#so i knew doing this portrait will also be fun and. guessed right!

[chaotictomtom]

eddie but it's that queen II album cover. i just know he'll be singing at the top of his lungs the im lord of all darkness im queen of the night part of the march of the black queen

[lambertdiary]

Jealousy, Jealousy

"Sorry Won't Fix This" Masterlist

A/N: So I posted part two a couple of days ago and I had a few people asking for a part three, and I'm not gonna lie... I got a little carried away lol, so definitely I'll post a part 4. This was really fun to write and hopefully it'll be fun for you guys to read it! PLEASE let me know what you think 🫶🏻 Also I was watching an Andrew Garfield movie so keep that in mind.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: angst, language, jealousy, Dalton being shitty (again)

MASTERLIST     ✩    SEND ME A REQUEST

After Dalton left, Y/N just stared at the door trying to hold her tears in. She was doing a good job, until Chris walked through the door and asked her what was wrong. She broke down immediately, but Chris stayed with her comforting her all night. She cried until she couldn't anymore, and all that was left was a raging headache. 

Y/N told Chris everything, she had been avoiding that subject but letting it all out made her feel a lot better. She felt bad for Chloe, she really did, but at this point she just wanted to detach herself from the whole situation and just Dalton in general, so her next step was moving on.

“You need to forget about him Y/N, he’s not worth it” Y/N nodded agreeing with her friend, but a part of her still felt like she lost someone really important.

“I know I do” She sighed deeply before continuing “I guess the last time we broke up I thought we would somehow find our way back to each other, you know?”

“Y/N, I love you and I know what you mean, but I just want you to think of all the times he did something shitty, and then tell me you still want him”

Y/N laughed a little, admitting to herself stupid her feelings were “You’re right”

“I know I am, dude. Go out, have fun and meet guys who are not gonna kiss someone else in New Year’s”

After a minute of silence, Y/N finally built up the courage to ask “Did you know?”

“Know what?” Chris asked in confusion.

“That Chloe and Dalton were like together together”

Chris thought about her answer for a moment, but ultimately decided there was no point in hiding it anymore “Sort of… I mean I knew he was getting invited to her parents’ house and hanging out with some of her friends” Y/N just nodded, a sad look still on her face “But it doesn’t matter because you’re over him now”

Chris encouraged her to go out with someone. Y/N wasn’t the type to approach a guy and ask for his number, so Chris offered to introduce her to one of her friends she thought Y/N could get along with. 

She met Andrew a couple of days later, and she was surprised when they immediately hit it off. He was cute and funny and really easy to talk to, so Y/N was excited when he started to take her out on dates. They were seeing each other almost every day, and Y/N even took him to her favourite coffee shop, telling him that she got her best work done there and how it was the best coffee she ever had. He chuckled at her statement but agreed with her, sharing his love for coffee too.

⋆ ★

Dalton didn’t tell Chloe what happened that night, of course he didn’t. He kept seeing her like nothing happened and she couldn’t be happier about it. 

The thing is, Chloe felt like she didn’t have him for a number of reasons, even when they started dating he was barely any special towards her. Sure, she would spend a lot of time with him and he would seek her attention, he even drew her for an art project but that was before they became a thing, and the portrait was just somewhere in his dorm. 

She would go there with him and see the wall with a bunch of paintings and drawings of Y/N, and before he told her about them she had no idea they used to date, but she couldn’t help but feel jealous that she never made the wall. 

So one day she decided to ask him to put it up “I’m your girlfriend now, don’t you think it’s time you put the drawing of me on your wall?”

“Uh” He looked at his art displayed on the wall, realising a lot of them were Y/N “I will” He simply replied, thinking he could maybe do it later, but the look Chloe gave him made him understand that she meant right now. So he did, he stood up and removed a few portraits, making space for the new one. He couldn’t bring himself to actually get rid of them, so he decided to just leave them on his desk. That was weeks before he told her about his past with Y/N.

The day after Y/N rejected him he concluded it was officially over, so his relationship with Chloe got a little more serious. Chloe properly introduced him to her parents, they started to have more dates and they even had ‘romantic’ weekends.

Days went by and Dalton tried his best to keep Y/N out of his mind, constantly telling himself that he was with Chloe now and that it was for the best. He wanted to be a better boyfriend for her but he sometimes forgot to put in the effort.

One day Dalton decided to get coffee after class, buying one for him and one for his girlfriend who was waiting for him in his dorm. After receiving his order, he turned around and was ready to walk out, but a familiar face stopped him.

He saw Y/N sitting at one of the tables, talking and giggling with some other guy. Dalton stared at them for a moment, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the cups he was holding. He decided it would be better if he left, but just as he started to walk again he noticed the guy stand up and make his way to the washroom. 

Before he could think about it, he found himself standing in front of Y/N, giving her a questioning stare, as if she owed him any explanations. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a demanding tone.

Y/N was both surprised and annoyed at his question. She scoffed and crossed her arms, giving him a bland tone to make him feel like she didn’t care about him “What kind of question is that?”

“I know you’re here with someone, I saw him”

“Why do you care? Aren’t you still with Chloe?” Y/N asked him, pointing at the cup with her name on it. Dalton shrugged and thought about something else to say. She had a point, he was with Chloe now so he shouldn’t care, but he did “You should probably take your girlfriend her coffee, it’s gonna get cold”

“We need to talk”

“There’s nothing left to talk about”

Before Dalton could say something, someone else joined the table “Hi, I’m Andrew” He said, sitting across from Y/N. 

“Dalton” He replied, pressing his lips together.

“He was just leaving” Y/N quickly added.

“Oh” Andrew immediately suspected she didn’t want him there “Well, nice to meet you man”

Dalton clenched his jaw, he didn’t say anything else and just gave them a quick nod before leaving the coffee shop. He was walking to his dorm and the whole time he wished he had said something clever to Andrew.

When he got to his dorm, he was received with a sweet hug and kiss from Chloe, telling him how much he has missed him. As usual, they sat on his bed and talked about their day before moving on to schoolwork. 

“So, my birthday party is this Saturday and I was thinking we could wear the same colour” Chloe said out of nowhere.

Dalton tried to hide the fact that he forgot about her birthday “Uh- yeah, what are you wearing?”

“The dress I bought last week. I told you it was for my birthday, remember?” She asked, hurt and mad he forgot such an important detail. 

He nodded his head quickly “I remember baby, I’m sorry” Dalton brought her closer to him and gave her a reassuring kiss “We’ll both look phenomenal in pink”

⋆ ★

Y/N wasn’t surprised to see Dalton, it was impossible to avoid him completely given they lived in the same building, but anytime they saw each other they just pretended the other didn’t exist, it was working just fine for Dalton until he saw her with someone else. 

Her feelings towards him definitely changed, while she still felt like she lost someone important to her, she was also disappointed at how much he had changed since the party, so they were a mix of many different things. Often she couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if she tried harder when they were together, but at the same time she resented him for not always showing that he loved her the way she wanted him to.

“How long do we have to wait?” Andrew asked, holding his hair away from his forehead so the face mask wouldn’t stick to it.

“About 20 minutes” Y/N was smiling down at him, finishing up with the thick paste on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes and smiled back at her “Do you have like a hair thing I can borrow?”

Y/N chuckled and reached for another headband, carefully sticking all of his hair back “This is a great look on you” She joked.

They laughed as he looked at himself in the tiny mirror “I guess you’ll have to style me more often”

“I mean, you already look great all the time so I don’t think you need my help”

She watched as his smile went shy, almost sure he was blushing under the face mask. Andrew handed her the mirror and she put it back in a small vase that had a few makeup brushes in it.

“Did you make that?” Andrew asked, paying close attention to the drawings on it, recognising Y/N’s favourite flowers.

“The vase?” She asked and he nodded “Yeah, last year in a pottery class”

“A pottery class?”

“Yeah. I mean, I only went like 3 times but this is great, isn’t it?” She picked it up and examined it. It had been a long time since she did.

“May I?” Andrew grabbed it and looked at all the different colours on it “And you drew these?” He asked, pointing at the beautifully painted flowers.

“Not really, my- uh friend helped me with those, but I still did most of the job” She clarified.

“Oh…” He faked disappointment “And you had me over here thinking you were an artist”

She scoffed playfully as he took the vase from him “I am, did you see the one at the bottom?” Y/N showed him a smudged spot of paint that looked like it was supposed to be a flower “You wouldn’t get it, it’s abstract art” Andrew gave her a frisky look that made her blush  “Are you an artist?”

“Born to be but my lack of skills didn’t allow it, very tragic” Y/N giggled at his dramatics as she scooted closer to him “I can’t really draw… I mean I can, but it’s not very good” Andrew laughed “Why? Do you have a thing for artists?

A strange feeling took over her heart, but she just shook her head and forced a smile “No, just for guys that look good in headbands” She teased. Andrew felt his face get hot again and an impulse made him lean over, getting really close to her face but Y/N stopped him.

“You don’t wanna taste this face mask, it’s gonna linger for days” Andrew shrugged his shoulders and took a quick look at her lips, and then back at her eyes.

“You already have that effect on me”

Y/N was speechless. For a moment they stared at each other intensely, Y/N almost gave in, but the door swinging open made both of them jump.

“Oh- sorry to interrupt” Chris said slowly, dropping her things on her bed.

They turned red and quickly got away from each other, trying to cover their embarrassment “You didn’t, we’re just doing face masks”

“Without me?” Chris joked.

The three of them stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, and as soon as Andrew left Chris couldn’t help but tease Y/N about what she almost witnessed.

“So, I see you two are really getting along”

“I guess” Y/N replied, unsure of how to feel.

“What? Do you not like him?”

“I do… I think I do” She stopped to think about it for a moment “It’s been great but honestly i don’t know if I can take it any further”

“Y/N he’s like perfect for you” Chris stared at her friend, waiting for an explanation “Why not?”

“Because he’s not Dalton”

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

The world is large and time may be endless, but it's all an exciting adventure with the right person beside you. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants

A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.

Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck. 

“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.

He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.

She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.

She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.

Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.

It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.

“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.

“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.

Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”

Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”

A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

“Which portraits?”

“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”

“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.

Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.

He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”

“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.

He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”

“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”

“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”

“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”

Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”

The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –

Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.

Back to their beginning.

The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.

Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.

Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.

The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.

For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.

It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.

They learned how to adapt.

The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.

Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.

And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.

"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."

The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.

For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here. 

He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.

He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.

But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.

She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.

He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.

Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.

Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.

And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.

Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.

As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.

She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.

“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”

Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.

A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.

And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.

He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”

Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.

As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”

At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.

*****

Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.

She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.

The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.

Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.

To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.

They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.

To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”

He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”

“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.

He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”

Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.

“I’m an old soul.”

He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”

Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.

Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”

“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.

Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.

“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.

A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”

“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”

“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.

“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”

Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.

So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.

“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.

Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”

Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”

Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.

“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.

“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”

Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.

“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”

Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”

Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”

Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”

Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.

“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.

The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.

“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”

Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”

“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.” 

And it was.

And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.  

Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –

“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.

“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.

Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.

“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”

The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.

“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.

“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”

The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

*****

Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.

He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.

Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.

“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”

When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”

Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering. 

“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”

Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”

“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.

“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.

“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”

“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”

Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”

Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.

“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.

“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”

“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”

None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.

“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”

“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”

“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.

Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”

Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”

Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.

“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.

And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.

When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.

*****

The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.

The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.

Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.

The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.

Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.

As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.

It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.

“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”

“I think you give him too much credit.”

“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”

Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”

Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”

“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves. 

“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Good.”

“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”

They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.

“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.

“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.

“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”

They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”

“The European one,” she elaborated.

He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”

“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”

“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

**************

Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.

 “Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”

*******

@acourtofsnakes @a-frog-with-a-laptop @astra-ad-mare @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @bankerfrog @becarefuloflove @camerooonchiu @captain-swan-is-endgame @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @doubt-less @earthtolinds @elentiyawhitethorn @feyretales @goddess-aelin @highqueenofelfhame @jorjy-jo @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @llyncooljones @mariamuses @moodymelanist @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rhysiedarling @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @rowanaelinn @shyvioletcat @stardelia @superspiritfestival @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @the-lonelybarricade @the-regal-warrior @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @rowaelinscourt

[ask-the-bone-boys]

I have enjoyed this series SO much. It really shows how much work and love you've put into it and how much it means to you; I'll absolutely keep following it along through its completion. I look forward to its return in any form!

With that said, here's a proposal for you (and this is not me trying to sway what you decide; it's simply an idea I had after reading your post): since you DO enjoy the asking interactions, you could always continue doing that (obviously much less often so you're not burning yourself out) in the form of an OOC accompaniment to the fics! And by that, I mean, people could ask you or the characters about their thoughts on specific (non spoiler) things happening in the plot that wouldn't be actually happening in the fic itself. That would both let you continue to do some of the answering asks, AND it would mean you would need to do a lot less of it since you can progress the plot and provide answers to spoiler related asks at your leisure with writing, which wouldn't depend on the ask feature itself since it's already a planned part of the story.

P.S: I hope your winter break and next semester go great!

I'm glad you've liked it so much!! It's funny, this blog was originally meant to be a much smaller project that'd just give me something to do when I was bored, but now it's really grown into something I love working on just for the sake of creating! its such a weird mix of personal-to-me and just fucking around and its so so fun even if I have to change it up a lot!

that's a pretty cool idea, and I have seen others do it before, but sadly i don't really think it's very feasible at the moment :( ask culture itself has honestly been suffering a Ton on tumblr lately already, which was a big reason I stopped enjoying the ask blog format in the first place. But even besides that, there are. a LOT of things that happen in this story!!! And I know myself well enough to know that I would Not be satisfied by using character portraits that don't match the setting of whatever update they're commenting on. Meaning, I would likely end up putting in the work to draw a bunch of stuff anyway.

I'm trying to get this final event set up in time for me to get a large portion of it finished before I go back to school, because I know that once I get into the meat of the semester and living with roommates again I won't have nearly as much time or energy to put into answering asks in-character. It is very difficult to be constantly drawing the same character in 532 different outfits when your roommate is constantly sitting directly behind you !!!!! (and also i'll have homework and classes taking up my time too i guess)

So as sad as I am about it, once this event is wrapped up I really do think it'll be time I'll have to let the ask blog format go. I've been thinking on it for a really long time, honestly I think right after I posted that very last comic update, even before I went on hiatus, a part of me knew that I just couldn't keep doing this.

But I still love remembering it for what it was! That's the entire reason I'm setting up a send-off event in the first place, so we can have one last taste of that fun that comes with working on a story with other people! I'll admit I'm a little scared, but hopefully it'll be a blast!!!!

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Hello! :D

Can you share a few details on some writing and art you're very proud of? What makes these scenes and details so cool in your opinion?

Now that you've posted your story and are right at the beginning of your fiction writing journey, what advice would you give yourself from the art side of things? (Both creative pursuits are art! And both show some vulnerability to share.)

How does writing help your art? And vice versa?

Ooo fun! Let's see... Under a cut because it's long and stuff!

Art that I'm still proud of.

Everything just went right here, I got the glow effects and the ambience exactly how I wanted it. Plus his eyes move if you move your head. Also was my first time drawing/painting Nerevarine Teldryn and I kinda got hooked on this whole design. He lives in either Netch Leather or Chitin most of the time so... Plus obsessed with his hairstyle. Obsessed!

I came up with half his backstory doing this, right down to the scarring on Teldryn's arm being Dagoth Gares' handprint. The point of contact literally being Dagoth Gares grabbing Teldryn's arm and cursing him before dying. Plus the whole "ring doesn't fit" thing. I thought that would be fun after drawing Nerevar (who is physically small but huge personality-wise).

I still love this one to bits because I fully cemented how I want Sydari to look, her jewellery, clothing colour etc. She's very into finery, so everything she wears is highly embellished. Also, eyes move if you move your head. The portrait just worked! It just works. :D

As for writing, I'm still very proud of this scene from On Apocrypha.

Teldryn was pacing outside Sydari’s room, he could barely gleam what was going on in there and silently cursed the thickness of the adobe walls. He knew Aphia was badmouthing him again, he deserved it, sure but did she have to remind him of his failures every time they met? It was getting tiresome.

The door opened and Geldis emerged, holding a bowl of stew that he must have intended for him. Teldryn walked towards him, about to ask what had transpired when Geldis lifted his hand, motioning for Teldryn to follow him into the bar.

“What did she say?” Teldryn began as Geldis scrapped the now cold stew into the food bin.

“It’s not good Teldryn,” Geldis shook his head “It’s some sort of Daedric magic that’s keeping her like that, you’re definitely gonna need Neloth.”

Teldryn let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, “I guess… I was hoping to avoid having to interact with him directly”.

“I know, but Aphia thinks this is Hermaeus Mora’s doing,” Geldis threw the dirty bowl into a large, waterfilled basin, “You know Neloth is the only one who can help here”.

“I know, I just…” Teldryn began before Geldis cut him off.

“You feel bad leaving her, I know” Geldis pulled a clean bowl out from behind the counter and filled it with more stew before placing it in front of Teldryn. “Eat”.

“I’m not hungry,” Teldryn mumbled, that was a lie.

“Bullshit,” Geldis dropped a clean spoon next to the stew, “you’re starving, you’re tired and you stink like rotted fish.”

“Well, you don’t have to put it that bluntly,” Teldryn sighed, absent-mindedly taking the spoon.

“Just eat the damn food Teldryn, you’re no good to anyone in this state,” Geldis said, pulling a bottle of shein out from under the bar along with two earthenware mugs.

“Did Drovas make this?” Teldryn questioned, a disgusted look on his face, “You know everything he makes is bland as all hell,” he continued eating.

“No, you just don’t have any tastebuds anymore,” Geldis smirked sliding a full mug of shein across the counter. “Not everyone wants their ass burning after their meals, ya know,” he smirked before ducking under the counter.

“His cooking tastes like ash and salt, and you know it,” Teldryn drawled, “that better be some gods damn seasoning you’re fetching”.

“You can’t come storming in here in the small hours of the morning and expect a feast you know,” Geldis smiled before sliding over a small, dark bottle to Teldryn.

“No, but you could have this added to it prior,” Teldryn uncorked the bottle and began pouring the red, oily concoction into what remained of the stew before taking another bite, “Better”.

“I still don’t get your obsession with that, the amount you put in ruins literally everything that’s good about food,” Geldis quipped, taking a drink from his own mug, “Minor remaining side effects of Blight, hey?”

“No, no, it was that crap that Fyr fed me,” Teldryn remarked, scraping the last of his stew from the bowl, “can’t taste shit unless it’s on fire”. Teldryn stood and began moving back towards Sydari’s room.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re goin’?” Geldis called out, “Leave Aphia to do her damn job!”

Teldryn muttered something unsavoury under his breath before stamping back towards the bar, “I don’t want her alone in there,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

“She’s not, Aphia is there trying to do her damned job, you’re not helping her by hovering,” Geldis poured another drink for the two of them, “You have somewhere to be anyways”.

“I’d really rather not- “Teldryn began, Geldis raised his hand “Shh, you hear that?”

Teldryn paused, he could hear murmuring coming from down the hall. He almost sprinted to the source of the noise, Geldis not far behind. He arrived at the still-closed door to Sydari’s room and listened. More murmuring, two voices, hers.

“Teldryn, don’t” Geldis grabbed Teldryn’s arm right as he threw open the door.

It was fun to explore the lack of taste quirk. I'll be playing with it a lot more but I came up with that idea when writing this scene. He needed 5 seconds to calm down here. I'll add this to either the end of part 1 or the start of part 2 of Serious Mistakes, but I will probably edit what's here so that I get Geldis' voice more consistent with what's written in the chapter I already have up. It was the first thing I ever released and I still feel good about it.

I have a few hang-ups confidence-wise when releasing any creative work. I'm learning/telling myself to not give as much of a crap about the things I see as failings because honestly, it's only stuff that I see. No one else sees that. I think I'm doing ok with writing deep down, the damn thing has been rolling around in my brain for almost a year now so it's not like I'm writing without some idea of what's going on later in the story.

My advice to myself is to engage with the people who engage with you. If someone likes what you create, take the time to thank them. I reread a lot of comments because it makes me smile. It also makes me happy that people are noticing the little character quirks that I work into my art and writing. Things aren't always said directly, mostly implied. I like that people are examining my pieces enough to notice. I highly encourage people to zoom in on these arts! There are a lot of details in there.

It's nice to have some positivity after decades of negative reactions to my specific interests. Not giving a crap about the negativity is a goal! The fic deals with a lot of hard topics and I intend on exploring them fully. If it's not comfortable then that's good, trauma is not comfortable. Mine certainly isn't. Writing about it has helped me distance myself from the issues and heal slightly. I chose to do this for myself specifically, I'm writing something I want to read. And I like dark but funny shit. XD

Currently, my writing and personal art are in a bit of a circular loop, one feeds into the other. So I'm producing scenes that should appear in the fic at some point or are referenced in it in some way. Specifically these:

All kinda revolve around scenes or concepts that happen later on. The first one is after a shipwreck, the second is an observation from Teldryn's POV and the third one is after Teldryn gives Sydari a gift prior to a very boring party that he can't attend...he'd like to attend. He proclaims a thing, and it goes well before imploding due to a few documents that appear in the Thalmor's possession.

I am having a lot of fun here. It's nice to have a hyperfixation to stuff my free time into again. And I'm on holidays until August so...a lot of free time (outside of that other thing I'm working on). XD

[barry-j-blupjeans]

30 and Lucretia? :D

30. The painting fell off the wall

((35 situation prompts - still accepting!!))

--

The first thing that Lucretia noticed as she stepped back into her office was her portrait. Or rather, what used to be her portrait. The enchantment has faded, revealing the original painting of herself and the other members of... her family? The crew? She wasn't sure what terms to use to define them anymore.

Her desk is turned over, but the swivel chair still stands, though it had been launched towards the back of the room with whatever Hunger attack took place here. The few shelves she had had also fallen, their contents scattered over the floor. Her files were everywhere. Everything was everywhere.

Lucretia heaved herself into the chair and took a moment to just breathe. The last few days had been a lot. With the boys going off to Wonderland and then going offline directly after they had gotten out of Wonderland (Barry had something to do with that, she knew now. But she couldn't find it in her to want to ask yet). And then with the memories and the Hunger and, gods, she was tired.

They saved the world.

What does she do now?

The bulwark staff is now drained of its relic, but Lucretia, frankly, needed it to get around, so she still had it with her. She traded it from hand to hand, not really sure what to do or where to start. The crew surely didn't want her around. Would her employees still like her now that they know she was lying the whole time? Her family- the crew was one thing. She had already been feeling the responsibility of those actions for years. But her employees...

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The office door opened and Killian stuck her head in. She lingered by the door for a second, as if trying to figure out if she wanted to come further in, and then did so, shutting the door softly behind her.

"Hey, Director," Killian said. "Fun day."

"You don't need to call me that anymore," Lucretia said, feeling her age, not for the first time. "Just Lucretia is fine."

"Lucretia," Killian said, testing it out. Lucretia smiled slightly. "That's gonna take some getting used to."

She nodded, not really sure what to say to that, and adverted her eyes. Killian sat down on the overturned desk, tapping her fingers against the wood.

"It's a fuckin' mess in here," Killian said finally. Lucretia snorted, scrubbing her eyes with her palms.

"Thanks," she said. "I tried my best to be prepared for visitors."

"I can tell," Killian said. "Floor pens are all the rage nowadays, I hear."

Lucretia chuckled and that faded them into another silence. Killian had never been as patient as her, which was honestly something Lucretia admired. But it wasn't helping her headache when she asked, not even a minute later,

"So what's next?"

Lucretia sighed. She sat up a little straighter in her chair. Killian was looking at her now. There was a bandage around her arm and another around where her pants were torn. Lucretia took a moment to remember when she had first met Killian, years and years ago. Something about her made Lucretia feel a little bit safer. And after Maureen had passed, Killian truly had become one of Lucretia's right-hand people.

Here's a little thing the Voidfishes probably hadn't told anyone in their magic song: Lucretia hated lying.

"I don't know," Lucretia admitted, quietly. "I guess I'll have to... disband the Bureau. And maybe-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Killian said, raising her hands. "Hang on a sec- disband the Bureau? Why?"

"It's... I've served my purpose, Killian," Lucretia said. "I don't know what to do now that the Hunger's gone. It's- I-" Her grip tightened on the bulwark staff. "I didn't plan to make it this far."

"Lucretia," Killian said, standing up. She came forward, slowly, and with her hands out, like one would approach a scared animal. "Listen. I can't pretend to imagine all the bullshit you went through to get here."

"You heard the Voidfish," Lucretia said.

"Yeah, but that's like, facts and stuff," Killian said, kneeling next to her. "It doesn't give me the emotions you felt, Dir- Lucretia. So even though I know what happened, I don't really know what happened, right? That's not the point though. The point is that I can't imagine how weird you must be feeling right now. But you've got so much left to do, y'know?"

She patted the arm of Lucretia's desk chair, looking up with her.

"This here is a good thing," she said. "And I think it's got the potential to keep being a good thing if we work the right angles. I'm not gonna leave 'cus I found out your an alien or whatever-"

"Well, technically-"

"I'm staying because I want to know you," Killian said, gripping her arm. "Not famous Red Robe or Madam Director or whoever. I want to know Lucretia. Because I think that Lucretia wants to help people. And has done so time and time again at the cost of getting her own help. So maybe, while we're working on whatever this will be-" she gestured around the room, "we can work on who that Lucretia is as well."

Lucretia let out a shaky exhale, tipping her head up and blinking away tears. She didn't respond. Killian loosened the grip on her arm.

"Think about it," Killian said softly, standing up again. "No matter which way you go, I wanna be there for it, okay? With you as my friend, even if you're not my boss."

She started towards the door. Lucretia wiped the tears from her eyes. Killian paused in the doorframe again, glancing back at her.

"Carey's making some ramen in our dorm later," she said. "If you wanna come over and hang, I'm sure she'd be okay with that."

She shut the door softly behind her. Lucretia sank into her chair and cried.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

really it’s remarkable how much it’s like, my god, bmc’s doing all that & giving so much of [exactly what you could want] wherein it’s generally so rare to find / difficult to wring those things from just anywhere else, but here it’s so straightforward & permeating & Deliberate like well im overwhelmed & like

just one thing to touch on re: that sort of thing is bway agtikbi like, dear god. what a fun song, first of all, just on its own. the fact that jeremy & christine overall are So good which is an opinion but i’m right, and regardless of my also being right, i’m Discerning lol, like you Can Naught just throw a gesture at [romance] at me out here, swatting that shit away like cmon. don’t make me sit through this. but that we have these Displays of how like, this isn’t the sk8r boi [he was a boy she was a girl what more can i say] setup for like, why’s jeremy like this particular girl?? who knows??? & who cares b/c he’s some boy & she’s some girl so can i make it any more obvious???? like, she is Individually Characterized immediately like, she’s not the generic anygirl next door nor like oh the peak [performing femininity Correctly] girl anyone would be in love with, she’s also not even simply the like manic pixie dream girl(tm) situation when she’s really not even doing things “correctly” enough for that either, but even if you loosely categorize it thusly, here’s jeremy actually immediately being her mpdg in return lmao like she notices him, he’s immediately behaving in an elevated & dramatic way too, making a noise & fleeing the scene, like there’s Your attention-grabbing interest-capturing little weirdo too lmfao. the fact that in ilpr it’s a solo character portrait song but it’s also v relevant that jeremy’s there, jeremy has a role in christine’s arc the entire way here rather than like oh christine forever Simply Does Her Own Thing and jeremy gets to hitch his arc to this & get pulled along, like, she would’ve retreated to reading & waiting for rehearsal to actually start & then focused on going through that rehearsal, but it’s b/c of jeremy’s clear Interest & participation that she starts and then continues this song & gets increasingly fully Enthused & Expressive with it, she never is Just Being Herself(tm) fully, especially if there’s anyone else around and/or it’s not in the context of rehearsal or wherever else it’s safe to be so theatrical & enthusiastically so. and that they’re both just having a fantastic time lmao, the acting kills it so hard. like i’m always saying, if you can see those ilpr rehearsal / press day antics & Not be like “omg. them” then well alright but i don’t know how you manage it lmao

and i love how agtikbi is like, clearly a love song, and it’s a love song between christine and jeremy except also it’s Not, b/c christine’s singing about jake, except for the Very Straightforwardly About Jeremy “guess there’s a part of me that wants to / who knew??” section which, i like have to sit down, it’s So sweet lmao. and it’s that like, just like in ilpr there’s really still this indication that christine already Likes jeremy as well to a nonzero/increasing degree, but here she’s not even like engaging with the concept of “oh i guess i’m In Love With jeremy” b/c she’s instead engaging with “oh i guess i’m In Love With jake maybe possibly,” but the element of that closeness & affection & interest b/w her and jeremy organically manifests anyways, without a required conscious Romantic Narrative to it, actually (and stuff like this wherein it’s like, it’s already not the point of anyone’s arc that Being Eternal Romantic Soulmates saved the day rather than Being Ourselves Together / Via Mutual Support, but b/c it’s the latter that’s True throughout this story & is what matters, it doesn’t make sense to assume that jeremy & christine’s relationship is Nothing, or something superficial & insignificant at least, if for whatever reason they aren’t dating) like, that this Enthusiasm isn’t contingent on consciously focusing on one’s crush, and the enjoyment of their interactions isn’t either, when jeremy obviously v much knows he Likes christine, but she’s considering Liking jake, since that’s her way of venturing outside what she already knows & what she considers to be the rules & bounds by which she can remain safe enough / socially tolerated and maybe sometimes even move beyond to enjoying herself & being accepted. the Bowling Alley Performance Art interaction that leads into the scene like, my god. the moment when christine hugs herself to jeremy while singing about how she guesses a part of her likes to hang with him. i’m flipping out.

all this and the way that, of course, this is reprised as what’s now a straightforwardly romantic moment b/w christine and jeremy at the halloween party on the couch, when it’s this bookend of how like, okay, their forays into connecting with Popular People that followed agtikbi are fairly in shambles rn & they’re sure feeling worse for wear about that, but not yet fully [i suppose i’m having a crisis] about it, and of course this reprise Begins as specifically a reprisal of the “guess there’s a part of me that wants to / who knew?” sections of the original number, but wherein by contrast, with christine now more conscious of Liking Jeremy as well, the first line “it’s kinda killer to sit and chat with you” is now applying that word “Kinda” towards jeremy, like, now definitely actually considering how she might feel about him, romantically, rather than the titular Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into being jake, and of course that “kinda” then turns into “pretty” for the rest of the verses, and there’s no Guessing or “who knew?” tempering (addendum: that “who knew?” becomes “it’s true” in the reprise =‘] ). and of course the more downtempo & quiet execution, just like, in awe of that switch b/w off bway and bway where instead of getting bolder and more dramatic via a volume increase, jeremy stays as soft & downtempo when asking her out, like, help....that this Very Much Peak Love Song moment between the two, who have obviously been bonding over like, higher energy elevated spontaneity together, which is fantastic and which has already involved Vulnerability b/c neither of them are Just Like That with Just Anyone, as well as has been Real & Genuine since behaving in ways that seem weird / noticeably theatrical to others can sure be like that, but they also can have these moments of being vulnerable while very outside of both their elements or any guiding rails within a particular Situation, and they did just manage to again totally naturally have one of those especially spontaneous, elevated moments, despite both being unhappy & hiding out on this couch & uncertain where to go from here long term or short term, i don’t know what i’m supposed to say, just say what’s on your mind....and the Nd Communication / Socializing moments lmao, express yourself through some weird noise that’s improvised every afternoon or night, echo & build on that together & enjoy that completely, despite that it clearly doesn’t Fit In, but even once that moment of connection / particular exercise of that particular way of expressing themselves subsides, they’re able to have this interaction of even increasingly vulnerability / intimacy Within that subsided vibe, not propelled by peak spontaneous enthusiasm, but where like, the Emotional aspect is one that just as real & as close as ever even though it’s not happening with this peak Passionate Effusion of like, oh what must be Realest must be what’s most unfiltered & spontaneous & elevated, filters & hesitation / restraint / second-guessing & Not feeling “wow this is the most intense emotion i know, and i’m gonna just dive right into that and see where it takes me” must all lead people Away from what’s most genuine & right for them & etc etc. when that’s hardly true in general, and again from the like Neurodivergent For Neurodivergent angle b/w christine & jeremy, that’s another layer of how “um just be yourself :)” doesn’t mean everything and Being Yourself for real involves conscious effort rather than the shedding of that, and the fact that jeremy & christine’s relationship exists when they’re being fully spontaneous (which they can’t Just Do around anyone, anytime) And Also when they’re having this dialed back slower and quieter moment where it takes a little bit of back and forth to work up to saying something more direct....Augh

all that as kind of contextualizing leadup to Falling Over about the first agtikbi scene where it’s like good god they’re So precious already and that now it’s time for this banger of a song AND THEN when the section that Is truly directly more about christine and jeremy kicks in we have given the delightful chorus GLITTERY HEARTS with which to enhance the choreography and illustrate the apparent situation here and i personally am like leaning over clenching a fist like holy shit jesus christ i can’t believe bmc gives us so much so straightforwardly. and then the agtikbi reprise comes along and that’s yet another thing i crumple & explode over. thank you so much ;m;

[bgw57]

bgw57

All Their Stuff

It didn't start with me - saving and hanging on to things. In fact I'd say I was at least a third generation pack rat on both sides of my family. And for this I am very grateful. I mean, it's fun having this stuff. And I think you can see by the volume and variety of it that a sort of family tradition developed, a way of looking at objects and especially documents of our daily lives, wherein collecting and saving them was just the normal thing to do. Ticket stubs, newspaper clippings, aka scrapbook items. Photos of course everyone saves, that is until the generation that doesn't comes along and donates them by the album full to their local thrift store. I volunteer at one, and have adopted a couple of those families, saving them from the dumpster. And we save documents, right? Tax returns, insurance documents, wills, deeds. And salt and pepper shakers.

These are some of the oldest things I have:

My father's mother's baby photo. Besse Grace Moore was born in 1883. There are not a lot of snapshots from the 19th century, which is when all my grandparents were born, although some of my grandmother's studio portraits were pretty candid seeming and casual.

Here she is in 1893, looking very calm and collected at 10. The hat. The ribbon everywhere. The Moores lived in and around Panora, and Guthrie Center, Iowa. I like this next one, which shows more personality that usual for photos of the time, or is that a misconception? Perhaps this is a holdover from the early days of photography - long exposures due to slower film, or plates.

Ah ha! It's from her I inherited my droopy left upper eye lid.

If I had to guess, I'd say the genetic aspect of my struggles with depression was something she and I shared. There's a sadness or loneliness in her expression here that she also hints at in her correspondence (yes, I have a lot of the letters she wrote to my parents). She's often on the verge of throwing a pity party. Ruth, her daughter-in-law, my mom, used to poke fun of Grandma's sadsack-ery, quoting a line supposedly common to her letters, "Thought surely I would hear from you today." I just now realized - I have those letters. I can find out, was my mom just doing Besse schtick?

I would love to hear the conversation around these outfits. Who's idea was it? Was it a local fashion? Did they make them themselves or have them made? I never knew my grandmother to be a seamstress but she died when I was 11, in 1968, so she may have given it up long before. Although again, in her letters and diaries I don't remember her talking about sewing, but there's much I have yet to read. She does go on and on about the gardening, canning, washing, ironing and all the other daily chores of an Iowa farm wife in the first half of the 20th century. Chores and the weather in fact are two of her favorite subjects.

Speaking of farms and farming - though now an old goat, I was once and briefly a goat hill. The buffalo plaid jacket became a thing thanks to the Grumpy Old Men movies. Ugh. As if Minnesota and Minnesotans needed anything more to be cute and smug about - they've now co-opted my grandfather's hunting jacket. That would be Grant Williams, husband to Besse above. I don't remember him as he died when I was just 2.5 but I love having his jacket, complete with a game pocket where you can put your dead animals. Don't worry, the pocket's interior is (or rather was) rubberized so the blood and guts rinse right off. I wish I could find a date and manufacturer but the labels are long gone. When I was a kid, at our house on E-as-in-easy-avenue, this jacket hung by the kitchen door. Someone had painted while wearing it and it was the coat your threw on in cold weather to take out the garbage, or better yet, burn the trash! Outside the picket fence, between it and the alley, was the 50 gallon drum with the to top cut out. It sat on cinder blocks and taking out the trash was definitely not a chore for this young pyromaniac.

One hot dry summer afternoon before I was old enough and Ruth did this chore, a burning phone bill or cast off mailing from RCA Record Club was sent aloft by the hot air above the burning barrel and, landing on a pine shrub, set it ablaze. Luckily, Mrs. A. of the perfect lawn next door, who often surveilled the Williams backyard from her kitchen window as she did the dishes, rushed to Ruth's aid brandishing one of her several garden hoses. That was a summer, for sure.

Compare this to the dark of an Iowa January evening - dark even before dinner, which is saying something when dinner is at 5:30 during Walter Cronkite. Ruth is watching me from our kitchen window. I'm 13 and lighting a fire so I guess it made sense. The barrel by this time is rusted and the bottom is mostly hole. Sometimes you have to tend the fire a bit, it's snowed and that doesn't help. I have a special stick to stir the flames. This trash load includes the contents of the bathroom wastebasket.

Now, I'm not athletic. I'm the last kid picked for every gym class team ever formed. But as I stand there in the snow in Grandpa's hunting jacket, watching the trash burn, I discover a flaming Kotex pad, now ball of fire and fallen through the hole at the bottom, makes the perfect puck to my suddenly hockey stick. It's almost meditative, batting the burning pad around, all sparkled over with red embers and flame on the snowy ground.

When come in for dinner, flushed with cold and pride at doing my chore, I don't know what to say to Mom when, embarrassed and cross, she attempts to scold me for doing something she's too prudish to describe. "That burning paper you were playing with," is as close as she can get. The quickest way out of this unpleasant moment is to deny everything and go wash my hands for supper.

To stretch this cooling off moment just a little further, I weigh myself. 110 pounds. Standing on that very same scale today, dressed, I weigh 159, including the hemp Adidas. Jim and Ruth bought the scale with King Korn stamps, and there is probably a partially filled book of those somewhere in all my stuff, too.

next time on All My Stuff - The Other Williamses

[lyd-jms-lwrs]

Heads and Three Tales - Foundation Art and Design Final Project 2022

SUBJECT ONE: BOX APOCALYPSE: ZOMBIE

Box’s origin story is kind of funny. Back in end 2021, I was brainstorming what I wanted to do for my final piece and for some reason, I really wanted to make a picture wearing a box head. But, I could not find a way to create a whole project around this one stupid self portrait idea, so I decided to abandon it. Sort of. Instead of making it a self portrait, I turned the idea into a character. Box was born.

She did not have a name for the longest time. I would just refer to her as ‘box’ and my friends ultimately decided that maybe I should just call her that. And I think it suits her really well. When I look at Box, I can see what inspired me at the time. I was enjoying the idea of a masked killer and the idea of a borderline manic character who was in the grey area when looking at morals. I did not want Box to be the villain, that’s why instead of her hunting you down in the story, she becomes your friend and wants to look after you — calling you “Buttercup” and comparing you to a plushie, something she loves as stated in her profile.

Lydia James-Louwerse - FMP - Digital Sketchbook

Box is probably the most unrealistic character (which makes sense since her story is about zombies). She’s the most fictional out of all three. The only remotely realistic thing about her is her dress which is a real garment that I own. In the very first draft of the plan, she was going to wear the creeper head like in the reference photos I made, but I decided against it. It would have been funny, but I also thought it would come off as lazy — that I could not be bothered to design my own mask. The design for the mask came naturally. I knew I wanted it to have a face with a smile to show off her sunny personality. Yes, she might be borderline manic, but she only dislikes zombies and people who try and hurt her. I wanted to add a bit of mystery to her design and that’s where the idea of removing one of her eyes came from. One trope I despise in fiction is the untouchable, crazy good fighter who does not get hurt. I wanted people to see that she isn’t untouchable. She does feel pain. She is only human.

I knew I wanted to kill off all of the characters in the end. I wanted to show people that in certain situations, you are never better off alone, even if you think you might be. Even though it is said in Box’s profile that she dislikes humans, I believe it is impossible to dislike all humans. I say I hate people sometimes, but I don’t mean it and I know that I don’t mean it. I guess I am just worried I will be hurt by humans. Like Box.

I like Box a lot.

Box’s design was the hardest for me to get right. I think it’s because I knew exactly how I wanted her to look.

It took me some time to get it right but I finally managed to find a design I was happy with. One thing that I noticed only after I finished designing Grey is all of the characteristics that I ended up removing from Box’s design, I gave to Grey – the piece of fringe that crosses on her forehead and the cowlick which is inspired by ‘Ahoge’ (meaning ‘idiot hair’) from Japanese anime and manga.

This was the final design that I came up with for Box. I turned this into a lino print which was just going to be for fun but ended up contributing to another piece of my exhibition – the wanted poster. It is mentioned in Box’s story that there is a wanted poster of her and I thought it would be fun to make this poster in real life and stick it around the building to add to that immersive experience.

These were the first reference photos I took when I was designing Box. As you can see, not a lot has changed except the design on the box and the cut of the dress. I was going to have her box head be a Creeper from Minecraft but decided against it as I thought it would ruin the immersion by having something from our world.

[tinyhistory]

Hey! Love your stories so much I just had to ask! Do you have any favorite drarry authors/stories? I sometimes compare the quality of other stories to ROA (oops!) because ROA is just that good. My personal favorites are ROA (of course!), the Foundations Series (saras_girl), the ordeal of being known (louisfake), denouement (the_never_was), Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You) (AWickedMemory), and To Hurt and Heal (cassisluna). Have you read these? Have a wonderful day! :)

Thank you, so glad you’ve enjoyed my stories! And thank you for so patiently waiting for a reply. I haven’t been online much in the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately I haven’t read any of your recs, but I’m always happy to add another fic to my to-read list.

I did a rec post a few months ago, but I’ll post an updated version now. The Skyhawke Archives appear to be down, which is crushing news. I’ve had to update a lot of the links.

So here are my favourite Drarry fanfics:

And We Are At Our Apogee (PG-13) by angelgazing

Summary: Draco wanted revenge, but it didn't work out that way.

My notes: Californian beaches, supermarkets, road trips, and a bittersweet ending.

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A Reckless State of Mind (T) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.

Notes: The plot alone guarantees inclusion on this list. Probably the most creative fic I’ve ever read, and the twists and turns will keep you guessing.

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Berlin, In the Year of Our Lord (PG) by Are

Summary: Harry is a green-tea addict. Draco stalks him.

Notes: Probably my all-time favourite fic, along with Blue Vase. It’s sparse and minimal and I love that writing style.

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Blue Vase (M) by ivyblossom

Summary: Let’s pretend.

Notes: Draco finds an amnesiac Harry and befriends him, pretending they were once lovers. It’s pensive, short, and bittersweet.

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The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (E) by lettered

Summary: Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Notes: Action-heavy fics are damn hard to write, but lettered nails it. The action scenes are breakneck speed, the conversations are threaded with double meaning, and even the silences are tense.

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Draco in Darkness (T) by Plumeria47.

Summary: Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight.

Notes: This is one of the first fics I ever read (when it was over on FF in 2003) so it’s probably here just for nostalgia points alone. I read it when I was a kid and just thought it was a lovely golden fairytale, the best romance I’d ever read in my (very short, thus far) life. I love reading it again, even years later as an adult when I can see the tarnish on it; the things my childhood eyes didn’t notice. I don’t care. It’s my soft and fuzzy comfort fic.

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The Flesh is Frail (NC-17) by wildestranger

Summary: None

Notes: Draco has injuries from curses and spells, and Harry keeps him company. Draco is angry; Harry is stubborn. They argue their way into a grudging relationship. It’s a short read and well worth your ten minutes.

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Good-bye to Yesterday (NC-17) by furiosity

Summary: Draco felt ready to face even a million years in Azkaban as long as it meant that at the end of it all, he would make Potter pay.

Notes: It’s not a dark fic, but it certainly dips in and out of the shadows. If you like your romance to be sharp as a razor and bitter as black coffee, give it a read.

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Hymn to Color (PG) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Months after Draco cast a curse that took Harry’s eyesight, Harry is still trying to come to terms with it. Draco still wanted forgiveness, which was probably the problem.

Notes: Probably my very inadequate idea of “fluff”. It’s a quiet, introspective fic. Draco and Harry are well-written.

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Kings among runaways (PG) by enderxenocide.

Summary: Later, the toast will be slightly overcooked, Draco will burn the eggs, and there will be another fist fight in-between the living room and the front door, but they’ll eat breakfast with second-hand plates and Draco’s great-grandmother’s silverware.

Notes: Dreamy descriptions, abstract scenes, and the characters are lovingly delineated. Beautiful writing.

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On Broken Glass (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: After the final battle, Draco is holding the shards that are left of his and Harry’s life.

Notes: Established relationship. Harry’s forgetful and seems to suffer both short-term and long-term memory loss; Draco stays by his side through six years of post-war amnesia. Very short, just a tiny ficlet. There’s sequels (in bite-size pieces) but I prefer to read the first ficlet and leave it there.

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Paper Dolls (M) by cupiscent

Summary: In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.

Notes: Short, succinct, and packs a punch. No character deaths, in case the summary has you feeling nervous.

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Portrait (PG-13) by Silent Blast

Summary: None.

Notes: Dorian Grey, but Drarry. Of course it’s going to be good.

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Shattered (NC-17) by femmequixotic

Summary: One damned accident involving one too-lucky curse, and suddenly you'd think he was five again, with their Harry, be carefuls and their quick Levitating charms ready the instant the potion gives way and his rebelling hands lose hold of whatever's in their grasp.

Notes: Draco’s an artist. Harry’s intrigued by his sculptures and paintings.

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Snatch (PG-13) by didntyoupotter

Summary: Harry is comatose, Hermione and Ron aren’t much help, and Draco isn’t sure about anything anymore.

Notes: The opening scene fools you into thinking this will be a light read with a streak of good humour. Don’t fall for it. By the third act, you’ll be hanging onto every word and feeling a lot of emotions. Also, back in the day, this was one of the Draco/Harry fics. Everyone knew of it. Pay your respects to your fandom history and read this beloved classic.

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The Stages of Acceptance (T) by Lomonaaeren.

Summary: Harry, already happily married to Ginny, receives the news that he's Draco's mate. Law and custom don't give him the option of ignoring the news. The stages of his reaction, one by one.

Notes: This is not a romance, and I love that the author just casually chucks all the Veela tropes in the bin and says “nope”. In Lomonaaeren’s own words, this fic is more practical than romantic. Harry is unfamiliar with the Veela concepts and hates the very idea of being “shackled” to someone; he rejects Draco at once. Draco is miserable and lonely. They do eventually come to understand each other better, but it’s a huge struggle with lots of setbacks. The general air of pessimism and misery does make the small glimpses of compassion and empathy feel so well-earned. I love a fic that rations out its happiness.

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The Stately Homes of Wiltshire (E) by waspabi

Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Notes: This one needs no introduction. The writing is polished, the characterisation perfect, and the dialogue is fun. I love the humour woven throughout it.

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Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (E) by faithwood.

Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

Notes: Another one that most of us know. It’s a lighthearted and fun read.

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Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (M) by novembersnow

Summary: In the war-torn years after Hogwarts, one man has no knowledge of his yesterdays.

Notes: Another classic back in the feverish heyday of the Harry Potter fandom, when books were still being released and everyone had worked themselves up into a shipping frenzy. And no wonder this fic was an instant hit. Draco has lost all his memories and Harry’s investigating as an Auror, but the longer you read, the more you start questioning everything. Good twists and turns that lead to a tender ending.

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Turn by Saras_Girl

Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Notes: An inevitable inclusion on any favourites list. I think my favourite thing about it is the characterisation. Everyone is so well-rounded; the characters are brought to life and feel like old friends. All their habits, styles, mannerisms, even the way they walk or talk. While I love everyone in this fic, I have to admit that Blaise is just amazing. Of all the thousands of Blaises imagined by fanfic writers, I love this one the best. “Old bean” indeed.

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Under the Ivy (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: It is impressive how much you can learn about someone by simply sharing a few rooms. They don’t spend time together, not really, but Harry still knows that Malfoy prefers raspberry jam over strawberry, that he hums along to the Wireless when he thinks no one is around, and that his leg is bothering him more than usual when the temperatures drop below freezing.

Notes: Another old, old favourite of mine. It’s like snuggling into a soft blanket. Remus owns a cottage and Harry moves in after the war. Later, Remus lets a room to Draco, who is an outcast after the war and has limited housing options. Harry isn’t happy at first with the new lodger, but he eventually warms up to Draco. A slow and gentle romance.

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Vale Sanare (M) by rurounihime

Summary: Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

Notes: London nightclubs, one-night-stands, loud music and lonely nights. Draco has seizures due to a curse from the war, and the seizures have led to a fear of intimacy. Short and sweet.

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The Way Down (T) by lettered

Summary: Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.”

Notes: I just adore this fic. The fic starts well-grounded, giving you a solid backstory and matter-of-fact context, but as it goes on, it slowly unravels into dreamy scenes, lush settings, and repeated motifs. It’s just such a beautiful story.

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When Love beckons to you, follow him (PG-13) by megyal

Summary: Draco wakes up, lost, somewhere in a forest. He has no idea where he is or how he got there. As he is blundering around trying to find his way home, he hears Harry's voice in his head, telling him what to do.

Notes: I generally like my fics to be bittersweet or with a bit of heartache — but this fic is just a little cloud of softness. If you need something light and lovely without being syrupy-sweet, this is a good choice!

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The World of the Living (M) by fourth_rose

Summary: A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.

Notes: The story is told from Luna’s perspective, which gives everything a lovely dreamy quality. She takes in a couple of strays after the war — first Harry, who is avoiding his other friends and has quit his Auror job — and then she offers a room to Draco right after his trial. Draco is rude, angry, and ungrateful; Harry is churlish, withdrawn, and moody. Luna doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and over the course of the next few months, her house guests slowly warm up to each other.

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Voices From the Fog (E) by noeon

Summary: After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

Notes: Harry drifts across Europe, trying to forget the war. He ends up in a woodworking shop in Amsterdam, alongside a moody Draco. Atmospheric settings and solid characterisation.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 36

Sorry about the delay. But now its here and its ready for consumption.

Also, Shout to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as ShamelesslyRomantic,

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

_____________________________________________________________

“Finished,” the artist akuma stated as he addressed his master.

Masquerade got up from her throne to look at the room. The classroom had been transformed into a rather spacious throne room. The artist had erased and redrawn walls to ensure the room was much larger. This new space also had several large windows adorned with elegant black and white curtains hanging from the top. Reflekta servants decked out in masquerade themed armor stood at attention on each step leading to her throne. Beautiful artwork of her decorated the walls, including an imposing portrait of her behind her throne that made it look as if she was looking down at everyone looking up at it. To her that came off as self-interested yet tasteful. The masked akuma even loved the addition of a red carpet that led up to her throne.

“This is quite satisfactory, Evillustrator. Just be sure to reinforce the walls of the room then head to the roof and locate Simularé. I want this place to be a fortress,” Masquerade ordered

“Understood,” the akuma nodded, his expression unreadable from the white face mask. He quickly headed to the door out of the room and Stone heart was guarding the door with his large frame and had to let the artist out.

“Gamer! Robostus! Status report!”

“We have made it so we could hack into every screen in Paris that is connected to the internet, as per your request,” the Gamer responded in monotone.

Masquerade smiled at that.

“Excellent. Do we have the cameras ready?”

The Reflekta copies near the robot akuma were being outfitted with recording gear.

“Affirmative, we will be ready to go live at your request.”

The masked akuma smiled at that news, she turned her attention to Princess Fragrance and the original Reflekta, who had just finished turning the last of the captured individuals into obedient copies of her.

“Has everyone in the school been rounded up and handled?”

“Dark Cupid and Reverser are doing a final sweep of any runaway stragglers. Stormy weather is going around flooding and freezing any empty hallways to flush out any that are hiding. There are Reflekta copies guarding the blocked off exits should anyone try and escape. But over 96% of the student body has been accounted for and 99% of all Faculty.” Princess Fragrance answered.

‘The missing ones are likely Marinette and Adrien. Those two never did make anything easy for me, did they? But it didn’t matter, their luck would run out soon enough. Once Ladybug and Chat noir were handled, then I could focus on making them pay,’ Masquerade grinned to herself.

She could picture how it would be, finding them and seeing their desperate faces as they realized that no hero would be able to save them. The first thing she would do was show them both her little empire. They thought she was bad when she had the school wrapped around her finger, they will be mortified when they see Paris. She would have all their friends and family captured, their best friends leading the cruel treatment of the rest. This would have them in tears and begging for mercy.

She did once consider letting Adrien be her boyfriend, with some perfume to sway him. He would have been a perfect boytoy to taunt Marinette with, but Masquerade realized how far above him she was now. She didn’t need him anymore, and truthfully, he was just as bad as Marinette, if not worse. Marinette had the audacity to dislike her and challenge her, but Adrien, he was so condescending, acting like she should be better than her actions. She could swear she saw pity in his eyes, and that was so much worse.

Though she wasn’t completely heartless, if they begged to be her personal servants and apologized for standing against her, then maybe she would let them have some mercy. Having Marinette clean up after her and make those admittedly delicious baked goods would be nice and having Adrien wait on her hand and foot like a personal butler would be quite fun. Maybe they would think if they did a good enough job their families would suffer less.

She did want to daydream about that idea more but she knew that she needed to focus on the present.

“Alright, Let’s start moving to stage 2. Gamer! I want a comprehensive list of every akuma victim outside of the school. Robostus! Make sure the cameras and broadcast are ready when I tell you. I want everything to go off without a hitch.”

“Affirmative!” Gamer and Robostus responded in equal robotic unison.

“Reflekta! Princess Fragrance! After all of the copies pick up the stragglers, I want you scanning the area for Ladybug and Chat noir. Bubbler and Lady Wifi… wait. I think I remember something.”

She paused to check her charm, she noticed the question mark charm and touched it, allowing her to focus and see what akuma it was.

“Cancel that order, remain on standby unless we get approached.”

“Yes… so this is what that voice meant by merging. How very interesting. I think I will let that new akuma keep its directive. Ladybug and Chat noir will have no chance of beating...”

An akuma merged with Lady Wifi, Bubbler and Oblivio. Combined to make something new. Something that she knew even the heroes would have trouble fighting.

“Deadzone.” Masquerade said with a devilish grin.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way down the hall. They easily dealt with a few Reflekta clones without much effort and continued moving.

They were expecting to see more akuma lurking about, but strangely, the halls they were walking down were all either empty or only covered by Reflekta duplicates.

“Masquerade likely has her stronger forces consolidating after bringing in as many people to her as they could. Those that didn’t hit the mark likely got turned into the copies we bumped into.” Ladybug answered.

“That does explain why they were singing, like when Princess Fragrance made servants,” the cat hero added.

“This might be our only time to catch a break before confronting her.”

“So, since we have time, do you mind if I ask if you're free to go on Patrol tonight?” the cat hero casually inquired.

Ladybug stopped.

“Tonight? That is quite sudden. Plus, we still don’t know how this will play out.” Ladybug gestured to the school.

“Well I am going to assume we stop the akuma and save the day like always.” Chat noir commented. “Call it a safe bet, but we usually win.”

“Always the positive outlook, Chaton. I’m glad you have so much faith in us despite our numbers disadvantage.”

“You said it yourself, most of the servants are pushovers or just puppets. The only real threat is Lila. And we have faced worse."

“True, but not anything this sinister,” Ladybug tacked on.

“Didn’t we fight Hawkmoth a couple of months back?” Chat noir asked with a twinge of confusion. Was Ladybug implying what he thought she was?

Ladybug held her tongue.

“You’re kidding right? You think Lila is eviler than Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir exclaimed in shock.

“No no no! Not eviler … just a bit cleverer than him,” Ladybug confessed.

Chat noir looked at his partner skeptically, but then considered her words.

“She is manipulative. Considering even without being akumatized she has done some rather twisted stuff. But thinking she is evil is a bit much. Especially when there is someone responsible for forcing emotionally vulnerable people to do his bidding,” Chat noir pointed out.

“Isn’t that what she is doing right now?”

“Yes, but she was akumatized. If we started blaming people for their actions as akuma we would have to throw innocent people in jail.”

“Right… but you read that article on the Ladyblog right? She could be more than just a victim of Hawkmoth, she could be an ally.”

The Cat hero thought about it more but was still not entirely convinced.

“I guess underestimating her would be dumb, but maybe she isn’t completely evil. I mean Chloé ended up showing a bit of humanity and did some good, maybe Lila is capable of it too.”

The crimson clad heroine smiled a bit.

“That’s what I like about you, Chat, you always focus on the good in others.”

The black clad hero gave a Cheshire grin.

“When it comes to the team, you’re the brains, and I’m the sidekick who brings the smiles and the heartfelt speeches.”

“You aren’t my sidekick, Chat Noir, we are partners. And you could be the brains too, if you would use yours outside of pun making.” Ladybug playfully bonked his noggin.

The cat chuckled at the playful teasing.

“Fair enough, but I can’t help it if I FELINE making a quip.”

Ladybug could feel herself groan at the lame joke.

“I take it back… you are the sidekick,” Ladybug deadpanned, her tone of mock annoyance causing the cat to chuckle.

“Alright I’ll…” He stopped speaking as he noticed something was amiss.

Chat Noir’s left ear twitched. He heard approaching footsteps.

“We better get moving, this abandoned hallway isn’t going to be so abandoned in a minute.”

“More Reflekta clones?”

Chat Noir extended the staff to the ground, his face showing a sudden sternness.

“No… Winter is coming.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Viperion peered through the door of the locker room.

“Clear.”

The snake and dragon heroes entered with their akuma prisoner.

“Pick a locker and let’s toss her in,” Ryuuko commented as she held the squirming akuma.

The two paused their movement when they heard a rustling in the lockers.

“Do you hear that?” Viperion questioned.

“How could I not?” Ryuuko replied.

Just as the two stared at the rustling lockers. The two shaking lockers doors flew off their hinges.

And stepped out an akuma that neither hero recognized.

“I don’t remember seeing that akuma before,” Ryuuko stated.

“Neither do I, but it seems vaguely familiar,”  Viperion responded.

As the Akuma was gathering its bearings, the heroes tried to gauge its powers. It had broad shoulders that had spherical, dark purple balls around them, which were connected to tight black sleeves with 3 white circular stripes at the end that ended at his wrists. Its left hand had a fingerless black glove which showed its skin akin to a purple silhouette. The other hand was what appeared to be a black laser canon with a phone attached to it. On its back was a large red, purple and black pipe which seemed to act as a holster to a blue bubble wand.  Its face was obscured by a large white theater mask much like all the other akuma. But there was the impression that it had distinct features. Its chest had a rounded purple bubble on the top half of its body akin to round armor and it had a logo that appeared to be a WiFi signal within an eye in a cage. The lower half appeared more akin to a skintight jumpsuit that was black with white stripes at the feet.

The akuma turned its attention to the two heroes.

“So umm… what are you doing in the locker room?”

“Merge complete, Deadzone is active. Mission objective, Capture Ladybug and Chat Noir,” The akuma answered in a robotic tone less as a response to the question and more as a statement, their voice sounded like the mix of two people.

“Well, Deadzone, we can’t let you do that!”  Ryuuko exclaimed as she glared at the akuma.

The akuma pointed its blaster at her.

“Your opinion on that really doesn’t have an impact on us.”

Deadzone’s left hand touched the phone on their blaster, and a purple bubble with a pause insignia shot out. Ryuuko and Viperion both jumped back as the bubble had direct contact with their akuma prisoner, causing her to be motionless as the bubble turned green and floated to the roof of the room.

“Okay, so don’t touch the bubbles,” Viperion noted.

“Positive side, we don’t need to worry about that one akuma,” Ryuuko commented.

Viperion and Ryuuko knew this akuma would be trouble if it got to Ladybug and Chat noir. They were going to need to find a way to stop it.

______________________________________________________________________

Fu had been observing the spoiled Mayor’s daughter after her confrontation with the Reflekta replicas. Using it as a means to help him find Ladybug and Chat Noir. He was aware that this girl had a knack for getting into trouble and making akuma target her, so it would not be too far off to assume she would be useful in locating his chosen. He would have called her, but communication was down, so he would need to adapt. But now he had a rather interesting quandary.

“Should I lend her the miraculous or not?” Fu spoke quietly as he pondered.

It was a tougher question he had initially thought. If he was asked if she was worthy of being a miraculous user, the answer would undoubtedly be negative. She was clearly a spoiled brat who saw herself above others. But after the events when the bee miraculous temporarily fell into her hands, he had started observing her. He did this with all of the chosen ones that Marinette had picked. Not because he didn’t trust his student, but more out of curiosity of why Marinette picked these individuals.

With the one she picked for the fox miraculous, Fu could see that the girl valued justice, but was cunning and saw the importance of distinguishing truth from illusion, an ideal pick for the fox miraculous. As for the Turtle miraculous wielder, Wayzz spoke highly of Nino, which really made him curious about the young lad. That boy showed a willingness to protect those close to him even if it meant getting hurt, and the calm to be ready to wait and roll with things. The miraculous of protection required someone that can keep a cool head and be ready to defend at the drop of a hat.

The other temporary heroes matched pretty well with the traits of the Kwami and were all good people deep down. Fu had no doubts that Marinette had the instincts of a guardian. The only one that brought doubt was Chloé. After the incident where she found the miraculous and got akumatized, Chloé was trusted with the bee miraculous 3 times. And her record had been mixed but overall she was decent when she fell in line and worked with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette mentioned that she didn’t want to trust Chloé with the miraculous after the last time. But has admitted to Fu that if needed she was a decent Bee heroine.

But if he was wrong and she decided to use this chance to stay being a miraculous wielder, he would have to deal with her as a rogue. Though, considering the circumstances, that would honestly not be the worst situation, as her identity was public and Ladybug and Chat Noir would deal with her like before.

“Wayzz, what do you think?”

His kwami companion popped out of his shirt pocket.

“This is quite a dilemma, Master. The situation is dire, but putting the miraculous in the wrong hands would also make things worse. Perhaps Pollen would be able to give better insight.”

“Very true, my friend.” Fu patted the kwami.

Fu cautiously went into the cleaning cart and pulled out the Bee Miraculous. The bee kwami popped out.

“Good morning, Master,” Pollen greeted the guardian with respect.

“Good afternoon, Pollen. We have a situation and I would like to know your opinion.”

“Very well, I am happy to serve,” The bee kwami replied.

“What do you think of Chloé Bourgeois? The one that used your miraculous recently.”

The kwami put her little hand to her face as she compiled her thoughts.

“She is complicated, Master. She didn’t talk to me much but I kind of got to feel a lot about who she was as a person. She is brash, she is confident, yet she is insecure. She is blunt, stubborn, and set in her ways. But I can tell that she is at a crossroads in her life. There is some small part of her that wants to be good and do good for others outside of herself, but her upbringing has made such a mindset seem like weakness, and she is scared of letting herself be vulnerable. Ladybug has been a good influence on her, but she is still immature in several aspects. She has the potential to be a good queen. If she could break through that self-imposed selfish mentality, she could be something extraordinary,” Pollen explained, finally.

“I see, well that is quite informative. Thank you,” Fu responded, nodding thoughtfully.

He put the Bee Miraculous back in a tiny box, causing her to go dormant.

“So, she is at a crossroad.”  Fu repeated as he stroked his chin

He turned his attention back to Chloé, who had continued walking towards another dead end. When he caught the eye of approaching Reflekta clones. And with that, Fu figured out a way to know.

“I think I just found a way to know the correct answer.”

______________________________________________________________________

“I swear this place is a maze.” Mayura grumbled to herself as she walked the halls.

She noticed her fan shake, notifying her of someone calling. It was Hawkmoth

“Yes?”

“Mayura what are you doing?! You were supposed to find the target and get out!” Hawkmoth exclaimed angrily. “And why did you transform? You knowutilizing the Peacock Miraculous is dangerous.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was somewhat touched by the concern in his voice. Unfortunately, she did not have time to dwell on that so she was going to ignore it, as she had a task at hand

“Some unforeseen circumstances have caused some rather unfortunate delays. I am going to locate the sentimonster and gather information regarding the target. Afterwards, I will assist in getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.” Mayura responded.

As she was speaking, an akuma with black wings flew into view along with an akuma riding a paper airplane.

“Seems the akuma servants have located me.”

She notices the akuma began preparing to attack her. They were practically mindless puppets that saw anyone who wasn’t their master as an enemy. This was quite an oversight, but it fit with the motif of the akuma villain. She felt the emotions of that girl, she knew exactly the type of insecurities Lila held. Thankfully for her, it meant they could easily be exploited.

“Get out of there this instant it is too dangerous. You are in no shape to…”

The akumas aimed at the unidentified villainess and fired off paper airplanes and arrows.

“We will discuss this later.” Mayura hung up before turning her attention to the two servants of Masquerade.

Mayura dashed through the hall, expertly avoiding projectiles and blocking with her fan those she couldn’t dodge. She jumped onto Reverser’s glider, grabbed the akuma and threw him at the flying Dark Cupid, leaving the two dazed and tangled together.

“I’m weakened, not helpless,” Mayura commented as she dusted herself off and hopped off the floating paper airplane.

She noticed that the two akuma that attacked her were slow in getting up.

‘Seems the akuma created by Masquerade aren’t just mindless, they are also rather slow in reacting. Ladybug and Chat Noir can exploit that. I suppose with the number of servants she made, this was to be expected. I should locate Simularé and get some details on our akuma’s little plan. I should step in and seize control if she gets too distracted like the last one. Gabriel has always been far too cautious when it comes to his plans, it’s time we were more active.’ Mayura mentally concluded.

She closed her eyes and focused on locating the sentimonster.

“She is on the roof. Odd placement for her most powerful ally, but I suppose there must be some sort of logical reason for what she is planning,” Mayura rationalized.

The peacock themed villainess noticed that the akuma that attacked her were starting to move again, and she decided to pick up her pace a bit.

______________________________________________________________________________

“This is super ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed with anger. “Not a single exit in this place! Why is every exit coated in icky slime?”

She checked her phone.

“And still no signal.”

She ended up chucking her phone out of frustration.

“I wish Ladybug would just get here and beat the akuma, or better yet, come here and give me the bee miraculous so I can help kick butt,” she grumbled as she went to go see where she threw her phone. She'd remembered she actually liked the case she just bought for it and losing that would be a waste.

“H-help me please!” The wails of a person in danger caught Chloé’s attention.

“That sounds like a non-me issue,” the blonde told herself. As she continued walking to her phone.

“If only there was someone here to save me!” the voice called out again.

Chloé stopped moving for a moment.

“Well I am not a hero without the Bee, so I guess he better hope Ladybug and Chat Noir are nearby, or maybe those other two costumed nobodies that I saw earlier,” she said, clearly trying to convince herself not to do anything.

“Please! Ladybug! Chat Noir…. “

"The heroes will handle it." Chloé reasoned with herself as she picked up her phone. Now getting ready to go somewhere else and likely away from the screaming.

“ And a…Queen Bee.”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Did someone call out for… Queen Bee?!

Chloé started dashing down the halls to the sound of the voice.

“Did someone call for a hero!” Chloé called out, looking confident.

She arrived to see an old man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt being cornered by 3 Reflekta copies. The akuma copies turn to Chloé.

“Surrender,” they sing-songed as they began to approach.

Chloé ran right at them, and proceeded to push them into each other, and let the impractical heels make it hard for them to get back up.

She rushed to the old man.

“Don’t worry, old man with good taste in heroes and nothing else. I, Queen Bee, am here to save you,” Chloé blustered.

“Thank you.” Fu said with a forced smile. She clearly only came when he mentioned her name. But she did show up. In hindsight, maybe his test was not as conclusive as he thought. But then again, he actually planned those out more.

Chloé looked around.

“Alright old man, normally I would have just left you to get saved by Ladybug, but you have good taste in heroes, so I am going to help you out. We need to move before those creepy akumas get back up. So follow me, I know a place you can hide out.” Her tone tried to come off as abrasive, but it did show an inkling of care.

Chloé began moving away from the cluster of Reflektas. The old man shrugged and followed behind. He supposed that this would be another good test for her. Maybe he will get a more definitive answer by keeping an eye on her. And if worse comes to worse, he had a feeling she would make a good distraction should he need to escape a band of akuma.

______________________________________________________________________

“Did you just make a...”

Ladybug was able to pick up on the sound of harsh wind heading their way and decided her scolding of lame references could wait for later. She grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him into the nearby science lab.

She quickly closed the door just as a cold front blasted right past them. The window on the door was covered in ice.

“Stormy Weather?”

“Stormy Weather.”

The two both look at each other with a bit of worry. The storm akuma was one of their more powerful foes, and with complete control of the weather in such a tight space, things were going to get tough.

“Any ideas?”

Ladybug weighed her options. Would now be the time to use her lucky charm? or should she save it for when they are in front of Masquerade? It was starting to get harder to make that call.

“We can’t have her roaming the halls, we will need to incapacitate her. So I say have your ice power up ready, and be ready to swap power ups at the drop of a hat. Stormy Weather may be tough, but we still have tricks up our sleeve.”

Chat Noir nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both popped their Ice blue power ups and shift into their Ice forms. The two watched as the other’s suit gained ice skates, ice crystal and snowflake accents, becoming Ladyice and Icecat.

(AN: Yes, according to the Wiki, that’s what they are calling them. Personally, I would have called them Ladyfrost and Cold noir/ Cool Cat but that’s just me. This isn’t relevant to the story, I just wanted you all to know that.)

“You know, Ladybug, you really give off the ice skater vibe. Would you say you have experience ice skating outside of this form?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug felt her mind flash to her date with Adrien and her cheeks turned red.

“I- I may have some experience. And how about you, Kitty?” she deflected.

“Well, now that you mention it, I…”

They heard a loud bang on the door, cracking the ice that covered the window to reveal the white theater mask that Stormy Weather had covering her face.

“I’m gonna give it to her, she really knows how to break the Ice,” Chat Noir joked.

“Chaton, cool it with all of the ice puns,” she stated.

“Wait, was that a pun? My Lady I... OH SHI…”

A large ice stalactite burst through the door interrupting their banter and almost skewering them.

Chat Noir was about to say something when Ladybug cut in.

“Chat Noir, you are my partner and I respect you greatly. But so help me, if you say we should put this conversation on ‘Freeze’, I will not save you if you get impaled.” Ladybug stated.

Chat Noir paused.

“You know me so well,” he said with a smile.

The two watched as Stormy Weather entered the room through the stalactite hole.

______________________________________________________________________

“Hey Viperion?”

“Yea Ryuuko?”

“We both agree that we need to stop that crazy akuma right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why are you carrying me away from it!?” Ryuuko exclaimed.

Viperion had picked up the dragon heroine fireman style in order to pull her away from the pursuing akuma.

“Do you want the reasons in alphabetical order?” the snake hero sassed.

“We can take it,” Ryuuko asserted. “We can’t retreat! There is no honor in it!”

“Well considering neither of our weapons can touch them, the concept of honor has flown out the window. Not to mention, I seriously doubt that we can take them on without a plan, and don’t say ‘try to hit them harder’ is a plan. It isn’t.”

Viperion had a smug look as he noticed Ryuuko look away.

“You’re right, but I'm mad about it,” the dragon heroine huffed.

“I can live with that.”

Viperion took a sharp left and noticed a dozen Reflekta duplicates.

“Juleka?”

“Come with us,” the clones sang.

“I’m going to assume they aren’t her,” Ryuuko said as she got off Viperion’s shoulders.

She punched his arm.

“Ow.”

“Your shoulder was bumpy.”

Ryuuko drew her weapon and dashed past the group of Reflekta clones. After a second, she holstered her weapon and all of the clones dropped to the floor groaning.

“Wow.” Viperion was impressed. He had to admit that it was super cool.

“Don’t worry, I used the flat end of the sword. They will be fine, and hopefully they will slow down the akuma.”

The two continued running, but glanced back as Deadzone arrived. He looked at the clones getting up and blasted each one into a green bubble in which they remained motionless and floated to the ceiling of the hall.

“It can’t distinguish between friend or foe,” Viperion commented.

“What?”

Viperion turned to his comrade.

“I think I just got an idea.”

__________________________________________________________________________

“This way,” the bossy blond teen motioned.

Fu pushed his janitor cart as they moved in the hallway.

“Do you really need to move that hideous thing with us?” Chloé questioned with clear aggravation.

“It's very important,” Fu responded.

“Ugh, whatever. Just move faster, then.”

Fu nodded and picked up the pace.

The mayor’s daughter led them down the hall and they had managed to avoid attracting attention.

“Okay, we are here.”

Fu looked at the door and realized that it was the nurse’s office.

“Hopefully the nurse didn’t get herself captured while I was gone.”

Chloé went to open the door and noticed it was locked.

“What the…”

“Let me try.” Fu interjected.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

He pulls out a jingling set of keys. Chloé shrugged as she turned around to keep watch.

Fu let his kwami companion out to open the door. Wayzz quickly undid the lock and opened the door before sliding back out of view.

“All done,” Fu said.

Chloé turned around as Fu opened the door.

The two quickly ran inside and locked the door behind them.

“Nurse Arugula!” Chloé called out. “I have a guest for you!”

“Arugala?”

“It was something with an A.” Chloé commented.

The two waited a few seconds, but there was no response.

They moved deeper into the office.

“Are you here?” Chloé questioned.

They flicked on the light switch to see the nurse in the cot.

“Oh, that’s great, I leave to go get help and be a hero and she goes off napping!” Chloé fumed.

Fu moved to the nurse and noticed she had a bruise on her neck, indicating that she was clearly forced into this state. He jabbed a pressure point and the nurse jolted awake.

“HUAGH!”

She nearly fell out of the cot.

“Glad you can join us from your nap,” Chloé hissed.

“Chloé? Did you call for help?” The nurse inquired as she gathered her bearings.

“No, the school is a total dead zone, and I couldn’t find a way out because they are all blocked by slime. Side note, I found this old guy.”

The nurse turned to the old man.

“Hello. I’m Angela.” She politely introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you. I am… Fung,” Fu lied. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Nice to meet you Fung, despite the circumstances,” she tried to make light of the situation.

“Every meeting can have a positive circumstance if one is looking for it.”

The calm in the air died when Angela realized that someone was missing.

“Oh no! The women you left in my care! She knocked me out and stormed out of here.” Angela exclaimed.

“Welp, she is probably captured,” Chloé shrugged.

“We have to find her, she has some sort of strange illness. Leaving her out there might be dangerous, akuma or not.”

Angela prepared to move to the door but was stopped by Chloé.

“Oh no you don’t! I brought this old man here for safety. You stay here with him.”

“But my patient!”

The woman was clearly shaking, but she was determined, she wanted to help her patient even if it meant going into danger. But much to Fu’s surprise, Chloé stepped up.

“I will bring your patient back. Mostly because being stuck in here seems much worse than dealing with a bunch of dumb akuma.”

Angela hugged Chloé.

“Thank you.”

Chloé tried to look annoyed, but a ghost of a smile appeared on the mayor’s daughter’s face. She accepted the hug for a moment.

Fu took notice. He had made his decision.

“Alright, enough touching! You deal with sick people all day. I don’t want germs,” Chloé stated as she tried to give off her usual air.

“That is very brave of you, young one.” Fu spoke.

“Pff, this is nothing. It’s what heroes do.”

As Chloé began making her way out of the nurse’s office, Fu quietly slipped the tiny miracle box into her bag.

‘I hope this was worth the risk.’

_____________________________________________________________

(END OF CHAPTER)

Well things are really heating up.

Will Ladyice and Icenoir be able to deal with stormy weather? Will Deadzone be the dead end for Ryuuko and Viperion? What is Masquerade's villainous plan? Will I update faster than every 40 or so days?

Let me know your thoughts and if you did enjoy the story.

REBLOG it and comment. Likes are nice but they don't really help content creators like they should.

[osakaso5]

IDOLiSH7 6th Anniversary Special Story: Full of Heart...

Chapter 6: Wishing

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Sogo Osaka: Tsunashi-san, thank you for bringing us to this limited edition Rabitty-kun shop.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: It's no trouble at all, really! I never got to play with a Rabitty-kun, myself.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I was planning to come check this place out for the show anyway, so I'm glad you two could tag along.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Thanks for sending us the photo from when you were little, too! Me and So-chan were super hyped about it!

Sogo Osaka: Tamaki-kun..!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ahaha! It's a little embarrassing, considering what a country bumpkin I must've looked like.

Tamaki Yotsuba: You looked cute standing on the beach, almost like a girl.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Huh..!? Nobody's ever told me that before! I've always been tall for my age...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Okay, maybe not like a girl, but your arms and body were all skinny and stuff. What do you call that again? Slendy...

Sogo Osaka: Slender.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yeah, that. You had the same face, but you weren't all buff.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Oh, okay! I didn't know that's how I looked... What did you think, Sogo-kun?

Sogo Osaka: Um... How should I put this...

Sogo Osaka: It... It was more than I could bear.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: .........

Tamaki Yotsuba: So-chan, you sound like a creepy old man!

Sogo Osaka: No, I didn't mean it in a weird way! I've juat never had a taste of such a different type of Tsunashi-san..!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Taste...

Sogo Osaka: Uh... Maybe "taste" isn't the right word for it, but it was very satisfying to see..!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Satisfying...

Tamaki Yotsuba: So-chan, you gotta stop it with the big explanations and be more casual! Call it cute, or nice, or something!

Sogo Osaka: Nice! It was nice! Very nice!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ahaha! Thank you!

TV on Shop Window: ...The secret to Rabitty-kun's birth!

TV on Shop Window: Who would've thought our famous mascot had such a story behind him!?

TV on Shop Window: Look forward to our 6th Anniversary Rabitty-kun! Toi toi toi~♪

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ah, here it is.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Wow! They've got Rabitty-kuns in all kinds of colors! I wanna go touch them!

Sogo Osaka: Tamaki-kun, you must ask the clerks for permission first...

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: It looks like these are samples. Go ahead and touch them.

Tamaki Yotsuba: I'll go with this one first...

Red Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Hold me!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Whoa! It's so cute!

Orange Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Pet me! 

Hot Pink Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Yawn...  Let’s go to bed! 

Sogo Osaka: You're right... They're really cute.

Grey Rabitty: Ooh ooh! Tyt ty tyt ty ty ♪

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ah, this one seems to be singing something!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Wow! Where do you push to make it sing? Is it here?

Turquoise Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! That tickles!

Sogo Osaka: Maybe it's here?

Yellow Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Dum dum dum dee dum ♪

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ah, it danced! So-chan, let go of it! It's trying to dance!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I'll make this one dance with it!

Dark Red Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Chaka chaka chan chan ♪

Tamaki Yotsuba: Awesome! This is so much fun!

Sogo Osaka: They're so energetic.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I think you're supposed to feed these carrots to them? Go on, Tamaki-kun, give it a try.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Okay! I'm gonna give one to this guy...

Green Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Nom... nom... nom... Yummy~!

Tamaki Yotsuba: It ate! What about this one?

Rosy Brown Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Chomp, chomp, chomp! I want more!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ahaha! This one eats a lot!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Hmm..? Look, they have a guide to exchanging defective toys.

Sogo Osaka: There were malfunctioning toys mixed in with the ones they released a few years ago. It says they'll exchange those for working ones, free of charge...

Sogo Osaka: Maybe these samples are the defective toys... But how exactly are they malfunctioning..?

Navy Rabitty: Ooh... ooh... Help.. me...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Holy crap!!! Why's this one so creepy..!?

Pink Rabitty: Oh, ooh... Don't... leave me...

Ivory Rabitty: Oh, ooh... You... saw..?

Pale Green Rabitty: Oh, ooh... Ehehehe... Eehehehehe...

Sogo Osaka: These ones are definitely defective..!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: They're awful..! Why would anyone make them like this..? The poor kids who had these must've been terrified...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yeah, seriously! If I had to sleep with one of these, my mattress would be all soggy the next morning!  

Sogo Osaka: You'd wet the bed?

Tamaki Yotsuba: So what if I would!? And I don't mean right now, I mean if I was still little!

Sogo Osaka: If you were little, then it's not something you could control much, anyway...

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ah, why don't we take a break from these Rabitty-kuns, and go look at those ones instead?

Tamaki Yotsuba: What..? "Face three Rabitty-kuns against each other, and they'll go into gossipy teenage girl mode".

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: "Gossipy teenage girl mode"..?

Lavender Rabitty: Oh. Em. Gee. I think my nail just broke.

Light Blue Rabitty: It's gonna be 36 degrees today. Lame af.

Ocean Blue Rabitty: I'm like, low key freaking out about this test tho.

Sogo Osaka: ......... I guess they don't do the "ooh, ooh" thing in this mode.

Tamaki Yotsuba: So-chan, they've got an "office workers in an elevator" mode, too.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Apparently they have a Showa-era small talk version as an extra rare option, too.

Sogo Osaka: Do children really play with modes like this..?

[Phone rings]

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yukirin's calling me... Hello!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Huh? Seriously!? You guys found the uncle who took my picture already!?

Sogo Osaka: What!?

Tamaki Yotsuba: I knew that legendary detective could help..! Okay! Thanks!!!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Guess what! They said they found the guy!

Sogo Osaka: That's great, Tamaki-kun!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: What business did you have with a legendary detective?

Tamaki Yotsuba: I need a photo from when I was little, so I was looking for this uncle who took a family portrait of us.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Oh, I see...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Awesome! Now I get to show off my picture, too!

Sogo Osaka: I'm happy for you.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Let's take another picture you can show off. I want one of the face you're making right now.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Right now?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Yeah. Your smile is so nice, I want us to have something to remember it by. Come on.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ehehe... This is a little embarrassing, but I'm still super happy! Thanks, Ryu-aniki!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Thank you, too!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ah... So-chan, wanna be in the pic?

Sogo Osaka: Me?

Tamaki Yotsuba: You found your photo, too. We can both show Ryu-aniki how proud we are. Right, Ryu-aniki?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Of course! I'd love for you to be in the picture too, Sogo-kun.

Sogo Osaka: A-alright.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Hurry up!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Stand next to each other. Laugh on three. One, two, three...

MEZZO": Ahahaha!

[Snap]

- - - -

Sogo Osaka: I'm glad your family photo will be found soon.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Me too.

Sogo Osaka: I'm sure Aya-chan would be happy about it.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yeah. I'm glad you'll get you and your uncle's photo, too.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Is it gonna make it to the show, though?

Sogo Osaka: It will. I'm flying to pick it up at our nearest yacht harbor tonight.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Tonight? You gonna be okay?

Sogo Osaka: I'll be fine. I have tomorrow off, anyway.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Apparently my pic's coming in the mail. Ah...

[Rainfall]

Tamaki Yotsuba: It's raining.

Sogo Osaka: ...Not to mention the wind is really strong all of a sudden.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Can your plane leave in this weather?

Sogo Osaka: I... I think so. But I should hurry to the airport, and you need to get back to the dorm...

[Thunder]

MEZZO": Ah...

MEZZO": ...A blackout..?

- - - - 

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I'm home. And completely soaked.

Kaoru Anesagi: Here's a towel. Take off your socks, shirt, and pants. There's a hot bath waiting for you.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: You're here too, Anesagi-san?

Gaku Yaotome: There was a power outage until just a minute ago.  Apparently some parts of Tokyo are still dark.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: What!? That sounds bad.

Gaku Yaotome: It's not the only bad thing here. Your bath's a little too hot...

Tenn Kujo: Hot as in, practically boiling. Want to go take a dip?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Thanks.

Tenn Kujo: What is that?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ah... They're gifts for you and Gaku. I thought the Rabitty-kuns were too cute not to buy any.

Gaku Yaotome: Ahaha! Fair enough!

Tenn Kujo: I'm getting all nostalgic.

Ocean Blue Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Hold me!

Kaoru Anesagi: Gosh, how adorable. I'll take care of you, little one. Come here.

Ocean Blue Rabitty: Ooh, ooh! Rat tat rat tat ♪

Kaoru Anesagi: Heh, it's singing.

Kaoru Anesagi: Hey. Does any one of you know why Rabitty-kun says "ooh, ooh"?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I don't Is there some bigger reason for it?

Kaoru Anesagi: Apparently it's based on a child's imitation of a famous sweets mascot.

Kaoru Anesagi: Which one was it, again? The one with a crown, a closed mouth, and an overall neutral expression...

Tenn Kujo: A crown..? Doesn't ring a bell.

Kaoru Anesagi: It's right on the tip of my tongue, I swear. It's still around, too, and you see it everywhere. It's also got a ribbon, I think...

Gaku Yaotome: Mascots with ribbons are a dime a dozen.

Kaoru Anesagi: Sometimes flames come out of its back, and it punches things. Sometimes it gets so emotional, it starts spinning fast. Ugh. I can picture it in my mind, but I just can't remember the name.

Kaoru Anesagi: In any case, it's something that originates from before the CEO of Toi Toi Toi was making the kind of profit he is today.

Kaoru Anesagi: He tried to turn his parents' business into a toy shop, but he just couldn't make it succeed.

Kaoru Anesagi: Apparently that's when he saw one of the neighborhood kids mimic the mascot I was talking about.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: And that kid was the basis for Rabitty-kun?

Kaoru Anesagi: Yep.

Kaoru Anesagi: Apparently the kid said something along the lines of "His mouth is closed, so he probably talks like, 'ooh, ooh'!"

Kaoru Anesagi: Then the kid would start dancing while singing "ooh, ooh", and that was the blueprint for Rabitty-kun.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Wow..! I think it's really nice that Rabitty-kun was technically born out of a child's idea.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I'm sure the CEO must really like kids, too.

Kaoru Anesagi: From what I heard, he's had a rough life. He was separated from his sibling, and when they reunited, he had to fight the reason for their separation...

Gaku Yaotome: Fight..? I can't even imagine what that might entail.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Everyone has something going on.

Tenn Kujo: How did he and his sibling reunite?

Kaoru Anesagi: Their parents were photographers, and they both just so happened to have a photo that proved their relation.

Gaku Yaotome: Maybe they kept each other's faces in a locket or something.

Tenn Kujo: There's no way it'd be something that cliché.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Still, I'm sure they were happy to see each other again.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Those two should be happily walking home right about now, too.  

- - - -

Tamaki Yotsuba: So-chan, wait up!

Sogo Osaka: I need to hurry to the airport. If the weather gets any worse than this, all flights might be cancelled.

Tamaki Yotsuba: There's a blackout, and you're soaking wet! What if you can't get home, and you catch a cold!?

Sogo Osaka: You can go home if you want...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Why are you always like this!? I swear, you haven't changed at all!

Sogo Osaka: .........

Tamaki Yotsuba: You seriously can't even ask me to come with you!? Grow a backbone already!

Sogo Osaka: ......... That's not why.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Then what is it!?

Sogo Osaka: It's not that I'm afraid of causing you trouble. I want to prove something to you.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Prove what..?

Sogo Osaka: We may not have had the best lives, but we haven't done much bad, either.

Sogo Osaka: So... This isn't a punishment. 

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...So-chan...

Sogo Osaka: I'll go, Tamaki-kun. And once I'm back, I'll show off my picture, and you'll get to see what my uncle looked like.

Sogo Osaka: I'm... I'm going to treat this as an adventure. And I'm going to ward off any disasters.

Sogo Osaka: Because I learned that from you.

Tamaki Yotsuba: ......... But...

[Toot toot!]

Tamaki Yotsuba: .......!? Someone got out of that car...

Mysterious Man: .........

Sogo Osaka: A masked man..!?

Tamaki Yotsuba: W-what do you want!? Stay away..! Ah..!

Sogo Osaka: Tamaki-kun..! ...Don't you dare do anything to him..!

Mysterious Man: ........!

Sogo Osaka: .........!? You're...

[Tap tap tap]

Sogo Osaka: Ah..! Wait, please..!

Tamaki Yotsuba: So-chan!

[Wroom...]

Sogo Osaka: ...Are you alright, Tamaki-kun!?

Tamaki Yotsuba: That guy gave me this.

Sogo Osaka: A parcel... Did you see how he looked when he gave you this?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Dunno. He was wearing a mask and sunglasses, so I didn't really see anything.

Sogo Osaka: I see...

Tamaki Yotsuba: But, for some reason... I kinda didn't get a bad vibe from him.

Sogo Osaka: ......... Neither did I. He felt familiar, somehow...

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...What do you think this is?

Sogo Osaka: I don't know... Let's open it.

Tamaki Yotsuba: What if it's a bomb?

Sogo Osaka: ...I hear no ticking, but we should still be careful. Hand it over, I'll open it.

Sogo Osaka: There's no people around, probably due to the rain. You should stand back, too...

Tamaki Yotsuba: ........

Sogo Osaka: ...Or don't.

Tamaki Yotsuba: You sure?

Sogo Osaka: Yeah. We'll open it together. I'm sure we'll be fine, because of the rain.

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...You sure it won't explode?

Sogo Osaka: It probably won't... In this kind of rain, any spark should  fizzle out instantly. Though we can't be 100% sure.

Sogo Osaka: Besides, you're a good kid. If there's a higher power, then I'm sure the'd want to reward you, not punish you.

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...I don't wanna have nay more regrets. Are you sure this isn't stupid?

Sogo Osaka: I don't want any regrets, either. Which is why I refuse to act like a coward.

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...Fine. Let's open it, So-chan.

Sogo Osaka: Yeah... Here I go.

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...Maybe there's a fuse hidden in the paper..?

Sogo Osaka: ...This is oil paper, so it doesn't get wet in the rain... Ah...

Tamaki Yotsuba: It doesn't look like a bomb... What's that rectangular thing?

Sogo Osaka: ...It's a photo, and a card...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Card? What's it say?

Sogo Osaka: "Dear customer. Here are the pictures you ordered."

Sogo Osaka: "I can't thank you enough for the help you once gave my brother, so I've included your friend's photo, as well."

Tamaki Yotsuba: Wait... Could it be..?

MEZZO": The legendary detective..!?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Is that how the guy knew where we were!? He wasn't a shady guy, he was a private eye!

Tamaki Yotsuba: But what does his brother have to do with me? And I dunno who the friend he's talking about is, either...

Sogo Osaka: ...Tamaki-kun, look...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Huh..?

Sogo Osaka: My uncle... This is the picture of my uncle and I. Look, here he is.

Tamaki Yotsuba: And a mini So-chan...

Sogo Osaka: ...Uncle... It's because I had him that I'm making music now.

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...So-chan... Look at my photo, too.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ta-dah! That's Mom, that's little Aya. And that's me...

Sogo Osaka: It's a tiny Tamaki-kun...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yeah. So what do you think? You can stop staring at your uncle, already.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Hey. Say something.

Sogo Osaka: I think it's a wonderful picture. Your mother looks gentle, beautiful, and...

Sogo Osaka: ...I've finally had the chance to see her...

Tamaki Yotsuba: .........

Sogo Osaka: Tamaki-kun... It must've been so hard for you. But you're fine now.

Sogo Osaka: It's going to be fine...

Tamaki Yotsuba: ...Yeah...

Tamaki Yotsuba: You look like you had a rough time, too... Being in this stuffy place, wearing stuffy clothes. ...But at least you could still smile.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Hey, little guy. Believe it or not, but you're gonna be making music in a couple years. And I'm gonna sing your songs with you.

Tamaki Yotsuba: So, it's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay.

Sogo Osaka: Yeah...

Sogo Osaka: Thank you, Tamaki-kun. 

- - - -

Tsumugi's Thoughts: And that...

Tsumugi's Thoughts: ...Is how all 16 idols got their pictures, safe and sound.

- - - -

Mister Shimooka: Well then, it's about time we got Welcome to Kids' Room started!

Re:vale: OK!

TRIGGER: Alright.

IDOLiSH7: Yaaaay! Let's gooo!

ŹOOĻ: Yeah!

Mister Shimooka: It’s the moment of truth! We'll be taking a look at these idols' childhood pictures!

Mister Shimooka: But before that, it's time for our special guests!

Mister Shimooka: Please welcome the CEO of Toi Toi Toi, Jiro Ito!

Mister Shimooka: As well as the man who gave a loan to Toi Toi Toi when it was on the verge of bankruptcy, Taro Ito!

Sogo Osaka: Huh?

Torao Mido: Hmm?

Mister Shimooka: Let's give both of the  men who made Rabitty-kun what he is an  equally warm welcome!

Mister Shimooka: Here they come!

All: Ooh, ooh!

???: Hello. I'm the CEO of Toi Toi Toi, Jiro Ito.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ah..!

Tamaki Yotsuba: That's the uncle who took our picture..! 

The End.

[yanderart]

He caught you when no one else did; defeated you when no one else could. Whether you liked to admit it or not, Eraserhead had clearly proven his worth.

So why didn't you prove yours, little villain?

Another portrait for my POV yandere series, this time of Aizawa. Got a few people requesting me to draw/write for him so hopefully y'all enjoy it 🖤

Below the cut, as customary for the series, is a longshot one-shot that delves further into the backstory (Aizawa x Villain Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 8k).

TWs: dub-con, graphic smut, Bad Bondage Etiquette, degradation/humiliation, brat (villain) taming, cumplay and slight bimbofication. Scumbag Aizawa is real.

— — —

   The day you met Eraserhead, looking back, saying your worries had been misplaced would be an understatement. With not being apprehended and losing street cred at the very top of your list, it was decidedly easy to skip over any of the other big red-lettered warnings.

   You first felt the tickle in your nape while you carried your acquisitions across downtown Musutafu, accompanied by the familiar presage of someone watching your every movement. The city around you was bustling, as was the norm, as loud and meandering in its complaints as a chronically diseased elder, yet the alleys you took as shortcuts grew quieter and quieter with each step. 

   It was eerie, alarming, and a platitude of other adjectives you shamefully chose to neglect. 

   “So this is the great V/N in the flesh,” the lazy cadence of someone calling out your alias froze you mid-step, the way his owner dragged each syllable telling you he hadn’t yet decided whether you were worth wasting his breath on. 

   Your body was responding before you even had a chance to properly process the threat, running on instinct and muscle memory as you twirled to face the mysterious man and prepared to...

   “Cute dress, kid.” Eraserhead in the flesh stood barely a few feet away, glowing scarlet orbs illuminating his preternaturally blank expression and transforming it instead into a visage of pure intimidation. “Didn’t pitch you for the frilly type.”

   The growing panic in your chest put a hitch in your breath as you stared back. Yet you couldn’t help but still try, fruitlessly hoping—hands clenched, nails puncturing your own flesh as you tried to force your dormant quirk awake. And all for naught, considering your efforts were only repaid by the hatchet of your sinking realization being buried even deeper. 

   Although, the Pro-Hero also appeared to notice your meager attempts, taking a few steps closer to your form with a condescending gleam in his otherwise somber features. 

   Before you were conscious of what you were looking at (and before you had half a mind to attempt a quirkless attack on the hero), you observed the weapon wrapped around his neck unfolding fluidly, the extensions of fabric reaching out to envelop you in a forceful embrace that left your arms tucked to your sides and your back uncomfortably straightened. 

   “Better to trap you before you get any wild ideas. It’s your fault you’re in this position in the first place anyways,” he was taunting you, prodding you and poking you as you found yourself completely at his mercy, uselessly struggling much in the same way many of your victims had surely felt in their last few moments at your hands. 

   "Eraserhead," his pseudonym resembled an insult on your tongue, your rage and resentment making for rather colorful enhancements. "Don’t you have anything better to do than trapping helpless girls with this weapon of yours? Didn't peg you for a pervert."

   Usually, you managed to reign in some of your nastier attitudes, channeling them into your quirk and the violence you could inflict with it…

   But tied up and under the influence of his own ability as you were? All you had was pettiness. 

   "You can dress up as a civ all you want. Won't be fooling me." He took several steps, closing the distance between you two with barely the hint of a smile morphing his stern expression.  

   You could see the faint stubble on his handsome face from this up close, blood-shot eyes that refused to blink as they studied you in ample detail. Could even see the scar carved onto one of his cheekbones, a textured promise of the fight he had survived and now wore as a medal. 

   Such was your luck, that the Pro to finally catch up with you had to be this rugged scumbag. 

   "I'm not even engaging in any criminal activities, Eraseridiot." Your insult was terrible, but you were never much of a verbal sparrer. Not when you could use your fists instead. "What are you gonna send me to the pigs for? I know my rights."

   And you did. So when the condescension on the lazy hero's face turned into a full-on expression of mockery as he approached your "bag of acquisitions," you audibly gulped. Goddamn stalker couldn't have been following you for that long? Could he? 

    If only you knew. 

   "Then," he held up the bag with an indolent brand of interest, the contents dangling tauntingly from his clutch. "How do you explain this over here? I reckon even dirt like you knows what stealing qualifies as." His other hand dived for the contents and before you could voice any protest, cheeks blushing furiously, a slow hint of a chuckle was bobbing his adam's apple. "It would be a fun thing to peg you down for, though."

   That damned weapon of his didn't give out an inch as you started to furiously struggle, becoming instead impossibly tighter with each futile attempt at freeing yourself.

   "You fucking psycho, is this your sick way of trying to pick me up or something?"

   But your quip did not deter him at all (if anything, it spurred him on). The hand inside the bag tensed for a moment before he was retrieving the sole object inside. To say mortification was written all over your face would be an understatement. 

   A dark pantyhose now hung from Eraserhead's nimble fingers, not a second being wasted by the Hero before he proceeded to bring it up to his face, carelessly stretching the garment until you could see every single one of his features through the sheer material. The way the moonlight caught in it, bouncing off and bathing his patronizing face, made for uncomfortably intimate imagery. 

   (Yet a part of you, one you would never admit existed if further questioned, also could not help but notice the striking attractiveness of it all, making you want to squirm for completely different reasons while the man continued to exert his quirk on you through the fabric of your fucking lingerie.)

   "Gotta say, didn't take you for a pantyhose kind of gal either. Girls like you…" He uttered the last part more like an afterthought, tossing the bag aside before his hands continued toying with the tights absentmindedly. "Are suited for something like fishnets much more."

   By that point, you were sure he was just playing with you. You were such a harmless joke, restrained and showcased like a prize for his viewing pleasure.

   "Reckon you must own quite a few pairs, uh?" He continued egging you on when you failed to give a timely enough answer. 

   (Perhaps the fact that he so easily guessed that detail should’ve been your first real warning, too.)

   Yet you couldn’t help how his condescension and the downright dirty way he stared at you sent dark shivers up your spine, the threat he represented turning strangely alluring under the dim street lights illuminating you both. 

   As a villain, you had robbed, murdered, set people ablaze, and even stolen a popsicle or two from some crying kids. So why were Eraserhead's words having such an effect on you? Why did, a part of you deep down, seemed enthused by the awful way in which he was speaking to you?

   "You don't have any proof I stole them. I just threw away the receipt after I bought them. Very environmentally unconscious of them, too, when electrical ones are a thing."

   Now you were just rambling. What an adorable sight. 

   "Hmm, never thought I'd hear "environmentally unconscious" being uttered by a two-bit criminal." He stopped stretching the lingerie for a moment, thoughtfully scratching at his incipient stubble with his free hand instead, "Are you really trying to sell me the good samaritan angle?"

   To his credit too, he seemed genuinely puzzled by your approach for an instant. Guess even an experienced pro like him still had room to be shocked. 

   "I'm not trying to sell you anything, imbecile." The snobbishly controlled tone of yours was back, the shaking of panic subsiding while you held onto your only hope of leaving this confrontation unscathed. "And my rights clearly state you need proof to apprehend me. Need causality to exert your quirk on me, too, or you would be the one breaking the law." 

   Now, Eraserhead wasn’t annoyed per se. You could tell from what little he had already spoken (and from the myriad of cautionary tales you had been told) that little could rattle the man at all, but your comment definitely appeared to intrigue him. It made you feel like an animal being studied, pinned down, and ready to be dissected for his own morbid curiosity.

   "Isn't this just rich?" His tone was almost lethargic, words dragging on with a faint rumble. "Are you going to run off to the police, then? Tell them how a Pro trapped you and tried turning you in for a very obvious act of theft?", his eyebrows were raised, eyes more awake despite his monotone voice carrying on. "Be my guest then."

   Because of course you were all bark, no bite and he was more than willing to call you out on your shit. So instead of continuing down that route, you decided to veer for a new approach, switching from your assortment of insolent tactics. 

   "Do you get off on this, then?" Your voice morphing into meekness while you adopted an expression of distress, bottom lip jutting out with the sparkle of thinly veiled sarcasm glimmering in your eyes. "Do you like thinking of yourself as the Big Bad Hero, maybe?" And you could tell by the way the incipient smile froze on his lips that your question had caught him off guard. Made you wanna press even harder, "Do you like the idea of taking a defenseless little girl into an alley and showing her just how bad you can be? Maybe planned on teaching me a lesson, is that it?"

   His frown mimicked yours now, no longer any hints of cruel enjoyment on his part. His eyes still glowed red, but he was now squinting ever so slightly, zeroing in on you not only due to the limits of his quirk but also due to the words rapidly continuing to escape your impudent mouth. 

   "Does Eraserhead like to fuck his lays into being law-abiding citizens? Is the power over someone else what really gets you off, perhaps?"

   It was like a spell was cast on the both of you. He couldn't drift his attention, his eyes couldn't stop scanning your face — quickly flickering from the hatred coloring your gaze to the slight quiver of frustration shaking your lips. The hand which he still used to grab your stockings was now a closed fist, knuckles growing pale from the poorly contained strength.

   "Bet you plotted this entire thing, you creep. Wanted to take me behind an alley and show me my place." Your taunts were becoming increasingly more risqué, the anger blurring your sense of preservation—and the hint of something else too, a secret excitement you were unwilling to recognize. "Wanted to have me all submissive and obedient under you, surely. Show me what a scary hero cock can do, is that it?"

   But instead of earning another entertaining grimace, you had a first-row seat to the rapidly darkening expression on his face. Eyes squinted at the same time that the bandages settled even tighter around you, cutting off your breath for a moment before relenting just enough not to suffocate you. 

    And that's when you first felt it for the first time, just when your jests died on your lips and you drank on his foreboding reaction. The grip of Eraserhead's quirk, more constricting than any ropes, wavering faintly around the prison he had constructed around you; the distinct buzzing in your hands returning for a mere instant before flickering out again.

   Now that was interesting.

   "Should watch what you're saying," the pro-hero sounded gruff, voice tinted by a new kind of intensity.

   Like a shark smelling the smallest whiff of blood, you couldn’t help your instincts urging you to dial down. 

   "Always knew you hero types had a hard-on for the power trips. Bet you were using all of this as a decoy. Is this when you strip me and hold me down? When you plow me into the floor of this alley and tell me to "behave or else"?" 

   You knew your jabs were going too far, getting too brazen… yet as much as you enjoyed making the Pro visibly uncomfortable, once he decided to close the distance between you two there was little you could do to stop yourself from flinching. A fire inhabited his expression, the vivid brightness emanating from his stare not only intimidating, but downright frightening too.

   "Are you trying to rile me up?" His hand gripped your face with force, bandages shifting until they were enveloping your neck, holding you up and forcing you to reciprocate his glare, "What do you think will you achieve by antagonizing me even more, V/N?"

   You just looked at him through your eyelashes, still somehow managing to play up the innocent act through the layers of fear settling in. And as expected, it only served to further his irritation, calloused fingers digging even deeper into your cheeks and coaxing the claws of terror to continue trailing their nails all around you. 

   "I’m just trying to understand you, Eraserhead." The way you smiled at him was defiance personified despite it all, your tongue wetting your lips while you caught his eyes following the movement. There was the slightest give of his quirk again, a fluctuation in his concentration informing you that you were finally on the right track. "And I think, given the fact that I haven’t been cuffed yet, that we can both still come to a mutual agreement."

   Fingers twitched around your jawline, muffling your words while your sides were squished together harshly. But even manhandling you, the Hero couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes, an interest you foolishly believed to be ignited by your former comments. 

   "So you are indeed trying to rile me up then." It was an assertion, not a hint of doubt in his leisure intonation. 

   Instead of replying this time, you just slowly blinked his way, observing your imitation of meekness reflected in a gaze that refused to abandon yours. It had been so long since you last tried to play coy, so long since you needed to depend on anything besides your own strength and ruthlessness. You couldn’t help the thrill you got from playing the role. 

   "Think you’ll get me distracted enough to break away, I bet." He was whispering directly against your skin after getting dangerously closer, the heat from his cushioned lips provoking an involuntary shiver. "Do you believe nobody else tried this approach before, little villain?"

   You gulped, feeling caught before you even had time to properly set the stage. 

   "I wasn’t..."

   "Weren’t what, trying to seduce me?" There was a sense of levity hidden somewhere under his timbre, stored between words that kept dragging on in a mantle of aloofness. "Or did you not mean any of your words?"

   When you didn’t reply, you could feel the cruel smile resurfacing against your earlobe. 

   "If I lift your dress right now, do you think I’ll have my answer?" His question sounded almost casual, as weightless as your alias had been when he first called you out. 

   Your heartbeat sang in your chest, an anxious hummingbird trapped inside your ribcage. Because you knew the answer, you both did. 

   When the hand still clutching your bunched hosiery came up to press the fabric against your thighs, you could not help the gasp that escaped you.

   "I bet all those things you were just saying…" His tone drifted off as the stockings were slowly guided up the vastness of your legs, fingers barely grazing you through the thin layer of the stolen undergarments. He was thoroughly teasing you, enjoying the manner in which your expression contorted in response. "You just want me to do them to you, don’t you?"

   Even if you would’ve wanted to object, the pressure of his nylon-covered digits finally reaching your dampened panties was enough to kill any possible refusal. He traced the outline of your slit, soft touches running across it with deceitful lightness, and your mind became positively staggered as you were rendered overwhelmed by his actions. 

   You didn’t have to worry about his next move for long, either, because barely a moment’s notice passed before his entire palm was eagerly covering your crotch. And the new way in which he groped you was demanding, the heel of his wrist putting just enough pressure to drag a shamefully loud mewl from you. 

   The douchebag even had the gall to laugh at your reaction, the sound of his mirth prompting you to writhe even harder as he continued to feel you up through your rapidly soaking underwear. 

   "Knew you’d be a slutty one." His breath was hoarse against the side of your face, the stubble on his jaw scratching against your skin in a way which made you wonder how it would feel pressing elsewhere. "So fucking wet, it must hurt being this eager."

   He didn’t specify what exact kind of pain he meant, whether your growing need for release or the insufferable blow all of this represented to your pride. Somehow, though, you had an inkling that he was referencing both. 

   "Wanna show me just how needy you are?" His words echoed with each laboured breath of his, one of the few signs you had that he was clearly very much into the whole affair despite his detached demeanor. "Maybe you could show me more of your adorable little cries." 

   As Eraserhead rutted his palm against you another time, you found your hips lowering down to chase the feeling much to your own chagrin, more moans making their way out of your panting mouth while he coaxed you to sing the notes of his preferred melody. 

   It was true that you hated his guts… but another fact was that you hadn’t had action in a long while either. Even with the threat of imprisonment hanging over you, you could not deny how desirable the idea to get to cum against that veiny hand of him was, to grip those muscular shoulders as you reached the perdition he was so tantalizingly offering. 

   Decidedly forgotten was your plan of you being the one distracting him. For fuck’s sake, you really were a needy whore. 

   "Why not show me how you cum for me in this alley, if you’re really that desperate?" His words kept getting cruder, his tongue tracing a languid stripe from your earlobe down to the side of your neck, a beautiful path of distractions threatening to dip your sanity even lower. "Be the dirty little villain that I know you are, doll."

   But just as soon as the stimulation was hitting you a second time, so it suddenly disappeared. One second fingers were flexing against your tender flesh, coated by your arousal through the layers of fabric separating you and fluttering with the promise of an impending release, and then the very next instant you were left to whimper (a villain like you, actually whimpering!) in the unbearable wake of their absence. 

   When your eyes searched for the Hero’s again, in his blown out pupils you could only dare interpret part of the enjoyment he was getting from watching you scram for his touch, beautifully bold handwriting spelling out arousal for all to read.  

   Watching you so easily betray your own ego after all of your lip service? More than simple music to his ears, it was an entire sonnet. 

   "But, now that I think of it, you were the one trying to walk away free from this. So why should you be the one getting pleasured?"

   Even in your precarious situation, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

   "Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently, your discomfort at being denied was enough to forego your better senses.

   The bindings contracted around you in quick response to your insolence, your neck being craned even further and your arms mishandled until they were behind your back instead of at your sides, a sharp pain blooming from your shoulders as you struggled to adjust.

   Treated like this, he really did make you feel like a helpless little doll. (Goddamn, that thought alone was enough to have your juices gushing again, the trails of your excitement starting to make a mess of your inner thighs.)

   "You don’t get it, do you?" He asked in a despondent voice, unblinking eyes still refusing to abandon your face as he elaborated, "you should already be on your way to some second-rate villain prison, cuffed and muzzled and someone else’s problem."

   At his reminder of what you believed to be your impending fate, the mocking pout on your face transformed into a retelling of real horror. Because your spotless reputation was the one trick in your book that had managed to give you a sliver of notoriety over the rest of the unremarkable criminals, much more significant than any quirk or grandiose crime. 

   So for someone like you to lose that? You might as well hang up the villain costume and retire, for all anyone would care. (And yes, you had been called an attention whore a lot throughout your life, but who could blame you when you couldn’t help but thrive on it?)

   Sensing your spiraling thoughts, the Pro raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful stint, as if he was truly empathizing with the agonized look of your face. 

   "I know you don’t want that, doll." As his declaration dragged on, the grip that had been steadying your jaw was swapped instead for the peculiar feeling of damp fabric —your pantyhose being pushed against your cheek and spreading your own juices around, all while Eraserhead intently studied the new wave of disgust coloring your features. "So why not show me that even a villain slut like you can behave? Give me a reason to believe that and..." The slickered garment was now pressing to your closed lips, your eyes starting to water with the weight of the humiliation you were being made to endure. "Maybe then I’ll consider letting you go."

    You knew he was lying, had every right to doubt the sincerity of his promise and, in its place, conclude he just meant to take advantage of you in your desperate state and then leave you for the pigs to find anyway. 

    You knew all of that, and yet you still opened your mouth and allowed him to do as he pleased. When he worked the pair of soiled stockings inside, you had troubles recognizing the pathetic sight being reflected your way from the wild hue of his gaze. 

   For someone who had always prided herself in being a predator, you had never looked more like prey.

   "Fuck, that’s it, doll." He pushed the piece further with his fingers, forcing you to stretch your lips until your jaw started to hurt from the strain. His fingers swirled inside, pressing the soaked material against the flat of your tongue and instructing you to eagerly lick it.

   You had never felt as debased in your entire life, being forced to choose between savoring your own arousal while tied up in an alley or ruining a reputation you had fought so earnestly to maintain. 

   (And yet your thighs were pressing together now, attempting to create some meager friction to alleviate a yearning that did nothing but shift, demand, grow.)

   "Look at you cleaning up your own mess," he almost sounded proud of you as you kept dutifully sucking, his other hand brushing your hair away from your shoulders in a strangely consoling way. "Seeing you all obedient like this, one could be fooled into thinking there is yet hope for reform."

   By the time the Hero finally took his hand away, bunching up the stockings before fitting them into one of the hidden pockets of his dark costume, you thought you could discern a mocking smile through the clouds of tears.

   "But now, now, doll… are you gonna keep crying or do you wanna try and take proper care of me next?"

   Not finding it in yourself to raise your voice again, you instead opted to wet your lips hesitantly as you awaited for him to elaborate further. There was a question dying to be asked, struggling somewhere alongside the myriad of insolent retorts and insults you wished you could swing the Hero’s way without being harshly reprimanded. 

   "I wouldn’t call that proper exactly," a chuckle reverberated from the back of his throat, gravely and dark as he misrepresented your movements. Fingers still slick from your saliva caressed your bottom lip, massaging it in a way which played straight into the undermining tilt of his words. "Although I’m sure you must be dying to wrap your pretty lips around my cock. Would give you a good reason to stay quiet, uh?"

   You really had been intending not to fall for his obvious goading, not trying to give the Pro anymore reasons to be harsh with you (or even worse, give him an excuse to leave you alone and to a fate worse than his company ever would be). 

   Had tried so hard too, but the cocky villain in you could only take so much degradation before it snapped. 

   "Goddamn it, are you trying to fuck me or bore to death?" As for the slight quivering in your voice, you dearly hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it. 

   Predictably enough, that slip earned you another harsh tug from the capture weapon, your whole body pulled back until you thought you were about to be snapped. 

   "I was just about to praise you for being all sweet for me, V/N." The switch from his pet names to your alias felt like a bucket of ice being dumped on you, voice a slow drawl while he tugged once more from your bottom lip, but this time harsh enough to have you wincing. "I’m trying to teach you how to be a proper girl, so don’t make me regret it. Or would you prefer to go take a prolonged vacation in a holding cell?"

   He already knew your answer judging by the way his eyes coldly studied you, unearthing the secrets you uselessly attempted to hide with an ease that unnerved you (and, as much as you loathe to admit, fascinated you). 

   When he tugged at your mouth again, nails sinking just enough to be noticeable, you knew he was expecting a verbal answer. And a nice one, at that. 

   "Then fucking get on with it…" Words slurred at the end, caught up in the increasingly somber aura of your captor before you swallow thickly, quickly adding as an afterthought, "Please."

   At that, his scowl receded enough for some satisfaction to find its way back into his grimace.

   The more you struggled, the sweeter your surrender became.  

   "Not perfect, but better," he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

   If you had properly studied just who he was beyond his active Heroism, then you would’ve understood just how accustomed he was to insubordination. If anything, your act only served to make him feel more at home.

   You had barely any time to wonder about whatever he had planned next though, because in an instant that damned contraction of his was moving you around once more, twisting you until you were facing the brick wall of the alleyway with heaving breaths. 

   Your legs were now maneuvered until you were forced to keep them apart just a smidgen, the new inviting space between your thighs surely a most intoxicating promise for the sick man manhandling you. And your back experienced pain afterwards too, harshly pushed until you had no option but to allow yourself to be pressed against the dirty walls; As a result, you found yourself with your ass backed up and for the world to see, the frilly skirt of your dress caught somewhere between all the movements.

   Yet even being roughed up as you were, when a hand reached out to tug your ruined underwear away you couldn't help greedily rutting into it, too worried by the fire gathering in your lower belly to care about maintaining a semblance of the reluctance you would later claim to have experienced. 

   It was almost comical for the Hero to observe the pathetic image you were now serving up on an ornate platter —especially when compared to the list of deviant crimes and horrors your spreadsheet of accomplishments preached. For all intents and purposes, you really were a horrible, messed up individual…

   So it was a wonder why his mind had kept supplying him with the same descriptor ever since he first saw you, the same sweet little word that he thought might as well be written all over your skin for how accurate it described you.

   A cute little doll (soon to be his cute little doll). Despite believing himself to be a fairly responsable Hero, the man had never wanted to play with anything as much as he did with you.

   The sound of a zipper being lowered was alarmingly loud in the emptiness of your surroundings, as loud as a wail to your sensitive ears. When you squirmed below your restraints, nonetheless, you could no longer pinpoint whether it was from unadulterated fear or a sick sense of anticipation.

   How easy it had been to break you, even if you would never recognize it openly.

   "Knew you were into it, and now watch your ass trembling in excitement for me." He was chuckling again, not pretending like the cruelty coating his words had any other intention but to degrade you further. It had been just his luck, to find the one villain who just so happened to enjoy it. "I really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I, doll?"

   When the lewd sound of one of his fists pumping his cock reached your ears, you didn’t even bother disguising the whines of complaint refusing to be contained any longer. 

   "Stop..." Words spilled from clenched teeth, growled out with an annoyance that no longer sought to defy, "Fucking..." but to demand instead, "Teasing."

   "Hmm, that’s cute. Why don’t you try begging me though?" His cadence was growing as bated as his breath, littered by intermittent curses as his eyes dined on the sight of your glistening core, held up and offered up for him to do as he pleased. "Beg for me to use you, and if you put on a good enough show I might just let you off."

   Another shiver rampaging it's way through your body, an exhilaration that could not be entirely pinpointed. 

   "Please…" You started, rough intonation dripping with venom —But Eraserhead didn't seem to mind the sardonic nature of your pleading though, not as you heard the litany of damnations being spilled from his lips. Your shameful excitement, your bitterness, your hatred… he would feast on it all and do it gladly. "Get on with it, bastard. Didn't anyone tell you never to toy with your food?"

   A low murmur was your only response at first, followed by the lewd sound of his pre-cum covered cock being harshly jerked.

   "Hmmm, aren't you being a bit too demanding…" His steps echoed again behind you, his unoccupied hand coming up to massage your ass with a rather firm grip. "Even with the begging, I don't think you've learned your place yet."

    When he planted a slap in the same place he had been eagerly caressing before, sharp and flaring up your nerves with the sting of pain and humiliation, you couldn't stop your scream from turning into a wanton little moan halfway through. 

   Even if he was hitting you, it still meant he was touching you, and so enticingly close to the place you actually needed tended to.

   "Do it…" your breathing was too heavy to speak in full fluid sentences, body flushed and mind filled with the buzzing of desire. "Do it again, fuck."

   You were still not begging him like he asked, but it seemed like your choice of words still greatly pleased him. Another slap rained on your ass, his big warm palm massaging the same reddening spot right after.

   And he kept going, the spanking echoing through your body and sending both pain and pleasured shivers up your spine—lewd sounds mixing in with the increasing pace of his other fist pumping his cock. Even without directly touching you, your pussy clenched and weeped with each firm hit. 

   "Damn, it's my first time meeting such a masochistic whore." Punctuated by his most painful slap yet, the globes of your ass left trembling and a furious shade of crimson to match his lust-filled eyes. "I can see why you've managed to stay free for so long, little villain." The debasement, paired with the pain of his firm strikes, had you moaning even louder. You couldn't even recognize your own sounds, nor the thrills you felt at this entire fucked up ordeal. "Wonder how many other Pros you showed this beautiful sight to."

   Even through the fog of sensations impeding you from being wholly coherent, though, you still couldn't help but want to set the record straight. 

   "None, fuck…" Words merging into another expectant whine when you felt his hand gripping your flesh again, only this time he was kneading you in an oddly tender way —Urging you on, fingers creeping closer to your needy hole. "I'm not… usually in the business of fucking Heroes. Shit, I hate this…" 

   But you didn’t, and when you were surprised by the warmth of his naked erection barely grazing the sensitive outer lips of your cunt, you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped you. 

   "Goddamn, V/N, even while you're an ill-mannered brat you still manage to know just what to say." 

   And then the older man was sliding his cock in the juncture of your thighs, teasing your core by pressing against it while grunts began to escape him. You thought you could cry from having him so close yet still not where you wanted him, but then his shallow thrusts against your legs proved to be much more stimulating than you first expected. 

   The fat head of his cock even managed to somewhat stimulate your puffy clit with its movements, pushing in its direction as your essence continued to leak out and cover you both. And It was so absolutely debauched, to think a Hero was using your thighs like a fucktoy while you were tied down and unable to stop it....

   But it felt so good. Even without him actually in you, you had never been this turned on before. 

   "More… ughhh," you were now screaming with the side of your face pressed flush against the disgusting brick walls, needy sounds filling the night and making it privy to your descent into madness.

   Another thrust, this time angled just precisely enough not to caress your pleasurable areas. Punishment, you feverishly thought while you attempted to wiggle your ass, eager to force more of that delicious friction you were quickly becoming hypnotized by. 

   "Now, V/N," his gruff voice had adopted a mocking tone of reprimand as he continued to rut against the soft skin of your thighs. "Haven't I taught you anything, yet? If you want something…" The hand returned to your heated skin, digits underneath you both spreading your pussy enough for the chilly night air to send shivers straight to your core. "You gotta say please."

   And say please you did. Screamed it even, so eager for more and already far beyond feeling any embarrassment. 

   He didn't fuck you, not like you really wanted, but suddenly his thick shaft was sliding between your lips as his capture weapon aided him in angling your body just right, pulsing against your hole while he found a new rythimn. When both of his hands returned, one of them held you back to make the process even easier while the other swiftly joined his cock in tending to your eager pussy.

   So lost were you in the new raw excitement seizing you, in the knowledge of just how messed up you both were for engaging in such debauchery —so distracted that you didn't even notice the faint buzzing returning to your arms, the vibrancy of an old frequency being reactivated and allowed to encapsulate you again.

   (You didn’t notice, but fuck if it didn’t made your orgasm all the sweeter.) 

   You were cumming like that, your moans resembling squeaks, your body feeling closer to a used fucktoy than a human being. The hero kept rutting against you, the joint efforts of his cock and hand mercilessly continuing to abuse your spasming cunt while your cries filled the space with their decadence. 

   You felt dirty, guilty, maybe even a little ashamed as the orgasm briefly gave you a clarity of mind your arousal had clouded.

   And yet, despite it all, it had been the best you felt in years, possibly ever. As the Pro now tugged your hair, forcing you to wrench your neck just enough to look at him over your shoulder, you couldn't help licking your lips in expectation of what he had in store next.

   "You're gonna show me your face next time you come, little villain." He gave you just enough time to nod, eyebrows drawn as your pleasure got impossibly dragged out by the stimulation he still bathed you with. "And you're gonna keep begging me, keep showing me why you deserve to stay free, okay?"

   It was commendable, how collected he managed to sound while thrusting into your thighs like that, the sounds of skin slapping against skin driving each of his words home. 

   "Yes, fuck, whatever you want…" Despite your senses shortly coming back earlier, you were still too far gone to rethink your poor choices. You just knew you wanted more, and so you asked for it. "Just give me more, please."

   So fucking obedient. If your parents could see you know, their failure of a villain daughter being all proper and learning to beg for what she wanted? Well, perhaps saying they'd be proud was a stretch, considering you were also the one getting fucked in the middle of a filthy alley. 

   What you hadn’t expected, however, was just how well your begging would work. 

   Because the next thrust of his shaft was not between your legs, but aimed to finally breach your needy cunt instead, easily filling you up in one go with how utterly soaked in both of your juices you already were. The girth of him had you already clenching with renewed vigor, his hand stopping his assault on your clit just to give you enough time to truly savor the new intoxicating sensation.

   And when your eyes found his again, so drunk on the waves of pleasure you were that you also failed to notice the lack of scarlet coloring the orbs boring into yours, now inescapable voids of dark desire and a type of intense fixation you thought hadn't been there moments ago. 

   (Or maybe it was always there, and you had been too busy with your own turmoil to notice the clues being left by your so-called enemy).

   "Want me to stuff you properly?" His guttural question hit you at the same time as his sharp movements found your tender spot with experienced ease, walls tightening around him while your entire body struggled to continue holding yourself upright, relying more and more on the capture weapon to keep you from toppling over. 

   The binds still hurt from how tightly they wrapped around you, bruises sure to be left on their wake, but by that point you weren't so sure anymore the sting was an entirely bad thing. If anything, it just made the pleasure all the sweeter by comparison.  

   "Want me to fill you with so much cum that you reek of hero cock for the rest of the week?" He laughed while he regurgitated some of your words from earlier, the hand pressing against your lower stomach caressing you with a distinct sense of ownership as he elicited another loud moan with a sharp movement of his hips. 

   Noticing you reacting not only to his actions but to his quips, you could practically hear the self congratulatory smirk as he spoke next.

   "Bet the other villains would love knowing how much of a cockhungry whore you turned into too, doll. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy."

   And he was right, in a way. Because what would your fellow villains think, seeing you being wrecked by one of the most infamous Pros in the business, lowering yourself to pleading and screaming as he rearranged your insides. 

   Would you get called a disloyal whore or just a plain traitor? Not only would your spotless reputation and the myth you had fought to build collapse, but from its ashes your eternal shame could be erected. 

   A shame that would tower over you, looming around you while the eyes of your peers followed you everywhere. You could even picture the jests veered your way, the looks of utter disgust and ridicule...

   Somehow, the idea of anyone finding out only made your screams grow louder, impossibly more fervent. 

   "Fucking… get on with it."

   However, his rhythm was rapidly interrupted after your jab, his cock pulling out almost entirely as your core convulsed with the sudden staggering emptiness it was left to grapple with. More whimpers, struggling against the set of eternally unforgiving ties encasing your body. 

   "But you're making me do all the work, little one" Another slap shook your entire frame as it landed heavily on your still pained cheeks. You were so sore, both from the previous set of hits and from the sheer exhaustion starting to set in, muscles tight and resentful from the awkward positions your body had been manhandled into. "If you really want to continue this, how about you start doing some of the heavy lifting, uh?" Just like before, his palm started massaging the tender spot he had just smacked, fingers digging into your supple flesh being as close to comforting as the Pro seemed capable of. "Show me just how good you can be."

   And you could've argued, truly, could've even attempted to hold onto the last vestiges of your pride…

   You could’ve done a lot of things, but the truth was that when his weapon relented its hold at last, retreating from the underside of your knees and giving in just a smidge for the first time since you had been captured, you didn't waste any seconds before you were chasing after your high with renewed vigor.

   Greedily sinking into him with an obscene sigh, you audibly marveled at the curve of his member being deliciously imprinted in your insides. While you copied the cadence the Hero had previously employed, his grip on your lower belly fluttered, almost like he couldn't decide whether to take control back or allow you to humiliate yourself further with your own zealousness. 

   It seemed like the later prospect won him over in the end though, because he remained almost impassively still as you did all the work needed to bring you both deliriously close to your peaks. 

   The sight must've been spectacular, watching you, renown villain V/N, so thoroughly broken and willing to heed his every command. Impaling yourself on his cock, moaning and continuing to beg him for something you were already taking for yourself. 

   If he died right then and there, he doubted Heaven wouldn't have as much appeal as the scene still unfolding before his eyes. (But again, considering his actions, Heaven wouldn't really be the right place for either of you.)

   You were just about to reach your second orgasm, toes curling inside your shoes, fists clenched and a face that spelt poetic extasis. Angling the way you took his cock, every single movement driving him painstakingly deeper, slamming against a spot that made you imagine the stars falling from the sky all around you, their light being the one bathing you instead of the malfunctioning street lamps. 

   So goddamn close…

   Only to have him pull out again, this time completely. You were clenching against nothing, all stimulation stolen from you, and the bitterness of a ruined orgasm promptly dragged curses and complaints out of you before you could even think to stop them. 

   Eyes searched his, urgently seeking an explanation for his withdrawal only to find his glare fixated instead on that same dirty pair of stockings that had started it all. 

   Eraserhead must have taken the garment out of his pocket sometime while he fucked you, unfolding it from its scrunched up state until the crotch was visibly presented for both of you to admire, dark sheer fabric still stained from a mix of your arousal and spit. 

   When the Pro looked at you again, a beautifully dark smile topped his attractive face. He looked painfully content, the way he studied your own mortified expression reminding you of an artist studying his masterwork. 

   "Only the truly obedient ones get their cunts filled." You noticed then how his other hand was jerking him off again, erection rubbing against the nylon undergarments in a most obscene depiction. Too bad you were too frustrated to appreciate any of it. "I don't think you've… hell, you haven't earned it yet, V/N."

    You didn't even notice you were tearing up from the annoyance until it was too late. And maybe that was what finally did it, seeing you actually crying at his refusal to breed you like the slut you both knew you were, writhing in exaggerated despair as you found yourself feeling jealous of a stupid pair of tights, because not long after your pathetic reaction the man was letting out a pained groan of his own and spilling himself all over the damned garment. 

   But instead of rubbing your wailing in your face after he came down from his own delicious high, last few spurts of cum slowing down to a halt, you were surprised instead by the weapon that had been binding you for the longest time finally retreating.

   As expected, you unceremoniously collapsed to the floor, feet now unprepared for supporting your weight and your entire being wholly exhausted after enduring the roughest fuck you had ever experienced. It hurt all over, although you weren't sure whether your still present longing wasn't what pained you the most. 

   When you looked up to the Pro again, trying to find an answer to the new freedom you were experiencing, you were surprised by having the cum-dripped stockings thrown in your face. 

   And quite literally so, the still wet seed dribbling down your cheek and into your trembling lips, all before you collected enough wits to grab the offending item and pull it down with an expression of unadulterated disgust. 

   "Sorry, doll, but you were pouting so irresistibly," The Eraser user actually laughed, this time the sound coming with an untroubled merriment you did not think he was capable of.

   He actually looked worn out while he tucked himself back into his costume, accommodating the pieces of clothing until all hints from your ravenous affair disappeared. The bandages were wrapping themselves around his neck once more, looking more like an extravagant scarf than the most precise set of inmovilazing gear you had ever endured. 

   However, something about his attitude had you forgetting all about his newest slight, much too worried by a new cause of worry. 

   "Hold on..."

   Eraserhead looked down at you from his place after you raised your voice, urging you to continue as he finished getting himself presentable. The air of nonchalance around him was almost more intimidating than any of the actual threats or vulgar comments he had voiced prior. Almost.

   "Are you…" you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, voice still raspy and hoarse after what had just transpired. "Are you really letting me go?"

   The man just raised one of his eyebrows at that, eyes crinkling for the first time and looking strangely amused. 

   "Doll, I stopped exerting my quirk on you while I was still teasing you good and proper," he declared bluntly. When his orbs glimmered again, you now felt like an imbecile as you finally realized they had completely lost the reddish hue to them. "So you know what? I thought you deserved to get an out of jail free card for behaving yourself… even if you still need to work some more on your manners."

   To call your shocked expression dumbfounded would be a disservice. 

   When his now bottomless eyes bore into yours for one final time, all you could do was stare back in dazzled shock. Your quirk was back, the Pro himself had just confirmed it, and yet you were still nailed to the spot, still anticipating his next words without even thinking of attacking him in the meantime.

   One little tumble and you were already his brightest pupil yet. He was now so glad to have waited that long, it only made the outcome all the more fulfilling. 

   "You don’t need to be so surprised, Y/N, we'll be seeing each other soon,” He kneeled in front of you for an instant, both hands reaching out to hold up your face in a gesture more resembling a lover than… well, whatever the hell you two were. So entranced you were then, that the use of your real name barely even registered. “It’s been difficult to keep you away from trouble thus far,” his acknowledgment reverberated in the alley, its meaning something else lost to you as you couldn’t help but become entranced by the new peculiar softness he addressed you with, “but getting you like this now, seeing you break so easily… fuck, I’ll mold you right back up, doll, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

   And just then, for the first time you realized, the Hero’s lips were brushing against yours gently, uncharacteristically careful as he kissed you slowly. Even his hands were tender while they guided you, treating you as if you truly were a doll that could just be snapped with a mere wrong movement. As if he hadn’t just been treating you like a dirty hole for him to use and abuse just short instants ago. 

   But at least he did not seem to care about the mess that was your face at the moment, about the cum stains or the still damp trails of tears. And, for whatever reason, you found yourself returning the gesture in kind, melting into the oddly affectionate touch of a man you were still halfway sure you loathed. 

   Even after he left you, alone and a mess still toppled over on the floor with the shadow of humiliation cloaking your shoulders, your fingers couldn’t help but touch your lips with a bizarre mixture of bewilderment and horror.

   He told me I would see him soon, your mind supplied as you found yourself irreparably fixating your stare on the pair of now completely ruined tights you were still holding onto. The fact that you felt any type of excitement about the notion did not fail to mortify you. 

   God, even for villain standards you were fucked. 

But it was okay, because misery loved company and, with time at his disposal and the right amount of coaching, Shouta was sure he could teach you to properly crave his soon enough.

— — — 

And, 8k of foul smut later, if y’all read through that whole thing... drop by my ask to recieve your congratulatory gold stars! ⭐ (jk but I do appreciate hearing y’alls thoughts, it’s what keeps me halfway productive 🖤)

Last but not least, very special thanks to my best pals @reinawritesbnha​, @snappysnapo​ and @drxwsyni​ (who actually proof read this and helped me out immensely with her Big Brain Feedback. A TALENTED ANGEL). 

[remuslovebot]

Super Freak

[ young Remus Lupin x reader ]

originally posted on my Wattpad @accioremu https://www.wattpad.com/user/accioremu

"Tonight is the night I get Lily Evens," James insisted to all of you. You and Remus were curled up together on the couch, him playing with your hair. Sirius was lounging on the chair and Peter was on the floor playing Wizard chess by himself.

You laughed under your breath at James's statement, "And how exactly do you know this, Prongs? I know your not passing divination," you joked, causing the rest of the boys to laugh under their breath. "Ha ha, Y/n," James nodded, sarcastically.

"Okay but seriously, what's your plan?" Remus asked. James cleared his throat, "Tonight at the Gryffindor party, I will woo her with my scholastic aptitude's," he smiled.

You could tell he didn't really know what he was saying, but you knew how genuinely he felt about your best friend so you offered some help.

"Okay...before you do that, I can talk you up to her. Her, Marlene, and I were going to Hogsmeade today anyway." You said. James appreciated the help, knowing that he would need it, if he wanted Lily Evens attention.

Kissing you goodbye before meeting Marlene and Lily, Remus tucked some of your hair out of your face. "Have fun," he smiled, not being able to take his eyes off of you. It was always like that, he was always admiring you. You chuckled in response, "I will," you replied.

"Y/n, let's go it's freezing!" Marlene yelled as Lily gave her a light shove. You looked back at them, letting out a giggle. "Okay Rem, I should go," you said, kissing him on the nose.

You pulled away, but Remus kissed you one last time before leaving. "Don't have too much fun, love," he joked. You nodded, then turning around to Lily and Marlene.

"Finally," Marlene joked, nudging you on the shoulder. "Oh hush, she and Remus are so cute together," Lily defended. You blushed, then looking at your two best friends. "You know Lily, if you give James a chance we could double date," you inquired.

Lily blushed, then focusing her gaze on the town. "You know how I feel about James, Y/n," Lily said. You rolled your eyes, "If you mean in love, then yes, I know how you feel," you smiled. Marlene let out a laugh as Lily shook her head, smiling.

"Did James put you up to this?" She asked. You knew that she was smart enough to catch on, especially when she knew that James liked her. "Yes, he did! I think you should give him a chance and Lil's, I'm not saying that because he told me to. I'm saying it because you both look cute together," You explained.

"Kinda like Y/n and Remus," Marlene pointed out, making Lily gawk in disbelief. "You too!" She said. Marlene laughed, "Awe come on, give him a chance, you know you want to," she joked. Lily sighed, thinking about what she would do. Then the two of you continued to Hogsmeade.

Later that night, the party was in full swing. Sirius was drinking like a fish, while flirting with a group of fifth years. James was passing out drinks, as Lily and him would casually make eye contact with eachother from time to time. Peter, was also passing out drinks, wanting desperately to be as cool as James.

You and Remus were seated near the fire, a glass of fire-whiskey in your guy's hands.

Looking over to the sea of people, mostly Gryffindors...you spotted a nervous Lily walking over to James. "Oh my god, she's going to do it," you mumbled. Remus, entranced by playing with your hair, looked at you confused, "Who's going to do what," Remus replied.

"Lily, she's making her way over to Potter," you said, sitting up to get a closer look. As you got up, Sirius drunkenly walked over to the two of you. "So you talked to her?" Remus asked.

Sirius looked to you, "Yes, go match maker Y/n!" He said, stumbling. You laughed under your breath as you saw him pass out. "Man, he is going to hate missing this," you joked. "Yeah well it's probably best they aren't interrupted anyway," Remus replied.

You couldn't believe it, Lily had actually taken your advice and Marlene's probably helped to. Speaking of, Marlene seeing Lily approach James, grabbed Peter by his robes to walk him over to where you guys were.

"Hey, we miss anything?" She asked. You shook your head. "No there just talking," you replied. "At least they aren't fighting," Remus said. You nodded, they did have a tendency to bicker. "Sirius is going to be sad he missed this," Peter said, shaking his head.

After seeing them talk for a while, they eventually left the portrait hole. "Wow," you said. "Yeah," Marlene replied, just as in shock as you. "Alright, it's getting late and the life of the party is already passed out," you said, pointing to Sirius and thinking it would be a good time to call it a night.

"I'll put Sirius to bed. Peter, help me," Remus said. Peter nodded, getting up off the floor. Before walking over to Sirius, Remus walked over to you. "Stay out here, yeah?" He questioned. You nodded, kissing him on the cheek. Remus and Peter picked up a passed out Sirius, walking him up to their dorm room.

You and Marlene took out your wands, then beginning to clean up the common room. Everyone groaned, knowing the party was over. Some went back to their common rooms and others lazily walked up their dorms. "I'm guessing you staying out here for Remus?" Marlene asked.

You nodded in response. "Okay then, don't stay up to late, Y/n/n," Marlene said. She then walked up to the dorm room that you, Lily, and her shared. You sat down on the couch, waiting for Remus and thinking what James and Lily were doing right now. Feeling some one take your hand, you turned to see Remus sitting down next to you. "I'm back, love," he said.

"So why did you want me to stay behind?" You asked. "I wanted to give you a proper goodnight," he said, leaning into kiss you. You kissed back, the kiss getting extremely heated. After a few minutes of making out on the couch, you both heard the portrait door open.

"Shit! McGonagall?" You whispered. Remus didn't know who else it could be and knew that the both of you were sure to get busted.

Looking up and over the couch your let out a breath of relief. "Thank god, it's just you two," You said, seeing James and Lily.

Remus sat up from on top of you and James raised his eyebrows. "Worried we were McGonagall?" He joked. Remus playfully glared at him, "Yeah, we did," he replied, getting off you.

"So where did the two of you go?" You asked Lily. Lily blushed, walking up to take James hand, "We talked," she replied shortly, giving you a 'we will talk later' look. You nodded understandably.

“Well, Lily and I are going to head to bed," you said, now fully off the couch. You kissed Remus goodnight, mumbling the usual "I love you," to him.

The rest of the night, you, Lily, and Marlene talked about Lily's night with James. As the four boys, talked about the party, Lily, and you.

[nona-piccolo]

Obey Me you say ?? Oh HECK yeah, I’ve been thinking of a bunch of stuff ! Feel free to just respond to ones you enjoy, and I wish I had a preference of the brothers or others but that’s also really just up to you! The gender neutral pronouns are amazing, thank you !!! Now that that is out of the way, on to thoughts and questions!

How do you feel the brothers or others would react to a very blunt and honest MC? Like one that is nice as heck, but will not hesitate to tell you their actual thoughts on things- for example the constant bashing on Mammon or maybe helping Solomon out in the kitchen with friendly suggestions kinda vibe !

How do

Oh I love this one! A part of me thinks that the brothers truly need a blunt MC in their lives, especially with how they treat Mammon and such sometimes LOL Because there is no preference, I decided to only do the brothers for now. But I do feel bad, because my Asmodeus, Beel, and Belphie ones appear to be much shorter… Thank you for the request though, I really hope you enjoy the answer 💗

How the boys react to blunt MC

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Reader: gn!reader

Warnings: none :)

Lucifer

I think it’s well known that Lucifer is not the softest guy when it comes to words.

Not only does he say whatever is on his mind, no matter how harsh it may be, but he also doesn’t care at all whose feelings he hurts in doing so. And yet there has never been anyone else to try and voice their opinions fullheartedly towards him.

So when he first begins spending time with you, truly, he was lowkey shocked at how blunt and honest you were.

Especially when it was towards him.

“Lucifer, did you just hang Mammon from the banister… again??” you ask, barging into his office without knocking. He was quite used to this however, and the demon had long since given up trying to scold you for it; it was no use, you would just keep doing it.

It’s not like he minded though. In fact, your presence made his head feel light after the many hours of paperwork he was going at.

“Yes, I did actually. Why do you ask?” he replied, glancing up to see you situated in front of his desk. You had your hands on your hips, obviously looking displeased. For a second, he thought your irritation was directed towards him.

“Why do I ask?” you replied back, no hesitation in your voice. “This is the third time this week. Mammon clearly hasn’t learned to fix his behavior after the first few times, and it’s obvious that hurting him won’t solve a thing!”

Oh… your irritation was directed towards him

Lucifer blinked up at you, his red eyes trying to read your face. No one ever had a problem with him punishing Mammon in the creative ways he could find; in fact, his younger brothers appeared to love watching Mammon suffer.

Apparently… you had not.

“Y/N, I-” Lucifer sighed, hell bent on just straight up telling you that Mammon will never learn.

“No. Stop doing it. He doesn’t deserve that.” You cut him off, the frustration still showing on your face. And before the demon could reply, you had turned around to whisk yourself out of his office. 

The only thing left in the room was him and his thoughts--- and the sound of his pen slipping from his fingers to bounce onto the desk.

Ohhh boy, Lucifer had never had someone stand up to him like that. It wasn’t even like you were trying to be mean, or be the more ‘dominant’ one… you were just saying what was on your mind. And Lucifer wasn’t blind.. He knew how much his other brothers meant to you, so for you to care so much as to voice your opinion to the very avatar of pride himself--- maybe, just maybe, he could give Mammon a break from punishments.

Even though people like to portray Lucifer as someone who is super strict and would want to be around I guess more ‘submissive’ people who would obey him, I think he would certainly not like an MC who allows people to walk all over them. You are the perfect balance between kindness and honesty, making you a trustworthy companion.

And a good ol’ honest comment could never truly hurt Lucifer’s feelings. His skin was as thick as bone, so to finally be around someone who isn’t intimidated to speak their mind around him… it’s almost relieving

I guess you could even say he finds it attractive….

Mammon

Mammon had always enjoyed spending time with you

From the moment he met you, you had always given off a fun and compassionate aura, and so the demon was ecstatic to finally have a partner-in-crime!

Ehhhh… it wasn’t like that though

Although you found humor and joy in going along with his harmless schemes, there were some where you put your foot down without a grain of hesitation.

When you first voiced your opinion on how bad of an idea it was to try and snap a picture of Lucifer when he was sleeping, he instantly thought you were a debby downer with a goody-goody type of attitude. Mammon had groaned out in frustration as if he was a 3-year-old child.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! It’s not like Lucifer will even see ya coming,” he responded, pulling out his phone to text Satan and Asmodeus his plans.

You had stared at him after that for a solid minute, your arms crossed and your eyebrows furrowed as if you were thinking. It wouldn’t take a genius to recognize how bad of an idea that was.

“Mammon, you’ll probably be punished again. Respect Lucifer’s privacy please. Besides, I think it’ll be more fun if we watched a movie tonight! What do you say we rewatch the TSL series together?” you had brought up an alternate solution to keep him out of Lucifer’s wrath, hands folded together and eyes wide as you hoped he would agree and listen to you. Mammon was just confused though, looking at you as if you were crazy.

You’d rather watch that series all over again instead of trying to cause trouble for Lucifer??

Ugh… but look at your expecting face… he couldn’t just let you down.

Surprisingly, and begrudgingly though, he had agreed.

And guess who wasn’t thrown from the banister that night?? Mammon.

Your honesty doesn’t just stop there though.

As the family punching bag, Mammon was so used to taking the hits for his stupidity and then moving on. He never fought back. So when you decided to voice out how ridiculous it was that he was being called “stupid” and how ironic it was that Asmodeus was calling Mammon an “attention-seeker” or that Satan was referring to Mammon as an “asshole”, he was whole-heartedly surprised. 

Apparently so were his other brothers.

Everyone just sort of sat there in silence as you shot comments back at them, scolding them for treating Mammon like he was dirt. It wasn’t just one instance either; Every. Single. Time. You told them to knock it off.

And just like that, the harsh insults towards Mammon began to disappear, especially whenever you were around.

The avatar of greed never had anyone to stand up for him in the ways that you had. And he feels his heart swell up with warmth as you berate Lucifer of all people for hanging Mammon upside; the fall causing his sunglasses to slip and break, much to his disappointment.

Mammon made it a goal to always be near you when he voiced his opinion around others; because not only would you acknowledge what he said, but you also made sure the others wouldn’t shoot him down for simply being himself

It was like he could breathe when he was around you. Like every single thing he said wasn’t nitpicked apart and thrown away as a stupid thing. You were different. You told him what was wrong and gave him constructive criticism.

BUT-- that honestly doesn’t protect him from himself

No one is safe from your blunt persona, not even Mammon.

I think this is what he truly needs in his life though; because I believe honesty and bluntness comes from a place of love and comfort. You are blunt because you want Mammon to be the best that he can be, you are blunt because you want to see Mammon succeed, you are blunt because you care about him.

Every honest thing you say about him is to protect him.

So whenever Mammon sneaks into Leviathan’s room at night for a limited edition figurine, or slips down Diavolo’s corridors to try and snatch a vintage portrait that could make him some potential money… he always pauses to think of your reaction to his late night greedy urges. So that when he hesitantly puts down the portrait, he can sleep comfortably knowing that you’d be proud of him.

Leviathan

To be honest… I think it would make him very nervous when he observed that you were an honest person

Even though his brothers are equally as harsh to him-- for example, they don’t hesitate to call him a nerd, or a weeb and otaku-- he doesn’t seem to mind it anyways, since Leviathan has fully absorbed and accepted his otaku persona.

But this situation is a bit different… because even though Leviathan is used to his brothers being honest with him, it’s a whole different thing when Y/N does it.

Someone out of his family circle telling him that he’s a weirdo??

Yikes, he doesn’t think his heart could handle that.

So to cope he’ll at first just stay in his room… far away from you… so he could get to his usual activities.

He is already so used to being locked up in his room away from prying eyes and others’ opinions, so as soon as he takes notice of your blunt tendencies (especially when you had first voiced your thoughts to Lucifer), Leviathan shies away from being close to a normie like you. Besides, he doesn’t even need to leave, right? He has an emergency built stash of food for when he needs to eat, and he could just do school work on his own computer.

He has this whole imaginary field of comfort that he had built up for years and years; a room full of figures and merchandise-- his own personal utopia.

Leviathan doesn’t want you to judge him; he doesn’t want you to think that he’s weird or a loser. His poor introverted otaku heart couldn’t handle it

Clearly, he didn’t understand you at all...

That doesn’t stop you from hanging around him either. You insist he shouldn’t have to wait up all night alone for tickets on Zaramela’s new worldwide tour, and you had dragged Mammon along with you to give Leviathan some company.

He felt cornered, deciding to let you in to stay up late with him. And while Mammon had fallen asleep (much to Levi’s anxiety), he was left to try and entertain you to the best of his ability.

Leviathan hesitantly hopped onto his gaming console, turning on a classic favorite of his. It was simple, it was easy, and he was very familiar with it, especially considering he had played it and completed it over 25 times.

Perhaps his movements will be more shaky and unsure, however. When you sat down to watch him play his video games, he may mess up more often, to his dismay. Your distance to him was decent enough, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him begin to get absorbed into the game.

“You know, you’re very good at the game…” you mutter, looking down at his fingers flying across the controller. You wonder for a moment how Leviathan can even stare at the bright screen for so long without any permanent eye damage.

Apparently he took your comment as a sarcastic one, lightly scoffing. “Okay I get it… we can do something else… like uhh..” his eyes flitted down to a random CD he had discarded on his floor a while ago. “We could watch The Girl Whose Grandparents Travelled Back in Time to Tell Her She Was a Princess,” he casually brought up airily; already in the process of turning off his video game. He reached over to grab the CD, realizing too late that this was one of the animes he didn’t really like...

You were a bit confused at the offer though. “Um no thanks. It’s a total rip off of The Girl Whose Parents Time Travelled To the Past to Tell Her She Was a Princess.” Your response was automatic, looking at the CD as if you were bored.

Leviathan paused. “What?! Y-You noticed that too??” he questioned, tossing the CD back onto the ground where it originally was. “Finally someone who understands!! The heroine was almost a complete carbon copy, I can’t believe the studio got away with that!”

You nodded your head, a serious expression on your face. “What a let down. Besides, the original had a better soundtrack 100%.”

Leviathan almost jumped on you with excitement.

Apparently not even Leviathan knew how harsh of a critic he himself was. All that harsh judgement he does on animes and video games… Perhaps you being just as blunt would be new to him. You were somehow both one in the same.

All in all, Leviathan didn’t understand how much of a blessing having an honest person in his life could be. Especially as someone who doesn’t judge; your honesty never crossed the line into personal territory. 

Instead, you gave him an opportunity to gain feedback on animes that you two binge watch together

And for the first time in forever, Leviathan felt like he had someone to indulge in.

Satan

He really really enjoys this

Satan pegs me as the type of guy that would find humor in hearing your honest opinions--- and you notice that whenever you speak your mind towards Lucifer, you can briefly hear a quiet chuckle escaping Satan’s lips.

Of course, as mature as Satan is, it’s not that he actually finds what you say humorous; he just never thought he’d see the day where some mortal human would stand up to a group of demons as intimidating as they could be.

You remind him of himself in some ways… both of you unafraid to speak your minds and both of you able to stand up for what you truly believe in.

And because of this, he registers the fact that instead of going to Solomon or Asmodeus for opinions on his books or feedback for his many essays, he goes to you.

Especially when Satan needs proper and honest feedback from someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat it. And unlike Leviathan, Satan relishes in some proper assessments.

Satan feels more drawn to you than the rest of his brothers, coming up to you for some of his more diabolical actions--- like the many pranks he kept under his sleeve for Lucifer

“Do you think Lucifer will see this one coming?” he asked you casually, sliding you a piece of paper containing a scribbled down--- yet well thought-out and detailed scheme to cause trouble yet again.

You quirk up an eyebrow, glancing away from your phone and down towards the sheet of paper. With a small sigh, you decided to give in and at least entertain the idea. He just didn’t give up, huh?

“Hmmm… didn’t you try a plan like this similar to before?” you replied, eyes raking through the pencil marks.

“Have I?” he mumbled, leaning in to feign involvement. “Yes,” you answered, dropping the paper and acting like you didn’t need to see any more.

“And it didn’t work that time. I don’t think it’ll work this time either Satan. Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he grinned.

It’s not like it was just Satan who enjoyed your presence; you would grow increasingly more and more comfortable about voicing your opinions around him. There’s only one thing better than a straightforward honest person--- and that is someone who can actually appreciate the honesty

After you recognized that Satan truly does not get bothered by whatever is on the tip of your tongue, things only got better.

I can imagine late nights where you and Satan would stay up until your eyelids became like lead and you couldn’t continue without sleep. Those nights were filled with honesty and intelligence. He thought you had a beautiful mind. He wanted to hear every opinion that popped up in your head

Asmodeus

Hmmm… Asmodeus is a bit trickier. 

As an outward and bubbly extrovert, Asmodeus was bound to hear all types of opinions from all types of different people. And judging by his insane amount of confidence, he doesn’t let any of that negative energy affect him (He says it’s bad for his skin).

It’s not like you’d say anything mean to him to begin with, especially purposefully--- but I feel everyone takes criticism differently, and some take it to heart more than others

Considering you don’t fall for Asmodeus’s mind-controlling charm, your honest and blunt nature just adds the cherry to the cake on what kind of person you are. This just makes you more natural and pleasant to be around.

So instead, he makes his use of it, making sure to drag you along with every one of his shopping sprees around town.

You wouldn’t suck up to him, or brush off his hyper enthusiasm by simply saying ‘yes’ to everything--- much like his brothers do to him

“Y/N, Y/N, do you think this color will look good on me??” Asmodeus excitedly asks, holding up a beige scarf to his neck. Both of you couldn’t care less about the wandering eyes that followed trailed towards the loud demon of lust. “I think this color looks good on me, but definitely not with the outfit I’m wearing currently.”

You smile at his animated gestures, nodding your head in agreement. 

“I do think the color suits you, but didn’t you get a beige outfit a week ago? Maybe a cream color will look better,” you mention, shifting through the scarves on the rack.

Asmodeus pauses to pose in the mirror that was conveniently placed on the store wall. “You could be right~ I heard cream is more in style right now anyways. Thank you darling 💗.” 

Beelzebub

Beelzebub doesn’t even notice you’re more blunt and honest; like, he doesn’t isolate that as your special quality

Instead, he just thinks that that is how you were as a person.

Honestly, it’s quite cute.

Whenever he eats off of the plates of others, or realizes that he just vacuumed down the cookies that you were supposed to deliver to Luke, you don’t hesitate to voice your disapproval. 

“Beel, please don’t eat other people’s food. It’s not nice,” you reprimand gently, noticing that no other brother on the table was going to say anything to reprimand him.

He quietly gulps down the rest of the food that he had finished chewing in time. “Oh… sorry,” Beel mumbled, wiping the remaining crumbs of the cookies that he knew you worked on for Luke.

He didn’t even realize he reached over to take the food.. One moment his stomach grumbled hungrily, and then the next moment he smelled the cookies you had spent all morning baking.

Whenever he ate his brothers’ food, they would always sigh and complain to Lucifer about it---which in turn caused Lucifer to tell them to just grab some more.

He really really didn’t mean it…

You sighed quietly, grabbing a napkin off of the table to aid in ridding the crumbs all over his shirt. “It’s okay Beel. Try not to do it again, kay?” It looks like you needed to throw together another batch of cookies in order to get them delivered to Luke before it got too late.

You glanced behind you, watching as Beel followed you to the kitchen again. The redhead noticed your questioning glance, and he only grinned in reply.

“I’m going to help you make more. It’s the least I can do…” he said.

The gesture must have made you happy, because he could see you return the grin instantly.

Beelzebub also happens to be lowkey blunt in his own way, because while he may hold back in speaking a lot of the time, much of what he does say (besides things food-related) is actually quite honest. He isn’t afraid to tell people what he thinks about them, but on a much lower scale than you.

I think this mixture of two similar people is wonderful--- 

Remember how I said some people take honesty and criticism to heart more than others?? Well… Beel takes to heart what you say and attempts to fix anything he can within his power.

Belphegor

Ha ha ha… ahhh Belphegor. Okay correct me if I’m wrong, but he’d totally be the type to purposefully do things that would make you snap at him or cause you to be more blunt.

He always knew you were kind-- I mean, you were the one to help get him out of the miserable attic. You were also the one willing to deal with Mammon, so… ya know.

But his level of respect for you rose when the demon took note that you were no welcome mat. 

No one could step all over you, and for a human, that was damn impressive to him.

For example, the first time he had fallen asleep in a weird position in front of you was when you, Beel, and Belphie decided it would be fun to bake some muffins for everyone. He was assigned the role of mixing together the mix and well… he fell asleep.

While standing…

You quickly snapped him out of it, voicing your opinion on how it was not the time to be sleeping--- especially if these muffins were to be done before dinner

He liked getting your attention in that way though

Belphegor was another demon with thick skin, and yet another demon who also happens to be blunt and honest (probably one the most in the family)

“You look like shit,” he mumbled into his pillow, watching you trudge into the room tiredly. You had dark under eye circles, probably due to the lack of sleep you had within the past two days, and your hair was unkempt. The strands thrown about your head like a cyclone just hit you. Belphegor had heard that you were taking extra magic lessons with Satan and Solomon, and he only assumed this was a result.

You grunted, flopping down onto the bed right next to him.

“Well, you don’t look too good yourself. But I guess that’s what 10 hours of sleep will do to you,” you bit back, the words were a bit slurred and muffled due to your face plant on the bed.

He chuckled lightly, scooching over to toss his blanket over you.

Belphegor would ask about your little magic experience later on; the loads of opinions you probably had would make due for an interesting listen.

[winterscaptain]

players.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it's loving haley hotchner hours!! hope you enjoy :) as always, let me know what you think!

words: 1.3k warnings: none

summary: “what is that unforgettable line?” - samuel beckett. au!november 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Has Aaron ever told you how we met?” 

“I know you two met in high school, but that’s about the extent of it.” 

Haley laughs and puts her drink down. “You’re in for a real treat, then. Come with me.” 

It’s one of those afternoons in which Aaron’s taken Jack to go have some fun for a little while, leaving you and Haley at the house. It’s been nice to rest while your shoulder slowly knits together again, nice to chat and channel surf. Really, it’s been nice to have a friend at all. 

She leads you to the garage, where built-ins support stacked boxes all the way to the rafters. There’s so much stuff. A few boxes are on the floor, packed with a few George Washington University sweatshirts, a law textbook, and a few framed photos of Jack. 

You’d hazard a guess that’s close to the last box Aaron has here. 

Haley bypasses it in favor of a more aged box on the back. She becomes you over and unearths it, opening it. You are by no means prepared for what awaits you. 

The box is full of faded framed photos and stacked scrapbooks, some with Haley’s handwriting on the front and others with typeset. Haley pulls one scrapbook in particular, the pages warped with age and stuffed with various momentos. 

“This is the first one I ever made, starting the spring of my freshman year of high school. Aaron shows up…” She flips through the pages. They crackle under her fingers. “...here.” 

She turns the book and you take it in your hand, balancing the bottom while she bears the weight. As always, her thoughtful conscientiousness almost brings a smile to your face. 

In the scrapbook, little polaroids litter one side, while the other has a playbill cover. A “Players” page is pasted in, with two names left uncovered by doodles. 

Haley Renee Brooks

Aaron Hotchner 

One of the photos catches your eye. “Is that…?” 

“Aaron in tights and a pirate hat? Yes.” 

This is gold. 

You bring the book closer to you and flip through it carefully with Haley’s help, finding more evidence of Aaron’s brief stint as a thespian. He’s undeniably adorable as a teenager. He looks different, of course, but between the hair and the eyes - 

And that smile 

You recognize the man you’ve come to know. 

Haley, of course, is also adorable. The mid-eighties look cute on her. She looks mostly the same as she does now. Her jawline is more defined, the beginnings of smile lines starting to form around her eyes and mouth, but those are only indicators of the twenty-five years between the photo and the woman before you. 

“If you tell him I showed you this, no I didn’t.” 

You laugh, passing the book back to her. “Scout’s Honor. Total silence. I will, however, require copies of these for blackmail purposes.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Over my dead body, darling.” 

You look around for a moment before asking. “So… what exactly does that have to do with how you met?” 

“I prefer the way he tells it,” she says, “because when I tell it I look like I’m padding my ego, but…”

Her blue eyes wander as she tells you about the boy who landed in the wrong classroom on August 20th, 1985 at 2:13pm, as if she’s seeing it as she’s telling the story. Maybe she is. 

The nameless senior was tall, lanky, and looked rather brittle. He hadn’t grown into his limbs yet and there’s a hawkish look in his eye. He met Haley’s curious gaze. She smiled at him. 

It’s only a moment before the boy leaves for the right classroom. 

“He had the building number wrong. It’s no surprise, really. Our schedules were copied by hand, as copy machines were expensive. The guidance counselor’s handwriting was nearly illegible, but it sealed our fates.” 

She goes on to tell you that the boy came back the next day, enrolled in the class for the duration of the semester. 

“He then, bravely, became the worst third pirate in the history of theatre just to impress me.” She pauses, a little pensive. “He told me a couple of years ago that the day came into the wrong classroom was the same day he knew he was going to marry me.” 

The admission brings a flush to her cheeks and a fond smile to her lips. You can see the affection written all over her as she recalls the memory. She shakes her head and puts the scrapbook back, closing the box and leading you out of the garage. 

“We started dating when the show closed. It was silly, of course, and very high school, as relationships went. We only kept going because he was so close for college - just over the bridge into the district.” 

You follow her back into the house. “Did you guys ever break up?” 

She snorts. “All the time.” 

That makes you laugh. You can hardly picture it. 

“I’m sure you can imagine how rational and reasonable I was at sixteen,” she says, her voice full of jest. “I put him through hell, but Aaron was always impossibly patient with me, even and especially when I didn’t deserve it.” 

“Really?”

“Really. I know he’s probably...not that way at work, but even through all of this -” she gestures vaguely to the air around you and you know she means the divorce. “- he’s always been that way with me.” 

You’ve seen Hotch at home now more than a few times and it’s been illuminating to see the changes in him as he crosses the threshold. Reconciling those differences in him, knowing Haley better, it all paints a layered, detailed portrait of someone you already care about. 

Haley catches your attention again when she speaks. “I’m glad he has people watching out for him.” There’s a strange, almost sad, smile on her face. “He gets lonely.” 

+++

When Aaron pulls up in the driveway, you and Haley are stuck watching whatever movie you landed on when you got to talking, too attached to give it up. 

The door opens and Aaron sets Jack on his feet, helping him with the tiny zipper on his coat before attending to his own. 

“How was your day, boys?” Haley gets up and goes to the kitchen, where you know a little tupperware full of cut fruit waits for Jack.

You offer him a little wave as he catches sight of you and processes your presence. Hey. 

“Well,” he says. “How was your day, Jack? Want to tell Mom about it?” 

The pass-off is funny to you, but you suspect Aaron doesn’t want to oversell it. 

“So fun!” He runs and jumps onto the couch as Haley rounds the corner. 

Her eyes are bright, animated, when she asks, “What did you and Daddy do?” She sits next to her son, her feet pulled under her as she leans on the back of the couch. 

As Jack relays the events of the afternoon, there’s an odd moment when Aaron catches himself. He reaches down to ruffle Haley’s hair, but freezes with his hand outstretched. You can see the wheels turning in his head and you almost feel bad for catching him at all. 

HIs hand closes and he shoves it into his pocket before he sits down in the armchair beside your end of the couch with a sigh. You pretend to be completely focused on Jack, so as to not embarrass him. 

“So,” he asks you. You turn. “How was your day?” 

There’s a moment where you share a little look, maybe even a laugh. 

“Good. My day was good.” 

“Good.” 

+++

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