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professorsnape394 · 4 years

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The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Sixteen: Halloween

A/N: This is the sixteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 5342

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment, alcohol consumption.

Credits to Gif Creator

"Harry Potter." Dumbledore whispered, his lip almost trembling as he read the scrap of parchment that had just been spat out from the goblet.

The hall felt silence.

"Harry Potter." He spoke louder, looking furiously around the hall.

All eyes now searched for Harry.

"Harry Potter!" Albus yelled for a final time.

Aria felt her heart pound in her chest, surely this was a mistake, he wasn't even of age. She looked to her right, hoping Severus would provide some reassurance, though he too seemed just as shocked as she.

The young Gryffindor rose gingerly to his feet, being forced up by his friends and classmates. He seemed petrified, and just as confused as everyone else.

Students heckled him as he walked through the hall, assuming he had found some way to cheat the system. Neither Snape nor Aria believed this could be the case.

Aria Dumbledore stumbled slightly on her heels as she looked around desperately for someone to correct the situation. Without thinking she gripped her hand around the potions masters arm, clinging on for dear life. "Severus." She pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation, brow furrowed in frustration. "He's only fourteen."

Snape looked down at his apprentice, the look in her eyes paining him possibly more than the thought of the young boy competing in a deadly tournament. He opened his mouth to speak, almost about to place his own hand onto hers. But froze as Harry approached the Headmaster, and the parchment was thrust into his hand.

Severus broke away from Aria, turning his gaze outward as the boy came face to face with him.

Still completely shell shocked Harry made his way out of the room, earning a reassuring motherly tap from Minerva McGonagall on the way before disappearing along with the other Tri-Wizard champions.

Instantly the remaining students were dismissed back to their dormitories while a commotion broke out among the professors.

Both Headmaster Karkaroff and Madame Maxime outraged at the mere prospect of Hogwarts having two competing champions. The resident professors however, were far more concerned with Potter's safety than having a leg up in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Dumbledore flew from the room, Severus following at his heels, and all the other teachers not far behind. Minerva faltered for a second, falling in line with Aria as they made their way from the room, clinging to each other desperately.

"Harry Potter, did you put your name in the goblet of fire?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"No sir." The boy stuttered, his eyes darting between the crowd of professors.

"But of course, 'e is lying." Olympe accused, towering above even Hagrid.

"To hell he is." Mad- eye moody stepped forward. "The goblet of fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object, only an exceptionally powerful confundus charm could have hoodwinked it, magic way beyond the talents of a fourth year."

"You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought, Mad-eye." Karkaroff spat in return.

While the two men continued arguing, Aria broke arms with Minerva, once again working up the courage to approach Severus. Bringing his attention away from the chaos, she wrapped both hands around Snape's bicep, forcing herself closer to him. "Please." She begged.

Severus faltered. He saw the desperateness in her eyes, as well as in his friend Minerva's. He knew they both cared deeply about the boy. But what exactly was he meant to do?

"The rules are absolute." Barty Crouch sr. spoke. "The goblet of fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr. Potter has no choice, he is, as of tonight, a Tri-Wizard champion."

Severus locked eyes with Aria, wishing he could do more. Slowly Aria let her hands fall, she knew now he would not intervene.

Back in the potions classroom, Aria had almost become furious with Snape for not speaking up. Severus on the other hand, was getting sick of the woman going on at him about it, and was rather more concerned with why she chose to hold him in the way she did. A thought that hadn't let his mind since her fingers left his arm.

"I cannot believe you didn't stop them, Severus. Harry is not skilled enough to compete, not to mention the competition is renowned to be deadly. I can't believe it's actually still allowed to continue."

"And what exactly did you expect me to do Miss Dumbledore?" Snape questioned flicking his cloak behind him as he took a seat by his desk. "Barty said it himself. The rules are absolute, he is contractually bound. Nothing I could have said would have made any difference."

"But you could have tried." Aria whined, slamming her palms on the desk.

"And achieved what?" Snape shot up, his tone sharpening. "You overestimate my influence in this school, Miss Dumbledore. While your grandfather may rely on me for trivial duties, that is where my power stops." He snapped, getting annoyed at the woman for consistently guilting him.

"But you must know he didn't put his own name in, he couldn't have!" She persuaded, exasperated.

"Whether I believe he did or did not is irrelevant. He is competing and that's the end of it. That also goes for this conversation. I don't want to hear anymore of it." Snape warned, his eyes piercing into her. "Take the rest of the day off." He commanded.

Given that it was Saturday he had no right to keep her there anyway, though the witch had hoped she could spend the day with him, even if it meant giving themselves more work. Now that she had been banished from the classroom the prospects of her day were low and given that it was Halloween she suspected almost all of the students would be hauled up in their dorms throwing their own private parties. She had heard from Fred and George that it wasn't uncommon for the Gryffindor common room to be host to a number of events throughout the year, today certainly wouldn't be any exception.

Thinking of the students enjoying themselves sparked an idea for Aria. If they students were having party, why couldn't the professors?

Aria dedicated her day to doing her rounds of the school inviting every professor and member of staff she could think of to a party in the staff room that evening. It appeared the professors were just as in need of a night off as the students were, by the looks of it the party planning had gone quite successfully.

* Making her way briskly through the dimly lit dungeon corridor, Aria headed for the Hogwarts staff room, hoping not to cross paths with any suspicious looking rogue students on her way. As she passed by the old wooden door of Snape's office it occurred to Aria she had neglected to invite one crucial member of staff to this evenings event.

"Fuck." She groaned, running a hand through her sleekly styled hair.

Teetering on her heels Aria debated knocking on the door. Though it was highly unlikely Severus would even want to attend her party, she knew it would inevitably be better asking him at the eleventh hour than to not ask at all.

Braving the knock, she prepared herself for the ridiculing she was bound to receive.

A moment or two passed with no response, assuming Severus was located elsewhere, Aria chose to let herself in, just in case.

To her surprise Severus Snape was sat, hunched over his desk as he usually was. Only this time his desk was no longer cluttered with papers but displayed a singular framed photograph, which seemed to captivate Snape. He was evidently deaf to the world.

Coughing lightly to declare herself, Aria gently shut the door behind her.

"Professor Snape." She announced trying to get on his good side, though a hint of surprise and embarrassment remained.

Straightening his posture, Snape extended his arm slowly, slamming the picture face first into the desk, desperate to keep it hidden.

"Miss... Dumbledore." He droned, eyeing the woman up and down. A slight look of disgust forming on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I... I erm... I've arranged a small get together in the staff room tonight; you know, some drinks and snacks and music, since it's Halloween and all. I was wondering if you wanted to come?"

"I think not, Miss Dumbledore." He said, instantly turning away, disinterested.

"Of course: I understand." She nodded her head nervously. "It's so last minute, I doubt many people will come anyway, to be honest with you." She shrugged, shuffling on her feet.

Snape looked up from his desk, watching the woman squirm, he almost pitied her.

"Professor Flitwick informed me of your little 'get together' earlier this afternoon Miss Dumbledore." His voice dropping with boredom. "It seems the whole faculty is excited by the prospect of a party. I wouldn't worry about attendance too much."

Aria's heart practically flew out of her mouth. It hadn't crossed her mind for one single moment that Severus would have interacted with anyone besides herself today, let alone been discussing social events.

"Fuck." Aria said again, under her breath. "I meant to tell you Severus, honestly. It slipped my mind, I didn't mean to leave you out. I feel so stupid. I'm so sorry." She rambled.

"Relax, Miss Dumbledore." He commanded. "Whether I knew about your party or not has no affect on my decision. I wouldn't have come either way, I assumed you would know better than to invite me, it's a waste of time and energy for the both of us."

"Oh, I, er... I thought maybe since it was me, you might have reconsidered." The words had come out of her mouth before she had even realised what she had said. What made her any different from any other Professor?

"Don't flatter yourself, just because I am forced to work with you everyday does not mean I am willing to change my entire personality for you." Snape scoffed.

"I just meant- oh what's the point, your right, this is a waste of time, I'll leave you alone."

The witch turned to leave, one hand reaching for the door, before she heard the voice of the potions master speak up again.

"Wait." He demanded. "I'm curious. What exactly are you supposed to be?" The potions masters eyes travelled up and down the girl, inspecting her outfit for any trace of a costume.

"Oh." She stopped in her tracks. "I'm a sexy devil." She grinned, showing herself off and brandishing a pair of cheap plastic horns and a pitchfork she had been anxiously twiddling behind her back.

"Of course you are." He scoffed, rolling his eyes in disgust.

"I got them from Zonko's, it was the best I could do at the last minute." She shrugged, shying away.

Reaching again for the door handle, Aria froze, spinning back on her heel.

"Who is she?" She asked abruptly.

"I'm sorry?" Snape retorted, baffled that she dare even ask.

"You got a question, now I do too. Who is she?" The Professor nodded to the toppled over picture frame.

"How do you-"

"I just do. Who is she?" Aria pressured once more.

"A friend." He answered simply.

"Do you love her?" Aria couldn't help but pry further, though she had no idea why she wanted to know.

Severus simply looked up from his desk, his eyes connecting with Aria's. They shared a knowing look, neither of them needing to verbalise it.

"Oh." She responded, pressing her glossy scarlet lips together. "I guess you're not as heartless as you pretend you are after all." She smirked, finally leaving the room.

"Severus couldn't make it then?" A feline-esq Mcgonagall asked, joining Aria next to the drinks table.

"No." Aria replied. "He was busy. I shouldn't have expected him to anyway, this isn't exactly his sort of thing is it?" She said looking around at the crowd of professors disguised as pirates, superheroes and zombies, casually chatting and swaying away to the music.

"I shouldn't think it is." Minerva agreed, taking off her pair of false cat ears, giving her head a moments release. Aria couldn't help but laugh at her choice of costume, which I'm sure was professors desired reaction.

Pouring yet another drink Aria felt herself swaying back and forth in her heels, the alcohol was finally beginning to take its toll.

"Pace yourself, my dear, the night is still young." Minerva chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

"Sorry." Aria chuckled, gulping down the rest of her cocktail, completely ignoring the advice from her friend. "It's just been a while since I've allowed myself to get drunk, ya know, the side effects don't agree with me much."

"Well your still young I suppose, people your age often are out partying every weekend. I think you should allow yourself the luxury just this once, eh. The side effects are tomorrow's problem." The older woman winked.

"God, I hope not." Aria whispered, but continued pouring drinks nonetheless.

"Join me?" Aria said, clumsily pouring two very large shots, for the pair to down. "Let's get a bit more life into this party, shall we?" She announced, turning up the music and began filling a tray of shot glasses up, passing them around the room.

"Everyone gather around and let's make this interesting." The young woman mischievously announced.

Lining up numerous shots glasses and filling them with various miscellaneous liquors, Aria waited for the staff to gather round the table.

"Truth or dare. Alcohol edition. If this doesn't get us all absolutely hammered by the end of the night, nothing will." She laughed, hoping that getting these witches and wizards drunk and spilling some secrets would be a bit more fun that just standing around talking.

"And on that note, I feel this may be my cue to retire for the night." Dumbledore informed, taking Aria by the hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You lot have fun." He smiled, chuckling to himself as he walked away.

One hour, two bottles of tequila and several very very drunk professors later Aria Dumbledore was satisfied with her attempts at spicing things up. The game had begun to wind to an end, with a couple of teachers tapping out, a few more passed out, and, in the case of Hagrid and Olympe Maxine, making out.

"Your turn again Aria; truth, dare or drink." Aurora Sinistra enquired. The small crowd buzzed, hyping her up as she carefully considered her decision.

"Truth!" She shouted, chickening out of yet another dare, and she truly did not think she could handle one more shot.

"I have one for you." Igor Karkaroff confessed, seemingly appearing from out of nowhere and plopping himself down in the empty space next to Aria.

"Then go ahead." She allowed, gathering her legs in a basket and turning to face him.

"How do you really feel about Severus Snape?" He breathed, his face inching closer to hers the longer she paused to think. The few invested professors fell silent eagerly anticipating her response.

"How do I feel about Snape?" She slurred, letting out a small amused laugh, as her body continued to sway towards Igor unknowingly.

"He's... curious." She began, finding her words amidst a sea of drunken thoughts. "He has the capacity for love and friendship just like the rest of us, yet he chooses to be mean-spirited. And for what? No apparent reason but his own satisfaction. He can be rude and arrogant and cruel. And despite it all I try my best try to show him kindness, but where does that get me? He calls me out in front of practically the whole school? That was so fucking humiliating, and I'm just supposed to forgive him? I think it's safe to do say I'd live a happy life, if I were to never see that man again."

"It's seems you've had a bit of time to think about this? I assumed you and Severus were friends." Madam Pomfrey commented, as the room fell silent.

"Can anyone really be friends with that man." Aria scoffed, beginning to feel uncomfortable, as it became clear to her that others did not share the same opinion.

"Admittedly Severus can be a hard man to get along with. But really he's not so bad once you get to know him." Minerva informed. "While he may not show it, he does care. Give him another chance, Aria, it takes a while to warm up to him."

Aria gave a small nod, thinking now might be a good time to wrap things up. She felt guilty for saying such bad things about Severus but it had also been some what of a release to get it all out there before she was truly able to forgive him for all the horrible things he said.

Picking up her scattered heels she had abandoned some time ago, Aria decided to call it a night.

Severus Snape had barely moved from the moment Aria Dumbledore had left his office. He sat frozen in time, simply staring at the picture of her. It had become routine for him at this point, every year, on Halloween, he would mourn the life of the woman he had once called best friend. He thought back to that night when he found her, murdered by the man he had put his faith in, the man he believed would spare her life, the man he vowed from that point onwards, he would help put an end to. It was on this day every year, he reminisced on his life full of regrets.

It was then he heard a small amount of commotion and scuffling echoing through the dungeon corridor. Assuming it would be a couple of excitable teenagers Snape made his way out, ready to deduct a couple of house points for disrupting his evening.

Unable to distinguish any facial features in the dark, Snape listened carefully to the drunken mumbles from down the hall. As he closed in on the pair it became clear to him that what he once assumed to be a playful make out session, was in reality an act of unwanted attention. The female was clearly drunk and struggling to dissuade the man's advances.

Illuminating the tip of his wand, Severus ripped the man away from the woman, thrusting him into the light. "Karkaroff?" Snape winced, releasing his tight grip on the headmasters collar. Slowly coming to terms with the reality before him, Snape's eyes darted towards the woman, who, seconds ago, had been pinned to the cold stone wall. Pealing away the curtain of hair from her face, Aria timidly revealed herself.

"What the fuck are you doing Snape?" Karkaroff grumbled, stumbling backwards, struggling to keep his balance.

"I could ask you the very same question, Igor." Severus seethed, pressing the tip of his wand firmly into Igor's neck.

"No need to get so defensive." Karkaroff chuckled. "Do not believe this innocent act, she wants this just as much as me. She's gagging for it, Severus, you should know that more than anyone." He burped grotesquely, making a move in Aria's direction.

Instantly forcing himself between the ex-deatheater and his assistant. Severus dug his wand deeper into the man's skin. "Do not come any closer, Igor. I suggest you leave now and hope to God that Dumbledore doesn't hear of this."

Karkaroff paused for a second, running his tongue along his bottom lip in contemplation. Slowly closing the gap between himself and he potions master, Igor Karkaroff whispered into his colleagues ear. "I can wipe her memory straight after, no one needs to know. Go back into your chambers and forget you ever saw anything. I wouldn't blame you if you did the same."

"You disgust me." Snape spat, shoving the man away from him.

Karkaroff laughed sinisterly once again, seeing no real severity of his actions. That was the last straw for Severus. Swiping his wand across his face, a small but painful cut began to appear on Igor's cheek, a tiny pool of blood quickly forming and spilling down his face.

"Go. Now. Before I regret letting you off so lightly." The potions master commanded.

Having silently witnessed the whole exchange, Aria felt her pulse racing, feeling utterly helpless in her drunken state. Half expecting Severus to simply turn and leave, Aria begun to fiddle with the hem of her dress, not wanting to see him walk away. To her surprise a warm hand rested itself on her bicep, defrosting her body from the outside in.

"Are you okay?" Severus asked sincerely concerned.

Aria nodded her head repeatedly, but refused to meet her mentors gaze. "He didn't really do anything. He... he just wanted to come in for a nightcap." She tried to convince herself.

"I think we both know what his intentions were." Snape droned, agitated by her stupidity.

"Thank you." She said solemnly, her eyes finally meeting his.

Acknowledging her appreciation, Snape turned on his heel ready to finally retire for the night.

"Wait, Severus." She spoke up, finding her voice again. "I could use some company tonight. Do you mind if I join you?"

"It's been a long day, Miss Dumbledore. I was planning on getting at least some sleep tonight."

"I understand." She hung her head, embarrassed for even asking.

Looking down at the disappointed look on the young woman's face, he did not have the heart to leave her after what had just happened. Letting out a hefty sigh, Snape made his way to his office, throwing open the old oak door, waiting patiently.

"Come on then." He offered, motioning to the empty room.

"Do you mind if I...?" Aria gestured to a rogue bottle of FireWhiskey. "For the nerves."

"Go ahead." Snape permitted, settling back down behind his desk, while Aria made herself at home in his office.

Truthfully Aria had found herself becoming rapidly more sober by the second and she was desperate to put an end to that feeling as soon as possible. She was already embarrassed enough without the risk of Snape asking anymore questions.

"How was your little party." Severus pondered, having nothing else to occupy him.

"Not bad. Would have been better with you there though." Aria confessed, taking a seat on the edge of Severus' desk, gulping down her glass of FireWhiskey.

"I doubt that that is true." He droned, rolling his eyes, unconvinced.

"Of course its true, you're my friend Severus. Why do you find it so hard to believe that someone could enjoy your company." She raised an eyebrow at the potions master.

"There is not much to like about a man like me, Miss Dumbledore. I simply do not see the appeal." Leaning forward in his chair, Snape averted his gaze.

"Well I do." Aria assured firmly, refusing to take her eyes off the man in front of her. "And clearly you were open to friends in the past. You speak of this woman for instance, the two of you were friends." She tried to get him to open up.

"For a while." He replied simply.

"See."

"When we were children." He elaborated, once again meeting her eyes. "And that brief phenomenon ended when the prospect of a better opportunity arose for her." Snape added bitterly.

"That cannot possibly be true." Aria scoffed, unconvinced he was telling her the whole truth.

"That, coupled with my less than amiable personality, and a few harsh words drove her away for good. And with final nail in the coffin being just that, there is no hope for a reunion any time soon." He finalised, his tone harsher and more agitated than before.

"Is that a habit of yours then?"

"Is what a habit of mine?"

"Attempting to drive away your friends by insulting them." She said it only to be playful, hoping to coax a small smirk from him, but clearly that night was still a sore spot for him, even more so than it was for her. "Why don't you allow yourself the simplest bit of happiness, Severus. I know for a fact there are many Professors who think very highly of you, if you only let yourself be liked, you would have a great number of friends."

"What makes you think I want friends, Miss Dumbledore." Snape relaxed in his chair, finally turning his full focus to the young woman. "Has it ever occurred to you I am like this for a reason. That I like to be alone. That I drive people away simply because I do not want them in my life."

"I don't believe that for one second."

"Why?" He challenged. His temper beginning to boil at the woman's unyielding persistence.

"Because you loved her, Severus." Aria Dumbledore blurted. A moment of silence filled the room, the pair both slightly in shock that she dare speak the words, that Severus Snape was capable of love, aloud. Nevertheless she chose to continue, seeing no harm in speaking her mind now. "She was your friend and you loved her. I know it broke your heart when she died. And I know your trying to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But you must let yourself be vulnerable, or else what is the point in living? I am determined to be your friend, Severus Snape. And while I know that probably terrifies you, you really do not have any say in the matter. If you truly liked being alone, you would have left me out in that corridor tonight." She finished with a sigh.

Hoping off the desk to pour another drink, Aria's mind hummed away. Something felt different between her and Severus tonight. Despite at first being thrown off, and admittedly, slightly jealous of the woman in the picture, it had given her hope. Not fully understanding what she was feeling, she decided to blame it on the booze. Whatever it was, was tomorrow's problem.

Intending to join Aria for a drink, Severus ventured out from behind his desk, meeting Aria in the center of the room. Having practically read his mind, she presented her friend with a very large glass of Firewhiskey, and began to make a start on her own. As the cold glass balanced on the edge of her lip, Aria suddenly became hyperaware of how close her and Severus' bodies were. His fingertips grazed her own as he made to take the glass from her, clearly lingering for much longer than necessary. Aria darted her eyes in his direction, wondering if he too noticed their closeness, she found him staring right back at her. With no sign of uncomfort or anxiety visible in his face, Aria felt her heart begin to beat faster than ever, and her palms became instantly sweaty. Gulping down the remainder of her drink, she slammed her glass down on the desk, turning to the door.

"I think I should go." Aria swallowed nervously, refusing to meet Severus' gaze. "Let you get some rest, finally. It's already so late."

She was panicking and rambling. It was obvious to both her and Severus. But the way he looked at her. She had never seen him look at anyone that way, he didn't look as harsh or mean or unimpressed as he usually did, and that terrified her. Though it wasn't how he looked at her that scared her, it was how it made her feel. Butterflies inhabited her stomach, her heart pounded in her chest, and her throat scratched when she spoke it had become so dry. She knew she had to get out of there before she done something she might regret.

"Aria, wait." Severus called out, placing his glass next to it's twin, though his remained untouched.

It was the first time he had called her by her first name. It felt so... intimate. She loved the way it sounded coming from him. His velvet monotone made her name sound so smooth and delicate. She could listen to him speak forever, she thought to herself. Shaking herself back into reality, Aria forced herself to turn and face Severus.

Without missing a beat Snape closed the gap between them, pulling her body close to his; one hand resting on her waist, the other cupping the back of her head. Before either of them knew what had happened the pair found themselves lost in a chaste, but passionate kiss.

Seemingly coming to his senses Severus Snape forced himself off of Aria, his face instantly flushing with colour. Averting his gaze, it was clear he was starting to regret what he had just done.

"I apologise, that was... I shouldn't have-"

To his surprise Aria cut him off, resting a cold hand on his newly warmed face. Their eyes met for a single moment, both knowing that this was what the other wanted. Standing slightly on her toes for height, Aria thrust her lips onto his, pulling him closer and tighter than before. Deepening the kiss Severus quickly regained control, letting himself lose himself in the moment. The couple found themselves drifting towards the door, using it as a support, allowing them Severus to be as forceful as he wanted. While Aria's hands roamed the whole of Severus' body, squeezing and grabbing anywhere she possibly could, Severus on the other hand, remained the perfect gentleman, keeping his hands strictly to her waist and face, and eventually settling on either side of her head, leaning against the firm wooden door.

Breaking away for a moment of air, Aria let out a satisfied groan, biting on her bottom lip seductively. Severus could not take his eyes of her, watching her every move hungrily, struggling to catch his breath.

"Wow." She finally exhaled, but instantly Aria pulled him in once more.

As the kiss continued and another second passed, the pair became hungrier for one another, and so the more passionate the kiss became. Getting almost too caught up in the moment, Aria made a move for Severus' belt buckle, hurriedly unclasping it, ready to undo his zipper.

"Stop." Severus panted, grabbing her wrist, before she went any further.

Coming to her senses Aria retracted from the situation, a wave of humiliation washing over her as she watched Severus re-buckle his belt.. Hiding her face in her hands, she moved out from between Snape and the door.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, It's not your fault." Snape tried to reassure. "I just... I wouldn't want to take advantage."

"You wouldn't be taking advantage, I was the one who wanted to-"

"I just think we need to end things here." Snape said firmly, once again cutting the woman off.

Accepting defeat Aria nodded to herself, knowing he was right. She had never felt so embarrassed in her whole life, she knew she would regret allowing herself to drink tonight, it never ended well.

"I should go." She whispered to Snape, refusing to look any higher than the man's shoes.

"Aria." He breathed, his voice full of sadness, knowing she was beginning to regret kissing him in the first place. He wanted to asked her to stay, but he knew it didn't matter what he said now to make up for stopping her, the moment was gone and so too was she about to be.

"Goodnight... Professor Snape." The witch sighed, reverting back to professionalisms and clicking the door shut behind her.

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starlightsearches · 5 years

Text

Office Romance: Ch. 10 Promotion

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

As General Hux walked to his meeting with the Supreme Leader, he focused on clearing his mind, forcefully ridding himself of the unease that had plagued him since that day in the medbay. After his conversation with Ren, he had gone to the bridge and passed control over to Mitaka with the message that he was not to be disturbed. He awoke the next day bleary-eyed, still in his uniform, hungover off a now-empty bottle of whiskey and a deep shame curdling in his stomach. Shit.

Lucky for the general, he was skilled in damage control, having worked with Ren for so long. He had immediately gone to talk to Phasma, who forgave him readily, after he promised that he would stop being, in her words, such a little bitch. They had fallen back into an easy routine, and Phasma had not mentioned it again. Unfortunately, it had not been so easy to get back on good terms with you.

They had not let him back into the medbay. The doctor had been adamant that you needed to rest, but he had a sneaking suspicion that they were worried about him starting another shouting match. Hux was trying to be on his best behavior, and so he had left and not returned, but now a week had passed and he still hadn’t spoken to you. You had been released from care, he knew that much, although you hadn’t been approved for regular duty. He told himself that he had no need to worry, that he had not sought you out yet because he wanted his apology to be perfect. But what if you didn’t forgive him? Or worse, what if you wouldn’t give him the chance to apologize at all?

A squeezing sensation wrapped around the general’s heart, and he forced himself to let go of that fear, and any other thoughts that could be used against him, as he reached the meeting room. No meeting with the Supreme Leader could be called routine, but at least Hux knew why he had been summoned this time. He made his report succinctly, explaining the damage that had been done to Starkiller Base in the crash (minimal), the number of assets lost (one ship), and number of casualties (none).

“And the lieutenant?” Snoke asked, the first words he had spoken since the general had entered the room. Hux forced himself to keep calm, restraining the emotions that were threatening to break down the walls he had put up before the meeting began.

“What about her, sir?” Hux was trying to stay calm, but Snoke’s interest in you was laced with danger. Snoke leaned forward, coming closer to Hux, looming, his massive form filling the room.

“What about her?” He laughed, a singular, sharp sound and Hux squeezed his fists tighter to avoid flinching, “She ran into the wreckage and managed to live, obviously very brave. But I want to know how you find her, General, since you have such astute observational skills.” Snoke laughed again at Hux’s expense, sitting back in the throne.

“The lieutenant is an excellent soldier. Highly skilled in combat, an exceptional strategist, and loyal to the Order,” Hux responded, ignoring the insult. Snoke sneered at him.

“Honestly, General, your lust for her is unmistakable, even though you try to hide it. What would your father say? Pathetic.” Hux stood his ground but refused to speak, keeping his face an impassive mask as Snoke berated him.

“I’d like to meet her,” he continued, and an icicle of fear pierced Hux through the heart.

“Now, sir?” His pulse was rapid, and he knew that Snoke had sensed it. He had hoped to protect you from all of this, but there was no way for him to refuse the Supreme Leader without drawing more attention to his weakness for you.

“Yes, now. Go find her. I’ll be waiting,” Snoke narrowed his eyes, and Hux turned to leave, hoping it would be a long time before he found you.

The burn in your lungs was a good one, familiar, this time. It had been too long since your last run, and the sheer joy of it struck your chest as you pushed yourself to move faster, pumping your arms more vigorously and leaning into your momentum. The finish line was in sight, and you felt the strain in your muscles as you willed yourself over it, only slowing once you had reached your goal. Mitaka was already there—he had always been a better runner than you—and you stopped, checking your time and feeling the pulse point at your neck as the blood rushed through your veins.

“Damn, a whole minute slower than my usual,” you spoke more to yourself than to Mitaka, annoyed that more than just memories of the crash were still holding you back. Kendale staggered over the finish line then, breathing heavily and clutching her side. She had agreed to come with you as moral support for your first run since the accident, but she was not used to the same rigorous training, and it showed. She hobbled over to you and Mitaka, fanning herself with both hands.

“I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at you, her panting punctuating each word.

“This is me taking it easy,” you laughed, nudging her in the side, and Mitaka threw his arm over your shoulder in a sweaty embrace. Your heart swelled; after staying in the medbay with only a few attendants and a med droid for company, being with your friends again was wonderful, the most normal moment you had experienced in a while. But normal didn’t last, and your expression darkened, thoughts of the crash always at the back of your mind.

“Seriously, though,” Mitaka said with concern, “how are you feeling?” You fidgeted under their gaze—his and Kendale’s—hating the sting of tears that materialized so easily lately.

“I’m alright, Doe,” you told him, shrugging out of his grasp. Maybe saying it often enough would make it true, but the heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach confirmed that you were still very much not okay.

“Have you . . . talked to the general yet?” Kendale asked in a whisper, looking around to make sure no one overheard your conversation. You had told both of them what had happened, with Hux and with Ren—or at least a heavily edited version of what had happened—as soon as you had been released back to your quarters. They had wanted to know about the crash, but you couldn’t explain it, didn’t have the power to put it into words, and so you had told them about the conflict in the medbay instead.

“No,” your reply came out like a sigh. You had talked back to one of your superiors, screamed at him, and you knew that even though you were right, it hadn’t been justified. You spent the first few days in the medbay out of your mind, terrified that the general would come in and have you removed from the ship, fired for insubordination.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Mitaka said, as he gathered his things, but you could always tell when he was lying. You wanted him to be right, but couldn’t stand the idea of getting your hopes up.

“You weren’t there to see it, Doe; I was awful to him. And the general is not a forgiving man.” Neither of them argued with you, and the sinking feeling inside of you intensified.

You said goodbye to them as they left to get ready for their shifts, looking forward to a shower and some fresh clothes after your workout. And maybe a nap. You had only been awake for a few hours but you could feel yourself getting sleepy, your body still in the process of healing. Every hint of exhaustion disappeared and replaced itself with panic, however, as soon as you recognized the general waiting outside the door to your quarters.

“Lieutenant,” General Hux addressed you as you walked up to him, “your presence has been requested.” You couldn’t detect any outright anger in his voice, but there was an icy formality in the way he spoke. Shit. So you were going to get fired. He had just waited until you were out of the medbay to do it.

“Of course, General . . . Could I change first?” It seemed like a long shot, but you didn’t want to go into your termination meeting still sweaty from your run. Being let go was shameful enough already.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have time. The Supreme Leader is waiting.” You felt the blood rush from your face, and your knees threatened to buckle. Hux grabbed you by the elbow to steady you, the mask of indifference slipping for only a moment as you righted yourself.

“What?” Your head was reeling, and your heart beat thudded heavily in your chest. “What does he want with me?”

“I’m not sure, Lieutenant,” Hux responded, looking nervous. Fuck. You had never seen him look this anxious before, and the idea of him not knowing something had always been an impossibility. Hux hesitated to speak, looking worried that you might fall over again. “It’s best not to keep him waiting,” he spoke quietly, and once he was sure that you wouldn’t faint, he began walking down the hallway, waiting for you to follow. You walked closely behind, your mind in chaos.

If you were being taken to Snoke, were you still being dismissed? The Supreme Leader didn’t usually involve himself in petty complaints like this, rarely involved himself at all in terms of how the Finalizer was run, as far as you knew. So why would he want to see you? Only the most terrible explanations came to mind: you were being questioned, they suspected you were a spy, you would be tortured for information. You fretted as you walked, so focused on figuring out why you were needed that you didn’t notice that Hux had stopped a few paces behind you.

“What is it?” you asked, turning to him.

“Lieutenant, I-” Hux was not making eye contact with you, and you watched the fingers of his right hand beat rapidly against his thigh. Everything about him right now made you nervous, the additional anxiety only worsening your growing panic. He reached for you then, grabbing you by the hand, and pulling you into a nearby alcove.

The space was compact, sheltered from the hallway, and although there was still a small distance between you and him, the privacy of the area made it feel as if you were closer. You noticed the pale freckles dotting his cheeks, a little at odds with the sharp angles of his face. Hux cleared his throat, and you forced yourself to look him in the eyes, hoping he couldn’t read your thoughts in your expression.

“I know that this isn’t ideal timing, Lieutenant, so I’ll be prompt. I wanted to apologize for my behavior.” He looked at you steadily, but you could still see his hand out of the corner of your eye, drumming away at his leg. An apology? You had not expected it, had not really wanted one. Any anger you had felt towards him was long gone, and a sick guilt came over you in response.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, General. It was a heated moment, and really I am the one who should be sorry-” he cut you off with a gently-raised hand before you could finish.

“Please, Lieutenant, let me do this. My behavior in the medbay was unacceptable, but more importantly, I was wrong to question your judgement,” he paused to take a breath, and his eyes found yours again, his gaze so piercing that it stopped the breath in your lungs. “What you did, running into the ship, saving Ren, was very brave. Probably one the bravest things I’ve ever seen. I’m sorry that I doubted you.” You wanted to respond but didn’t know how, the sea-glass color of his eyes holding your brain hostage, scrambling any coherent thoughts you might have had.

“It’s just-” he continued, speaking haltingly now, the honesty of his confession clearly painful for him, “I am not a well-liked man. Respected, of course, but not admired. I’m sure that many members of the Order, and the crew here, would be glad to see me dead. There are not many people that I can trust, and your loyalty to me—to this organization, I mean—is invaluable . . . and I would hate to think that I had lost it.” He looked away from you then, breaking eye contact and allowing you to breathe. Instinctively, you reached forward, stopping the restless twitch of his hand with your own, the leather of his glove smooth against your fingers.

“Thank you for your apology, General,” your voice was heavy, and you lifted your free hand to your face, finding tears coating your cheeks. You released Hux’s hand and wiped the tears away, embarrassed. “And I’m sorry that I yelled at you,” you said, laughing self-consciously at your own apology, which felt terribly inadequate after everything that he had said. The general laughed too, quietly, a soft smile on his face. The display of happiness, small as it was, changed him, made him look like a different person, and for a moment you forgot about the fear that had been plaguing you.

“We should go,” he said, and you nodded, feeling a little more optimistic now. You followed him down the hallway once again and prepared to face the Supreme Leader.

Ren waited outside of the meeting room, trying to make sense of the information he had just been given. He couldn’t, and he sincerely hoped that Hux hadn’t been able to find you, that you would be held off from the meeting for a little longer while he came up with a solution to this new problem.

Unfortunately, he sensed that your presence was close, and the general’s as well. Ren faltered, hoping you wouldn’t notice the fear on him. Or embarrassment: he hadn’t seen you since that day in the medbay, and even though he had been released first—had thought about you every day since—he had not tried to visit. Things might be different now between you, after all that had happened. Maybe you would stop filling with dread at the sight of him . . . but he didn’t want to know for sure. Not that it mattered, any chance he had would be shot to shit once Snoke took you away.

You appeared around the corner, and Ren could tell that neither of you felt as nervous as he did, which meant that Hux didn’t know the truth about you either. The general seemed a little too happy for Ren’s liking, and the two of you looked amicable. Apparently you had forgiven him already. Ren watched as Hux’s happiness was replaced with annoyance as soon as the two men made eye contact.

“What are you doing here?” Hux spoke with barely-concealed contempt, and for Ren the feeling was mutual.

“The Supreme Leader requested my presence. I’ve been waiting for both of you to arrive.” Hux ignored Ren’s reply, and instead turned to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It will be alright,” he said to you softly, like he knew what he was talking about. Hux walked through the open door first, shooting a smug look at Ren but leaving the two of you alone in the hallway for a moment. You reached out to Ren, no longer afraid—even though he wore the mask—and brushed the back of your hand against his in greeting. The simple touch sent sparks over Ren’s skin, and his mouth went dry.

“Are you okay?” You looked up at him through your lashes, a little shy, and he nodded in response, compelled to lie if it might make you happy. A smile broke on your face, and Ren could not think of a person he wouldn’t ruin to keep it there.

You removed your hand from his and walked through the doorway, determined, and an overwhelming sorrow filled Ren again. He was out of time. You bowed to the Supreme Leader, and Ren came to stand at your left, on the opposite side from the general. Snoke overshadowed the three of you, towering all the way to the ceiling, intimidating even through the holo projector.

“Greetings, Lieutenant,” Snoke addressed you, and Ren could feel your apprehension intensify.

“Supreme Leader, it is an honor,” you inclined your head, avoiding eye contact, properly humble, but your voice was clear and strong as you spoke.

“Do you know why you are here, Lieutenant?” Snoke didn’t wait for an answer, he could feel it in your thoughts that you didn’t, “I wanted to personally commend you for your bravery. You saved the life of my most formidable apprentice in an act of incredible valor, and the First Order owes you its gratitude.” Ren could feel it as Hux mentally rolled his eyes; apparently he didn’t agree with Snoke’s claims about Ren’s importance.

“Thank you, sir,” you responded.

“Bravery is an important quality in any soldier, but loyalty,” Snoke paused, gauging the effect of his words, and Ren sensed Hux stiffen at the memory brought forward: his apology to you in the hallway, only moments ago. “Loyalty,” Snoke continued, “is very rare indeed. I sense your loyalty to the Order. I’d like to reward you for that loyalty, Lieutenant, with a promotion.” Ren furrowed his brow in confusion—this was not what he had expected. “General Hux has refused to pick a second-in-command, and so I will choose one for him. Congratulations, Lieutenant General. I hope you do not disappoint me.”

“I’m honored, sir,” you saluted Snoke, a stunned expression on your face, but your thoughts were exploding with pride, and Hux, too, was over the moon. Ren could hardly believe what he had just heard. This doesn’t make any sense. How would you work as the second-in-command if . . .

“There’s one more thing we need to discuss,” Snoke said, and Ren felt a rolling dread crash into him. It was time for the truth to come out.

“How long have you known that you are force-sensitive?”

#armitage hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #my writing #office romance #armitage hux x you #kylo ren x you

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chocoluckchipz · 5 years

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A Bride for the Prince - 14

A03 ~ < Previous ~ Next >

Lady Volpina’s shriek echoing through the hallways was enough to send any king running as far away as he could.

“We should’ve taken the main hallway, Father,” Adrien groaned behind him. “I’m not in the mood to deal with another of her tantrums.”

“Main hallways are littered with people preparing for your birthday celebration, and it’s less of a hassle avoiding them than avoiding Lady Volpina.”

“Right,” Adrien sighed. “Well, if we walk by fast, hopefully, she won’t notice us.”

And that was exactly what Gabriel had been planning to do, instantly quickening his steps. Yet, as he was passing the slightly open door to the room that the voices were coming from, the words of another lady made him halt in his spot.

“… why don’t you be quiet long enough for Lady Bug to answer. For it seems that she has a far different view on staff than us.”

Gabriel paused at the confident, assertive voice talking about one of the two girls on Adrien’s shortlist of potential brides. Interesting. He walked closer and glanced inside only to see that it was Lady Riposte who was talking, the other girl that caught his son’s attention. She was the perfect candidate for the Queen’s title in Gabriel’s opinion. A competent lady from a distinguished family who, as far as he’d heard, shared a lot of his own values and beliefs.

“Father?” Adrien whispered behind his shoulder. “We should move along before they see us.”

Gabriel raised his finger to shush Adrien and listened. Lady Bug was speaking, and with every word, his heart clenched. He swallowed. It couldn’t be. These words and these beliefs… This exact point of view… He knew it was possible for others of a noble descent to hold those opinions, but it was so rare, he could hardly believe his ears. He quietly stepped into the room to make sure it was Lady Bug who was speaking and not the grief and longing in his heart giving him hallucinations.

“Compassion can be a weakness,” Lady Riposte said, none of the ladies noticing Gabriel’s presence as they continued their discussion. “Show too much and the kingdom will suffer. You must act logically to lead your kingdom the best way possible for all.”

“But how can you possibly know the best way if you do not care to know what those of the kingdom are experiencing?” Lady Bug countered.

“Their needs are ever-changing.”

Gabriel held his breath.

“Having the ability to understand the commoners you rule over is a talent only acquired through associating with those below your rank. Otherwise, how else would you know you are ruling effectively if those you are ruling don’t tell you?”

Gabriel sucked in the air, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. It was incomprehensible, but he couldn’t deny what he heard with his own ears and what he’d seen with his own eyes. No wonder Adrien liked this girl. If not for the fact that she was clearly a different person, Gabriel would’ve thought he’d just gone back in time and witnessed his beloved Emilie serve Lady Bourgeois her ass on a platter, wrapped in a bow.

Thankfully, Lady Riposte took it with more dignity than Andre’s wife ever could. Gabriel hoped he could say the same about Lady Volpina, but the reality was different as the girl snapped and proceeded to verbally attack Lady Bug. Staying as quiet as he could, Gabriel eagerly watched, curious how Lady Bug would handle the brat.

She didn’t disappoint as she managed the situation beautifully and with grace, just the way his Emilie always did. Gabriel glanced back at Adrien. The proud smirk on his son’s face was hard to miss. So was the lovesick warmth in his eyes. It seemed to him his son had made his choice already.

The clock on the wall chimed six, and Lady Bug stood up to leave. She gathered her embroidery, not giving Lady Volpina a chance to retaliate and headed towards them. A confident smile on her lips, a fire burning in her eyes, Lady Bug walked proudly towards the door, halting her steps as soon as she’d noticed their presence.

“Your Majesty! Your Highness.” Lady Bug instantly curtsied before the King and the Prince, her face red.

Gabriel nodded.

“Oh! Your Majesty. And Your Highness,” Lady Volpina cut in, her smile excessively fake as she came from behind Lady Bug. “To what do we owe the honour?” She batted her eyelashes at them, curtsying lower than was appropriate, no doubt trying to show off her overexposed bosom.

Gabriel pressed his lips into a thin line. How did this person even dare to think she was suitable to become a Queen?

“Lady Volpina,” he said, his patience with her wearing thin. “I tend to encourage people of higher ranking to ignore snide remarks when it comes to people’s unsolicited judgement of you. However, in this case, it might behoove you to listen for once.”

With those words, he turned away and marched off down the hallway, leaving not only the trio of girls but his son in shocked silence.

***

Adrien knew his father could be harsh and could humiliate anyone with a single word. Yet, he’d never seen him exercising that ability on anyone who wasn’t his enemy and especially not on anyone belonging to the families that formed his legislature, which Lady Volpina’s family was. However, even his father had his limits, and Adrien was thrilled to have witnessed him not holding back in this particular situation. Honestly, it was rather mesmerizing and highly satisfying to watch Lady Volpina squirm as Gabriel departed the room. Her face red, she clenched her fists, scrambling to compose herself as Adrien glanced her way. Marinette and Lady Riposte could hardly contain their giggles. Adrien would’ve gladly joined them, but, alas, his father wanted his presence at the dinner tonight, so Adrien nodded to the ladies, wishing them a lovely evening, and followed Gabriel’s footsteps.

“That was unexpected,” he said, catching up. “You should’ve seen her face after you left.”

“That was nothing to be proud of,” Gabriel replied. “As a king, I should’ve had more composure, but honestly, I’m rather tired of her presence. Her and her cousin’s Duke Barbot. Thankfully, I won’t have to see them daily anymore soon.”

“I’m eager for that day to come as well.”

They walked in silence for a few moments when Gabriel asked, “Have you made your choice yet? You do realize your birthday is tomorrow? Meaning you must choose a bride before the day ends.”

“I know,” Adrien said, an anxious feeling rising in his gut. He’d gone through most of the laws and regulations with only a few hours work left at most which he’d already planned to complete tonight after dinner. So far, he’d found nothing that could’ve helped him, apart from the lack of a list of eligible ranks for marriage for royalty in general. If it’d come to worst, that might be his only ploy because if the law didn’t specify the ranks and titles royals were allowed to marry, then who was to say he couldn’t marry into any social status, even a commoner one?

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll decide by tomorrow.”

Gabriel scoffed. “It’s plainly obvious you prefer one girl over the other.”

Adrien tensed. He couldn’t put Marinette in the middle of attention yet. Not until he had all the cards in his hands. “You must be mistaken, Father—”

“You know, son,” Gabriel stopped and turned to face him. “I’ve never duelled for your mother, even though sometimes I wish I would have. You, on the other hand, have broken our family’s perfect record without a second thought to defend a woman you are not even betrothed to. Although, after witnessing her just now, I’m certain she didn’t need you to do that. She can perfectly take care of herself. Beautifully and with the grace of a queen, at that. I must admit, I prefer the lineage, family standing, views, and values of Lady Riposte, but who am I to tell you that when I married a woman of a lower-rank nobility who believed the same things as your Lady Bug? So, you do what your heart tells you.”

Adrien held his breath, braving to voice his thoughts only after his father turned to resume his walk. “So, you approve? If I were to choose Lady Bug, and she’ll have me, would you approve of our union?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I already approved of all the ladies in that group, didn’t I?”

Adrien shifted his eyes to the side, nervously chuckling. “Yes. Of course. Never mind, I’m just worried she won’t accept me, so I didn’t—”

“Nonsense,” Gabriel scoffed. “There isn’t a girl in that group who wouldn’t accept your proposal. You’re the Prince. They cannot refuse you.”

Adrien frowned. “That’s not my stance on that. I don’t want a wife to lord over. I want a partner and a friend. An equal. And I want a marriage where we both would be happy and comfortable and loved. I want what you and mother had, and something like that can’t be built without my bride wanting to marry me because of her feelings for me, not because of her love for my title. When I propose, I’ll be asking her as a man, not as a Prince. I’ll be giving her a choice, not an order.”

“And do you think this Lady Bug loves you for who you are?”

Adrien couldn't help a smile, remembering Marinette’s and his encounter at the library. She’d begged the Prince to withhold his attention, admitting to loving another man, a man that, unbeknownst to her, was right in front of her. Not a lot of women would do that, none from the group of the ladies in the running to become his wife. And considering his title and her position, doing so was rather bold of Marinette, which gave him faith her feelings towards him were genuine, something a man of his statue rarely encountered and treasured when he did. “I know she does.”

“Then what are you nervous about?”

His face saddened as he shifted his sight to the side. He couldn’t tell his father yet that he could be the one standing in the way of Marinette’s and his happiness, so Adrien voiced the other reason that haunted his mind. “Her loving me doesn’t necessarily mean she’d want to marry me since, as you know, I come with responsibilities and complications.”

Adrien could feel his father rolling his eyes as he continued to walk in front of him. “Sometimes, you’re ridiculous, Adrien. If she loves you as much as you seemed to believe she does, then she’ll say Yes. If she doesn’t, then you have plenty of others to choose from, but by the end of the day tomorrow you must present a bride to the kingdom’s legislature.”

“Yes, Father,” Adrien mumbled and fell quiet.

They soon reached the dining room, and conversation shifted into a different direction, yet throughout their dinner, Adrien couldn’t stop obsessing over the thought that his father approved of Marinette. He thought she’d been worthy of a Queen’s title based on her actions alone, so maybe they had a better chance to be together than Adrien had thought they did. It made him anxious to go finish his research to find out if those last few books had anything to help him or at least nothing to stop him; anxious to behold his Father’s reaction when he’d reveal he’s fallen in love with and wanted to marry a commoner; anxious to finally take that mask off before Marinette and beg her to marry him. He was anxious for her answer. So anxious it made him nauseous.

“I don’t feel hungry tonight,” Adrien said only fifteen minutes into the meal. “Would you excuse me, Father?”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow, looked at his untouched plate and nodded. “Get some sleep. You must look your best tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Adrien said, standing up. He bowed and departed, heading straight for the library. The faster he’d get through this, the better, and if the food didn’t sit right with him at this moment, why should he waste his time on dinner?

***

His research done, Adrien soaked in his bath, hope warming him more than hot water. He let out a sigh, sinking deeper into the tub. Tomorrow was so close yet so far away. He wondered how it’d go. Would his arguments be enough to convince his father? Would he be allowed—

“Adrien? You here?” Nino knocked on the servant’s entrance door.

“Yeah. Come in. Keep in mind I’m bathing.”

The door creaked open, and Nino slipped in, stopping behind the screen servants used as to not look at Adrien.

“Your coming in from that door means only one thing,” Adrien teased. “How was your date with Alya?”

“Fantastic,” Nino replied. “And I’ve got your answer. About Marinette’s feelings.”

Adrien perked. “And what is it?”

Nino sighed. “Alya said one has to be blind not to see that Marinette’s crushing hard on the Prince and is disgustingly, deeply in love with the guard, which may I mention causes her a lot of turmoil.”

Adrien grinned, his chest filling.

“And don’t you feel happy!” Nino snapped on the other side. “You should be ashamed of yourself. The poor girl is hardly sleeping these days, worrying herself sick, and it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll make sure to properly apologize and compensate her for all the troubles,” Adrien replied, sinking deeper into the water, a lovesick grin shining brightly on his face. “Thank you for confirming, though.”

“Confirming?”

“Yup. I already knew.”

“What? How? Don’t tell me you did something stupid and confessed, Adrien!”

“No, I didn’t. Don’t worry.” He chuckled. “But she did.”

“What?”

“Lady Bug asked the Prince to stop his advances because she was in love with someone else. And when the Prince asked if that someone else was Adrien, she admitted it.”

Nino swore under his breath. “I still think it’s too early to celebrate. What if your father won’t approve? Anything helpful in your research?”

“Only that there are no lists of titles I’m allowed to marry and a few cases of royalty marrying a low-ranking nobility, including my father.”

“But no commoners?”

“No commoners,” Adrien sighed. “Still. I say if the law doesn’t forbid it, the King can’t either.”

“The law may not forbid it, but you know how keen your father is on keeping the traditions, and the kingdom’s traditions say you shall marry nobility.”

“I’ll take my chances. She’s worth fighting for, and this is the only thing I can do here. Unless you can suggest something else?”

“I wish I could,” Nino sighed. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I’ll go to Father first thing in the morning and tell him everything. Once I have his approval, I’ll go to Marinette.”

“And if you won’t get his approval?”

Adrien fell quiet. “Don’t know,” he eventually responded. “I haven’t thought about that much.”

“You know you’ll have to choose someone, regardless of your father’s decision on Marinette?”

Adrien closed his eyes, his chest tightening. “Thank you for being supportive Nino. Love how optimistic you are.”

“Do you think I enjoy it?” Nino scoffed. “Adrien, I warned you from the start to be careful, but did you listen? You’ve always tread your own path, and I supported you while I could, but I think it’s time for both of us to face reality. You are a prince, Adrien. You have a duty and responsibility to your country and people. Your life isn’t yours as much as you might want. And I know this is unfair, and I wish I could change it for you, but I can’t and… I don’t know!” Nino threw his hands up in the air. “This whole situation sucks, and I just feel so helpless to do anything. You’re my best friend, Adrien. My job is to protect you, but what am I supposed to do now? How do you protect someone from breaking their heart?”

Adrien said nothing, clenching his fists. As much as it pained him to admit, Nino was speaking the truth. His life wasn’t so much about him as it was doing what was best for his country.

“I do root for you two,” Nino added quietly. “And I do pray you can be together. I wish I could do anything to help. You know that, right? But I just… I just think you should consider the not-so-happy outcome as well, so if it happens, it’ll be less of a blow.”

Adrien said nothing. He knew Nino was right. There was a huge possibility…

Ugh!

Who was he trying to fool? His father would forbid him to even think about Marinette once the truth would be out. Adrien was just too much of a naive romantic and an optimist—courtesy of his mother’s influence—to see the reality. He sat up in his bath and closed his eyes. “Can you tell my butler I’ll be out of here in a few minutes?”

“Adrien—”

“Please, Nino,” Adrien said, his voice cracking. “I understand everything. I know you care and want to help, but… I’d like to be alone right now.”

“Alright. Can I just suggest, though, that if the worst possible scenario happens, I think Marinette deserves to find out the truth about you before the bride selection happens? Preferably in private and from you personally. It’ll devastate her to see you getting engaged to someone else without knowing the whole story.”

With no more words, Nino walked out. Adrien clenched his fists, jaw tightening as he grit his teeth together. He shouldn’t assume the worst just yet. He shouldn't, no matter how likely it was to happen. Swiftly, he got out of the bath and dressed from the waist down, heading to his bedroom chamber.

The moment he closed the door behind himself, someone grabbed hold of him before he could react. His eyes bulging, Adrien froze in his place, sucking in a breath at the feeling of a woman’s body pressed against his back. What was going on and who the hell was she and how did she get in here?

“My Prince,” a woman behind him purred.

Adrien cringed.

Lila?

Her voice dripping with seduction, she slowly petted his chest. “You’ve finally graced me with your presence. How kind of you. I should reward Your Highness for such consideration. It’d be awfully impolite of me if I didn’t.”

Shaking the shock away, Adrien pulled Lila’s hands off himself, escaping her clutches, but didn't let go of her wrists, trying to keep her a reasonable distance away from himself. “What are you doing here, Lady Volpina? How did you get in? Weren’t there guards at the door?”

“Oh, yes, they were there, my Prince,” Lila said, leaning closer, batting her eyelashes at him. “But once they’ve learned I was here by your order, they let me in and promised not to let anyone else interrupt us.”

“By my... what?” In his confusion, he made the mistake of loosening his hold, giving Lila a chance to slip her hands out of his.

“Of course, you did, silly.” Lila stepped closer, trying to reach forward to run her fingers across his chest, only for Adrien to move away again. “Wasn’t it you who said after our last meeting that you were looking forward to seeing me again soon? I’ve waited for days—” She swooned so artificially, shivers ran up Adrien’s spine. “—and seeing as tomorrow’s the big day, I’m afraid tonight is our last chance for that meeting. So here I am, my Prince. All of me. Just for you. Any way you want.” Smiling seductively, she leaned closer, stopping only mere inches away from Adrien.

He bent backwards. “Lady Volpina. I’m afraid—”

“Ah, don’t be shy, my Prince.” Her eyes half-lidded, Lila cocked her head to the side, puffing out her chest, as she crooned further. “All I want is to talk about how perfect we’ll be together, how amazing of a wife I’ll be to you, how much love and affection I can give you, my Prince. Believe me, you won’t regret your choice. I know how to satisfy a man the way no other woman would ever be able to. You’ll be happy with me. That I can promise you, Your Highness.”

Swaying her hips, she moved closer, Adrien backtracking her every step. She reached forward, running her finger down his chest. “I heard you want children, right? I’ll bear you all the children you’ll desire, Adrien. Can’t you just see them already? How perfect they’d be? Little heirs and heiresses to the throne.”

She smirked. It sent goosebumps down Adrien’s skin as Lila continued. “With our combined beauty, our exceptional physiques—speaking of which,” she murmured with a smirk, reaching for Adrien’s face. “I suppose the rumours of your facial mutilation were a hoax? You’re very good-looking for someone who supposedly endured a horrific accident, my Prince. Why did you need to wear that awful mask all the time?”

Adrien pried her hand off his face. His voice stern, he said, “I have my reasons for what I do. That aside, I’m afraid you misinterpreted my words and my intentions, Lady Volpina. There is a difference between being polite and meaning things. Saying I was looking forward to our next meeting didn’t mean I’d be actually happy to see you again, but it’s polite to say when parting with a lady and is a requirement for someone of my statue. I’m sure you know that.”

Lila dramatically gasped. “Are you implying you didn’t want to see me, my Prince? Oh, but I’m certain you’ll change your mind once I’ll show you my outfit.” Momentarily, she untied tassels of her robe and let it drop to the floor, revealing next to nothing underneath with even what little she wore being see-through.

Adrien snapped his eyes closed and turned away. “Lila, please. Dress up and leave. I don’t want any troubles for any of us.”

“What troubles are we talking about here?” She suddenly was right in front of him, her hands, her fingers running across his bare chest. “I’m sure there are some we can indulge in—”

“No, we can’t.” Adrien backed away with his eyes closed, immediately bumping into a wall table.

Lila followed. “My Prince, why are you so flustered? Is this because of a little me?”

Adrien creaked open his eyes and scanned the area, avoiding looking at Lila as much as possible. He couldn’t go back to his bath chamber. Per his own order, the servants must be already there, taking care of his bathwater. His jumping out from his bedroom half-naked with an even less dressed Lila behind might give them the wrong idea and start rumours he didn’t need right now. Exiting through his front door would yield the same results, seeing as the guards were always there…

Actually, never mind. Adrien pressed his lips together. Exorcising Lila the same way she came in was probably his best option right now. He’d shove her out, give the guards a good talk about letting people into his private quarters without an invitation and clear his name and reputation. He tilted his head to glance at the door, looking for the best way to set his plan in motion.

“Oh, didn’t I mention,” Lila murmured, catching his line of sight. “That not wanting anyone to interrupt us, I’ve locked the door. I found the key in the drawer of that table by the wall. However, unfortunately,” she sighed dramatically. “The key slipped out of my hand and fell out of the window while I stargazed waiting for you, my Prince.”

Adrien growled, closing his eyes shut. That hussy! If he hadn’t known Theo and Lila were related, he’d sure suspect something by now.

“I hope you’ll forgive me,” Lila clung to him, pressing her barely covered chest to his, her arms wrapping around his torso. “I’m just a little clumsy, and the way I feel about you doesn’t help me…”

Trapped against the wall, Adrien got hold of Lila’s shoulders this time and pushed her back. Then, he tuned out the nonsense Lila continued to blubber and concentrated on searching for a safe exit strategy. One thing was clear: he couldn’t afford a scandal right now. Not when he was about to beg his father to let him marry a commoner. And that meant Adrien had to get rid of Lila without servants noticing or at least without anyone having the least of a reason to believe something transpired between them.

Shouting or calling for guards wasn’t an option considering the state of undress and intimate position they both were in at this moment. Not to mention the door was locked and who knew where that key really was. The only other door leading to the bath chamber was out of the question as well… His eyes fell on a balcony door. He couldn’t jump out of the window, no matter how much he wanted to do that right now: his apartment was a little too high in the building for that, and he wanted to stay alive so he could be with Marinette.

But! He could go up to the roof from his balcony! He’d done it before. That was a valid option. He only needed to get the clinging hussy off himself so he could get to that balcony.

“You know what? I think you’re right,” he said, faking his best smile.

“Of course, I am,” Lila purred, leaning closer. “Should we move to a more comfortable place to elaborate?”

“Absolutely,” Adrien nodded, taking a step aside and pulling his hands away from her. “Let me just close the windows, so no one eavesdrops. We wouldn’t want anyone to overhear our secrets, now would we?”

“I have no secrets, my Prince.” She weaved her arms around his torso again. “And it’s awfully hot. If you close the windows, we’ll die of heat.”

Adrien swallowed but mustered a smile, untangling Lila from himself once more. “We could always take the layers off to keep cool.”

Lila’s eyes widened, her lips spread in a victorious smirk. “I like your way of thinking, my Prince. I’m glad we’re on the same page at last.”

“Yes. I’m happy we’re finally getting somewhere as well,” Adrien said, taking a few steps away to the closest window. Lila followed. Adrien pressed his lips together. He had to win some distance or his only exit opportunity might be compromised. “So tell me,” he asked, closing the window. “What place would you want us to take this conversation to?”

Lila looked around ceremonially, walked to his bed, and sat down, leaning on her arms, exposing more of her chest in the process. “I rather like this one. It is spacious and comfortable. Just perfect.”

“Great choice.” Adrien nodded, closing the next window. A few more steps. He was so close. Just keep up the charade a little longer. “And what topic shall we start off?”

“I’m hot already,” Lila said, lightly pushing the strap of her nightgown down. Her sultry look travelled to her shoulder as she let her fingers run over her breasts. “Why don’t we talk about that, my Prince?”

“I’d rather not,” Adrien said as he reached the balcony doors. Quickly, he got outside and closed the doors. Jumping on a banister, Adrien grabbed the nearest ledge and pulled himself up. He continued climbing upwards until he was safely on a roof, just in time for Lila to scramble onto his balcony.

“Au revoir.” Adrien saluted and ran as fast and as far away as he could. In a few minutes, he hid behind one of the towers, pondering on what his next actions should be, ultimately deciding that going back through his front door would be the best option. He could play ignorant and pretend he wasn’t in the room all this time in the first place, playing up the surprise of finding Lila inside. That probably was his best option despite Nino and his servants knowing full well he’d spent the last half an hour in his bathroom chamber just now. He supposed Nino would have his back once explained the situation, and if Nino was on his side, the rest would follow because Nino was a saint and couldn’t lie to save his soul. Everybody knew that.

His mind made up, Adrien stood up to execute his plan, only for his eyes to be drawn to another balcony across from the place he’d hidden at. Marinette’s light was still on. She must be trying to relax after a hard day and that confrontation with Lady Riposte and Lady Volpina. Knowing her, however, she was probably freaking out because of tomorrow. Adrien paused. Maybe, he could swing by while he’s here just to say Hello and see how she was doing? If he’d be quick, he was sure everything would be fine. He hesitated only for a few moments and then, throwing the rational part of his brain aside, Adrien headed away from his quarters into direction his heart was taking him.

He didn’t bother to go down until he’d reach a spot just above Marinette’s room. A few quick tricks and Adrien landed on her balcony. He peeked in, a smile splitting his lips as soon as he caught a glance of Marinette sketching something in her album. His heart swelled. She looked absolutely lovely.

Adrien knocked. Marinette stirred, looking around for the source of the sound. Adrien knocked again, and once she spotted him, waved. She gaped at him for a moment before setting her album down and heading his way.

“What are you doing?” Marinette whispered, her face flushed, as she forced herself to look away. “Where’s your shirt, Adrien?”

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I was in a hurry. Didn’t have time to put it on.”

“In a hurry? What… nevermind. Wait here,” she said and dashed inside, coming out a few moments later with a cloak. “Here. Put this on. Save yourself some decency.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” He smiled, swaddling himself in a garment that smelled so much like her.

“Do you often run around shirtless?”

He shook his head. “Only when I see rats in my room and have to escape as soon as I can.”

Marinette squeaked, eyes widening. “There are rats in the castle?”

“Yup. Huge ones.” Adrien chuckled. “But don’t worry. They don’t visit lovely ladies.”

She frowned, her brows furrowing cutely in confusion. “How can rats know who lives in a room: a lovely lady or an overgrown man-child who can't handle them?”

Adrien laughed. “The rats nowadays are extremely smart and sneaky, my Lady,” he said with a wink. “But enough about them. How are you? I’ve heard you’ve had quite a day, and that you served someone their rear on a platter.”

Marinette grinned. “I did. I still can’t believe it, but it feels incredible. Even the King and the Prince were there, and I dare to say they agreed with me.”

“I know for sure they did. Heard from a proven source that the King said, and I quote ‘She handled it with a grace of a Queen’. How about that?”

Marinette rolled her eyes despite the blush rapidly spreading on her cheeks. “Well, I wouldn’t put ‘grace’ or ‘Queen’ in one sentence with myself, but I do dare to think I’m getting the hang of this whole ‘being noble’ business.”

“And you’re quite good at it already,” Adrien purred, finding her hand and placing a lingering kiss on top of it. “You’re amazing, Marinette.”

Her face crimson, Marinette nervously giggled. “You know, if I’d been back home, I’d celebrate this with some eclairs and hot chocolate.”

Adrien paused. He had to go back to “catch” Lila in his room. But then, it was, probably, already too late. Lila was smarter than to simply sit around, waiting to be caught. So, it really didn’t matter if he went back now or later. Therefore…

“You know, maybe we should celebrate?”

Marinette’s eyes sparkled. “You think so?”

“Yup. Get ready, while I’ll go steal something from the kitchen. I’ll knock at the door as usual.”

Marinette grinned. “Alright. And get a shirt for yourself while you are at it.”

“Of course.” Adrien saluted and went down from her balcony to the ground. Taking Marinette out to celebrate her victory was a much better way to spend his evening than dealing with Lila. So, he’d just ignore the hussy for now and enjoy himself. After all, they might not have a lot of time left together. Life might break them apart tomorrow, so a few extra hours with each other without the burdens of titles and social hierarchy might be exactly what they both needed right now.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #needs a kick #A Bride for the Prince #Gabriel is impressed #Lila on the prowl #Adrien is her prey

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sortinghatchats · 5 years

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Sorting Teen Wolf

In this system, we like to talk about Primary Houses (WHY characters do things) and Secondary Houses (HOW characters do things). Read more on our tumblr, at sortinghatchats.wordpress.com, or take our quiz: https://ejadelomax.itch.io/sortinghatchats

Scott McCall is a Hufflepuff primary: his morality (why he does things) is based in fairness, in people and the idea that every single one deserves consideration, in community and in loyalty. He’s a Puff secondary, too: his best methods (aka his secondary) (aka how he does things) are compassion, team building, and helping others. (Hello Mr. Every Time Someone is in Pain I Take it on Myself).

But Scott thinks the way he is supposed to act is brave, direct, and forceful. So he tries. He models Gryffindor, and he has nightmares about that particular bravery’s violent extremes.

Once upon a time on a little show called Teen Wolf, Stiles Stilinski told Scott McCall he didn’t have to save everyone, and Scott gave him the blankest, most incomprehending look imaginable.

Stiles is a Slytherclaw— the precise, ruthless loyalties of a Slytherin Primary acted out by a Ravenclaw secondary’s planning, strategy, research, and learning. The kid reeks Slytherin. Refusing to tell his father about the supernatural, to keep him safe, even at the expense of other people’s lives— Stiles only backed down then at the terrible might of Scott’s puppy dog eyes, which: understandable.

Let’s kill Jackson, says Stiles, because he doesn’t care. In Allison’s voice that would have the ruthlessness of idealism, not “he’s not one of mine.” I guess a good distinction would be this: Allison would consider killing Scott, if he was murdering people, and Stiles never would. (This is not indicative of a greater connection between brother and brother or lover and lover; this is just pointing out that Allison would do, first, what was right (she would certainly fight her hardest to save Scott, but if there were truly no other options she would sacrifice him).

Stiles’s morality doesn’t work like that. He would keep his father in the dark even if it meant letting people die, because his father’s life is more important to him than theirs. Stiles is a Slytherin with a very short list of people.

I think in the S1 Stiles might have modeled Slytherin Secondary on top of his Ravenclaw secondary. He’s into manuevering and deception a lot more then than he is in the later seasons— especially after the nogitsune.

“I’m 147 pounds of skin and bones; sarcasm is my only defense.” I think that says a lot of it— Stlies has been becoming more and more powerful in his own Ravenclaw skills, enough that he can rely on them instead of hiding behind Slytherin modeling. I’m not sure he feels safer (the world keeps getting more dangerous) but he’s been up against enough now to know that he can survive, and that what keeps him safe tends to be his steady mind and anxious preparations.

Lydia is a Ravenclaw/Ravenclaw who models Slytherin Secondary (eight million times better than Stiles does) and performs Puff (about as badly as Stiles models Slytherin—you can tell she’s putting it on for politeness, when she smiles and doesn’t mean it).

In this way, her and Stiles’s journeys parallel each other, which makes their friendship one of my favorites. They’re both slowly coming to accept and value their Ravenclaw— to recognize that this is a kind of strength and perhaps even beauty; and that it is theirs.

Until Lydia starts breaking, she almost looks like a Slytherpuff—or, well, a Slytherin/Slytherin with a Puff performance. Her Puff is really unconvincing. But her outward facade of Slytherin Primary is magnificent. Even in the first season, though, her Claw peeks its head out now and then.

(Also: it looks like Lydia’s mom is a Ravenpuff? Which makes me wonder where Lydia learned that she should be a Slytherin. Because she’s so ashamed of her Ravenclaw, early on, both the primary’s idealism and the secondary’s intelligence and curiosity. She has this idea that beauty and power are the things required of her and that she must fulfill them. Only her world shattering around her made her vulnerable enough to reassess and embrace her Ravenclaw. It makes me want to meet her father, or other formative influences in her life, and perhaps see what her mother acted like in that marriage).

Alison Argent takes up her family’s moral legacy and rewrites it in her own words. She does what she thinks is right in defiance of foes, friends, and family. When she decides what right is, when she has watched and learned the world around her and slowly, deliberately built her own code out of the truths she’s found there—then Allison goes after her goals with a single minded intensity and a direct, sometimes violent efficiency. This, my friends, is a Ravenclaw/Gryffindor and she is beautiful.

(ALLISON I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING BACKPACKING FRANCE WHILE YOU RECONNECT WITH YOUR COUSINS AND FIGHT FOR TOLERANCE IN THE HUNTER COMMUNITY. I LOVE HOW YOU CALL LYDIA ONCE A WEEK ON SKYPE.)

Malia and Stiles boned over their shared Slytherin primary, which delights me. Malia looks like a Slytherdor, but I wonder if she might be a Slytherin/Slytherin who’s living in her “neutral state” because she doesn’t give a toot. I think if Malia needed to, she’d be happy to lie, coerce, adapt, transform to get what she wanted. She just so far doesn’t think highly enough of anyone to manuever in any way but straightforwardly.

Kira is a Gryffinpuff, I think. She’s certain and forward and brave, and she goes after her goals with kindness and determination.

Derek is a Hufflepuff with a Claw secondary. “We’re brothers now,” he tells this young kid just because the kid got chewed on by his uncle. He is desperate for community (see: the terrible choices of the Worst Alpha Ever aka S2). Even when he’s creepy (often), even when he’s a failwolf (…more often), he’s doing things to help people simply because they are people.

But he was going to kill Lydia, right? When we thought she was the kanima. Yes, he was— to save other people. Scott, wasn’t, but they’re both still Puffs, because Derek is what happens when a kid like Scott loses hope—or gets a truer idea of the real world, depending on who you ask.

Scott doesn’t believe in victories that come with comprimises attached. He doesn’t believe in heroism with trade-offs and consequences. Scott was going to save Lydia. But Derek? One girl’s life to stop a monster? He was going to save everyone else.

(Which— he was wrong, it was Jackson, you failwolf. But I’m more interested in both of their why’s than I am in the realities of the fictional situation).

Derek, like Scott, also models Gryffindor and probably… shouldn’t. He’s worse at it than Scott is. Which, like, wow. Calm down kiddos, please. Neither of you wants to be alpha dog, not really. Embrace your inner pack mom. Take pain from people and take Kira leather jacket shopping and brush the hair out of Cora’s face and hold Lydia’s hand when she’s making hard decisions about what kind of person she wants to grow up to be. Here are your strengths, boys. Here is your heroism.

THE PARENTS

Melissa McCall, Mama McCall, the beacon of Beacon Hills, is a Slytherdor. Her son’s in danger? She will forcibly waken one of her own patients when she herself has warned against it. She will sit with Ms. Yukimura and wonder why their children have to fight this war. (Ms. Yukimura, who’s some sort of idealist House, will respond that otherwise they would be running and hiding, but Melissa will remain unconvinced because this is her boy).

Melissa’s a Gryff secondary because she is direct, no-nonsense, and doesn’t care if she steps on people’s toes on the way to her goals. She’s amenable up until someone gets between her and something she wants, or something she wants to protect.Melissa models Hufflepuff occasionally, sometimes at her job, but most often around her ex, which makes me wonder if Melissa used to be a Slytherpuff, or a Huffledor, but went “no, screw this!” at the same time she threw her husband out of the house.

Papa Argent, I think, House shares with Derek Hale: Hufflepuff (his morality is informed strongly by the people he loves: his father and sister, and then his daughter; the best argument to get to him in S1 is “Scott hasn’t hurt anyone yet”) with a Ravenclaw primary (plans, preparation, and knowledge), and a Gryffindor modeling because it’s what his family expects of him.

Scott doesn’t have that many Hufflepuff role-models, does he? His mom, who is extraordinary and wonderful, is a Slytherdor. You can get farther from Puff/Puff but it’s hard. He doesn’t particularly bond with Papa Argent.

The best role model is probably Sheriff, who might be a Puff primary, but who Gryffindor secondaries so competently. Gryffindor secondaries just aren’t where Scott’s skills lie. Or maybe he could find a role model in Deaton, who models Puff but I think Deaton’s really just a Ravenclaw/Ravenclaw. The Puff all goes away when things get serious.

No wonder the kid isn’t comfortable with his Puff. All of his heroes win their wars in other ways.

THE VILLAINS

Peter is a burned Hufflepuff. Literally. People who aren’t his family have ceased being people to him. He presents effectively as a rather nasty Slytherin, but I do think it’s ultimately coming from a Hufflepuff place. But maybe I’m wrong and he really is as simply and shallowly selfish as he seems. … yeah that’s quite possible.

Peter’s got a slimy Slytherin secondary, and he models Ravenclaw, which is the Chessmaster set up, the mold for the manipulative schemer who (would like to think he) is two steps ahead of everyone.

(This is opposed to just a Slytherin, where you get adaptable and interpersonally effective tactics, but no long term “mwuahaha” strategy, and just Ravenclaw (think Sokka. think later seasons Stiles) where you just have the strategist).

Gerard, the manipulative douchebag, is a Slytherin/Slytherin who performs Gryffindor to cajole people like Kate and Allison into following him.

Kate is a Gryffindor/Slytherin who models and performs Gryffindor. I’m so sorry Gryffindors.

#teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sortinghatchats

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animequeens · 6 years

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13: Stupid Lovey Dovey Shit

Hey ok, I keep on saying I’ll be back after my exams but god I can’t bring myself to study. As procrastination I wrote this oneshot inspired by @otakinu and @doromame fan-art of sorina <3. Again if you want you can read this at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12032457/1/Looking-Through-Our-Hourglass

Soma was never the brightest guy. Sure, he isn’t the idiot that Erina always claimed, but he was a dense guy when it came to anything other than cooking.

Bluntly put, he was never that interested in romance; well at least until he met her.

When he was in middle school, he was too busy competing with his father to notice any girls who were remotely interested in him.

Frankly speaking, even on the day of his transfer exam, even after meeting a certain girl who called his food disgusting, he did not spontaneously become interested in any of the lovey dovey shit – but something did change.

On that day, his sights were no longer focused after his father’s footsteps. His gaze was met with something far more tempting, a pair of challenging violet eyes. It was then, he knew, he would make that girl submit to his cooking; no matter how long it’d take.

Two years later, although he has yet achieved his goal, he did accidentallyfall into the trap he referred to as the ‘lovey dovey shit’ during his younger years.

It did take him a day or two; oh who was he kidding, a month or so to come to terms that his girlfriend was in fact Nakiri Erina – yes, the exact girl who outright called his food disgusting.

The bore of romance that he once completely ignored seemed to consume his thoughts suddenly. His passions were no longer limited to just cooking; but rather revolved around a certain girl with beautiful violet eyes and a smile which always seemed to brighten his day.

Being receptive to this lovey dovey shit had its challenges though.

As much as he hated to admit it, sometimes he preferred if Erina just took her limo out when they went on dates. It wasn’t that he enjoyed the luxurious and overly extravagant lifestyle his girlfriend was accustomed to, but he hated the looks people; precisely young teenage students threw at her when they strolled down the street or when they took a bus together.

But these days, Erina always seemed to insist on travelling in unconventional ways, at least to her, they were ways she never imagined. It all started because of a stupid scooter.

It was a cheerful day when called Erina telling her to come out of her house. They had been dating for a few weeks now and Soma felt like she needed a break from her paperwork no matter how often she denied her fatigue.

When Erina rushed outside, she was greeted with a large grin, and a brand new misty blue scooter.

“What do you think of Yukihira Junior?” asked Soma grinning ear to ear, obviously proud of his new scooter.

“It’s…” Erina hesitated, “quite pretty?”

“Oh, come on,” Soma laughed as he tossed her the white helmet he had brought along, “Junior will be sad to hear such a half-hearted compliment.”

Erina rolled her eyes at his comment but stood still, seemingly unwillingly to put the helmet on.

“What’s wrong,” he asked, looking at her confused before adding, “Oh don’t tell me Miss Erina is too scared to hop on a scooter.”

“Oh, you wish in a million years,” replied a flustered Erina who quickly placed the helmet on her head and hopped on behind him. Her arms naturally wrapped around his waist and she lent in close, her cheeks just touching the back of his uniform.

“Well hold on tight,” Soma laughed, amused by her prideful and stubborn personality. As he took off, he could feel her hands wrap slightly tighter around him, her face pressing harder against his back.

“Open your eyes,” he chuckled, “It’s Sakura season, you don’t wanna miss this.”

“My eyes aren’t closed thank you very much,” replied Erina, slowly opening one of her eyes. What greeted her were hues of pink on either side of the long winding dust road.

Pink petals of all shades fell as they drove past. Before long, both of her eyes were open and she seemed a lot more comfortable with their mode of transport.

“Say Yukihira,” Erina started, “It’d be alright if I took off my helmet right?”

“Well, this is a private road, leading up to your mansion,” chuckled Soma amused, yet relieved that she was finding this entertaining, “I highly doubt there will be any police.”

With his confirmation, Erina took off her helmet eagerly. The breeze brought upon by the movement of their scooter ruffled her hair. Her cheeks were rose-flushed from the sun and its shade was soon deepened by her adrenaline as she stood up bravely, holding only onto Soma’s shoulders.

“Getting a little wild are we?” asked an amused Soma, making sure to slow down the vehicle given her current position.

“Shut up Soma,” hummed Erina, “don’t ruin such a romantic moment with your sarcastic comments will you?”

It didn’t take long before they reached the end of the road. Naturally, Erina hopped off the scooter, a smile still on her face, obviously satisfied with his little spontaneity.

Well at least until she noticed Soma coughing into his hands unnaturally, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“What is it?” she had asked, completely unaware of the fact that her blonde hair was now tangled with pieces of leaves and sakura petals.

His hands reached towards her hair and picked out a single petal before he added, “nice hair by the way.”

“Don’t tease me,” Erina had replied, her already flushed cheeks turned an even darker shade of pink if that was even humanly possible. She puffed out her cheeks, like a fully stuffed squirrel and looked away embarrassed.

Soma chuckled before he ruffled her hair ever so slightly, “I like you like this though, you look kawaii”

And so ever since that day, though Erina never admits it, she has been hooked on the adrenaline and excitement unconventional travelling brought her. From buses to trams, from bicycles to high speed rails, Erina was like a young child, suddenly exposed to a new world of exciting gadgets.

It didn’t bother him at first, he enjoyed holding her hand as they strolled along the curb walking towards the bus stop. That was until one day he noticed the glances that always seemed to be thrown her way. Although he had submitted to being trapped in the ‘lovey dovey shit’ he referred to as romance, he cannot allow himself to admit to the demons of jealousy.

Well, until when he arrived.

Francis Ducassee, not exactly a transfer student, yet considered a polished diamond no less even at the Totsuki school. The heir to most successful Michelin restaurant chain in the world, son of Alain Ducasse and most importantly, the student body president of Ecole de cuisine Alain Ducasse. His arrival caused ripples of excitement at Totsuki, not only was he a ‘noble’ in the culinary world; he was hot.

As a VIP of course, Totsuki appointed the very best to be his escort during this stay at Totsuki, none other than the granddaughter of the headmaster, the owner of the god’s tongue.

“I have to go,” whispered Erina, her chest still heaving from the passionate kiss they had just shared, “first day, important schedule.”

“You can’t leave your boyfriend here alone to fend for himself,” replied Soma tightening his grip on her waist, his gold eyes pleading, “You know how scary sensei can get.”

“Please, I’m sure you can manage without me,” chuckled Erina before she wiggled her way out of his embrace. She walked hurriedly towards the door before stopping abruptly. Running back, she placed a soft peck on his cheek adding, “I’ll see you tonight.”

After school Soma received a quick text from Erina saying: Hey sorry! I can’t make it tonight, I know we said we’ll go watch the new movie but grandfather wants me to accompany Francis to this event. I’ll make it up to you another night ;)

Soma chuckled at her message undisturbed. He understood her pressure and the burden the name Nakiri brought upon her shoulders and he wasn’t some douche bag who would get upset over a cancelled; or rather re-scheduled date.

“Did you hear,” one girl started, “apparently, Francis is here because his father wants him to take Erina’s hand in marriage.”

Soma’s ears perked at the mention of Erina.

“I heard the same thing too,” the other girl nodded, “I saw them walking out of school together, they look so compatible…I guess it’s just natural for a princess to end up with such a handsome prince.”

“He did look so hot,” giggled the other girl as they walked away.

Soma stood there silently, trying to digest the information he had just received. Sure, he knew they were just rumours – stupid ones no doubt, but the name Francis was starting to rub off wrongly on him.

The next day, Erina showed up to school, Francis walking beside her. The pair looked like a couple from a fairy tale, eliciting whispers from everyone around them.

When Soma finally bumped into Erina during their lunch break, he noticed Francis being there too.

He seemed like a shadow glued to her every move.

He irked Soma further when his eyes danced dangerously over Erina’s body, gazing particularly long at her creamy thighs under her now far-too-short-skirt.

“Yo Nakiri,” he had said gazing at his girlfriend, “I was just about to ask you to have lunch together.”

“Oh, sorry Soma,” Erina looked down apologetically, “Francis actually wanted me to show him around the green energy plant around the school.”

“Ah,” laughed Soma before he scratched his head lightly, “I’ll just catch you later then.”

“yeah!” she replied, “we’ll keep in contact.”

As Erina turned to walk towards the east corridor, Soma’s eyes were met with a pair of challenging green eyes, one gloating its victory.

If he wasn’t an important guest to both Totsuki and Erina, Soma would have probably punched him in the face by now; or at least had a shokugeki with him.

It has been a month since Francis’ arrival and during this time, the time Erina and Soma had spent together were far and few. It was hard to organise a time to see each other when Francis seemed to follow her every move, coming up with absurd and constantrequests which required her company.

Soma’s patience and limits were finally exhuasted when he overheard another conversation, a month into Francis’ arrival.

“You know I was partners with Francis today in my French class.”

“No way! Damn why are you always so lucky?”

“You know what he told me when I asked him if he was dating Erina Nakiri!”

“What? Tell me Maria.”

“He said…”

“God enough with the suspense.”

“He said they were dating and he already slept with her. He told me he is basically her fiancé now.”

What a load of bullshit - were the only words that rang in Soma’s mind.

It was one thing to challenge him. He couldn’t care less if Francis believed he could win Erina over by sticking to her like a piece of bubble gum. He didn’t even care if the whole school thought the pair were dating. But it was one thing to attack him, but it was another and completely different thing if he were to spread rumours about Erina. He had to beat up this guy’s entitled high horse ass.

It didn’t take long for him to make it to the French class he knew Erina would be attending.

“Francis Douchebag, or whatever your name is,” he said as he busted into the classroom, his eyes looked disgusted as they met his green ones, “I challenge you to a shokugeki and I will put my expulsion on the line that if I won, you will never set foot in Totsuki for the next two years.”

“Interesting proposal,” chuckled Francis, “Dear Erina has told me all about the traditions of this school and the unique art of culinary battles. I will accept your proposal on these conditions and on the basis, that the shokugeki will be French cuisine based”

Furious would be an understatement when Erina heard his proposal.

But she would be lying if she said she didn’t sigh in relieve when Soma beat Francis to his own speciality in a full swept 3:0 fashion.

Once the battle was settled, Francis was almost immediately ‘escorted’ out of Totsuki, his voice indignant as he complained about the bias of the judges.

Erina one the other hand stormed out of the convention centre almost immediately after the conclusion of their battle; her absence quickly picked up by the red-head.

When he finally caught up to her, they were already half way across the campus standing outside rows of empty classroom.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

“I was thinking of you,” said Soma unapologetically, “I can’t tolerate him spreading rumours about you.”

‘That doesn’t mean you put yourself on the line,” yelled Erina, “You know Totsuki is basically everything to me, what would happen to you, what would happen to us if you were expelled!”

“I wasn’t going to be,” he replied softly as he took a step closer, “I was thinking about you when I cooked and I feel invincible when I do.”

“Just because you feel that way doesn’t mean it’s the reality Soma,” she replied sternly, her eyes averted from his, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“You know what else I was thinking about?” Soma added as he stroked her cheeks softly.

“It sure is a surprise that more than one thing can go on in your head at a time,” grumbled Erina.

“I was thinking…” He trailed off his eyes looking dangerously at her. Erina flushed at their close proximity when he suddenly sandwiched her between the cold walls of this empty hallway and his warm body.

“What,” she questioned, trying to focus her thoughts on his words rather than her embarrassment. God, she hated the way she blushed so easily.

“I was thinking your skirt is too short missy,” Soma concluded, “I hated the way Francis looked at it and I dislike it when other guys look at you in that way. This sight is mine and mine only. So, my next proposal at the next elite ten meeting will be proposing a compulsory length for female uniform.” He looked at her hungrily before his lips crashed onto hers. Sucking on her bottom lip as he pulled away he added, “and your objection has been denied.”

#shokugeki no soma #sns fanfic #sis #food wars #shokugeki no souma #sorina #soueri #erina x soma #soma x erina #shokugeki no soma fanfic #fanfic #Looking through our hour glass chapter 13

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terriblelifechoices · 6 years

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It's the quality, not the quantity, of fic that makes someone a good author and you've got it in spades! And you seem to be an absolutely lovely person on top of that! :) If you want to write a ficlet, I will not say no! We haven't seen a lot of Scary Bastard! Credence, or Extremely Competent and Cutthroat and Brutal Politician!Credence, which are my favorite versions of him. If you'd like to write a fic about his day job of kicking ass and taking names (verbally of course) I'd love to read it!

Aw, thank you!

I liked the options rather a lot. Extremely Competent and Cutthroat and Brutal Politician!Credence was easier to write, though, so that’s what I went with.

Fear takes a long time to unlearn. Ten years after the repeal of Rappaport’s Law, Credence is still having the same argument with politicians about why it was necessary in the first place.

The Woolworth Building, February 1943

It was, perhaps, a little mean to inflict Dag on unsuspecting politicians. At eight months old, Dagonet’s cuteness was surpassed only by his ability to charm anyone he came into contact with.

Credence refused to feel bad about that. He would take any advantage he could get.

Also, Dag had just hit the clingy phase, and would dramatically scream and cry if left in the care of anyone who wasn’t Credence, Percival or Jacob. Credence really hoped Dag grew out of that soon.

Senator Bromwell actually did a double take when he saw Dagonet strapped to Credence’s chest.

Credence met his gaze calmly. He wasn’t going to start a fight with the senator – that was more Tina’s thing than his – but he’d damn well finish one, if that was what the senator wanted.

The senator did.

“Mr. Graves, forgive me. You seem to have forgotten that the daycare is downstairs,” Bromwell said, all solicitous concern.

“Have I,” Credence said, disinclined to continue the conversation.

Bromwell didn’t take the hint. “You can’t possibly be serious,” he said. “Bringing a baby to a committee meeting is ridiculous.”

“Senator Bromwell, if you find Dagonet’s presence objectionable, you are more than welcome to recuse yourself,” Credence told him. “I, however, will be attending the meeting.”

“With a baby strapped to your chest.”

“Would you prefer it if he were strapped to yours? I guarantee neither of you would much care for the experience; Dag’s feeling a bit wary of strangers at the moment.”

“You can’t honestly expect us to take you seriously while you’re parading a baby around!” Bromwell said.

“Seraphina Picquery signed laws into effect with my oldest two children sitting on her lap,” Credence said, using his most exquisitely reasonable tone of voice. He’d found that it tended to have a maddening effect on some people, particularly if they were already being unreasonable. “The very same laws we’re here to discuss, as it so happens. There’s precedent for it, if that’s your concern.”

“Credence,” Congressman Rosewater said repressively. “Stop baiting Bromwell. And you,” he said to Bromwell. “Stop taking the bait.”

Credence inclined his head. “Apologies, Victor.”

Bromwell grunted something and sat down again.

Credence followed suit, settling carefully into his chair to avoid jostling Dag.

Congressional meetings, Seraphina had told him once, were really just so much street theater. Except rather than amuse the audience, the performers primarily tried to impress themselves.

She was right about that. They were like street theater. Boring street theater, though. No one in their right mind would ever pay to see this performance.

Credence watched the performers. He was less interested in the performance – he already knew what most of them were going to say – but it was always good to get a read on whether or not they really believed all of the ridiculous garbage they were spouting, or if they were simply misinformed.

Bromwell believed. He talked about No-Maj’s like Ma used to preach about witches – as if the threat of them were very real, and might erupt into all-out war at any moment.

Rosewater didn’t. Victor Rosewater was a moderate, through and through. He tended to vote on the conservative side of things, but when it came right down to it, all he really wanted was what was best for their people.

Congresswoman McGilliguddy believed, too, but she was on his side. Rumor had it she had presidential aspirations, just like her many times great grandmother. Credence believed them. McGilliguddy had the drive for it.

“For magic’s sake, man,” she said, exasperated. “The kneazle is well and truly out of the bag and there’s no getting it back in. Trying to slap Rappaport’s Law back on like a bandage isn’t going to work.”

“I didn’t take you for a No-Maj lover,” Bromwell said. The tone of his voice made it clear that being a No-Maj lover was on par with being a blood traitor.

Enough was enough.

“And just what,” Credence said, taking care to stay quiet so he wouldn’t yell, “is wrong with being a No-Maj lover?”

“Ah,” said Bromwell, some miniscule hint of self-preservation kicking in at last. “Nothing, of course.”

“And No-Maj’s?” Credence persisted. “You don’t seem to think very highly of them, either.”

“There’s nothing wrong with No-Maj’s,” Bromwell added hastily. “Some of my best friends are No-Maj’s.”

“I doubt that,” said Credence. “But one of mine is.” He smiled.

Bromwell visibly recoiled at the mention of Jacob. Or, more likely, at the reminder of what had happened to the last wizard who thought Jacob Kowalski had no place in the wizarding world. Credence’s wrath had been nothing compared to Queenie’s.

“If you have nothing worthwhile to say, Senator, then please be quiet and cede the floor to those of us who do,” Credence said, still quiet. “I, for one, am getting tired of your bigoted rhetoric.”

Bromwell’s jowly face went very red. Credence cast a silent muffling charm on Dag. The yelling portion of the street theater was about to start soon.

“I am trying to protect our people!” Bromwell snapped.

“From what?” Credence demanded. “From the No-Maj’s? They’re people. People just like you and me, who live and love and just want to go about their daily lives. Most of them have no idea we exist, and in accordance with the International Statute of Secrecy, most of them will continue to have no idea we exist. No one is suggesting we start slinging spells around to amuse the No-Maj’s.”

He was so very tired of having this argument. Rappaport’s Law had been repealed a decade ago, and people still kept trying to bring it back. And for what, he wondered. So they could live in government-sanctioned fear and tell themselves their hate was justified?

“We can’t go back, Senator. The only thing we can do is go forward. If you truly want to protect our people then make a better world for them to live in.”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M TRYING TO DO?” Bromwell bellowed back. “Don’t you dare take that sanctimonious tone with me, you little No-Maj loving prick. You’re the one our people need to be protected from! You and your politics,” he sneered. “You’re no better than Grindelwald. Magic knows you sound like him, carrying on about fear and using it to justify your agenda.”

Credence froze. If he moved wrong – if he breathed wrong – he was going to lose his temper, and he didn’t want to do that. Not in front of Dag. Dagonet was too young to remember anything, but Credence still wanted to set a good example for his son.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, even softer than before. He wasn’t doing it on purpose this time. Credence got quiet when he was angry – quiet and cold.

“I think,” Rosewater said carefully, well acquainted with Credence’s temper, “that we’re might need to take a brief recess.”

“I’m sorry, Victor,” Credence interrupted. “But I believe the senator has something to say. I’d like him to say it to my face.”

Bromwell said nothing. Bullies were like that. It was easy for them to be brave when they were standing in a crowd.

“No? Very well. Then I have some things I’d like to say in return.” Credence smiled. It was a smaller, more subtle version of Percival’s wampus cat hunting smile, but the predatory intent remained the same. “What you are trying to do, Senator, is justify inflicting the same culture of fear you grew up in on the children who will be our future. On my children.” He cupped the back of Dag’s head, protective.

“Grindelwald wanted our people to rule over the No-Maj’s. If you’re going to accuse me of using his rhetoric, you ought to read a few of the transcripts of his speeches, first. Anything less just reveals your ignorance and undermines the point you’re trying to make.”

“You’re still no better,” growled Bromwell. “You think your power and your name give you the right to dictate law to us. Shall we bow to the Dark Lord Graves, instead?”

“Senator Bromwell, please stop presuming to know my mind better than I do,” Credence said. “It’s tiresome and insulting.” He went on before the Senator could find something to say to that. “For the record, I don’t think my power or my name give me the right to dictate anything, but I am willing to use both to fight for what I believe in. I have spent the past decade working on the No-Maj reforms not – as you so charmingly put it – because I am a No-Maj lover, but because our previous legislature hurt our people. All of them, not just the No-Maj born ones.”

Credence met Senator Bromwell’s gaze and held it. “Wizarding America normalized fear of the No-Maj. And for what? Because they don’t have magic? Because they’re different? You and I both know what the word for that is. Any system that justifies bigotry or hate is corrupt and cannot stand. As politicians, we cannot let them stand. We have to do better.

“If you don’t agree with what my version of better is, that’s fine. That’s why we have committee meetings. But if you have nothing but fear and watered down hate to contribute to the conversation, then recuse yourself and let someone who is willing to do the work take your place.”

Rosewater eyed him warily. When Credence remained silent for an uncomfortably long moment, he cleared his throat and said, “I suggest we take that recess now.”

Credence smiled. “Yes,” he murmured. “Let’s do that.”

#my fic #comment fic #Possible 'verse #credence graves #credence barebone #Dagonet Graves #redwitchrising

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dylawa · 4 years

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Having Lived and Loved: The Playlist (Part 3)

Here is Part 3 to my HLAL Playlist description series! The purpose of this post is to put all the important songs in one place, as well as add descriptions for where they fit in, and my reasoning as such. I’ll put it all under a Read More of course.

The series is split up since I can only share five videos per post, so expect more to come, and know you’re entering in media-res if you haven’t read the first post! I will also mention, there will be more songs in the playlist than there are directly mentioned in this series of posts. That is because the playlist will include all songs related to the chapters’ titles, not just the ones that have significance character/story-line wise. Links to all parts and the full playlist are at the bottom of the post!

For this part, we’ll be focusing on character-specific pieces (for members of Comet’s agency, in particular), not just story songs! For obvious reasons, All Might will not be included, but if you really want me to assign a song to him, let me know! In the meantime, strap in!

Comet: “Four” -- Sleeping At Last

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Now, as a disclaimer: there are dozens of songs I wish I could assign Comet all in this one post, and maybe I’ll make a separate playlist for that! But for now, we have this one selected piece, and this is for my personal interpretation of Comet-- feel free to assign her whatever song you think fits best for your own version (Psst, in fact, I encourage you to send them to me)!

Bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust For a moment we get to be glorious Ice sculptures adorned in light Sand castles built tall in between the tides Maybe I'm hiding behind metaphor Maybe my heart needs to break to be sure One day I'll wear it all on my sleeve The insignificant with the sacred unique

Now, Ryan O’Neal’s “Atlas: Year Two” project encompasses all personality types on the Enneagram type test (which is more like an astrology type thing than anything actually based in science, similar to the Myers-Briggs test), and this is what a four is described as:

“Fours are self-aware, sensitive, and reserved. They are emotionally honest, creative, and personal, but can also be moody and self-conscious. Withholding themselves from others due to feeling vulnerable and defective, they can also feel disdainful and exempt from ordinary ways of living. They typically have problems with melancholy, self-indulgence, and self-pity.

At their Best: inspired and highly creative, they are able to renew themselves and transform their experiences.

Basic Fear: That they have no identity or personal significance

Basic Desire: To find themselves and their significance (to create an identity).”

Seems Comet-esque to me!

Next, I’ll pick a song for our resident mechanic and armor-tech, Ayane!

Ayane: “Akkala Ancient Laboratory” -- Breath of the Wild

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Now, I would like everyone to know, I DID NOT base Ayane’s design off of Purah from Breath of the Wild! That being said, they share... a lot of undeniable similarities. Fan art of all HLAL characters will becoming eventually, but for reference, Ayane is also short (think Gran-Torino height), has white hair, side shaved and tied into a ponytail, and her goggles most definitely give her the same big-eyed look as Purah. Unlike Purah, however, she actually looks her age, crows feet and all. The woman is not young, my friends.

I would be remiss to gloss over the fact that Ayane and Purah also share a similar bubbly and scientific personality, and are constantly working on a new project of some kind (either to the joy or dismay of their acquaintances). It’s for this reason that, instead of seeking out some other technologically-sounding song, I decided one of the laboratory themes from BotW would fit best.

I’m kinda flipping Purah the bird by using the Akkala lab theme instead of Hateno, but it just fits better overall.

Modi-Mutation (Mod): “Natural” -- Imagine Dragons

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Not so fun fact about Mod; I... don’t have a name for him yet. So I’m going to fix that right now! Let’s see... Rin Masashi. Rin meaning cold and disciplined, and Masashi meaning, basically (and I mean basically), “leader’s will”. Cool! Moving on.

Mod doesn’t necessarily want to be the Number One Hero, but he’s still clearly passionate about his work, and desires to work alongside only the best of the best. Anything less would slow him down, and prevent him from doing his job properly, in his eyes. Therefore, it’s absolutely necessary to surround himself with competent heroes. Being hired on by Shimuzu, aka The Boss, was equally a dream come true and a skeptical circumstance, given her questionable past, but her power was something Mod could not ignore.

All that being said, he doesn’t have an issue with inexperienced or low power heroes being in the industry itself... he just doesn’t want anything to do with them for himself. Which is almost just as bad as the alternative.

Ichiro: “Intriguing Possibilities” -- The Social Network

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First, I’m going to get just a little vulgar here: fuck Mark Zuckerberg. Okay, now that that’s out of the way, this soundtrack slaps, and has the overall aura of “progress at a price,” as well as sounding both technological and other-worldly. The morality and ethical nature of Ichiro’s use of his Quirk is... foggy, at best, depending on your interpretation of what the concept of a human soul-- or, really, any soul-- encompasses. I don’t feel like I did the concept enough justice in WWICB, but I did what I could with what I had, and I hope I explained my thoughts on it well enough to make sense and to make a good, if not valid, point.

Funnily enough, if you think about it, Ichiro’s Quirk is closer to something of a poltergeist than it is to anything technological in nature, but as a result of his upbringing, he was inspired to use his Quirk towards electronics instead of, say, plants, or furniture. The possibility is absolutely there, the only issue is, if the item in question doesn’t have its own form of locomotion or communication... well, that would be a pretty crappy fate, and even a mindless, heartless soul doesn’t deserve that kind of life.

The boy may now be a man of science, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand morality. It may just take him a nudge here or there to remember his own humanity.

And, finally, we move on to the leader of the agency’s operations.

The Boss: “Thirty Three” -- Smashing Pumpkins

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Speak to me in a language I can hear Humor me before I have to go Deep in thought I forgive everyone As the cluttered streets greet me once again

I know I can't be late, supper's waiting on the table Tomorrow's just an excuse away So I pull my collar up and face the cold, on my own

Manami Shimizu has lead a tumultuous life. I’ve hinted at it here and there throughout the series, but now I’m going to be spelling it out, mostly because I haven’t seen anyone else comment on it. Practically nothing is known about her childhood, as it’s something she never speaks about, and only marginally more is known about her time as a criminal. The main factor everyone knows, is she became very influential in her sphere of activity, rising the ranks of her own criminal organization to become its leader in short time. This was only stopped when a very young All Might stepped in to handle the reality-ripper/borrower himself.

When Shimizu was offered a second chance, no one expected it, least of all Shimizu herself. After all, second chances were non-existent throughout the course of her life thus far. However, All Might knew her power was valuable, almost as much as her will and her heart, powerful and brave. What was even more surprising than that act of mercy, was the fact that Shimizu took it. So, almost overnight, Shimizu changed from being one of the fastest rising villains Japan had seen, to becoming a hero who knew villains from the inside out almost better than any other, and she dived into the role willingly. She was given her agency after the previous owner retired, and from there, she has created one of the most efficient hero agencies in Japan.

Despite all of this improvement, of course, it makes sense that one cannot always fully leave behind the life they once knew. Even if her actions today translate into nothing that could be related to her old gang, the memories are still there, in the corners of her mind; the things she fought for then, and how they have changed her now.

Ultimately, all she wants, all she has ever wanted, is for life to be better. Even back in the day, that was her ultimate goal; a better life, a happier life. It’s impossible to strive for perfection, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try, even if she has to do so on her own.

And that concludes this third post regarding members of the hero agency we’ve come to know and love! Next post, we’ll go over non-agency characters, some beloved, and some a little less known!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Full Playlist]

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renka-aardvarknews-blog · 5 years

Text

PC-induced insanity in the US

By Robert Bridge, American writer and journalist. Former Editor-in-Chief of The Moscow News, he is author of the book, 'Midnight in the American Empire,' released in 2013. America is faced with the grim prospect of the First Amendment being abolished in the places where it should be most vibrant – the schools and universities. Nothing less than the nation’s survival is at stake. Judging by the current PC madness now afflicting America, it looks as though Uncle Sam rolled out of bed one morning, stared at his reflection in the mirror and said to himself, “I no longer identify as a normal nation with long-standing values, conservative ideals and a strong moral foundation. Today I identify as an intolerant and self-indulgent narcissist, ready to lash out and silence anyone who disagrees with my worldview.” And then many of the nation’s inhabitants quickly followed suit. Indeed, America seems to have reached the point in its ‘progressive’ development where those who seem to have literally lost their minds – much like the authority figures in Ken Kesey’s masterful 1962 novel, ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ – wish to institutionalize the remainder of the sane population. That preamble leads us to the greatest insane asylums of them all, the American university. Once the proud home of intellectualism and academic freedom, centres of higher learning now resemble fanatic hotbeds of intolerance and bigotry where an invasive type of poison ivy has overrun the structures, leaving the ivory towers to whither in perpetual darkness. Most people are only too familiar with horror stories of campus censorship where activist-minded students work to prevent guest speakers – sometimes by resorting to outright violence - from airing their ‘controversial’ ideas. Imagine that. The very cognitive exercise that allows ideas to ripen to perfection through open and free discussion is now deemed too radical for the university! These coddled young imbeciles seem to think that by paying exorbitant tuition fees entitles them to an inoffensive college experience in debate-free comfort zones where they may float for four effortless years in a bubble of self-delusional certainty. Perhaps the next step will be to make failing a class unacceptable because that would hurt too many feelings as well. What is most alarming about this situation is that it is the young and inexperienced – the apprentices who have paid admission to learn – who have laid down the ground rules to their masters. The word pathetic comes to mind. It is trying times like these when the world of academia could use a heavy dose of George Carlin, the late comedian who once described political correctness as nothing more than “fascism pretending to be manners.” But since Carlin is no longer with us, we will have to settle for some reserved remarks by a couple of staid and brave professors instead. In March 2017, two prominent academics, Robert P. George and Cornel West, co-wrote a statement in which they decried what they called ‘campus illiberalism,’ reminding students that the purpose of a university education is “truth-seeking, democracy and freedom of thought and expression.” That such a reminder was even necessary speaks volumes about how deplorable the situation has become. George and West harked back to the teachings of John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), the British philosopher who lectured that since our beliefs may be in error “is a good reason to listen to and honestly consider … points of view that we do not share, and even perspectives that we find shocking or scandalous.” That is essentially what Evelyn Beatrice Hall had in mind when she remarked, in words that would shock many students today, “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” Today, the PC thought thugs are attempting to superimpose their bold designs on humanity without any input from the rest of society. As just two samples, consider the endless questions involving the extremely controversial issue of transgenderism, the debate on which is now considered too radical and disrespectful to the subjects. The largely unchallenged belief that men can be women, and vice-versa – a view that is rigorously defended in many university Gender Studies programs – has had serious implications in many places, not least of in the world of sport where born males are now competing in events alongside females. This debate also leads to the question over the use of gender-neutral pronouns when addressing people. Despite the fact that such unprecedented issues require the highest level of frank discussion, the trend in the educational system is moving towards greater censorship and control. This month, for example, lawmakers from New Jersey introduced a motion to remove The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from its public school curricula so as to avoid “an uncomfortable atmosphere in the classroom.” Again, the message is to shield the student from any disagreeable topics. As any American knows, this classic piece of literature by Mark Twain presents an unfiltered depiction of the antebellum South, even including liberal usage of the inflammatory n-word. Apart from the question of outright censorship, which is hard to stop once put into motion, it is highly doubtful that sanitizing American classrooms will do anyone any good. In fact, it practically guarantees that Americans will be doomed to repeat history because they are essentially burning the controversial books that allowed such unfortunate moments to be remembered. Toni Morrison, the prominent African-American novelist, initially had misgivings over Twain's classic work, but later reconciled herself to the belief that the book had valuable lessons to teach. Attempts to ban it, she said, represented a “purist yet elementary kind of censorship designed to appease adults rather than educate children.” Sadly, not everyone views censorship in such an open-minded way. The aggressive move to purge everything disagreeable from US history is beginning to rear its head in other ways as well, most notably with the systematic removal of Civil War monuments to Confederate leaders who fought against the Union forces. It cannot be emphasized enough that removing statues does not remove the stain of history; it only allows the public to discard history lessons that should never be forgotten (the argument that says history books can substitute for bronze statues in the public square doesn’t hold up to scrutiny when the move towards banning books is already in its latent stages). So what can be done to stop the slide towards blatant censorship in the public domain, not least of all the university? Well, Donald Trump has an idea, which is an intriguing albeit unfortunate one. The US leader said he would “sign an executive order requiring colleges and universities to support free speech if they want federal research funds.” That makes sense. After all, why should the US government be expected to fund colleges and universities that are refusing to honor the US Constitution? Although such a move makes for a temporary band-aid, the mortal wound of political correctness that has gravely inflicted the United States, and the rest of the Western world as well, will not heal even for lack of dollars. Thus, the conservatives and the liberals will continue chasing each other, year after year, in a game of fox and rabbit that will eventually lead both to their demise, and with it that of the country too. Unless the Democrats and Republicans can finally agree that no amount of political correctness or social-justice nonsense should interfere with the 1st Amendment right to free speech, the future health and success of the United States will remain severely in doubt. And what do people in Japan think about Political Correctness? Read the full article

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

The Insect Man [HR]

Auckland. A hot day. Hot as a wet woollen sweater day. Over a chair. Wet, smoking in the sun. Low buzz. In the background. High buzzing. A lot of this. Hum as insects spin in lazy arcs through the hazy sun. Flies swooping, cutting in long arcs. Climbing, dropping. Clambering up the bark of sweating pines. Cicadas making their love call. Desperate and confident as a brick wall is unceasing. Carapaces cracking open like dry pastry in the oven. Leaving behind colourless ghosts, still clinging in time to the old one, dry as summer leaves.

A cool breeze blows off the suburban neighbourhood. Hot air off black tarmac. Sabine wipes her hand on the back of her wrist and draws it slowly along her forearm. The sweat pools and drips off her fingers. She thanks God for the breeze then bends down to scoop up the sheet for the line. Alan lies stretched out on the lawn like a snow angel. In dark sun goggles, he stares straight up, still as a sleeper in the depths of a dream. As she watches affected, a fly banks hard from a speedy pass, ending up on her son's face. Disrupted, he lifts a hand to shoo it away before letting his hand slump back onto the grass. She loves days like this, Sabine thinks to herself.

Later. Tonight.

"Unfortunately I interrupt tonights programmed programme to inform you of the murder, most gross and foul, of 3 dogs in your local area. After a crime wave of dog murders in your neighborhood, three more were found brutally stabbed to death. This leaves us with a total of 6 murdered pets in Mt. Eden over the last 3 months. If you have a pet, we highly recommend making sure the animal stays inside the house when you are not there, and that you keep a close eye on them while you are at home”.

Sabine watches her son.

“Mum, why can’t we get a dog?”

Sabine looks at her son, closely.

“How do you mean, dumpling?”

“I mean, I want a dog. Can we get one?”

“Well..” I’m distracted by something. What are the words? What do I say when this happens? I mean, “Maybe darling. Maybe one day.” Maybe works, but

Alan squirms like something’s wriggling its way out of him. A parasite that’s found water. “I really want one. I really want one Mum. I know it would be good for me”. He leans. Looking into his hands as though they held something he was unable to put into words. He is so very sincere.

“What do you.. Why do you want a dog, my love?”

“Because it would be amazing! And I could feed it, I would take it for walks!” He is like bubbles now. So sure of themselves. When did I lose that?

Sabine laughs, and notices the deep vibrations of the guffaw. Her chin so high. She looks. Her eyes crumple and skin crinkles. She beams. She loves him. Right? That’s what this is? Love? He is like a completion of her. Somehow. She basks but stops: “We will see, my darling. OK?”

“Awesome” (he knows this is false hope). He smiles like it’s certainty.

She feels that bravery. He is so brave. “You have Crookshanks” Sabine murmurs, enquiring.

“Yeah but he’s your cat Mum.”

Sabine is taken back.

“What? He’s ours! We’re a team!”

“I know.”

“It’s the three of us!”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What’s wrong with Crookshanks?”

“There’s nothing wrong with Crookshanks. I love Crookshanks!” And at that moment both Mother and Son look across to the beanbag, where Crookshanks lay, and Crookshanks looked back. Crookshanks stretched right out, paws pushing, stomach stretched to its most shuddering maximum. “You’re a good one, Crookshanks.” Alan stating, rubbing Crookshanks’ tummy with an open hand.

“You’d just like a dog.”

“Yeah.”

Alan was beautiful.

Another day. Fine weather. Hot. Breakfast dishes done, I look outside for Alan.

“Ants, Mum!”

I walk around the bench to the sliding doors.

“Mum, a big line”.

I arrive at the sliding doors, stepping past Crookshanks coming in the other way. When I look up there is Alan, he stares at the ground with an upright fastidiousness. Rigid bodied, a long spit drools out of his mouth. It stretches and gathers momentum before snapping. A large glob falls down and splats soundlessly on the concrete tile.

“I got some of them”.

“Ok, love.” Sabine moves back to the house.

“I’m gonna boil some water!” Alan calls to her. “Kill them all!”

Empty plate and a handful of grubs and a man in a black and white suit at the end of a hallway. Flowers down the walls but the flowers die as I move towards him. Time to get up. Time to go. Weird dreams. Wake up. Get up. Get out of bed. Help myself to the cerea- no the coffee. Need the coffee first. Go have a shower, wake Alan up. Drop him to school. Drive. Cold morning. Weird because summer. Maybe I should bring some gloves tomorrow. Park in right space. Not too far away, have to carry the files. Haaaaaah. Stop. Breathe for a bit. I’m 12 minutes early. Don’t need to get out of the car quite yet. Breathe. What a beautiful morning. But I’ve got a lot to do. These houses. Beautifully well made. And the birds. Oh shit, meeting at 8.15. Ok, no, leaving car now c’mon let’s go. Get into the office.

“Hi Jan”

“Hi Sabine”.

“Did you hear about the murders?”

“Of the dogs, yeah!”

“Yeah that bit of the dogs, oo actually I heard something about that, but nah only I meant the police officer”

“A policeman died?”

“Yeah another shoot up”

“Drug dealer or something?”

“Something like that, yeah. Out in Papakura.”

“Wow. Heavy summer.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Yeah, that’s right. You’ve brought the boxes.”

“Yeah, God I’m sweating”. Shouldn’t blaspheme.

“You’re alright, put ‘em over here.”

“Putting!”

Jan stops and puts her hand on her hips. She can’t help but smile at that one.

“You’re a doll, Sabine.”

“Move over Wonder Woman I say.”

“Too bloody right. Now let’s get to separating.”

I get home and Alan’s not there. He’s not home he’s taking his sweet time walking home from school. Maybe got the wrong bus stop. I mean Alan is fine and it’s about time anyway he feels ok wandering about doing his own thing. Can’t have his mother stressing him out. Like I don’t trust him or something. He’s not home and I feel a bit empty. Almost feel like making a sandwich. Where could he be. You better tell him he lets you know in future about this sort of thing. After school plans, he’d tell me. I’d know. But what if it’s friends. Or a girl? C’mon he’s much too young

And weird

What the hell? No he’s perfect.

The kid likes steam punk, Sabine. Face it, he’s gunna be a long time leaving the nest.

God, I must be hungry, I need a sandwich-

“Hey Mum”.

Alan was stood in the doorway one hand holding the doorframe, the other lingering at the bike helmet on his head. The hand, hovering, snatched at the clasp and ripped the helmet off. The fingers, like at the wheel; driving themselves. While his eyes, gazing big and round, swam on up at her.

“I went for a bike ride for a bit. What’s for dinner?”

“Ooh I don’t know, maybe curry perhaps?”

“Yay!”

The thump thump of his trundling down the hall. The slap of a bag landing on a bed. The meowed complaint from a disrupted crookshanks.

That night we watched TV. A new season of a reality show. The Block? I like these ones because Alan’s finally at an age where we can watch something together that we are both interested in. It’s nice sharing that with him. I remember thinking that I was disappointed in this most recent season. I felt like they were spending too much time on all the arguments all the couples were having. I don’t like that for Alan. Maybe we need to watch something else. Maybe a cooking show. There’s that Australian one where kids compete. Masterchef? Isn't there a kids Masterchef?

“Where were you tonight, honey?” I asked, trying to be subtle, nonchalant.

“When Mum?”

“After school. I beat you home. Where’d you go?” “I don’t remember.”

Then he went away in his eyes.

“I was following a butterfly.” He said finally. “I just rode around.. ” But his sentence sort of went up like he wasn’t sure. Then he went away again. Where are you, Alan? Perhaps it’s teenage hormones kicking in. Metamorphosis stage.

WHACK. Brakes on. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Sabine’s Silver Audi A4 slammed to a standstill stock stuck in the middle of Abbots Way. A strong ringing buzzes in her ears. Smoke from the tires. You can smell them. Thank God there was no one behind her. What made her stop?

Smudged all down the windscreen. The remains of a tiny being. One segmented leg twitches, toyed by the breeze, amid a splatter of lime green guts and dark brown shell chunks. Breathe out. Goddamn heart is racing. Don’t Blaspheme. Twitching like a beckoning finger against her windscreen. That and some wavering, ripped torso are the only things left to tell you what it once was, basically. Beckoning. Twitching.

HONK.

Sabine’s head snaps around, her heart starting again. Oh gosh, I’m in the middle of the God damn road, I need to get on going, what an idiot

More screeching brakes.

SLAM.

“FUCK!”

A red Toyota 4WD had pulled out of the road to get around her and an oncoming car ploughed straight into the front tire. A shattering crunch showered and skidding tires complained against stone in the ink dark of the main road. The Nissan Tiida was practically bounced back as it collided, vollying metal and plastic chunks. The two cars slid away from each other like struck in thick muck, slithering backward to a violent stop. Noses both facing Sabine’s. Reaching for her door handle, Sabine opened her door. She held her door for a moment, before swinging herself out. Through weak knees she walked forward. She was perhaps 6 or 7 metres away from the crash. She looked back at a car coming to stop behind hers, the face of its driver screwed up in disbelief. Sabine managed a little wave of her hand to communicate.. something? Sabine lurched ahead. The woman in the red toyota was shocked and stunned.

“I-I was watching you, you stopped so violently, I wasn’t looking when I pulled out” said the woman; tousled hair spilling out of her follicles. An auburn waterfall, shaking as she shakes.

Sabine loses strength in her chest. Like being winded.

“God, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” Sabine stumbles. She looks back to see the driver from the car behind hers moving briskly toward the Nissan. “Do you need me to call the police?”

“Yes please”. Nodding, shaking. “Thank you. God it happened so fast. Why did you stop?”

Sabine stopped and stared. Why?

“I hit a..”

A what?

“A bug, thing.. It made such a noise. I thought I’d hit something.”

The brown haired lady looked fierce now.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call the police.” Another lady from the car stopped behind Sabine’s.

The brown haired driver of the Toyota, got out of the car, gingerly and quick, and moved toward the Nissan, who’s front was very worse for wear.

Sabine moved aside and wanted to go with her. But she felt if she looked too far into that smashed car she would be sick. Its driver was a young indian woman with a large nose and a white shirt. She was leaning just out of the drivers door. Not knowing what to do, and feeling exposed, Sabine sat in her car and waited for the police to arrive.

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