the ADA building.

He clicked his tongue.

"Troublesome…"

But still, something about you stayed in his mind, like a single puzzle piece that didn't yet have a home.

Ranpo adjusted his umbrella and continued walking—eyes a little more alert now, ears tuned into the rhythm of the city.

The rain hadn't let up. If anything, it was falling heavier now—sharp lines of silver under the city's streetlamps.

Ranpo walked on, slow and aimless, shoes darkened with water and the bottom hem of his coat slightly damp despite the umbrella. His thoughts were elsewhere. Specifically, on you.

That flash of you sprinting through the street kept playing in his head. It wasn't just the image—it was the feeling it left behind. The kind that lingered without asking.

Then, up ahead, in the blur of light and drizzle—he saw you again.

You were standing under the glow of a streetlight, back partially turned to him. Rain still fell steadily around you, but you made no effort to shield yourself. Your soaked clothes clung to you like second skin, and your hair was a mess of damp strands, dripping steadily onto the sidewalk.

You held a small paper bag tightly to your chest, its sides slightly darkened from water. Probably the reason for the rush. Whatever was inside, it mattered enough to risk a sprint through a storm.

Ranpo slowed as he approached you. A few feet away, he stopped. "Hey," he called casually, voice soft but unmistakably clear.

You turned, blinking in surprise. Your eyes locked on him—those same green eyes from earlier—and for a second, neither of you spoke.

Ranpo tilted his head, umbrella tilted slightly to the side, water rolling off its edge. "You again. Still in a hurry?"

You blinked at him, still catching your breath, but no longer frantic. A weak laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. "Not anymore. I, uh… just needed to grab something before a shop closed. Medicine." You held up the now-soggy paper bag slightly. "Didn't plan on running through a downpour, but… here we are."

Ranpo's gaze flicked to the bag, then back to your face. "You forgot your umbrella." It wasn't a question.

You gave him a tired, sheepish smile. "Yeah. Left it at work. Didn't realize until I was halfway to the station. By then, it felt easier to just accept my fate."

Ranpo stepped forward, closing the small distance between you both. Without a word, he shifted the umbrella so it covered you too, the edges brushing against your shoulder.

You looked at him, startled. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"I do," he interrupted. "You look like a sad, wet stray cat."

You laughed again, short and genuine this time. "Charming."

Ranpo gave you a little smirk, then glanced ahead at the dark, glistening sidewalk. "Where are you headed?"

"Home," you said simply. "Just a few more blocks." A pause, then: "You?"

"ADA building. They left me to fend for myself today." He sounded mildly offended, but in a theatrical sort of way. "Had to walk. Trains are a nightmare."

You tilted your head. "ADA?"

Ranpo adjusted his hat, clearly pleased. "Armed Detective Agency. I'm their top detective. Actually, I'm the world's best detective."

You raised an eyebrow, amused by the sheer confidence. "Oh, are you now?"

He nodded sagely. "It's true. My deduction skills are unmatched. I even figured out you're new in town."

You blinked. "How'd you—"

"Your accent's not local. And you didn't know where the train station overpass was earlier." He paused. "Also, I heard you muttering about it."

You chuckled, brushing your damp hair back. "Alright, fair. You got me."

Ranpo smiled, a little softer now.

The two of you began to walk together, step by step, the shared umbrella creating a small bubble of calm between you despite the storm all around.

By the time you reached your apartment building, the rain had finally softened into a misting drizzle. The streets glistened with reflected lights, and your footsteps joined Ranpo's in quiet rhythm, squishing faintly with each step.

You stopped in front of the entrance, a small covered stoop with an old buzzer panel and a flickering porch light.

"Well," you said, turning to face him, "this is me."

Ranpo looked up at the building, then back at you. "Huh. My office is… totally in the same direction," he declared, clearly proud of the coincidence.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Really? Because you said you the ADA is close to—"

He interrupted with a casual wave of his hand. "Details. I got a little sidetracked."

You smiled at him, and for a second, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you wasn't awkward—it felt strangely natural, like the pause between one breath and the next.

Then, you took a small step forward, shifting your weight a little awkwardly on your damp shoes. "Hey, um… would you want to hang out sometime?"

Ranpo blinked at you.

You gestured vaguely with one hand, your wet sleeve clinging to your wrist. "I mean, I'm still new here, and I don't really know anyone outside of work. And you're…" You glanced at him, smiling. "Well, you're interesting. In a good way. And, you know, you're the only person so far who's offered me an umbrella during a storm."

Ranpo tilted his head slightly, studying you. You couldn't read the expression on his face at first—he wasn't smirking or bragging. He just looked… thoughtful.

Then, he said softly, "Most people don't stick around me that long."

You blinked. "What?"

He gave a shrug, almost too casual. "They think I'm too much. Or too strange. Even some people I work with still don't really get me." His tone didn't carry sadness—just matter-of-fact honesty. But there was something underneath it, quiet and guarded.

You hesitated, then smiled gently. "Well… I guess I'm strange, too. So we'll get along just fine."

Ranpo blinked once, and then smiled—genuine and wide, not smug or self-satisfied. "Hm. Yeah. I think I like you."

You felt your cheeks warm slightly, but you just laughed. "So… is that a yes to hanging out sometime?"

He tilted his umbrella as if in thought, then gave a small, dramatic nod. "Fine. But only if there's snacks involved."

"Deal."

He stepped back a little, turning slightly toward the street, still smiling. "I'll see you around, newbie."

You watched him walk off into the soft drizzle, the umbrella bobbing as he went, then stepped into your building with a strange feeling fluttering in your chest.

You hadn't known Ranpo long—just a walk in the rain. But somehow, it already felt like the beginning of something you didn't quite have a name for.

The Armed Detective Agency office was louder than you'd expected.

You stood just inside the entrance, dripping umbrella in hand, as a loud crash echoed from somewhere down the hall followed by a muffled "I said don't touch that, Dazai!" and the faint sound of something—or someone—falling over.

You blinked, unsure if you'd stepped into a detective agency or a barely functioning circus.

Kunikida, who had just finished giving you a quick introduction and overview, sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You'll get used to it," he muttered under his breath. "Eventually."

You smiled politely, still a bit nervous. It was your first day. The paperwork had been processed, and after a few weeks of temp work and meetings, you were officially joining the ADA as a support staff member—part admin, part field assistant. A flexible position, they'd said. Always changing, always in motion.

Like the people who worked here.

"Ranpo should be in today," Kunikida said absently as he sifted through a clipboard. "You might be paired with him on your first few assignments. He's... unconventional, but effective. Just don't expect him to read a map."

You were about to ask what that meant when a familiar voice cut through the hallway:

"Did someone bring snacks, or is this just another boring Monday?"

You froze. That voice. That lilt.

Then you saw him—Ranpo, rounding the corner with his usual swagger, a lollipop stick between his teeth, hat slightly crooked as always. His coat flared a little as he walked, and he had the self-satisfied air of someone who knew everything before anyone else did.

He barely glanced at Kunikida before his eyes landed on you.

And stopped.

You blinked, unsure if he remembered—but then a grin slowly spread across his face.

"Well, well," Ranpo said, stepping closer, expression lighting up. "Fancy seeing you here."

You smiled, something warm flickering in your chest. "Hey, detective. Long time no see."

Kunikida looked between you both, visibly confused. "Wait—you two know each other?"

Ranpo clicked his tongue. "Of course we do. I saved her from drowning in the rain a few weeks ago."

You laughed. "You handed me half of your umbrella. Don't make it sound like you dragged me out of a river."

"Same thing," Ranpo replied breezily, then leaned in a little, voice quieter, just for you. "You didn't tell me you were applying here."

"I didn't know if I'd get it. Thought it might be awkward if I said something and then didn't make the cut."

Ranpo tilted his head. "I would've known you'd get it."

You looked at him for a moment—at the glimmer of mischief behind his glasses, the warmth in his voice. And beneath that, something quieter. A sense of comfort, like the kind you'd felt under that shared umbrella.

It hadn't been long ago. But already, something about seeing him again felt right. Familiar.

Ranpo stood straighter, folding his arms behind his head. "Well, guess I've got another reason to come in on time now."

You raised a brow. "Do you ever come in on time?"

He grinned. "Guess we'll find out."

And just like that, you were part of the ADA. You and Ranpo—no longer just strangers in the rain, but something… more.

Maybe not defined yet. But promising.

The weeks passed in a blur of assignments, cases, paperwork, and late-night conversations that started over vending machine coffee and somehow stretched until the streets were quiet and the air carried the stillness of midnight.

You found yourself spending most of your time with Ranpo. At first, it was practical—Kunikida had paired you up for a few minor field tasks. Ranpo, despite his habit of avoiding anything that even looked like effort, was fast, sharp, and always three steps ahead.

But it didn't take long for things to shift from practical to comfortable.

You ended up grabbing lunch with him more than anyone else. Not because you planned to—it just sort of happened. You'd look around the ADA office, find him lounging in his usual chair, eyes half-lidded and a half-eaten snack on his lap. He'd say, "I'm hungry," and somehow you'd both be at your favorite noodle stall ten minutes later.

You never questioned how easily he'd fall into step beside you.

It became routine: – Working through case notes while Ranpo exaggerated details just to hear you laugh. – Rainy evenings when he'd walk you home, umbrella tilted your way without comment. – The casual way he'd lean against your desk, lollipop between his lips, giving you riddles you never asked for just to see if you'd try to solve them. – And the nights when neither of you wanted to go home just yet, so you wandered the quiet city streets, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Ranpo didn't let people in easily—you could tell. He joked often, talked a lot, but there were spaces he didn't let others into. And yet with you, it was different. Not because he poured his heart out, but because he didn't have to. You understood each other in silence, too.

He never said anything about it. But sometimes, when he thought you weren't looking, you'd catch him watching you—not calculating or trying to deduce something—just watching. Like he was still piecing together how someone like you had wandered into his life and stayed.

One night, after a long day of running field errands with him, you sat on a rooftop eating conbini snacks, watching the neon lights buzz in the distance. You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.

"You know… I've gotten used to this."

Ranpo turned his head lazily. "Used to what?"

"To you. Being around."

He blinked once, then gave a slow smile—one that didn't have any teasing behind it. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too."

And neither of you said anything more that night.

But something unspoken had already taken root.

Masterlist