#red band society imagine

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: ABO/Mpreg AU Edition

As per @oldefashioned's request, since this is for her, here you go. I tried to filter my bookmarks, so these are more about the plot than the smut. There's probably a lot of ABO without mpreg, but I hope some of these change your mind about it!!

1. Fire, Fury and Flame by IAmAVeronica

Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he's accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger's sperm. Awesome. And the father of Stiles's baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts. Joy.

Notes: this is Jane the Virgin if there were werewolves and abo. It’s absolutely phenomenal. That's it, I have nothing else to say, 10/10. It's completed!

2. I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?” He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur. Or the one where Stiles goes thrift shopping and steals an alpha's shirt. And gets a lot more than he bargains for.

Notes: Stiles does something he's not supposed to. Derek is... confused. It ends up pretty okay. Also kind of an office au?? Anyways they're both dorks and I love them. It's completed, but you need to have an account to see this work.

3. Take Me Away From Here by Hedwig221b (also @hedwig221b here on tumblr!)

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf. The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable. If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him. He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Notes: of course I had to rec at least one Hedwig abo fic, they're the best! Don't you worry, there's a lot more in this list. This is a historical au... sort of. If history had werewolves and omegas. Don't worry, it works out fine. The whole world building in itself is interesting, because it treates omegas like a different species. Derek, my beloved, always and forever obsessed with Stiles! It gets dark for a little while, but don't fret, all is okay in the world. It's completed!

4. Scent Left Unsaid by bleep0bleep

In a society where werewolves are second class, Deucslist is an alternative werewolf network (similar to Craigslist) where humans and werewolves offer (mostly sexual) services. Derek is a long-term client of an anonymous human omega whose scent is just perfect. He never expects to meet him, until it happens.  Derek has slept with that faded red hooded sweatshirt every night since he got it in the mail. It’s calming, that scent; it’s everything to him. So it’s strange now that Derek is smelling it wafting from the end of the subway car as it careens towards the L line, lights flickering on the passing platforms.

Notes: imagine meet cute, only Derek is too socially awkward to actually enact the necessary steps to make it a meet cute, and Stiles has to do it instead. Also using the good old trope of Stiles' scent being like cocaine to Derek. It's very wholesome, and it's completed.

5. Never a Hardship by Julibean19 

“Derek, meet Stiles, your new bodyguard,” Talia says. Derek doesn’t get up. He’s frozen to his seat on the couch, staring at the man who will now be hounding his every step. “What’s a Stiles?” he asks dumbly, finally budging when his mother smacks him on the shoulder.  “That’s Chief Stiles to you,” his mother says, scolding him. Derek huffs in annoyance, wondering how this could possibly get worse. “Senior Chief Stilinski is a Navy SEAL, Special Operations Forces, and has been handpicked by me, out of several hundred options. You will treat him with respect and do what he says.” “I’m a grown man, Madam President,” Derek says through clenched teeth. “You can’t expect me to listen to this guy. I don’t know anything about him."

Notes: I love First Family aus! And Omega First Son!Derek with Alpha Bodyguard!Stiles is just delightful. There's a lot of omega politics, and Stiles gets to be a total badass when he and Derek are not pining after each other. Also, Chris Argent, surprisingly, is the best. I don't know what else to say without spoiling everything, so just know this is amazing! It's completed.

6. A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing by dumpac

"What the fuck, Stiles, what the fuck?!" "No, no, you don't understand, Scotty, this is the best idea ever!" "Because you think registering as a fucking alpha to college when you're actually an omega is the best idea ever? It's not even a good idea!" Or : Being an omega, Stiles has few chances to be accepted in the college of his dreams. Registering as an alpha seems like a good idea... until his new roommate, hot-as-the-sun alpha Derek Hale, comes in the equation.

Notes: I know I say this a lot but this fic is SO GOOD!! Stiles pretends to be an alpha and IT WORKS because he's a badass, only things go a little bit sideways because he's not an alpha and Derek... well Derek has no idea. My poor man is confused. Also has a dash of good old discrimination against omegas and nepotism. One of my favorite abo AND college au fics. It's completed.

7. Untouchable by Hedwig221b

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts. See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding. And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

Notes: another Hedwig fic hehe. This one makes me go feral EVERY TIME. Literally one of my favorite fics to ever exist, I think I've read it three times in the last month and a half alone. If you're looking for unhinged sterek with absolutely besotted Derek, and pretty omega Stiles who has only eyes for him, this is the fic for you. They are literally so great!! 10/10, please please please go read this. It's completed.

8. You Smell Like Mine by bleep0bleep, marguerite_26 

People talk about the alpha instinct, an alpha's head being swayed by a nice-smelling omega, or the desire to drop everything and show off. Derek's never felt any of that. He's just not that kind of alpha. Then he meets Stiles.

Notes: I love Derek in this, he's trying SO HARD to remain nonchalant over Stiles, but he never stood a chance. One whiff of Stiles' scent and he was a goner, pathetically entranced. Good thing Stiles wants him back hehe. A sprinkle of Enemies to Lovers (and really, can we say it's sterek if it doesn't have enemies to lovers who are inexplicably drawn to each other despite their best efforts to appear indifferent?). It's completed.

9. His Only Defence by LunaCanisLupus_22

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha. Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Notes: I honestly don't know how to explain this one. It's a modern au, only archaic abo rules exist and Stiles and Derek... well, Stiles is Stiles and Derek is Derek. They work it out. It's completed, but you need to have an account to read this work.

10. cheer up, babe by graveltotempo, SpringlockedSpectre

He was the basketball captain. And he was a cheerleader. Can I make it any more clear? OR: Derek Hale thought he had his crush on Stiles Stilinski under control. And then Stiles decided to show up to school in a skirt.

Notes: Derek is pining and makes a fool of himself all the time in front of Stiles. Stiles, thankfully for Derek, finds it charming. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed. I also recommend checking up graveltotempo's other works, they're great!

11. Love's Violent Delights by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted. Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek. Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Notes: this makes me go feralllll it's so good. The Sheriff is imprisoned for what basically amounts to bullshit charges, and he and Derek share a cell. When Derek is freed, he looks for Stiles to make good on his promise to the Sheriff to take care of him. Somehow, they end up running from the law lol, my little criminal babies. Their relationship here is so uuuuuuughhhhh so wonderful! There's also critics to the system and talk about abo politics. It's completed.

12. Side Character by Hedwig221b

He should’ve kept his mouth shut. He should’ve smiled like always. Now everything was ruined, crushed, destroyed. Dust, shards, and the remnants of his pride. Love that no one needed. Derek’s gaze scalded the side of his face but Stiles refused to meet it. He had already revealed too much.

Notes: Hedwig, as always, writes such good stories! Seriously one of my favorite sterek writers! Stiles is oblivious and pining, Derek is also oblivious and pining, only in a completely different manner. They still end up together because they are meant to be in EVERY UNIVERSE. This doesn't have the traditional Alpha/Omega pairing, since Stiles is a Beta (really, the root of all this issue in the first place) He is very insecure in this one, but Derek is here for him. It's completed.

13. Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Notes: this is a very sweet one. Pretty light hearted, especially compared to canon. The bullying does get a little intense at some points, though, so if that's triggering proceed with caution. Jock Derek, my beloved. Stiles is a loner, and also very insecure on this one! But Derek is an absolute sweetheart and a real champ, so love conquers all. Has some Bad Friend Scott, too, so if that's something you're interested in, this is your fic. It's completed.

14. We Gotta Hide What We're Doin' by CharWright5

As a Bodyguard within the Stilinski Rodzina, Derek's one and only job is to watch over the Omega son—and only child—of the Family's Head, Stiles, a task that is easier said than done some nights. It's just good that the Alpha knows the best way to punish the little troublemaker when his bratty behavior threatens to expose a secret that could get the Bodyguard killed.

Notes: this one has a lot of smut, and the premise is absolutely killer. I'm actually very sad it's not 200k words long, but what can you do? Stiles is the heir to a Mafia Empire, and Derek an enforcer and Stiles' personal bodyguard since he was young. Stiles is a spoiled brat here, but Derek likes that hehe. It's also a secret relationship. It's kiiiiind of dark, since this is a mafia au, but nothing too terrible. To be honest the most explicit part is the smut. It's completed.

15. Survival of the Species by Lissadiane

“I think I’m dying.” Nothing makes sense – and now Derek has left him. “No, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton says grimly, rooting around in his special cupboard of herbs and remedies. “I’m afraid not. You’re merely suffering from a biological imperative to bear your alpha’s children and strengthen the pack.” Stiles considers that for a moment, as best he can with his mind a hazy mess, and then he says quietly, “I think that might be worse.” “So, so much worse,” Scott agrees. * In which Derek's pack is apparently stable enough to begin planning for the future, and somehow, the universe has decided Stiles is the perfect candidate to bear his alpha's children.

Notes: honestly?? One of the best fics I've read about mpreg, not just in the Teen Wolf, but in general. It keeps things real, everyone is the appropriate amount of freaked out, for a while no one is having a good time, and there's enough to hint at body horror that my angst thirst is satisfied. Don't worry though, everything's fine! And there's no actual body horror, Stiles just has a very wild imagination. There's also not actual mpreg either, it's just discussed. It's complete.

16. before the world catches up by negativelyme

Stiles is a beta, so he’s never been a part of the annual Winter Mating Rituals that take over his high school. Or so he thinks.

Notes: this one is so wholesome! Derek truly is trying his very best, you can do it, Derek! Stiles' I'm-a-Beta-no-one-wants-me issues are getting in the way of true love. All ends well. It's completed.

17. All You Ever Needed to Know About Knotting by orphan_account

Derek had started reading the column by accident. Really, reading strangers’ questions about knotting and heat had never really appealed to him. However, at that point in time, he was a little desperate. And he was right: most of the questions submitted by anonymous readers didn’t appeal to him. The answers, though, did. (Or: In which Stiles writes an advice column about knotting and Derek is smitten. Also they're neighbors.)

Notes: it's pretty much what it says in the summary. Overall very wholesome, made me laugh. Derek is absolutely precious here. It's completed.

18. You Want Me Back by graveltotempo

Stiles and the Hale pack come back to Beacon Hills for a High School reunion.

Notes: classic 10 year reunion fic (or maybe it's not classic in this fandom?? Tbh, most of the reunion fics I've read are from KHR), Stiles comes back to BH married and with a child. He, Jackson and Isaac are the best of bests, and Derek is, of course, wonderful. Peter is also pretty great, even if he appears for like 5 seconds. Canon Divergent from season 3b, bad friend Lydia, bad friend Scott. There's an epic smackdown and the Hales are basically top dogs. It's completed.

19. Over the Moon by likeshipsonthesea

Stiles and Derek spend a night together, and Derek, thinking he's protecting Stiles, tells him it was a mistake. Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He also leaves behind 6 letters to say goodbye to the pack. From his letters, the pack thinks he's killed himself. Meanwhile, Stiles is in NYC, living with Jackson, going to Columbia, oh, and he's pregnant.

Notes: Derek is an idiot, but his heart is in the right place. Misscomunication ensues, basically, and it escalates way too much. Jackson and Stiles' broship is literally the best thing ever, I love them!!!! We should have more fics with them being the best duo ever.

20. the Jurisdiction series by elisera

John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before.  But the temper is still there. He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders.

Notes: the first part of the series gets, admittedly, pretty violent. Everything after that is very wholesome though. The Sheriff is an absolute gem in this one! Also, the mpreg is a very important factor after the first part of the series, but the first part is mostly just sterek pining and the aforementioned violent events. I'd mind the tags. It's completed.

21. What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son. “Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”  Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off. “God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...” “Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

Notes: a wonderful accidental pregnancy fic. I love the Sheriff on this one, he's so supportive and actually has a hold of every single braincell because he is just THAT great. Stiles is also lovely, and while Derek is missing for like the first third of the fic he's great, too. This are pretty fluffy all around! It's completed.

22. I Don't Blame You for Being You (but you can't blame me for hating it) by LadySlytherin 

Derek hits Stiles with his Camaro - 'Dammit, Stiles, it was an accident!'...'Why don't I believe you?' - and hilarity ensues.

Notes: do you know how there are fics that make you go 'I LOVE STEREK SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAH'? Well, this is one of them. Derek hits Stiles with his car, Stiles ends with a broken leg, Derek gets to take care of him while he recovers as payment. Oh, and there's a fight about which pack Stiles actually belongs to, but that works itself out. It's pretty great. It's also completed.

23. Predators by Hedwig221b

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles. And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

Notes: to be honest, I thought I'd be putting this on another section, since this is a creature!Stiles fic (and it'll definitely go there when I make that fic rec list), but if it has mpreg then it has mpreg. This is actually one of my favorite fics ever!! I feel like I'm always saying this but it bears repeating, so: Hedwig always makes such great stories (as proven by the sheer amount of Hedwig fics I have in my rec lists lol). Stiles is so uuuuuugh in this one, I love him! And Derek! Oh lord, Derek makes me go feral here. Honestly, so good! It's completed, but do mind the tags because it gets... intense.

24. Disposition by Tulikettu

Stiles has an itch. A kinky, kinda dirty itch he needs to scratch.  So why not go on the Internet and look for a complete stranger to scratch it?  Derek needs a partner for his rut.  What a coincidence.

Notes: alright so this last one really veers off track from the rest of this list. It's basically pure smut so if you're not into that, don't read it. It also doesn't actually have mpreg, it's just discussed (and barely as a subject, since in their current present it isn't possible). Also, the kinks are... well, they are. There are some pretty triggering stuff in here so please mind the tags before you read, because if it's in the tags, you will read it, in detail. Other than that, it's pretty great! Stiles and Derek are very obsessed with each other, as they should. It's completed!

And this is everything. I honestly surprised myself with the amount of fics that ended up here, I hadn't realized I'd read that many sterek fics with ABO and mpreg. I hope you like these, Shar! And of course, anyone else who bounds finding this, I hope you enjoy these too.

[azulaaaaaaah]

atla/tlok characters that i think did *it* (but i just can’t prove it)

this is the most unserious post i’ve ever made. (AND I WANT TO PREFACE BY SAYING BY *IT* I MEAN KISSING)

Sozin and Roku

and history will say that they were just great friends…

this is the only one where ill legitimately die on this hill

like i’m 90% sure roku just showed Aang their friendship in the flashbacks to prevent awkwardly explaining to a 12 year old monk that he was romantically and/or physically involved with the person who committed a g*nocide against his people

LIKE CMON WHY IN THE WORLD WAS SOZIN SO PRESSED IN THE BACKGROUND OF ROKU’S WEDDING ??? AND FOR NO REASON?? WHY WAS THEIR FRIENDSHIP SO INTENSE?

sozin i feel loved roku (to an obsessive level) and roku literally dgaf. king shit

Wan and Raava

genuinely what the fuck was going on between these two. like i don’t even have any words

canonically at the very least it was a domestic partnership

S2 korra doesn’t make sense at the best of times. imagine trying to explain the intensity of this pair’s devotion to each other, to someone who hasn’t seen the show- all the while knowing raava is a disembodied spirit practically older than time

she’s the embodiment of everything good and light in the universe and he’s just wan. (and he’s wanough <3)

‘do you think we’re soulmates in every life?’

‘bet’

‘wait that’s not what i-‘

Cabbage Merchant and his cabbages (or at least a cabbage)

yeah i’m not touching this one with a 10 foot pole

Every member of the red lotus squad

ah yes it’s my favourite evil polycule

amidst plans to kidnap children and topple monarchies what else is there to do except… kiss.

let’s be real there’s something so inherently romantic about being apart of an elite, vaguely murderous anarchist squad

they all share one exact bed. it’s canon

(p’li somehow big spoons all of them)

The S2 Nomads

these dudes are the textbook definition of anti-monogamy

like they’re obsessed with love so i fully believe that they think ‘it should be spread amongst others’ or some shit

oh to be a travelling communist nomad in a band, wandering the wilds with my wife, and our several partners

they’re somehow the opposite of the red lotus and yet the same. they all share a single bed/sleep area

The dangerous ladies (but all separately)

i don’t ship any of these particularly and yet can still admit that it’s canon

ty-lee and azula have kissed bc azula probably made up a dumb excuse like ‘oh i don’t want my first kiss with a guy to be… erm… bad’

mai and ty-lee have kissed because they both probably have genuine, vaguely deep rooted romantic feelings for each other

mai and azula have kissed to purely spite zuko (and yknow what ty-lee too)

HOWEVER A KEY ASPECT TO THIS DYNAMIC: azula is completely unaware about the ty-lee and mai thing. it’s uh… better off that way.

Hakoda and Bato

i ship this about 50% but like… it’s got to have happened once right? considering all that down time they spent together on a boat away from the repercussions of water tribe society…

also considering they were leaders i doubt the other warriors were in a position to ever call them out on it

like cmoooooooon what’s a little kiss between the homies every now and again?

hakoda is where sokka gets his rizz/flagrant bisexuality from and i can’t change that guys

[desiresiwant]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦-𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4k~

warnings: strong language, eventual violence, a pretty much tamed 1st chapter…for now

a/n: this is the 1st chapter of my au fic based off the The Originals (what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?). If there’s a warning I skipped let me know.

MASTERLIST | NEXT ->

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲 | 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗢𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒.

It wasn't how Deena imagined it to be the moment she stepped off the smelly bus onto the gravel sidewalk, with a packed bag hung across her shoulder and an old black suitcase covered in band stickers she used to listen to years ago.

She came a long way from Le Havre, France. Spent about seventeen hours on a plane and another two hours riding two buses to get here, stuck next to an annoying older woman spilling her lifelong secrets.

The sunny sky was touched with a gloom and many buildings looked as if they came out of the 1700s in American films with a modern touch to fit today's society. There were many interesting stores that had caught Deena's eye as she traveled down the sidewalk with no plan in mind. She enjoyed the urban touch of the city through the people and how together they were which was much different back home. Also, it was very much diverse compared to the small area she lived in.

She felt comfortable. At home.

Off the side of a group of friends passing through, Deena pulled out a picture of her beautiful mother in the arms of a man that's to be her father—Klaus Mikaelson.

Her mother was happy in this picture. They both were. In a black shirt hanging off her shoulders, ripped tights under a pair of shorts, smiling at the camera with a drink in her hand and her curly hair almost taking up half the photo. The man—her father, Klaus—sat leaned into her mother, kissing her ear with an arm thrown around her waist. He wore a basic leather jacket with dark blue jeans. Dirty blond hair, dark blue-greenish eyes, and a killer smile. The table in front of them covered in empty red cups and half-filled liquor bottles. They were both young, in college, and in love.

"I want to find him," Deena said to herself in a soft voice. "I need to find Klaus Mikaelson."

But the problem was if Deena ever found her father, she didn't know what she would tell him. She practiced what to say when meeting him, but it was all gibberish and uncompleted sentences that made no sense. She feared a lot of things about her father; him being married with kids and she would come into his perfect life and ruin the happiness he made for himself, no knowledge of his other child he had created across the globe. Or he was a dead-beat with nothing going for his life. Or he has long passed away.

But whatever truth lies in his life, she just wanted to see him. From afar, if needed. To see how he lived. And if he cared enough to know that the woman he met in this very city before she moved to France years ago, was now dead. But she selfishly wanted him to know that she existed.

...if she knew where he was. Or where to start.

The city was so big, nevertheless the state and because Deena wasn't from around—this was her second time ever in America—it was difficult for her to navigate or read the English signs she never learned. But she grew hungry and entered the nearest restaurant.

"Hey, welcome in! Take a seat anywhere," Greeted the waiter, passing by with both hands filled.

Most tables were filled as Deena searched for an empty spot.

Sensing the panicked teenager, the waiter stood before Deena after she finished serving a table. "Must be your first time here, so welcome. Just join a table with someone, anyone, but choose wisely; some people can talk more than they chew." She was picking at the older customer sitting at the counter who obviously heard what she said and sent her a squinted look with pursed lips. "That's the motto of the restaurant; To Meet A Stranger Along The Way. Eating alone doesn't mean you have to be alone. So sit anywhere and I or another waiter will be with you soon."

Deena sent the nice lady a smile. "I understand, thank you."

She pulled along her suitcase looking for a place to sit down. Most tables were occupied and many shared engaging conversations of their own that Deena didn't want to intrude, until she noticed a brunette sitting alone with a book in her hand reading quietly.

"Can I sit here?"

The girl looked up from her book and gestured towards the empty chair. "Go for it," she went back to reading.

She took off her backpack and placed it in the empty seat next to her before sitting down. The girl was young, or at least she appeared to be. Had to be around the same age, and she was very pretty.

That part Deena will keep to herself.

As if the girl felt Deena's complimenting stare, she tore away her gaze as the girl lifted her head from the book, but it was already too late since she was caught. "Have you read it?" She started. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Who hasn't?"

"I know right? It's for some stupid class, so the teacher's forcing us to read up to five chapters and come back to a pop quiz. Which, I know I will fail."

Both girls shared a short laughter.

"I'm Deena.” She introduced. “I'm new around here."

The waiter then came to take Deena's order while also setting down a grilled turkey sandwich with extra avocado and a side of fries for the girl. She finally placed down her book, giving thanks to the waiter before digging into her food.

The mouth-watering scent made Deena's stomach grumble. I’m so damn hungry.

"Davina," while washing down her fries with lemonade. "Not new here. But I noticed the accent. Where are you from?"

"France. More specifically, Le Havre." Deena replied. "You?"

"Born and raised. Also, don't hate me but the only place I know of France is Paris, but I'm sure Le Havre is a fun place to visit and live at."

Deena shrugged showing no offense to Davina's knowledge of France. She didn’t blame the girl since she knew nothing of the US besides New York, California, Florida, and Texas. They were normally the most talked about and the most used location in films. Also, it seemed a lot always happened in those states.

"It's cool. I actually didn't know Louisiana existed until a few days ago." Deena admitted.

"But here you are!"

She gave a small smile, agreeing. "Here I am."

Some moments later, the waiter delivered Deena's food; half cut Cuban sandwich with extra pickles and a sweet tea. She dug in without question.

Davina was a cool person to chat with. Easy-going, funny, and there was something about her energy Deena felt oddly connected to. Davina also felt an odd connection to Deena but brushed it off as she stuffed her mouth full.

There was a long list prepared for the day, but realized it was quite small and she had no starting point. I came here on a whim. With little to no planning, and childish hope.

But remembered Davina was from New Orleans. There's a possibility she might've ran into her father or seen him around somewhere. Or visited a store he owned. Or attended school with one of his kids. Or visited his grave.

"So, I was wondering since you're from around if you knew this man?" Deena wiped the oils from her fingers before reaching into her front backpack's pocket. Pulling out the photo of her mother and Klaus, she held it in front of Davina to inspect.

Davina noticeably froze upon viewing the photo. She had blinked a few times to make sure the man she saw wasn't just some random person she's misjudging but a man who was famously known throughout the streets and the supernatural world.

She pulled back from the table and picked at the grilled bread. "What do you want with him?" suddenly, she got hostile with Deena despite her pure intentions.

She knew him.

Deena sighed with relief. Davina obviously knew her father, but the cold tone she used when responding made her nervous. He must be married. With kids. Or nothing but a dead-beat. Or worse. Dead.

Deena returned the photo back into her backpack pocket with a shrug. "So you know him?"

"Yea, Klaus Mikaelson. Anyone who's done him bad or crossed his path on accident knows of him and his notorious siblings—"

"He has siblings?" Deena interjected.

"—oh yeah. Elijah and Rebekah Mikaelson and whoever comes back to life occasionally." She continued, slightly confusing Deena but she was happy to hear there's more than her father alive. "Terrorizing the city and the people who live within. Any person with a sense of mind would tell you to stay the hell away. You don't want anything to do with that psychotic man and his troubling siblings. His family is a curse to this city, to the communities, and they care for no one else but themselves. I'm sure the woman in that photo was killed by the hands of Klaus Mikaelson himself." She sneered.

Deena, not knowing this man nor his siblings personally, felt offended by Davina's harsh words because they were her family. And even worse, she accused her father murdering her mother. A beautiful soul who raised Deena with everything she could give her, found locked in her car with a letter admitting how unhappy she was with her life.

The smile on Deena’s face faltered to a deadpan glare as Davina bad-mouthed the family she had ties to. She noticed the change of her expression, but she thought nothing of it since she assumed she was doing good by scaring the curious French girl away from Klaus and far away from this cursed city.

Deena abruptly stood from her seat already gathering her belongings.

"W-where are you going? You haven't finished your— "

"The woman standing next to Klaus is my mother. And the man next to her, Klaus Mikaelson, is my father. And she wasn't murdered by him, she hated her life and everyone within it so she did the job herself." Deena vividly watched Davina grow with shock upon hearing Klaus was her father and was filled with sudden guilt from all she had said about her parents before. "But you are right about one thing; we are troubling. At least it keeps people away. So thanks for nothing. I'll find him my own damn self."

She wasn't sure how much the meal cost altogether and because the currency was slightly different, she left a big amount on the table which included a tip. She was out the restaurant in no time. Her head felt dizzy and she was hot all over heaving out steam, suddenly impacted by the overwhelming emotions she thought she had pushed back.

A month ago, Deena's mother passed away.

Her death made no sense. She was a cheerful woman who often hid away in her art studio painting and sketching for hours until it was time to pick Deena up from school. Students were often jealous because while other parents nagged on their child's grades and permitted curfews, Deena's mother never hovered over her shoulder about her grades and trusted Deena enough to be home within a reasonable time. And while other parents came dressed in their finest most classiest clothing for teacher conference nights or the school performances Deena was a part of, her mother came dressed straight out of a Fruits Magazine.

She was stressless, free, a kindred spirit, and an amazing mother. Sometimes Deena would forget her mother wasn't a close friend or an older sister despite having her at a young age. She was vocal about her problems and told Deena since a young age that "anger should never be placed into a bottle. Let the world hear you even if they say you scream too loud. They don't like Black girls expressing themselves in any manner if not with their heads down, so you must do it for the next little Black girl who's taking notes.".

But still, it made no sense.

The morning before she died, Deena's mother showed no signs of distress. She made banana pancakes, sent Deena off to school, and when she came home, her mother was working on a late piece for an art exhibition a friend in town invited her work to. She then left after dinner and was never seen for two days until Deena received a call from the police station. But it was questionable and she didn't understand it.

Why was she unhappy with life when she expected so much out of it? Why would she leave when she promised me the world? Why wasn’t she vocal with her depression in the same way she taught me to be vocal?

"Deena, wait!" Davina called out after placing down her half of the pay and rushed out the doors. She knew she was wrong for what she said and she felt terrible. "Look, I'm sorry! I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or bring your mother into this; I was only speaking from a personal experience which is no excuse at all. Next time, I should watch what I say. But..."

Deena kept walking. She struggled to drag her suitcase with her speed. The old wheels looked as if they were about to break off at any second, but she somehow managed to keep going.

Davina huffed annoyingly. "But I know where he is, Klaus Mikaelson," Deena halted her steps, facing the girl. "And I know where you can find him."

As Deena studied her face to find any spec of bluff hidden in her tone or written amongst her face, she saw she was telling the truth. She knew where her father currently hung around or lived, and of course, she wasn't going to question why or how she knew that kind of information.

"Where is he?" Asked Deena.

"The Abattoir. I can take you there since you might get lost. Also, you might want a travel buddy traveling in that particular area."

Deena sized the girl down. "Why? Will Klaus murder me too?"

"Again, I'm sorry about that." With her eyes narrowed, Davina apologized again. Deena still felt offended by what she said but since she genuinely felt sorry for it, about her mother at least, she decided to cut her some slack. She doesn't need an enemy on her first day in New Orleans. "Look, you're not from around and I'm sure you don't know about..."

Taking in Deena's blank stare, Davina then shook off the conversation and reached down for her suitcase. "Never mind, let's go."

Deena's hand was still on the handle, able to hold her grip from slipping it out her fingers and asked, "I don’t need your help. I can carry it myself." She tried pulling back but Davina somehow had the suitcase fully in her hands.

"It's about to break, I'm practically doing you a favor." She noticed the band stickers on her suitcase and claimed to have listened to some of them when she was thirteen.

Deena allowed her guard down and quickly followed behind Davina across the street before the main light turned green. She continued on about the particular bands she knew and who she used to stan and asked Deena about the bands she was unfamiliar with.

Somewhere during the conversation, "Thanks," it was soft but Davina caught it

She offered a soft smile. "You shouldn't thank me. I might not particularly like Klaus, but if he truly is your father, I wouldn’t live with myself by keeping you away from knowing him. At least then, hopefully, you might run away once you do."

"Is he really that bad of a man?"

Davina was quiet at her question. To her, Klaus wasn't just a bad man, he was terrible, and he almost killed her multiple times if it wasn't for Marcel having to save her. She wished she could tell Deena these things in hopes she would stay away, but no one wants to hear the bad of a man you've never met. Especially when he was your father. Family. It also wasn't her place to kill the image she might have of him.

Then she shrugged. "I will let you be the judge of that."

━━━━━━ ━━━━━━

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄. It was well kept for the most part but it was obvious this house had been through hell, Deena definitely thought Klaus was a deadbeat. This wasn't a family home, but it was a pretty big property. Maybe a rich deadbeat?

Together they stood staring up at the white doors ready to be knocked upon. Davina stared at the door with fear. Every witch sense coursing through her blood told her to turn away and run.

She knew she wasn't allowed here—that witches weren't allowed here, but she came to protect Deena.

Deena wasn't aware of the supernatural world or the fact that her father was a ruthless millennium-old psychotic hybrid, and what lies within the compound was an 'army' of hungry blood-sucking vampires who were already aware of their presence. Vampires who were too scared to leave Klaus if not slaughtered after the gruesome war against Marcel's army and enemies, and whoever they could rally up if Marcel hadn't got to them first.

Nevertheless, Davina watched her new friend lift her hand to knock on the door. Sucking in a deep breath, her knuckles were seconds away from alerting the vampires before something churned in her stomach. She quickly lowered her hand and hurried away.

"I can't do this." Deena panicked.

Davina lingered a bit longer at the door before rushing after her. "Where are you going? He's right inside." She shouted, dragging along the suitcase.

"I can't do it." She breathed heavily. "I-I don't know why I came here in the first place. And I hate myself for being curious, but I don't think I can do it. I should go home with the money I have left."

There was so much roaming through Deena's brain all at once. She thought she was ready to meet with him, but she wasn't, or at least she was convincing herself that she's not. But after losing the only family she had, Deena had grown lonely and desperate for someone to care about her and love her as much as her mother did. That's why she went through her mother's things. She trashed her mother's room, the kitchen, the attic, even her own room in the process. She didn't know what she was searching for until she discovered the letter.

It was meant to be given on her 18th birthday, a couple of months early.

But now that she was here, she didn't feel as pumped as before. Maybe she should've thought a bit longer on the idea before hopping on the next plane to New Orleans? Maybe she was getting too ahead of herself? Maybe this wasn't the right thing for her to do?

Davina grabbed Deena just as she was about to cross the street and tugged on her arm so that she was facing her. "Just breathe." She attempted to calm her down.

Deena rolled her eyes. "I am breathing."

"No, you're not. You look like you're about to pass out." Despite her annoyance, Deena forced herself to calm down. Once seeing she had, Davina narrowed her gaze before speaking. "I have no words to comfort you. Hell, I can't even comfort myself, but I can tell you, that you will regret not meeting him and him not knowing you. You have a chance that many kids don't have; I don't even know whether my dad is alive or not, but you do. And you should take it."

"I feel like I'm gonna ruin his life." Deena admitted.

Davina scoffed with a dragged 'please'.

"I'm serious. How would you feel living a life of your own for however many years and suddenly a seventeen-year-old kid comes knocking at your front door claiming to be your daughter? I would close the door in her face and continue my show!"

"If I was Klaus Mikaelson, I would be pretty damn blessed to have a kid with my blood in their veins at my doorstep. You never know."

"He must be a pretty famous man the way you speak of him."

She shrugged. "You can say that. But look," She took hold of Deena's hand. "Go meet him. Let him know who you are. And if you regret it, you can take the first plane back to Le..."

"Le Havre," she completed.

"Right. Le Havre. And I will be right here supporting you."

Davina was right. At least she had a chance to get to know her father while many don't and she shouldn't let the opportunity pass by. She sucked in a deep breath and began making her way to the white doors, but just as soon as she took her first step, she was stopped by Davina's stretched arm hitting her chest. She appeared focused, waiting for something to come.

She pushed away Davina's arm from deep within her chest, but she stopped her again.

Deena rolled her eyes with a huff. "You give me some go-for-it-speech and now you don't want me to seize the moment while I'm ready?"

"Something isn't right," Davina eased out with worry.

Deena would've guessed the brunette was another spiderman from an alternate universe the way she peered around her surroundings like a guard dog. Or spidey senses, she'd call it. She didn't see nor feel what Davina was and there was no one within their proximity when glancing around to catch what she caught, so she wasn't sure what had her on edge.

"You are right," Both girls jumped at the deep voice of a brown-skinned woman who spoke with a slight thick accent. She wore a green tank-top with dark blue jeans and she had to be around thirty years old, and she was looking at Deena as she came forward. "Something isn't right."

Despite the weird look, at least Deena knew she wasn't a stranger judging by Davina's calm expression and her tensed shoulders releasing.

She removed her arm from Deena's chest with a sigh. "Zoeè? What are you doing on this side of town?"

"I could ask you the same, harvest girl?"

Davina doesn't respond.

"I sensed someone—" Her brown eyes flickered to Deena. "—special entered the city and came runnin' soon as I could. And now that the cloaking spell has worn off and the prophecy is clear, all that I need to seal the deal is standing right in front of me."

Davina stepped in front of Deena in a protective manner once putting together two and two. "I don't know what this is about but let's not do it here. You and I both aren’t safe in this area—" merely glancing back. "—and she has nothing to do with this. This is between me and you."

Deena was clearly confused. "I'm sorry but who is this?"

"Don't matter who I am. What matters is what you gone do to our kind once the Mikaelsons find out you're alive."

Whatever happened, happen so fast that Deena was unable to process absolutely nothing. After Davina screamed out, she pushed her back and lifted her hands in a wizard-like manner before she was thrown against the building wall with no effort.

Deena followed the invisible force to the woman, Zoeè who's smiling back at her and scattered away. She would have ran after Davina, but her first instinct was to get herself to safety first and take a moment to digest what the hell just happened.

"Solem," With a flick of a wrist, Deena failed to cross the road before she found darkness and the cold ground.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read here

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Guess who just had the most hijinx filled AU in mind? Imagine if the mentors from TBOSAS are all high society elites (like in canon) while the tributes are several shades of impoverished lower working class? Not like canon, because at least they’re seen as humans here :p. Despite them all working in different industries and not really living in the same area, the poor kids are all somewhat connected. I will fuck around with the ages here, but they may be a little older than in canon. What started all of this is wedding shenanigans so I’ll try to briefly summarize what’s happening:

Persephone is getting married to Festus. She’s a teacher/mentor to Mizzen, who is the little brother of Coral, one of the bodyguards for the event. Coral’s girlfriend Lucy Gray is the lead singer of the band that’ll provide the music at the event. Said lead singer is friends with the head bartender Jessup, who is friends with the maid of honor Lysistrata. Both Jessup and Lucy Gray have loose friendship ties to the waitstaff. This web of connections runs deep and I’m gonna make a family tree type thing for it at some point lmao. Now for the fun part:

The mother of the groom shows up in a truly gorgeous, expensive, exquisite designer dress. A white one. Persephone is, of course, in tears, but Festus can’t get his mom to change and for social status reasons they can’t kick her out. Luckily for them, they won’t have to. See, Lysistrata goes to Jessup to get Persephone’s favorite drink to help console her and tells him what’s going on. Jessup passes the information on to Lucy Gray, who gets an Idea. See, she is friendly with Treech, one of the waiters. They met when her band the Covey played orchestra in the theater where Treech works as an actor. It was a show where he had a starring role and they interacted a lot because of it. So she tells him what’s going down and asks if he could… put an end to this little problem. Treech happily agrees and ropes the other waiters into plotting.

Not even ten minutes later, when Persephone comes out for the pictures, Treech “stumbles” with a platter of red wine and very accidentally falls. Right on top of the mother of the groom. Oh no! What a coincidence!! He’s near tears he’s so sorry for what he’s done as he “helps clean her dress” and very unintentionally rubs the stain into the fabric, spreading it out further. Whoops. The mother of the groom (MOG) screams at him for minutes and goes to hit him, but Lamina distracts her by moving in close and starting to “clean up the dress” with a dark napkin that was soaked in more red wine earlier. Treech nopes away long enough for MOG to forget his face and then helps escort her to change into a new, non-white dress.

The entire staff gets a massive tip that day.

[devilfic]

❝small favor❞

IV. another white guy from new york.

parts: previously / next plot: it's uncanny, but it can't be. right? because that would be stupid. and spider-man isn't stupid. right? pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: violence, guns, knives, blood mention, alcohol consumption, peter parker isn't beating the average white guy allegations, well. when he smiles like that he might. words: 6.7k.

You almost expect them to turn you away at the door when you hand over your badge, some paranoid part of you thinking they’ll take one look at you and know you don’t belong here, but the man at the check-in hands it back to you with a pleasant, “Enjoy your evening.”

That was half an hour ago, and Parker was nowhere in sight.

He was going to “meet you there” as Jameson promised, though without a clue what to look for, you found yourself aimlessly floating through perfume clouds of high society. You didn’t want to hit the bar this close to eight, but if you didn’t find an anchor quick, you’d vibrate right through the floor. Worst of all, you didn’t even have the guy’s number. What would you do if he was a no-show?

Your job, you suppose, sullen and already dreading the evening to come.

There’s no sign of Wilson Fisk either. In your usual setting, you might’ve already flagged down a guest or two to ask what they thought about the rumors, but your usual settings were messy, bloody, and out in the real world. Here, you had a list of questions to ask that didn’t even scratch your curiosity.

What’s your name? Are you excited to be here this evening? How does the Stark Charity Ball reflect the New York City you know and love? Were you attacked? Can you confirm Wilson Fisk was on the scene?

You hadn’t even made it to the fourth question before you’d given up. How would you last a night like this?

Slithering through the crowd, you make your way to the snack table with hopes to eat your way through the night. At least you could count on rich people to shell out on good cheese.

There’s a band playing in the corner, a gentle stringed melody that you appreciate over the chatter of the guests. You make your way over and let yourself get carried away in the tune, only glancing every so often at your watch to gauge the time. It was nine minutes to eight, nine minutes until Pepper Potts took the stage to start the night, and you still had no idea where your partner was.

It’s almost natural the way your hand finds your phone, swiping over the familiar contact name and pressing out a quick message.

The party can’t start without you.

Towering windows make up most of the ballroom, fading sunlight overpowering the chandeliers above, and you take advantage in hopes it might reveal your webbed friend hanging off the roof.

Almost immediately, you get a text back.

Aww, you really do like me :) No kidding. Are you already in place? Just about. Doing a quick perimeter check. You enjoying the party? I would be if my partner was here on time. Hey, cut Parker some slack! His train’s probably late and I don’t see any signs of Kingpin yet. I'm just glad you've stopped trying to fight me on this. If you can’t beat ‘em... And maybe look up every once in a while, you’re gonna run into somebody.

Just as your eyes scan the very last word, your senses go haywire. There’s cold liquid running down your hand and you've just run into something. When you finally tear your eyes away from your phone, you unfortunately realize that something is now wearing the remainder of your drink.

People nearby have formed a clearing around you, but it feels less out of courtesy and more to point and laugh at you. Regardless, you’ve got to fix this, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?”

Your victim stands in a small puddle of sangria, the front of their tux dripping in it still, and you could see how red stains crawled up crisp white. You could only imagine how much every bit of their suit cost (and the Daily Bugle definitely didn’t have the budget to cover it).

They lift their copper head and you’re at first struck by the smile on their face, then the peppering of freckles across the bridge of their nose, and finally... their name.

He carefully removes his suit jacket to assess the damage to his shirt, “Nah, don’t worry. I was looking for a reason to leave early anyway.”

You’re breathless, certain you should be rushing to grab towels or begging him not to sue you into oblivion, but you don’t really get that far, “I’m... really sorry.”

He laughs, so genuine that you feel the tension in your shoulders deflate just at the sound. Just then, a waiter rushes over with a hand towel, insisting he lead him to the men’s room to clean up, but he’s waved off with little more than a “thank you” and “I’ll survive, I promise.”

He steps out of the puddle to allow someone to clean it up, bringing him that much closer to you. When he's done with the towel, he hands it off to you. His eyes trail to your chest and his eyes widen some, “The Daily Bugle. You a reporter?”

You realize he’s spotted your press badge and rush to introduce yourself, wiping absentmindedly at your sticky hand, “Uh... yes. Actually. Crime beat reporter.” You set your empty cup on a passing waiter’s tray and hold out your clean hand to shake.

His hand is warm, if not a little sticky like yours, though you have no grounds to complain, “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know.”

He quirks an eyebrow, still smiling, “Then... was that drink a calculated assault?”

“No! God, no. I genuinely wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not very safe for a crime beat reporter, don’t you think?”

You’ve got to be on fire. You feel like it, struggling between a laugh and a whine, “I’m sorry you had to be the one to teach me that lesson.”

“No worries. Like I said, you did me a favor.” Harry glances around, “So… you're reporting on what, exactly? You betting on a robbery or something?”

The humor of that isn't lost on you, “Actually, I’m filling in tonight. Our usual reporter definitely wouldn’t have ruined your nice shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find this stain rather charming.”

You can’t help it. You giggle and he smiles even wider, “May I ask why you want to escape so soon?”

“Not if you’re gonna write it down.”

“Off the record? In exchange for the stain.”

Harry Osborn has a boyish look to him even though he’s steadily approaching 26, some baby fat still clinging to his cheekbones when he smiles wide enough, “Well, this was my first stop since hopping off a nine hour flight from Oxford and I’m, as the English say, absolutely knackered. I was gonna leave in half an hour after photos but…” He laughs, casting a look over his shoulder at the stage, “I’ve made my donation. I won’t be missed.”

Perking up with an idea, you reach into your bag and pull out a recorder, “In that case, how about I get you down for a comment on your generous donation of…”

“Five million.”

You blink, swallowing hard, “Five million… to make up for it? I'll even throw in a few questions about your study at Oxford. I hear you're working on a revolutionary breakthrough with lab-grown bacteria that breaks down plastic.”

Harry's eyes light up. For a moment, the image of Harry Osborn is just Harry, “You sure Jameson would let you publish something nice about an Osborn?”

The Daily Bugle was no friend to Spider-Man, but neither was it a friend to Norman Osborn. You recall some of the more scalding headlines about Oscorp’s president that you’d published in the past. It was the one thing you and Jameson could agree on. “You know Jameson well?”

“Of course. I’ve got a buddy who works there too, actually. You might know him. His name’s-”

Harry’s voice is drowned out by the collective oohing and awing of the crowd when the lights dim, shrouding the grand ballroom in the fading glow of the sun. The stage, once empty, is now illuminated with the presence of Pepper Potts. Uproarious applause fills the room. Harry smiles politely at you. His buddy would be a conversation for later.

You want to focus on Pepper, you really do, but it’s like you’ve broken out of a spell the second Harry’s eyes leave yours, and you find yourself once again scanning the crowd for Parker. There was no good reason for him to be this late and you couldn’t even give him a piece of your mind about it.

You shoot off an indignant text to Peter.

Your guy better have been hit by a cyclist on the way here or he’s getting an earful when I see him. Pepper looks amazing :(

But no instant reply. In fact, three minutes pass and there’s nothing. You glance up to the windows for any sign of him watching and find none. Was... he here?

You glance at Harry. If Jillian were here, she’d punch you in the face for what you’re about to do, for the opportunity you're about to squander. Okay, maybe not a punch, but it’d be violent.

But then you’re thinking about Peter, about that night that changed everything, about his blood and bruises and the men with guns for hands. You think about how Peter worried for you. You think about Harry, who has just donated five million dollars to charity, and how there are over a hundred more of him packed in this ballroom right now. You think about Wilson Fisk, and how much havoc he could wreak if he put Spider-Man out for good.

And then you're elbowing yourself through the crowd, searching for the nearest emergency stairwell, hoping that if Peter’s still watching he might meet you halfway. Parker and those questions be damned. You'd find a way to make it up to Jameson somehow.

You’re about ten feet away from the nearest exit when someone takes a hold of your wrist, a few seconds away from the end of Pepper’s speech, and whoever is holding you back has a grip so iron it stings. You can’t clearly see the face of who’s grabbed you but it doesn’t feel familiar. Your heart jumps into your throat. Had Fisk's men infiltrated the room already? Had they gotten to Spidey? Did they know you? Were you next?

You’ve got no pocket knife on you, but you have a fist.

You curl your fingers inward and aim right for your captor’s head. Your fist makes contact with skin. The room erupts into thunderous applause. The lights go up.

You never actually land the punch, but your captor looks a little too wide-eyed to be one of Fisk’s men, too soft in the face. His own hand has completely stopped yours in its tracks, just a hair away from breaking his nose, and he’s staring at you like a deer in headlights. A big, brown doe-eyed deer. “Uh, hi,” your eyes flicker down to the camera hanging from his neck, almost blocking the badge beneath it that reads "P. B. Parker", and then you meet his eyes with the same bewilderment, “sorry I’m late.”

Parker is about average height with a build you can't quantify when his shirt is draping off him. It's a ridiculously huge plaid thing, the kind of thing someone would wear to hide themselves, but all he does is stand out in the sea of Armani and Givenchy. Old jeans, old shirt, high-tops, and a muddy-grey beanie to top it all off. It was a wonder they let him in the door at all.

What you can feel is the strength behind his hand as it holds your fist in place. Some people are looking—you realize, after the tremors of your punch reverberate back up your arm—and so you yank your hand back before any security can take notice.

Your partner waits a full second before holding out his own, offering a subtle, wobbly smile, "I would've been here sooner but... traffic, ya know?"

His voice is low, you notice this next. Practically a mumble. You kind of realize why your coworkers said you weren't missing much; outside of his awkward mannerisms and sweet, unassuming baby face, he looked like any other white guy from New York. He also seemed like he didn't want to be seen or heard, and you imagined that Jameson had no problem with that.

But his mumbling forces you to take notice of his lips so you can read them, and their thin, blushy quality is only marred by a little dryness. Broken by biting or... or something. "You're late." Is all you manage to say.

His lips part, turning downward, "Yeah, I know," he stutters, the pitch of his voice going up a hair, "I said- um, I caught the last half of Mrs. Potts’ speech." And then he turns his camera to you, flicking through images that are too small on the screen for you to assess the quality of. You actually have no doubt they're good, but you're upset he's late and you're certain there's nothing remarkable about this guy—nothing at all—and yet you can't stop staring.

"You know Spidey?" You blurt out next, and his eyes widen and zero in on you. You don't know why he's surprised. "He's mentioned me, hasn't he?"

Parker blinks, "Oh! Yeah. Yeah. All the time. You're very... good. At your job."

"Thank you. So are you."

And wouldn't you know it, he actually blushes. It's sweet and alarming how quickly red blooms across the apples of his cheeks, how his hands wobble around his camera a bit, how it disarms you for a moment. It'd be cute if you could just figure out what about him was throwing you off.

In fact, you're so enthralled in figuring out that something that you see his lips moving but just miss his question, barely hearing the tail-end of it. You watch his lips again as you ask him to repeat it, but the musicians have started up a jaunty tune with trumpets and high white keys, so you duck closer to him and ask him to repeat it once more.

"I asked-" And as you get closer, you have an excuse to look at him more deeply.

Your eyes follow the curve of his mouth to his chin (and all its little hairs that he hadn't caught shaving), down to his neck where you see, just peeking out beneath the lip of his beanie, a curl. You've abandoned his question now. You just feel, as strange as it is, that you need a closer look...

Your hand is moving before your mind can catch up with it, until it's caught in Parker's halfway to his throat. You're so close to him that you can see the way the skin of his chin rolls with the effort to lean away from you, or the honey speckles in his eyes that are all but eclipsed by his blown-wide pupils.

His fingers are latched around yours. He's not using the same strength he was before, doesn't need to, but you can sort of feel it beneath the callouses. Even then, it's so gentle. You don't know why you react with just as mush wonder. The world might as well be at half-speed. You almost wish him to speak again because you've got nothing to say for yourself here.

Parker looks on at you, still holding onto your hand. He smells... like the city.

"Do you-" He starts, chokes on his spit, and then swallows, "are you always this friendly when you're tipsy?"

You blanch. "What? I'm not-" You yank your hand back, cup it to your mouth and nose, and breathe in the sangria. Could he smell it on your breath? "I'm not tipsy. I barely even had a drink before I spilled it all over..."

You catch Parker's eye to find him looking interested. "Spilled it all over...?"

"Someone. Whatever. It was an accident."

"You spilled your drink on someone?"

"It was an accident."

"You know, I was feeling real bad about showing up late, but Jameson's gonna have a field day with this." You're mortified. He wasn't interested, he was amused. "Are we gonna get sued?"

"No!" Your voice draws the attention of a couple nearby, making you shrink even closer to Parker, "I told you it was an accident and I apologized. And you're still not off the hook for being late."

He folds his arms across his chest, smiles steadily this time, and agrees. The action is so unmistakable that it saps all the lightheartedness right out of you. Parker notices the change.

The only thing that breaks the moment is Harry Osborn finding you both.

Your head whips at the first "Peter!", thinking you'll see red and blue somewhere nearby, but Harry is gunning straight for Parker with the widest smile on his face. You break away just in time for him to envelop Parker in a big, friendly hug that would've knocked Parker off his feet if not for how solid he was. A few onlookers take in the scene, some amused, others not so much.

It takes you a moment to digest that Harry meant Parker, had called him Peter with such love and affection that there was no way he was mistaken, and Parker had returned the hug a beat later without correcting him.

There were probably a million Peters in New York alone. And yet...

They stay intertwined a minute longer, only breaking away so that Harry could hold... Peter's face in his hands. "Peter Parker! What the hell are you doing here?" Harry seems to remember you're there. He releases Peter and points to you, "So, you two know each other after all. Pete's the buddy at the Bugle I told you about. We've been best friends for years."

As if this Peter business wasn't enough for you to wrap your head around, you struggle to imagine these two being best friends. One of New York City's richest heirs and a contractor for the Daily Bugle. Your disbelief is evident as you ask, "How did you two meet...?"

"College. We went to ESU together. We were even roommates before I went off to Oxford." Harry smiles proudly, patting Peter on the back. It's then that you notice Peter is looking very, very uncomfortable. You wonder for a moment if this is all some elaborate joke Harry's playing, but it hadn't struck you as his type of humor.

This is, in fact, a man named Peter Parker. He works for the Daily Bugle, he's best friends with Harry Osborn, he works with Spider-Man, and they both share a name. Unremarkable Peter Parker. Nothing you were missing, they'd said.

Peter must see that you're focused hard on him, so he turns to Harry, "Yeah, Oxford. Why aren't you... there? Again?"

Harry laughs, unbothered, "Don't tell me you didn't miss me?"

"No, it's just... last I remember, your dad wanted you there until your project got approved."

The very mention of Norman Osborn kills the mood entirely. Harry's smile falls quick, though he tries to hide it, and shuffles a bit uncomfortably. "That was the deal. But you know dad: the world revolves around his every whim." Harry's eyes cut to you so fast that you tense up, recovering quickly. "Off the record."

Jillian would not accept that. You, on the other hand, swallow it down and tuck it away for another day, "Anything for a friend of a friend."

That gets Harry smiling again, however terse. The conversation quickly changes course as Harry pulls at the stained white of his shirt to show Peter, "Speaking of: you like? Our new mutual friend gave it to me."

Peter glances at you, chuckling with a nervous edge, and grabs at the fabric to examine for himself, "Something tells me you deserved it."

Harry immediately resorts to banter that Peter melts into. It was no doubt now that they were friends, that Peter's awkwardness had only been on account of you being here.

You can only smile and nod, smile and nod, while you watch Peter's every move. You couldn't say anything even though you were bursting, but now your heart was beginning to pound in your ears, making it hard for you to do what you were trying to pretend you weren't doing.

Spider-Man was smart. Beneath the quips, he was extremely smart. He wouldn't tell you his real name and then show up here as a civilian, so brazen, knowing that you'd instantly figure out it was him. That'd be too easy. He trusted you, sure, but he wasn't stupid. He'd been uncomfortable at the very thought of unmasking when you'd mentioned it last night. If Peter was... Peter, he wouldn't have come at all. Because that would be stupid.

And he wouldn't have bothered to pretend, up until the last second, that he wasn't Peter, if he was just going to flay himself before you like this. Because you would've figured it out eventually.

So, surely, there were a million Peters in New York and you happened to know two of them. And they knew each other. And one of them was a superhero. Of course.

You slip your phone out, checking your recent messages with your heart in your throat. If Peter wasn't Peter, he'd have texted you back by now. Because Peter—fuck—Spidey wouldn't miss a chance to make that joke.

There's one new message. You barely get to see what it says before broken glass sprays from above.

There’s a cacophony of sound all at once. Glass breaking, screaming amongst the crowd, and the sound of gunfire letting off into the ceiling. One minute, the room had been in peaceful bliss, and the next, a tidal wave of terrified guests were rushing at you.

You’re lucky that Peter’s arm is like iron, strong enough to rip you back and away from the crowd that converges on the exits, because if you had stayed in your spot for a second longer you would have been trampled underfoot. Like your phone, which is in pieces the second it slips out of your hand.

Harry is there too, huddled against the two of you in the corner, but that doesn’t stop you three from all being pressed upon by the panicking crowds. There’s no rhyme or reason, no order in the chaos. Beautiful clutches embedded with Swarovski crystals lay abandoned at your feet. Everyone in the room can see, whatever it might be, that their life is worth more than a single thing in this room. Even worth more than the lives of the other guests they shove to get out first.

You try your best to see over the heads of the swarm to get a glimpse of what had set the entire party off, and immediately two things are visible. One: Pepper Potts is center stage, the bright white stage lights beating down on her. If it weren’t for the sweat beading at her brow, you’d think her bored. The second thing was that there was a man standing beside her who wasn’t standing there before, a microphone in one hand and a gun in the other.

Even from all the way at the back of the room, you could see the gun trembling in his grip as the barrel kissed Pepper’s temple.

The next thing is his voice. It’s loud, feedback screeching off the walls so high that you think they might shatter the windows. The crowd is loud and he’s louder. You can hear him saying something about how everyone shouldn’t leave just yet, that they’d want to see this front row and not on the 10 o’clock news. You do not see Kingpin. This man is utterly alone.

Harry is shouting something at you, you can feel his breath and the spit that flies out in the hurry of his words, but you can barely make out what he’s saying over the guests. Peter clutches you both even closer.

“We… we have to…” You start, glancing up at the windows for any sign of Spider-Man, but you see nothing. Your eyes drop to Peter’s to find him already staring right at you. You’ve no idea what’s going through his head, and the adrenaline rushing behind your eyes makes it hard to speculate. You only know what you need to say, “…we need to find Spider-Man.”

“We need to leave!” Harry argues. He wriggles out of Peter’s grip and starts pulling you both toward the nearest exit, but he only makes progress with pulling you forward.

You were about to argue back until you felt Peter’s hand at the base of your spine, pushing you into Harry with ease and right toward one of the exit doors. You turn, clutching onto Harry as to not lose him in the crowd, only to find Peter isn’t following you. “You both need to get out of here.”

“Both? Wh- Peter! We’re not leaving without you!” Your attempt to grab at him is futile. He shrugs away from your touch, keeps pushing you and Harry through the stampede as if he really intended on staying behind. “Peter!”

He finally looks you in the eyes that second time, the desperation with which you’d said his name snapping him out of some dissociative spell, “I’ll be right behind you! I’m gonna help get people out. Some got trampled, I-I’ve got to-”

Harry is next to admonish him, “Pete, come on. This isn’t the time to play fucking hero!”

But Peter’s not listening again—eyes faraway, slipping over the crowd as if searching for something—he’s heading back into the fray, calling to you some half-hearted promise that he’d follow soon, and then his head disappears into the whirlwind of bodies. You were able to follow him up until the moment his hat got pulled off, and then… nothing.

The current pushes and pulls at you and Harry, dragging you down the hallway. You feel your ankle twist awkwardly and are thankful that Harry is still clinging to you because had he not been, you would’ve been dragged down and trampled for sure. He holds you upright, pressing you to his side, assuring you over the noise that you’d go back in to get Peter in a minute.

You think that Harry Osborn is much kinder than his father seemed to be, and that you really do owe him a good soundbite in the Bugle after this.

You feel a draft coming from outside, promising you were close to being free from the confines of the hallway. You grab Harry’s hands and peel them off of you, pushing him forward into the crowd without a second thought, just as you see the light of the city come up ahead. His head whips to you. He calls your name as he’s swept away, but you press yourself hard against the wall and let the crowd lead him out to safety.

The crawl back to the ballroom is awful.

There are fewer people escaping, thankfully, and so it’s less like an undertow, but there are so many people and all of them are perfectly fine with throwing their bodies forward with caution thrown to the wind.

It takes you longer than a minute to get back to the door you’d come out of, even longer to squeeze through with elbows hitting you square in the chest and heels digging into your feet.

The room is less than a third of what it had been when the gunman had arrived. You frantically search for Peter in the remaining, scattered crowd; people are frozen in awe, in horror. Some people in the crowd were begging the gunman to reconsider, and others were praying. Your heart sank. A woman was about to die and there was virtually nothing you could do.

You look up to the windows one more time. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t call him, but you close your eyes and pray too. Whoever he was. Wherever he was.

And then you hear it. The familiar thwip! cuts through the air. You open your eyes and a second later, the clatter of the gunman’s pistol hitting the floor follows. You’re blessed with a whole five seconds of glee before the gunman surges forward and pulls a knife on Pepper, holding it to her throat in a panic.

“Easy there, buddy.” Your head snaps up to the rafters. From a single thread of spider silk, Spidey descends from the ceiling with a hand outstretched. He’s a ways away from the two of them, offering some sense of space. “You don’t wanna do this.”

The gunman has since abandoned his microphone, but his voice reverberates in the near empty room just fine, “Get out of here, Spider-Man! You’re next!”

“Why don’t you and I hash it out, then? Just you and me. Leave Mrs. Potts out of it.”

“No, no,” the man mutters; you can hear sirens growing closer to the building, “she’s part of it. You’re all part of it.”

Pepper speaks up for the first time, “Whatever you want, I can get it. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say. The man jerks his knife closer to her skin and you can see, after a moment, a thin bead of red dribbles down her collarbone.

Spidey holds out both his hands, “Whoa, whoa, whoa-”

And it happens in a flash. One second, Pepper is being held at knifepoint, and the next, she’s being pushed off the stage.

Spider-Man immediately swoops in and catches her, swinging her to safety on the other side of the room, but you’re too mesmerized by the new body on stage pinning the attacker down by the throat. How you’d missed him, you’ve no clue, but he’s wrestling the man onto his stomach and restraining his arms behind his back just as the doors to the ballroom are thrown wide open.

Cops stream in, rushing the stage to take the gunman into custody. Some head straight for Spider-Man and Pepper, but it’s the guests that catch your attention. There are maybe fifty of them in the room altogether, but applause catches on like wildfire. All of them, and the musicians and the cops at the door, erupt into applause.

Because the man on stage, the man who’d thrown himself at the gunman and disarmed him, the man who had just saved Pepper Potts’ life… was Wilson Fisk.

You can’t find Harry anywhere. Most of the guests had stayed behind out of sheer curiosity, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

You stand out on the sidewalk with the rest of the crowd as the police escort the gunman into a cop car, murmurs flitting from ear to ear on who he’d been, what he’d wanted, and whether they should stay behind for interviews. Pepper was still inside getting questioned. But Wilson Fisk was out here.

You’d been in the same room as Fisk only once before, the night of his infamous press conference three years ago when you were still an intern trailing after the likes of Jillian. He’d struck you as a measured man, one who carried himself with impenetrable humility, and even in the face of his detractors kept a cool head.

Back then, he’d been accused of money laundering, something to do with all his companies not adding up. In and out of trouble, he was. Jameson had likened him to a cockroach: never quite dead, even when he really ought to be by now.

And now he stands before reporters, guests, onlookers, and the like, giving a statement about his “harrowing” rescue of Mrs. Potts. He hadn’t even been invited.

You know you should be right up there with the rest of them, fiending for a soundbite, but you’re gnawing your bottom lip from afar trying to catch him in a lie. Something about this was refusing to add up, and thankful as you were that Pepper was safe, the whole thing was off. Convenient, even.

You watch him smile and nod, none of the charm ever reaching his dead eyes, but everyone eats it up anyway.

Just as you’re about to force yourself to head over, knowing Jameson would have your head otherwise, you’re flying.

“Jesus!” You screech, scrambling to cling onto Spidey as the crowd below watches the two of you swing away. Your stomach drops as he carries you to a nearby rooftop, and you all but collapse when you meet solid ground. “Oh my God, don’t ever do that again.” You expect a quip in return, but when you look behind you, Spider-Man is sitting with his head on his knees, utterly silent. Your stomach drops again, “Spidey?”

That gets him to look at you, big white eyes narrowing, “We’re not on a first name basis anymore?”

You’re stunned, and then you scowl, “Peter Parker.” When he says nothing, you repeat it, “Peter Parker.”

“That’s his name.”

“His? Or yours?”

His eyes stay narrowed at you, only now his head is lifted upright, “I’m not the only Peter in New York.”

“I’m sorry if I find it a little suspicious there’s a Peter Parker who works at the Daily Bugle selling the only decent photos of you in the city, who just so happens to share your name and- and your lips.” That last part awkwardly tumbles out of you and his eyes are no longer narrowed.

“My lips?”

Peter’s lips flash in your mind. You don’t know how to say it without sounding more suspicious than him, “You’re… you both… your mouths are very similar.”

A beat passes. The silence isn’t enough to convince you you’re wrong, but it is enough to make you fidget.

But then Peter bursts into laughter, and, well, it’s not funny to you at all. “Quit it.” You demand, meek.

“I’m sorry, I just- I stick to walls and you think it’s crazy that we’re both named Peter?”

“You can’t convince me I’m off with this one.”

“There were like… four Peters in my graduating class!”

“He even kind of sounded like you! When I could hear him clearly.”

“He sounds nothing like me!”

“He sounds a lot like you.” You say, and wish that there had been a moment when you’d caught him speaking at an octave higher than his, frankly, forced baritone and an octave below shouting. Peter—this Peter—has a voice you know well enough. You’ve memorized his vocal fry when his voice gets a little too high, that nervous ramble-y pitch of his. It’s so distinct. If you had just… heard him use it just once, “You can’t make me feel crazy about this.”

“’m not trying to make you feel crazy, I swear. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I’d be skeptical too.” You wait patiently for a confirmation or a denial, but he gives you none. He takes a deep breath and stares out over the edge of the building where Fisk is being escorted to his car. You crawl over to sit beside him.

Part of you wants to ask him to prove it, to peel his mask off and show you, but you can’t make yourself do it. He’d only just given you his name. He trusted you with that. You’re wary about pushing it.

Because the pieces fit so well, but he’d never make that kind of mistake. Would he?

Would he think it was a mistake?

Peter sighs. “Hey, you alright?” You ask.

He doesn’t really look at you, though his voice answers at a lower volume than before, "This was too convenient.” You hum in agreement. “That guy… he said we were all ‘part of it’. Like it was planned.”

“You think Fisk planned it.”

“I think he’s a little too eager to be in the spotlight about it.” But getting that off his chest doesn’t seem to change the solemnness in his tone.

“Pepper was never in danger.” Your hand presses against the scratchy concrete, itching to touch him. To comfort him. “If this was Fisk’s plan, it was all for publicity. Pepper was never gonna get hurt.”

“She got hurt.” Peter whips his head to you.

You knew Iron Man was his mentor, had plucked him off the streets and thrust him into a world of gods and aliens before his untimely death. And maybe with Tony gone, he thought it was his job to keep her safe.

“Peter, you can’t… you can’t think like that. You can punch your way through a lot of things, but that? That back there? You did what you could.”

“I could do more.”

You get that urge to touch him again, only this time, you let yourself do it.

Your hand touches the side of his mask, cupping below his ear. He watches you the entire time but doesn’t move to stop you. Your thumb rests on his cheek and your pinky- it brushes the overlap between his mask and the rest of his suit, “It’s not just that you’re Peter, too.”

You feel the muscles in his neck twitch, “What?”

“It’s that… in all that chaos, you chose to stay behind. To help people. You made sure me and Harry got out, but you stayed behind. Everyone was so busy trying to save their own lives and you were thinking about them. I don’t know Peter Parker very well. Maybe he’s just that kind of guy. But I know you. I know if anyone in that room was you, he’d be it.” Peter doesn’t say anything. You feel the tension in his jaw, feel the way his throat bobs with a hard swallow, but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you. You stare hard into those white eyes and imagine a someone staring back at you. “Or maybe that’s just the kind of people Spider-Man hangs out with.”

He huffs humorously, “Yeah, that checks out. We’re friends, after all.”

Your heart swells to hear it, “friends”. “Don’t make this about me when I’m trying to expose your secret identity.”

“I think Peter Parker would be flattered you think so highly of him. He was kind of worried he made the wrong impression… after you tried to punch him in the face.”

Your jaw drops, having nearly forgotten in the mess of the night. “Well, maybe Peter Parker shouldn’t go around grabbing people in the dark.”

“You were walking so fast. How else would Peter Parker get your attention?”

“Are you just saying Peter Parker over and over to convince me that you’re both completely different people?”

“I just think it’s funny that you don’t believe more than two Peters can live in the same city.”

“There are other factors!”

“Can’t believe you’re the type of reporter who flies by the seat of their assumptions. But you do work for Jameson, after all.” When Peter stands, you naturally follow.

You decide to switch tactics, bruising the alter ego, “You- you know what? You’re right. You couldn’t be Peter Parker. Peter Parker would be shaking and crying if I so much as raised my voice at him.”

“Wow. I’m gonna tell him you said that—wrap your arms around me?” And he snakes an arm around your waist, sending your heart into overdrive again, “he’s never gonna talk to you again. He’s probably gonna issue a copyright claim every time you put his pics on the Web-Blog, now. Legs too.”

“Wait, no. We are not swinging again. We are taking the stairs.”

“How else am I gonna get you off the roof? Legs, please.”

“We can take the stairs!”

“Door’s probably locked and Kingpin’s already on his way back to his super-secret evil lair. Legs or I’m webbing you up in a baby wrap.”

You grumble. It’s enough to make you grab onto his shoulders and jump, locking your ankles across his back with the fear of gravity instilled in you. You reckoned he’d be fast enough to catch you if you did fall. The very possibility makes you sick to your stomach, though. “Please don’t drop me.”

Peter dips his chin into the crevice where your neck meets your shoulder. "Don't worry," and it's not even that you hear his voice, you just feel it, "I've only dropped someone once."

And you're plummeting off the ledge before you get the chance to run away.

[firapolemos05]

No devil hides beneath my bed

Part 1, Part 2

AO3 CW: nsfw (minors dni), whumper pov, past noncon, promise of future noncon, pet whump, captivity, dehumanization, sexual slavery, put on display, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, multiple whumpers, cages, restraints, ring gag, forced arousal, object insertion, overstimulation, auction, noncon touching

Tonight Scarlet hosts the Lanista Society for a special dinner event. The Champion is the coveted prize, and Ivan is honored to have been the cause of it.

Champion taglist: @emmettnet , @ostensiblyfunctional

Ivan is left marveling once again at his superior's immaculate taste.

High Martinet Matar sure knew how to throw a party.

Her guests had been greeted with the finest. A banquet of gourmet Crescentine dishes and exotic delicacies. Fresh fruits and cheeses, tender meats and fish, spiced breads and decadent sweets, aged wines from the mountain vineyards. The finest money and magic could offer.

Their venue is just as grand, perhaps more so due to its creativity. A conjured demiplane Scarlet produced specially for this affair. Ivan finds it rather ingenious.

The woman was no stranger to hosting guests at her manor; he himself had been there only last week. But she limits those meetings to no more than a few people at a time. Fewer bodies are easier to keep track of. With large parties like this, comes the ever present risk of unsavory infiltrators. The Lanista Society held members with many enemies. The uninvited in disguise or potential rivals waiting for the right moment to snoop around. Larger groups made it inconvenient to keep tabs on everyone.

The demiplane removed that risk.

No need to worry about the unwanted loose in your home if you're not bringing them to your home to begin with.

And as a bonus, the spell's design was limited only by the imagination. And a wizard of Scarlet's caliber knew fine decor.

All which was fully on display for tonight's event. It was a special occasion after all.

On one end of the chamber, seated on a raised platform, was an ornate bronze cage. Round and domed at the top like one of those old-fashioned bird cages that didn't allow room for the bird to spread its wings. However this cage was far larger, for its occupant was no bird.

Scarlet found the perfect display for the Society's beloved Champion. An advantageous maneuver given he was the subject of business this evening. If Ivan had thought he looked enticing their first meeting a week ago, Scarlet had expertly ensured that the people present now would be incapable of keeping their eyes off him.

In fact, there was already a crowd forming around the cage.

Knees spread and wrists secured above him, the Champion was giving everyone a show with his trembling body. Years of fighting had toned his muscles, and the shimmering red velvet bands only accentuated them. Scarlet must have gotten the outfit custom tailored, for it turned the tiefling's form into a canvas painted with red. Velvet strips hugging his thighs and shoulders. Flowers of beaded lace climbing from hip to collar to the small of his back. Dangling garnets mimicked the appearance of dripping blood.

Absolutely exquisite.

Scarlet had elected to keep his lower region covered, draping that same black cloth around his waist that he'd worn last time. Ivan could see the sense; what was already being shown was enough of a free sample.

The guests were permitted to touch, at least to the extent they were allowed without having to pay. And the Champion’s body was a buffet getting more attention than the actual food. Fingers traced the soft velvet, then slipped in between to caress exposed skin.

“He has the best reactions if you stroke his tail,” Ivan had informed them, and they were quick to take advantage.

The touches worked well to elicit forced pleasure, though perhaps not as much as some other things.

Scarlet couldn't allow her pet to spend the whole party glaring or growling at guests, so Ivan suggested a means to keep him occupied. Just a couple simple toys, one placed inside him and the other encircling the base of his tail where he was most sensitive. Both hidden from the guests eyes with a specially crafted belt that doubled to prevent the tiefling from making a mess of himself.

From how much he was trembling, struggling to close his legs, face flushed as he moaned around the ring gag strapped around his head, the toys were doing their job. And the guests were very much appreciating the sight. Ivan could see a number of people with their hands under their pants.

He couldn't blame them. They stood before a desperate succubus, beckoning them all with pleading huffs of breath and squirming hips. Ivan himself was imagining how pretty that face would look around his cock.

He would have to wait his turn.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

The rhythmic taps of a wine glass drew the attention of the masses to the head of the table where Scarlet stands.

“Now now, everyone. I know my pet has been an exciting treat for you all, but I do hope you help yourselves to the dessert table.”

There were more than a few bouts of embarrassed laughter. Ivan included, as he too nearly forgot to go fill up his dish.

“I'm pleased to see he has garnered such interest,” she continues. “Just a quick reminder that the bidding period ends in thirty minutes. The current highest offer stands at 2,500 platinum.”

Well, not too bad a price tag for the Champion’s first official patron (Ivan's previous night with him didn't count). And if this went to a formal auction at the end of the party, if there was still an active bidding war, that amount would likely grow.

But already, he'd be returning home tomorrow with a decent payment. In a deal that spoke wonders of her generosity, Scarlet had agreed to save a percentage of the funds for him. None of this would've happened had he not raised the suggestion to her.

Lucrative business indeed. Ivan could recognize many big names at this party. Politicians, industry tycoons, nobility, all those with plentiful riches and power. He wonders if he could convince some of them to assist him in forming a similar operation in Mężnydzik. Or perhaps a connected branch.

Those were thoughts for the future. Right now, he was enjoying the view.

The first moment the cage is clear of onlookers, Ivan walks over and reaches through the bronze bars to lift up the Champion’s head to face him. With how long he'd had his mouth held open, his chin was streaked with drool, but thankfully Ivan had the foresight to wear gloves.

“Just like I said, little devil,” he purrs, gazing into eyes that struggle to focus through the mind clouding sensations. The tiefling whines in protest as Ivan lets his other hand trail up his thigh. “I knew you'd be quite popular.”

There's a moment of clarity to the Champion’s stare. A moment he's able to fight through the tears and the unwanted stimulation and-

Oh. Well isn't that a nasty look.

Reference for the outfit here.

[mattiehenderson]

Elf-Witch

Synopsis: my first Stranger Things fic, don't be hard on me please. I'm so happy to see an 80s metalhead represented in a positive light for ONCE! I couldn't help but fall in love with him just like everyone else with taste. So I prefer writing male x male romances, and can I just say we need way more bottom princess male reader and dom daddy Eddie fics. This is my attempt to try and help with that. So this story focuses on my OC, Matthew "Mattie" Henderson, he's Dustin's older brother who's a senior. Heavily bullied for being so effeminate and goth. He has always had a crush on Eddie Munson since freshman year, but unfortunately Eddie is straight...or is he?

Warnings : Sexual language and imaginations. Minors do not interact, 18+.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!OC

☆☆☆☆☆▪︎☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Look at me, please turn around and just look at me.

I stared intensely at the boy who sat in front of me in English, wavy chestnut curtains of hair poured past shoulders too broad for a normal senior, and onto my desk.

I could smell his v05 shampoo, the aloe one, and the Irish spring that almost hid his signature Marlboro and kush cologne. Slowly, quietly, I inhaled the scent that was all things Eddie Munson, the eternal prisoner of Hawkins High School.

In my marble notebook that was graffiti'd with cutouts of my favorite bands and scented stickers, I sketched an imprisoned Eddie in a medieval, hooded cloak behind bars, and coming to rescue him was a soft looking male witch. It went along with the story I was secretly writing for my own pleasure, the poor dungeon master who has been trapped in the dungeons of Hawkeye Castle for 400 years, under an evil queen's spell. Perhaps I named her Queen Cristiana of Hawkeye, after a certain stupid cheerleader that I always see hanging around a certain metal head after hours.

I don't know why I do this to myself, in what universe do I have a chance? Maybe in my own universe in my own land of make believe, but nymphs and orcs and furies also exist there so there's that.

In the real world, Chrissy Cunningham is the most beautiful girl in Hawkins, she's the head cheerleader and smells like Anais Anaïs, she has perfect hair and she's a she.

I, Mattie Henderson, am a boy. Not only am I a boy, but I'm a boy who wears more makeup than any girl in school. I wear my bleached curls too long and listen to darkwave. Eddie Munson would never!

I gently huffed before I finished sketching the scene where Matthias the Enchanter, in his red violet cloak and gossamer garments, shared a kiss with Sir Edward the Banished. 

It was hilarious really. I have known him since I was a freshman, secretly pining, and knowing we have many interests in common, especially D&D, but I've always been too shy to approach him. Too shy to approach anyone, only having one friend my whole time living in Hawkins, Robin Buckley. I'm not as good with people as my little brother, growing up in the Midwest with being what I am and how I am, I figured it's smarter to keep away. Robin always understood me, since we met in seventh grade and I moved here from Connecticut.

After everything last summer with Starcourt, and finding out about what my brother and his friends have been apart of, I shockingly acquired new friends, the very unexpected Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, and my art class acquaintances Jonathan Byers.

It's been a lot, it's been a fucking lot, and with it being my senior year the stress has been added. Mom keeps asking about my college options, telling me Indiana University has a pretty good art program. But I don't have the grades, I do enough to get by, school makes me miserable, I could care less about mundane things like classes and grades and teachers, and artificial societies. And sure I like art, but I love doing hair and makeup and nails too, something my mother definitely reaps the benefits of. And I don't exactly love Hawkins the Cursed Lands, but after everything and not sure about this place ever being safe again, I'd never leave my brother here without me. And as pathetic as it sounds, the thought of leaving the man who doesn't know I exist makes my stomach hurt.

I felt guilty for my thoughts, for my fantasies about him, for wishing the reason why I put my black velvet choker on this morning was to cover a bruise from his huge, ring wrapped fingers. Oh how I would cut off all twenty inches of my hair to just have his towering 5'11 frame over my 5'5 one, staring down into my black lined Hazel eyes, with his dark, teddy bear gaze.

The teacher must have sent paper down, because with the melodic swish of his chocolate butter ringlets, I was looking up at him and slamming my marble notebook shut faster than you can say Kissimmee. Dark, button eyes glanced at me before doing a double take. Now fixated on me feeling like a goldfish, with his plush, pillowy, bubblegum pink lips parted.

How the hell could anyone ostracize and hate such a gorgeous human being? Then the angel spoke and I felt like he was oozing the gospel.

Here we go again.

All because of one damn class I'm sitting in Johnson's English for the third fucking time.

I was the last one to plop my ass down, toward the back, the desk with the D&D scribbles and the classic "Ozzy rules" that violated government property. I got a snide remark from Johnson, and snickers and insults from Carver and his ball buddies.

This was exactly why I preferred to escape to my own world, where there are dragons and halflings, or when I close my eyes and finger my sweetheart. Just close my eyes and listen to The Number of the Beast, forgetting that reality is being the town's leper in a town where they decide Jason Carver is a good person because he knows his way around a ball.

Johnson was droning on about fucking writing prompts where he cares more about where a comma goes than if the story is good or not. 

And then, as I'm passing back the picture prompt for the first day of hell, I did a double take at a new face. A face prettier than even the likes of Chrissy Cunningham. Looking up shyly at me, drawing out a protective feeling I didn't know I possessed, are bedroom, dreamy lidded eyes painted a lavender gray,with thick broom-like sweeping lashes that flutter before bright Hazel eyes, that reminded me of summer turning into fall, green fading into browning leaves and golden maples. Kohl-rimmed, making them more pronounced and more awe-inspiring.

Her nose is cute and broad with a puggish finish that rests prettily between roundish cheeks painted a deep blush. My eyes traveled down to a pair of the ideal cock sucking lips, I'm so sorry but I don't really know what else to call them. They're so full and big, so cushiony and I'm a pretty imaginary guy, so what I'm thinking of doing to that mouth…fucking that gorgeous face, making those Hazel eyes water and her gothic makeup run down those pretty chipmunk cheeks, making a big mess of her blood red lipstick smudging it on my cock. 

I shifted in my seat feeling my dick stir, and this was not the time. Cascading around her face was voluminous white blonde curls, so wild and untamable like an elf-witch, very surreal and otherworldly and contrasts beautifully with her dark eyebrows.

And as if my she-elf couldn't have been more perfect, not only did she have herself collared by a black velvet choker, but a cut off Shout at the Devil Mötley Crüe  shirt encased her. My mouth watered and when she lifted a fishnet, arm fingerless glove adorned wrist to take the prompt from me, I inhaled the sweet smell of apricots and roses and sweet, expensive perfume. I couldn't get enough of it.

"Munson, are you drooling? Is that drool, freak?" Carver happily and loudly like a fucking foghorn called me out in front of everyone. Nothing new, usually I'm very unphased by embarrassment, I mean I'm a 20 year old senior. But, for once that jockstrap got to me, knowing this enchantress witnessed it witnessed him calling me out for something she caused. I snapped my head away fast and wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket before inspecting the porosity. Damn, I was fuckin drooling.

Saved by the Johnson, the droning authority started a roll call. Imagine my surprise when Johnson called out Matthew Henderson and it happened to be my little elf-witch…or elf-warlock should I say.

[purlturtle]

Helena G. Wells and Carmen the opera

(I might have rambled about this before...)

Can you imagine young Helena Wells (the opera premiered in England in 1878, when Helena would have been twelve) sneaking into a performance, only knowing that this was an opera that had *scandalized* half of France, so she fervently wants to see it despite not knowing what it is about, precisely?

And then she sees an opera that deliberately pictures life among working class protagonists: Don José is a low-ranked soldier, Carmen starts out as working at a cigarette factory but fails to keep her job and turns to smuggling, the major "celebrity" of the story is a bullfighter who is acclaimed in town - but beyond? we do not know!

The main character and namesake of the opera is a morally (dark!) gray character, seductive and wilful, and while she "gets her just desserts" at the end, the opera is written to make her the center characer, make the audience relate to her. She is headstrong, not beholden to high society's ideas of femininity, and uses what agency she has in life for furthering *her* wishes, not anyone else's. Certainly not the two male characters'! (who themselves are certainly not your standard operatic heroes!)

I want to imagine twelve-year-old Helena hiding in the rafters, open-mouthed, barely understanding the lyrics but *riveted* to the acting, watching Carmen weave her webs around Soldier Boy and Torero, watching her do exactly as she pleases. Let's say this is a show not in the West End of London but on the South Bank somewhere, put on by a director who leans heavily into the proletariat aspect of it, who makes this a true working class opera, where the smugglers and the tavern crowd are the audience stand-ins, not the money-bags and certainly not the soldiers/police. (Don José is on thin ice, kind of thing, and everyone applauds when Carmen manipulates the situation so that he's fired from the force.)

Can you imagine?

The first female character we see, Micaela, is your classic operatic good girl, soprano, modest dress that's travel-stained, comes to Don José with a letter from his mum. But she is nothing but a red herring! She is not who the opera is named for!

(and then a band of snotty street kids play at being soldiers, and while most productions make them shiny-eyed and the soldiers they're incorporating their heroes, why not have this director turn it around and make them mock the marching, the parading, the obeisance?)

And oh, when Carmen takes the stage! Her first entrance is preceded by one of the most beautiful ensemble songs of the opera (IMO), in which the factory girls come on break and sing while the soldiers are all love-stricken (or lusting) in the background. And Carmen is not one of those girls singing so beautifully, no - and the soldiers know it too! They ask after her, thirst for her, and when she finally makes her entrance, she takes their accolades as utterly deserved and appropriate: of *course* the soldiers ask for her specifically, of *course* half of them are in love with her.

And she flirts by *warning* them. "Love is a fickle thing," she sings. and, "If you love me, watch out," she sings, and maybe Helena doesn't have enough French to understand that, or maybe she grabbed a program somewhere that translates all the important songs, or maybe she understands the singer's body language: this woman is a tigress, knows she's a tigress, and she's absolutely fine with being a tigress, and so are the men who are in her thrall.

In any other story, this woman would be a cautionary tale. In any other story, she might get this one moment to shine, and then will be killed off to "reward her depravity". At best she will get another, much briefer moment to regret her life choices and pray to the good God to forgive her for her sins.

In "Carmen", she is the main character.

Can you imagine young Helena?

Can you imagine her watch this character strut the stage, manipulate every man that has the slightest chink in his armor for her, get *exactly* what she wants out of life? And what she wants isn't to marry well, or raise a family, or Be Good - no, Carmen wants to live life to the fullest, wants to be free, wants to get what's hers and not be beholden to anyone. The audacity of that bitch!

I cannot conceive of Helena not latching on to Carmen over the course of the evening, and latching on HARD. Carmen gets out of jail through her wiles, gets to have the guys she wants, and even when the tarot cards speak of danger, Carmen Does Not Give A Fuck. She flies, she burns so brightly, and she's not gonna let anyone put her fire in a cage. So what if it ends in death! At least she got to make her own choices!

Can you imagine young Helena?

I can.

And I don't think that the fact that Carmen dies in the end is any deterrent, any "moral warning", any "if you follow this path, young girl, *this* is where it will lead" to her. She's twelve! She will just make better choices, not be quite so stupid at the end, and she will have it all: making her own choices, and living happily ever after. She will! She has just seen what not to do; she can avoid that! What, like it's hard?

Anyway, seeing Carmen being a formative experience for Helena Wells is a firm, firm headcanon of mine. Let me know what you think! (and if you have never seen Carmen, find it on Youtube - there are TONS of recordings, a lot of them with subtitles! Just make sure to watch a theatrical version, ie with actual acting, not an orchestra with singers standing still and just singing!)

[cielpansyhive]

Cielpansyhive multichapter WIP list!

All of these are in various stages. Some fics are completely plotted, hence the chapter count, some chapters are to be decided still. Others are mostly figured out, a few are vague ideas. A handful of them already have a chapter mostly written that just hasn't been posted yet. I'm including works I have posted on AO3 but haven't finished in this list. I've been busy the past few years, I just haven't been posting or talking about my works. I'd love to answer questions about any of these, without spoiling anything of course.

Kuroshitsuji:

Revamp – Heavy LGBTQ+ characters and themes, modern setting. Sebastian rents out a room in Ciel’s house. After much flirting and interests are made aware, Ciel will have to admit to Sebastian he’s a trans man that has been living in stealth. Sebastian was never able to explore his identity freely. Both have old trauma they must navigate as well as society and family’s expectations. Friends to lovers sebaciel. Found family and discovery of identity. Drag queens galore! Background Alois/Lizzie, Grell/Madam Red, Agni/Soma. Slice of life, smut, sex positivity, mental health, trauma, angst with happy ending. (20 chapters) Currently under revision as this was my first fic!

Skilamalink – Crimson Peak AU, early 1900’s. Two brothers and their mysterious butler must find a way to get their hands on a small fortune. Their inheritance is sinking into the red clay. Ciel Phantomhive searches for a new bride in hopes of marrying into wealth. Tragedy follows the Phantomhives like a dark shadow. Astre Phantomhive is deathly ill and in need of treatment. While he knows there are sinister things that go on behind the scenes, in his wildest dreams he could never imagine what is being kept from him. When Elizabeth Midford comes into the picture secrets begin to unfold. Horror, whump, mystery, murder, ghosts, dark fic, smut, romance, multiple ships, implied incest, satisfying ending. (6 chapters)

Freakshow – 1930’s circus AU, The Great Depression era, prohibition. Sebastian has searched the city only to have every door slammed in his face. Reluctantly he turns to the only place he hasn't tried, the circus. The last thing he wants to be viewed as is a freak, but he doesn't blend in society very well with Marfan syndrome. Circus owner William T. Spears is falling apart at the seams. His circus is failing, though he'd never admit it to anyone. Too many people depend on him, namely his twin sons, Ciel and Astre. Ciel is the star of the show, the biggest and brightest. His acts include knife throwing, magic, and good old fashion card tricks, made even more impressive by his blindness. Even with the crowds dwindling, he's not ready to move out from center stage. Especially not for the rookie new act. Astre is bored to death. The circus has been the same for years. Same people, same acts, same crippling anxiety that keeps him from performing. People try to make the circus seem spectacular, but to Astre it's just dull, everyday life. Astre has a difficult time making friends due to his inability to speak. Heavy angst, some dark themes, slow burn, past Snake/Astre. (Chapters TBD)

Rumors – Famous AU. Modern setting. A model and a rockstar couple, how original. Sebastian and his band are at the top of their game. Everyone wants to interview them, the paparazzi won’t leave them alone, and rumors fly in an instant. Ciel’s a well-known heir and model, finally making his first semi-public appearance since he was held for ransom. People want his story, at least what they can’t already see. Ciel is never without his eyepatch and gloves, he refuses to talk about that day. He attempts to move forward with his modeling career. Ciel hasn’t been laid in years, of course he won’t turn down the handsome rock star that approaches him at a party. For Sebastian it’s been…a few days. Sebastian has never had a serious relationship, but Ciel interests him. Sebastian invites Ciel to join them on their mini tour. Ciel would have to leave behind the security of his home and his own personal bodyguard for the first time in years. It’s all sex (a lot of sex), drugs, and rock n roll. Sebastian and Ciel try to navigate a relationship they must hide. Both are on the edge of self-destruction. Angst, intense themes, trauma, drug use, self-harm, eating disorders, mostly hurt/barely comfort, betrayal, lots of smut, hopeful ending. (9 chapters)

Bloody Bastian – American Mary AU. Modern setting. Sebastian is a surgical student getting ready to start his residency. Med school isn’t cheap, financial aid didn’t even cover books and materials and his bills were piling up. It was difficult to locate a job that would work with his schedule. He finds an ad that a local strip club has posted. They state women or men can apply, it’s worth a shot. Sebastian enters the club. It looks clean enough, not just a hole in the wall that won’t pay minimum wage. The owner, Bard, takes an interest in Sebastian even though he seems overly qualified. Sebastian’s schooling comes in handy as he becomes involved with illegal surgeries that pay fast cash. He remembers his vow to, “do no harm,” but when do the lines blur? His world becomes tangled in revenge and body modifications. Bard pines over Sebastian and will do whatever it takes to make him happy. Detective Ciel Phantomhive is investigating the disappearance of Sebastian’s previous professor. How long before the pressure causes Sebastian to crack? Dark fic, graphic content, angst, murder, non-con, trauma, slight Sebard and Sebaciel. Vague/open ending. (7 chapters)

Razor’s Edge – Black Swan AU. Modern setting. Ciel has finally landed the role as the Swan Queen. Sebastian, an award-winning dancer from England is to be Prince Siegfried. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing bonds two people in a blooming romance like covering up a murder. Stress is high on the duo as it is. A shadow from the past seems to follow Ciel. Sebastian may have signed himself up to be Ciel’s unofficial bodyguard as threats rise. Dark fic, open ended ending. (7 chapters)

In the Woods Somewhere – College AU with Bird!Bastian. Modern setting. Ciel Phantomhive has been murdered…or at least he would have been if he didn’t make a deal with a strange man from the forest. The man who becomes known as Sebastian finds himself trapped on the surface level. The fine print of Ciel’s contract has bound him for the entire ten years. Ciel is a sickly human that could benefit from someone like Sebastian, if he’s willing to be his student. Ciel is missing half a year’s worth of his memory and can’t recall who tried to murder him or why. Sebastian follows Ciel around campus and attempts to help solve his murder. Between classes Sebastian teaches Ciel a little magic. They visit the woods often for Sebastian to stretch his wings and Ciel to take nature photos. Ciel would have never guessed he’d fall for this strange, bird demon or that it would be reciprocated. Mystery, humor, magic, hurt/comfort, whump (Chapters TBD)

Break Your Halo – Angel/demon AU. Modern setting. After a church collapses three survivors are sent to the hospital. Two civilians are unconscious and in critical condition while the priest is awake. He demands to know if the basement is still intact because “it” must not be let out. Both civilians begin to heal impossibly fast and without their memory. They go by Ciel and Sebastian. They are put in a semi-private room and become friends. They start noticing some odd things and confide in one another. The doctors would think they’re crazy, they already think there’s something wrong with them. They were both at death’s door and overnight they’ve healed as if they’ve been there for months. Maybe they aren’t human, they need answers. Whump, smut (5 chapters)

Nymph – Canon divergent AU.Ciel sleeps with everyone except Sebastian and Sebastian is not having it, that’s it, that’s the fic. Adult Ciel being hit with all the urges he missed in his teens. Every chapter starts out with a frustrated Sebastian complaining in his journal. Yes, a demon keeping a journal is cracky. Some humor, but mostly smut. Ciel/Finny, Ciel/Bard, Ciel/Mey-Rin, Ciel/Soma/Agni, Ciel/Snake, Ciel/Undertaker, Ciel/Charles Grey, Ciel/Nina (8 chapters)

Phantom – Phantom of the Opera AU. Set in 1880s France. Sebastian finally debuts as the star the “angel” trained him to be. He has devoted his life to music and the voice he’d talk to in the dead of night. Sebastian is pleasantly surprised to find out his childhood love, Bard, is one of the opera house’s biggest patrons. Their reunion doesn’t go unnoticed. Sebastian is visited by his angel of music, and he is much more flesh and blood and possessive than Sebastian imagined. Soma is not taking being knocked down a peg well. The audience comes to see him and his darling Agni, not Sebastian. Soma won’t play nice, but what does he do when he’s faced with the man behind the mirror? This opera ghost won’t go without a fight. Bard desperately wants to free Sebastian, yet Sebastian doesn’t want to be freed. Angst, smut, dark elements. Sebaciel and Sebard. Background Soma/Agni. (Chapters TBD)

Slice of the Scalpel – Nip/tuck AU. Modern setting. Brothers Sebastian and Claude run a plastic surgery practice. They have very different ideas of beauty, which helps build their clientele. Sebastian prefers to enhance natural beauty and balance what is already there. Claude prefers to alter and exaggerate things beyond clients’ wildest dreams. Receptionist and Sebastian’s boyfriend, Ciel, is eager to start his schooling to be an anesthetist. Angst, drama, smut, humor. (Chapters TBD)

I Like U for Your Brainz – izombie AU. Modern setting. A newly turned zombie, Sebastian, is a medical examiner working under Ciel’s leadership. Together they try to find a cure for zombies as well as solve murder cases with detective William T. Spears. Sebastian had to leave his old life behind him, give up his dream of being a surgeon, his fiancé Bard, even his sister he keeps at a distance. His extremely extroverted roommate, Soma, must work even harder to cheer him up. Sebastian would give anything to be human again or at least to have someone besides his boss to talk to about being a zombie. He couldn’t be the only one out there, right? Turns out there’s someone that’s making more zombies in the hopes of getting rich and another that is plain ignorant to the problem. Angst, humor, smut, gore, happy ending. Past Seb/Bard, Seb/Agni, Ciel/Soma, Seb/Ciel, Seb/Violet, Ciel/Violet, Agni/Soma, Bard/R!Ciel, Bard/Finny (Chapters TBD)

Star Boy – Actor AU. Modern setting. Actors Ciel and Sebastian are the celebrity couple everyone’s talking about. They are known for co-staring in action movies, their chemistry was unmatched even before they started dating. Their latest film calls for more stunts, more explosions and effects, it’s over the top. Like many actors, Ciel has a stunt double, Alois. Sebastian does as well, Claude. Alois loves performing stunts and he gets along well with Ciel. He gets his own limelight doing extreme sports off set. Claude isn’t as happy with the arrangement. Sebastian gets all the fans and praise, yet Claude is the one doing the hard work. Worst of all, Sebastian gets Ciel. Sebastian doesn’t deserve the life he has, Claude is sure of that. Angst, whump, crime, dark fic. (Chapters TBD)

Another Life – Modern setting reincarnation AU. Sebastian works at an antique shop, one day Ciel comes in to shop around, looking for something “old” to gift his cousin for her wedding day. Sebastian knows he’s never seen him in the shop before, yet he seems so familiar. Oddly enough Ciel is drawn back to visit Sebastian week after week, he is compelled to. There’s a tug on the red string of fate and neither can ignore it. (Chapters TBD)

A New Heart for Christmas – Modern setting. Ciel needs a heart transplant. It’s been years and he’s finally next on the list. He’s tired of keeping batteries charged for his artificial heart and worrying about people thinking he’s dead if he passes out and doesn’t have a pulse. The twins decide to do their annual birthday outing early this year, seeing as Ciel might be recovering still on their actual birthday. His new heart comes much sooner than he anticipated and with challenges he never imagined. Whump, sad, somewhat body horror?, angst. (3 chapters)

Nightshift – Modern setting. Five Nights at Freddy’s AU. Sebastian and Ciel have been hired as night security guards to a “new” pizza joint. Sebastian only moved to the town for college, but Ciel had lived there his whole life. He knew the establishment well. How dare they reopen after what they did to him and his family. Ciel searches for answers to what happened. He knows his brother had to be murdered, he wasn’t just abducted. Sebastian helps him investigate as the restaurant comes to life. With so much dark history it’s no wonder something lingers in the background. Time is running out as opening day nears. Horror, no smut, dark themes, happy ending. (6 chapters)

Free Love – Raver AU. Modern setting. Just a big party, not a lot of plot. A bunch of smut and ships. If house music was a fanfic, this is what you’d get. Seb/Ciel(/Bard), Ciel/Alois, Ciel/Soma, Ciel/Finny, Ciel/Violet, Ciel/Snake, Ciel/Sieglinde, Ciel/Agni, Seb/Agni, Seb/Violet, Violet/Alois, Finny/Snake, Lizzie/Sieglinde, Agni/Soma(/Snake), Violet/Snake/Sieglinde (Chapters TBD)

Phantom Occult – Supernatural AU/paranormal investigators, modern setting, on indefinite hiatus. The Phantomhives have been on the road most of their lives, taking out all the nasties that go bump in the night. Vincent and his twin sons have teamed up with a half demon named Sebastian and a witch, Sieglinde. Sebastian has very little memory of his past. He was found by Vincent and Cedric (Undertaker) on one of their hunts. In search of answers, Sebastian is trying to track down his demonic father. Sebastian has proven his loyalty to the Phantomhives time and time again. He will, as Vincent’s last request, ‘look after his boys.’ Following in their father and grandfather’s footsteps the twins take on cases involving the supernatural. Vincent Jr. has his work cut out for him with Ciel’s fragile health and Sebastian’s ever changing and out of control abilities. They may need to seek out a higher being to help them and save the world from damnation. (Chapters TBD)

Phoenix – A/b/o dynamics, FBI agent AU. Modern setting. Partners Ciel and Sebastian are given a case that has similarities to Ciel’s own capture from his childhood. It puts Ciel on edge, but he’s determined to solve it. Sebastian is not the playboy alpha everyone assumes he is, he’s in fact an omega. He’s been having horrible side effects from being on suppressants since his teens. He’s never even had a heat. For his own safety his doctor forces him off suppressants for at least a year. Ciel is hurt and confused to find out his partner for the last ten years lied to him about his dynamic. It’s not long before Sebastian is hit with his first heat. What is Ciel to do? Angst, smut (5 chapters)

Thought Contagion – Cyborg sci-fi AU. Future setting. Sebastian wakes up in the storage section of a lab. Half of his body has been transformed, he’s now a cyborg. He breaks through the facility and finds Ciel in the process of his brain being programed. Sebastian rescues him and they flee the factory. On the outside they discover the horrors of their government and what is being done to the citizens. They befriend rebels and try to take back control. (Chapters TBD)

T’hy’la – Star Trek AU. Future setting. Sci-fi. Captain Ciel Phantomhive and his half Vulcan second-in-command, Sebastian, explore space with their small crew. Slow burn sebaciel. (Chapters TBD)

Aquamarine – Merman Ciel AU. Modern setting. Sebastian whump, Ciel takes care of him. Crime, magic, and smut. (4 chapters)

Voltron:

Atlas Ocean Rescue – Merman Shiro AU. Modern setting. Keith works as a marine life vet at a rehabilitation clinic. He saves merman Shiro and develops a crush on him. Cute friendships, humor, healing, growth, a dash of smut and gore/whump. Slight angst with happy ending. (9 chapters)

Empire – Royalty AU. Set on Altea, not Earth. Shklance with trans Lance and cis Keith. Love triangles, magic, betrayals, war, planets coming together, and a healthy dose of smut. Ends with a wedding. (8 chapters)

Affinity – Modern setting. Shiro hasn’t adjusted well since his new diagnosis, so he joins a support group recommended by his doctor. Keith has been going to group reluctantly for years. His seizures are somewhat under control. He has the company of his service dog, Kosmo, but he’s otherwise alone. Both of their lives are turning out far different than they ever envisioned. Will they give love a chance? Slow burn. Cis Keith. (9 chapters)

The Eighth House – Modern setting. Werewolf Shiro and vampire Keith AU. Shiro is a newly turned werewolf and Keith volunteers to help him. Keith was turned into a vampire in the 80’s. Keith’s best friend, Lance, is also a vampire. They hang out at a supernatural bar that’s run by ex-hunters. Lots of blood and some smut. (8 chapters)

Zombie – Zombie apocalypse AU. Modern setting. After Shiro is labeled as a burden, him and Keith are kicked out from their community. Keith must take care of Shiro and find a new shelter or community for them to join. They find one run by a sadistic creep that was a cult leader pre-apocalypse. It’s not ideal, but where else can they turn? Keith plots to overthrow the tyrant as soon as he can, for everyone’s sake. Angst, whump, gore, smut, dark elements, happy ending. (5 chapters)

As Many Times as It Takes – Canon divergent AU. Keith goes feral and must be confined for everyone’s safety. The team works to find an antidote for Keith. Shiro tries to get his husband to remember their life together as well as remind him how to be human. Hurt/comfort. (3 chapters.)

Euphoria – A/b/o AU. Modern setting. Keith Is a hopeless afab alpha that seems to want the impossible. He’s not attracted to the stereotypical omega and his last relationship with another alpha left him with literal scars. He decides to try out a match service that’s prided itself on hard to match cases. Shiro is tired of being rejected and his body is telling him he desperately needs a mate. It doesn’t matter that he is no longer fertile, his omega body didn’t get the memo. With irregular and intense heats, infertility, being a large omega, and a list of ‘flaws’ a mile long Shiro has been the one unmatched client the service can’t seem to help. Owners Allura and Lance have become family to him and are personally invested in finding a mate for him. Keith and Shiro could be perfect for each other if only they allow themselves to be happy. (6 chapters.)

Club Atlas – Scent club a/b/o AU. Modern setting. A new alpha, Shiro, arrives at a scent club under recommendation by his therapist. Following a serious accident Shiro lost his sense of smell. When it eventually came back everything was overwhelming. He could barely handle his own scent and couldn’t leave his house. His anxiety and trauma have caused his life to spiral out of his control. A scent club is the perfect place to go to for exposure therapy. Omega scents are naturally calming to an alpha, booths are well sealed and private, and clubs take care to thoroughly remove scents of previous clients between rounds. Shiro meets Lance and Keith, two of the omegas that work at the club. They interview him and add him to their client list. Lance is always enthusiastic about his job, he loves it. Keith on the other hand isn’t too fond of the job or being an omega. But there’s something about this client that he likes. Maybe he can make a real difference in someone’s life. Angst, a lot of smut, brief klance. (5 chapters.)

Compliance – Kidnapped AU. Modern setting. Shiro is held captive by his long-lost twin brother Ryou. After going into the adoption system as infants, they were split up. Shiro wasn’t aware he had a twin until he was staring him in the face. Apparently, Ryou had been keeping tabs on him from afar for over a year. He happened to access Shiro’s patient file and felt he could do a better job taking care of Shiro than his current doctors were. Ryou only wants the best for his brother and that means he can’t leave his sight. Still, he does have to work, and being confined he knows Shiro is bound to get lonely. Ryou decides he should get a boyfriend for Shiro, and he found the perfect one. Keith has been recently released from the psych ward. He had no family or friends. He was fired from his job and probably couldn’t even pay for his hospital bill or antidepressants he clearly needed. They could keep each other company. Their living quarters would be cozy, the basement wasn’t tiny by any means…but two people trapped on the same floor, they’d have to share. Ryou wasn’t a monster, the basement was nicer than any apartment that either could afford. The chains were temporary, an exercise of trust if you will. They’ve had yet to earn his. Dark fic OBVIOUSLY (Chapters TBD)

Strength in Gentleness – Shiatsu massage therapist & Reiki master Shiro/autistic Keith. Modern setting. Keith often hangs out at his mom’s work. Recently her and Kolivan’s business has moved location and joined with Allura’s salon. They also hired a new bodyworker that Keith develops a crush on. Fluffy, slice of life, hurt/comfort, humor. Music heavy, I kid you not, every chapter will have a playlist. Lots of cute Krolia and Keith moments. Giving all “The Blades” a happy lifetime. Probably the fluffiest thing I’ll ever write. It won’t be 100% free of trauma, but Shiro has healed and Keith and Krolia have processed their grief. Anxiety and meltdowns can get a bit intense. (Chapters TBD)

The Ring – Boxer Shiro/body worker-therapist Keith. Modern setting. Cute and smutty. Slight whump cause boxing injuries. (Chapters TBD)

Galaxy University – College AU, teacher Shiro/student Keith. Modern setting. Angst. (Chapters TBD)

Vanitas no carte:

I Trust you to Kill Me – Canon divergent AU. Vanitas turns into a vampire. All he knows is his craving for blood has taken over his life. He’s not a curse bearer but he fears he might as well be. Worse yet, he can no longer assist Jeanne, he tries to obtain a solution that works for them both. Noé confesses his feelings and tries to keep Vanitas alive. Angst, whump, smut, romance. Vanoe, possible vanijeanne (Chapters TBD)

[lathalea]

For the Sweet Bingo, hopefully no one else has thought to ask for kissing on a ferris wheel and Thorin. I think it could be interesting if Yrsa somehow made an appearance. I do love her! Ultimately, it is your playground. Hopefully the muses are kind. Happy writing!

Hello hello @sweetestgbye! Guess what, it's finally happened, here is your request for the Sweet and Spicy Bingo by @fellowshipofthefics-- sorry it took so long and enjoy! :)

Relationships: Thorin x Yrsa (from Blame it on Cider)

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Author's notes: A modern take on Thorin and Yrsa's relationship. Since @sweetestgbye gave me a free hand with picking a Sweet and Spicy Bingo prompt, I chose "soulmates".

✨Soulmates✨

“Are you crazy, Thorin? I’m not getting up there!” Yrsa huffed and stomped her foot. And stomping her feet while wearing those new ruby-red high heels was a very difficult thing to do. But she was on a date with the hottest guy at the uni, a.k.a. Thorin Thrainsson, a.k.a. her boyfriend, and she just had to look her best. Especially since today he wore his hair (his amazing hair!) loose and he smiled at her with that soft little smile of his that softened his features, and looked at her with his dreamy blue eyes… making her knees unusually weak. But she was sure the cider they had just been drinking was at least partially to blame. She took another sip and stole a glance at the huge Ferris wheel, the newest–and biggest–attraction of the local amusement park. No, she was most certainly not getting up into that monstrosity, even though everyone in her home town kept on talking about how great it was. For a whole week Yrsa tried to ignore all the Instagram pictures or TikToks everyone kept on posting: “Look, this is me on the Ferris wheel!” “This is me and my bae kissing on the Ferris wheel!” “My doggo takes a ride with me on the Ferris wheel!” “Cute baby’s first time on the Ferris wheel!” “Mikey gets sick again on the Ferris wheel!”

Somehow, Yrsa did not think it was great at all.

“I got us tickets for the midnight ride, see?” Thorin took out four green tokens from the pocket of his leather jacket and purred seductively. “We’ll have the whole pod only for us. It's a full moon tonight, just think how romantic it will be: you, me, the moonlight in your fiery hair…”

“Thorin Thrainsson, I know exactly what you’re doing and sweet-talking me won’t work!” Yrsa poked her finger into his chest (very hard chest, she might add, and a very enjoyable one too, especially when not covered with that black rock band t-shirt he was currently wearing. She was referring, of course, to how well-defined his muscles were. She needed to see his bare chest often. For science. She needed to pass her anatomy exams somehow, right?), “I refuse to become one of the slaves of the consumerist society and go on this ride to hell! Besides, we can do so many other things, like go for a walk in the park…”

“At midnight? I thought you didn’t like that cemetery nearby,” Thorin furrowed his brow.

“Well… true, but still… We have options! Lots and lots of them! And all of them are on the ground!”

“Yrsa,” Thorin murmured, his half-lidded eyes cast a smouldering glance at her. “I know you’re not a fan of heights, but I’ll be with you all the time, holding your hand, just like I do now. You will be fine. I promise.”

Yrsa looked at their joined hands and then back at Thorin’s face. Very handsome face. And that wavy hair of his, dark as the night around them. And the way his lips moved… and she knew what these lips were capable of doing when they were alone. And they would be very much alone during the ride on the Ferris wheel. She swallowed.

No, Yrsa had to stand her ground.

“I won’t be fine! Can you imagine me hanging in the air, 300 feet above ground? It’s not natural!” She waved her hand emphatically, her ruby-red nail polish sparkling in the lamplight.

“I thought that this could be something special,” his rumbly voice reached her ears despite the hustle and bustle of the amusement park around them. “It’s our first anniversary, after all…”

“Oh. Is it? Yes, you’re right! How could I forget? it’s August, and our first kiss was at that wedding… You were so unbelievably grumpy, remember?” She chuckled.

“Only because you kept on brushing me off all day long!” Thorin grunted.

“I was just after a messy breakup,” Yrsa sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m still ashamed of how much I’ve drunk that night. But I’m glad you hadn’t given up on me then.”

“It’s not often I wake up next to a gorgeous woman who insists I’m her soulmate and then falls back to sleep, drooling on my chest…” “Hey!” Yrsa protested.

“... in a very cute and feminine way, of course,” Thorin grinned.

“Nice save!”

“Thank you,” Thorin made a mock bow, making Yrsa giggled and took another sip of cider from her paper cup.

“One year already, huh?” She hummed. “Our anniversary. I’m sorry, I feel so stupid, I should have remembered…”

“You remember all the Latin names of the bones in the human body and I remember the important dates and appointments. That’s how we roll, right?” Thorin pulled her close so that she was facing him now.

“Right,” she pecked him on his bearded cheek. It smelled like cider, strawberry ice-cream, and that sandalwood fragrance she had given him for Christmas. “Has anyone told you you’re the sexiest mechanical engineering student I’ve ever met?”

“Not often enough,” he rumbled, his lips drifting towards hers, but Yrsa tilted her head back.

“Am I not getting my one year anniversary kiss?” Thorin frowned.

“It depends,” Yrsa wrinkled her nose. 

“On?”

“On whether we are going on that contraption from hell,” she pointed at the said contraption moving in a steady, circular, and slightly sickening motion above them.

“Yes, we are,” Thorin said with conviction.

“No, we aren’t,” Yrsa said with conviction.

“So… are you withholding kisses from me? It’s blackmail!”

“It’s called a self-preservation instinct!”

“Yrsa. The Ferris wheel is safe. I swear. It’s brand new, it passed all the tests—I was helping with the fatigue tests, remember? You will be alright!” Thorin squeezed her hand. 

“I won’t!” Yrsa shook her head. 

“Look at that kid, he just got off the Ferris wheel and he’s beaming!” “It’s Mikey Dorisson, he’s going to puke.”

“No, he’s not, he’s… oh. Well.”

“I told you.”

“But his sister looks happy!”

“Because she’s just uploaded another TikTok vid of him puking,” Yrsa scowled.

“Well, you won’t puke!”

“Because I’m not going!” “Even if I ask you to close your eyes so that I can give you one kiss for every minute we’re up there?” Thorin purred, pecking the tip of her nose. “Hmmm… how about one kiss every ten seconds?” Yrsa batted her eyelashes innocently. “That can be…” Thorin started.

“What’s up, bro? Hiya, Yrsa!” A dark-haired teenager in a worn, navy blue baseball cap waved at them.

“Frerin! What are you doing here?” Thorin growled.

“I came to see how you were doing! Yrsa, have you said ‘yes’?” Frerin gesticulated excitedly.

“He meant the Ferris wheel,” Thorin interjected, but Yrsa clearly saw the deadly stare he directed at his younger brother.

“I don’t— Ouch!” Frerin made a jump. “Ah, yeah. Right. Sure. I meant the Ferris wheel. So, are you going?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t prepared my last will yet,” Yrsa whispered conspiratorially, making him laugh.

“I wouldn’t go if I were you,” Frerin replied with a glint in his eye. “Can you imagine spending so much time alone with my big bro? He’ll probably start telling you everything about the centrifugal force and all that other boring stuff! And what if you catch a cold? It’s very windy up there, you know. Oh, and…”

“Shut up, Frerin,” Thorin groaned, clenching his fists.

“Actually, Thorin was about to bribe me with some cotton candy…” Yrsa stated.

“Were I now?” Thorin’s eyebrow travelled up his forehead. Slowly.

“Yes, you were, “ Yrsa exclaimed enthusiastically. “Cotton candy and that big white teddy bear from the Mirkwood Shooting Gallery.”

“You know how I hate that stuck-up guy who runs the place,” Thorin sighed with a frown.

“But the teddy bear is sooo cute!” She batted her eyelashes again. It always worked. “Please?”

“Well…” Thorin hummed, but Yrsa knew him well enough to know she had already won. 

“And you better keep on hugging me all the time we’re up there,” she wrapped her arms around his upper arm and pecked his cheek. “Deal?”

“Deal!” Thorin pulled her into his arms and kissed her right on her lips, most probably ruining her ruby-red lipstick, but at that very moment she did not really care. She could never say no to his kisses. So she reciprocated.

“Guys! You’re disgusting!” Frerin groaned theatrically. “I’m going to get some ice-cream. Who wants some?”

Sadly, no one replied to him. Thorin and Yrsa were too busy.

***

“I’m going to name him ‘Beorn’.” Yrsa hugged her giant teddy bear as she settled herself in her Ferris wheel seat.

“Like that guy who rented us his vacation cabin?” Thorin wondered. 

“Yeah!”

“I don’t see the resemblance.” “Well, Beorn here is… fluffy.  Just like that guy. He reminded me of a big teddy bear.” She chuckled and sat the bear on the seat opposite her.

“Beorn? A big teddy bear? Didn’t you mean a big, rabid bear?” Thorin put his arm around her shoulder.

“No, that’s you,” Yrsa grinned, but then the Ferris wheel started moving, making her pale. “I’m going to need that hug and kiss now.”

Thorin, of course, complied.

 “Yrsa…” Thorin whispered as their lips parted. “You can open your eyes now. We are on top now and the view is…”

“No.”

“Not even a tiny bit?” He murmured into her ear and moved away before she could protest.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, her eyes still closed.

“Not even if I tell you that I have a little something for you? For our anniversary?” Yrsa decided that Thorin using his deep, purring voice had to be classified as a crime. She couldn’t say no, could she? She opened one eye. Just a little bit. Just to see why Thorin had stopped embracing her.

What she saw made Yrsa open her other eye and gasp. Thorin was kneeling on one knee in front of her and held something in his hands.

“Yrsa… I have to tell you something. You knew it from the moment we first met, but it took me a whole six months to realize that you were my… soulmate.”

“T-Thorin?” Her voice trembled. Somehow, Yrsa forgot that she was sitting in a small pod 300 feet above ground in darkness, sailing through the air with the moon hanging above them. “What are you saying?”

“I’m trying to say that you are the one I want to spend my whole life with.” Thorin opened the little box he held in his hand. Against the bottle green velvet, something glittered like the stars above them. “Will you marry me, Yrsa?”

Before she drowned in the low, velvety rumble of his voice, in the deep blue sea of his gaze, Yrsa managed to whisper, “Yes.”

At that very moment, she was not afraid of heights at all.

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @jotink78 @rachel1959 @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry  @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512  @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff  @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad @saltwater-in-the-afternoon

If you'd like to be tagged in my fics (or removed from the list), please let me know!

[pyropsychiccollector]

Founders: Profile Data

(๑╹ω╹๑ ) Time to try something a wee bit different... I've done bios on characters, of course. This information is purely for sport and fun. And all of the measurement info is canonical, so I will receive no backlash from this. *stares at certain people* (๑╹ω╹๑ )(๑╹ω╹๑ )(๑╹ω╹๑ ) The rest, of course, I left to imagination~ \(๑╹ω╹๑ )/

And because this is a test to see how it's received... I'll do the data on my "Founders", the girls I most strongly ship with Makoto. They started Danganronpa ships for me... And in Maiko's case, she earned her way up there. (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Chisa did as well, but... She has seniority on Maiko-chan. (๑╹ω╹๑ )

#6: Maiko Kagura, Ultimate Dancer

Height: 160 cm (5'2")

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 75 cm (30")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: November 29

Likes: Big ramen servings (canon), Pop music, Danceable music, Comfy clothes, Her foster "family" in the red light district, Positive Attitudes, Good deals on home appliances and utilities, Kindhearted senpai that take the time to hang out and listen to her

Dislikes: Natto (canon), Abandonment, Scammers, Perverts, Bullies

#5: Chisa Yukizome, Ultimate Housekeeper

Height: 161 cm

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 89 cm

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: May 3

Likes: Cleaning, Laundry, Cooking (canon), Ultimate Students (eventually all students), Passion and Confidence, Time with loved ones, Frilly aprons and dresses, Sweetheart students that help keep everyone in line and get flustered when one-on-one

Dislikes: Cockroaches (canon), Sleaziness, Laziness, Lack of motivation/drive, Corruption, Bullies, Dirt and grime

#4: Junko Enoshima, Ultimate Fashionista

Height: 169 cm (5'7")

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 90 cm

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: December 24

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Trendy Clothes, Malleable people, Being on top, Her sisters, Opulence, Compassionate lucky boys that never gave up on her despite how bad off she was originally

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Old-fashioned clothes and stuff not trending, Smartasses, Rivals that get in her way, The slums, Plans going awry, Reminders of her past

#3: Mukuro Ikusaba, Ultimate Soldier

Height: 169 cm (5'7")

Weight: 44 kg (97 lbs)

Chest: 80 cm (31")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: December 24

Likes: Her sisters, Army knives (canon), Straightforward procedures and rules, Quiet, Night racing (motorcycles), Training, Reconnaissance (keeping tabs on loved ones), Compassionate and tender lucky civilian boys that wasn't put off by her talent and continued trying to be her friend...who also gets along with her sisters

Dislikes: Makeup (canon), Shallow and aggravating people, Threats to her sisters, Threats to Naegi-kun, People that look down on soldiers (namely their ability to return to society), Flashy clothes/items, Unnecessary procedures and rules that make things harder rather than actually make a difference

#2: Celestia Ludenberg, Ultimate Gambler

Height: 164 cm (5'5")

Weight: 46 kg (101 lbs)

Chest: 80 cm (31")

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: November 23

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Marie Antoinette, Gothic lolita fashion, Gothic architecture, Extravagance and opulence, Winning, People that do as she says, European castles, Tenderhearted lucky boys that try and see the real her beyond all the lies and backstories...who don't mock her dreams, but urge her to become a better person

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Loud and annoying things and people, Smartass peasants, People that waste her time, Losing, Certain ruffians BORN into money and opulence that know nothing of winning your way there personally...ESPECIALLY the duplicitous "nice princess" stereotypes

#1: Sayaka Maizono, Ultimate Idol

Height: 165 cm (5'5")

Weight: 49 kg (108 lbs)

Chest: 83 cm (33")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: July 7

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Pop music, Her band, Her fans, Singing and Dancing, Genuineness, Compassion and Kindness, Friends that see past her public image, The idea of teaching music and dancing to future students, Comfy and Cozy families (blood doesn't matter; just the idea people are there for each other...), One-of-a-kind selfless lucky boys that help others without asking anything in return...who she's wanted to know for a few years now, finally got the chance to, and easily fell in love with him without regrets

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Threats to her friends' livelihoods, Managers with unrealistic expectations, Duplicity and backstabbing, People who are just FAKE and inflict harm and enjoy it, Loneliness, Despair, Bullies, People imbued with "talent" and coast by without effort or purpose

(๑╹ω╹๑ ) *sips tea* I regret nothing~

[obxthornton]

Chapter 2

WC: 2423

People used to tell me my mom reminded them of Kat Stratford in high school. She was outspoken, loud, and always voiced her opinions. She loved rock music and got me into rock music myself. The guitar I played was hers when she was in a band of her own in high school. I wish I remembered her.

Now my mom might have been Kat, but my dad was no Patrick Verona. The only thing they had in common was being Australian. I don't know how my mom and him fell in love seeing as he was the soul thing my mom stood against. He was a businessman who was never home, alwasy working for hours on end. Never wanted to venture out of our town or go on vacation. Didn't care about the environment or the problems in our society. He cared about money. Something that differed Mom and him in two different directions.

My dad would spew "you're just like your mother" like an insult, a bad taste in his mouth when we would Argue. Like me being like her was so unbearable, that I should be like him.

Maybe Mom would still be alive if she was like him. If she valued herself more than she did other people.

I strummed lightly on the guitar that still had  Stickers from my mom on it. I had imagined that the guitar strap used to smell like her perfume at one point. I wondered when it had lost the scent.

A loud bang came from my window making me turn slightly to look at it. Nothing was there so I assumed it was the tree that was next to it.  I turned up the amp on the floor playing alittle louder before I heard the tap again.

I huffed and sat the guitar on the bed before walking over to the window. 

Luke Hemmings was on the branch closest to the roof throwing small rocks at the glass.

I opened the window and stuck my head out, "what the hell-" a rock hit my forehead making me close my eyes in annoyance. "What are you doing hemmings?"

He let his legs fall off the tree hanging with only his arms as he swung in the window, not waiting for me to move. I fell backward onto the ground with him on top of me, knocking the breath out of me as he landed straight on my chest.

"Ow." I breathed out wincing slightly.

He wasn't bothering to get off of me, but just pushing himself up with his hands so he wasn't putting all his weight on me. He looked down at me almost confused or maybe it was a look of embarrassment.

"Your hair's red." He stated.

It had been red for a week now.

I groaned and rolled my eyes before pushing him off of me and Onto the floor before I stood up. 

"What are you doing here hemmings?" I asked walking over to the window and closing it. 

Luke rolled over on the floor until he was under my bed. "Hiding." He simply said.

I could hear him rustling under my bed, his flashlight from his phone spewing out from under the bed.

"From who?" I asked jumping on my bed and making it dip down enough to hit his head. "Ow!" He yelled. 

"We're playing hide and seek, loser pays for lunch. This is the last place the guys would look." He said from under the bed.

Something was shot into my room and I looked to see a pair of underwear now hung on my desk.  I dipped my head down, hanging over the bed,  my hands flat on the floor  Luke shined his flashlight in my face making me squench my eyes. "Did you just slingshot my underwear you found under my bed?" I asked him unamused. He laid on his back under my bed smiling at me, "Yes."

I heard the front door slam,

"Hey, Gigi!" Ashton's voice rang through the house.

"Shit," Luke mumbled pulling my arms that were hanging over the bed, making me fall to the floor for yet the second time today, before pulling me under the bed up to his chest.

I winced again, "What the fu-" Luke's hand slapped over my mouth as he held a finger over his lips with his other hand. 

My heart raced. That was normal for ex-couples to still make each other nervous right? I'm sure it was because my heart was beating out of my rib cage as his face was inches away from mine giving me a serious look.

A knock on my door made me slightly jump. "Gigi, have you seen Luke?" Ashton's voice rang. Luke's hand gripped tightly on my bare hip holding me still as the door to my room opened.

"Great she's not even here," Ashton said as I saw his black shoes being walked into the room. He annoyingly groaned before his feet stomped out of the room. 

The door eventually shut downstairs.

Luke's hand remained on my hip and on my mouth as he stared at me. It seemed to be the theme today, me and him just staring at each other.

I snapped out of it as I tasted his hand on my mouth making me push him off and roll out from under the bed. "You're going to kill me if you keep knocking me over."

"That's the plan." He said rolling out himself. 

I jumped back on my bed sitting down on it, "How long are you going to stay? I've inhaled too much of your cologne today."

He rolled his eyes as he sat down on the rolling chair, spinning around. "You bought me this cologne." He seemed to regret the words as they came out of his mouth because he stopped spinning just for a second. "It's my least favorite one." He added.

"Same." I said, "bought it so you'd smell like shit."

I actually loved that scent. It was Luke's signature scent, the one where you would associate that smell with anyone with Luke.

"Glade were in agreement." He said almost awkwardly before starting to spin on my chair again. 

The setting was now awkward as well, The air was thick. "Get out." I said making him stand up abruptly, "Yep." 

He walked to the window and opened it. 

"You can uh... you can go out the front door." I told him. 

He shot me a quick smile before swinging himself out the window, "And Why would I do that?"

----

"Georgina." My name was called in class making me lift my head off the desk. The teacher looked at me unamused about the fact that I had been sleeping in her class.

"And what's the answer to number 16?" She asked.

"7," I mumbled exhausted before putting my head back down on the desk.

"That's uh... That's right."  She said surprised.

My chair was kicked from behind making me groan before turning around. "How'd you know that?" Calum asked me suspiciously.

"I know everything." I shrugged before turning around and putting my head back on the table. That wasn't completely true.

Every time we had an assignment number 16 was always 7. Our math teacher had gotten married on July 16th so she seemed to always make the date out of everything. Just a coincidence she asked me for number 16 or I would have been sat there like an idiot.

The bell rang making me groan yet again lifting my head off the desk yet again. "Okay! Pages 3 and 4 for homework."

Those pages would never get done.

I grabbed my bag off the floor and threw it over my shoulder, waiting for Calum to finish putting his papers in his bag. We had English together next.

"Who lost hide and seek on Saturday?" I asked him as we walked out of the classroom. "How did you know we played hide and seek?" He asked narrowing his eyes at me.

"Hemmings."

"Why did Luke tell you?"

"Because I asked."

"But why?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's Luke."

I shrugged lightly, "Well Luke told me you guys were playing so who lost? It was Michael wasn't it?" 

Calum stifled a laugh but nodded, "he hid in Ashton's car. You don't hide in the seeker's car." 

Sounded enough like Michael for me to believe it. My guess was that Calum probably hid in the neighbor's trash can. Maybe he even hid in my trash can.

"I won obviously, hid in Luke's Recycling bin. Took ash 5 hours to find me." He said proudly.

They did not take 5 hours to find Calum, they probably gave up and grabbed lunch without him. But if Calum thought he won then I wasn't going to burst his bubble. I think if even Ashton found Luke or Calum first, he wouldn't say anything but just search for Michael instead. Michael never paid for his own food.

"Hey In English did you want to be partners with Luke for our project?" Calum asked me suddenly.

My eyebrows scrunched as I looked over at him, "no I did not." I said stopping infront of the English room to look at him.

"Oh." He said looking infront of him, "Well you might be partners with Luke."

I narrowed my eyes at the Boy you was avoiding my gaze, "what do you mean I might be partners with hemmings?"

He smiled nervously, scratching the back of his next. "Me and uh... Maddie. Started it together already."

I blinked slowly at the boy. "Maddie's my partner."

"Not anymore." He said like a smartass making me hit the back of his head with my hand.

"It's not my fault! She convinced me!" Calum said pointing behind me making me turn. Maddie was standing there slowly walking backward with a big "oh no" look on her face.

Calum grabbed Maddie and held her infront of him, "You wouldn't hit a child would you?" He said bending down so he was covered by her. "I'm supposed to be Behind you!" She yelled at Calum hitting his head also. 

"Ow! Babe, we're on the same side." He said rubbing the back of his head.

"Sorry G. I promise I'll make it up to you," Maddie said looking at me sincerely.  Maddie wasn't allowed to date and could only hang out with guys if it was for school. So this project would give them an excuse to hang out at each other's houses.

"You owe me." I said pointing at Maddie, "And you owe me." I pointed to Calum, "and oh do you owe me." I turned and pointed at Luke who was about to walk into the classroom.  He stopped and looked at me confused not even knowing what our conversation had been about. 

"What." He simply said making me throw my head back groaning, pushing past them to get inside the classroom.

"If you're just walking in, sit anywhere with your partner." The English teacher said making me turn to Luke who was having what seemed to be the same conversation Calum had with me.

"Hell no," Luke said making me roll my eyes before taking a seat on the floor in the back of the room against the wall. I pulled my laptop out of my bag and opened it.

As I typed away on the keyboard trying to find the rubric, Luke groaned as he sat down next to me, his bag falling on my feet. "Did you do anything for it yet?" He asked me as I shook my head, "haven't even read the rubric."

"Great neither have I." He said sarcastically opening up his bag on my legs and pulling out a notebook and half a pencil.

I enlarged the rubric sent out in the email. "Over the next 4 weeks, you and your partner will face a series of questions that you each have to answer truthfully. Blah blah blah...At the beginning of each week, you will get 5 questions that you each will answer and discuss. Your answers will be used to distinguish the similarities and differences between you and your partner. The Monday after the questions are assigned, a small overview of the answers and your thoughts are due. At the end of the 4 weeks, you both will write a minimum 400-word essay. Blah blah...Since this project is long, most of the work will be done at home in your free time leaving class time to work on other topics." I read off the Email.

"This is the most English assignment ever. Compare feelings and then write about it." Luke mumbled throwing his broken pencil across the room at Calum. 

"You got that right," I mumbled. "When do you want to start?"

He shrugged closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. "What's this week's questions?"

I tapped on some files in the email before pulling up a document labeled  WEEK ONE QUESTIONS.

"One, perfect teeth or perfect hair?" I asked reading off the list.

"Easy hair, next." He said. I rolled my eyes at his answer, "Teeth determine everything." I told him. 

"0 for 1. Next." He said.

"Two, already know your answer on this, iced or hot?" I read, "and you're going to pick hot because 'what's the point of icing down a hot drink." I said mimicking his voice.

He opened up one of his eyes, glaring at me, "There's zero point in icing down a hot coffee!" 

"Ninjas or pirates?" 

Luke smiled, "ninjas." 

I groaned, were we ever going to get the same answer? "Mate, have you seen Pirates of the Caribbean? Jack sparrow? Will tuner? Elizabeth Swann? The hottest people to ever sail the oceans."

He scoffed, "I'm doing this on skill, not on looks like you." He mumbled quietly, "They are hot though." Under his breath. "But ninjas all the way."

"Question four." These questions were fucking stupid, "stop or go? And this time we answer at the same time okay?"

He nodded and counted down from three.

"Stop"

"Go."

I groaned throwing my head back, "Why the hell would you pick stop?"

He shrugged, "hitting every red light, kissing at the stop signs." He quoted one of his band's songs making me blink sarcastically if that was possible.

"Last one." I mumbled "Converse or vans?"

I looked down at what shoes we were wearing and sure enough I had white high top converse on and Luke had black vans on.

"Asshole," I mumbled closing my computer.

"Bitch."

[djarindykes]

Your butch Din posts have got me thinking that my ideal Star Wars au is where everything is the same BUT: all the male OT characters are queer women. Luke? Dyke. Han and Lando? Bi dykes. Red and Rogue Squadrons? Dykes. Chewie? Wookiee dyke. I'm 100% serious about this. Because even when everything is the same, the entire original trilogy takes on a whole host of new meanings if all the men (and there are many) are women. Particularly, I think, in Luke's case.

DUDE FUCK yes oh my god everything about this is so so so so good WOOKIEE DYKES ARE EVERGTNINGGGHGGJHD

Every single thing about star wars would be so different if it was a band of queer women. I agree 1000% about luke. Dyke luke interests me just as much as butch din does because the entire protagonist, hero-boy type gets totally flipped upside down if the hero-boy is actually a hero girl!

luke wouldn’t be taken seriously. let’s just admit that and not kid ourselves. She would fight tooth and nail to show the galaxy that she deserves to be known as the galactic war hero that she is but in fucking *joker voice* society it would fall flat. Her looks would come into play. The men of the rebellion would get the credit. Her integrity would be questioned. It’d be a lot

But……to every little girl in the galaxy she would be a fucking MONSTER. A QUEEN. there wouldn’t be a single girl out there wasting away on tatooine without a luke skywalker ballpoint pen. or dreaming up in the sky about what it would be like to be a legend like her, a pilot, a jedi, a total badass. she opens up a window for soooo many dreamers and imaginative women in the galaxy who need a farm girl turned jedi to look up to

dyke luke would be angry at the galaxy. She’d want her credit. She’d be the face of a lot of galactic social issues without even necessarily wanting to be. She’s tired of being a political pawn. but she ends up living her best elderly Jedi life on ossus with her butch wife and heals from all of the mistreatment the Galaxy has thrown her way. she finds comfort and peace. She gives mouse-girl realness and looks like a little pixie

Luke and Leia as sisters…..hoooly fuck I’m gonna froth

[allhallowsthemepark]

All Hallows - Ghoul City

The gateway to Ghoul City is located on the right side of the entry plaza as you enter, on the opposite side from Trick-or-Treat Village and Pumpkin Acres, and the contrast is both striking and deliberate. Rather than a friendly small neighborhood or a quiet farming town, Ghoul City is a chaotic metropolis of tall buildings and short patience...and plenty of monsters among the citizens. (It's subtle rather than explicit, but there is a bit of meta-narrative worldbuilding here: in Pumpkin Acres, the horror is hidden/plausibly deniable whereas in Ghoul City, it's right out in the open, and which situation is preferable is a matter of opinion.)

The entry sign takes the form of an American highway exit sign identifying the location as Poul City, with the P overwritten by a GH in dripping red spray paint. Upon entering the area, guests immediately find themselves downtown, on a street between tall brick buildings with boarded-up storefronts at ground level and residential units above. Every spare bit of wall is peppered with graffiti suggesting the existence of monster gangs, and the area is littered with interactive gizmos—ring a doorbell and an irritated wight shouts down at you from an upstairs window, or step on a certain manhole cover to have a motorcycle roar from the nearby alley while its rider's eyes glow red.

As with Pumpkin Acres, the setting for Ghoul City is entirely contemporary, with some old-fashioned twists...but here, rather than being held back by isolation and basic conservatism, the locals indulge in nostalgia. The 1950s, the decade which redefined monster movies, and the 1980s, the one that reinvented the horror genre and Halloween itself (and launched the Goth subculture), are major design influences. This is especially true of the area music loop (framed as a radio broadcast), which probably comes closest to exemplifying what most people think of as a “Halloween playlist.”

Past the first block is the city center, dressed as an open-air mall, complete with a small food court. From here, guests have a choice to go right toward the waterfront (AKA Gilman Municipal Beach) or left toward the suburbs. Each sub-area has its own attractions.

Characters

Unlike the cozy communities across the way, Ghoul City is densely populated and fairly anonymous. There are only a few consistent named characters...but on the other hand, there are more roving “scare-acters” here than in any other part of All Hallows. You might see zombie commuters, punk vampires (only after dark, of course), and werewolf bikers. The aggregate effect is of the sort of “hidden society” commonly posited by contemporary urban fantasy novels.

The two named characters guests are likely to encounter directly, Albert U. Carden and “Batty” Betty Z, are both associated with Club Bloodsucker (see Attractions), as its manager/emcee and deejay, respectively. They are not explicitly vampires, but with the way they present themselves, they don't need to be very explicit about it.

Attractions

Club Bloodsucker: Located where the entry walkway wraps around the “city center” on the way to the suburbs, Club Bloodsucker is a genuine dance club, with live bands on weekend nights, a live deejay on weekday nights, and a randomized playlist during the daylight hours. Decked out like a Goth club, the music on offer also leans toward the Goth end of things but covers enough genres that most people can probably find something to bop to while enjoying refreshments from the bar. (Minors are allowed in as long as they have adult supervision.)

Attack of the Monsters in 3-D!: The signature attraction of the “suburbs” section, a dark ride homage to the monster movie genre as a whole. Guests board classic convertibles and cruise through a city currently under attack by nearly every sort of monster imaginable, from aliens to zombies! Jump-scares and dark humor abound, building to a climax of ultimate destruction!

City Cemetery: In the far end of the suburb area is a picnic area dressed as a picturesque graveyard. There are no rides or elaborate shows, but it's a nice place to take a break from the clamor of the rest of Ghoul City and play with more interactive effects.

Warehouse Maze: The Ghoul City maze attraction is themed as a warehouse on the docks. Loud noises and glaring “safety lights” add to the disorientation as guests weave between wobbling crates, squeeze through claustrophobic spaces between shipping containers, and are startled by inhuman dock workers.

Deep Dive: Located on the waterfront, a flume ride/“water coaster” themed around escaping from aquatic monsters...or are you the monsters, trying to escape the humans? It's open to interpretation.

Shops and Eateries

6. Food Court: The city center contains about half a dozen counter-service eateries offering various sorts of fast food. Individual locations bear names like Frankenburger, Spucci's Pizza, Jiang Shi's Midnight Wok, and Poultry-geist.

7. COSTUMES COSTUMES COSTUMES: Ghoul City's costume shop is framed as if it were a giant overstock emporium. The costumes available here include costumes that mimic the look of a specific decade (50s greasers, hippies, etc.), “career” costumes (e.g. cop, doctor, soldier), “sexy” costumes, superheroes, and famous horror movie characters.

8. Rock 'N' Reel: A video and music store specializing in horror films and Halloween specials and albums. Streaming may be the dominant media platform these days, but Blu-Rays and even DVDs aren't dead yet, and vinyl is even undergoing a revival.

9. Treasures of the Deep: A souvenir shop located near the Deep Dive coaster, featuring all the sea monster memorabilia anyone could want.

Other

Continue following the walkway along the edge of the cemetery to reach an alternate entrance into County Drakul.

[pfhwrittes]

Delighted to be in the friend tag ❤️ yep I've got it scheduled to go up at noon my time (8 pm for you I think?)

Yipp-fucking-eeee !!! you have one song !!!! And it's a good one in my opinion. Also ew going at it on tempo is giving band kid. (Says this as a former band kid)

Right? If someone's passionate about something it's a beginning indication of it being worth your time as well.

Coffee is life. I will also drink caffeinated tea and one energy drink you put in water but everything else tastes chemically.

But I do have a story about me and Monster. So in highschool my friends handed me a 32oz and told me to drink it because we all were curious what would happen..... I then chugged it like a frat boy at a pub on Friday night or a Hobbit on a Tuesday. I don't remember much after that? But I do remember coming too covered in glitter and paint with some random bruises shoes in my backpack. I was forbidden from drinking it again as apparently I was a menace to society.

Random but today I'm doing prep work for making kimchi next week (have to make a vegan fish sauce because I'm allergic to the normal stuff and shrimp) and I'm imagining the boys attempting to eat it. Gaz, Soap, Laswell would be fine I think. But Ghost and Price would be fighting for their lives.

welcome, welcome you're in good company. be careful that @mortuarywriting doesn't skitter off with your writing because they will, the little menace. (i say little like i'm not five foot fuck all and they could definitely pick me up and put me in air jail)

8pm british summer time you say... 👀👀👀

lmaoooo i am HOWLING with laughter at the mental image i have of a person just dazed and confused experiencing the WORST sugar and caffeine hangover possible. it's giving milhouse and bart drinking the 100% syrup squishee from the simpsons. incredible work my friend, i'm very proud of you.

okay but kimchi is excellent and i am all for it. my condolences on the shrimp/crustacean/shellfish allergy. i know that pain all too well. i miss prawns every day of my life and i am so mad that i can't just snack on crab sticks anymore just for fun.

you're right that kate and gaz would be fine with kimchi. i think ghost would turn it down just because of the texture. price would perish due to the spice levels. and soap? it's too spicy for soap but he's a masochist so he'll eat it despite the way his eyes and nose would be streaming the entire time. he'd have the biggest grin on his face but he'd be bright red from the neck up and sweating the whole time

[kafkaoftherubble]

Dear emperor is about politics and the horrors of man made gods, how we sometimes idolize people to the point of worship.

But actually it's about the complex friendship between Ira and Edith, how politics tore them apart but their genuine mutual (platonic) love and respect for each other brought them together in the end and made Ira give Edith a second chance. He missed the friend he once had and eventually let her challenge his political beliefs because he just wanted her back.

BUT ACTUALLY dear emperor is about how disabled people and people who look different deserve to live.

Brandi was born with mental health issues while Ira's disabilities came later in life after serving in the military. They both deserve help, not because they're good people, but because they're human and as humans, we need to help each other.

Lewis has no disability but he has a birthmark that has made him stand out. He's been mocked for it and it sometimes it's almost a disability because the uneducated masses assume it's dangerous or some kind of disease or that he's dangerous because of it. It's just a way his face looks!!

And Edith. Her disability (left arm stuff) is self inflicted and so what? Even if she has it because of a stupid mistake, she deserves help as well. Even people who didn't think things through and are now disabled because of a dumb mistake deserve help. Someone who lost a limb doing a dumb trick deserves as much help and support as someone who lost one in a car accident.

Dear emperor is about love and kindness, how we have to be kind and help everyone, even if it means sacrificing luxuries or large amounts of our time and energy. As people who can help, we should.

Bruh, my late-night brain leaps into any sort of imagination easily (too easily in fact), and THIS? This created a whole ass studio of you on red velvety sofa, and then a bespectacled woman interviewer is sitting about one leg apart from you, and then there's a marble-constructed fireplace kinda thing behind you two, and because I don't know how you look, you're just Haanit-but-a-bit-smaller on a sofa, and you're basically being interviewed and the bespectacled woman took her glasses off and chewed on the tip while nodding attentively.

I'll say, with the way you let their lives play out in the story, it's more than just "disabled people deserve to live." It's that they are capable of feats and contributions as any able-bodied and/or neurotypical people. They are remaking countless lives—their enemies', their allies', and above all, their compatriots'—with their own striving. And it wasn't necessarily done despite their disabilities, or that they managed to scale hardship and achieve greatness equaled to an able-bodied/neurotypical folk. It's that their experience directly impacted them and shaped them such that they made their own unique contributions. They knew things the other folks didn't know, and because of that, their voices enriched the collective discourse and understanding of what it means to be in a community we called society.

All that mandates about being "normal" or "approved by State" has created only a very specific kind of people with uniform ideas which leads to stagnation. If Edith and Co. had been removed because they didn't conform to a narrow band of what counts as "normal and non-defective," then Odeda would only continue its fall.

It's not about how diversity, including disabled people, is good for a population. It's about why.