#there is a prequel in the works too that is named after another ghost and pals song (i had to die to survive)

[akuma-tenshi]

waves my silly arms around who wants to help me out ((descriptions of the fics under the cut))

context / descriptions of the fics:

To Discover, to Love, and to Be Set Free — Dragon Hunter x Fugitive, multi-chapter. The Dragon Hunter receives an invitation to participate in a gladiator-style arena as its newest fighter, overseen by an untouchable queen and her quiet warrior king. Over the course of his stay, he meets his fellow fighters and begins to discover the cracks in this seemingly-perfect kingdom's facade, becomes entangled with the king, and may even become the piece that makes it all fall apart.

Those Who Carried On — CoA7, multi-chapter. In a fungus-infected apocalyptic wasteland there are bunkers scattered about, built to keep the last vestiges of humanity safe and help them weather out the destruction. Frederick has been kept in one such bunker by his father, forbidden from leaving to see the sky. Struggling day in and day out for inspiration, he finally forms a plan with two other residents to escape and find freedom in the wastes. In the desolation, they meet allies, fight off the infection encroaching on the land... and perhaps even catch a glimpse of the brave new world beyond.

Starlit Steps — Seastar (Phantom Sail x Luminary), single chapter. It's been years since Frederick drowned while he was alone on the deck, but Emil still struggles with seeing him out there, so close to the railing. One wrong move and he'll find himself at the bottom of the sea again; and though Emil knows he won't die, the anxiety that churns in him never calms. Still, Frederick insists on staying out there, watching the seas for any sign of the mirage he caught sight of the night of his death. Emil wants to find a way to draw him away from his vigilant post — perhaps asking for a dance will help.

Eternity Awaits Us — Seastar (Phantom Sail x Luminary), single chapter. They've been together for a long time now, sailing the seas, exploring the world, nobody but each other to keep them company. They share a bed, share a life, have pledged eternity to each other without saying a word about it. All that's left to do now is seal the deal with a ring — over the years, Emil's become sure he wants to marry Frederick. Though... acquiring rings as a ghost with no source of income may be difficult. It's time he formulates a plan.

Life Hasn't Spared His Gentle Lover — Canon divergence / roommate AU, single chapter. It's a beautiful morning, and Emil's taking an opportunity to do some gardening. All the better when Frederick decides to join him, allowing Emil to help guide his hands and introduce him to his favourite hobby. Yet their peaceful morning "date" makes way for quiet contemplation of just what brought them to this point in their lives — and instills a new curiosity in Emil when he notices odd patterns of calluses on his lover's hands.

A Collection of Peculiar Dreams. — Frederick x Luminary, single chapter. Recently, Frederick has been having some strange dreams. Dreams about a peculiar pale-haired stranger with gentle, callused hands and eyes filled with scattered stars, clothes woven from the night sky and a smile that makes him melt. Yet each time he wakes, he's left grasping for any memory of his dream, of his nighttime visitor. The more he learns about his late-night lover, however, the more he begins to realise this stranger isn't so unfamiliar after all. (Does contain some NSFW scenes.)

[jazzyoranges]

Can you write a friends with benefits situation Wednesday or Tara has with gp reader? Wednesday or Tara enforces a no strings attach policy but of course reader has to catch feelings and admits their feelings. It freaks Tara/wednesday and causes her to push them away and ghost them effectively hurting the reader who after a while tries to rebound with another girl causing major jealousy from Tara/Wednesday. You can choose the ending I just wanna see some jealous smut and angst mix in there 😩

She’s my Collar

Wednesday Addams x fem!werewolf!reader

Words: 4.6k (whoopsies)

Warnings: gp!reader, definitely ooc Wednesday, heat cycles, unprotected sex, knotting, explicit smut, everyone is 18+, Wednesday calls you a mutt and a puppy, breeding kink, is it really pet play if you’re actually a pet?, italian/spanish pet names and phrases, possessive Wednesday, fluff, angst i think

A/n: so sorry it took so long for me to write this anon who requested 😓 could be read as a prequel to this fic, but not specifically written as one. also i kinda strayed away from the original request, sorry about that too 😭🫶

MINORS DNI!

Wednesday didn’t want to admit it, but she was feeling a certain emotion that was completely undesirable. You’ve been out sick for an entire week. Wednesday hadn’t seen you in the last 8 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes. But who was counting? Definitely not the Addams girl

Others would say Wednesday looked the same as any other week, but Enid’s roommate senses were tingling. Constantly fiddling with her rings, the very prominent scowl on her face that was meaner than usual, and the common frustrated grunts when Wednesday would make a mistake with her writing. Something was up, and not even god herself couldn’t stop Enid from figuring it out

While Wednesday was smart in every aspect except social, Enid’s people smarts came in useful every now and again. It really didn’t take long for her to piece two and two together. Angry roommate while someone she frequently hung out with was out sick? It was child’s play, really. All she needed to do was have Wednesday come to the same conclusion as her

Easier said that done, really. Wednesday was a knucklehead not so smart when it came to emotions. Any emotion other than creating despair, Wednesday struggled with. Luckily Enid was dedicated and also a knucklehead

Currently Wednesday was seated at her desk, simply staring at a blank piece of paper without moving. On any normal day her fingers would be speeding across the typewriter with ideas constantly coming to her. Now she was met with absolute digital silence from her mind, which proved to be discouraging and inconvenient to say the least

“Alright, Wednesday. What’s going on?”

“I have not a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been different this entire week. Spill the beans”

“As I’ve just said, I don’t have the information you want.”

“It’s because you haven’t seen her all week, right? You miss her, don’t you?”

“Why would I miss that mutt of a werewolf? I do not miss Y/n.”

“I never said her name, yet you know exactly who I’m talking about. Funny how that works, Wednesday” Enid teases. Her roomie has been caught red handed

“If you want your tongue, I’d recommend you stop talking.”

“Cmon, Wednesday, I’m being serious. It’s not weird to miss a friend. How about you check up on her?”

“First, I do not miss her. Second, she is definitely fine. I do not need to check up on her.”

“She’s been out sick for an entire week. She texted me just today the sickness isn’t showing any signs of stopping”

“Why has she not called the nurse, then?”

“She told me they ran out of the medicine she needs. The sickness is werewolf specific. I’ve gotten it before and it hurt like a bitch without medicine”

“What kind of school clinic runs out of medicine?” Wednesday says under her breath while getting up. Presumably to check on you, Enid assumes

“It’s really high in demand right now. It only infects werewolves, so you won’t catch it”

“I suppose I’ll ask Y/n on the specifics of her current condition. Perhaps it could be a part in my writings.”

“I’m sure it will be, Wednesday. Tell me how it goes!” Enid waves goodbye to Wednesday as she exits, and the Addams misses her roommates wolfish grin

Luckily your dorm isn’t too far away from Ophelia hall but it’s still a considerable walk to and from. The walk there gives Wednesday enough time to really question why she was doing this. She did not care for you, that was most definitely certain. At least that’s what Wednesday kept telling herself when she neared your room

The Addams girl hesitated before she knocked on your door. She could hear you whimpering and whining in pain, your tail quickly thumping against your bed. The shorter girl bit the bullet and held her fist against the door, quickly knocking on it

“Open up, Y/n or I’ll be forced to axe down your door.”

“Go away, Wednesday” Your voice was muffled

“Either I pick your lock or you open this door. Make your decision.”

Wednesday hears your feel shuffle to the door, and you open it just enough for your eye to peek out. Wednesday immediately notices your flushed skin and dark eye bags. You’re only wearing a tank top and boxers, trying to hide your lower body behind the door

“What do you want?” You spit out a bit more aggressively than you mean to

“I’ve come to check up on your illness”

“I’m uh- I’m okay. You can go now, Wednesday”

“You obviously aren’t, you haven’t gone to your classes all week.”

“Listen, I’m not actually sick. If I tell you what’s actually happening, promise you won’t freak out?”

“I promise.”

You suck in a breath to calm your nerves. “I’m in heat. The school clinic ran out of suppressants, so I haven’t been able to come to classes”

Wednesday looked you up and down, and in a split second she felt something she hadn’t before. Something about how your wolfish features came out. Ears were pressed against your head, tail hung low and swaying softly, and Wednesday noticed your fangs poke out when you spoke

“Let me help you.”

“W-What?” You momentarily stoped holding the door, and Wednesday let herself inside. Wednesday was immediately hit with a musk that was so… you. Werewolves weren’t her major, but she could tell you’ve marked your entire room with your own scent. Something about it made Wednesday’s mind think of all the unspeakable things she wanted to do to you

“Uh, sorry for the mess. And sorry for the smell, I know it’s bad…” You shift on your feet, and it’s only then Wednesday notices the tent in your boxers. Quickly mumbling out apology after apology, you move your tail so it covers your growing erection

“Stop apologizing, it’s getting quite annoying. I said I’d help you, did I not?”

“Help me like..?”

“Yes. Help you as in having sexual intercourse”

Your cheeks flush red and you have to actively stop your tail from wagging in excitement. Wednesday takes a step closer, but you take a step back

“A-Are you sure? You’re human, and I’m a werewolf. Your body isn’t designed to handle our heats”

Wednesday takes another step closer to you, grabbing your neck to make you look straight in her eyes. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your throat

“I decide what I can handle.” The shorter girl firmly gropes at your clothed erection, and you moan at the contact

“Wednesday, I-”

“A dumb puppy is what you are. Why didn’t you tell me you were in heat?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d care” When Wednesday starts to massage your clothed cock more roughly, she earns another moan out of your throat

“Please, please make it better, Wednesday. It hurts so fucking much” You whimper, and Wednesday wonders if you’d look good in a collar with her name on it. She’d have to save that idea for a different day.

“Puppy.”

“Wednesday?”

“Take everything off. I want to see all of you.”

Wordlessly, you start to strip, which doesn’t take long since you’re barely wearing any clothes. Your mindless obedience made Wednesday happy. You start with your tank top and the Addams chooses to observe every part of you. Wednesday notices you’re considerably more furry than usual, your happy trail showing just above your boxer briefs

“Are you sure?” You ask nervously when you reach your boxers, and Wednesday is getting considerably more impatient

“Do I have to do everything for you?” Wednesday mutters while she takes off your boxers instead. The shorter girl sucks in a breath when your hardened cock slaps against your stomach

Wednesday didn’t expect you to be so… lewdly big. Looking at the size of your erection only reminded her your body was meant to breed. You were designed to reproduce, and the thought turned Wednesday on more than she liked

The shorter girl pushes you onto your bed, and she takes a second to look at the state you’re in

“Please, Wednesday…” You whine

“Be patient, Y/n. You’ll get there eventually”

“It hurts so much, please I can’t wait” Begging harder, Wednesday doesn’t likehow her first instinct is to give you what you want

“You’re lucky I tolerate you. If you were any other person, I’d think this was dehumanizing.” She pushes you further back, licking a stripe up your tip and across a vein. You have to stop yourself from cumming embarrassingly quick

Wednesday keeps giving your shaft long kitten-licks and you’re in heaven when she finally decides to suck your tip with a new type of hunger.

And due to previous attempts at suppressing your heat by yourself, your cock was absolutely raw at how much you masturbated. It only made Wednesday’s tongue feel even better

She hollows out her cheeks, making your tip hit the back of her throat. This earns a groan from the back of your throat. You didn’t know if touching was allowed due to her track record of broken arms and hands, so you decide to play it safe by just holding onto your bedsheets for dear life

“F-Fuck, I’m about to-“ Before you can finish your sentence, Wednesday pulls away from your cock. The look on your face is something Wednesday would like to cherish. Your penis was twitching like crazy. It was drooling with pre-cum and the shorter girls saliva. She couldn’t help but admire how you shook under her

“Why’d you stop?” Whining seemed to be a strong suit of yours

“In me.” Wednesday wipes a bit of her saliva off her chin, and you swear it’s the most attractive thing ever “Now.”

“Huh?”

“You know what I mean. Really, do I always have to spell it out for you?”

“You have to cut me some slack here, Wens…”

“I suppose I could provide an understanding for your view. You’re nothing but a dumb pup, are you not? Your kind is known to follow orders.”

“I think you’re confusing me with a domesticated dog, Wednesday”

“If I were to demand you pluck stars from the night, you would, would you not?”

“I mean I would, but for different reasons…”

“My point still stands.” Wednesday mumbles, sinking down on your erection. You don’t remember when she got naked, but you’re also not exactly complaining

The Addams holds onto your shoulders for support, and you hesitate before putting your hands on her hips. Luckily you made the right choice, your warm hands directly polar to Wednesday’s.

It takes a little effort for Wednesday to completely take in your cock, but the stretch is worth it when she sees your labored breathing like she’s the best pussy you’ve ever had. Which, Wednesday wouldn’t admit she was proud of. She could feel every vein on your cock and every twitch made her spiral into thoughts of you

The sight is funny, you think. The Wednesday Addams is impaled on your cock. The Wednesday Addams that saved Nevermore. The Wednesday Addams that was notorious for being gorgeously scary. That Wednesday Addams was riding your dick like her life depended on it.

Skin slapping together was music to your ears, and the feeling in your lower stomach you recognized well was rapidly building up. Wednesday came with a hitch in her breath, and you reluctantly pulled out before releasing your own cum with a groan. Both of you are left breathing hard.

“There will be a silver bullet in your skull if you so much as think about telling anyone about this.” Wednesday mutters in between breaths.

“Duly noted.”

—

You’ve been in this arrangement with Wednesday for about 4 months, now

The first month consisted of a casual fuck here and there. After a particularly hard week, teachers being annoying, or a hard test. It wasn’t difficult to keep your situation away from your friends. For all they knew, you two were still the platonic match-made-in-hell duo that were strictly friends

The second month was a little harder to keep your situation away from your friends. Wednesday would randomly pull you into any empty closet or classroom she could for a quick orgasm to get her through the day

The third month was rough. You two went on dates as you liked to call it, but Wednesday would call them study sessions or hangouts. Trips to Jericho on the weekend, Wednesday helping you with botany, it was practically impossible to separate both of you. Unfortunately your friends became suspicious

So during the fourth month, a new vampire transferred to Nevermore. You were assigned to give her a tour of the school and her classes. When Wednesday saw you two hang out when you’d usually see the Addams, she suspected the tour went better than anticipated. What Wednesday expected to be a minor inconvenience for one day, caused her many unwanted thoughts. It made a vein pop out of her neck. (not literally, but that’s what it felt like)

Wednesday noticed how you two started spending more time together after and during school. Of course there was definitely a reasonable explanation, you were her only friend. Unfortunately a very minuscule part of her brain is telling her you like the new vampire more than the Addams. The thought didn’t sit right with her

You were supposed to be Wednesday’s. You were supposed to only have eyes for the Addams and not some vampire that doesn’t even make you half as happy as her. You would always be Wednesday’s. When you finally realized the vampire wasn’t enough to satiate your needs, Wednesday would be there. She would be there to catch your fall, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

Wednesday Addams, a feared individual that wore her heart tucked under enough layers of blunt sarcasm and a deathly scary look, yet once glance from you sent her spiraling into something between fear and love. She hated it. She hated you. Wednesday hated you for bringing this side out of her she swore to be kept away from the surface of her character.

The Addams couldn’t afford this. You were her weakness. You definitely knew this as well. Unwanted doubt flooded her mind. Thoughts that ended up with you exploiting her only weakness made her heart ache, and not in a way she enjoyed.

You would end up breaking off your relationship with the Addams, leaving her to be made a fool as you were the only one that could do it. The worst part is Wednesday couldn’t even be angry with you. She knew you deserved someone of your own kind. Another werewolf that would understand and satiate your needs. Wednesday would end the arrangement the next time she saw you.

—

“(L/n).”

“Wednesday?” You open up your door with a smile on your face. A sight for sore eyes is what you were.

“We cannot continue our arrangement.”

“What? What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Wednesday wished she could take back her words, but she was doing this to keep herself safe. To make you happy.

“Our late night meetings can no longer continue. I’ve grown uncomfortable with your presence.”

“Wednesday, I-“

“A nuisance is what you are. You’re needy, and you can’t do anything by yourself. You really are just a dumb mutt. You are incapable of doing anything except cling to me like a lost child.” Wednesday spits out, and something akin to regret dawns on her face

Stray tears leave your eyes and you wipe them up as quickly as they fall, but Wednesday notices. She can tell you’re trying to be strong, your quivering lip giving you away

“I’m- I’m sorry you feel that way, Addams.” You say before turning your back on Wednesday, closing the door. Broken sobs escape your throat, and Wednesday brings her hand up to your doorknob. She thinks a little longer before a single tear falls from her eye. She turns to leave instead.

—

Three weeks, nearing four since you’ve last talked to Wednesday. You’ve been out for a week and a half and Wednesday knows exactly why. Since the Addams has been helping with your heats for the past few months, you haven’t needed to request for more suppressants. Neither you nor Wednesday knew why your heats were commonly hell-ish and lasted for weeks without the suppressants you desperately needed

Really, she could picture you right now. You would’ve found the boxers that created the least amount of friction, and you’d be whimpering and whining while your tail rapidly thumped against the bed mattress. Finding the nearest thing to bite, which usually happened to be your bed frame, you’d sink your teeth into the cold wood and find a splinter on your tongue the next time you brushed your teeth. Rinse and repeat until you eventually fell asleep or Wednesday saved you from your own body

It was pathetic how much you constantly needed Wednesday…and consequently, how much Wednesday needed you.

Disgusting is the only word Wednesday can choose when thinking of how much space in her mind you took up. She was seated in the Quad while eating an apple and contemplating her life. Which, was not in an ideal situation.

“I know you want to talk to her, Wednesday” Enid takes a seat near the shorter girl

“I do not.”

“I know for a fact you didn’t mean what you said. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn to realize it”

“She has that new girl, does she not?”

“For the last time, Wednesday, they aren’t dating”

“They may as well be. The two are practically attached at the hip”

“So were you two, but then you decided to fuck it all up and haven’t talked to her since” Enid groans. This is was going to be harder than she thought

“Wednesday, you know how much I love you, right?”

“Annoyingly so.”

“Not-so-respectfully, you fucked up really bad. I know you didn’t mean it, but would you rather see her kiss another girl, or would you rather be the girl she kisses?”

The question makes Wednesday hesitate, and relief washes over Enid. Did she want to be with you? She mentally scoffs at the thought. The Wednesday Addams uncharacteristically soft for a girl. Outrageous. Disgusting. Absolutely unheard-

“Well, it seems you have your answer. Talk to her right now, ‘kay?” Enid knew her roomie would do the right thing even if it was gut wrenchingly difficult

The shorter girl only responds with a grumble, but it’s enough of an answer for Enid to skip away and continue being the social butterfly she was. Wednesday was going to… apologize to you. Just thinking of the word made her recoil, but it was you she was going to. As much as Wednesday didn’t like apologizing, she didn’t want to admit the thought of being away from you any longer was the worse option

She was almost in the same exact situation almost five months ago. Only this time you were sad, and it was Wednesday’s job to make you feel better (in more ways than one)

It didn’t take long getting to your dorm. She knew all of the correct routes and shortcuts to take. Wednesday was met with a tightly locked door and a knob that had collected dust after the past week and a half. She brought a hand to the door, knocking loudly

The Addams was only met with silence. That is, silence, with the exception of stray whines and whimpers

“It’s Wednesday.” Silence again.

“I know you’re in there. Ignore me and I’ll find other means to see you.” More silence

“You’ve made your decision.” The shorter girl sighs, taking a lock pick from her uniform pocket. Why she had a lock pick? For important situations like these, of course

When Wednesday finally managed to unlock your door, she noticed how you looked considerably worse than the first time the Addams decided to help you with your heat

What Wednesday didn’t expect was you fully naked sprawled on your bed. Bite marks littered your bed frame and a chew toy Wednesday bought to mock you, but it ended up being somewhat helpful. A low quality fan spun, only making your scent waft around the room even more. An air freshener was mentally added to her list of things to buy

“Go away, Wednesday.” You growled. You never growled. “If you’re here to mock me and call me a nuisance, I’d recommend you leave”

“I came to help.”

“You’ve full of bullshit, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lying, Y/n.”

“Go away, Wednesday, I’m not going to say it again.” The Addams only took this as an invitation to step closer to your bed where you were laying face down and a light blanket to cover your ass

When you only heard footsteps near, something inside you snapped. You were a werewolf. Not a puppy that said please with a tail between your legs. No, you would make Wednesday leave. Also you were sexually frustrated while in heat, so that was definitely fuel to your sour mood

Before she could register what had happened, you pinned the smaller girl to the floor. Your pupils contracted into small circles while there was a permanent snarl on your face

“I said, go away.” Your erection accidentally brushes against Wednesday’s thigh, and she was suddenly aware of how much self control you had for not already relentlessly stuffing the shorter girl full of your cum

“Knot me, cucciola.”

When the words leave Wednesday’s mouth, something in you changes. You’re overcome with sinful thoughts, and your cock starts to drool with precum at the image of Wednesday being full of you. It’s sinful, truly

“Is that why you came here? Just to be bred?”

“No, but it seems my words are working. You’re incredibly hard.” The shorter girl grabs your erection, jerking you off roughly

“Puppy.”

“Don’t… don’t call me that.” You say in between moans. Wednesday starts to sit up, and your back meets the side of your bed frame

“Cucciola wants to breed?”

“F-Fuck you.”

“We’re getting there, mi sol” The pet name accidentally slips, but you’re far too blissed out to notice

“She can’t make you feel as good as me, can she?”

“W-What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who. The vampire that can’t get her hands off you.”

“Wednesday, we’re no-“ The shorter girl only started to stroke you faster. Her hand barely fit around your cock, but it still felt like heaven

“I don’t- I don’t like her that way” You say in between moans. Your orgasm was nearing and Wednesday knew this. She slowed down her pace, and you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation

“Knot me.”

“Huh?”

“Show me you don’t like her the way you like me.” You only notice your proximity after she speaks. Your noses are only inches apart. Wednesday’s eyes flick down to your lips, and you quickly close the distance

Wednesday was an addiction. Nicotine, acid, weed, none of it compared to how you felt while kissing Wednesday. You’d get drunk off her taste and crave it until she was in your arms once again. It was hell without her

When the shorter girl accidentally grinds on you, a surge of lust runs through your body. You quickly pick her up with your lips still attached to hers and take off her skirt. You couldn’t go another second without being in Wednesday

Sinking her onto your hardened erection, you let out a gasp of pleasure when her velvety walls stretch at your intrusion. You’re holding up her body by her thighs, and Wednesday just wishes you’d go faster.

“Cucciolo, ti amo.” The Addams moans when she looks down to see she’s only taken half of your length in her pussy. The sight is rather lewd, Wednesday thinks. Your cock is absolutely dripping with pre-cum when you push yourself further in her

“Mierda. Más, cachorro. Tan bueno para mi.” Wednesday slips into her native tongue. You haven’t seen her like this any other time she’s… helped you out

Bringing your lips to hers again, you decide to be in control when you push your tongue into her mouth. Eyes half lidded, bangs sticking to her forehead, and hair a bit disheveled, you think she’s never been prettier.

You let Wednesday rest a bit before sinking your cock deeper into her cunt, and the Addams ends up scratching you hard enough small amounts blood start to drip down your back. The sensation takes you by surprise. Accidentally bucking your hips up further into Wednesday, the girl lets out a groan as she fully takes your length in her pussy.

Placing her on the bed, you notice a tiny bulge in her stomach. You decide to be bold. Pressing your thumb against the intrusion, you hear a sound you’ve never heard before

Wednesday whimpers at your touch.

You do it again.

Her cunt squeezes around your cock, making it harder for you to keep thrusting. But you’re a wolf in heat and Wednesday is incredibly horny, so you continue your movements.

“Sh-She’ll never- she’ll never be as good as you, Wens…” An unexpected growl comes from deep within your throat

“No one can take my cock as good as you…” You’re thrusting considerably faster when Wednesday looks back down at where you two meet. The scenario folding out is a sight for sore eyes, the Addams thinks. You, feeding into your primal urges like it’s an unstoppable beast; and Wednesday willingly taking it in however she can.

“Cara mia.”

“Mine… mine all mine. No one else but mine…” You whimper a little pathetically, but the girl below you is only focused on your thrusts. Her cold hands find their way to your back again, leaving a trail of blood behind

“Yours, puppy. All yours.” Wednesday feeds into your possessive behavior. She knows she shouldn’t, but with you thoughts of reason leave her head and are replaced with thoughts of you

“Were you serious about the knotting, Wens?”

“Deathly.”

“Are you- mph~ sure? It’s kinda big…” The girl under you looks down again, and your ever growing knot seems to just be getting bigger and bigger. Even horny out of your mind, you still wanted to make sure your mate was alright.

…you decide to ignore that thought.

Your eyes were trained on how your erection stretched out Wednesday. Her pussy would be yours, and yours alone. Nobody would make her feel as good as you did. You’d make sure she wouldn’t need anyone else’s cock but yours.

A breathy moan erupts from your throat when you start to actively try to push your knot into Wednesday

“Relax for me Wens, it’ll never go in unless you want it too” You feel her tensed under your touch, but your words are enough for her to relax

Every thrust you get closer, until you eventually start to reach your peak. You can tell Wednesday is too. Her hair is messy and both of your bodies are littered with marks of possession.

“I-I’m so close Wens…” Are the last words you say before succeeding in pushing your knot into the Addams girl. You cum inside of Wednesday’s pussy, and the swell of your knot inside her is enough for Wednesday to cum impaled on your cock. The feeling of being full is an experience Wednesday wished she did with you far sooner.

You wiggle your hips to seemingly get more comfortable inside of Wednesday, but the movement only makes her moan. She was sensitive as hell.

“…was that enough proof I like you more than I like her?”

“More than enough, (Y/n).”

[luthien-under-bough]

Daemyra Masterlist🖤🔥❤️

WIPs

i got a bad desire (baby i'm on fire) - rated E, chapters 17/?, ~102,000 words, modern westeros au, in which a one-night stand means Daemon might actually be Rhaenyra's father, dead dove: do not eat

the ghosts that we knew - rated T (for now), chapters 2/?, ~7330 words, modern au where Rhae (Rhaenyra Targaryen, but not THAT Rhaenyra) encounters the ghost of Daemon Targaryen on Dragonstone

we open our throats to sing - rated E, chapters 3/?, ~43,000 words, No Dance canon divergence, where Rhaenyra runs away to Volantis, and Daemon goes to find her

milk teeth - rated E, chapters 5/?, ~32,000 words, No Dance canon divergence, Daemyra early marriage, breastfeeding/lactation kink & character study on Rhaenyra's relationship with motherhood

augurs of spring - rated E, chapters 2/3, ~15,000 words, Old Valyria AU inspired by The Mists of Avalon

give me your ecstasy - rated E, chapters 3/?, ~12,300 words, modern AU with magic, Daemon returns from along deployment with a special gift for Rhaenyra

AUs

won't be satisfied 'til i'm under your skin - rated E, chapters 2/2, 25,367 words, modern AU, role reversal where Rhaenyra is Daemon's aunt

ain't nobody hurt you like i hurt you - rated E, chapters 6/6, ~31k words, modern au, in which Daemon & Rhaenyra cheat on their respective spouses with one another (angst with a happy ending)

something borrowed - rated E, 6353 words, a prequel oneshot to 'ain't nobody hurt you like i hurt you' that takes place on the day of Rhaenyra's wedding to Harwin Strong

better not touch (i want it too much) - rated E, chapters 7/7, ~31k words, modern westeros au, Rhaenyra comes to Dragonstone to stay with Daemon for the summer while her father is away on holiday

fledgling - rated E, 7900 words, King Daemon/Dark Daemon AU, where Daemon inspects Rhaenyra before her bedding ceremony

acquisition - rated E, 6700 words, modern corporate AU where Rhaenyra is CEO, and Daemon is her executive assistant - but outside of work Daemon is her Dom.

mama told me there'll be days like this - rated T, 5600 words, modern AU, Rhaenyra is determined to have a terrible time at her dad's wedding to Alicent, but she can't seem to stay in a foul mood when Uncle Daemon is around

Canon Divergences/Episode Fix-Its

for our blood is restless - rated M, ~1200 words, alt ep 4 where Daemon stays at the brothel

i found some hate for you, just for show - rated T, ~2400 words, alt ep 5 where Rhaenyra leaves the wedding feast with Daemon

down on my knees, with unquenchable thirst - rated E, ~5300 words, post-ep 4 canon divergence where Rhaenyra returns to the brothel

do you feel the hunger? - rated M, ~6400 words, alt ep 3 where Daemon joins the name day hunt

Character Studies

do you really feel alive without me - rated M, 3500 words, two-shot examining events of ep 6 from Daemon's and Rhaenyra's POV

viventes enim - rated M, ~1280 words, Daemon introspection/character study during the events of ep 6-7

the likes of a darkness so deep - rated M, ~3500 words, Major Character Death, Daemon introspection/character study during an alt ep10 where Rhaenyra dies in childbirth (cw: necrophilia)

Shameless Smut

penitent - rated E, ~3400 words, Dom!Daemon finds a new use for the small council orbs

squeeze and bind - rated E, 4625 words, Dom!Daemon ties up Rhaenyra after another small council meeting

kiss me hard before you go - rated E, ~2300 words, Divorced!Daemyra have some hate sex, modern AU

deep tissue - rated E, ~4,000 words, massage therapist Daemon, modern AU

stay wrecked and jealous for this - rated E, 4,315 words, Rhaenyra goes to the Westeros version of the Warped Tour and hooks up with band manager Daemon, modern AU

seven blessings - rated E, 3700 words, CNC roleplay with Rhaenyra dressed as a septa

Fluff & Humor

farsighted - rated M, 1200 words, modern AU, Daemon confronts the harsh reality of aging and needing glasses

Naked Attraction: The Lost Episode - Not Rated, ~4000 words, crackfic written as an episode transcript for a "lost episode" of the UK dating show Naked Attraction, where Rhaenyra is the contestant

Prompt Fills

>> Events

Summer of Dove Prompt Event - prompt fics written for Fire, Blood & Kink's dead dove event (summer 2023)

Hot[Daemyra] Summer Snippets & Stories - prompt fics written for the HotD Summer Snippets & Stories prompt event (july 2023)

>> Other

BYOM; or, Bring Your Own Mistletoe - rated E, 7725 words, no specific prompt, but a general holiday-themed fluff & smut fic to get me into the Christmas spirit, modern au

my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder - rated M, 1000 words, prompt: the song Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley

best laid plans - rated G, 500 words, prompt: flight cancellation

your lips, my lips (apocalypse) - rated M, 500 words, prompt: holiday party hookup

meet me under the mistletoe - rated T, 500 words, prompt: bringing home a fake SO for the holidays + mistletoe

if the fates allow - rated T, 500 words, prompt: “Through the years we all will be together / if the fates allow”

Background Daemyra

like light refracted - rated E, 23,765 words, Daemyra x Aegon II ep8 canon divergence

the comforts of home - rated E, ~4300 words, Daemyra x Baelon (Daemon's father) threesome

nothing so undoing as a daughter - rated T, ~1200 words, Viserys POV after he learns of Daemyra's secret wedding

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 7 - Obsession

Surprise! I haven't forgotten that this story exists lol. This piece takes place immediately after Cadence's first captivity, before she moves and changes her name and hair, so it's a prequel to the main canon. If you're new to this series, it does sound like I'm implying noncon a couple of times in this, but Oliver does not do noncon.

Taglist: @justplainwhump , @whump-ventures

Masterlist

No. 7: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Contains: lady whump, long term captivity, conditioned whumpee, stalker, creepy/intimate whumper, fear of recapture

.

.

He’d let her go.

He’d let her go, and Cadence still can’t figure out why. Days and weeks and months of pain and torment and making sure that she knows without a doubt, in nearly every possible way, that she belongs to him, then he just…let her go.

It doesn’t make sense.

It has to be some kind of trick, right? There’s no way he’s done with her. He didn’t grow tired of her, he was still doing the same exact things up until this morning, including whispering in her ear how perfect she is and how she’ll always be his. In fact, he told her as he was dropping her off in the middle of this unfamiliar street that he’d see her again soon.

So it can’t be over. He’s watching her somehow right now, she has no doubt. This is just another one of his games. She never expected him to go this far, to actually let her outside the warehouse where he’s been keeping her all of this time, but he does love his games. Loves to find new ways to mess with her head, to watch her struggle and attempt in vain to hold on to the tiny little slivers of hope and dignity that she has left, only to fall further into his clutches each time.

This time, she gets the feeling he wants to build up her hope. He wants her to believe that she’s actually free, so that he can laugh and feel more powerful than ever when he swoops back in and snatches her up again.

Well, she doesn’t believe it. She’s not going to believe it, ever. He did his job well, she knows who she belongs to, it’s carved into her skin and the deepest recesses of her mind. There’s absolutely no way that he’ll leave her alone for long.

So she walks aimlessly, waiting for him to appear. The sun is far too bright, too warm. She hasn’t even seen the sun in…how long has it been, anyway? It doesn’t matter, because it isn’t over. She’s going back any minute now. There’s no need to count the days, to think about what could be, to try and find anyone to tell her story to. She knows better. If she tells anyone, they meet the same fate as her. 

A car drives by, and Cadence nearly jumps out of her skin. She nearly forgot that life existed out here, in the real world. That people were still driving around, going to work, running errands, going home to their families and friends and sleeping soundly in their own beds every night. She used to have that kind of life, too. She doesn’t remember what it was like, anymore.

The farther she walks, the noisier it gets, and she flinches at each sound. Every car she expects to be his. Every corner she passes, she’s sure he’s waiting around. 

Instead, she finds herself wandering alone down a street she actually recognizes. These stores and restaurants are ones she’s been to before. Back when she had a normal life. Back before she belonged to him. 

A real, live person passes her on the sidewalk, wrinkling their nose and eyebrows in her direction. She knows why. He likes to show her herself in the mirror. She looks like a ghost. She feels like a ghost, haunting her own past.

Cadence turns onto a quieter street and keeps waiting for him to show up. Only, he doesn’t. The too-bright, too-warm sun begins sinking behind the distant skyscrapers, but she’s still alone. This is lasting much longer than she’d expected. Then again, his games aren’t meant to be easily understood, and he has no reason to worry about leaving her out here. He knows just how well trained she is. He’s confident in his work, confident that she’ll behave even without his constant presence.

Darkness falls. She has no energy left, didn’t really have any when she started walking hours ago, but she doesn’t know what else to do. It’s only when she realizes she’s been slowly edging her way toward her old apartment that she realizes that’s probably where he is. He knows where it is, after all. He showed her pictures one time of himself inside of it - lying in her bed, sitting on her couch, eating at her table. That has to be it. He’s waiting on her to give in, to go home, to decide he’s not coming back and try to go back to life before him.

So that’s what she does. There’s no use fighting it. She’s not enjoying any of this taste of freedom, anyway, she might as well end this game as soon as possible so that she doesn’t have to suffer through the anticipation anymore. Doing what he wants is always the best solution.

It hurts, dragging herself up the stairs to the second floor apartment, but she arrives at the door and stares for a long moment. Her floral wreath is still on the door, her worn welcome mat sitting neatly underneath it. She’d half expected someone else to have moved in. Why hasn’t someone else moved in? Yes, she knew he’d been here at some point partway through her time with him, so it was clearly still hers then, but it hadn’t clicked until now that she hasn’t been paying rent for quite some time and there’s no reason she shouldn’t have been evicted. 

It has something to do with him, she’s sure. 

She has no key. If he dropped her off close enough for her to walk here and made sure that it still belonged to her, though, then he must have intended for her to get inside. She tries the knob, it’s locked. Stooping down with a cringe and hitched breath, she looks underneath the mat. Sure enough, there’s a brass key. 

The apartment is dark, and smells musty. Her heart is in her throat, waiting for him to step out and smile at her. She waits a moment in the darkness, then reaches over with a shaking hand and flips the light on, wincing at the sudden brightness. Almost immediately she turns it back off, then back on again. One is too dark, the other too bright. But she’d rather be able to see him coming, so on it stays. 

All of her things are still here. Besides the thick layer of dust, it looks exactly like she left it. Over there is the kitchen and the small table where he sat and ate his meal. Closer by is the sofa where he lounged, propping his feet on the coffee table. In the next room is the queen sized bed that he laid across, resting his head on the pillow. 

That’s probably where he’s waiting now. She walks in, heart pounding, and flicks that light on, too. But it’s empty. Her bed is made, her empty glass still sitting on the bedside table. She goes to the bathroom, there’s nothing there. Checks the closets, the back deck, under the bed and inside the shower, moving quickly and frantically now. 

He’s not here. She was sure he would be here waiting for her.

But again, he has all the power. Of course it wouldn’t be anything that she would expect. He’ll be here, though. He’ll come back for her. She belongs to him. She’ll never be free of him, he told her so. Refusing to get her hopes up is the only way that she can beat him, even if it does mean she’s playing right into his hand by continuing to believe everything he says about her.

It really doesn’t matter what she does. He always wins.

She might as well sit and rest a little while she waits for him. She looks at the bed, then the couch, then picks a spot against the living room wall to sink to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. 

He’ll be back soon.

[dvzaiosamu]

Ao3 fanfic recommendations and name ideas por fanfics — bsd

Again, yes... I apologize. I swear I'm not doing more, I'll post in a future, so I don't bother yall with these so much.

It's the same as the other two parts! Only that I'm also giving fanfic name ideas for yall to make wonderful stories. If yall take some name ideas for fanfic, I'd want to take a look at them! Of course, I don't force any of you, but if some of you wish to, you can send me the link in my inbox.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION.

Dark is the Night — [fyodor x reader]

Summary: Winter, 1942. Stalingrad is no longer a town but a hellscape of destruction. By day clouds of smoke rise from the rubble into the frigid sky, burning and blinding. When night arrives it falls scorching and howling, an inferno of cold. Slow victory is measured not by meters, city blocks or even buildings but by bodies.

Night arrives and you are not sleeping. Neither is he. In the gloom of the shelled warehouse basement, a long narrow room lit only by dimmed lanterns and the occasional meager campfire, his eyes find yours.

A stranger to the squad, but that’s not unusual in the chaos that is Stalingrad. His hair is not close-cropped but dark and lank, falling across a handsome, pale face in which odd magenta eyes glow. His clothing, too, is not standard-issue Red Army but tall soft boots and a dark, fur-trimmed cape. Again, nothing unusual. Here, men do what it takes to keep warm in the brutal conditions.

“Your hat,” he whispers across the narrow corridor from where you are propped on opposite sides, careful not to wake the sleeping soldiers that surround you. He touches his head, drawing your attention to the white ushanka you are wearing. “It looks very warm.”

Summer Watercolours — [fyolai]

Summary: Nikolai paints rocks and hides them around the beach, Fyodor visits during the summer and hates the heat but the colourful rocks catch his eye.

(Prequel to Summer Waves, another fanfic I wrote)

Summer Waves — [soukoku]

Summary: Osamu Dazai leaves for college but never forgets his beloved Chuuya Nakahara.

Prayers of Impermanence — [soukoku]

Summary: As a temple master, he has recieved a lot of strange requests over the years. This particular client is the strangest of them all. After all, why would anyone actually went to be haunted by ghosts?

[or: POV Outsider, Post-Beast. Chuuya wants to be haunted by Dazai's ghost]

If I called your name, would you even answer? — [soukoku]

Summary: After a year of dating and living together, Dazai feels deeply neglected when Chuuya starts spending more and more time away from him.

Could it be that Chuuya is bored of him? Has he found another partner? Or…is it something completely different?

A mask is sinking in the sea fog — [soukoku]

Summary: Cheap cigarettes burn in a blue fog, giving free rein to secrets and sincerity.

For You I'd Catch Every Cold — [fyolai]

Summary: Growing up in the cold winters of Ukraine, Nikolai was unfortunately good friends with the common cold. He absolutely hated getting sick but it was an unavoidable curse that came with living in the northern lands. Even after his chance meeting with the mysterious man known as Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the seasonal flu continued to plague his life. But perhaps it wasn’t as bad as he previously thought-

A sort of ‘through the years’ look at the relationship between Nikolai and Fyodor and their propensity to get sick.

Based on a lovely Tik-Tok by @fruit_chus!

FANFIC NAME IDEAS.

Ceasefire of Hostility.

Sin and Sinuous.

Hot Summer afternoon.

Taste of Heaven.

Death of the Horned Goose.

The Whispering Turnip.

The Mystery of Miss/Mr [character name].

Last Marigold.

Drown the Future.

Flavour of Death.

Prey of the Night.

Cheating will not help you out.

Rain of Iron.

Bite me, Kill me, but don't tell me you're leaving.

If I die, will you be at my grave?

Sing once more that song and I'll cry once again.

Greyed Morals.

It Almost Worked.

Pretty when you Cry.

I've lost myself.

This is how Mother raised me.

I throw up in her Bathroom, but she still Offers me a Drink.

I can't cry when my eyes are already Dry, can you?

Hunting Swirl of the Cirque.

Meat between Flowers.

Bloody Hands.

Silver Corpse.

The Love Empire has Fallen.

Used Knife.

The Twisted Daydream of his Paranoia.

That's all, I hope these fanfic name ideas could help any of you, if so, I would happily read them! You can use the tag dvzaiosamu's place for stories to show me your works!

[boundinparchment]

Spillways - VIII

Karina Alexandre, formerly of Fontaine, serves the Fatui after a series of events forces her hand and her Vision no longer glows bright. Unluckily for her, such circumstances are all too fascinating to the Second Harbinger. Prequel to ‘Tell Me Who You Wanna Be’. Hints at Il Dottore x Original Female Character. ArchiveOfOurOwn || FF.net

Usually, those that displayed such aggression were immediately sent packing or dragged off to be useful elsewhere.  A single letter swayed such matters before word had even reached the rest of the barracks.  Instead, Karina paid the price for her outburst with two days of solitary training and a week’s worth of weapons cleaning, supervised.

She didn’t speak the mother-tongue but the symbol on the letter’s seal and the mention of ‘Nasha Tsaritsa’ were enough.  She had eyes on her from higher commands and the drill sergeants had no choice but to obey.  

Despite past experiences with such politics, her skin crawled.  Karina didn’t need nor want the eyes of the Archon and Her ilk.  If this was what life had given her, she would make the most of it; there was no other way.

Her body said one thing during training while her mind said another.  A dissonance based on conditioning and learning to endure.  The medical practitioner from years before had scoffed at her mention of nightmares and essentially told her to forget about everything.  If she ignored it, she would forget it happened and she could move on.

Clearly, that had done nothing.

On her last day of weapon maintenance, she was joined by the same sparring partner she’d beaten, who openly glared at her as she took apart another rifle and laid it on the bench before her.  The supervising officer muttered something but remained in the room.  Karina’s heart skipped.  Petty revenge was common and if she walked out of her with merely bruises, she would be thankful.

But instead, the blonde man checked the list, grabbed the next weapon, and began disassembling it for cleaning.

What was his name?  She couldn’t recall.  They’d said it before the match but she’d been too focused on avoiding the Delusion’s burn to notice it.  Volk-something was all she remembered.

Everyone had their own duties around the facility; perhaps this was his, Karina reasoned.  The schedule had been changed to account for her doing the entire task alone, however.  So that didn’t quite make sense.

So why was he here, then?

“How are your knees?” she asked in the stagnant silence, wetting a patch with oil and pushing it through the bore of the gun.

“Swollen but operational,” he replied tersely in Common.  “I’ve had far worse from work horses, Alexandre.”

Karina narrowed her eyes as she pushed the patch through and repeated the process once more.  Was he insulting her?

“You were a Fontaine soldier, right?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The way the question rolled off his tongue was more like he was looking for confirmation rather than being polite.  He only nodded and then proceeded to begin with cleaning the chamber, his actions well-practiced.  After a while, he spoke again.

“I’ve seen the look in your eyes before from older Fatuus who return worse for wear.  They cannot differentiate easily when they return to training for a second deployment.  My village is full of such people.”

Karina looked at him as she finished oiling the components and he continued.

“Usually those from Fontaine who make their way to the north have a light-hearted spirit about them, underestimating almost everything.  All the while looking over their shoulder, as if a ghost is waiting for them.  Not you,” he tapped his temple.  “They’re with you.  I should not have goaded you.”

“I shouldn’t have let myself get there,” she replied almost immediately.  “That’s the kind of thing to leave at the door.”

How could he apologize for what was so clearly her fault?  She was the one who beat him bloody.

He shook his head.  “We all stand at different places in life when we get here.  Our common goal is to serve Nasha Tsaritsa and the nation but to get there, we must work together.  That is why the words are: If not us, then who? ” 

Karina re-assembled the rifle on autopilot, taking in what the stranger said.  Despite having been part of a unit in Fontaine, the nation itself was ridiculously prideful, and so were the people who made up the entire public service force.  She had been no stranger to it.  It was easy to leverage favoritism, even if everyone knew how she spent her free time with their commanding officer.

All anyone ever saw were differences; whether one was an Allogene or not, came from a wealthy background or a poor one, who had their uniform’s convoluted pieces in the wrong place.  It was easier to tear others down.  

But up here, in the frozen wasteland, all of that didn’t matter.  Couldn’t matter.  Competition was healthy but it didn’t help if it blinded one from duty.

“I’ll admit, I haven’t learned everyone’s names,” Karina said.

“Anatoly Volkov.”

She’d been partially correct, then.  

“How many more do you have left?” he asked, gesturing with the fully assembled rifle he held.  When had he finished so quickly?

“Two more cabinets.”

“I’ll take one of them, it’ll go faster.”

“But–”

But it was her punishment to bear.

The supervising officer hadn’t said a single word, a phantom presence to make sure the job was done that had not once protested against the conversation and assistance.  Volkov shrugged, a ghost of a grin crossing his face that made the scar across his nose twitch.

“It’s Recc Night; someone managed to convince the sergeant to pull out the projector for a moving picture.  No one should miss a chance to unwind for a few hours.  I’ll take the cabinet at the end.”

Hours later, after hesitant glances and whispers, she laughed for the first time in months in a darkened room, one voice of many.

_______________________________________

The culmination of everything was hunting down the creatures of the rift in the permafrost far to the north.  There, a half-buried pillar fractured the ice and created the ripples of light seen from the Palace.  Those that survived were considered full members of the Fatui.  Those that did not were remembered by the Leylines.

Large wolves, colloquially called Fafnir, usually roamed the perimeter, protecting and expanding their territory.  Wildlife was sparse; it wasn’t uncommon for migrating herds to be slaughtered despite immense caution this time of year, many said.  The wispy foxes were more desperate but they weren’t dangerous to humans.  Hilichurls endured the wicked cold but only if they wandered, and Karina distinctly got the impression that to do so, they must have wished for death to begin with.

They had until sunset to return back with at least one of the large Fafnir, proof of their victory.  Its fur would be used to make their cloaks.

“Sometimes, a Harbinger fights the most promising recruit,” Volkov explained over breakfast the morning of the hunt.  “Tartaglia, if anyone at all.  But I hear they’re looking for Wardens, too.”

“Would explain why it feels rushed,” another said.  “Schedule’s shorter this time around.”

“The North is getting worse.”

The politics were familiar and strange all at once.  Some things were universal, such as border protection and dealing with non-human creatures.  But the approach was vastly different.

Around her were Volkov, who had proven to be a fast but loyal comrade, and others who had gravitated to one another over the course of training.  The skeptical looks shot towards her disappeared entirely by the end of the film that night weeks ago.  It was the closest she had to feeling as though she belonged.

“Wardens are…what, exactly?” Karina asked, taking a deep sip of scalding coffee.

“A Harbinger’s Second Hand.” Volkov held out both hands, palm up.  “Wardens and Understudies serve as the Right and Left hands of those the Tsaritsa trusts to enact Her Will.  Understudies are rare; most of the Harbingers only use them for body doubles or decoys, if at all.  Wardens are a Harbinger’s enforcer and defender.  Not that they need it, of course.  The higher ranks don’t even bother with them.”

Karina’s brow twitched.  Was that what she’d encountered, then?  Dottore’s Understudy?  Was that what his Segments were for?

“Being a Warden is coveted more for being a life-long position,” someone chimed in.  “You’re not subject to the whims of needing to fill in gaps, pushed around like jetsam.”

Volkov grimaced, dragging out his syllables.  “Depends on the Harbinger.  And that’s if you’re assigned to begin with; Wardens can go years without being assigned if the Tsaritsa so wishes.  They probably need spares, in the event a few more go missing from another expedition.”

A twinge ran through Karina’s jaw as she recalled the months before her own planned assault.  Disappearances, unsafe circumstances, all surrounded and protected by the political landscape that shaped the very situation.  It didn’t sit right with her but she’d learned enough from that mistake.  Or so she liked to think.

She could understand the pride in it all, she supposed.  But wasn’t the Fatui about the collective, the unit?  Or was this a way to find natural leadership?  It provided a challenge to those who needed it and gave others something to strive for.

“Is it really that important?” she asked.

“Warden recruitment means all of the Harbingers back home and watching who comes back from the hunt.  Just on that premise alone, even if you aren’t chosen, it matters.  Now, come on, all of you, finish up.  I want to get a head start.”

Karina tipped her cup back, the dark bitter liquid burning her throat, before the group rose from the table and collected their things.  The sun had yet to rise and the artificial lights stung as they took their maps and orders from the officer stationed at the front gate.  As they left the training grounds, over the fur lining of her hood, Karina caught sight of a cluster of figures in white, martial bands on their cloaks and faces partially hidden.  A crop of red hair was obvious against the backdrop of the snow, his red scarf tucked neatly as he stood a little ways from a smaller figure, black hair cascading down her back.  A third, her cloak draped gracefully around her shoulders but entirely open to reveal a gown that would have made most in Fontaine envious, was seemingly unaffected by the cold.  

They’d already started to arrive.  Karina wondered, briefly, if Dottore himself would be present.  This kind of thing seemed like a waste of time for him but he would want to keep an eye on her, if only because orders dictated it.  Wouldn’t he?

Not that it mattered.

She pulled up her hood and adjusted the rifle on her shoulder.  The others already had their Delusions and accompanying elemental weapons; she was at their mercy for any assistance but that was the point.  Teamwork.  A collective unit.

They would return victorious.  As if there was any other option.

[wanderingaldecaldo]

'making the call' for the wip game? c:

Thanks for the ask @themightiestpotato! From the WIP Game Ask

"Making the call"

This is something of a prequel to my longfic No One's Gonna Love You. NOGLY starts with V waking up in Panam's truck. No Johnny, just her alone. She didn't call anyone from the roof, which was not true of my first playthrough where I did in fact call Judy, and immediately fell in love with Mitch. When I started writing NOGLY, it was very soon after finishing the game for the first time, maybe March '21. I barely knew who V was, and she didn't even have a real name until later that fall. I specifically started where I did because I didn't want to write Johnny. As little as I knew her, I felt I knew Johnny even less, or where their relationship fell. I want to do a NOGLY rewrite at some point because the first few chapters are weak in characterizing her, and I think this scene is a crucial step in my own understanding of her mentality.

She paces on the rooftop, cigarette pinched between her fingers, drags punctuating every turn. Her mental finger hovers over Judy’s number. She should call her. At least tell her what she’s about to do; she deserves that much. Another spin on her heel and she paces back toward Johnny who pulls on his own cigarette. No reason to call River— she ghosted him, dressed silently under cover of his soft snores, crept through the trailer before Ross or the kids could catch her, never answered his messages. A coward.

Gonna ghost her, too? Him, sure. Liked her, at least.

“Not helping,” she growls, aloud. She flinches and turns on her heel.

Judy, who just lost Evelyn to suicide, and what is this mission but suicide?

Not true, and you know it.

“No, I don't, and you don't either. Going against Arasaka again. Hasn't worked out well for either of us.”

Then don't call. Not like you've been a good output.

“Fuck you, Johnny,” she says, stabbing at the air. “Like you're one to talk.”

'xactly why I can say it. Was a shitty input, to more'n Alt or Rogue. If Rogue hadn't been on that last op to Arasaka Tower, think I'd've called her?

V turns away, stung from his recognition of himself in her. Has she always been so much like Johnny, or is it the biochip overwriting her with him?

[mbrainspaz]

It's been years since I wrote this short story for my old writer's group and I feel like sharing. I've said before that I hate writing short stories so with this one I cheated. It's actually a prequel to a bigger story about teleporting shapeshifters I've been writing since I was 16. Even then I barely resisted making it into a 200+ page prequel novel. This MINI prequel takes place at the end of WW2 so expect themes accordingly. Please don't expect much from the 'research' I probably spent 30 minutes on. The prompt from writer's group was "I'll go first."

Observe: some of my earliest OCs— the immortal idiots.

1945. April. Berlin.

“I can hardly blame Adolf.”

The chandelier rattled and dust cascaded into two cups of coffee as a Russian shell brought down the building next door. August sighed at the froth of rubble in his gilded cup and splashed the brew onto the carpet. He took his time selecting a decanter of schnapps from a liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass. 

“He did start the war,” I said. 

“Not for—yes obviously. I meant for going mad.” 

“You want me to believe you didn’t have a hand in that?” 

August smirked over the edge of his glass and said, “It doesn’t matter now. It turns out you had the right idea when you defected to America. I think I’ll join you in Chicago soon. Despite everything I did for them the Germans have—” another cascade of shellfire blew out the tall windows. August coughed delicately. “—lost.” 

“You aren’t welcome in America after what you've been a part of here. None of the Allied Nations will have you.” 

August slowly lowered his glass. 

“That’s what I came here to tell you,” I continued without meeting my old friend’s eyes. Once I would have called him family—the older brother I never had. I swilled the muddy coffee in my cup but never raised it to my lips. I'd be a fool to try anything August served me. 

“Andreas,” August pouted my name, drawing hurt from all three syllables. “You know I don’t care if you work for the FBI now. The two of us, we’re bigger than all these squabbles between nations, yes? We’ve known we were brothers since the moment we met. Once the treaties are signed all of this will be in the past. Just like your unfortunate incident last year.” He reached out squeeze my shoulder. 

“Don’t!” I barked, rolling out of my chair to get away. I landed on one knee, pistol raised. 

“Oh dear, you’re still upset about that.” 

“Upset,” I spat. The sympathetic smile on August’s face tested the utmost limits of my restraint. “It was your fault! It’s your fault she’s dead! I didn’t defect to America because they were winning, I left to get away from you. The whole world has seen pictures of the internment camps now so stop pretending you don’t know what you were part of. You crafted this evil. You engineered it.” 

August whistled through his teeth and raised his hands. His schnapps glass hovered in the air near his right wrist until he decided to pick it up. The trick cost him nothing. I could remember a time when we both went red-faced trying to lift pebbles or slip coin purses from pockets. In those early days each new ability was a source of wonder that fueled our dreams. It took me too long to realize how very different his dreams were. 

I waited for August to retreat to the far side of the table before I stood up. I kept my pistol leveled at his head. 

“You’re being unreasonable,” August purred. “Haven’t you realized everything that happened was for the best? She wasn’t like us. She would only have held you back. You proved that when you came back.”

I lowered the pistol before August could see my hands tremble. The memories of that night were still as vivid as the crumbling city around me. They were the ghost of a bullet flashing through my head. The first sight from new eyes imprinted on my mind like a raw scar: Her dead eyes staring back at me. 

August laughed into his drink. There was less remorse in his heart than there was fuel for the German tanks. I had seen all I needed to see. 

“We aren’t as special as you think,” I said. “How closely were you involved with the Japanese?” 

“Not very. I never saw much promise in Japan. I was only ever interested in Germany. I thought that was what you wanted.” 

“So you haven’t heard of the Black Dragon Society.”

“Are they… ninjas? They sound like ninjas. Please do tell me they're ninjas.” 

I drew a photograph from my coat pocket. I flicked it across the room and August’s hand snapped up to catch it. 

“Meet me there in ten minutes.” 

August scoffed and said, “You’ve gotten slow.” 

“I might stop in Brazil for a decent cup of coffee.” 

A cannon shell screamed its final warning a second before the building came crashing down around our ears. 

I stepped out of a shadowed doorway near the FBI building in Washington DC. I slipped into the role of Andrew Stern while I was still brushing rubble from my lapels. The morning was cold and no birds sang over the low rumble of automobile traffic. I took a steadying breath and startled half to death when a hand fell on my shoulder. 

“So, is he dead yet?” John asked. 

“Ah—no. Hitler is hiding in his bunker and the Russians have taken most of the city. Goebbels has stepped in to direct the troops.” 

I let August think that I worked for the FBI but in truth it was blackmail. The sharp-eyed FBI director was the only one who knew about my ability to travel impossible distances in the blink of an eye. It was a secret he would keep as long as I was useful. Luckily he didn’t know my other impossibilities. 

No one knew about August. I couldn't warn the world about him without exposing myself. No, August was a spider pulling a thousand strings and when those strings broke he would disappear and build a new web. The threat about the Allied Nations was pure bluster. For now I was the only thing standing between an unscrupulous man who could reshape matter with his mind and the rest of the world—but perhaps not forever.

John thumped me on the back, took a drag of his cigarette, and said, “I don’t think I’ll rest easy until I finally see Hitler’s corpse. You’re doing a great service to this country, Andrew my boy.”

I exhaled a puff of cold air. At 33 I was technically younger than the director but I wouldn’t have chosen to appear that way. That was my penance as long as the FBI knew me by this face. 

“Oh, that reminds me.” John fumbled through his coat pockets until he produced an envelope. I accepted it after the barest hesitation. “They want you back on the Manhattan Project so your work in Cambridge will have to wait.” 

“I don’t—I have classes to teach.” 

“Andrew Andrew.” John’s hand thumped against my back again. “This is a matter of national security. Play teacher another day.” 

I scowled at John’s back as he ground his cigarette butt into the sidewalk and returned to his office. The Manhattan Project was what had first turned my interest to Japan months ago. I pulled back my sleeve to check one of my seven wristwatches. No time for coffee in Brazil after all. 

“This is quaint,” August greeted me from behind a Japanese face. We stood together on a bridge over the Ōta River just after sunset. A lantern-lit trolley rumbled past, carrying locals dressed in fine evening wear. Most of the pedestrians still wore their grimy work clothes as they rode bicycles or pulled carts. I didn’t miss the petrol-fueled thrum of DC. 

“This way," I said, using a tongue the locals would understand as their own if any bothered to overhear it. I led August to a dark temple on the riverfront. We entered by stepping through a solid wall, a detail that didn't phase him. He'd grown so confident in his own power. 

"Who dares approach the black dragon?” boomed a voice that would have made a sane man’s knees tremble.   

"Oh this is—this is very nice," August said, nodding his head as he crossed the black marble floor in confident strides. As he approached the regal figure on a throne in the center of the hall he raised a hand in a casual Nazi salute, then had to laugh at himself. “Sorry, old habits. I’m August, and you are?” 

Fabric rustled. Two katanas glinted in the low light as they crossed against August’s throat. He went still, not paralyzed but calculating. The warriors who held the blades wore featureless black masks and they had crossed the hall without ever taking a step. 

I coughed to break the tension and bowed my head, saying, “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, great dragon.” 

The enthroned figure waved an onyx hand and the two warriors vanished from the hall as easily they had appeared. August stepped back from the throne to stand at my side. 

“August.” The powerful voice spoke his name as if to shake it apart and sift through the ruins. “You who call yourself ‘Aryan.’” 

August smiled a curious smile and said, “I am what I am.”

“You know not what you are, nor how you came to be.” 

I knew August was stung by that though he hid it well. A trace of the orphaned boys we once were would always be part of us. 

“Names and titles mean so little,” he hedged. 

“And yet you have given yourself so many, not least the name of an Emperor.” 

August flushed at that, his eyes blazing gold in a rare show of temper. The wooden throne creaked dangerously. The masked figure on the throne only tilted its head in response. August crushed the throne to splinters. The Dragon stayed seated on serenely on empty air, black robes hanging inches from the ground. 

“You are gifted but you are ignorant,” the Dragon boomed. August staggered a half-step back. It was enough to make my heart race. “It is time you learned you are set apart, but not above.”

“Of course I’m above them! I’m immortal,” August blustered, pounding a fist against his chest. 

The Dragon laughed. “Thirty-five years you have walked this earth and you think yourself eternal.” 

“Spit it out then. What do you say I am?” 

“You are Tsukumogami: He who lives for a hundred years. No more and no less. You are not a god, but a tool of the spirits sent to guide humanity along better paths until our time on this earth is past.” 

I knew how hard that revelation had hit me and yet August seemed to take it all in stride. He contemplated the hovering figure for a silent moment before turning on his heel and vanishing from the hall. I knew right where I would find him. 

August didn’t turn when he heard me clambering over the rooftop. He gazed out over the train yard, watching civilians and soldiers mill about like busy ants in a black forest hive. This was the Parisian train station where we’d first crossed paths in 1922. 

“You think he was telling the truth?” he asked. All the bravado had been stripped away along with the disguises. He wore his own face, probably for the first time in a decade. His tightly curled blonde hair suited him better than the slicked back style he’d worn for the Nazis.  

“He knows what he’s talking about. Their order has been around for centuries. You wouldn’t believe how I found them.” 

“Well you finally did it. Found out what we are. Tsuku—whatever. What a ridiculous name.”  

“I hoped it might help you see the world in a different light.”

“I know what it means to you.” 

I shook my head, watching all the people below without really seeing them. 

“I’ll go first,” August said. 

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 1

“You can do this Marinette,” Adrien whispered encouragingly, echoing the mantra she’d been whispering to herself for the past two days.  She could do this.  She could manage.  This was for Max.  She could handle it.  He couldn’t be here but she could.  She could be strong for him.  She gave Adrien a shaky smile and nodded.  “We just have to find him and we can leave,” he reminded her.

Marinette took a breath and let it out slowly. She’d dealt with far, far worse than a few judgmental, heartless asses who had no real interest in her.  But seas of artificial smiles had always unsettled her and currently she was surrounded with so much artificial sweetness she felt like she was walking through a kid’s cereal aisle.  That added onto her already existing anxiety had her ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

She ran her hand over the skirt of her dress, letting the feeling of the fabric and the knowledge of all that had gone into it soothe her.  She was especially proud of her dress and the work that had gone into it.  It was a black so dark it almost appeared to draw in the light around it.  A mesh with strategically placed blood red decorations overlaid the dress, hugging her bodice until it reached her hips then dropped into a flowing skirt that ended just before it could pool on the ground.

She fought the urge to fiddle with the belt in her nervousness.  She couldn’t show weakness like that, not here.  She looked up at Adrien again in search of an anchor to reality.  She took in his expression and had to stifle the laugh that resulted.  He had his own artificially sweet smile on but his eyes quite clearly begged for a quick death.  He glanced down to her and nudged her discreetly, his artificial smile becoming wide and real.  “Shhhh,” he hushed her under his breath.  “We’re trying not to attract attention to ourselves, remember?  We’re ghosts.”  He looked around to make sure nobody was looking at them.

Marinette immediately quieted, her face becoming somber. She did remember.  In and out.  That was the goal.  Her goal. Knock the man on his ass with Max’s accomplishments, then never see him, or anyone else in this room, other than Adrien of course, ever again.  They were supposed to be like ghosts.  There but not.  Her eyes scanned the room looking for their target.

Adrien’s eyes immediately softened and filled with regret.  “Shit, Mari. I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

“No,” she looked up at him with an artificial smile of her own.  “I know. It’s fine.  It’s not your fault.”  She scanned the crowd again, cursing her height, as she had many times in her life.  Even with the six inch, death defying heels, she still barely reached Adrien’s eyes, let alone give her any kind of advantage to see the crowd.  She needed some kind of vantage point but unfortunately, the only high point in the ballroom was the stage, which she couldn’t utilize if she was going to follow her Ghost policy.  “We might have more success if we split up.  Let me know if you find him.”

Adrien squeezed her arm quickly before nodding. “Good luck.”

Marinette shot him a genuine smile.  “You too.  May the Luck be with you.”

Adrien laughed and shook his head.  “I never should have forced you to watch that movie.”

Marinette grinned back.  “You never should have forced me to watch the prequels.  The original ones were just fine.”  Adrien narrowed his eyes at her but let it drop in favor of disappearing in the crowd to find their target.

Marinette followed him with her eyes until she couldn’t see him anymore then took a deep breath to brace herself.  Her eyes immediately started darting around and her fingers started dancing.  She needed something to occupy them or she was going to start attracting unwanted attention.

She noted a bar close by and made a beeline for it. She waited politely for the bartender to notice her, her fingers tapping anxiously against the bar while she waited. She froze when she heard a gruff voice next to her.  “Did you sneak in here?”

She turned to the voice and blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

“You’re anxious and jittery.  Afraid you’re going to get kicked out?” the man elaborated.

Marinette studied him for a moment trying to figure out why he looked so familiar.  “No,” she started slowly, trying to give her brain a chance to answer the puzzle. “Just not a fan of events like this.”

The man scoffed and nodded in understanding. “Cheers.”  He raised his glass for her to clink his but she held out her hands with a sheepish look, showing she didn’t have a drink yet.  “Well, that’s a crime.  Nobody should have to endure one of these without a drink.”  He motioned to the bartender and got an immediate response. “Another for me and a…” he motioned to Marinette to give her order.

“Oh, champagne, please,” she finished with a smile for the bartender.  That’s what was socially acceptable at events like this, right?  Champagne.

The bartender looked to the man for confirmation. The man nodded.  “And a champagne for the woman.”  Marinette scowled at the bartender causing the man to laugh. “He’s just worried that you’re underage. You look awfully young.  You’re not, right?”

Marinette’s glare softened in realization.  “Oh, that makes sense.  No, I’m not.  I forgot the legal age here is higher than in France.”

He nodded and looked at her critically for a moment before offering his hand.  “Jason.”

Marinette immediately reached out for his hand and answered with her name before her brain registered the name he’d given. Jason.  Jason Todd.  Bruce Wayne’s son.  She pulled her hand back quickly as the realization hit her and focused on leveling her breathing.  She grabbed the champagne glass more violently than necessary when the bartender set it down in front of her and immediately downed the entire glass, only coughing a bit as the bubbles tickled her throat.  Overall, champagne was not the best drink to chug.  “Another, please,” she croaked out.

“You know, there are better drinks for that, if that’s what you want to do,” Jason grinned, laughing at her.

“Wasn’t the plan until it was and then that’s all I had,” she croaked out, her voice still hoarse from the bubbles.  She kept her eyes focused on her empty glass as she spoke, almost afraid to make eye contact with him as if just seeing her eyes would be enough to blow her cover.

Jason chuckled and nodded in understanding. “Don’t suppose you’d care to dance?”

Marinette whipped her head to him and stared incredulously, forgetting her previous reservations.  She only moved again when the bartender set the new drink down in front of her.  “Um… no… thank you.  That doesn’t seem… I don’t think my date would be comfortable with that.  Good luck getting drunk enough to handle tonight though.”  She gave him a weak smile and raised her glass to him before moving into the fray again, now armed with a socially acceptable fidget toy.

It took five minutes of avoiding wandering hands and leering looks but with a little luck and some prodding from the goddess hiding in the folds of her skirt, she was finally able to stumble on M. Lucius Fox, Director of Research and Development for Wayne Enterprises.  He was in a conversation he was not remotely interested in with some vapid business exec who was just as interested in M. Fox.  Not that M. Fox’s disinterest was clear.  He was very polite and good at covering his boredom, much more so than his conversation partner, but she’d been at enough stuffy, snobby parties with Adrien, Felix, and Chloe to know the signs.

She took another breath and squared her shoulders, going into Ladybug Mode; calm and confident, completely assured of herself. She was on a mission.  She had a goal and a plan to accomplish it, and once she had a plan, she had a direction and purpose, and with those, her insecurities fell away.  With M. Fox in her sights, she could see the pieces and the way they fit together. There were no more doubts.  She set her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and made her way over to M. Fox.

“The elusive M. Fox.  It is a pleasure to meet you,” Marinette purred, coming up next to him with a charming, real smile.

“I didn’t realize I was hiding,” Lucius responded with a polite smile of his own.

“Must just come naturally.  Foxes are known to be crafty.”  Marinette looked around them and motioned toward the dancefloor. “Would you care to dance, M. Fox?”

He shook his head deferentially.  “Are you sure there aren’t other people here you’d rather dance with?”

Marinette smiled conspiratorially and leaned closer to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance.  She did NOT want to have her banter confused with flirting. That was not the strategy she had devised.  “That would defeat the purpose of coming here.  I came here specifically to speak with you.”

Lucius looked down at her analytically, trying to figure out what her angle was, but took her hand and followed her onto the dancefloor.  “And what did you want to speak about, Ms…?”

“Dupain Cheng.  Marinette Dupain Cheng.  It’s nice to meet you M. Fox.  I wanted to speak to you to sell my friend Max Kante.”

Lucius’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly as the music changed.  After a beat, he chuckled.  “I’m not in the market to buy anyone, but thank you.”  He settled his hands on her mid-back and hand for their dance.

Marinette chuckled good naturedly along with him. “Sell his talents, would be a better way to say it.”

“And where is Mr. Kante?” Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, curious why the young man didn’t bother to come himself.  “Why are you presenting his talents instead of him?”

“Finals.  Had the incredibly bad luck to have a Friday at noon final.  I mean at least it wasn’t at 19h, right?  Can you believe they have those?”  She scrunched up her nose in playful disgust.  “But still means he’s taking it right now.  And for his last final of his career.  I mean… probably.  Knowing him, he might get another PhD at some point.  My finals and presentation ended last week.  M. Wa…” she took a steadying breath and looked back up with a strained smile hoping he wouldn’t notice the stutter.  “M. Wayne even visited for it.  That’s when the idea for this came to me.  So while Max studied, I plotted.”

“So why me then and not Mr. Wayne?” Lucius asked with a curious interest.

Marinette froze for just a second.  Hardly enough for anyone to notice.  Her mind raced to calculate the appropriate response to that question, a satisfactorily casual yet intelligent response.  “M. Wayne isn’t in charge of research.  You are.  Not to mention, I highly doubt the CEO would be involved enough in the research and development projects to know what was going on.  You I take as a man who knows what is going on with all your ongoing projects.”

He nodded.  She wasn’t wrong, or normally wouldn’t be.  Mr. Wayne usually was not involved in any projects and with the exception of one particular project they were having issues with, he wouldn’t know the particulars.  “A very dangerous and elaborate plan.  Why didn’t you make an appointment with me?  Or just stop me on the street?” he prodded, hoping for her thought process.

Marinette laughed lightly.  “I don’t imagine I would have had a chance in Hell of making an appointment with you in your office.  I have no standing, no name, no significance that would have attracted any PA worth their salt’s attention.  I would have been pawned off onto a low ranking employee to handle, if I was handled at all.  And something like this needed to be taken to you.  

“As for running into you on the street, I can’t imagine you would have responded positively to getting accosted on the street. You seem more than capable of handling yourself with grace in the face of a pest.  I doubt I would have gotten more than a few words in.  At a gala however,” she grinned conspiratorially at him. “Societal convention.  Almost absolute certainty of at least one dance where I would have you one-on-one for a few minutes.  Hostage audience.  Figured I could use it to my advantage for once.”

Lucius smiled back at her ingenuity.  “There’s an application process he could have gone through,” he noted.  

Mari nodded and looked out to the crowd, scanning it.  “Right, applying to M. Fedor Rabler,” she said distractedly.  “He did that.”

Lucius nodded in understanding.  Their application process was tough.  Lots of amazing candidates didn’t get through. He had to respect her devotion to her friend, to risk coming here and potentially making an enemy of Wayne Enterprises if he’d been that sort of man.  His eyes turned sympathetic.  “I’m sorry he was passed over.”

“You know, I’ve noticed Elspeth Cole puts forth a lot of inventions and extremely varied ones at that,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard his consolation.  “Most inventors, you can see their process, you can see how they got from one invention to the next, but hers… they’re so varied.  It’s almost like they’re coming from completely different people.”  Lucius watched her carefully, waiting to see where she was going with this.  “That’s them, isn’t it?  Dancing together.  Awfully close for purely colleagues.”

Lucius followed her sight line to Ms. Cole and Mr. Rabler dancing extremely closely.  Not obscenely, but perhaps a bit closer than was normally acceptable at a society event such as this one.  “It’s hardly incriminating that two people with expertise in electrical engineering would get together,” he said slowly.

“Max is amazing.  Brilliant,” Marinette said, seemingly not noticing her non-sequitur. “He created an AI that helped the Parisian superheroes locate and defeat our supervillain at only 14.”  Lucius’ brow rose.  That was certainly promising.  He wondered what would have caused them not to take such an applicant.  Surely there was some sort of embellishment there, but as he studied her, she seemed entirely genuine.  

“He’s being scouted by several high profile companies including Lexcorp and Palmer Technologies.”  She turned her attention back to Lucius, a curious pout on her lips. “But not Wayne Enterprises.”  She looked away with clearly forced casualness. “Lexcorp and Palmer, they’re offering pretty impressive packages.  Not as good as he deserves in my opinion, but I may be a bit biased.  Wayne Enterprises however… nothing.  Not even an offer.

“Now, I don’t really have a dog in the fight… other than wanting my friend to be safe and treated with the respect he deserves. But Palmer Technologies gets blown up by a villain or its inventors kidnapped far too frequently for me to be comfortable with my friend working there.  And Lexcorp…”  She looked down as if in thought before looking back at him again with a determined look in her eye.

“You know, I get a feeling sometimes.  I can’t really explain it, just get a feeling about people or things.  I’ve found it’s best for me and the people around me if I listen to that feeling and that feeling tells me Lex Luthor is the last person who should be trusted with a brain as brilliant as Max’s.”  She looked back over to Mr. Rabler and Ms. Cole.  “That same feeling told me Max shouldn’t trust the application process for Wayne Enterprises.”  

She looked back at Lucius with an apologetic smile. “No offense.  So, I convinced Max to make a small part of his submission just a little off.  Just a bit. Enough that even an expert could miss it, but if it’s wrong the project could never work.  It took a lot of convincing to get him to do it.  He refused to believe he had anything to worry about in Wayne Enterprises with its stellar reputation.”  She scrunched up her face in annoyance.  “But that feeling, you know?  I couldn’t get over it.  After a lot of work, I convinced him there was no harm.  After all, if he was hired he could fix it.  If he wasn’t… well, you shouldn’t be using what he presented anyway, right? No harm, no foul as you Americans say.”

“No,” Lucius agreed.  “That would be theft and completely against WE policy and standards.  In fact, we should not be asking applicants to submit anything like that in the first place.”

Marinette smiled and nodded approvingly.  “I’ve heard rumblings, or rather Max has, of WE getting into transmutation of materials.  Just can’t get that algorithm right though, can you?  Algorithms are hard.  Just a little off and nothing works.”

He stared at her.  That was a secret project.  Other departments in Wayne Enterprises didn’t even know about it.  “I can’t comment on ongoing projects.”  

“I never did show you what Max is capable of, did I?”  She gave him a bright smile and reached down to press a disguised button on her belt. Lucius tensed and cursed himself for exposing himself to whatever she was about to do.  A wave of emerald green washed over the front of her bodice as the blood red decorated mesh overlay turned into a brilliant emerald green that reflected the lights now rather than absorbing it.

Lucius’ eyes widened in surprise, a feat very few had been able to draw out of him.  “He designed the fabric?” he whispered out.  He reached out tentatively to touch the fabric at her shoulder.

Marinette grinned brilliantly at his reaction.  It was no less than Max deserved.  He’d worked incredibly hard on it.  “He did,” she nodded in confirmation, “and the software that controls it.  The whole dress can change but we’re kind of surrounded here and I didn’t want to attract too much attention.”  She let him touch it for a moment before pushing the button again to turn it back into the black, then allowing him to feel the mesh to confirm it was the same fabric.  “He has ideas for changing the texture as well, but limited resources you know? Something I’d hope wouldn’t be an issue at WE.”

“How does it work?”  His eyes were still focused on the fabric at her shoulder. He took a quick look at the rest of the bodice, but quickly snapped his eyes back to her shoulder.  The neckline was conservative, but it was still rather unbecoming to stare at the young woman’s chest.

Marinette laughed.  “You’ll have to ask Max that.  I just designed the dress.  I don’t really understand the mechanics behind it, but he does.  I doubt Ms. Cole can say the same.”

Lucius stared in awe at her shoulder before looking back up to her eyes and nodding in understanding.  “Interesting.  I’ll take that under advisement.  Maybe we should be scouting you as well.”

Mari laughed.  “No, thank you.  I’m not an inventor.  I’m a designer.  But I appreciate the interest.”

Lucius nodded and led her off the dancefloor with the end of the song.  “Inventor or not, we can always use someone with intuition, intelligence, and ingenuity like you’ve demonstrated.”  

Marinette gave him a brilliant, somewhat familiar smile. “That’s very flattering.  Thank you, M. Fox.  But tonight is about Max.  I have my own, separate plans for my future.”

Lucius nodded in understanding.  “Our loss,” he answered sincerely.  “If you ever need any help or advice, please feel free to call me.  I’m sure Mr. Kante will have it soon enough and can pass it onto you.”  He looked back down to her shoulder again.  “If I may…”  He motioned toward her shoulder.  

Marinette laughed.  “Of course.  I understand how truly impressive it is.  It’s been incredibly inspirational, thinking of the options.”

“And what did your intuition tell you about tonight?” He looked up to meet her eyes, curious about her answer.

Marinette’s face went slack for a moment before she pasted on a bittersweet smile.  “That it would be costly but worth it.”

Lucius quirked his head to the side.  “In what way?”

Marinette shook her head absently and took a sudden interest in M. Fox’s tie.  “I’m not sure yet.”

Mr. Fox’s eyes softened.  “Would he be available to meet on Monday?”

Marinette grin and snapped her eyes up to him. Mission success!  Max was going to get his interview!  “He can be.”

“I’d actually like to speak with both of you, if you don’t mind.  In my office at 10 Monday?” he offered.  

Marinette faltered.  “In Wayne Enterprises?”

Lucius chuckled.  “Naturally.”

Marinette swallowed heavily.  “Why don’t we meet somewhere else?  Early morning coffee perhaps?” she offered instead with an artificial smile.  “Here’s my card.  Have someone give me a call or text and I can arrange it.  He’s scheduled to fly in tomorrow morning.  He was supposed to meet with Lexcorp Monday morning, but he’ll be at coffee to meet you instead.”

Lucius smiled back at her as he slipped her card into his pocket.  “I greatly appreciate your candor and support Ms. Dupain Cheng.”  He took her hand in both of his to shake it.  “I cannot tell you how good it was to meet you.  And if you ever get one of those feelings about me or Wayne Enterprises, let me know, okay?”

“Lucius.”

Lucius froze at the cold voice, not accustomed to that tone of voice directed at him.  He looked over curiously and missed Marinette freezing before pushing another button on her belt.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm

[elisabeth-forbes]

🎃Halloween Writers Ask🎃

OC’s/characters 

* if question applicable for both oc’s and characters.

Devil – which one of your oc’s would be the final girl in a horror movie?

*Werewolf– favorite antagonist/villain you have ever written for?

Witches – How do you come up with names for your ocs?

*Vampire - Who is your favourite character to write for and is this the character you find easiest to write for?

Demon - which one of your oc’s would be the surprise villain in a horror movie?

Mummies – what would 3 of your oc’s be dressed for Halloween?

Zombie - Take an oc and put them into (insert horror/halloween movie here) – what would they do?

*Ghost - Favorite character trait to write?

Killer Clown - Fave character name you’ve come up with?

*Changeling - An oc either gets turned into a (vampire, werewolf, witch, ghost) or meets one – what would they be? how do they react? Bonus how does another character react to them

For the Writer

Samhain – a horror trope you will never ever do?

Moonlight - Choose 5 favourite works created in the past year (fics, art, edits) that you want to promote

Tombstone - what are some of examples of storytelling that inspires you outside of books?

Cat – do you have any superstitions around writing or routines before posting what you have written?

Pumpkin – whats the longest fic you have written (own or fanfic)?

Haunted House - Anything you have wanted to write but have been too scared to try?

Leaves – do you prefer sticking with one story or making lots of sequels?

Cemetery - Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Disguise -  Do you have a method for getting characters to sound/feel in character?

Cauldron - Fave genres?

Ghoul - Top 5 tropes that you enjoy/hate writing?

Writer Prompt

Any popular trope (e.g. soulmates) but it make horror

After life Express – basically wherever you are in a WIP make it the start of a horror movie

“Are you scared right now?”

“Just ask for directions”

“Do you want to hear a story?”

“I dare you to………”

“I think we’re lost”

“déjà vu"

Summoned a Demon

Possessed best friend

Bitten by a zombie/werewolf

Haunting

Resurrection

Potion

Trick or treat (choose one):

🦉 – multiple pov or single pov?

🕸 – working on one WIP or multiple at a time?

🍂 – prequels or sequels?

🖤 Multiple protagonists vs single protagonist?

☕️ Mutliple antagonist vs single antagonists?

🗝 – one-shots or multi-chapters?

👻 Dialogue or description

[tisthenightofthewitch]

ALBUM REVIEW: Ghost – Impera

As one cycle ends, another begins. The flamboyant, dancing Cardinal Copia has been anointed Papa Emeritus IV and the plague-ridden doom of the 14th century is gone. Taking place hundreds of years after Prequelle, Tobias Forge and his band of Nameless Ghouls, otherwise known as psychedelic doom rock popsters Ghost, leave the rats behind as latest chapter Impera (Spinefarm/Loma Vista) tells of new empires built from the ashes of the old.

After the methodically layered instrumental ‘Imperium’ finishes setting the scene, the real fun begins with Impera‘s true opener, ‘Kaisarion’. Bright and optimistic, and not too far removed from legendary Canadian prog gods Rush, lyrics such as “far away from the stench of the heavens” prove we’re still in reassuringly dark territory. Propelled by keyboards which owe some level of debt to Bon Jovi‘s ‘Runaway’, ‘Spillways’ (run-offs which stop dams from overflowing – but in this case meaning something that allows the darkness inside us to find an escape) boasts the first of many instantly uplifting choruses.

Taking a more sinister turn, ‘Call Me Little Sunshine’ could be a blood relative to ‘Cirice’ as the Devil speaks to children through their computers, while ‘Hunter’s Moon’ (used recently for horror sequel Halloween Kills) is a paean to classic horror consistent with the record’s overarching theme – in this case the empire of childhood. ‘Watcher in the Sky’ quickly brightens the proceedings again, sweeping determinedly forwards with weighty riffs and another memorably ebullient chorus.

Like something composer Wendy Carlos could have written for The Shining or A Clockwork Orange, the darkly majestic segue of ‘Dominion’ takes us away from the industrial imagery of Zbigniew Bielak‘s magnificent cover art and into the outside world before the band deliver arguably their most bonkers and potentially divisive cut to date. After a bombastic orchestral opening, the brazenly irreverent stomp of ‘Twenties’ finds Forge sneering and rasping his way through something possibly best described as Satanic Reggaeton. There’s simply no other way to get away with lines like, “we’ll be grabbing them all by the hoo-ha” than with a wink and a cheeky smile.

Striking a more serious and contemplative tone, ‘Darkness At the Heart of My Love’ is about people who fake piety in order to further themselves while ‘Griftwood’ continues that theme using a Van Halen style riff, a glorious ’80s bounce similar to Prequelle‘s ‘Dance Macabre’, and former US Vice President Mike Pence as inspiration. After the brief segue of ‘Bite of Passage’ the album climaxes with the Victorian gothic of ‘Respite on the Spitalfields’. Based on the story of infamous murderer Jack the Ripper, the laid back but mischievous closer leans on everything from Alice Cooper and Nightwish to a string section reminiscent of ‘Still of the Night’ by Whitesnake and stands as arguably the most accomplished finale the band have recorded to date.

Ignoring pleas for more of Prequelle‘s unexpected saxophone, Forge resists the temptation to repeat himself this time, choosing to explore other avenues of playful extravagance instead. Guest musicians, pianist Martin Hederos, drummer Ricard ‘Hux’ Nettermalm and guitarist Fredrik Åkesson of Opeth help balance the warped Abba style melodies against classic rock influences such as Queen, Pink Floyd and Rush. Certain cuts might require a few spins but never take long to work their magic, and previously released songs are improved simply by being placed into their proper context.

For those who prefer their Satanic messages to be roared, croaked and shrieked across a howling void against a backdrop of buzzing guitars and relentless blastbeats, once again, Ghost most definitely remains None Of Your Business. Not that this warning will deter the internet, of course, where just a single mention of the band’s name is usually more than enough to trigger an immediate Pavlovian response from hordes of opinionated gatekeepers salivating furiously over their Caps Lock buttons. But the mere fact that Ghost keeps coming back, bigger and stronger each time simply proves one thing: the angrier the haters, the wider Papa’s grin.

Flirtatiously progressive but comfortingly familiar, Impera slithers between creeping cynicism, leering malevolence and joyful exultation. Often surprising but never disappointing, Ghost’s new empire has risen.

9 / 10

Ghost Cult Mag

[aiekerman]

Easy - Eren Jaeger

Eren Jaeger x Reader - fluff, college!au

AN - If you saw me post this before, no you didn’t. But in actuality it is a repost I just changed it to second person oops. But anyway, hopefully anyone who sees it for the second time likes it again lol. 

(A part 2 and/or prequel does exist for this in my brain if anyone was ever interested!)

Song vibes: Easy by Troye Sivan ft. Kasey Musgraves

Summary - Just a pair of friends that definitely do not like each other. But leave their rooms at midnight for each other with no hesitation, and know each other’s food orders, and are low-key affectionate with each other.  A pair of friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N: Hey :)

Eren drags his head out of his textbook as his phone goes off. Pushing stray hairs back off his forehead and out of his eyes. His tired eyes lit slightly at the sight of your name. His fingers quickly replying

Eren: Hey u

He glances at the time, 12.03 am, he frowns, worried whyyou were awake so late. Three bubbles appear on his screen as he waits for your reply to arrive.

Y/N: U up?

Eren: I’m texting u back aren’t I?

Her reply takes slightly longer this time, and his mouth crooks up at the side, picturing the eye roll you were most definitely doing.

Y/N: Shut up

You know what I mean

Eren: Yeah I’m up

Last minute studying

He pulls the phone from its charger and leans back in his chair, one foot against the desk leg and swinging back slightly. You take a little longer to reply and his eyes drift to the top of the screen where your contact picture is. His mouth betrays him again and a smile ghosts over it. 

The picture is simple. A candid of you sat proudly in front of a sandcastle you were making at the beach during spring break. Your legs splayed either side of it, covered in sand. You were smiling up at someone, probably Sasha, your hair a wavy, salty mess, blowing in the sea breeze.

Your reply finally comes, vibrating the phone in his hand and dragging him from his thoughts. He rolls his eyes at your message.

Y/N: Midnight Taco Bell run? :)

Eren: Have you been smoking?

Y/N: No I just also happen to be doing midnight work and have a craving

His fingers move to reply before another message comes through, very quickly, and he pauses.

Y/N: And I miss your dumb face

Eren: You mean my pretty face?

Y/N: I change my mind I’m asking Jean

Eren: Shut up I’m getting ready now

Y/N: :))

Eren chucks the phone over to his bed, staring at his textbook for a second. He knows he should keep studying, or better yet, go to bed. But he misses you too. He stands from the seat and shuffles around his room, quietly as possible. Armin was definitely asleep and would definitely make a dumb comment about Eren being whipped for someone he wasn’t even dating.

Eren brushes off the thought and pulls his sneakers on, swaps his gym shorts for sweatpants and scrapes his hair back into the best bun he can manage. 

After wandering out of his room he grabs his keys and wallet from by the door and shuts it over with the quietest click he can manage. 

On his walk to his car he sends one more text.

Eren: Getting in the car now

Eren: I’ll be like 10 mins

Y/N: I’ll be the cute one in pyjamas ;)

He laughs at the flirtatious message before switching on his car and driving off. 

His mind doubles back to what would be Armin’s comments on the situation. They weren’t dating, but flirting between friends was entirely normal. He shakes off feeling the need to justify his relationship with you. You were friends, best friends. That almost hooked up once. The first time you met. But now you were just friends.

Before he even realises it he’s pulling up at the kerb by your building, his eyes glancing up to the door and watching a shadowy figure emerge. His head leans back against the headrest when her form comes into the dim street lights.

You’re dressed the same as him, sweatpants hugging your hips and an oversized hoodie drowning your top half. He squints for a second, was that his hoodie? Nah, it probably wasn’t, you had similar taste in hoodies anyway. You push the hood back when you reach the car, a mess of hair tumbling out around your face. It resembled a bedhead, but he knew you well enough to conclude you’d been sleepily running hands through it all night to make the mess. Tugging at the roots in efforts to stay focused on whatever it was you were working on.

You tug the door open and pull yourself into the seat. Situating yourself before turning to him and pushing your glasses up her nose, foregoing contacts at this hour, ‘Hi.’

He smiles down at your smaller form, ‘Hey you.’

‘Let’s get going.’

He raises an eyebrow at you, watching you slide down in the seat. Your eyes are wide as you stare back, ‘What?’

‘Seatbelt.’

You roll your eyes and push yourself back up, reaching for the seatbelt, ‘Yes, mother.’

Hearing the belt click in place he pulls off, satisfied with your safety being secured.

You grab his phone from the cupholder, and push it under his face slightly, not obstructing his view but close enough for him to give it a quick glance and unlock his face ID for you. You start scrolling spotify and find your combined playlist, made with midnight food runs in mind. RnB starts flowing out of his speakers.

Dropping the phone back in the cupholder you turn to look at his profile, ‘So what you been studying for?’

‘Psychology final, not until next week but after I kinda bombed the midterm I don’t wanna be caught off guard. You?’

‘Final project is due in two weeks. I’ve kinda got it finished but I’m not sure.’

He smiles, knowing you were just being a perfectionist about it.

‘Am I gonna get to read it?’

‘Why do you want to?’ You laugh at him, looking over at his profile that was focused on the road ahead, but seeing his lip was pulled up in a smirk.

‘Cause you haven’t shut up about it all year, I wanna know if all the support snacks I’ve bought you have been worth it.’

You scrunch up your face and shove it down into the hoodie you were adorned in. It smelt like Eren. Wait, was this his hoodie?

‘Huh, nothing to say back?’ His grin is too smug as he steals a look at you. You glare up at him, ‘Shut up.’ 

Silence settles over you in the last minutes before you approach the destination. You push yourself up to sit when the glowing sign comes into view, your eyes lighting up again.

‘Drive thru or sit in?’ Eren questions, approaching slowly as he waits for an answer.

‘Sit in, please.’ He nods before swinging into a parking spot.

You both jump out and Eren rounds the car to your side, bumping you with his hip in greeting now you were out of the car. His hands are stuffed in his pockets but you grab hold of his sweatshirt sleeve gently as you start joking about how you had to sneak out without setting off Sasha’s food radar.

Inside you bounce ahead of him slightly, up to one of the self serve screens and start ordering. He smiles softly at how you had to shuffle the too-long hoodie sleeve up to let your hand emerge.

He comes behind you and places his chin on top of your head, watching as you confidently tapped at the different items.

‘You haven’t asked what I wanted yet.’ 

‘I know your Taco Bell order, idiot.’

‘Maybe I want something different this time.’

‘No you don’t.’

The screen goes black for a second while loading the checkout and he glances at your reflection. You push your glasses up your nose, looking up and sticking your tongue out at him when you see his eyes already on you. 

He smiles before ruffling at your already messy hair and standing back to pull out his wallet. Glancing up, he catches you doing the same and suddenly moves quicker, as do you. Whipping out his bank card and reaching around you to tap it on the terminal, the familiar beep of a successful transaction going off before you can push your card in the bottom slot.

Eren grins in triumph while you stuff your wallet back in the hoodie and grumble, ‘Stupid contactless card.’

You pull the receipt from the machine while he walks over towards a booth, dropping into the seat and stretching his legs out while watching you.

Your hands are shoved into the hoodie, you sway and shuffle around on you feet. Standing still was never one of your strong suits. 

A smile takes over Eren’s face as you yawn and rubs at your eyes, pulling the hood up over your head and pulling at the strings slightly. He chuckles at the image of your head being swallowed. You turn at the sound and frown at him, mouthing out ‘don’t laugh at me.’ Prompting his laughter to continue on.

He settles back in the booth when their number is called and you wander up to accept the tray of food.

Dropping yourself down across from him, the two of you automatically begin splitting out their food, almost instinctively knowing which packages were for who; Eren always had the nachos, you never deviated from fries. 

You ate in silence for just a moment before you pick up conversation again, ‘Are you gonna go to Jean’s party after finals?’

‘So bold of you to assume Jean could pull off a decent party without me.’ He smiled, stuffing a bite of his burrito in his mouth as you giggle. ‘What about you?’

‘I mean yeah probably, if everyone else is going.’

‘Well, Jean has got me and Connie roped in to help with set up, so Connie will make Sasha go, and Sasha will make Mikasa go, who will make Armin go, who will make sure I don’t flake off early and I’ll make sure you stay.’

‘Connie and I.’ You correct, reaching for your drink.

‘Shut up.’

‘Also, Eren Jaeger flaking early from a party is wholeheartedly unheard of.’

‘I left the last one early because someone needed to be walked home after throwing up.’

You pause with the straw at your mouth, eyes narrowing in a glare. 

‘You can’t get too messy this time anyway. Bertolt is gonna be there.’

You scrunch up your face in confusion, ‘Why’d you say his name like that.’

‘Because, you haven’t got laid since spring break, he’s cute and you said you guys have gotten super close from your fiction writing class.’

You roll your eyes at the tall boy’s explanation and shrug, ‘He’s kinda cute. I guess. And we haven’t gotten super close, we barely knew each other before the class.’

‘Exactly, he’s at perfect arm’s length for a hook up. You deserve it after all the stressing you’ve done this semester.’

You shrug again. Setting your drink back on the table and leaning back, your feet stretching out to bump against Eren’s, you think about it.

Eren watches you, yourr eyes staring out into space. Bertolt was cute, he didn’t get around that much from what Eren had heard of the boy, but he was sweet enough that he knew he could trust him with you, even just for a night.

But even as he looked you over, dark circles beginning to shadow under your eyes, figure swamped in your loungewear and hot sauce staining one edge of your mouth. You were way out of Bertolt’s league.

‘You’re probably way too good for him anyway.’

‘Even just for a hookup?’ Your eyes meet his green ones, your mouth showing a teasing smile starting to form.

He stuffs more burrito in his mouth and nods.

‘You think I’m too good for everyone.’

He swallows and reaches for his drink, ‘cause you are.’

‘Was I too good for you, is that why you didn’t have sex with me?’ You start grinning and laughing as he chokes on his drink. He leans an elbow on the table as he coughs, glaring at you through his lashes.

Eren sticks a hand out at you and gestures for you to cough it up. You pull a dollar from your wallet and stuffs it in his hand.

He imagines it’s the same dollar he gave you last week after he joked about your almost hook up. The metaphorical ‘don’t talk about the time we almost had sex’ jar was essentially the same dollar passed back and forth.

‘Was that one worth it?’ He raises an eyebrow at your giggling face as you reaches to open your crunchwrap, nodding in a satisfied manner.

You hold the hexagonal taco in your small hands and Eren chuckles. You eye him, taking your first bite and speaking out a muffled, ‘What?’

‘Your tiny hands always make those things look huge.’

‘Maybe your meaty boy’s hands just make it look small.’

He sticks a hand out in front of you, palm spread out to show the full size, ‘My hands are not meaty. And they’re no bigger than average.’

‘What are you talking about?’ You mirror him, lifting your hand to press a palm against his, the tips of your fingers just brushing above the second knuckle. 

‘Your hands are just tiny.’

‘No, they only look small because yours are huge.’

You both fall silent, two sets of eyes trained on your pressed together hands. Eren ignores the feel of his heart pounding up against his chest.

What was wrong? They’d held hands before? 

The ring of your phone blaring out an alarm drew both of them from the trance. Eren slid his fingers to interlock with your’s, playfully pushing your hand back towards your body.

‘Who’s calling you at this hour?’

‘No one, I, uh, I set an alarm for one thirty am. Otherwise we’d sit here all night, knowing the two of us.’

He lets out a small laugh, nods in agreement and starts to gather up your trash. His eyes run over your face just before standing, choosing not to make fun of the blush gracing your cheeks.

You stand and fall in stride next to him, bumping his hips with your own and poking his side, ‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Got your eye on anyone for Jean’s party?’

‘Nah, I’d rather just chill. I’ll probably spend half the night making sure Jean stays relatively sober for his own party.’ You laugh at the idea, nodding your head fervently. Jean usually ended up the messiest of the bunch.

The exit into the cold night air, and your body is immediately taken over with shivers. Eren rolls his eyes but loops an arm around your shoulder, his own body a constant furnace. You hum in appreciation, leaning into his side as he rubs at your arm.

Climbing into the car, he blasts the heat. This time you pull on your seatbelt with no need for prompting, your head turning to stare up at him, the raise of her eyebrows translating to You happy?

He stays quiet, pulling on a cheesy grin that answers back, Very.

You flop back into your seat, a yawn overtaking you and the heat of the car soothing you The effort to keep your eyes open immediately doubled.

‘You can close your eyes. I’ll wake you when we get to your building.’

You look at him with a sorry expression, ‘But I dragged you out I shouldn’t-’

‘Sleep, idiot,’ he cuts you off, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to run over your hair, long fingers running through it. Always a surefire way to make you sleepy.

You drift off quickly, a smile softly laid on your cheeks.

Eren feels his heart beating hard once again. He swallows it down. Focuses on the road. Just friends was easier.

[incorrect-natshig]

Do you have natshig fic recs? 👀

THIS IS MY NEW FAVOURITE ASK ANON TYSM💗💗✨

putting it under a cut bcs there's a whole lot more than you would've bargained for💖

The Blocked Hooligans by aphrodaisyacs (11.4k, single chapter) prequel

On January 24, Twitter users @diamond_dust404, @jackedfrost and @icespicebaby formed a group chat when they all got blocked by Endeavor’s official Twitter account. After nearly ten months of developing into a chaotic adoptive family of three, it all changes when Jacked Frost (Todoroki Natsuo) and Ice Spice (Todoroki Shouto) accidentally find out that they are brothers in real life. Clearly, the next step is to meet with their third member, right?

wii music by constellore (43k, 7/30 chapters)

If, five years ago, someone told Natsuo that not only was he going to find his long-lost older brother, but that he was also going to learn that his sister’s best friend was a villain, gain a sorta - kinda fake boyfriend in the leader of the League of Villains, and be partially responsible for the redemption of two of the most wanted men in Japan, he would have told them that they were nuts.

luminous things by cirriform (3k, single chapter)

Natsuo teaches Shigaraki how to fold paper cranes.

Bullet Wounds and Book Work by Mishafy (20.6k, ongoing)

Shigaraki Tomura, at Kurogiri's suggestion, joined a med school track to make up for the lack of a party healer. It just so happened that Todoroki Natsuo was taking the same online course.

The Todoroki In-Laws by aphrodaisyacs (30.6k, complete)

Over 10 years after the fight against the Paranormal Liberation Front, Rumi, aka the part-time hero Miruko and the proud wife of one Todoroki Fuyumi, decides it would be an awesome idea to create a groupchat with the significant others of the other Todoroki siblings. Maybe things would be easier if its members weren’t two Pro Heroes, a former one and a rehabilitated villain, but honestly, where’s the fun in that? (chatfic)

Lingering by thyandra (2k, single chapter)

Natsuo sighed, closing the fridge door. He was so immersed in his pointless musings that he didn’t immediately hear the furious buzzing nearby, muffled by a pillow as it was. That is, until the thing fell to the floor—Shigaraki’s phone, Natsuo recognized once he glanced that way. He shouted a call of his name, but only got a muffled grumble back. Shigaraki was no doubt too absorbed in his game to give a fuck about his still buzzing device, and Natsuo- Natsuo hadn’t really meant to catch a glimpse of the screen. (Tomura has Natsuo as his lockscreen. Natsuo finds out.)

Caught Me at a Record Low by nocturnalgf (9.8k, ongoing)

It starts, as many things do, in a dirty alley. Shigaraki is dying, probably, until Natsuo comes to help him. And after that, Natsuo can't keep himself away.

Shigaraki Tomura’s Walkthrough to Infiltrating a University, Getting a Boyfriend, and More by JajaLala (73k, complete)

In order to recruit Dr. Ujiko Daruma, his Sensei's old doctor who fled after his arrest, Shigaraki must infiltrate the university the doctor is now working at. Problem is, even when he and some League members enroll as students, they discover it's almost impossible to meet the doctor unless you're enrolled in his advanced seminar. Fortunately, Shigaraki meets Natsuo, a premed in Dr. Ujiko's seminar, whose trust he must earn to meet the elusive doctor. However, the two of them might have more in common than Shigaraki expects...

Snow Day by Sensationalcrazyna (700 words, single chapter)

Shigaraki hates snow, but he'll go for his boyfriend.

The Todoroki Family is a Disaster™ by Tigers101 (2.7k, single chapter)

The Todoroki family is a disaster, and family dinner is even worse. Or, Fuyumi is going to lose her shit because she's apparently one of the only sane ones.

we will dream of the sea by crumbsfiction (3.6k, single chapter)

It’s a mechanism of self-defense, after all - trying so hard to be liked. If he can gain Tomura’s approval, if he can prove himself to this group, Natsuo will be fine. It will all have been worth it, dragging his name through the mud in search of a ghost. Besides, watching Tomura comes easily - in fact, Natsuo barely has to think about it at all.

Hoodie by MangoQueen (1k, single chapter)

Shigaraki gets cold and Natsuo offers for him to borrow a hoodie

Dear Tomura, I Hate You. Now Let's Play Some Video Games by  IDealess_at_this (6.6k, ongoing)

Natsuo finds himself in the library after a terrible family dinner. However, after an unconventional meeting, he also finds himself being held hostage by the worst villain league ever. Getting revenge on his father while helping each member of the dysfunctional family through their struggles in the process doesn’t sound too bad!

and of course my beloved AUs💗

a coin to a crane by bittermoons (22k, 5/10 chapters)

Two ordinary (or so they think) high school students from Tokyo stumble upon another world through their dad’s dojo, leading to all sorts of bizarre consequences when they meet a cosplaying asshole of a kodama—a tree spirit—on the other side. Who knew useless video game knowledge and an unlimited cell phone data plan would come in so handy?

sugar and spice by bittermoons (4.7k, single chapter)

Shigaraki Tomura is a judge who hates soggy bottoms on The Great Japanese Bake-Off. Todoroki Natsuo is a stand-up comedian most famous on the web for making fun of his SO, who he calls 'Tanaka Taro' in all his routines. When Natsuo joins the crew of Bake-Off, online speculation explodes over his relationships with Shigaraki and Taro.

hazy days under august shade with you (it's all like magic to me) by constellore (8k, single chapter)

Natsuo is content living in the small village of Eadu, but when his brother becomes the victim of a curse, he's left scrambling for a way to undo it. Desperate for a cure, he manages to find the mysterious Magician of the Western Mountains—a man who raises far more questions than answers, especially when Natsuo finds himself volunteering to spend the summer in the mountains with him in order to aid him in breaking Touya's curse. Love had never been part of the equation, but between sweltering summer days and conversations in the dead of night, Natsuo can't say that he minds.

Love Comes Slow (and goes so fast) by Tigers101 (14.8k, single chapter)

"I’ve never been enough.” Natsuo's expression darkened. “I’ve always been the failure of a middle child, worthless and alone. I’ve never been anything to anyone." Tenko looked at him, his eyebrows creased in something close to anger. “Well, everyone else can go fuck themselves. You’re everything to me.” (natshig fantasy au + major character death)

Here Be Faeries by cafeanna (5k, single chapter)

“Terrible thing, terrible thing,” The burning man tusked and tisked. “Caught the eye of a Prince, gave a Name, and killed the King. Now he wears a crown of blooded amber and elk horn, and sleeps on a bed of thistle and roses. The King calls him frostbite, willow-boned, and beloved.” 

Natsuo Todoroki walked into the woods at the beginning of summer and never came out. A month later, Fuyumi and Shouto are left in the aftermath of a missing person’s case and a growing fear of the place they grew up.

Know That You Love Me (even when I lose my head) by Tigers101 (1.5k, single chapter)

“I hate you.” Tenko grinned. “No, I really don’t think that’s the case. You wouldn’t have saved me from homework if that were the case.” (natshig roleswap au)

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ The Death of Six - Edited version.

Greetings and salutations! So I know this isn’t what everyone wanted but people are still reading Zero to Six and I’m honestly so grateful that a year on, people are still loving this series.  But I never felt like I wrote it properly, the chapters where always too short and I felt like they were never detailed enough so I wanted to bring to you an edited version (that probably still won’t be perfect.) one that I’m more satisfied with.  I will be keeping the original version up just in case people prefer that one, maybe one day I’ll take it down? who knows but yeah so enjoy! <3 P.s I’ve missed you all so much and I’ve really missed this series. Hopefully sometime soon the Prequel will be out which I have started and named ‘Before there was Six, there was Zero.’

Characters: Four X Zero (OC) Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost.  Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff.  But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four.  Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet.  Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters. 

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​

Zero to Six ~ Part 2. Edited Version.​ Masterlist.

“You’re stalling.” 

“I’m not stalling.” Zero could practically hear the smirk in Fours voice over the coms. “I’m simply just working myself up to it.” 

She laughed. “You always say that, and you’re always stalling.” She was playing on his last nerve, she knew it but this would be good for Four and entertainment for her. He always worked better when he was frustrated and no one stressed him out quite like Zero.

Four had been doing parkour for most of his life, or that’s what he told them. Yet he was still fearful every single time, still I guess that’s what made him great at it the fear of always falling gave him the adrenaline he needed to make the jumps. 

Another breathless laugh fluttered through Zeros left ear. “Don’t test me darling.” Now it was his turn to make Zero sweat, this always happened. Zero would insult and tease and Four would flirt right back, although most of the team were used to it by now they still broke them up from time to time. 

“Whatever monkey boy, just be ready for when Six gets his ass in gear!” She clicked her tongue. “I can hear you mocking me asshole, remember I hold the key here I can make your life a living hell with just one click of a button.” 

“You already make my life hell darling, But I live for it everyday.” 

“Swear to god Four, you’re a pain in my ass.” She mumbled as she typed away at the computer trying to figure out their next move so she could be ready with any instruction they needed. 

“I’m sure your ass is pretty fine, I can’t wait to see it someday.” She could practically feel the smirk.

“Yeah? And I can't wait to punch the smirk off that pretty face one day, only you could be in a life or death situation and be thinking about my virtual ass.”

“Wait, did you just admit to fancying me Zero? Guys she called me handsome, I think I’m getting somewhere.” 

“Go for Four!” Saved by the bell it seems, One’s voice rang through coms. Zero silently thanked god for she did fancy Four, who wouldn’t fancy that absolute Greek god of a man? With that honey voice and the moves he had! moves he could use on her, she shook her head hoping the images of him forming in her head would magically fall out of her brain never to return, but she wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Shut the hell up, stop thinking about ways to seduce Zero and get your ass down here we need you!” And just like that, it was go time. “NOW!”

Zero had been working with this team for a while now, but she was more on the surveillance side of the missions, which meant that she had never officially met the team face to face. The only person she had actually met was One, who had recruited her. He would visit from time to time, she liked to think they had a special bond. She was in fact the first person in need that One had found and ever since then he had become a sort of father figure to her. 

Two was next who was sort of cold at times, Zero put this down to her CIA training but she had never been anything but caring towards Zero. Then she found Three, a hitman who she was reluctant to look into at first but she knew now it was the best thing for her and the team. Despite his past he was one of the most sweet and caring men she’d ever met, and he never failed to make her smile on a bad day.  Ever since recruiting Four, she felt the atmosphere in the group shift slightly, there was nothing bad about him but they both couldn’t ignore the growing attraction between them, and this was just over cyber space.  She then found her best friend in Five, she was different from the rest. Not as violent and rash but still amazing at what she did and protecting herself and others, Zero knew if she ever needed someone the first person she’d go to was Five. 

Six was her latest recruit, one that she knew was extremely talented in not only driving but in all things mechanical too, they had chatting a few times about servers and bots and he’d promised her a round in their shared favourite video game once this mission was complete. 

She’d be lying to herself and everyone else if she said she didn’t want to meet them all in person, they were the closest thing she had, had to family. However she knew that if she was to meet them nothing could ever come of her and Four. One would definitely not allow it, and most likely lock her straight back up.

Still they were sort of this dysfunctional family, and she was definitely the odd one out. She couldn’t remember the last time she had, had a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t ‘dead’ the only time she was allowed to leave the flat was when One said it was moving day. He didn’t like her staying in one flat too long, she must have moved at least four times this year already. While she was alone in her flat eating ready meals they were all back at base eating together, she sometimes pretended she was there eating with them. Three telling her some stupid story that no one else is listening to because they have heard it at least a thousand times, but she would just be so happy to hear his beautiful accent in person that she would listen to anything he was telling her.  How she wished she could hug three in real life. The closest she had gotten to eating with them was over coms, sometimes they would leave the line open for debriefing but it still made her feel like an outcast. 

“I’m coming down!” Everything was going wrong, Six had gone the wrong way. Which Zero wasn’t surprised to see as everyone in the car was shouting at each other, she sat there in her gaming chair drinking Dr Pepper and enjoying her fried chicken meal while everyone was losing their minds in the field. Maybe getting to stay in the comfort of her flat wasn’t so bad after all? 

“Good boy.” She praised Four. “Finally putting those parkour skills to use, other than robbing some innocent person.” 

Even before he started to speak she could tell he’d started to run because his speech came out in huffs. “Shut up, at least I can do parkour which makes me cooler than a girl who sits at her computer all day.”

She had to laugh. “What are you? Five years old? Try again when you can think up better come backs, I can’t take you seriously right now.”  

Wherever One moved Zero was never too far away from where the team worked, the first time the rest of the team worked this out was when Zero first used the drone to help navigate them someplace safe. That was also the first time she finally got to see Four in action, the image of him running along the rooftops like a monkey in the jungle both amused her and impressed her. Hence the nickname she had given him. But there were also times when he would have close calls, where he had nearly fallen to his death that’s when the breath would get knocked out of her and she would only calm when she knew he was safe on the ground again. 

“Right over you guys.” He said in a strained voice while leaping onto another roof.  

“So guys, just look out for the flying monkey above you. That will be Four.” Most of the teasing with Four was just to pass the time while they were out in the field having fun and mainly it was just way too fun to hear him get so frustrated.  

“Zero, that’s not helping us.” One said in a sing-song voice. 

“Maybe it’s not helping you, but it is definitely helping me pass the time.” All she could hear was a disappointed grunt from One which just made her chuckle,it was also very fun to piss One off.

“Six! SIX! Wrong way god damn it!” 

She cringed at how loud Four had screamed down the coms. “Come back! I’ve got an idea.”

“Ladies and gentleman, for the first time in his life Four has an idea!” She said mindlessly typing away trying to find the best route for them to escape by.

“You know what Zero, when we finally meet I’m going to run that fine ass of yours into the ground.” He all but growled.

“You can try monkey boy, but you’ll have to catch me first.” She smirked to herself, she secretly hoped that, that was more of a promise than a mere threat. “Oh, challenge accepted sweetheart. I’d love to have a game of cat and mouse with you.” 

“You two do remember that we are on a mission right now, right?” Six moaned. “What with you two flirting, and these absolute idiots fighting beside me in the car. I’m finding it very hard to concentrate on driving!” With every word Six’s voice got more agitated and louder.

“We are not flirting!” Both Four and Zero exclaimed together. 

“Aww they even said it at the same time!” Zero just rolled her eyes at One’s teasing. “No one cares, now both of you shut up so we can all get out of here.” 

“That’s it Six, keep coming towards me!” The drone was filming just above the action, once she’d wiped her hands and they were free from the grease on her chicken. She finally realised what Four was about to do. 

Suddenly the car that was tailing Six was being impaled by five metal tubes. “God, okay I’m definitely done eating now. That was so gross.” 

Then the screaming started to fill the coms. “Guy’s, what the hell are you doing?” All Zero could make out was something about an eyeball. 

“This is so stressful! Can everyone stop arguing and speaking over each other?!” Zero was getting agitated now. 

“YOU THINK YOU’RE STRESSED?! I’M TRYING TO DRIVE WHILST ALSO TRYING NOT TO KILL ANYONE, DID I MENTION I ALSO HAVE AN EYEBALL ON MY LEG?!” Six all but screamed down the coms, loud enough that Zero had to remove her earpiece until she was sure he was done with his rant. 

“Six sweetie,” she said as calmly as she could, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?” 

“DO I SOUND LIKE I’M OKAY ZERO?!” She knew he would say that, she finally let out the chuckle she was trying to hold as to not irritate him further.

“Sorry I was just asking. I swear I‘m not using your painful situation to make myself feel better.” She held her hands up in defence even though he couldn’t see her.

He just let out a huff. “I’m going to ignore you now Zero, you’re pissing me off more than these guys are.” 

After the commotion things went quiet for a while, there was now a helicopter tailing them so all effort and concentration went on losing it. While there was little chatter over the coms the main sound that dominated the air was the gunfire, Zero silently prayed to herself while she watched the drone that everyone would make it out of their first real mission alive. One finally found a route for them, conveniently inside of a building that would shelter them enough to lose the aerial surveillance they were under. 

“The drone will meet you on the other side, good luck and please try not to make too much of a mess in there Six. There are some priceless statues in there we would all like preserving.” Just as Zero finished her sentence she heard a loud crash.

“You were saying?” Six chuckled nervously. 

“You didn’t.” Zero stared shocked at her screen, mouth wide open. 

One was the one to respond to her though. “Unfortunately he did, don’t worry we’re all just as disappointed in him.” 

“Okay we finally lost the chopper, Zero do you have a visual?” One asked surprisingly calmly.

“You mean the bright green car, kind of hard to miss. Good choice Six you really blend in.” Zero laughed. “I see you, there are two black vans heading your way. Shake them off then head to the arranged rendezvous spot where Three will be waiting for you.” 

Six’s voice was strained when he spoke. “Listen, fast and convenient was what I was told to get. So that’s what I got.” 

Zero would have responded but she was more distracted by the sight of Four on a skateboard holding a launcher. He jumped off the board and leaped up onto the stone wall just as one of the black vans passed, he aimed and shot, never missing the mark. She was impressed for a moment but then saw the smug smile on his face, he looked directly into the drone and winked at Zero. She just scoffed, what an absolute show off.

“Seems like we have a superhero on our team.” Six laughed impressed. 

Zero scoffed again, but this time loud enough so everyone could hear it over the coms. “I wouldn’t exactly call him a superhero.” 

“Then what would you call me darling? A Greek god?” This is the thing about Four, he’d never met Zero in person but he knew exactly how to push her buttons. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the banter from time to time. 

“Hurm more like a vein asshole that thinks far too highly of himself.” She snapped back.

But he just laughed, the complete opposite of what she was expecting. “I mean everyone else loves me, might as well love myself too.” She rolled her eyes, She really couldn’t blame him though he was a very handsome man but no way in hell was she ever going to tell him that. “One day you’ll fall for the charm that everyone else falls for. I know you’re already obsessed with me.” 

“In your dreams Four.” 

“It already happens in my dreams, every night darling. I’d be happy to elaborate later on in a private chat.” Zero audibly gagged. 

“Guy’s can we please cut out the flirting until after the mission? We’re nearly there and I don’t think any of us want to hear whatever this is.” One sounded tired and Zero just laughed at how much their fighting annoyed the other members. 

“Yes boss!” She added in a salute even though One couldn’t see her, he could feel she was mocking him. 

Just then the drone cut out. “Shit! Someone shot down the drone. You’re on your own from here guys.” 

There was a commotion through the coms, one that didn’t sound at all good. Car tyres screeched, bullets rain down on the metal of the car Zero held her breath as she waited for anything. Even just a breath so she knew at least someone was still alive, her heart stopped when the line had been silent for too long she had to know what happened. 

“Guys, come on talk to me. What’s going on? Why are you all being so silent? What happened?” There was another breath of silence and her mind went straight to Four, she shook her head. No! She wasn’t going to let herself think about that, she scolded herself for getting too attached to the little shit.  

The was a crackle over the line, Five cleared her throat. “Six is dead, we’re in the van, the space is clear.”  

Zero sucked in a breath, she felt like her lungs were burning. “What?” 

“Zero listen to me, you need to turn off coms now.” One must have turned from the group, he was using his quiet, serious voice. “I’ll handle this okay, I’ll check back in with you later.” 

Just like that he was gone, she clicked the switch to turn off almost absentmindedly. She sat back in her chair, only snapping back to reality when she felt something wet fall on her hand. She softly touched her face to find her cheeks were wet, when had she started to cry? Six wasn’t someone she knew in person, he had been the last member of the team but still a very important piece of their puzzle. She thought about the game he had promised to play with her after the mission, this would never come to pass now. Now he was really dead, and it was all her fault.

For the first time Zero started to think about the whole team and if One’s master plan of being ghosts to take down the world’s evil was such a good idea after all, why had it taken a real death in the team for her to even think about this. What if it had been Four, she didn’t think she could live with herself if anything ever happened to Four, maybe it was a good thing they had never met. Seeing him in person, hearing his deep honey voice, feeling his warmth would definitely make her fall deeper then she already was. He was just a voice over the coms but behind that was a real person, one that probably wouldn’t even share the same feelings towards her. So she thought ‘Yes, It’s a good thing I’m behind this computer screen and not with them in person.’ She had to try to distance herself from now on.  

 ......

Just wanted to say one last Thank You! for the continued support for this story <3 

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Hellfire

This is a prequel to Exercises in Self Control, going into the events leading up to Enji's arrival on Reader-chan's doorstep from his POV.

You don't need to have read Exercises in Self Control to enjoy this fic, but I recommend it!

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Endeavor x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: Enji is possessive and thirsty in this fic so bear that in mind before continuing. Some of Enji’s fantasies involve dub con

Sequel Piece: Exercises in Self Control

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

For as long as he can remember, Enji has had problems sleeping. He’s counted the ceiling tiles, counted sheep, counted hours. He’s helped himself to cups of tea, herbal and otherwise. He’s tried meditating, he’s tried ASMR, all to no avail.

It doesn’t strike him as out of the ordinary that he can’t sleep tonight either. He stares at the ceiling, eyes wide open, listening out for the wind in the trees outside. He put chimes in their branches on purpose; something to ground himself every time he closes his eyes.

Tonight he’s grounded by something else; the warm body sharing his bed. He lies flat on his back and doesn’t look, listening to your soft breaths.

Enji is a grown man, now twice married, but this is the first time anyone has shared his bed. In his first marriage, he and Rei slept in separate beds. He visited her only occasionally and never bothered to stay the night, making sure to leave the moment the deed was done. Tonight you’re the intruder and his immediate instinct is to tell you to leave.

He can tell you’re asleep from your steady breathing and he wonders how you got so relaxed. His own children never slept in his arms even as babies but here you are, not just an adult but one he stole away, sleeping so calmly that for a second even he believes you’re an ordinary husband and wife.

You’re not, of course; your first conversation was your wedding vows. You became husband and wife knowing little more than one another’s names.

Against his better judgement, he turns to look at you, admiring what details of your face he can make out through the darkness. He knows you’re beautiful without looking.

Your beauty, in fact, was one of the first things he noticed about you and he remembers that moment with perfect clarity.

Even before Rei’s admittance into a hospital, it had been years since he felt welcome in his own home. It fell silent whenever he returned, his childrens’ laughter dying the moment he was in sight. He had always told himself it didn’t bother him; that they would understand when they were older. Everything he did, however cruel, was for their benefit in the long term.

Touya’s death was the first time he questioned it. Rei’s hospitalisation only drove the point home. For the first time in his life, he saw his house for what it truly was: misery and trauma under several layers of paint.

He couldn’t stand being there for more than a few hours, sitting alone in the dark with nothing to do but think. At first he stayed at the office for longer, taking on extra jobs and filing away paperwork long before it was due. It was a temporary solution and one that backfired spectacularly. He was greeted at work one day by smiling interns, who enthusiastically pointed out the piles of paperwork they had completed in his absence. They told him they’d done it so he could spend more time with his family and didn’t understand why he reacted with anger.

Enji realised then that he needed an alternative hiding place; somewhere no one knew him and he could spend the night alone.

He went from one bar to another, never settling down in one for too long. His reputation was crucial to his career and he didn’t want to risk being recognised.

It was with a great deal of reluctance that he finally arrived at a hostess bar. The owner was well versed in discretion and offered him his own table towards the back, as well as his pick of any of the hostesses. Enji didn’t bother to absorb any of their names or memorise their faces. Instead he asked for the owner himself to tend to him. He had a vested interest in his good graces and was therefore less inclined to gossip.

It became his routine for the next few months. Enji would finish up at the office and head straight for The White Rabbit , simmering in the corner as he sipped his drink. He stayed there until the early hours, returning to the estate once everyone else had already gone to bed and leaving for the office before they woke up.

It seems strange to him now. He used to be a regular, but he hasn’t been since he married you.

He remembers your first encounter far more clearly than you do. As far as you are concerned, your first meeting was in your home, the day he bought you from your father.

You couldn’t be more wrong, of course. He’s known you far longer than that.

Enji spent that much time at the bar that he came to know the regulars. He knew which men were married and booked hostesses to escape their wives. He knew which customers worked long hours in an office cubicle and came to the bar to let loose. He knew which ones were heroes as well and just as incognito as he was.

Among all of these customers was a familiar gaggle of six businessmen who very often dropped in after work. They were boisterous and very often blind drunk, booking multiple hostesses to sing karaoke with them.

One night in particular, you attended their table, carrying over a tray of crimson strawberry daiquiris. Your specialty, he found out later.

The businessmen were louder than usual that night and when Enji glanced over at them, it was with disapproval. He quickly became distracted, though, by something else entirely. You were setting a tray of drinks on their table, laughing and smiling as you tended to each customer.

Perhaps it was the backless dress you had on, showing off smooth, unblemished skin that reminded him of undisturbed snow and still waters. Maybe it was the coquettish way you fluttered your eyelashes as you spoke to them, giggling at their bawdy jokes and expertly dodging any of their attempts to take you by the wrist. Perhaps it was the way you left them hanging.

In any case, the next drink he ordered was a strawberry daiquiri and he relished the tangy sweetness, all while thinking of your lips.

That night, for the first time in many years, Enji fell into a deep slumber and deeper dreams. He dreamed about bending you over his desk, holding one arm behind your back and slamming into you so forcefully that you squealed. Your cunt fluttered every time his hips hit your ass, betraying how many times you had unravelled around his girth.

“Enji,” you whined, “Enji please .”

He slapped you across the ass at that, relishing the way you squealed in shock. He let go of your arm, eying the red marks he had left on your skin.

“It’s what you deserve,” he said in his dream, holding onto your hips and driving his cock in deep, so deep that you cried out and gripped the desk. He came so hard that it painted your insides and left him groaning in pleasure. He held you in place as his cock twitched and filled you with his seed, letting go only to shove his fingers deep into you to stop any drops from escaping.

“Enji,” you said, quivering.

He woke seconds later, pleasure running through him and semen covering his sheets. He cursed and threw himself out of bed, spitting obscenities as he rinsed his body clean.

For a moment, just a moment, he hated you. He was filthy, all because of you and your backless dress and long eyelashes.

You’re sleeping with your back to him tonight and he draws back the covers to admire it. He takes in your naked shoulder blades; the way the moonlight hits the curve of your spine. Not so long ago this view was enough to drive him mad.

The dream left an imprint, after all. He thought about it when he brushed his teeth, patrolled the streets, got into the bathtub at night.

He continued to attend the bar, telling himself it was because he liked the atmosphere and not because he hoped to catch another glimpse of your innocent smile.

He told himself he didn’t want you.

He didn’t want to defile you and fuck you senseless.

He didn’t want to fill your belly with yet more Todorokis.

You were a distraction and one he needed to be free of. He was Endeavor, the flame hero, the world’s number two. He couldn’t afford to fall into such debased habits as the businessmen who had tried to paw you. He was better than that, better than them and certainly better than you.

Every night he sipped strawberry daiquiris and masturbated furiously when he got home, fantasising about you in all manner of scenarios, each filthier than the last. He took photos of you as you worked and scrolled through them when he got home. He filmed you at the bar and watched it over and over, knowing what he was doing was wrong.

Heroes didn’t do this. He should have been protecting you from such terrible invasions of privacy, not enabling himself. Something about you, though, prickled at his skin. Something about the backless dresses you sometimes wore and the careful way you mixed drinks. He knew desire all too well, but never for a person. It was intoxicating; addictive. You were untouched and unspoiled and it drew him to you like a moth to a flame. He wanted to spend the rest of his life as relaxed as when he came all over his fingers, before reality sank back in and he remembered the ghosts lurking in every corner of his home.

One night, desperate to be free of you, he ventured into a nightclub and took a girl into the bathroom, pushing her down onto her knees in front of him and holding her in place to fuck her mouth. She had the same colour hair as you and that was why he chose her, pretending you were the one gagging on his cock. He thought it would help him; that once he got a fix he would stop thinking about you. Ultimately, it only made matters worse. The girl in the bathroom wasn’t you and every time he looked down at her he came crashing down to earth. He wondered what you would think of him if you knew what he had done.

It took him ages to cum that night, holding the girl’s head in place as it shot down her throat. She slumped over when he let her go, choking on semen and wiping her mouth even as he dropped notes down to the floor. Just like when he finished alone, Enji felt disgusted, tucking himself away and leaving the girl without bothering to express his gratitude.

He went to the White Rabbit straight afterwards, paying for you to stay at the bar and ordering his usual daiquiri. He expected to feel different, only to curse his own stupidity for ever thinking the woman in the nightclub could have compared.

He splashed out on bracelets, earrings and more, eager for you to wear them. The thought of them touching your body where he couldn’t made his mouth water, even though you never wore them. The only jewellery you ever wore was a set of plain earrings. Your mother’s, he found out later.

Meanwhile, his dreams only grew more obscene.

He dreamed of rescuing you from villains and insisting you spread your legs in exchange. He dreamed of hiring you as one of his house staff, permitted only to serve him without clothes. He dreamed of sitting you down on your knees before him and covering your face in cum.

He was a man possessed, desperate for any sight of you. The realisation came to him slowly: he didn’t only want to corrupt and break you anymore. He wanted you to desire him as he desired you. Perhaps even more.

He wanted you to want him, wanted you to let him touch you.

Every time he sat down in the bar, he almost managed to convince himself that your circumstances were different; that he truly was the honourable man the world believed him to be. He almost believed that his touches wouldn’t ruin you.

He was desperate and not only to be fucked, though refused to acknowledge it.

He told himself it was no weakness on his part, no dent in his armour. He wasn’t as vile or depraved as the businessmen who tried to paw you on a near daily basis.

He begged the owner of the White Rabbit to let him spend the night with you, begged him to leave the pair of you alone. He was quite convinced that he wouldn’t want you anymore the moment he had you in his arms. He’d find an imperfection on your body that would shatter the illusion.

The owner, being a shrewd businessman, refused him every time.

Enji isn’t proud of how cruel he became in his desperation. It wasn’t hard to break the owner into handing over your name, nor to track you down to your home address. It was all too easy to learn of your father’s gambling problems and difficult financial situation.

He was on your doorstep before he knew it, happy to pay any price to keep you under his roof, unspoiled and protected from harm. He was an honourable man, he told himself. He could keep his hands to himself.

It was what you deserved, after all.

You shiver next to him and he drags the covers back over your body, considering that you are the only person he has ever wanted and the only one to want him in return. He brought you into his home, yes, but you’re the one who sought him out. You’re the one who led him to the bedroom and shed your clothes willingly. He’s almost certainly spoiled your body, but if anything that makes him want you more.

He’s addicted to every inch of you: the feeling of being buried within you, the scent of your hair as he holds you close. You’re the only person he’s ever fucked for pleasure and he hasn’t been able to resist ever since. Even now that you’re asleep, he’s desperate for a fix. He feels starved of oxygen and it’s keeping him awake.

Not long ago, he would have prodded you awake and told you to spread your legs. Now, though, he rolls over onto his side so he no longer faces you, content to listen to your gentle breathing instead.

He curses under his breath as you begin to stir and squeezes his eyes shut, laying perfectly still as you yawn and turn over onto your own side to make yourself comfortable. His skin still prickles when you touch him, especially as you drape an arm around his chest and plant kisses on his shoulder.

“Enji,” you whisper, “are you awake?”

He doesn’t answer and you smile before burying your face in the back of his neck, the combined heat of your bodies lulling both of you to sleep.

He has no need of wind chimes to ground him anymore.

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

Storyline Study: Order Mentor

When you joined your Order at level thirty and met your mentor at level forty, each of the three was instantly revealed to be a different person altogether from the other two.

Tybalt Leftpaw, Lightbringer of the Order of Whispers, was on his first-ever field mission. He was very blatantly calling for you in a sort of undercover way, and simultaneously panicking when you tried to mention the full name of the Order. Your supposed mentor was as new to this as you, had a (sometimes very human-teenager) sense of humor, and had a rather sad backstory balanced by his good nature. You knew he liked apples.

Sieran, Magister of the Durmand Priory, was full of reckless abandon, disregard for authority, boundless curiosity and a heart for the little things. She was confident in her role and her ability, and unhesitatingly took you into dangerous places for the sake of exploration and adventure while brushing off rebuke like a tree sheds sap - even when it was heartily deserved. You learned to be rather frightened for her.

Forgal Kernsson, Warmaster of the Vigil, was an archetypal gruff, stern old mentor whose every drop of praise spoke volumes. But he also carried a sort of wildness to him, that rough edge from growing up a hunter in the Shiverpeaks, coupled with every willingness to say it like it was if it was true. He could be surprised, he could observe calmly when something was new, he could snark like the rest of them and even say things he didn't mean from time to time.

They all fought the dragons - they each more or less took it seriously. But Tybalt was a partner and friend, you were keeping Sieran in check, not the other way around, and Forgal trained you mercilessly.

You all grew together - they had each changed for the better by the time they died. Tybalt had learned that he was worth something, Sieran had learned friendship was worth everything, and Forgal had learned... well. He'd found a student to be proud of, a partner to fight with, a friend to trust... a child to carry on his legacy. But I'm not sure, exactly, what Forgal learned - what the point of his story was.

Sieran was more-or-less well suited to her role in the story; she symbolized innocence and cheer and optimism and the beauty of the world - so you could recognize what was being lost by the dragon's onslaught. Tybalt's story was one extremely well-suited to his character; he taught you that working together was vital to survival, even when neither of you knew exactly what you were doing - a valuable lesson as the story progressed. Both of their stories fit well enough into the three-mission story sequence concluding in their death.

But Forgal was different. He was the mentor who dies partway through. He was the one who trained you and taught you all he could, who died imparting one last gem of wisdom. Or, he should have.

I am not attacking Forgal. I am attacking ArenaNet. We had too little time with Forgal for the story Anet was trying to tell with him. He was like Obi-Wan but without showing up again as a ghost, without the prequels, without being able to send Luke to Yoda - without, most significantly, being able to explain why he'd said Luke's father was dead.

We don't know Forgal. We don't understand him. We only know his family died to Icebrood... but why is he with the Vigil, specifically? Why is he a good friend of Almorra's - allowed to butt in and insult a diplomatic ambassador with barely a reprimand? Forgal is the character that tells me the Vigil has been around decades, not a mere five years. Was he in another military? Forgal was over a hundred years old. You don't join a military at that age and, five years later, are a highly self-disciplined warrior such as he was. Maybe he was Lionguard? Hear this: Forgal is actually older than Lion's Arch. If he'd survived, he would have been old enough to bear witness to all three incarnations of that city. But, apart from being able to recognize the Orrian Scout on sight, this is only a trivial piece of lore.

After he judged us worthy, we should have had long training sessions with him - sparring matches wherein he would easily fend off our blows while simultaneously teaching us about the world, all the wisdom he'd gathered, expounding just a bit on the history of the Elder Dragons (perhaps customized for player's race!) - and then we go off and have a real Vigil mission. Perhaps remove the racial sympathy 'choice' and have all five! A sparring match before each one, with a different lesson (the racial sympathy missions were awfully short anyway). And if you want to keep the idea implied by the term 'racial sympathy,' you could change the tone of some of them, make the player more reluctant and Forgal more impatient, have a middle-of-mission lecture on why it's important to work with everyone - this way you joining an Order feels less 'oh you've always been sympathetic to other races' and more 'wait who are these people.' But you know the real kicker? These training sessions would have made us actually feel like we were a treasured part of his life, the kid he never had, that he takes the effort to train us and takes the time to correct us when we're wrong, that he shares his history with us.

And then, at Claw Island, he would place a hand on our shoulder and tell us - hey - don't worry. You did good. You tell my tale and you take my lessons and put them to good use, you hear me? Listen to Trahearne over there - I've told you a bit about him - he's a good kid, he's smart and he knows what he's doing. And - partner? Partner, I need you to put me down if that blasted dragon raises me.

And we're in tears and Trahearne standing there also puts up a fight and tells him not to go, but Forgal goes anyway, roaring his defiance at the dragon - and his famous line, "you may win the battle, dragon, but you will never defeat our spirit!" And maybe he adds - "you may defeat me, but I will be avenged!" like some cartoon villain only you know - you know that means you.

That is the storyline Forgal deserved. (I selfishly also fixed it just a bit with regards to Trahearne, but...) I don't care if we add an extra ten or twenty levels to the game to account for the four extra racial sympathy story chapters.

And see, now you'll argue that that's biased in favor of Forgal, to do all that with him but not the other two - and that's part of the idea.

Forgal isn't like the other two. He shouldn't be compared to the other two. The storyline we have is good for the other two. Extending their stories would feel... false. Yes, there are supposed to be parallels between the three Orders, but... in that case, ArenaNet should have done something entirely different with Forgal.

How about this: Almorra assigns us to someone else for a mentor, but we show such epic promise she switches us to Laranthir. His storyline? It's right in his idle dialogue at the Vigil Keep - he's always sought love. This puts his storyline on par with Sieran and Tybalt. What about Forgal? He's a Lionguard that all three Order mentors know well. We do racial sympathy with Forgal plus our Order mentor (doing those with only one ally is kind of absurd anyway). This can help set-up and foreshadow the tactical significance of Claw Island, too - and hey, maybe Forgal can even survive that! Or maybe he doesn't survive it but our Order mentor does! (Yeah, that fits better, since Laranthir is important in HoT.) And then, once the Pact is formed, their stories end more naturally without regard for the Order parallels, which would keep the story unique - where your choice of Order still matters even when it doesn't anymore. Tybalt didn't have to die - in fact, it's kind of absurd that he did since his story was about finding his own heroism, and then he dies. He can die later, perhaps, after he's thoroughly proved himself. (And hey, throw in an encounter with his old warband! Bonus lore points!) And Sieran 0 maybe Sieran could go through a heartbreaking transformation in Orr, the land of the dead - you see something far more heartbreaking than her death as she loses her spirit, and you and Trahearne both resolve that even if you're super-busy with the Pact, you can still cleanse Orr together to save Sieran. (This makes cleansing Orr a personal thing for you as well as Trahearne!) And Laranthir - well, I don't know what he was doing originally. Maybe he stayed back at the Vigil Keep to manage things, but you still see him now and then and he gives good advice and (since his storyline was about falling in love or something) you get to tease him about whatever's going on in his life, and then later he shows up again in HoT.

I'm going to stop - I already just presented a rough outline of a whole rewrite of core PS, I'm not going to step into HoT territory. (But since his storyline was about falling in love - ? Anything could happen really. Maybe his love died in the crash (we don't actually know of any characters who died in the actual crash. Awful shame) and that's why he takes the lead against Mordremoth. That would give him a cool motive.)

Anet I want this now.

I only wanted to say how unfair Forgal's story was to him, and then I came up with this whole thing - ? Some of it included a few helpful fixes for the Trahearne hate - this isn't something I can write out into a whole fic since I have a main fic and while this is a significant AU it's not quite enough for a whole fic but also far too much for just a headcanon - maybe I'll invent a new Commander.