#ACTUALLY need to draw Fake/Real!Wick more

[herecomesthesol]

SO my first mistake was to look at the boy. The second was thinking It'll only be just one little sketchie. The third being thinking I could try and put a gradient in there without trying to actively shade it.

But all the while no regrets

Woe your boys upon thee!!! @naivesilver @lizardthelizard

[otnesse]

Agreed, and not just during the modern day either. We had those kinds of petty jerkwads as far back as the 1980s, especially when we got Beauty and the Beast and Linda Woolverton due to those so-called "critics" bashing The Little Mermaid for "problems" that never even existed in the first place. Bashing Ariel for being "cloyingly sexist" just because she fell in love with Eric, while completely ignoring that she saved his butt TWICE, or for that matter acting as though Ariel left her family for a guy she barely even met (when, 1., her going to Ursula was actually the result of her FATHER going too far when confronting her on rescuing Eric, 2., she actually intended to meet Eric and learn more about humanity while she was still a mermaid based on what she was relaying just before the Under the Sea number, and 3., She if anything actually got to know Eric's overall character by spying on him far more than most girls did by direct interactions). And what that resulted in was a female protagonist who acted more like her wicked sisters in the original tale than the actual Belle, and late in the movie pretty much sold Beast and his servants out to get herself out of a jam (find it ironic that they bash Ariel as treasonous when she didn't even know and had no real way of knowing Ursula was still going after her father [especially when Ursula had to fake reform to convince her into the deal], yet conveniently ignore the fact that Belle, despite very obviously deducing just how much of a scumbag Gaston truly was with the blackmail attempt, DELIBERATELY exposed Beast to the mob, Gaston included, even though the fact Gaston went as far as to order the arrest of her dad to force her hand in marriage would mean he would NOT tolerate anyone she liked even the slightest bit better than him and go to extreme measures to eliminate the competition would most certainly have crossed her mind. If anything, Belle came across as worse in THAT situation than with Ariel.).

And make no mistake, I FULLY intend to do a far better job with Beauty and the Beast in Woolverton's shoes. I'll draw directly from the original sources, for one thing (like make sure Belle's part fae/whatever the Enchantress is supposed to be), and if I do make any needed expansions, I'd make sure to look for any sources that might help aid in character and plot development (like Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII for one thing, particularly the Bhunivelze climax for the final battle), also draw from actual history like the Enlightenment period in France or even post-Enlightenment. Not to mention make sure the Enchantress is the actual main antagonist instead of Gaston (he'll still be an antagonist, but he'll be more of a minor character overall, and I'm considering maybe redeeming him somewhat and making him more of an anti-villain).

[pregnant-piggy]

Jo’s play

March sisters x reader

words: 1.4k

warnings: mention of a fake death

A/N: i would literally to anything to join one of Jo’s plays

The curtains around the homemade stage were closed, letting very little light in on the side behind the curtains. On the other side sat a dozen or so young girls, silently waiting for the promised spectacle to begin. 

On your side however, it was not quiet as the very last preparations were being made and people were put in their place. The loud thuds of Jo’s boots were almost deafening your ears as she was walking up and down on the ‘stage’. 

‘Amy, go back! They can see you like this! Beth, please don’t forget your lines again. Meg, do not fret about your dress, you look fine. y/n, remember to make your death realistic, I won’t be accepting your lousy attempts from last time!’ 

You rolled your eyes and crept back in the shadows, waiting for your first appearance. Amy was sitting next to you, silently mocking Jo and making you giggle. You loved Jo dearly, but in moments like these she could go a tad crazy. 

Jo and Beth were hiding opposite of you in the shadows and Meg was the only one on the stage when the curtains opened. As soon as the lights hit her, she turned from Meg into Hester, the lonely queen who had lost her husband in the war and had no children to follow him up. Hester sang a melancholy song about her loss and her problem and received a great applause when she finished. 

Then a sweet, little servant walked on stage, telling Hester that a young boy had arrived at the gates. The servant left again, and Hester started pondering about the possibilities this brought her. 

In the background you crept on the stage, Hester’s nephew, Fabian. You were wearing a beard around your chin and a long men's coat that fell over your knees. 

‘If this youngling has no family, I could take him on on my own!’ Hester thought out loud. ‘I could raise him to be the mightiest king this land has ever seen!’ 

Hester left the stage and you walked forward, exclaiming that this strange boy could never become the king, for that was your duty already, and you would do anything to stop him. 

The curtains closed on you and a quick palace was built before act two opened with Jo as the strange boy standing in front of Hester. 

‘Tell me, my boy!’ Hester said, taking the boy’s hand. ‘What is your name?’ 

‘My name is Marvin, Your Majesty! I am but a mere poor child from your capital city, robbed from his family and now seeking a place to stay for the night.’ 

‘Do not worry more, young child! I will give you a place to live,’ Hester spoke and she called the servant to her. ‘Take this boy to his chambers, I will call on him later this night.’ 

The servant took Marvin away from the stage and the queen was left, content with herself and her plans. At that moment, you walked back on stage, with on your hand a lovely young lady, named Katherine, whom you had intended to marry once you were king. The young lady was played by Amy, who adored her part for she could dress up like a ‘real, proper madame’. 

‘Oh, Earl Fabian!’ Hester said as she noticed you and your lady. ‘Just the right person! I need to ask you for a favour, my dear nephew!’ 

Queen Hester asked you to take on the lessons for Marvin, as he had to learn the rules of kingship. After a moment of thought you agreed and walked off, just as the curtains closed again. 

Act three opened in your chambers, where you spoke with your lady about your plan to make her your queen, telling her that you would teach Marvin all the wrong ways. Katherine was delighted and promised to help you wherever she could, before the young boy walked on stage, for his lessons. 

‘Come here, my boy,’ you said and noticed the glitter in Jo’s eyes at the words. ‘I will teach you all you need to know about being a king, for I know what the Queen’s plans are for you.’ 

Then you and Jo performed a song as Fabian and Marvin, the first teaching the second all the things you oughtn’t do as king as though they were the right things. 

‘And that, my child, is how you become a great king!’ 

The next act was a love scene between Katherine and Marvin. The stage had been rebuilt to a rose garden, with real and paper roses, leaves made of papers of Jo’s old books, and Amy’s drawings of flowers. On a bench, that was actually just two chairs with a sheet over them, Katherine sat and Marvin dropped to his knee, confessing he had fallen madly in love with Katherine and could not live without her love. 

Katherine, being so charmed by Marvin, told him of the plan Fabian has for him, and decided that she would marry the man who turned to be king. Marvin was satisfied by that answer and vowed he would do anything to stop Fabian and protect Katherine from his danger. 

The dramatic scene ended in laughter when Marvin, who meant to sit down on the bench, sat right in between the two chairs and fell through the sheet on the ground. You and Meg quickly closed the curtains and helped Jo get up. 

‘Jo, are you alright?’ you asked worried, but Jo jumped right back up and shook the accident off. 

‘Never been better!’ she laughed. ‘Come on, we’ve got a show to put on!’ 

You built the stage to the inside of the palace again, where Marvin was telling the queen about Fabian’s plans. 

‘I knew that man was no good!’ Hester cried out, throwing her arms up in frustration. ‘He has wanted to take my husband’s place on the throne ever since I married. I never should have kept him here!’ 

Then Queen Hester ordered her servant to fetch Fabian, so she could have a word with him. Beth returned with you on the stage and quickly disappeared in a corner. 

‘How can I be of aid, Your Majesty?’ you asked, bowing for the queen. 

‘Do not put up those airs with me, nephew! I know of your plans!’ Hester said, staring down on you. ‘’Fess up!’ 

‘I have nothing to confess, My Queen,’ you lied. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about, I am afraid.’

Hester stepped aside and revealed Katherine holding Marvin’s hand tightly. You stood up and stepped closer to the woman you had once loved. 

‘I knew I should have never trusted you! You wicked,—’ 

Marvin cut you off by pulling his sword on you and stepping in front of Katherine. You took your own sword and so a battle between the two men began. Circling around the stage, you hit and blocked and Marvin blocked and lashed out, while the women on the side gasped and screamed at the right times. 

For a minute you fought with Marvin, until he stabbed you in your chest. Jo stuck her sword under your arm and you held it there as you fell to the ground. In much agony you shouted until you fell dead silent and as you lay on the floor, Marvin bent over you, retrieving his sword from your chest. 

‘Three hoorays for our new king!’ Hester exclaimed and Marvin kissed Katherine happily on her cheek. 

The girls in the audience started to applaud and cheer as you and the sisters gathered on the stage and bowed. In the back of the room Mrs. March and Hannah stood, clapping their hands with proud faces. 

‘Refreshments are downstairs, thank you very much!’ Meg announced and the curtains closed again. 

Darkness filled the stage again and for a second it was silent. 

‘Jo, that was incredible! You all did so good! Meg, your voice is wondrous! Oh, Amy you looked so pretty in the light! Beth, you were amazing! y/n, your death was so dramatic!’ 

It was a mix of little screams of delight and praises all around, everyone hugged the other. You and Jo were jumping with excitement and you flew around her neck, making her fall over, taking you and the curtains along in her fall. 

Meg stood over you and shook her head, but she had a smile on her face. ‘Are you two boys done messing around?’

- - - - - - -

taglist: @natashxromanovfreads​​ @tommy-braccoli​​

[missdawnandherdusk]

Together In Paris

Auror!Draco X Auror!Reader

Summary: Cliche mini-series: There was only one bed/fake dating

A/n: I have no idea where this came from but it’s beautiful and so soft and cute and ugh. I love you guys so much so let me know what you think as always!! Also this is 8k words because I have no self control at all.

“There has to be some mistake,” I gasped. “Harry, you can’t be serious!”

“I need this case in the hands of my two best Aurors, and that’s you and Malfoy,” Harry leaned against his desk, arms crossed.

Draco was very quiet and very still beside me. Where my anger was loud and biting, I could tell that his was cold and unforgiving.

“Okay, and I’m flattered, but Harry,” I dismayed. “This is a weekend in Paris for a couples retreat. What the bloody hell do you expect us to do there?”

“Act like a couple,” Harry said, as if it were obvious. And I wished that it wasn’t. “And bring in this potions smuggler,”

I huffed and stormed off, heading to my desk to gather what I needed for this god forsaken case. Stupid Harry. Stupid Malfoy. Stupid shiny shoes that were in my line of vision.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy,” I looked up, abandoning my spare anti-hex potions in their bottom drawer. “What do you want?”

“You act like I’m happy about this,” He snapped coldly. “I’d rather spend a weekend in Paris doing something enjoyable with just about anyone else.”

Fury burned in my heart as his words pierced it. I couldn’t deny that they stung a bit. Truthfully, Draco wasn’t the worst person to get stuck on a case with. Instead I was angry because Harry just assumed that I’d be okay with pretending to date someone, even for a case.

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” I snarled. “What do you want Malfoy?” I sighed, continuing to pack my bag.

“What time would you like me to pick you up tonight?” His tone was so polite that it had me reeling, abandoning my task of packing.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The case, it starts tomorrow evening. I assume that you’d like to get there early and see what we’re dealing with? You have with cases before,” He gave in tidbit of knowledge so offhandedly that I almost missed how Draco had somehow managed to pick up on my habits.

“I... uh. Yeah,” I zipped my bag and slung it over my shoulder. “Is seven alright with you? I have a few things that I need to get in order before we head out.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven then,”

Deciding that the interaction with Draco was one of the weirder moments of my life, I prepared myself for a weekend filled with... coupling—ugh. I spent about an hour ranting to my empty flat as I packed a suitcase and garment bag, my more expensive dresses safely inside. I paused in the mirror and sighed wistfully. Coupled with Draco Malfoy. Yeah right. We weren’t even in the same spheres of influence. Our spheres didn’t even touch remotely.

Promptly at seven, my doorbell rang, and I could tell that Draco was eyeing my jeans and sweater skeptically. I seemed like a teenager standing next to his immaculate, no doubt tailored- to-him suit. Lost. Lost was a good word that fit. I seemed lost when I stood beside Draco.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” I sighed, letting him in so that we could apparate together.

I should have looked over the case notes a bit more. I would have dressed better if I had known Draco and I would be staying at the Ritz. I understood Draco’s look of contempt for my wardrobe earlier.

“Are you ready?” He asked again, softly.

“Yeah, sure.” I smiled settling into a fake persona that was desperately in love with Draco Malfoy. With the smile he returned, I could tell that Draco had done the same as he wrapped his arm around my waist. I tried not to gawk at the lavish lobby as Draco checked us in and I tried to also ignore the disapproving looks I got from the staff about my wardrobe. I stuck closer to Draco after one to many nasty stares.

French fell elegantly from his lips as he spoke to the receptionist. It escaped my mind that he could speak the language—it was probably one of the leading reasons that he was placed on this case: he could thrive without a translation spell. The small French woman made a remark that seemed to upset Draco, his words becoming harsh, his lip curling in anger. The woman started to stammer her words in what I assumed was apologies as she smiled nervously at me before pressing a key into Draco’s hands. A bellhop followed behind us with our luggage.

“What was that all about?” I asked Draco when we were alone in a imperial suite—either the Ministry had given Harry way too much power over funds or this had Malfoy written all over it.

“What was what?” Draco asked, drawing the curtains.

“The receptionist,” I gave, running my fingers over a marble statue of the Venus De Milo.

“Yes? What about her?” He raised an eyebrow at me, shrugging off his blazer and undoing his cufflinks.

“You snapped at her,”

“Ah,” Draco’s lips drew into a thin smile. “Well, I could hardly stand for her to be insulting the love of my life, now could I?” Sarcasm dripped in his tone as his smile became wicked.

“Oh, you stuffy people and your stuffy rules!” I dismayed. “Jeans are comfortable! So are sweaters!” I folded my arms childishly.

“I’m not arguing there, but Y/n, come on, at the Ritz?” Draco piqued an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know it would be here! Bloody hell, I would have dressed better if I knew!” It’s what I had been wanting to scream for the past hour that it felt nice to let the words finally leave my lips.

A chuckle fell from his lips as he sat at in a plush armchair, gesturing for me to join him. I sighed and sat in the adjacent chair, pulling my legs up onto the seat with me. If Draco disapproved, he didn’t voice his opinion.

“Now, before we begin,” His voice dropped into a formal tone, and I knew he was speaking about the case. “I need to know boundaries for you. Yes, we have to be a couple, but I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable or throw you off guard. I need you sharp and focused for us to do this case successfully,”

“That was... almost sweet,” I chuckled darkly.

My tongue darted between my lips as memories that I tried hard to keep locked down came resurfacing. It was another reason for my fury about the case. Harry knew that I had just gotten out of a toxic long-term relationship and I doubted he thought twice about my approval on the matter of this case. My eyes dropped to my lap; my eyebrows drawn together.

“Y/n,” He called softly, drawing my attention from my spiraling thoughts.

“Just...” I started. “I’m fine. Hug me, kiss me, hold me close, call me whatever, I don’t care,” The words were sharper than I meant them to be as I stormed out of the room and slammed whatever door was between us.

Leaning against the same door, fighting tears and the urge to apparate back home, my eyes settled on one large, silk draped, pillow lined, king sized bed.

“No,” I gasped. “No, no, no!” I screamed. “There is no way in hell!” 

“Y/n?” A soft knock was on the door behind me.

I yanked it open and met an anxious looking Draco.

“What the hell!?” I gestured wildly to the bed.

“Are you alright?” Draco neared me cautiously. “Are you sure you’re up for this case?” 

“Oh, don’t patronize me!” I snapped. “I’m just fine!”

“Then what in the world are you on about?” He folded his arms defiantly.

“The bed,” I hissed.

“Yes, what about it?” Oh, I wanted to punch him. 

“There’s only one.”

“Oh, she can count, the day is saved,” Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, there’s one bed, do you think a couple would be sleeping in separate beds? We have a cover to keep,”

My face scrunched up in anger as I sighed and scrubbed my face, my resolve falling flat.

“Right, the case.” I nodded, putting on a false calm smile. “Any boundaries of yours I need to know about?”

Draco eyed me warily, and whatever he wanted to say died on his tongue as he regained composure.

“Just be polite. Formal. We’re... how did you put it? Stuffy people, not teenagers,” There was a small smile on his lips.

“Right,” I nodded and sighed. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,”

“It’s my fault, I should have warned you.” His tone was soft. “And I also should have mentioned that I fully planned on sleeping on the floor, or perhaps a couch. I’d never impose on your privacy like that.”

I thawed a little more and my smile became a bit more real. “Thank you, Draco,”

“I’ll... leave you alone. If you’d like to change, we can explore a bit, though it’s all about the same here,”

“You say that like you come to Paris for lunch,” I drawled. “Not all of us have been out of the country, Malfoy,”

“You’ve—” He backtracked. “You’ve never been to Paris?” 

“No?”

“Get changed,” He ordered. “Never been to Paris,” He scoffed, closing the door behind him.

 __________________________

........................

“Harry,” Draco hissed, his eyes darting away from your retreating form.

“Can it, Malfoy,” Harry pushed off his desk and rounded it. “I don’t want to hear how you don’t want the case either,”

“Forget about me.” Draco nearly roared. “Don’t you understand how bad this is going to be for Y/n? How much this is going to hurt her?”

Harry looked dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you are so blind!” Draco distressed. “She just got out of a very unhealthy relationship not a month ago and you want her to pretend to be in love with someone else? Are you bloody mad?”

“It’s just one weekend,” Harry insisted.

“Oh, I pity the girl you take home,” Draco sneered. “I’ll do the case. For her sake.” 

...................

Of course, Draco knew about your breakup. He worked with you for Merlin’s sake. He noticed when you were too quiet or skipped out on meals. Not that he ever meant to, but he liked his routine, and every other person in their rightful place as well. He noticed when a pattern was broken.

You were still a brilliant Auror despite it all. You smiled more. You actual made conversation with him now. He was happy for you. You seemed... free. Reanimated. He feared that this case would be the mental breakdown that everyone around you seemed to be waiting for. And Draco didn’t know if he was ready for that. He didn’t know if you were ready for that.

So, he’d be civil. He’d be a jerk if it meant sparing your feelings. He’d make this as easy as he could for you. He knew what it was like to need to break but terrified of the act itself. To hold his head high despite wanting to lash out at everyone and everything. And he had grown from it. Learned how to break in a healthy way. And how to pick himself back up.

It was about fifteen minutes before the bedroom door opened and you stepped out. Draco’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. Switching your jeans and sweater for an A-line black skirt that draped down your frame, paired with a white button up blouse, sheer thigh highs and a pair of heels in one hand and a Prada bag in the other.

“Is this okay?” You asked timidly. “I... I don’t really do this sort of thing,”

Your hair draped effortlessly down your shoulders, and light makeup that gave you an airbrushed look. An inviting look. Whatever made you think that you shouldn’t do this sort of thing needed to be stopped immediately because you looked wonderful.

“Draco?” You pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked a few times, recovering.

“Uh. Yes, that’s perfect,” He rushed out, your cheeks flushing pink. “Shall we?” He offered his arm.

Slipping on your heels, they clicked on the floor, a melody to the sharp sounds of his dress shoes harmonizing on the marble floors.

“So, you’ve never been to Paris?” He mused.

“No,” You looked down. “I’ve always wanted to travel but...” A sharp breath entered your glossy lips. “I guess I can now. Huh,” You smiled at the thought, holding your head high and Draco wondered if your ex-lover had prevented you from travelling. “So, this is Paris?” Your eyes flitted to the towering antique buildings, the smile remaining on your face.

“A small part of it,” Draco chuckled. “The night is coming soon, but if we have tomorrow, I’ll take you around the city,”

A laugh bubbled from your lips, a pretty sound that went with the flowers in the window boxes. The sun was setting and the streetlamps hanging their heads began to illuminate the Parisian streets. It gave the scene around them a softer look, painting you in a golden light.

“You know you don’t actually have to take me on a date,” You mused. “It’s just a case, Draco,”

“Case or not, I won’t have you in my city and not see some of it.” Draco decided.

“Your city?”

“You understand that I do have a summer home here, right?” He raised an eyebrow. “And this is where my family used to come on holiday? And that one of my best friends lives here?”

“Really?” Surprise flickered across your face. “Who?” 

“Pansy,” Draco smiled. “She moved here after...”

You nodded and your eyes traced to a small café and a couple sharing a soufflé on the patio. Your eyes dropped to the sidewalk under your heels, your smile falling.

“Would you like to get some dinner?” He asked softly.

“I... no thank you,” Your voice was quiet. “I already ate.” 

“Dessert then perhaps?” Draco tried. “Ever had crème brulee?” 

“Can’t say that I have,”

Your hand dropped from the crook of his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around yourself. He could see you shutting down at the thought and he wasn’t sure if he should keep pushing you or let you close yourself off.

“Don’t you think you deserve one? You’ve always wanted to come here, you’re here now. Don’t let him ruin it,” Scared he had overstepped his bounds as your silence dragged on, Draco began to grow more worried with each quiet second.

“You’re right,” You finally spoke. “I’m here now. I’m free to do as I please. And I really want to try a crème brulee,” There was a childlike smile on your face.

Draco led you across the cobblestone street to the small café that you had been eyeing earlier and swiftly ordered for the both of you in French as you got lost in the sights and smells around you.

Despite the later hour, the café was far from closing down. The waiter came with the assortment of bakery sweets that he had ordered, and you gaped at them.

“I thought we were getting one crème brulee,” You protested.

“Well, I figured you’d want to try a few other things as well. I know that you enjoy sweet things,”

Draco pushed the small dishes your way and watched you nibble your way through the pastries and desserts, hoarding the ones you enjoyed and passing to him the ones you didn’t prefer. You were lost in your own little world as you marveled at the Parisian pastries, particularly enjoying macarons—as well as your crème brulee.

“Thank you,” You looked down, a soft smile on your lips. “This was... really nice.” The dishes had been long cleared from the table and it left the pair staring that the stars through the shop window.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Draco offered his arm again and led you back towards the hotel.

There was only one bathroom in the suite, so Draco allowed you to use it first. In the meantime, he stood out on the balcony of the suite, overlooking the Paris skyline. It hadn’t changed much since he was a small child. The only thing that seemed to change massively was the one looking out. Draco didn’t know how long he stood there, pondering the stars, but your small voice pulled him from those thoughts.

He turned and you were back into your normal favored attire: cotton sweats and a sweater, thick socks on your feet and your hair in a messy ponytail. A smile touched his lips, because you looked just as wonderful like this.

__________________________

The girl in the mirror looked confused, but happy all the same.

“We’re just friends,” I told her. “That’s all I need. This is a case. This is a job, and Draco’s a friend.” She smiled back at me and nodded.

“Draco?”

He was on the balcony, lost in thought I supposed. He turned all the same, a soft smile on his face.

“I... I can take the couch if you want,” I offered. “I’m shorter than you... it’ll probably be a nightmare for you to sleep on the couch,” My gaze dropped as I shifted from foot to foot.

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco smiled, closing the French doors to the balcony and drawing the curtains. “I’ve done it before, I can do it again,”

“Oh,” I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that but brushed off the intrusive thoughts that threatened.

Since the bathroom was connected to the master bedroom, I perched on the bed, the bedside lamps on allowing me to continue my book. It was an old muggle classic that I found myself lost in. The bathroom door opened, and my eyes darted over to see Draco with damp hair in an old pair of Slytherin sweats and a V-neck. A small laugh escaped my lips at the sight.

“What?” He demanded.

“Nothing just didn’t expect to see you in Slytherin sweats, that’s all,” I closed my book, resting it on my lap.

“Oh, well.” He flushed slightly. “Goodnight,” 

“Goodnight,”

He closed the door behind him, and I stared at the ornate doors for longer than I cared to admit. Sighing, I pulled out the case file and began to comb through the details. Harry wanted us to find potions smugglers who sold to high-brow cliental. From Polyjuice potion to Death Draught. The next sale was supposed to go down this weekend here at the Ritz during a couples ball. There were no names given for the criminals, but a description: male, two meters tall, brown cropped hair, and green eyes.

There was something almost familiar about the description, but I couldn’t place it. Sighing, I set down the file and turned off the lights, settling in for a long day tomorrow. The oversized pillows and expensive sheets offered me no comfort. They were too cold, to silky. I craved my quilt from home and my cotton sheets.

Giving up on the notion of sleep, I threw off the covers and went to the closet. There I found a knitted blanket that was heavenly soft to the touch. Stripping the bed of the top sheet and duvet as well as most of the pillows, I curled up with the blanket and a couple pillows and chased sleep.

“What in Merlin’s name?” The voice was confused and loud for this early in the morning. “What did the pillows ever do to you?”

I blinked out of the warmth of my dream and into the crisp morning, face to face with a disheveled sleepy Draco Malfoy.

“What?” I sat up, scrubbing my eyes.

“The bed? Hell, if I knew you were going to demolish it, I would have said take the couch,” There was a slight smile on his face.

“Didn’t feel right...” I mumbled, hugging my knees. “I’ll... I’ll clean it all up.”

“Don’t bother, we’re paying enough, housekeeping can take care of it. I’ll ask if they can switch the sheets to cotton for you,”

“Oh, no. Please don’t cause any trouble on my behalf.” I stammered quickly. 

“It’s not trouble,” Draco smiled. “It’s their job, darling,”

“Doesn’t mean we have to make it harder.” I stumbled out of bed and grabbed my wand, casting a spell so that the bed remade itself. “Why are you up so early anyway? The sun is barely up.”

“Old habit,” he gave a tight smile. “Fancy some breakfast?”

“It’s too early to eat,” I grumbled. “Coffee however is necessary so lead the way, darling,” I drawled sarcastically, draping one of the hotel house coats around me to mirror Draco’s silk green one that he no doubt owned already.

Draco paused at the door.

“If you need an out. Or a break. At any time. Let me know and I’ll get you out.” His voice was careful and serious.

“I’m not going to break,” I refuted defiantly. “If that’s what you’re waiting for.” I pushed past him and out the door, down the hall and to the elevator. The ride was quiet and tense.

“I never meant to imply—”

“Just leave it.” I cut him off. “I haven’t had enough caffeine to deal with this yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered as we exited the elevator and I wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for, but it thawed me out a bit.

Breakfast was tense and quiet as we ate in silence. Draco read the Daily Prophet and I continued on my book. We made polite conversation with passersby and smiled like we were in love.

And I was in love. With the China teacups and their gold leaf accents. With the rich foods served and the beautiful decor. I was in love with the lavish tablecloths and the fancy napkins. I adored the chandeliers and sconces and fresh flowers that were on every table. It was beautiful and I was in love with it.

It wasn’t fair that Draco looked at home among the beautiful things. As if he came with them. “Are you still wanting to see the city?” He asked cautiously when we were back up in the suite.

“If you’re willing to put up with me for the day,” a smile touched my lips. “I... I know I can be a handful.”

“All things considered,” he mused softly. “I think you’re doing wonderfully.”

I smiled and lingered a moment longer than necessary before heading to the master bedroom to change. Favoring for a pair of high waisted black slim pants and a cold shoulder emerald top, I decided I could have looked worse. Lacing up my boots I headed out to Draco who was laying down his collar. His eyes swept over my figure, leaving me slightly self-conscious as I braided my hair loosely.

“Here,” Draco reached into the nearest drawer and pulled out a black ribbon and passed it to me before reaching back into the drawer. “These are my mother’s, but I don’t think she’ll mind you borrowing them,”

He offered me a black velvet box and inside were nestled a pair of diamond earrings. 

“Draco, I can’t—”

“You can and you will,” he smiled. “You deserve it,”

I looked at the earring and my resolves crumbled as I put them on.

“Is this your suite then?” I mused.

“Took you long enough to figure that one out,” he chuckled.

“Should have known from all the green,” I teased back.

“It’s a regal color,” Draco insisted.

“Sure thing darling,” a chuckle left my lips as we headed out the door. 

“It is!” He tried again, causing me to laugh. 

_________________________________

Draco had been to Paris just about as many times as he had been to London. Perhaps the city lost some of its shine over the years. Maybe after the war the Paris lights didn’t look the same to him. Perchance he had lost his childlike awe of the historical envied city.

But you... you had never been to Paris. You have never walked along the Seine. You had never seen the Eiffel Tower, never browsed the art of the Louvre. You’d never stood under the light filtered through the stain glass of the Notre Dame. Your fingers never ran over the rough stone of the Arc de Triomphe.

Now you had.

“This was a very nice not date,” You smiled, sitting beside him on a bench watching the people of Paris below you from the top of the Eiffel Tower. “I can see why you keep coming back,”

“I haven’t been since the... since I became an Auror,” Draco’s eyes were trained on the horizon.

“Well... I’m glad you came.” There was a gentle smile on your face as he caught your warm eyes. “On the case, I mean.” You recovered and looked down at your hands. “I know this probably isn’t easy for you either,”

“It could have been worse,” Draco teased lightly. “I could have been stuck with Greengrass,” His words seemed to pull you from your moping thoughts as your smile returned.

“She’s a sweet girl, I’m sure you would have been fine.” You went back to fidgeting with your hands, your eyes dropping to them, “Besides who wouldn’t want to go undercover as Draco Malfoy’s significant other,” It was a sad sort of humor.

“You?” Draco pressed softly.

You gnawed on your lip, lost in thought as your eyes became glassy with unshed tears. “We should go,” You barely whispered, standing. “We have a banquet tonight at the hotel.” 

“Y/n,” Draco followed you to the elevators.

“What?” It was a bit more defensive now.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t mean a lot of things, I know,” Your arms folded tightly across your chest, your head ducked down. “It’s fine, we have a case to do and a criminal to catch. You said it yourself, I need to be sharp and focused to do this successfully,” Your tone was clipped, and Draco was taken aback at your sudden change of attitude on a drop of a dime as his words came back to haunt him. “So, if you don’t mean any of it, then neither do I,”

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came. Your abrasive words sent him reeling. What had happened to the girl who was wonderstruck by the city? The girl who was amused at the street performers and the girl who smiled something carefree? Just when he thought the real you was free beside him, you caged her back again and locked him out, and he shouldn’t care, but he did. Because you were hurting. The same way that he used to.

But he had to admit that you were right, he had a case to accomplish. And if he wasn’t focused you could get hurt, he could get hurt, or the felon could slip through your fingers.

In his well tailor suit and his hair coiffed back precisely, he was ready to do everything and mean nothing. A cold mask that you mirrored as he met you in a deep navy draped silk gown, your heels in hand again. His heart didn’t mean to skip a beat.

Tucked against his side, smiling like you didn’t have a care in the world, he was quite glad that the other guests and staff didn’t expect much animation from him. It gave him time to keep an eye on you. He could schmooze with ease and little effort, and he soon learned that so could you. From the outside, you two looked perfectly smitten with another. Despite his many shortcomings, Harry was right, you two were perfect with this case.

But that’s not what held Draco’s main focus. Instead, it was the constant reminder that this meant nothing. Every gentle touch of your hand, every smile, every pet name, every laugh, every praise of him, every declaration of love, every concerned and caring word—they all meant nothing. It meant nothing to you. It was an act. A job. A case.

And he was losing focus.

Because though you had stumbled into his affluent world in jeans and a sweater, you were now at home among the wealthy wizards you now rubbed elbows with, possessing the grace and poise of someone who was brought up like he was. You knew how to use the silverware set before you. You knew proper etiquette.

“Miss Y/n,”

Amelia Bones, the former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was sat at the banquet table along with you and Draco. You rose your head politely, nodding a hello.

“I’m surprised to see you so cozy with Mr. Malfoy, was it not a month ago you were engaged to another?” Her words seemed harmless, but Draco watched your smile become more forced as the breaths passed.

“My apologies,” Draco cut in coldly. “But I don’t see how that is any of your business,” 

“Oh, forgive me dearie, I meant no offense at all,” Mrs. Bones flutter her hand.

“Of course,” You smiled widely, “And yes, you’re correct, but well, since working with Draco it deemed nearly impossible not to fall for him,” The look you gave him made him lose focus completely. “And it was an arranged marriage, my parents offered me the option at the beginning of the war, and well, I had no reason to refuse,” Your hand slipped into his. “Until I met Draco that was,”

“Oh, isn’t that just lovely,” Mrs. Bones fawned to her husband beside her. “A real fairytale ending you have yourself Y/n, I’m sure others are just dying to be in your shoes,”

“I’m sure,” Your smile became forced again, but you held your composure.

But that didn’t mean that Draco didn’t commandeer the conversation to keep the attention off of you for the remainder of the banquet. You excused yourself slightly early, though it was a polite time to leave, nonetheless. Draco bid the folks he was talking to and followed you out.

He found you on the balcony, barefoot, your hair out of the tight bun it had been in, your dress still on. The stars stretched out before you over the rooftops of Paris, the Eiffel Tower illuminated in the distance.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Your words were barely audible.

“I didn’t say anything,” Draco retorted, slipping off his blazer and tie.

“You were thinking it,”

He smiled as he came beside you, leaning against the railing.

“Maybe I was,” He sighed softly. “Regardless, you’re my partner on this case, and I dare say you’re a friend of mine. I’d like to know if you’re okay. It’s what friends do,”

A sigh escaped your lips as your eyes lifted from your hands back to the skyline blinking back tears.

“Friends,” You muttered weakly. Not that he liked the word much either, but he’d take it to keep you close.

“I... I know that we—I haven’t had much luck at this, but if... if you need someone to...” Draco trailed off, shaking his head. He knew it was a lost cause. He knew that you didn’t mean anything.

Again, you were quiet. He turned to leave, but you spoke up.

“He was supposed to be my happily ever after,” The words were soft and sad. “My prince charming come to save me.” Draco paused and turned back to you; his brows furrowed. “All this time I thought he’d save me... but I ended up saving myself, and him.” You went from facing the city to facing him, “And he refused to save himself. And made me feel terrible for saving myself... for becoming someone new... someone stronger.”

“You... seemed happier after...” Draco spoke carefully.

You nodded. “Everyone was waiting for me to break. To cry... go off the wall... and sometimes I wonder why I don’t. Why I can’t.” You turned your head to the side. “Sure, I get snappy... and the nights haunt me... but to cry? To miss someone who drained me?” A shrug fell from your shoulders. “I can’t do it...” A pause. “Maybe I am broken. I can’t even break properly.”

“No one said you had to break,” Draco took a careful step forward. “No one said you had to cry.” 

“But shouldn’t I?” There were tears in your eyes now.

“No,” Draco shook his head softly. “Breaking hurts, and it seems like you already have. Now you’re just picking up the pieces where you can,”

You mulled over the thought and nodded, facing the city once more.

“They always talk about the one who got away, but they never ask her why she left, do they?” The question was gentle from your lips as Draco left you alone to think. He was sure that he wasn’t meant to hear it, but he did.

____________________________

The cotton sheets of the king-sized bed that night welcomed me. The bedding had changed drastically, from silks and down feathers to cotton and quilted blankets. They were still green and gold, but it was an improvement as I stared at the paintings on the walls and ceiling. Despite the change in sheets, sleep still eluded me. Frustrated this time, I slipped on the housecoat and quietly opened the bedroom doors.

Only to find Draco awake with the light on, reading. I almost wanted to smile at how he was draped over the couch in sweats and nothing else, looking at home among the lavish furnishings. He looked up from his book.

“Can’t sleep,” I confessed, leaning against the door jam. “Thanks for the sheets and stuff though...”

“Is there something I can do?” He asked softly, setting down his book, sitting up.

“Got any Sleeping Draught on you?” I asked hopefully.

“Afraid not,” He pursed his lips.

Moving to the adjacent chaise lounge, I curled up under the throw blanket, running the golden fringe through my fingers.

I wasn’t aware of when I had fallen asleep. I was barely aware being carried to the lavish bed and tucked in. I was aware that I had moved when I awoke to the sun shining in through the curtains.

“Good morning,” Draco greeted as I exited the bedroom, dressed for the day.

The day was a quiet affair. Breakfast mimicked yesterday and lunch mirrored dinner last night. There was no time to go out on the city today, not with the masquerade ball tonight. This was the entire reason for this weekend in Paris. To get into this ball and catch the convict. It took the two hours that it took to get ready to remind myself that this was a case, and not a fairytale ending. I didn’t get those.

Draco escorted me down to the ballroom, commenting on how beautiful I was. I let the compliment roll off my shoulders though I desperately wanted to cling to his words. Words that he didn’t mean.

It didn’t seem fair that the entire Ritz hotel was something out of a fairytale and tonight I was required to pose as the perfect princess, though I felt far from it. My only relief was that my eyes were hidden behind a mask. No one would see accidental tears. I had told Draco that I didn’t need to break, but this might just break me.

An hour slipped by of talking and schmoozing other guests before Draco led me to an adjacent standing table, offering me a haven from the prying eyes and whispers.

“Would you care to dance?” Draco offered his hand, smiling, as the next waltz began from the live quartet.

“We don’t have time to dance,” I retorted. “We’re on a case here,”

“It’s just one dance,” He rolled his eyes, his hand sliding to my waist, ready to escort me.

“You need to focus on this case Draco,” I snapped. “We need to catch this guy in case you’ve forgotten.” I didn’t mean for the words to be so harsh.

“Of course,” His hand dropped from my waist, “If you’ll excuse me,” Draco said quietly. 

“Dray, wait, I didn’t mean—”

“I’d know those lips anywhere,” A familiar voice purred from behind me.

“Dean,” My breath caught in my throat as I turned, wishing I hadn’t just sent Draco off.

“And I thought he’d never leave.” Dean grinned. “I gotta say, didn’t think you’d move onto some stiff like Malfoy, and so soon. Does he know he’s a rebound?”

“Oh, fuck off,” I muttered, taking my clutch and walking away from him, scanning the crowd for Draco to no avail.

Dean grabbed my arm and spun me back, a dangerous look in his eyes. He pulled me to a quiet corner of the ballroom.

“Let go of me,” I shook him off, drawing my wand.

“Now, now, wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now would we?” His smile became predatory. “There are quite a few important Muggles in the crowd tonight,”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” I hissed.

“Such naughty language in front of such high paying cliental.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “It’s you,” I breathed out. “You’re the seller,”

“In the flesh, sweetheart,” His green eyes held danger. “What, didn’t expect me to move onto something better? Like you went off and did anything valuable with your life after me, not that Malfoy is much of an improvement.”

I hid my surprise well: he didn’t know that I was an Auror. He didn’t know about the case. Now all I had to do was get him away from harming anyone and pray that Draco would find me to help detain Dean. But to get Dean away from these people, I was going to have to break. Hard.

A perfect masquerade to be someone that I wasn’t. Someone that Dean wanted me to be. Someone who would break my heart.

“Tell me about,” I smiled sweetly, “Maybe I’ll ditch the stiff.” My eyes scanned over Dean in false want.

“So, you realize that leaving me was a mistake,” Dean tilted his chin back.

“Since the moment I walked away,” The lie weighed heavy on my tongue. “Please De,” My hand trailed up his arm.

I could feel my heart splintering. 

_______________________________

“Not to alarm you Mr. Malfoy, but it seems that your lady is being entertained by another young man,” Mrs. Bones spoke softly. “They just left out the side door,”

Draco snapped out of his self-pity party as he scanned the crowd for you, his anxiety and adrenaline spiking. You had found the convict.

“Thank you,” Draco gave curtly, untying the mask from around his head and as soon as the door closed behind him, he took off running, wand out, desperate to find you.

He heard soft voices in coming from an adjacent sitting room and cautiously hovered outside the door.

“Remember this?” The voice was low and husky, and one he didn’t recognize. 

“Yes,” Your breathy voice came in response.

A thousand thoughts ran through Draco’s mind and for a moment he thought that you really had run off with someone else. That you hadn’t found the felon, but rather someone to... He didn’t want to finish the thought.

“Say it,” The first voice demanded.

“I’m s-sorry,” Your voice whimpered. “I’m sorry I ever left you. Draco... he—he’s nothing compared to you,” Fear and tears were mixed with your voice and Draco had a very good idea of who was in there with you.

Call it jealousy, or his job, Draco burst into the room, finding you pinned against the wall, hands above your head held there by a young man whose lips were pressed to your neck, making you whimper and squeeze your eyes shut. A man with green eyes and brown cropped hair. Their target. And you had found him. And he seemed to know you. Very well.

Then it clicked. The criminal was your ex-lover. Of course, it was. When Draco saw Harry again, he was going to sock him a-la-muggle.

You look absolutely terrified when Draco caught your eyes. Your mask was gone, and you looked disheveled and defeated.

“I was hoping you’d show Malfoy,” An amused smile curled on the target’s lips as he let you go. You fell to the floor, caught off balance.

“Don’t hurt him,” You pleaded, picking yourself up, and Draco didn’t know if you were talking to him or the target.

“You’re not in a place to bargain, sweetheart,” The target snapped. “Auror Malfoy. Here to turn me in I suppose?”

“After I beat the hell out of you, yeah, it’s on my list of things to do,” Draco snarled. 

“What? For taking your girl from you?” The target laughed. “She was never yours.” 

“She might not be mine, but she sure as hell doesn’t belong to you either,”

“I’m afraid she does,” The target grabbed your arm and jerked you in front of him, creating a shield between he and Draco with you. “And you obviously care for her, so here’s what’s going to happen.” The man drew his wand and held it to your throat. “You’re going to let me make the deal I need to, and then I’m going to take Miss Y/l/n here and leave,”

Draco glowered, his mind racing to figure out how to get you safely out of this. He could see you trembling, your eyes refusing to meet his.

“Dean, please,” You whimpered, curling yourself into his arms.

Your arms draped around the target’s—Dean’s shoulders as you whispered soft things into his ear that made Dean grin and Draco’s blood boil. How could Dean not see how uncomfortable you were? How you shied away from him? Draco’s grip on his wand tightened.

He watched as your lips pressed to Dean’s neck, your hands trailing down his ill-fitting polyester suit as you slinked your way around the felon, distracting Dean long enough that Draco was able to throw a Full Body Bind at him.

“You bitch!” Dean roared.

“You’re the bitch here,” You snarled. “How in a million years could you think that I would want you?” Seething you rounded your frozen ex, wand drawn. “I did do something with my life you asshole! I’m an Auror! And a damn good one!”

“You never had the guts,” Dean barked a laugh.

“On the contrary,” Draco grinned. “She’s the best one we’ve got,”

“You two set me up!”

“Duh,” You laughed, tucking away your wand.

Draco wanted to warn you about the dangers of the deed, but you surprised him and drew back your fist, landing it squarely on Dean’s nose.

“That’s for assaulting me!” Another to his jaw, “That’s for using me!” One more to his cheek, “And that’s for coming back into my life,”

You turned and walked away from Dean, leaving him bleeding, still petrified. Draco caught your hand before you stormed out of the room.

“I’m fine,” You shrugged him off.

“No, you’re not,” Draco refuted.

“Awe, trying to play hero, now?” Dean jeered.

You froze under Draco’s touch, squeezing your eyes shut, your jaw clenching.

“She doesn’t need a hero,” Draco let you go and faced Dean. “She picked herself back up and walked away from a lowlife like you. You were so wrong to ever assume that she needed to be saved.”

There was a knock on the door. 

______________________________

I was still trembling. It had been about two hours since Dean first touched me. First shoved me against a wall and forced his lips on mine. From when I had first started to shatter.

In that time, Mrs. Bones had intervened and called backup to detain and court away Dean to Azkaban, the room had been cleaned of any trace of our battle, and Draco and I were alone in the suite, for one last night before we left.

We hadn’t spoken a word since the fight and the tension between us was tangible. Curled up in a deck chair, I desperately tried to rid my mind from Dean and the feeling of his hands on me, his lips on my skin, his whispered words. I shouldn’t be afraid. Not like this. I was an Auror. I was independent and strong.

But hell, I was breaking. Fast and hard.

Draco knocked on the balcony door, drawing my attention. I looked to him, hopeless and terrified. He offered his hand, an invitation, a call. I rose, my resolve fading as I ran into his arms, breaking down in tears. His arms wrapped around me, cradling me to his chest. I frantically grasped at his white button up, trying to ground myself.

Draco gently tugged me to the floor, still cradling me in his arms.

“I—I’m sorry,” I cried out. “I... he... I thought I...”

He shushed me softly and rubbed my back softly. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” 

“I didn’t mean it,” I gasped out through tears. 

“I know,” His tone was somber.

But though the night dragged relentlessly, it was not the worst night of my life. I took comfort from that. And I was not alone. There was a great deal of comfort in that, too.

My hindsight seemed unbearably clear tonight. I could see every mistake I’d made, every bit of harm I’d done, the small things and the big things. Each pain I’d caused Draco, each wound I’d given myself, stacked up into neat piles that I could not ignore or deny.

And I realized that I’d been wrong all along about wanting to be alone. It had not been Draco and I that I’d been trying to force apart, it was the two parts of myself, the one who craved a companion and the one who was independent and free. But they didn’t know how to exist together, and I should have tried harder to figure it out.

I’d done so much damage.

Draco said little; he just held me on the floor and let me ruin his shirt, staining it with saltwater. At some point a blanket was draped around my shoulders and I was too miserable to figure out where it came from.

It took longer than I thought it would for that smaller, broken part of me to cry herself out. It happened, though, and I was eventually exhausted enough to sleep. While I slept, I felt warm, protected, comforted. I didn’t feel alone.

In the morning, I saw the reason why. It was one of the reasons that had me terrified in the beginning of this entire case:

There was only one bed.

And I wasn’t alone.

Epilogue:

“I did apologize right?” I asked again sheepishly.

“And I told you, you have nothing to apologize for,” Draco smiled. “It’s what friends are for Y/n,”

I smiled at the word. Friends. It was the solution to my dilemma. The part of myself that craved a companion but satisfied the girl with dreams and freedom. It was in front of me the entire time. I wished I had realized sooner, and maybe this weekend would have been different, but friends... more than friends, whatever we were or weren’t, Draco had decided to stand by me regardless, and I was grateful.

“Y/l/n, Malfoy, how was Paris?” Harry asked offhandedly as we reported to him Monday morning.

What I wasn’t expecting however, was Draco grabbing Harry’s collar and decking him.

I covered my mouth, trying to conceal a laugh but failed miserably.

“What the hell Malfoy?” Harry sputtered, holding his bleeding nose.

“You wanna know who was dealing those illegal potions?” Malfoy snarled. “Her ex. And you sent her into this weekend blind,”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock as he stammered out apologies.

I rolled my eyes and left the office, a warm smile on my face. Draco walked beside me.

“You didn’t have to do that you know,” I muttered. “Is your hand alright?”

“I know how to throw a punch and not injure myself,” Draco rolled his eyes at me. “And I’ll take any chance I can get to punch Potter in the face,”

I laughed as we apparated to Paris for lunch.

.

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[headtothecoast]

hogwarts!geraskier au

geralt is a hufflepuff and jaskier is a slytherin if you think otherwise be prepared to catch these hands.  and maybe a lute.

geralt's appearance is very much meant to intimidate and jaskier's is meant to sooth.  however, the sorting hat doesn't care about that.  it cares about intent. jaskier intends to get famous.  geralt intends to help people.

so picture this,

muggleborn jaskier who realizes he can literally enchant people with his music and wants to become famous.  pureblood geralt whose father vesemir separated from their family when he was younger but takes in children that are unwanted in some way, be it birth/magic/social status.

the two meet on the train.  geralt is sitting alone in a cabin and he's quiet and angry as a kid because his family didn't want him and his brothers are off somewhere having fun but he isn't sure he wants to go to hogwarts because he would much rather be at home with roach.  he was scared he wouldn't be good at this whole magic thing, eskel had told him that's why his parents didn't want him so he may as well show up, not get put in a house, and take the train home back to roach.  that's the plan anyways.

at least until he hears a commotion in the hallway of the train and sees two 3rd years holding a 1st year with wants pointed at him and wicked smiles on their faces and it doesn't matter that geralt's never cast a spell he's seen eskel and lambert practice movements and vesemir perform this one often enough around especially vindictive parents that geralt casts such a strong protego he sends the 3rd years flying and the small 1st year is staring at him with the largest eyes he's ever seen and a split lip.

geralt intends to just walk away because the 3rd years don't look like they're coming back and geralt honestly can't believe it worked except the other 1st year sticks his hand out and introduces himself as jaskier the famous musician!  and thanks geralt for helping him and well no he didn't exactly have it under control and my goodness what year are you in because none of the older kids really wanted to help me the sods but you're much nicer than them aren't you and i don't really know how i keep getting myself into those sorts of messes and what magic did you just perform there?  i've never done magic before! didn't know it existed until my parents got a letter and they were more surprised than me i guess by golly you are tall mr. oh my goodness i am so sorry i didn't ask your name, what is your name?

and geralt has a headache as well as a better understanding for why those 3rd years wanted this kid out of their cabin but also it's less lonely in his cabin now that jaskier is sitting next to him jabbering away and fidgeting a little because of the silence and geralt almost forgets he was asked a question but tells jaskier his name and is rewarded with more conversation and praise and if jaskier rubs his wrists where the other kids had grabbed him then geralt ignores it and definitely doesn't hand him a chocolate frog when the trolley comes around and smile a little when jaskier's eyes nearly burst from his head when the frog leaps right out of the box and into his hand.  and then jaskier's sad because he doesn't want to kill the frog and geraaalt isn't that mean, to eat a real frog and geralt doesn't even get to weigh in that it's a fake one before the prefects walk around and remind everyone to change into their robes.

so geralt and jaskier are sitting again except jaskier keeps going on about his robes and then looks speculatively at geralt and asks if he knows anything about hogwarts.  geralt says he has older brothers and sisters that have attended and have been sorted into every house.  when jaskier asks him about the house system geralt tells him everything his brothers had told him, albeit haltingly. gryffindor is for the brave, slytherin for the clever, ravenclaw for the smart and hufflepuff for the loyal.  jaskier asks how the hat determines which one you are and geralt says it reads your mind, talks to you sort of, asks you what you want in life.  jaskier says he wants to be a musician and asks geralt what he wants.  geralt says he wants roach.  jaskier laughs and geralt prepares to be made fun of but jaskier says that's a wild name and asks what roach is and that it's so cool geralt has a horse or a foal because she's so little and goes off for a little bit before seeing the castle in the distance and sobering long enough to ask geralt if he thinks there's a bad house to get put in because he heard one of the older kids talking about slytherins.

geralt thinks for a moment because his brothers and sisters had been in every house.  there were slytherins, gryffindors, ravenclaws, and hufflepuffs all over kaher morhen during the holidays, so many he was sure they could hold class on the estate and hogwarts need not open its doors.  he knows that gryffindors are usually loud and boisterous, that ravenclaws are dedicated and single-minded, that slytherins always have a goal, and that hufflepuffs can always be found next to one of them.  he tells jaskier that none of the houses are bad, that each one is different and that whichever one jaskier gets put in would be lucky to have him.  slytherin just means you know what you want and you're determined more than anything to do it.

and suddenly geralt has his arms full of jaskier who is laughing and thanking him and telling him that he hopes they're in the same house because who wouldn't want to be in the same house as their very best friend.

geralt's eyes go wide because except for his siblings, who don't count, he hasn't ever had a friend.  and maybe from the look on jaskier's face of wide eyes and an unsure smile he thinks neither has he.  so geralt just nods and says even if they're not in the same house, siblings get put in different places all the time so it's not like they wouldn't see each other.

and suddenly they're standing in a hall with long tables and high ceilings and a short stool in the middle of stone floors while the headmistress explains some updates that geralt and jaskier are too nervous to hear but then the sorting hat sings a song about unity and trust and geralt elbows jaskier as if to say i told you so and suddenly he's sitting on the stool and talking to a hat.

another rivia.  how interesting.  you remind me of your father.  geralt sits up straighter at that.  the one thing vesemir had always refused to tell them was his own hogwarts house.  he didn't want to admit to favorites.  yes i can see that you would like that, or that you think you would like to be like your adoptive father.  interesting.  and yet the boy you met on the train earlier - jaskier, now there's a talkative kid if you've ever met one.  and geralt remains mostly silent while the hat deliberates, he doesn't know if he gets to say anything or weigh in on the decision.  of course you get a say.  what house do you prefer?  and geralt draws a blank.  he doesn't know.  supposes he doesn't care but that's not right he does care he just, never saw himself getting this far really.  expected he'd be back home with roach by now and not actually having to pick a house.  so geralt asks the hat which one is your favorite and the hat is surprised.  geralt thinks its laughing on his head and then so much like vesemir before the hat shouts HUFFLEPUFF

and there's clapping when he steps down from the stool and he goes to sit at the table except jaskier hugs him and is smiling and geralt smiles back and says good luck and then he's sitting by kids dressed in yellow and waiting for his friend to sit beneath a hat.

ah.  a muggleborn.  jaskier.  geralt's friend.  you have an interesting mind.  though i'm sure you know that.  surprised you aren't talking my flaps off right now actually given how much i saw you talk in geralt's head.  ah well.  let's see.  you want to be a musician correct?  at the question jaskier startles and peeps a yes, because the hat didn't sound like it was saying things outloud but just in his head and it was a strange feeling and jaskier wanted to ask geralt what the hat said to him except the hat asked him something else which he didn't quite catch but he heard the laughter and then - yes your thoughts are so fast it's hard to keep pace, and i can read minds.  well, given their speed and determination i guess we'll go with SLYTHERIN - the hat shouts and then jaskier is being wisked off to a sea of green.

and when the headmistress looks out over the tables and finishes her welcoming speech she claps her hands and says alright now off with you, arranged seating is only for the sorting ceremony, sit where you like

and geralt barely gets out an oomf before jaskier slams into him talking a mile a minute and geralt just smiles to himself and listens.

*sorry, these are always longer than i mean them to be.  they’re too long to feel like a headcannon and too short to be considered a fic.  

**not sure how/when to add yennifer sorry, maybe she’s a year above them and no one can figure out which house she’s in since she stole an outfit of each color because i wouldn’t put it past her

[kaypeace21]

do you think it’s possible sarah (hoppers daughter) was an early-formed alter that went dormant before the events of season one? it’d make a lot of sense with how much of hoppers arc in season one was him mourning her and channeling that grief into protecting will (which would make sense since he seems like a protecter to both will and el). love your posts!☺️

Yep . :D

I already discussed all of this in the original did post - how sarah was a “little” (kid ) alter. And how hopper was a protector /introject alter. I also discussed her going dormant as a major possibility in my did theory. My assumption is she either (a) “became dormant” like some alters do- aka they are “gone” sometimes for many years but can return . And this can happen in a myriad of ways - sometimes alters go dormant after they had a simulated death in the inner world . theoretically sarah had such a Death. And so did El. Death isn’t really a permanent thing for alters ...they usually will come back or stay dormant - unless the body of the host dies (or they integrate) . They can’t really die . I think it’s very possible she comes back and Hopper while exploring the various innerworlds of Will’s minds (like the Russian one, the memory scapes , etc ) reunites/ finds her . look at the st s4 movie inspirations. In ‘what dreams may come”  a guy with the guidance of his dead kid explore a heaven like world influenced by a painter’s emotions.We also have the movie ‘inside out’ -which involves “memory islands” (distinct worlds based on a child’s memories) which are influenced negatively by the kid being depressed she moved to California. The characters traveling to these memory islands are constructs of  kid’s mind -and 1 of them also has a guide helping them explore the ‘memory islands’. in  Inception a guy says he’s a construct of a guy’s mind and needs to help him escape the many different Ievels of the dream worlds.The in inception who made the worlds- had dad issues. 'the cell’also had alternate dimensions of a man's mind that a cop explored ( the dimensions were created by a man who was ab*sed by his dad). Movies like inception, matrix, Truman show, total recall, the cell, enter the void, wizard of oz, Peter Pan, hellraiser 2, dream warriors, bill & ted’s bogus journey, and welcome to marwen  also allude to this: because they involve entering simulated abstract worlds usually created/based on happy& traumatic memories/fears.Cough s4 using the movie wizard of oz quote “we’re not in Hawkins (kansas) anymore.While truman show/matrix are more about realizing your reality isn’t real.in bladerunner 2044/total recall it has the theme of false implanted memories… probably relating to hopper realizing he’s an alter and not in “actual Russia.” Before seeing the other segments of the innerworlds with sarah. Like in total recall- the bad ass spy is told all his memories: his wife/ years of marriage,  , his name, are just implanted memories. And she says “you’re life is a dream.” 

In s2 Nancy asks Steve how his “grandpa’s time in the war is a metaphor for your life?” And steve compares the mf to the germans in the war. Dr owens mentions Will has ptsd like “ (vietnam) soldiers’, Hopper saying he had buddies like Will . “In the 70s there was a study that compared the post-traumatic stress symptoms in Vietnam veterans and adult survivors of childhood s**ual ab*se. The study revealed that childhood s**ual ab*se is traumatizing and can result in symptoms comparable to symptoms from war-related trauma.” Hopper isn’t actually in Russia -but in one of the innerworlds (after he jumped through the rift of the machine- into Will’s mind). We’ll see flashbacks but also present circumstances of his imprisonment echo Will’s past with Lonnie (if the movies indicate anything)- being starved, guards getting payed in order to let other prisoners  r*pe a gay prisoner (than claim incorrectly because of his sexuality he wanted it) , as well as a gang of sadist men who r**e others and a warden using that as a threat to be compliant , being thrown in a dark room of solitary confinement and starved when they didn’t obey the warden, the warden being religious, etc. And the Anerican soldiers (in Vietnam) in the movies aren’t much better and do similarly horrific acts to civilians like r**e and bragging/ happily k*lling women, children, and the elderly. The drill sergant in vietnam calling them homophobic slurs & women, and chocking one of the soldiers with one hand, slapping one for not believing in christianity. Tying up a soldier in a bed , gagging him, beating him and saying “remember it’s just a dream.” Only praising them when good in fire arms.(movies : fullmetal jacket, papillon, shawshank redemption, platoon, welcome to marwen, etc ) . My assumption is  flashbacks of his life- will hint he’s an alter of Will’s-the boxes in the basement are “vietnam” ,“dad”, and “ny” (and these are the memories of his we’ll see). And some of the bad characters in said stories will also parallel Lonnie . For instance in s2, Jonathan mentions Indiana writer Vonnegut- In his book ‘slaughterhouse 5′- Vonnegut begins the story of Billy Pilgrim, a man who has “come unstuck in time”. It accounts of Billy Pilgrim's capture and incarceration by the Germans during the last years of World War II, and scattered throughout the narrative are episodes from Billy's life with his dad, and his own wife and kids.Billy is forced to be part of the war and similar things against his free will. The moments start from his childhood when his father throws him in the water to teach him how to swim. He was unwillingly drafted into the war. Later, he is kidnapped by Tralfamadorians  (aliens that are implied to be caused by his mental health issues/trauma) against his will. Therefore, he realizes that this concept is just an illusion.

  And some of the bad characters in said stories will also parallel Lonnie . Like how in ‘peterpan’- the young girl Wendy imagines netherland and the villain -captain hook- is based off her father ( in the movie they have the same voice actors/while in all stage productions the 2 characters are always played by the same actor). Similar to the other s4 film- ‘wizard of oz’ where the wicked witch of th west from the mythical land of Oz (is played by Dorothy’s real life mean neighbor in the real world/kansas). Or ‘in the cell’- every villain from the alternate-mind- dimensions is played by same actor in diff makeup. Not sure if they’d use Ross Patridge (actor of Lonnie) in this way . But it would be very interesting if (In makeup) Ross played many negative people in Hopper’s life/past -as a way to show Will’s past tr*uma.

Like also-look at Sarah’s tiger plushie! In chinese mythology/culture: “The tiger is personified by the constellation Orion (interesting given Sara’s interest in space/blackholes). The tiger represents protection over human life (hmm?). Tiger charms were used to keep away evil and disease (that’s awful ironic if she died in the manner she did). In Buddhism, wearing tiger skins during meditations was believed to bring protection from spiritual interference and potential harm while exploring astral dimensions.” HMMMMMMMMM  XD

Kali in the stranger things novel ‘Suspicious Minds’ says…

“I was named after a goddess. She wore a tiger skin and was fierce in battle.”

Then Kali says to Alice (a women who can see future visions): “I love you, Alice. We can be tigers together.”This parallel (in relation to Alice) is fascinating because Kali actually uses her powers to fake Alice’s death- and to trick Dr. Brenner, and allow Alice to escape. The allusion was so realistic, that Terry could even touch the ‘dead’ Alice.

So the tiger symbolism could be a HUGE hint- that Sarah’s death was simulated and she’ll come back and travel the innerworlds/alternate dimensions of Will’s mind (as Hopper’s guide). Hopper about sarah “galaxies the universe-she always understood that stuff.”

Another possibility (theory b) is she integrated with another alter or with Will (which means she can’t return) .Hopper saying about Sarah “the black hole it got her.” Could imply she integrated with the mf/shadow monster? And ,or maybe she will later ?

But... I lean heavily to theory (a) the most , though.

Obviously sarah has a lot of the connections to Will. will and Sarah both being into science, Sarah winning a spelling bee, Will winning the science fair, both being connected to tigers. Both hallucinating something no one else can see and people trying to snap the 2 out of what they’re viewing. Joyce saying as a witch she’ll eat Will. Parallels Hopper saying as an ogre he’ll eat sarah. Hopper, in s1, when seeing Will (with a vine in his mouth) has a flashback of Sarah on a mouth respirator. And he also has a flashback of Sarah when seeing Will’s lion plushie which resembled Sarah’s tiger plushie. And el also had a lion plushie-like Will’s in s1. Hopper monitored both Will and Sarah at the hospital when they were “dying”. Will has a fear of clowns- and Sarah’s hospital gown had clowns on them. All 3 kids draw.

Plus, we all know the parallels of Will to El (Hopper’s new daughter).

I discussed in my did theory that Hopper (as an adult alter) is a form of protector to all the kid alters - el, Sarah, and Will (host/core). And Hopper as an introject-alter (who are alters based on a person the child knows ) are usually put in the system cause the kid assumes that person could protect them . And since original-Hopper was a police man (a little kid could easily assume that). Although, because he’s a “father figure” for the system he has some of Lonnie’s traits- which are reflected in other perpetrator alters/ bad npcs in the system- Brenner, Neil, Billy, the evil’s Russians,etc . So sometimes he acts similar to a Perpetrator alter too . And I listed those examples/bad parallels extensively in the original did post (linked in the beginning).

And I used these quotes from psych papers in my original did post to pretty much sum up Hopper’s use in Will’s system .

“Introjects can also be based off of  figures that the dissociative child found strong, courageous, heroic, or otherwise worthy of being emulated and internalized and could theoretically protect them.”

“Older adult alters are created to serve a nurturing or parenting role, thus serving as a protector. (*protecting Will/el) . However, sometimes their older age is related to taking on the identification of the ab*ser and can therefore take on any of the other more hostile roles too ... Introjects which are mimicking ab*sers are trying to "keep you inline" in order to protect you from external ab*sers. They are copying behaviors shown to them by bad people, not harboring the intent, s*dism or imm*rality of the actual perpetrators.”

I think it pretty much sums up the nuances and motivations of Hopper’s character.

Thanks for the ask, anon :)

[moecartoons]

Day 4 - OCs and I’m only thirty minutes late!

Meet Chip (they/them|23) and CV (she/her|11).

Chip is a borg from Happily Ever After. They live alone in a cottage in the middle of the Enchanted Forest just outside of the main kingdom. They spend their time helping whoever may need it, rescuing damsels in distress, helping heroes find their way, and fixing fairytale creatures’ fallen homes. When they met the Cybersquad, they were more than willing to aid in a quest for Motherboard.

The children and Digit were grateful for Chip, who may have been one the most helpful residents of Cyberspace they’d ever ran into. Akin to Lucky or Slider, Chip became an honorary member of the team. However, with as close as they become to others, there’s obviously a past they’re hiding. No one in Happily Ever After seems to know who exactly Chip is nor where they came from. The Trio believe Chip is a prince, due to their mannerisms and attire, however dirty and patched up it may be.

Chip denies everything easily.

They keep any and all pain to themselves, especially from the children. They never cry, never express sorrow nor pain. Almost like a supernatural ability, when their body is torn or cut, it can repair itself. The process and of course initial injury is incredibly painful and tiring.

Chip’s biggest weaknesses are their right hand, their exposed knee joints, their poor memory, and, quite frankly, their lack of skill. Though they carry a sword and know the basics of wielding it, it’s obvious their adventures have been won through heart and luck alone.

Extra Facts: Hacker is the only one who seems to know about Chip’s past and constantly mocks them for it. Chip is an excellent storyteller and lorekeeper if their memory’s on their side. They frequently break out into a song as if their life is a musical. Chip can play dumb hilariously well and uses their seemingly naive and polite nature to their advantage. They also seem to have a thing for Wicked, sharing a flirty albeit dangerous relationship with her.

CV, full name Control Copy and Paste.(Ctrl+C+V) is a borg from Discardia, the Cybersite of trash. She lives with her brother Talos after the two were abandoned by their parents on the site. Her brother is wheel-chair bound from birth. Sadly, he also has, to put it in Earthly terms, deteriorating lungs. He does his best to still provide for CV while also having one foot in a grave.

Desperate to help her brother, CV searches for a job. Unfortunately, the stigma around her being from Discardia prevents her from finding one. Those who have been left on such a cybersite are seen as truly unwanted and useless. Having no one else to turn to, CV takes up the Hacker’s offer almost immediately.

Her job is simple. To distract the Cybersquad. It’s a perfect job for her. CV is able to shapeshift, altering her appearance through the use of holograms created by her antennae. This combined with her naturally energetic and theatrical personality, she makes an amazing fake villain.

Several things go wrong, however. Firstly, she falls in love almost immediately with Jackie of the Cybersquad. Secondly, her tricks quickly go too far and she has to wrestle with the inner turmoil of causing such absolute misery to the Good Guys that one of them, Matthew, actually attacks her. The need for snelfus, however, is something she can’t resist. No matter what the Cybersquad promise, they can’t convince her that they can help her after finding out her predicament.

Unfortunately, CV does have an end. Hacker’s need for her to distract stems from him building a machine to create a portal to the Real World that can take him and the Grim Wreaker. As everything looks bleak, with the portal open, the squad captured and CV finally given payment, she finally puts an end to the havoc.

CV breaks the machine by allowing it to overload her circuits, causing her antennae to shatter. Where she’s knocked out cold or dies from surge of electricity doesn’t matter, she falls into the portal and it collapses into itself. The squad try to take the briefcase full of snelfus to her brother only to find the Hacker left nothing napkins in it for her.

... BUT that’s what AUs are for so CV runs around being a jerk and trying to learn to be a friend with the Cybersquad, lmao.

Extra Facts: Coop has met CV during his time on Discardia. He didn’t allow her close to him given his condition at the time. Later, if CV survives, she and her brother Talos go to live with him and his son, Slider. Cv’s long hair is due to her wanting to stay pretty for her mother when she returns for them. Eventually she realizes this will never happen and frees herself by cutting her hair.

There is honestly a lot I could talk about and share about these two but I’ve been writing this for an hour now and my shoulder hurts more than when I was drawing!!! XD Hope you guys like em, truly <3

Oh, here’s their like card things. Haha

[venmomejoy]

Convince Me- pt. 1

Summary: When Aelin Ashryver-Galathynius, lead singer of Bitch Queen, gets in a twitter fight with Rowan Whitethorn, drummer of The Cadre, everyone is buzzing about their hatred for each other. When their PR teams decide they need to fake a friendship to keep up a good public image, the two are vehemently against it. But slowly, a fake friendship turns into a real connection, maybe something more. 

read it on AO3 here :) and here’s the link to part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven / part twelve / part thirteen

Most celebrities rattled on about how they hated fame, hated all the attention, but Aelin knew that was a load. Sure, there were aspects of fame that could be frustrating, but not one of them would trade their careers for a chance to go to the grocery store unnoticed.

She wouldn't, that's for sure. Aelin had worked her ass off for her career, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she was proud of her success. Bitch Queen had started from nothing, and now they had a top-charting album with two number one singles. She reveled every time a fan stopped her in the street, every time someone asked to take a photo with her, because she had worked for every ounce of fame she had, and they had finally made it.

Aelin hadn't even planned on being in a band. She'd always been a good singer, a raw talent her parents had fostered from her childhood, but she'd never intended on doing anything with it. But when her best friend started learning the guitar she begged Aelin to do some duets with her, and Lysandra was a tough person to deny. So they would mess around with different arrangements, would butcher their favorite songs, until one day, it sounded good. Really good.

They started practicing more seriously then, and by their senior year of high school, they had really honed their skills. Lysandra's fingers danced along the strings with ease, rarely making a mistake, and Aelin had enrolled in singing lessons to refine her ability. She even tried her hand at songwriting, and after a year of failed attempts, finally produced something passable.

They roomed together in college, Aelin majoring in Business, as she planned on following in her mother's footsteps and running Ashryver Inc., while Lysandra chose psychology, since she intended on going into social work. They spent any free moment composing and playing and videoing their songs, but they still hadn't decided to do anything with their newfound skills. But somehow, everything fell into place.

Aelin found their keyboard player when she bumped into a childhood friend on campus. She hadn't seen Elide since elementary school, when she had moved to New York to live with her uncle after her mother's death, but college had brought her back to California, and Aelin was eager to rekindle their friendship. The girls became close quickly, old bonds quickly reinstated, and when she told Elide about her and Lysandra's little duo, Elide told her that she was currently enrolled in the school's music program, and had been training on the keys for years. Aelin insisted she play with them, just for fun, but Elide was hesitant- she had grown very shy in their years apart. Elide eventually agreed, but only if she could invite her roommate, Manon, who played the drums.

Aelin easily agreed. She was happy to find one new person to play with, not to mention two.

The next afternoon, Elide let them into the music hall, taking them to one of the many rehearsal rooms in the building. Inside, a silver-haired girl was adjusting the height of her drummer's throne, flashing them an assessing glare as they entered. Lysandra immediately darted towards the rack of guitars on the wall, running her hands over the glossy wood in wonder. But Aelin didn't have any fancy instruments to fawn over- mics were mics- so she scanned the area, taking in the sheer amount of instruments in that one room. She didn't know what kind of funding this school had, if every rehearsal room was stocked like this.

Manon stalked over to them, using her height to her advantage as she stared down at Aelin. She could see why people thought Manon was intimidating, with her blood-red lips that curled into a smirk and her metallic painted nails, so long they were basically claws. Aelin just looked up at Manon, a slow smile spreading across her face as she extended her hand. "Aelin Ashryver-Galathynius." Aelin respected the effort at intimidation, but hoped Manon didn't think she would be able to cow her. Aelin actually really wanted to be her friend- she loved a girl who would get shit done- but she had too much self-respect, and maybe too much pride, to let herself get steamrolled by this girl.

Manon raised an eyebrow at Aelin's gall, her smirk turning into a proper smile. She probably wasn't used to meeting her match, but she didn't seem unhappy about it. "Manon Blackbeak," she said, grasping Aelin's hand firmly. "Elide said you sing?"

"Yeah, and my roommate Lysandra," she pointed at Lys, "plays guitar."

Flipping her silver hair over her shoulder with a curt nod, Manon said, "Well, let's get started. No point wasting more time than we need too."

Aelin frowned at her pessimism, but they all got into position, Lysandra widening her eyes dramatically at her roommate when the other's backs were turned. They all toyed with their instruments, tuning them while Aelin warmed up her voice, before deciding on a song they all knew. The first couple tries were rough, but eventually they got a feel for each other's style and techniques and the song really came together. It was far from perfect, but it had potential.

Surprisingly enough, it was Manon who suggested they start practicing seriously, as a band. The girls had been shocked at the suggestion, but quickly agreed. What did they have to lose? Maybe something would come of it, but even if nothing did, they all loved music, so there was no time and energy wasted. They compared schedules and found a time they could meet every day.

They started with covers, getting the hang of playing together and making their sounds blend seamlessly, before moving on to original tracks. Lysandra and Aelin started looking into gigs, and when it came time for them to pick a name, Aelin had the perfect one. Bitch Queen, the nickname given to her courtesy of her entire high school student body; she had loved it then and she loved it now. The girls loved it too.

They played gigs all throughout college, becoming regulars at small venues, even scoring Friday night spots at a couple bars and clubs. When someone posted a video of their set on YouTube, everything went nuts, and suddenly they had offers from twenty different labels. Everything after that was a blur: signing the contract with Terrasen Records, dropping their first singles, writing their first album, recording their music videos. In just over a year, they had become one of the biggest names in indie rock.

It was while they were recording at the studio that they met the men of The Cadre. Their lead singer, Fenrys, had popped his golden head into their recording room in the middle of a set, scaring the living shit out of Lysandra and ruining the take, but he just laughed and said, "The boss told us the label was getting a new group, but didn't expect them all to be so pretty," with an exaggerated wink. They all just rolled their eyes and laughed at his come-on, except for Manon, who snarled at him. Fenrys had the good sense to look nervous at that, but he quickly recovered, sticking his hand out to all of them. "I'm Fenrys, lead singer in The Cadre. These are the guys," he said, gesturing behind him to where three other men had slipped into the room, looking much more uncomfortable than their friend. Aelin's eyes scanned the guys, thoroughly impressed by the sheer size of them. They had to be the most muscular men she had ever seen, and all unfairly attractive.

"This is Gavriel, our guitarist," Fenrys said, gesturing to the other blond in the group, who flashed them all a small smile.

"Next to him is our bassist, Lorcan." Lorcan's long black hair shone as he pulled it up into a ponytail, barely sparing them a glance before turning away. Aelin smiled to herself when his eyes shot back up and went straight to Elide, but the moment only lasted a few seconds before Lorcan schooled his features and dropped his gaze.

Chuckling to herself, her eyes caught on the white-haired man towards the back, his toned arms crossed over his chest. "Lastly, we have Rowan Whitethorn, our drummer." He had a wicked tattoo stretching down the side of his face and onto his torso, judging by the way it disappeared into his turtleneck. When she dragged her eyes back up to his face, she found his eyes already on her, though he didn't seem to be appreciating the view the way she was. No, he was sneering at her, looking at her like she was the dirt on the bottom of his shoes. Aelin blinked at him, as much surprise as she would show, before drawing her eyebrows in and fixing him with a glare of her own. She had just met the man. How could he already hate her? Aelin snapped her gaze away from him, briefly introducing her friends to the men.

The two bands ended up spending a lot of time together, since both groups happened to be in the recording process at the same time. Aelin and Fenrys became fast friends- their personalities were too similar for them not to get along. But they weren't the only one's getting close. Anytime the bands met up or had lunch together, Elide and Lorcan always wound up next to each other, practically ignoring everyone else as they listened to each other in rapt attention. No one was surprised when the two announced they were dating later that month; everyone had seen that one coming from a mile away. The girls were thrilled for their friend- even though Lorcan was a raging bastard to all of them, he seemed really good to Elide. And both Manon and Aelin didn't refrain from detailing exactly what they would do to him if he hurt her. He only gave them an unimpressed look.

Aelin managed to become decent friends with Gavriel, his soft-spoken demeanor giving into wicked humor once he got comfortable. She tried, several times, to speak to Rowan, but every single time he met her friendliness with hostility, barking insults at her that hurt more than she was willing to admit. She hurled insults of her own in response, but after a while, she gave up trying to get Rowan to warm up to her. Whatever she had done to make him hate her, there was obviously no way for her to undo it, so she decided to just leave it be.

They all kept in touch after they finished recording, attending the same events and even going out to dinner together. Bitch Queen's album was a smash hit, and The Cadre's third album was pretty popular as well. They met up for congratulatory drinks after both albums had dropped, toasting to new music and new friends.  

Now, Bitch Queen was prepping to go on tour in two months, and Aelin was lying if she said she wasn't freaking out. Playing their little shows when they were unknown was one thing, but an entire tour of sold out venues? She knew they were good, was confident in the songs she had written and in her own vocal ability, but she just didn't want to let anyone down.

Aelin couldn't help that she channeled her nervousness into aggression. And it was Rowan's fault for tweeting that shit, anyway.

She had tweeted a picture of their tour dates with the caption: "20 shows!! I'm crazy nervous but crazy excited to see you all!!"

To which Rowan replied: "we've got 35 shows, and I'm not nervous at all."

It wasn't really that big of a deal, but it made Aelin's blood boil. Was he insinuating that she was less professional than him because she was nervous? For her first tour ever? And of course The Cadre had more shows than them, this was their third studio album, they already have a fanbase. What was Bitch Queen supposed to do, become The Strokes after their first single?

Aelin couldn't help herself: "Maybe if you played anything difficult, you would be. Manon could play your parts in her sleep."

The response came in minutes: "No, experience just makes you more composed. Maybe you'd know if you had some."

She was seething. Was he calling her an amateur?: "I think nerves make me a better performer; it means I care about the quality of the show I give my fans. I won't disappoint them because of my own arrogance."

Rowan replied: "Fans? What fans? Your 8,000 streams on Spotify?"

Aelin was going to murder him: "Try 800,000. If I recall correctly, your band's debut album didn't do near as good as ours. Watch yourself."

Rowan: "Ooh, you've really scared me now."

Aelin's phone rang before she could finish her response, her PR manager interrupting her tirade. She tried to cool her anger before she answered the phone, but she still snapped, "What?" into the receiver.

"Aelin! What the hell are you doing?"

"Hey, don't look at me, Rowan started this. I'm just defending myself."

"Well, stop. Christ, Aelin, Twitter's having a field day with this. You and Rowan are going to be the main story in every tabloid by tomorrow morning. Everyone's talking about your hatred for one another."

"Whatever, it doesn't matter."

"It does matter, Aelin. This not only makes you look trashy, which is especially bad for an up-and-coming band like yours, it also reflects poorly on the label to have two of its artists fighting on a public domain."

Aelin deflated. She didn't even think of it like that. "Okay, what do we do?"

"You don't do anything. I'm emailing with The Cadre's PR manager right now. We're going to have to meet in person to work out the logistics, but you and Rowan are going to have to make everyone think you're friends."

"What?" She and Rowan have not had one pleasant interaction. She doubts anyone would buy that they were friends.

"You can't take back what you've already said, so we're going to have to twist it like you two were joking around. But we can't stop there, people will think its just a ploy."

"Which it is."

"Yes, but they don't need to know that. So we're going to have to sell that you two have been really close friends ever since you started working at Terrasen Labels. That means hanging out one-on-one in public, posting photos together on social media, doing whatever you have to do to make this believable." She sighed. "Look, I'll update you tomorrow on what the plan is, but for now, just stay quiet, okay? No more social media posts."

Alien could practically hear her rubbing her temples through the phone. "Got it. For what it’s worth, I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep," she said before hanging up the phone.

Aelin tried to sleep, but she couldn't stop thinking about how they were going to pull this off. Rowan was a prick; there was no way she convincingly act like she enjoys spending time with him. She wouldn't be surprised if he outright refused the plan their PR teams had created, what with his egotism. Stardom really went to his head.

Aelin imagined going out to get coffee with Rowan Whitethorn for all of one second before she smashed her pillow on top of her face and turned her brain off for the night. She would deal with all of this in the morning.

notes: ahhh I'm actually really excited for this fic, so I hope you guys have some interest in it!! let me know what you think or if you would like to be tagged!

[thecottageinthedark]

Sorting Glass-Maker’s Dragon

I’ve been working on this for a looooong time, and finally it’s complete enough to post. I’m using the Sorting Hat Chats system, basics of which are explained here by its inventors and here by @wisteria-lodge.

A lot of GMD is flexpoints and inferred stuff, but this is, at least, the way I read the main eight.

Chuubo: Snake Primary, Badger Secondary. His Snake ambition isn't immediately obvious because it's backwards to us; he's an Imperator and a god of dream and probably the Spirit of the Age, but those were just things that happened upon him. He doesn't want fame or fortune; he wants a peaceful human life, or at least a human-style one, and his drive to achieve this has literally reshaped the world itself while still being, at its core, all about him.

His Badger Secondary is hard to see because of the one big gimmick in the way; the Wish-Granting Engine, that supposedly allows instant results with no work, and the way he uses it whenever possible. But the thing is, the WGE is both dependent on his Secondary and in some senses what he uses when he can't draw on that Secondary itself.

Badger Secondaries have to mean what they do; they put in hard work when and where they are motivated to do so. For Chuubo, that's not schoolwork, which is where he as a high schooler is socially expected to, and so he gets a rep for being lazy. Where he does put the effort in, is with his friendships, and in 'learning the ways of Fortitude'. With those, he doesn't cut corners. He doesn't pull out schemes. He patiently and consistently puts in the work. His Secondary is on full display in the way he persists in trying to be friends with Leo, even in the face of Leo's hostility. Chuubo doesn't try to win Leo over with subtlety or with grand gestures; he just doggedly carries on offering support, company, and good-natured teasing.

So where does the Engine come in? Think of the Wishing Map. It's the friendships and connections he's worked at creating and maintaining that help Chuubo's wishes to succeed. Wishes based on whim are almost certain to go wrong.

The wish for a best friend is maybe the most telling part of all. Or rather, what happened after it. Because despite having acquired Seizhi through unnatural means, it never once occurs to Chuubo to continue their association by those-to lean on miraculous or mundane coercion and create a relationship that all goes one way. Having acquired someone to love him, he just proceeds to love them back, with a generosity of spirit that is entirely genuine.

Like a lot of Snake Primaries, Chuubo has a Primary model that he uses to fill in the gaps where his ambitions and his loyalties aren't relevant. His is a kindly and expansive Badger Primary. He lives in this model most of the time-until there's a threat to his inner circle or to his hard-won quiet life. Then he'll set the model aside and act from his real Primary to keep hold of what's his. (Being a snake sometimes helps.)

Seizhi Schwan: Snake Primary, Burnt Snake Secondary. Like Chuubo, their huge ambition is for something that most people just get handed on a platter; to be real, to matter, and to be loved. Their Primary and his instinctively understand each other about this-and also understand each other perfectly about the importance of treasuring and being treasured. (They're all but making big eyes at each other and swooning, in fact.)

Seizhi's Primary is somewhat wobbly in one regard; they're the sort of Snake who has kicked themself out of their own inner circle. After all, they reason, they're not real-not yet, at least-so why should they value themself? There's nothing there to value. This is linked to the burning of their Secondary; their supreme and miraculously-enhanced ability to fit into any social context is something that gives them pain, because it's just more unreality. Over and over they reach out, hoping that this time they've found a destiny; over and over, they stop sustaining an Intention, and the whole thing fades away. Even mundane uses of the Snake Secondary toolkit feel tainted-deceit and lies-and that's a problem, because this is the best and most practiced skillset they've got. They're trying to cover up this lack with a Badger Secondary model, because that's what they feel like they should have, what a Real Person would have-the slow grinding authenticity of method. (Possibly this decision is linked to Chuubo being a Badger Secondary.) But they don't like it. It feels like crap. It doesn't even work that well. And when they're in trouble, they drop the attempt to  Do Things The Real Way and start shifting and adapting and reacting like the Snake they are.

As of the start of GMD they're still hoping for the magic to happen, to wake up transformed into a Real Person who bears little to no resemblance to the 'fake self' they despise-for the Badger model to smother the Snake to death. The situation's in flux. Under pressure, they might begin to find ways to accept themself for what they are, and realise they are loved already; but it's just as likely that they will crack and fall into despair. If that happens, they'll probably Burn their Primary too, cutting themself off from Chuubo and from anyone else in their inner circle. This they'll frame not as a way to protect themself, but to protect the inner circle. A fake person has nothing real to give. How can they inflict such a horrible creature on the people they love? Might as well feed them fairy food and watch them starve, as do something like that.

That unpleasant possibility aside...unlike Chuubo they haven't yet created a Primary Model when the game starts. They might do so during the course of it, though-they will, after all, need to make a lot of decisions, and they won't always be able to relate those back to 'will it help me become real' or 'will it help Chuubo'. I don't think they're likely to copy Chuubo's Badger for this; it fits him fine, as an inherently peaceful Serpent, but Seizhi is an Actual who has had to fight just to exist, and isn't prepared to lay down arms just because things are now somewhat better. What'd work better for them would be a valorous and fierce Lion Model based on that of their brother Laodemus, or a wider Snake Model with an inner circle encompassing 'everyone I know' or 'the whole of Town'.

Leonardo de Montreal: Lion Primary, Lion Secondary. This poor man.

Oh, he'd love you to believe he's a Double Bird, or a Snake/Bird mix of some kind. He'd probably pick one of those Houses out if he had the choice! But that's...actually for pretty superficial reasons. He likes science so he figures he's a shoo-in for the 'smart person house', he's snappy and standoffish so equally he thinks he's in the 'mean asshole house'. But in the SHC system neither of those really fit.

Let's look at his Primary first. He's not a Snake, right away-because he doesn't have an inner circle and he's okay with that. There's no 'my people, who are most important' and 'everyone else'-even when he's not leaning on his Friendless wound, when he's prepared to concede that he cares about Chuubo or Jasper. If he were a Snake, those two would be the most likely inner circle candidates-but they're not in there. Not because he doesn't care, but because he doesn't do the Snake style caring where his people are the centre of his world and the place he gets his morality.

Where his morality does come from is the Song of Hell, his 'love for the wicked'. It's intuitive, not constructed, and centred in himself, not reliant on others. (When he loses his heart, he doesn't draw up a systematic list of ethical principles to live by instead; he creates the Mechanism of Original Sin, which emulates the feeling of having an internal conscience as well as the function.) And the fact that he's a fallen angel means that at some point in his past he gave up Heaven on ideological grounds. The Song of Hell is just right, and therefore he follows it. Any justifications he makes for that decision come after the fact. And so he follows his Song, and becomes heroic-it's not just Jasper he saves, he's got a whole Thing about helping people. That's Lion Primary.

And though he's smart, he doesn't act Bird under pressure; he charges. He responded to Jade's death by first ripping out his own heart to save her daughter, then marching down to the BA to throw down with its Headmaster. He probably has a Bird Secondary model to help with Science, though-and he uses this model to back up his real secondary. Charge in throwing nightmare devices at the problem.

Natalia Koutolika: Bird primary, burnt secondary that's probably Bird or Lion.

Natalia's frozen heart sounds like a Petrified Snake thing, but it's not any specific person that makes her realise thawing is a possibility-it's Fortitude. And that's not because Fortitude is nice, the way a Badger might un-Burn on being accepted into a welcoming community, but because it's magical. The rules of the universe work differently here...so maybe that means things can be possible for her now that weren't possible back on Earth.

I thought at first her primary was burnt, but...freezing her heart made her lose faith in human goodness, and in her capacity for being happy, not in her ability to discern truth. She trusts her cynical System; actually, I think her looking like a Petrified Snake is down to that thing Birds do where their systems often come out looking like the other Primaries. Natalia has decided that the Petrified Snake morality is the true one...but when she arrives in Town, she reconsiders, and begins to edit.

Her Secondary is where she's burnt. Because part of the cynicism of her Primary System is the idea that there's no point trying. Use whatever methods are available, who cares? They won't work, because you can't do anything that matters-the world doesn't work like that. Most of the time she'll use Bird or Lion methods because those come easily to her, given she's a genius and a martial artist, so it's probably one of those. But then again...she doesn't seem to get any joy from them. I think her Arcs will (hopefully) involve healing the burning-and that could look like learning to trust in her charging or her knowledge base, or like finding that what she really feels Right about is putting in the work like a Badger or thinking on her feet like a Snake. (Burnt Badger secondary would be especially poignant, as it'd be her learning to rely on community as a source of strength.)

Jasper Irinka: Bird primary, Bird secondary.

She starts out with her system based on her mom's Heaven-style Lion primary; it doesn't work, and leaves 'a hole in the world' for her. So she starts looking for ways to make it work by picking up ideas from all sorts of people-her dad, her friends, the Moon Prince and assorted other NPCs-and either adjusting it by adding these in or making a new system entirely. And her matching secondary helps her to do this very effectively. Her Primordial ability to shape herself as she likes by growing limbs that she can then use and discard as she pleases is really Bird Secondary-and the fact that those limbs manifest from other people's Hopes? 'I know a guy' Bird.

Sure, she inspires people. But it’s not a Lion inspiration-being so completely and ferociously her own glorious self that others are attracted to her radiance. Jade probably worked like that, from what we know of her, but Jasper inspires because she deliberately does things to inspire Hope in people, using a toolkit of stuff she’s picked up.

(And of course Leo is fascinated with her-not just because she's 'Jade Irinka's daughter', the shine on that would wear off fast-it's that she's a Double Bird like what he wants to be! And she in turn is loving Leo's double Lion because that's what she thinks she's supposed to be like!)

Rinley Yatskaya: Badger Primary, Lion Secondary. Of course the Storyteller Arc kid gets the 'protagonist sorting'.

Rinley's stated purpose in their playbook is to be the social glue of the party, and their powerset makes them really good at it. They first save then make friends with Prince Eduard despite their family's feud with the Rats, and when they see Iolithae in the Titov shrine, they go to rescue her, because Eduard and Iolithae are people and that matters more than Eduard being a Rat or Iolithae being a dangerous sacred horror. In other words, they're a beautiful Universal Badger. As far as Rinley's concerned, you don't just see someone who's injured or imprisoned and then not help them, even if they're meant to be an enemy on ideological grounds or even grounds of prudence. And to help people, they jump right in and Do Something. That's textbook Badger/Lion.

Principal Entropy II: Exploded Badger primary, Badger secondary.

This guy is just community-building and caretaking all over the place. He shows up, he does the work-as the Angel of Fortitude he's literally fixing potholes and curing peoples' ailments! And he's doing that by going to the people and creatures of his Gardens, calling in favours.

And he's doing it because people are important. The denizens of the Evil Island, the people of Fortitude. 'All things can earn their recompense through love'.

The problem is, though-he's doing the dehumanisation thing that Badgers are so infamous for. He's not going 'some people are Enemies Who Must Die, and therefore are not really People', though, which is the usual form of the trope in fiction. That's the mode of a Badger at war, and E2 isn't fighting a war. He's going 'some people need to be Sacrificed for the Greater Good of the Community'. And that's not an easy thing for a Badger to believe. If he was an Idealist, or Snake who is comfy prioritising an inner circle, he could just hold that belief without problems. But being a Badger, he can't. If he sacrifices people, he has to either feel horribly guilty about it...or stop thinking of them as people.

One big group he tends to dehumanise are School students. School exists to create tools to fix the world. It's okay if he makes students into cursed Hall Monitors, it's okay if he turns SEED students into prototype world-trees and weirding walls. That's what they're for.

He also dehumanises himself. He's Other Than Human, Set Apart. He refuses to acknowledge his needs, and overworks himself-he's even, at game start, nullified two Divine Health Levels to make his Code Novae binding on the Evil Island, meaning that if you can get past his Immortality power he's actually the squishiest PC of the lot. So he's an Exploded Badger, sacrificing both himself and others to his community.

Miramie Mesmer: Bird Primary, Badger Secondary. She shares this sorting with her former self, Melanie Malakh.

Melanie's Bird Primary used the Bleak Methodology as her truth system. Coupled with her persistent, hard-working Secondary, this combination made her a star student at the Bleak Academy-a 'prodigy of hatred and despair'. However, when she left the Academy, things fell apart for her.

At the Bleak Academy she'd been sheltered from experiences or ideas that could provide any real challenge to the Bleak worldview. Because of that, her system wasn't as robust as she thought-and she didn't know how to shore it up or how to cope if it shattered. Which-along with the glass dragon-it did; her time in Town, the things she had seen and done, had led her to doubt the truth of ultimate futility. The last straw was the dragon itself. Melanie, through the work of her hands and mind, had created something that was not futile; a master-weapon that could destroy Town, just as she had intended. The very fact that she was able to do that gave the lie to the Bleak Methodology. Unable to deny this truth but just as unable to live with it, Melanie Fell so hard that-as Strategists sometimes do-she lost her identity and became a new person.

Unable and unwilling to use Melanie's system, Miramie has begun to construct her own, drawing on various sources-the communal and peaceful mores of Fortitude, Hideo Hayashi's belief that even unlikeable misfits do not deserve to be left alone without support systems, the other Archive kids' idea that outcasts should stick together, and Chuubo's Snake prioritising of personal ambitions and loves. Since she's not had much time to do this, it's nowhere near finished-but it looks likely to be robust. It also seems to me that she's likely to be able to edit it as she needs rather than Falling-or, if worst comes to worst, to Fall but get back up as herself, rather than shattering again or reverting into Melanie Malakh.

Her Badger Secondary is a contrast to Chuubo's, as where his is socially based and linked to personal relationships (Courtier Badger), hers is more focused on the more usual definition of 'work', and on community in the sense of history and tradition (Bookkeeper Badger). It's her Secondary she brings to bear on the tasks of setting up a cafe from scratch and helping maintain the Archives. It's also what she uses to keep herself going under the weight of the world's wrongness, to keep making art even though it's doing so that activates her Curse. She just keeps slogging away.

I can also see the Badger Secondary in Melanie's construction of the glass dragon. She sat herself down with Hideo Hayashi and learnt glasswork from scratch, putting in the time and effort to both master this new skill and to bring Hideo himself fully under her control. Simple, honest work, even though used for deeply destructive ends.

IN CONCLUSION:

Chuubo: Snake primary, Badger secondary, Badger primary model Seizhi: Snake primary, Burnt Snake secondary, unhealthy Badger Secondary model Leonardo: Lion primary, Lion secondary. Bird secondary model Natalia: Bird primary (with a system that starts out looking a lot like Petrified Snake), very burnt Secondary that is likely Bird or Lion Jasper: Bird primary, Bird secondary Rinley: Badger primary, Lion secondary Entropy II: Exploded Badger primary, Badger secondary Miramie: Bird primary, Badger secondary

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 20

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

~~*~~

Read Chapter 20 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As Edge was walking towards the vehicle shed, he caught an acrid hint of cigarette smoke in the air. He followed it, not inside but around the back and sitting in the shadows of the halogen lights was Rus.

Edge could hardly disguise his approach, the crunch of his boots in the hard-packed snow would have carried in the still icy air long before he came around the corner. But Rus made no attempt to hide. He stayed where he was, a burning cigarette dangling from his gloved fingers as he gazed up at the aurora-filled sky.

He’d already been out here for some time while Edge and the others spoke with Toriel and Gaster. The cold would soon be seeping through his outdoor gear no matter how good it was, sinking its chill into Rus’s bones. Monsters felt the cold less than Humans did but they were by no means immune to it. They could be sickened, frostbitten, and some, like Alphys, tolerated it even less than Humans. As a skeleton, Rus’s endurance should match Edge and Red’s.

Then again, who knew the boundaries of a skeleton from an entirely other universe.

Edge sat down next to Rus, drawing up his knees to rest his arms on them. He looked up at the swirling aurora overhead, the blur of colors rippling together in tangled waves, a sky ocean born of solar particles colliding with the atmosphere.

“it’s so beautiful here.” Rus’s voice was almost too loud in the hush.

“Yes,” Edge agreed in a voice to match.

It was. His intention when they’d first arrived here was only to find a safe place for those in his care, Alphys and Undyne and his still-wounded brother, and later, for Bonnie. Somewhere they could be certain of their meals and shelter. Nothing more than a job to replace the one he lost with the guard and a feeble attempt at that.

He hadn’t expected to find beauty in the glacial whiteness, nor in the endless night sky. He never anticipated the satisfaction that came with seeing another group off, knowing he’d protected them and guided them through this dangerous beauty. He couldn’t have known how Undyne and Alphys would blossom here, both their love for each other and their lives, settling into their place. Or that Red would slowly find his own footing and perhaps he’d never adore the Humans that came here, but he had his own pride in his work, kept all the equipment in top form and helped Alphys in her designs for new additions for the station. And Bonnie, who’d come to them later and never discussed her own inner wounds, yet still seemed to be healing from them. Together they’d created a place of safety for them, a home.

Even after all that, he never could have braced himself for Rus. Who’d settle into their home like he belonged here, their missing puzzle piece. Only it seemed as if he’d come not from their picture, but an entirely different box.

“he told you, didn’t he.” It was impossible to tell if the fog of Rus’s breath was from the cold or the cigarette.

Edge said nothing. His promise to Toriel specified he couldn’t reveal what they’d spoken about. It did not preclude discussing it at all and he only waited as Rus chuckled bitterly, filling in the silence on his own.

“it’s funny,” Rus drawled, flicking ash into the snow, “i came all the way to the end of the world to escape my past and it still came after me.”

Edge thought of Toriel, currently cramped into one of the spare rooms and probably trying not to scrape her horns against the ceiling. “I know the feeling.”

“yeah, i know,” Rus said, grimacing, “i’m sorry. part of the deal of tori sponsoring me was i’d keep mum about back home. i promised.”

“I understand.”

“yeah, well, if i’d known they were gonna pop in unexpectedly, i would’ve warned you about that much, anyway.” Rus’s expression crumpled slightly, going brittle around the edges. “look, i love tori, she’s been nothing but good to me. moms her way into everything. but you guys got your reasons to not want her around, i get that.”

“Rus,” the cloud of his own breath briefly obscured his vision as Edge sighed, “even if they are here because of you, that doesn’t make it your fault.”

“doesn’t it? think what pissed me off most is i know dings is right,” Rus murmured. “he’s can be a little rough saying it, but he means well.”

The resignation in Rus’s voice made Edge bristle, “He accused you of being nothing more than a key made for a particular lock.”

“truth hurts.” It was startling to realize how he’d categorized Rus’s smiles in his own head, the bright, fake one and the softer, shyer truthful one that came with a measure of trust. This one was entirely new, tainted with deep bitterness, “bet big brother didn’t fill in the details, so let me give you the highlights of our family tree.”

“see, our pop was the royal scientist in our world, the real deal. i call him pop, but that’s mostly because it annoyed him. he wasn’t really our father, he was a dna donor. he didn’t even name us, we named ourselves.” Rus was sitting right next to Edge here in the deep cold and still seemed miles away, no, not miles, he was in another world entirely. “dings took his name. not like he really knew there were many options past that or just getting called number one. just as well, i guess, looks more like him than me or blue. dings named blue and they both named me.”

He slanted a glance at Edge, his bright eye lights dimmed behind his goggles. “dings was still really young when blue popped out, what did he know about names? baby bro’s magic was blue, so that’s what he went with. i came a few more years down the line and by then, they’d raided the librarby and found out that papyrus is a traditional skeleton monster name.” He chuckled then, some of the bitterness of his smile invading the sound. “like anything about us was traditional.”

“we were his own personal test tube babies, homegrown like fucking cabbages, and gaster made us to fulfill a specific role. see, the core was important work, sure, but what he was really trying to do was make a machine that could get us past the shield. turns out, third time is the charm for our old man. he made dings and blue first but neither of them could use void magic. i was his hail mary, his last shot, and whaddaya know, it worked.” Rus scowled, tamped out his burning butt into the snow. He dropped it into his little tin and lit another, inhaling deeply and breathing out a cloud of smoke. “he never let me forget what i was for, but dings and blue always tried to be the best brothers they could. after pops kacked, it wasn’t until dings got that machine working that it even came up again.” He shrugged, barely visible through the layers of his heavy coat. “i got to forget for a while, at least.”

Edge said nothing, what could he say? His childhood was hardly one ease and joy; it more resembled the fairy tales that Red sometimes read to him when he still the shorter of the two, listening with wide sockets to gruesome tales that seemed all too possible. It seemed Rus had his own experiences with a sort of wicked stepfather and it was every bit as terrible as those stories. The urge to pull him close, to keep him safe, was itching in Edge and he forcibly held it back, let Rus tell his story.

“i never expected the machine to actually work,” Rus admitted. “dings was messing with it for so long. then we were here. my bro was only supposed to talk to the royal scientist and we were gonna hightail it back. easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Rus chuckled darkly, “turned out the lemonade was too sour after all. dings was pretty upset to find out the guy he was looking for was gone and so was his successor.”

Rus’s smile eased into something warmer, familiar, “it was tori who got me to start studying, you know. my bros always kept me on a tight leash back home, it was dangerous to even go outside, but here? i went out, tried to make some friends, ended up sleeping around some. wasted time,” Rus admitted, “tori suggested i work on my degree. i didn’t see the point at first, our pop always told us our purpose. i was there to power the machine. but, tori has this thing about being everyone’s mom.”

“Indeed, she does,” Edge murmured, recalling his days imprisoned after the coup, with good meals and care instead of execution.

“i think maybe that’s why she’s such a good queen. she told me pops was wrong,” Rus laughed a little in a puff of smokey breath and shook his head. “told me he was an asshole, actually, and that i deserved to have what i wanted out of life.”

“we argued about it, me and dings. drove blue nuts. blue was…he was the failure, pops said. at least dings was a scientist, but blue couldn’t even manage that. dings always told him his purpose was to be our caretaker and he tried damn hard at it.” Rus sighed, dropping his head back against the shed siding with a muffled thunk, “he hates it when we fight.”

“But you did it,” Edge said softly, “you got your degree, you’re working on your PhD and you’re doing a good job of it, at that.” Even through the growing cold he felt an inner warmth at the smile Rus flashed him, the real one.

“i did. i got so close.” Rus’s voice broke slightly, “things were horrible when we left, i can’t even imagine how they are now. and dings, he needs to fix the core. that was the skill that was built into him.” His smile soured back into bitterness, “it’s a compulsion, i don’t think he can help it. he has to be better than our pop. he has to be the one to save us all. blue believes everyone is worth saving, but he’s a protector, and me? i’m just a battery. i was never meant to have any of this.”

A honey-tinted tear slipped out from beneath his goggles and wound its way down, slowly freezing against the chilled bone of Rus’s skull and Edge’s control broke. He crawled across the short distance between them, scuffled through the snow and pulled Rus into his arms. He held on briefly, achingly tight before drawing back far enough to shake him, a little, and Rus looked at him with wide, startled eye lights.

“You are more than simply your father’s intentions,” Edge told him fiercely. “You’re brilliant and kind, and…and funny…wonderful…” He choked, unable to express the wild emotions burning in his soul; if there were words for it, Edge did not know them. Love was too shallow a word, too small, it couldn’t possibly hold everything Edge was feeling, all of it strangled in grief.

Rus reached up and his gloved fingers were gentle against Edge’s cheekbone. “it’s okay,” he said, softly, “i always knew we’d have to go back. i got to see this. i got to be with you. it’s okay,” he said again, crooned it, as if Edge were the one in pain. Perhaps he was, his soul ached as fiercely as if it was threatening to crack. “i saw so much here on the surface. i got to see the stars, i got to come here and see this.” He looked up at the sky, at the brilliant colors still churning within it along with a million twinkling lights looking down on them. “i was never going to get to stay, but i got to see this.”

“It’s not enough,” Edge said hoarsely. Not enough, Rus was supposed to leave here and go back into the sun, and instead, he was going where Edge could never follow, couldn’t protect him, and again, Edge would have given a portion of his own grieving soul not to see that sadness infecting Rus’s smile.

“i love you, you know,” Rus told him, achingly soft. “i know it’s not fair to tell you now, but i can’t keep it to myself. i need you to know it.”

Edge closed his sockets, shutting out Rus’s face and the aurora, saw only blackness and it wasn’t the cold that sent a tremor through him. Then he opened them again, looked into Rus’s face and saw the truth of it, the yearning. And the hopelessness. The need to say it back burned, words already forming on his tongue, but instead Edge blurted, “Stay the two weeks.”

Rus blinked, startled. That was clearly not the reaction he expected to his quiet confession, “but, the people—"

“It’s been two years,” Edge countered, “two weeks means nothing to your world and everything to you. Don’t let your brother’s compulsion drive you. Toriel—"

He almost said she was on his side, couldn’t, his knowledge was gleaned from their talk and words already thickening in his throat, his promise threatening to choke him when Rus kissed him softly, stopping him.

“i can guess about tori,” Rus said quietly, then, softer, “two more weeks.” He looked up again and even behind his goggles, the auroras couldn’t match the soft beauty of his eye lights. “there’s no stars back home. i’m gonna miss them.”

He fell silent, leaning against Edge’s side. Edge wrapped an arm around him and pulled Rus in closer, holding him tightly through the layers of his coat. He was starting to shiver; they were both getting too cold and he was about to suggest they move into the vehicle shed at the very least when Rus spoke again.

“it got so bad towards the end,” Rus whispered, “we stayed holed up in the lab, mostly, but we could see what was happening. monsters were getting more violent, losing control, gaining lv. pops’ diagrams on the core were incomplete. it was dings’s idea to come to another world and check theirs. i had to come, of course and we couldn’t leave Blue alone, so we all came.”

Rus kicked one booted foot idly, scraping up snow with his heel. “s’weird. even the snow is different here. back home it seems…stale somehow. used. maybe it’ll be better when dings gets the core up and running.” Rus sighed. “i never would have come to the station if i’d thought he was close to a breakthrough. it’s weird, i thought i had enough time.” Rus drew back a little, looking at Edge with that soft smile back in place. “but it sure wasn’t a waste.”

Almost, Edge kissed him again, hesitated with their mouths a breath away. Something about what Rus said niggled, something… “Weird.”

“heh,” Rus chuckled, “it’s double weird hearing you say weird. doesn’t seem like your kind of slang, bossman.”

Edge barely heard him. His brother had a breakthrough on the core, Rus said, an unexpected breakthrough. Edge cursed himself, replaying what Rus told him. He'd been foolishly focused on the information about Rus and why they were here, not on what changed to bring them to the station.

"What was your brother studying, exactly?” Edge demanded. He took Rus’s shoulders in both gloved hands, holding him, “You said he was looking for information about the Core."

Rus blinked uncertainly, his browbone furrowing, “um, papers, mostly. tori has lots of stuff from the old royal scientist, dings was wading through tons of it. i didn’t see much, he didn’t want any help. he was afraid we’d miss something. guess he found what he was looking for.”

“Yes, I think he did,” Edge said sourly, “A patsy.” Edge climbed to his feet and held out a hand to help Rus, “I’d like to know what was in those notes your brother found and I think we should ask the former royal scientist.”

“what?” Rus wobbled for a second, catching his balance after sitting for so long, “seriously? you think they’d talk to you? tori said they don’t—

“I should hope so,” Edge said, dryly, “she’s in her lab.” And very likely watching them on her cameras.

Rus went still, croaking out, “alphys??”

“You didn’t know?” Edge slanted Rus a look, but he believed him.

“no!” Rus spluttered, already heading back towards the station, Edge trailing after him. “tori didn’t talk about it, i didn’t even think to ask anyone else, why would i?”

“Maybe your brother isn’t as discriminating,” Edge said, under his breath, letting the wind tear the words away. It was more than a little suspicious that his brother solved the issue of core technology when Rus was in the only place that possessed a replica of the original. Edge didn’t believe in coincidence.

“Rus,” Edge jogged to catch up, taking hold of Rus’s elbow to stop him as he asked, “Do you trust me?”

“yes,” Rus said, unhesitatingly.

“I trust you, too,” Edge said, softly, and leaned in to give him a brief, chilly kiss. “Come on. You’re freezing and I have questions.”

“you’re the boss,” Rus said. It was only a shadow of his normally teasing self, but it was something. He took Rus’s gloved hand in his own and together, they made their way to the main building.

tbc

[tired-college-student-writing]

#WayneAngel: Chapter 2

The Maribat AU by @ozmav and @maribat-archive is all I can think about atm, so enjoy more of this

Summary- After Grayson posts a video on the wrong twitter, Damian feels like he should lose his social media privileges, and possibly his hand. 

Part 1

Part 2 (HERE)

Part 3

______________________________________________________________________

Wayne’s Angel @FashionableInGotham

Thanks for outing my relationship, Dick, now I owe Tim money. 

Marinette paused realizing that no one was going to believe the lone tweet, even as she hit send on the first post of her new twitter account. There were probably a hundred fake accounts popping up already in light of the news. Thousands of theories on her were already flying around the net. 

She probably had a zillion texts from her classmates about the video, but she had taken one look at the group chat and missed calls she had gotten from Alya and turned her phone onto do not disturb. She’d check for texts from her actual friends later. 

She sighed and stuck her head outside, and was only mildly surprised seeing the two middle Wayne boys stilling sitting on the patio. 

“You guys are still out here?” She asked, only for Jason to flip her off and Tim just bleary lifted his head up, having been taking a nap in the sun like a cat.

“Easy boy,” She soothed Jason, “I’ve just come to tell you the kitchen is no longer off-limits, and that Damian is attempting to murder Dick.”

“What did Dickie do?” 

Instead of answering Jason’s question she held up a blue bill between two fingers, “Oh I also owe Tim this,” 

She watched Tim pause mid-yawn and eyes flash to her before his eyes grow large and he cracked up laughing.  

Jason slipped into a cheeky smirk, “No…” 

“Oh yes,” Marinette sighed, “Dick accidentally uploaded the video he took earlier to his public twitter, instead of his private one. #WayneAngel and #MariDami are both trending right now.”  

“The demon spawn might actually succeed in killing him this time,” Tim gasped out, snatching the bill from her.

“Not on Alfred’s birthday, he won’t,” She giggled back before holding up her phone, “Either way, mind helping me enter the celebrity Twitter scene? I feel there’s going to be lots of clean up involved, but I figured the sooner I’m officially introduced the better, but I need someone to confirm I’m me on there.” 

Tim pulled out his phone, “One introduction tweet coming right up.” 

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

Thanks, @AFlyingGrayson for fucking up and winning me the bet with on who would out The Demon spawn’s relationship! 

Anyways, Just wanted to introduce @FashionableInGotham as my actual favorite sibling and the Demon spawn’s real, flesh and blood, girlfriend, Marinette.

With the tweet was a picture that Tim had snapped of the three of them chilling on the porch, Marinette perched on the armrest of Tim’s chair as the boy waved the banknote in front of the lens, Jason smirking as he gave the young girl bunny ears. 

It’s a very endearing picture, in her opinion and was ranking in retweets in a heartbeat. Her follower count was climbing from the seven Waynes. Marinette wasn’t going to ask how Tim managed to hack twitter to make the missing Waynes follow her, she really didn’t want to know. 

Plausible Deniability and all that.

The tweet was followed quickly by one from Jason. 

Jason Todd Lives @BestTodd

Yes the brat has a girlfriend

Yes I lost the bet on if he’d follow in Bruce’s footsteps 

Yes that’s my real reaction to her picking me up

Yes she’s is that adorable irl, Proof vvv

Yes @FashionableInGotham is my unofficial baby sister and I will fuck up anyone that upsets her

The picture he attached as proof of her being adorable was of her working on a piece, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she concentrated. The reds and purple laying in pieces around her as she snipped and sewed them together. Behind her, you could barely make out Tim and Damian arguing on her chaise. 

There was a sudden bang as the patio door was hung open and Dick tumbled through, phone in hand, with Damian still following him, but the knife had been replaced with his sword. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were introducing Marinette on twitter!” The eldest whined as he continued to dodge Damian’s strikes. Damian stilled, turning to his other brothers. 

“You what!” 

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Easy Damian. It was my idea. Get a good image out there before people have too much time to theorize about how I wormed my way into the elusive Waynes.” 

Tim just snorted, “Ah yes, Marinette the masterful gold digger who had no idea she was dating the Damian Wayne for the first two months of their relationship.” 

The other boys laughed as Marinette’s face turned bright red. 

“You promised not to bring that up again,” SHe whined as her boyfriend came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her. 

“You know you love us, Angel,” He mumbled as he pressed a kiss into her hair, pointily ignoring the fake gagging from Jason and Tim. 

“Sooooo” Dick drawled, bringing everyone attention to him, “We have about an hour we need to start dinner, and two before he and B get back. Who’s up for a little twitter QnA?” 

_______________________________________________________________________

 The group chat was too hectic to keep up with anymore, no one was sure what was happening, until Chloe texted each of them individually and offered up a conference room at her family’s hotel for them to gather and go over what was happening. 

She was a little surprised that they all agreed, especially Lila. The gig was up, there wasn’t a way for her to convincingly spin this turn of events, not when the Wayne’s were already rushing to social media to defend the girl after the video accidentally went up, introducing her under a brand new twitter. 

If anyone saw that the blonde was already following said twitter, she’d claim it was to keep up with any drama that unfolded from little miss no one dating a Wayne. 

After all, she had an image to keep up, she couldn’t just... 

“Chloe?” 

Her head snapped up to see Adrian standing in the doorway. 

“How on earth did you get here so fast?” She asked with a raised brow. 

He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck, “I... might of snuck out...” 

She laughed, “Knew school would be good for you.” 

He grinned sliding into the seat next to her, making her relax. 

Their relationship had been rocky for a while, but after Queen Bee made her official debut, they were working through it. She couldn’t deny the fact that his eyes glowed as she tried her best to be a better person made everything easier

“So have you abandoned your ridiculous high road principle?” She questioned, watching him flinch slightly. 

“You know I didn’t...” 

“Yeah, Yeah,” She sighed waving her hand, knowing it was still a sore spot to him that Marinette had taken the advice so poorly before Chloe stepped up and explained what he had meant. 

Keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself. Messages that had been instilled into Adrian for years, both to keep out of the media spotlight and, after his mother disappeared, to stay at of his father's way. Lies had never been an issue to him since rumors were always flying around the model and the people he worked with, so while it took him a while to see that the lies that Lila told were different than those written in the gossip columns and were actually doing harm. 

Let’s just say the boy was still beating himself up for that, even if Marinette forgave him. Sadly it was too late to have Adrian come forward on his own to out Lila without it looking like Marinette had just gotten him under her thumb so they had been waiting for their chance.

Chloe was glad to say that that day had finally come. 

“Did you know Damian was the boy Mari talked about?”  He asked quietly. 

“No,” She sighed, “Luka and Kagami had no idea either, you’d know this if you bothered looking at your phone.” 

He shrugged, leaning over her shoulder, “I left it at home, Dad tracked me last time I snuck out with it.”  

She huffed a laugh handing over the phone so he could see the... colorful texts from the pair. 

“I didn’t know Kagami knew any swears in French,” He confessed after scrolling through the group chat. 

“My money’s on her learning them from Ms. Couffaine,” Chloe offered lazily, “That woman swears like a sailor.” 

“She lives on a boat,” Adrian counters, “I think that qualifies her as a sailor.” 

“Whatever,” 

They lapsed into silence as Adrian clicked over to the entire group chat to see if he could make any sense out of it now that the flow of incoming texts has trickled off. 

“Are you okay?” She suddenly asks making him arch a brow, gazing up from the phone. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Your lady is in love with someone else.” 

Adrian smiled softly.

 “I accepted that awhile ago Chlo,” He reminded her, back to the day they were all too close when time ran out, when the five of them could no longer hide, “I’m very happy to be her best friend, plus I’ve been thinking that I might look what the cat can drag-in” 

She groaned, whacking him, “You’re ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.” 

“Like you weren’t wondering if you’d be a good snake charmer.”

She squeaked, swatting him again harder as he fell off his chair with laughter.

“I told you that in confidence, not so you can make stupid puns!” 

“Oh come on Chloe, don’t throw a hissssy hit,” 

“I’m a bee, so buzz off!” 

They stared at each other before breaking down into giggles. 

“I hate you,” She whines through the pearls of laughter. 

“No you don’t,” He waggled his eyebrow making her laugh harder. 

Knowing he won he glanced back at her phone only for his smile to twist into a wicked grin. 

“Tone down the Chat in that grin or people will put it together,” She warned, poking his cheek. 

“Marinette and the Wayne boys just said they’re doing a QnA under #Daminette.”  

Chloe blinked a few times before her smile twisted to match his, “There’s a projector in here and we have about five minutes until anyone else gets here.” 

“I’ll grab your laptop and make sure Plagg and Pollen come down from your room,” Adrian said, climbing to his feet. 

“I’ll call Luka and Kagami and ask them to be prepared, and then get Jean to get refreshments and inform Jagged Stone of what’s happening,” She assigned to herself before he nodded and took off. 

Operation Dethrone Lila was officially underway. 

About fucking time

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @kceedraws @northernbluetongue @starry-bi-sky @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @lexysama @vincentvangoose

[honeymoonjin]

part of the Roll Deep project.

---

genre: pornstar!au, pro dom!jin || word count: 7.4k || warnings for sexually explicit context: bdsm, sex work/porn, use of safe word, oral (m receiving), fingering, anal play (f receiving), unprotected sex, sex toys, bondage, humiliation/degradation, pet play, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, jin is a filthy bitch, please heed the tags, dom!jin, sub!reader, voyeurism/exhibitionism.

---

The longer you stand outside the door to the dungeon, the more nervous you get, but you imagine that's rather the point. It's cold in the waiting room, especially when you'd been already instructed to remove your robe, leaving you in the plain white lingerie all subs on the show wore.

Although you had seen every single episode of Play Hard at least twice (once out of curiosity when you were applying for the show and a second time to try and prepare yourself) the actual behind-the-scenes information was kept under lock and key. You had even signed a non-disclosure, stating that you couldn't publicly or privately reveal any of the goings-on that weren't released in the official episode.

It means that you now feel unbelievably off-guard and underprepared, shivering in the waiting room. It's silent apart from the metallic whirr of the air-con. There's not even anyone in here now that the director had slipped inside to check on the proceedings.

You can't help but scoff a little. Director. One of the few things you had managed to glean from a past costar was that the director was there to arrange the setting up of equipment and then sit and watch. The middle-aged American guy had introduced himself to you in the waiting room, given you instructions and taken your robe, then left promptly, but that short time was enough for you to realise that what you had heard was probably true. He was so spineless and jittery you could've mistaken him for a trainee PA.

Two solid thuds ring out against the heavy metal door, making you jump slightly, a fresh wave of goosebumps breaking out on your upper arms. That was the signal to go inside. Suddenly you want to turn tail and run away. Instead, you push open the door and step inside.

He is the first thing you see upon entering. His back faces you when you walk in, and you swallow hard. His shoulders are so broad that it blocks you from seeing anything on the table he's standing at, so you simply hover awkwardly, wringing your hands together as you hear the doors shut behind you, and the director scamper back off to his seat.

He ignores you, fiddling with something metallic on the table, and although it builds that anxious feeling in your gut, you take the opportunity to look him over properly. His hair is a natural inky black, so glossy the backlight reflects off it. His clothes are intimidating, even from behind, even though you've seen them a hundred times before. Stretched tightly across his shoulders, a black button-down shirt is bracketed by a leather harness that cinches around his waist, and again halfway up his torso. There are two thick silver loops attached to that upper band on either side of his spine, and you know from watching his show there are more on his front. A spike of electricity jumps through you when you remember one of his more recent episodes where he had locked a sub's wrist cuffs to the back loops. She was a tiny girl with short arms, and by the time she was locked in she was completely pressed up against him, speared on his cock; helpless and unable to get off it. Fuck, what was a girl like you doing here?

"Eyes on the floor."

Your head shoots down immediately before you even consciously process his words. His voice is low and resonant, a richer timbre in real life than the mic clipped to his shirt could ever hope to pick up. You hear his feet, clad in heavy black shoes, shuffle against the hardwood floor as he turns to face you. You curl your bare toes against the cold, varnished planks. You'd never look up, never dream of disobeying his orders before you've even really begun, but you couldn't have predicted just how blazing his gaze feels on you, even, especially, when you can't see it.

"Babybaby223?"

You nod your head at the sound of your username. Even though it's obvious he would know it (he personally cherry-picks subs he wants to work with, after a rigorous audition period), it brings to mind the thought of him watching your videos. You bite down on your lip to fight a wicked smile. The image of the famed professional dom jerking off to one of your livestreams is delicious. You feel your nerves melt into raw excitement.

"You've only been in this business for two months, is that right?" You nod again, more enthusiastically. "Yet you think you can handle me. Ambitious little whore, aren't you?" He's on the move again, each step echoing dully, growing louder. You can see the tips of his perfectly-shined shoes right in the top of your vision when he stops. Eyes straining, your head tips up just slightly so you can see a little more of him. "You were a very good girl in your audition. I liked that little schtick about denying yourself so that you can come for Master. Very cute. Are you going to be a good girl for me again today?"

You nod again, taking the opportunity to raise your gaze a little more once your head stills again. You can see most of his pants now, barely able to make out where the black fabric strains over his thighs. Just a little more...

He stomps his foot suddenly, bringing it down hard and fast on the floor to create a sharp thud. Instinctively your eyes shoot up to meet his but he's storming towards you, and you get only a blurred glimpse of the glare on his face before a hand is coming out and pressing down hard on the crown of your head, forcing your chin to press uncomfortably on your sternum. You wiggle, trying to bend your spine and ease the tension, but he keeps you there, fingers tightening around the top half of your scalp, nails scratching slightly in your hair.

"Apparently not," he growls, and you squeeze your eyes shut in regret, "I guess you were just faking it in that audition tape, then? Because so far I've only given you one command and you've already disobeyed me."

"Sorry, Master," you rush out, but the sound is squashed and guttural with the tight bend in your throat.

His fingers curl into your hair, tugging at a handful of it in one sharp yank. You wince, but stay otherwise silent, drinking in the sensation of his hand on you. Suddenly there's a pressure against your cheek, and a whisper in your ear. "Did we agree that you could speak?"

You tremble, the warm air brushing down your neck lighting up your nerves. You shake your head, bowing your head even further.

Suddenly, his grip eases off, and the hand begins to smooth out your hair. "It's okay," he says lightly, though there's a sharpness to it, "I'm sure you know the two strikes rule."

You nod, his cheek warm against yours as the muscles in your neck ache. His two strikes rule was famous, even featuring in his logo as two slashes across the web-series' name. Taken from the well-known 'three strikes and you're out', this version meant dictated that if Master gave you two strikes, the rest of your session was punishment in any way he saw fit, no matter how much time was left. Pathetic sluts don't deserve three chances, he'd often say.

You mentally berate yourself on getting a strike so soon. One time last year a bratty sub had gotten on the show and blown both strikes within ten minutes. The video was a brutal documentation of her almost four-hour long disciplining. You didn't think you could handle that.

You bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from apologising verbally, instead focusing on staying as still as possible.

With one last demeaning pat on the top of your head, he removes his hand and stands back up to his full height. You keep your eyes focussed firmly on your own two feet as he walks away, calling out to you in a firm tone. "You may look up. Join me at the table."

You scamper over, but with his back to you again, you take the chance to glance over at the production team.

They're, for the most part, all bunched up along one wall doing nothing but twiddling thumbs and watching. You've never had a problem with being watched during sex (it would make shooting porn very difficult if you were) but going from self-filmed cams to a web-series was a lot to take in.

The director watches you as you cross the room, meeting your gaze for a moment, simply shrugging in response to your concerned look. He wasn't going to help you here. Unless you used the safe word or something went seriously wrong, your only shot at leaving here without a bright-red ass, or worse, was to be the best-behaved sub Master had ever had.

He doesn't even look at you. "Wrists."

You hold them out to him hastily, watching in wonder at the effortless grace he has in looping a raven-black rope around one, then the other, before tightening it so they draw together, pressed tightly against one another. The feeling of danger spliced with security is always addictive; even at home you'd sometimes practice self-ties for your livestreams, though it was always different knowing someone else was in control of your mobility. You shift your hips slightly, clenching around nothing.

Once he's finished, he steps back from you. "Try to get out."

You jiggle your wrists, only to have no give, and look back up at him. His mouth flattens and his jaw tenses. You swallow hard, taking a deep breath before tugging more vigorously, expelling all your energy into slipping them off or pulling them apart. Once again, they don't give.

"Good. The EMT shears are with the director; if either you or me needs to use them, use the safe word plus "rope". If for any other reason you or I feel like we need to use the safe word, say it verbally, or if you can't, use the hand motion." You nod obediently, feeling yourself calm down again with this brief respite. This was never included in the episodes, but you appreciate the reinforcement of a safety net around the scene. "Say the safe word and do the gesture so I know you remember it."

You close both of your hands into fists, leaving the pointer fingers out and wiggling them. "Purple."

He nods once. His face is still taut and his mouth hard, but there's something lighting up his eyes. He's excited about this. "Finally, if you say the safe word once, it stops that particular activity, if you say it twice in a row or on more than one occasion, it stops the scene. Understood?"

You nod again, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. This was great; you didn't know what you were so frightened about. You think back to the list of kinks you had to submit with your application; a comprehensive check-mark list of all the things you could possibly be into. Ropes and bondage was definitely one you checked off, and you're suddenly feeling euphoric, filled with anticipation of all the kinks you loved. You couldn't wait for him to try them out on you. It had been a while since anyone other than yourself had given you pleasure.

"On the table, facing me."

You step up to it, turning in anticipation, only to freeze. It's higher than you were expecting. The edge of the table rests on top of the swell of your ass, and you futilely try lifting a leg up one at a time to shuffle on, but it's no use. You could jump, but with your hands tied you'd risk falling and injuring yourself.

A dark chuckle breaks your attention away from the table. You stare up at Master with wide eyes. His lips are full and rosy, even when they're stretched across his face in an amused sneer. "Need some help?"

Your bottom lip sticks out slightly as you nod. He could've let you get up and then tied your wrists together. But his smug grin as he wraps his hands around your waist tells you that getting you off-guard and reliant on him was exactly the point.

You squeak as he lifts you up with ease and dumps you down ungracefully on the table.  You suck in a hiss through your teeth. The table is wood, too - the same dark grain as the floor - and it's freezing against your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear doing nothing to provide any insulation.

Your eyes are on his. You feel electric, liquid excitement running through your veins and  gathering between your legs. He quirks his eyebrows in thought, letting his eyes run over you. Automatically, you find yourself straightening your spine and sucking in your tummy, conscious of the way it would look on camera. Your eyes dart nervously over to the cameraman who paces in closer to you in a crouch.

Goosebumps raise up on the tops of your thighs. God, why was it so fucking cold in here?

You jump slightly when a hand comes down on your thigh. It's not hard, nothing more than a warning swat, but you swallow hard at the fire burning in his eyes.

"Who's your master here?"

"You are," you reply immediately, with a dutiful head-bow, only to jump again when a harder slap hits the sensitive skin of your thigh.

He's looking at you in disappointment now, a pensive frown on his face as he reaches around behind you, and somehow that's much worse than anger. His face is leaning over your shoulder as he reaches for something, pulling back a slip of black fabric.

You bite your lip, toes curling. A blindfold. One of your favorite accessories in the bedroom. Everything always felt more intense when your vision was restricted, and it would help you forget the intimidating presence of an entire production team.

"Now," he states brusquely, running a veined hand over the fabric to smooth it out, "I noticed you checked off sensory deprivation on your list of kinks, so I thought I'd be a generous master and give you a blindfold. But it seems you can't keep your fucking mouth shut, so I'm gonna have to use this to shut you up. Open wide, princess."

The corners of your mouth quirk down with the sarcastic pet name, but you open your mouth for him nonetheless, biting down on the thick twist of black cotton that he slips between your teeth, tying it tightly at the back.

With that done, he resumes his inspection of you, completely ignoring you as he runs his fingers lightly and impersonally over you, like you were a doll he was inspecting.

Over time you can feel the cotton wicking away all the moisture in your mouth, and your glands start to work overtime to produce more saliva. With a growing dread, you can feel lines of drool slipping down your chin. Every societal instinct in you screams to wipe it away, but he currently is holding your wrists up, a single finger looped in the rope, pulling it away from you like an afterthought as he inspects your breasts, head cocked to the side.

Here was another procedure you had never seen on his show, and you were feeling as off-guard as ever. With no clocks in here, you had no way of knowing how long it had been, but it felt like hours before he finally reached your head, tipping your jaw up and to each side, moving you like an object.

Once he lets your jaw go and looks at your face, he spots the spit on your chin and laughs. "We've barely even started yet and look how messy you are. Don't think I didn't notice how you've ruined your panties already."

You make a little whine and widen your legs, arching your back as best you can.

"Baby, baby," he coos condescendingly, referencing your username. "Are you feeling needy, hm?" You nod. "Tell me what you want."

You blink at him for a moment. How were you supposed to-? Though your grin isn't visible behind the gag, you know he can see the way your cheeks lift and your eyes light up as you get an idea.

Lifting a leg up, you use the tips of your toes to poke his crotch teasingly. To your delight, he's rock hard.

He runs a hand through his hair, disrupting it slightly as it parts to reveal his thick brows. With one palm on your knee and the other on the table beside you, Master steps forward, your foot pressed flatly against him, bending at the knee. His voice is deceptively smooth, a sharp edge dripping with honey. "My sub wants me to fuck her?"

You nod quickly, though your eyebrows crease at the way he talks about you in third person, instead of directly.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't do that just yet." His pink tongue slips out to wet his lips. "What kind of dom would I be if I let my sub tell me what to do?"

The back of his hand strikes across the bone of your ankle, batting your foot away. He steps right up, pressing his hips against the edge of the table between your legs, crotch right on top of yours. Any levity or humour has disappeared as he reaches out and latches onto your chin with an iron grip. He turns your head harshly towards the cameras and leans in, nipping at your earlobe once in warning. "Don't think for a second that this is about you. I'm sure you've heard many times that the one with the most power in a scene is a sub, because they can call off the scene at any moment. Perhaps you can call off the scene if you need to, but that does not mean you have any power here. The scene ends, your contract ends, you hear me?"

With wide eyes you attempt to nod, though his grip is too tight. He uses his hand to make you, guiding your jaw up and down. His grip is so tight, his fingers press through the meat of your cheek and squeezes on your teeth. You wince, but he doesn't let up.

"We all know that subs come here for one reason, and that's to get publicity. Cams aren't enough for a greedy whore like you, are they? Well, let me tell you a secret, princess: every single one of those twelve million viewers on my series don't want me to let you have your way. They don't even want me to fuck you." You tremble as he bites down on your ear again, tugging at the lobe before growling in your ear again. "They want me to ruin you."

All of a sudden he's letting go of you completely, and you hastily prop yourself up with your bound hands to prevent yourself from slumping over. You run your tongue over the inside of your sore cheeks as best you can with the gag in, panting.

"Turn around. Ass up, tits down."

It's surprisingly easy to navigate onto your stomach once you get your knees up on the table, and it's actually kind of comfortable letting your chest rest on your tied wrists, knees tucked between your tummy to prop your ass up.

Of course, comfortable was not in your contract. You suck in a shocked breath when his hand comes between your legs, lifting you up by your crotch until your knees no longer touch the table. You squeeze your eyes shut as you put your focus into staying stable with your front half securely pressed against the table.

"Are you a fucking amateur? Spread your legs."

You do as he says, hovering them open in the air, your shins bumping against the table edge, and finally he lowers you back down. Once he removes his hand, you whimper at the loss of pressure against your clit, feeling unbelievably vulnerable, but still it's not enough for him.

"Wider," he commands impatiently as he presses down on the middle of your back so that you have no choice but to arch further, knees splayed out wide. It's only once you reach this position, tensing your thighs slightly, that you realise that you can't get up anymore. Your legs are so far apart that you couldn't get your knees under you if you tried, and his palm rests heavy on your bare back, a reminder of the dominance he has over you. If you had ever doubted it before, here was the first-hand confirmation that he was a profession, and the thought of what he might do next makes you keen, whining again.

He hums to himself in consideration, and you hear him shifting around behind you. Another pair of footprints patters up, something metallic clinks, and hand rubs your back almost soothingly. "Now," he begins, moving around to your side, "you've shown me that you're incapable of following instructions, so I think I'm going to have to take some precautions."

You drop your head onto your hands, the rope on your wrists rubbing the tops of your breasts. The urge not to swivel around and see what he's doing only increases tenfold when the hand on your back disappears, but you force yourself to stay still. Two strikes, you remind yourself, and only one left.

To your left, you hear a swipe, some clanking, and then a tug. You almost jump right off the table when a solid strap of leather is thrown across your back, just below your shoulder blades. It lays there loosely for only a moment as he walks around to the other side, but soon enough you feel it growing taut over you. He pulls it tighter and tighter until your top half is completely flush against the table, your arms squished in between, and your back arching up to present your ass.

Your breathing picks up again, constricted slightly by the tight angle, and your eyes fall shut again, head to the side on the table. You can feel yourself truly slipping into subspace; it's liquid, like falling asleep or relaxing in a hot bath. The realization that you no longer have control, and that resisting it is futile, settles into your bones, and you feel your muscles ease.

"There," he drawls from somewhere above you, "that's sure taken the fight out of you, hasn't it? Now you're mine to play with." You shudder when he pairs his comment with a finger trailing up your spine, and he chuckles low in his throat.

His voice echoes, moving behind you. "In fact, if I wanted to, I could scrap all the other plans I had for you and just use you as my little cocksleeve. Fuck; if I got tired I could sit back and let the others come and have a go. If that's what I wanted, there'd be nothing you could do about it. You'd just have to sit there and take it."

He's not telling the truth; the safe word is firmly etched into the contract, as well as the fact that no persons were allowed to engage without also signing the contract, and no one had. Still, as a fingernail drags ever-so-lightly across your behind, along the seam of your panties, the thought causes you to whimper.

The teasingly featherish tough changes to a surge of heat as both his palms flatten over the globes of your ass, long fingers slipping under the fabric as he massages the flesh. "...but as good as that sounds, I have something much better in store for you, something I'm quite looking forward to seeing."

His hands move against you, shifting around to either side, gripping at the fabric. The white lingerie every sub on the show wore were purpose-made to be extremely easy to remove. As such, the seams on the panties were practically perforated, easy to rip off in the situation that you couldn't simply slide them down. It only takes two purposeful tugs before they tear, and the fabric falls away, clinging to your folds momentarily.

You sigh out at the feeling of the cold air on your center, the slick that's made its way all over your folds quickly cooling. A finger or thumb running down your middle has you biting down on the fabric between your teeth.

"I'm a big believer in lube," Master divulges, "but I prefer mine all-natural. So before we get to the main event, I'm going to have to replenish my stocks."

In your sex-hazed mind, you don't understand what he means until a single finger is sinking into you, enough of an intrusion to send your nerves alight, but not enough to give you any real relief.

It leaves you, and you hear the obscene sound of him sucking on his finger with a wet pop. He groans. "God, if you hadn't been so poorly behaved, perhaps I'd have given you a reward and eaten that pretty pussy of yours." You make out a disappointed sob, attempting to shift your hips back for more friction although the tight band across your middle keeps you infuriatingly stuck.

"Mm, you're soaked as it is but better to be safe than sorry, no?"

Your heart is pounding in your chest as he leaves quickly to grab something else from the props manager, and you swear it stops for a minute as you hear him plug something into a wall socket. You make a questioning whine from behind your gag.

"Well, we don't have all the time in the world," Master explains as he presses something silicon-like and firm against you, slicking it up. "The quickest way to get you dripping for me is an orgasm, and I'm not going to waste my time making it special for you." He flicks a switch and an audible buzzing vibrates powerfully between your legs, causing the muscles in your thighs to jump. "Now hurry the fuck up and cum for me."

You recognise this raw power immediately. A plug-in-Hitachi. Famous in porn videos everywhere, you had been inspired to splurge and buy one yourself once, only to realize just how powerful it was. You had used it once, too much sensation to even orgasm, and given it away.

It's infuriating, unbearable, having the wand pressed up to your clit as he runs it back and forth impatiently. It's too much to take, but you physically have no choice but to take it. Your teeth are clenching tightly around the fabric, drooling onto the table, and your hands are squeezed into fists, the muscles of your abs, butt and thighs flexing even though they can't move you away from the torrent of pleasure.

"Pweathe," you gargle, "koo ngucks!"

"Too much?" he questions, though his voice is tinted with bemusement rather than any genuine concern. "I don't care."

You let out a frustrated scream from the back of your throat, feeling tears squeezing out the corners of your eyes. You crack them open to see the director in the edge of your vision, staring intensely at your hands, waiting for any sign of the safe word signal.

Although you're so sensitive you can't help but cry, and your nerves feel like they're being electrocuted, something runs deeper, a viscous current of pleasure building up inside you. Oh, god. You're actually going to cum.

The moment you entertain the thought that you were getting close, the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over every inch of your body. You feel yourself convulsing on the table as much as your bondage allows, spit pooling around your cheek as you hopelessly drool around the gag. As soon as you cum, you're already being thrust into oversensitivity, and your master cruelly keeps the vibrator held against you as you sob hopelessly.

Then you feel something, a strange object swiping between your legs against your folds, dipping in slightly. The wand falls away, and you go silent, feeling that weird sensation as you lie bonelessly on the table, knees parting even wider as they fail to hold you up at all.

A soft chuckle is pushed out of his nose. "Mm, that shut you up. Bet you're wondering what this is, huh?" You pant, managing to summon enough energy to nod, twitching every time that hard yet thin thing gets too close to your abused clit. "Let me show you."

You knit your eyebrows and open your eyes, blinking against the bright backlights, as a waist comes into your line of vision.

You crane your neck to look up him, hyper-aware of the wet patch on the table, but he doesn't comment on it, instead cheerily showing you a small clear squeezy-bottle and a spoon. Tears of humiliation spring to you eyes as you see him discard the spoon and produce the bottle's top from his pocket, twisting it on and testing it, squeezing out a small amount of what could only be your slick onto his finger.

He rolls it absentmindedly between his thumb and pointer finger, staring down at you with a smile you haven't seen before. "Good girl. Now we can move on to the fun stuff, hm?"

You shudder as he moves away. If this was just a preamble, what the fuck did he consider the fun stuff? Your muscles ache when he loosens the belt across your back and removes it, though a slap to your ass and a barked command leave you spread open on all fours for him.

"Now, my sources tell me you like being called baby and babygirl, is that right?"

You make a noise of confirmation, too weak to nod.

He places a hand on your behind, spreading your cheeks. You jump when a warm liquid drizzles down your crack, and a finger presses against your rim. "Well, I'm not going to call you that today. In fact, you look so pretty on all fours that I think I might call you..." he trails off as he pushes past your tight ring of muscles, pressing a single digit deep inside you. "...my puppy."

You shake your head resolutely. "Ngo."

"No?" He laughs, slowly fucking you with the one finger. "'No' isn't our safeword. It's sad," he muses, squeezing out some more of your juices to make the slide a little easier, picking up the pace. "Because if you're a good little puppy for me, I might just fuck you like a bitch in heat, just like you wanted. Does that sound good?"

You whimper when he slips his finger out and you clench around the empty space, but he's reaching forward to undo the knot around the back of your head and suddenly you're able to spit out the gag, sucking in lungfuls of cool, fresh air.

"Answer me this time. Do you want to get fucked, puppy?"

Your breath leaves you in a hopeless sigh as he moves back, upgrading to two fingers inside of you. "Yes, please," you whine.

"Oh? That's interesting, I didn't know puppies could talk. I don't want words. One bark for yes, two barks for no."

Your hips lift up off of the intrusion. "No, purple, I'm not- I-"

"Hey, hey," Master eases, rubbing your back soothingly, "it's okay, you don't need to explain. Do you want all of this to stop?" You shake your head reluctantly. Even though all you want to do if bury your head in your hands and disappear, you can't deny that his finger inside you felt unbelievably erotic. "Just that last bit?" A nod. "Are you gonna be good and let me stretch you out for me?"

You nod one last time, breathing unsteadily, shuffling a bit so that the ropes on your wrists no longer dig into your sternum, instead laying them out in front of you so that you can rest your head on the softness of your upper arm.

He puts his fingers back inside you, and you swear softly at the intrusion, the unusual pleasure that it was causing in the pit of your stomach. Although you'd been careful to muffle it against your arm, you hear him give off a warning growl, crooking his fingers inside you. You squeak and your hips waver, but he leaves it at that, and goes back to scissoring you open patiently.

You have the realization in the back of your mind that he's easing you back into things, instead of going full Master immediately, but soon your gratitude melts away with the addition of a third finger. Every breath comes in a snapped huff; you feel unable to hold your breath for longer than a second, as every movement inside you makes your toes curl. You feel your brain turn to mush when they slip out of you, and you groan lowly in protest.

Your disappointment is short-lived, however, as soon after a cool glass object is being pressed firmly into you. Your mouth falls open as you widen around it. Above you, Master rubs your ass, keeping your cheeks spread. "Silly puppy forgot her tail. Luckily I have one for her."

Your top half goes slack with resignation. Even as your cheeks light up with embarrassment at the thought of wearing a fucking tail, the widest part of the plug slips inside you and you feel so addictively full. You clench around it a couple times, shivering.

"Alright, let's get you off the table. Puppies belong on the floor."

You let him wrap his arms securely around your middle, lifting you up off the table and lowering you down onto the ground. Your knees knock painfully against the wood, but you get your bound hands down in front of you soon enough to hold yourself up.

You look up at him, at the glimmer in his eye. He grins back down at you, holding a palm out. "Stay," he commands softly, in the same tone one would use for dog training.

You wait obediently as he turns and walks down towards the filming crew in front of you, reaching into a large black box filled with equipment. On your hands and knees, you fight the urge to swivel around and look at the plug. You know you could easily see if you wanted to, and as it is you can feel something soft brushing against your cheeks, but you worry that if you saw it with your own eyes, you'd be too humiliated to continue on. You bite your lip and glance at the main camera. You can't afford to use the safe word again and end the scene, not after you've already done so much. You need this episode to go public so that you're not stuck in the camgirl scene forever.

"Good girl," Master cooes when he returns, ruffling at your hair affectionately. He crouches down in front of you and shows you a collar, a dark red, glossy leather one with a silver buckle. After the plug, this is nothing, and you simply tilt your chin to give him more room. His eyes light up with something akin to pride, and you feel your chest warm as he fastens the collar around your neck.

Once he finishes, he sits back on his heels to look you over, tucking two fingers under the leather to make sure it's not too tight. You swallow hard. You have to admit, there's something deeply satisfying about the way it feels around your neck, the way it digs in when you duck your chin. The reminder that you're his.

"Stay," he commands once more, before standing up and moving over to the other side of the room, pulling up a chair and sitting down in it. He pats his thigh. "Come."

You glance down at your bound wrists, then back up at him in question. He simply cocks his head to the side and waits, legs wide open and pants tented.

With a reluctant sigh, you begin to awkwardly hobble over to him. It's slow going, and you feel yourself blushing all the way down to your neck as the softness between your legs tickles the backs of your knees, but you force yourself forward, crawling forward as if you have three limbs, moving them one at a time, feeling the plug shift teasingly inside you the whole way.

After an age, and some seriously sore knees, you stop in between his legs, and glance up at him question.

"Good puppy," he praises, "now sit."

You do as he says promptly, hissing when the plug is pressed up into you suddenly. He laughs as you try and make yourself comfortable, sitting back on your heels.

You watch with a salivating mouth as a veined hand comes down to play at the button of his pants. He pops the button, pulls the zip down next, and silently lets you watch him with wide eyes as he pulls out his cock, knitting his dark eyebrows when he grips it loosely.

After a few self-indulgent strokes, Master looks down at you with lidded eyes, and scoots his crotch even closer to your face, his thighs on either side of your head. "I'll give you what you want, puppy, just let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours first."

You whimper. Whoever had said that the camera removes a few inches was right. Watching his series, you always knew he was big, but now that it was right in front of your face? There was no way that was fitting inside you, no matter where he tried to put that thing. Still, you open your mouth and stick your tongue slightly out, and the swear he lets out from the back of his throat makes it all worth it.

This was what you had been waiting for. The chance to make him lose himself, become just as fucked out as you were.

Master reaches down with one hand and hooks his finger underneath the collar, making it completely taut against your throat, and uses his other hand to guide his cock to rest on your tongue.

It's heavy, and the slight tang of precum has you wanting more. Risking punishment, you bat your eyelids and take initiative, lapping at his head like a dog. He lets out a guttural noise again and tips his head back. You watch with satisfaction as he swallows hard, his throat bobbing. "Oh, that's a good puppy," he praises.

With the hand tucked partly into your collar, he pushes your head down on him suddenly, and you gag around him as he forces himself to the back of your throat, but instead of letting up, he holds you there, moving his hips to increase that friction.

You force yourself to widen your mouth and breath through your nose, knowing that the more you think about it, the more your gag reflex will kick in. Gradually, Master grows more aggressive with his thrusts, until he's practically face-fucking you, and your eyes pool over with tears. Desperate to feel something to tide you over, you begin subconsciously grinding your ass against the floor, feeling the plug move inside of you, and you begin to moan on his cock, rutting yourself more to chase the feeling.

Above you, your master is moaning through clenched teeth, some of them coming out more like a growl, and his eyes are fixed on you, lidded with desire.

Finally, just when you splutter, unable to stop from choking on his cock, he tugs roughly on your collar and pulls you off of him. You gasp for air, eyes streaming and lips swollen, as he grips himself tightly to keep his orgasm at bay.

"Good girl," he praises gruffly, "good girl." Once the two of you take a few deep breaths and he comes back down from that edge, he runs a hand through his hair and grins down at you. "Puppy loves her tail, doesn't she? I saw you rubbing yourself against the floor like a horny bitch." You flush, but he just reaches down and hooks the ropes around your wrists, deftly untying them. "As promised, since you were a good little puppy for me, you can have your reward. Does puppy want the plug out first?"

You bite your lip, eyes glazing over as you consider it. You probably should. It was embarrassing having to act like a dog, and he's so big that you can't imagine they'd both fit. But then....

You shake your head. Master nods proudly. The ropes send warm lines of friction across your skin as he undoes each tie, and soon enough your arms are falling loosely apart.

"Up you get," he instructs, and you push yourself up, stressed that the plug is going to fall out even though you know realistically it's definitely snugly stuck in there. It shifts slightly as he grabs onto the tail, and uses the other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, your legs on either side of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he looks up at you. "Puppy, sit."

You bite your lip and take a steadying breath, grabbing his slick length and placing it at your entrance. Painstakingly slowly, you lower yourself down onto him, feeling him open you up inch by glorious inch. You stop halfway, panting, before a quick tug on your tail gives you the motivation to lower yourself further, until your ass cheeks rest on his thighs. The zipper will probably cause you a few rashes on the insides of your thighs by tomorrow, but for now you're so drunk on pleasure that the pain feels good too.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck, legs gone weak. You feel so unbelievably connected and close, and so full, that you can't even move. Luckily, all it takes is one strong hand cupping your ass, holding you up, for Master to begin thrusting into you.

Immediately on the first snap of his hips you cry out loudly in his ear, fingers curling around the thick metal loops on his harness like they're handles.

"Feel good?" he asks, grunting with effort as he fucks up into your pussy.

You make out half of a 'yes' before you're moaning hopelessly again, rendered incoherent by the slide of him inside you, of the wall that divides him from the plug.

"Fuck," he groans, "I've been hard as a- a fucking rock this whole time, I- I'm gonna cum soon."

You whine, secretly grateful, as each time he impales you on his cock, you feel yourself punted closer and closer to that edge. "Mmme too," you manage to make out, "s- oh, so full!"

"Yeah?" Master begins to pant lowly, using up the very last of his energy to bring the two of you to your ends. "Puppy, come."

You let out a scream and do as he says, the orgasm ripping through you violently, leaving you like dead weight on his chest as he pushes down on your ass cheeks, holding himself bottomed out in you as he releases with his own cry.

You shudder helplessly, every slight movement triggering aftershocks, your body completely lax on top of his. He rubs your ass lazily as he comes down from his high, his cum slowly leaking out of you.

"Cut!"

[finallyaniguana]

Watch The Eyes: Parisians in Gotham [10]

[9]    masterpost    ao3     [11]

Marinette knew that Lila was determined to make this trip as bad as possible for her. She wasn't sure which angle she was going for, so whatever it was, it put the heroes of Paris on edge. Everyone else may be blind to Lila's shit, but at least her partner, Adrien, was on her side. She doesn't know how she would have survived these last two years without him.

Mlle. Bustier handed out all the key cards, Marinette rooming with Alya, Juleka with Rose, Mylene with Alix, Sabrina with Chloe, and Lila in the necessary single.

'That spells bad news for someone,' she thought.

Lila's face morphed into a fake sad and scared look.

"Mlle. Bustier," she started to blubber. "You put me by myself but I'm afraid of the dark. I don't think I can stay in a strange room all by myself."

Other than Marinette and Alix, all the girls faces took up a look of concern. Alya was the first to speak.

"Oh, Lila. That's ok! I can switch with you, and you can share with..." she trailed off when she saw Marinette's expression.

There was a few beats of silence. No one else offered their spot.

'Oh, great. That someone is me.'

"No, Alya, it's fine. I'll switch with Lila and you can room together," Marinette sighed.

"Marinette, that's so sweet of you!" Lila looked close to fake tears. She grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug, her finger tips purposely digging into the smaller girls shoulders. Lila hid her wicked smile in Marinette's hair. It was a good thing Marinette was facing away from the others, as she couldn't hide her face scrunching up with distaste at the sudden unwelcome hug.

First step, isolation, completed.

Lila pulled away just as quickly, not wanting to touch the girl she disliked so much for longer than she had to. After all, how else would she win everyone over but by pretending to love someone who didn't even like her.

As much as this was a win for Lila, it was also a win for Marinette, the one who actually sacrificed for a girl she didn't like. And everyone knew that she and Lila weren't friends. That just supported Adrien's "everyday Ladybug" phrase from Hero's Day two years back. All the students on the class shot her smiles and grateful looks. Especially Alix, who has been onto Lila for quite some time. She elbowed Kim and he gave her a light shove back.

Mlle. Bustier sighed deeply. She had suspected for a long while that Lila disliked Marinette, but she hadn't a clue why. Yes, Marinette had been quick to call her a liar at the beginning but nothing has really happened since. Plenty of time to improve their relationship. But teenage girls don't work like that. Instead of voicing her long held opinion, she instead led the group of teens into the hotel and towards the floor they all had their rooms on.

The hotel was lovely even though it contained a startling amount of white. Especially considering, based on what Marinette has seen, how dark the city itself is. It was like the entire city was going though its emo phase at once. Nothing like Paris, the city of lights.

'Gotham could be the city of gargoyles,' she thought dryly.

Adrien sped up to walk beside her. He looked at her with a slight smile.

"Sorry you had to give up your room with Alya," he spoke lowly. "I don't think anyone else would have done it in your position."

She shrugged.

"As class president I have to make sure everyone is taken care of, right?" she asked sarcastically.

Adrien snorted. He gave her a pat on the shoulder before falling back to walk with Nino to their room.

Marinette and Mlle. Bustier's rooms formed a cap on either end of their group. Lila and Alya were two doors down from her while Adrien and Nino were three doors down across the hall.

Taking her luggage in her left hand, she unlocked her room and pushed the door open. It was nice, she decided. Not too much but definitely not modest. Mr. Wayne was a billionaire after all.

"Mari," Alya called.

She poked her head back out her open door.

"I'll come visit when I get settled?" she offered.

"Sounds great!" Marinette called back.

Closing the door behind her so Tikki could come out, Marinette took a few steps into her room for the next three weeks. There was a lot of white, like the lobby, accented with blue paintings and lampshades in an attempt to bring the room together. A nice closet where she immediately hung up Alya's dress. She would pass it off to her best friend when she dropped by later. A bathtub with a glass door instead of a curtain. All around a decent room.

"That was nice of you to trade with Lila," Tikki broke the silence.

"Well, I'm certain if I hadn't she would have found a way to use it against me. You know how she is."

Tikki floated over and landed on her holders shoulder while Marinette folded Nino's pocket square. She would have made one for Adrien too, but his father had insisted he wear one if his designs to the gala. Less work for her, obviously, but it would have been nice for all her closest friends to be wearing something of hers.

"This is going to be a great trip, Marinette. I'm sure everyone will have a good time and it will all be thanks to you!" the tiny goddess praised.

She was filled with a warmth that only came when receiving compliments from someone who's opinions genuinely matter. As she was unpacking her clothing, she allowed her mind to wander. Her soulmate was here. On this side of the Atlantic. In this city.

"Do you think I'm going to meet him here, Tikki?"

"Your soulmate?" she asked.

Marinette nodded.

"I think so. The timing feels right," Tikki smiled to herself fondly.

"What?" she gave the kwamii a small poke.

Giggling, she shook her head.

"It's nothing. It's just I usually get taken up by a holder later in life. I don't usually get to see a Ladybug actually meet her soulmate!"

Marinette considered that for a moment before looking at the kwamii, now floating in front of her.

"Well, I'm glad you're here. I'd don't know what I'd do without you," her warm expression slowly devolved into a pensive one.

"What's wrong," Tikki asked.

"He's a Robin. A hero. He'll have a secret identity. What if... what if we meet but he doesn't want to see me? What if he doesn't want me to know who he is?"

Tikki blinked, uncertain of how to respond.

"I guess you'll just have to see," she tried.

"And what about me? I'm a hero too. Am I able to just... trust him right off? And what about Adrien? What would I tell him about all this? I trust him more than anything, but, can I even tell him who my soulmate really is?"

Her nervous ramblings were cut off by a knock at the door, reminding Marinette that she had been putting off even telling Alya she had a soulmate for two weeks. She was most likely going to be mad for keeping a secret of this magnitude. Especially since she told Adrien.

'Well maybe she doesn't need to know that I told Adrien.'

Opening the door, her expression remained neutral, lacking her usual bright smile at the sight of her friend.

"Girl, thank you so much for compromising with Lila about the rooms. I promise I'll make it up to you!" the auburn haired girl promised.

The smile slowly returned to Marinette's face, brightening up the whole room.

"It was no big deal, Alya. I was happy to help. Oh! I have your dress ready," she remembered.

She clasped her hands together and leaned forward, "Can I see?"

She swept Alya into the room, closing the door behind her. Reaching into the closet, she pulled out a completed floor length gown. It was orange. Not bright enough to be gaudy, but enough to draw attention to the person wearing it. It was sleeveless and high neck sewn with careful embroidery, MDC in careful script along the back of the collar.

The high neck was made up of a sweetheart neckline and a low back, covered over with a sheer chiffon connected to the collar. The hand sewn embroidery had a hidden motif of foxes playing concealed among the flowers and small crystals she had painstakingly added. You could only see them if you looked closely. Another layer of chiffon layered over the orange skirt to add to the swish. Enough Rena Rouge to make Nino smile, but not enough for anyone else to be suspicious.

Alya literally screamed.

"SHHHHH! Alya!" Marinette tried to shush her.

"You made this? Girl, it's so beautiful! I can't believe I get to wear an MDC Original to this gala!" Alya spun around.

Marinette shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"You've worn my stuff before."

"But that was before! Now you're a real fancy pants designer with a name and brand!" she gushed. "You are the BEST!"

Marinette carefully passed the dress over to her friend who immediately held it up and and turned toward the mirror across from the closet. Her face had a grateful smile spreading across it.

"Thank you so much, Mari," she whispered.

Marinette'r return smile faded when she remembered the important conversation she was meant to have with her best friend.

"Alya, can you sit for a minute?" she asked quietly.

The blogger sobered at the shorter girl's serious expression. She nodded and set the dress back in the closet to be collected when she left. Hopping up on Marinette's bed, she patted the sheets beside her, inviting her to sit on her own bed. That did not garner a smile like it usually would have. And Marinette did not sit.

Standing in front of where Alya was now seated, looked her friend in the eyes.

"Two weeks ago I switched bodies with my soulmate."

She paused, waiting for a reaction. Alya just sat there, eyes wide. Taking that as her cue to continue, Marinette kept going.

"I know from the language and time difference that he is from the Americas. I know that I will be meeting him at some point within the next year. All signs point to me meeting him in Gotham, much sooner than I had originally anticipated. But it could be anyone. I didn't get to see his face. But I know for a fact he has seen yours. And Adrien's and Nino's."

After she was through with her info dump, Alya just sat there for a moment, buffering. She blinked a few times to clear her thoughts.

"Two weeks... you mean your birthday? You've known you have a soulmate since your birthday and you didn't tell me?" Alya asked.

Marinette winced.

"Yes. I have. I'm sorry I didn't tell you... but I wanted to research and figure it out myself before I really told anyone else. It wasn't my intent to shut you out purposefully."

"Is that why you've been acting all weird? We haven't hung out and you've been super serious since your birthday," she accused.

She pressed her lips together.

"I believe so. From what I could gather on the bond, which frankly was not much, each person would begin to act more and more like their soulmate up until they meet. So... I guess there's a boy out there spazzing over everything and tripping up the stairs."

Alya held back a giggle. She was still mad. But not that mad. She was happy that her friend told her at all considering how stern and blunt she had been acting. Alya was afraid she had done something wrong to elicit this reaction out of the normally sweet girl. But apparently this was all her soulmate's doing. He must be an interesting character.

"So... what's the game plan?" she asked.

Smiling gratefully at her best friend, Marinette shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess I was hoping he would find me. I don't have a lot to go on about him. It was 6 am so I couldn't see where he goes to school or who his friends are. And... I think he has a brother? But... I didn't get a good look at his face," she stumbled over her half truth.

It felt like less and less truth came out of her mouth every day.

"Well, what do you have?" Alya twisted a piece of hair around her finger.

"Not much." 'A nickname and a secret identity.'

Alya squinted at her. "Well, that's not productive."

The young designer nodded.

"I know," she said in English.

Alya was taken aback for a moment before remembering where they were. Of course her soulmate would speak English if they lived in Gotham. She nodded thoughtfully.

"I guess it's a good thing one of us speaks English."

"It's a good thing my soulmate speaks French!" Mari shot back with a smirk.

Alya laughed before cutting off with a much darker look.

"Don't think you're off the hook for not telling me."

Marinette nodded, sheepish.

The smile returned and Alya jumped up, startling her best friend. She ran to the closet and pulled out the dress again.

"Come on. I wanna show Nino!"

"Oh, I have a tie for him to match!" she went to say, but Alya was already out the door.

Marinette grabbed Nino's gift as well as her room key before following Alya's excited pace down the hall. She knocked loudly on the door. Adrien answered. He perked up when he saw that it was them, and was almost bouncing when he saw what was in Alya's hands.

"Nino!" he called into the room.

"Yeah, dud- oh. Hey, dudettes!"

Alya gave Adrien a small poke to make him let her in. Marinette followed a few seconds later. She managed to lean in and inconspicuously whisper to her partner.

"If she says anything, act like you didn't know."

Adrien looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on his face. He nodded once. Meanwhile Alya was eagerly showing off her dress to her boyfriend, who was smiling along with her. He glanced over at the other two in the room. Catching his eye, Marinette held up his complementary tie and pocket square to go with Alya's dress. His smile widened.

"Babe, look! We get to match."

"Ooooooooh! Marinette, you are a goddess."

Marinette laughed.

taglist: (CLOSED)

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@cassiejaydee

@schrodingers25

@synnesstra

I decided to give my fic a name! So all new chapters will be under that from now on and I'm also gonna go back and add it to all the previous chapters. Just my little heads up in case any of yall were confused! 😊

[thebibliomancer]

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 21

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because after that big shocking reveal last time I don’t really need another because!

Last times on book: Kylan, Naia, Amri, and Tavra are finally on their way to Ha’rar after the disappointment of finding that the firca of Gyr the Song Teller was broken. When Kylan went ahead to ask Tavra if they could take a break, he discovered she wasn’t Tavra and was colluding with the Skeksis against them! He knows but she doesn’t knows he knows! How tense!

Chapter 21

Kylan is a sweet little blue berry

When Fake-Tavra and Kylan get back to the clearing, Naia immediately insists that no matter what Tavra thinks, they need to rest.

Fake-Tavra actually draws her sword although she stops short of being actually threatening with it. Still, GEEZ FAKE TAVRA!

Its only thanks to the improbability of an imposter situation that you’ve been getting away with impostering because you are terrible at pretending to be a reasonable individual!

Kylan, who has reason to worry about whether Fake-Tavra would actually use the sword knowing that her Skeksis master is getting impatient with her, steps in.

He’s stepped between Fake Tavra and Naia so many times that he’s basically an expert at this point.

“Tavra. Listen. Amri needs shoes, or soon we’ll have to carry him, which will surely slow us down further than if we stop for just a little while.”

“It’s not my fault he decided to come. If he needs shoes so badly, he can have mine.”

Tavra reached down and tore the sandals from her feet, tossing them at the Grottan boy, who flinched at the gesture.

“That’s really not necessary,” Amri began. “Naia cut some hide from her jerkin, so...”

Geez, poor Amri. He didn’t ask to be in the middle of this drama.

Kylan deflects again because he can sense that this is argument is gonna escalate and then Fake Tavra’s gonna kick their asses.

“I got a note from Rian. It came by swoothu, early this evening. His boat was damaged by a rock in the river, and he was waylaid. He’s close by and he said he’ll wait for us if we’re near. I already told him we would meet him tomorrow evening.”

Tavra snatches the note from Kylan, looks at it, and then dunks it into the fire.

Naia looks at Kylan skeptically but he hits her with the full force of puppy dog ‘please play along’ eyes.

“Oh,” she said in a normal tone, as if she had just remembered. “So that’s what you were doing out in the wood earlier. Why didn’t you tell us right away?”

Ain’t friends who’ll back up your random lies the best?

Kylan builds up on his lie by claiming that he didn’t mention it earlier because he was worried it was secretly a secret Skeksis scheme trap.

Fake Tavra confidently says its not a trap (because she is the trap and the Skeksis wouldn’t double book).

Kylan suggests that they wait until morning and then go meet him.

Tavra stared into the fire, free hand cupping her chin in thought. He hoped she was thinking what he wanted her to think - that this opportunity was too sweet to miss. Her master wanted Rian, and this was a way she could regain favor.

He was rewarded when she sheathed her sword.

“Yes. Fit those sandals to the Shadowling. We leave first thing in the dawn.”

And then Fake Tavra sits against a tree and falls asleep. Or pretends to fall asleep?

... Huh. Y’know. With all the emphasis on the Skeksis wanting to drink Naia and Gurjin, I forgot that the inciting incident of all this was them trying to catch Rian.

With that settled, Amri turns his attention to the sandals that Tavra threw at him because he doesn’t have context for all of this and his number one priority is his aching feet.

The sandals are pretty close to his own foot size but Fake Tavra broke the cords when she ripped them off.

Kylan tells Amri he’ll fix them but first fishes the fire-resistant parchment out of the fire and hands it to Amri.

Naia comes over to talk to Kylan while he fixes the sandals, which he’s really good at because it was one of the tasks Maudra Mera taught him when he was a child.

When Kylan whispers back, he whispers loud enough for Fake Tavra to overhear. Oh, Kylan, what scheme are you up to?

“I don’t trust Tavra.” He watched the Silverling when he spoke. She did not stir. “Something about her has been all wrong since we ran into her. You remember... with the blue mouth?”

Naia frowned. “Of course I remember the blue mouth.”

Kylan chose his words as carefully as if he were telling a song. This was the most important part of all.

“Good,” he said. “Because if you remember, then you’ll understand why I want to meet with Rian in private. Tonight. I don’t want Tavra to get her hands on him... I think she’s working for the Skeksis. So, tonight, when it’s quiet, I’m going to sneak out and meet him and tell him. I’m going to tell him to go on to Ha’rar without us, and tell the All-Maudra that her daughter is a traitor.”

Kylan watches from a reaction from Fake Tavra but all he notices is that earring of hers twinkling in the fire light and he thinks it moves on its own.

HMMMMMMMM.

Naia protests Kylan having to go alone but Kylan can’t explain it without giving the game away and dreamfasting would draw Fake Tavra’s attention. Especially since she’d mentioned to her Skeksis master that she could sense it. So he has to trust Naia to trust him and figure out what his plan is. THROUGH FRIENDSHIP and shared experiences.

“Remember the blue mouth?” Kylan asked. “It was good we weren’t alone then.”

Amri had been quiet, since he likely had no idea what the blue mouth was or what it had done. In the meantime, he had uncrumpled the scrap of paper Kylan had handed him, smoothing it on his lap. Kylan focused on mending the last of the broken cord, waiting for Amri’s reaction. It came shortly: a glance of confusion, then the flicker of understanding.

Hmmm.

I have to say, I love Amri just being completely baffled at these references and deciding ‘I guess I’ll read garbage.’

I’m not sure what would be on the note that would give the game away but that also wouldn’t clue Fake Tavra in... unless Fake Tavra can’t read?

It’s been mentioned a couple times that she’s shown no interest in all the writing everywhere.

Also, I forgot what the blue mouth was supposed to be and only just vaguely remembered that its the plant that tried to eat them. I don’t think they ever call it a blue mouth? I’ve flipped back and while it had a mouth it wasn’t described as blue. But the fruit are blue. And that makes me think I know what the reference means and what Naia is supposed to take from it.

Kylan takes first watch and waits and waits and waits until he can’t waits any more.

Kylan watched the fire die in quiet, holding his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting. Though the night was the same as any other, knowing what would soon come made it seem as if he existed inside a dome of his own thoughts. His mind felt like Aughra’s observatory: constantly moving, full of things.

Stay focused, he told himself. Tell the song. It will work... it has to.

He takes off into the dark wood (not the Dark Wood although it reminds him of the night he spent then and how scared he was compared to how brave he is now and hopes if someone tells his story they remember his character development. You’re such a Song Teller, Kylan).

Since he’s listening carefully, he hears footsteps following behind him at a distance.

The follower (I mean, its Fake Tavra, there’s no ambiguity there) isn’t bothering too hard to hide.

It proved to him that she had meant it when she had called him weak, and for the first time, he smiled about it to himself.

Kylan leads Fake Tavra stalking him towards a perfect ambush zone. Just a great place with ledges and boulders and all kinds of lunging places.

And then Tavra ambushes him.

Kylan turned toward Tavra’s voice just as she shoved him against the cliffside with her forearm, pinning him with her body. In her other hand she held a short knife, but more wicked was the grin on her ghostly face. She did not look like Tavra. She did not look like a Gelfling at all.

She’s being a spooky.

She demands Kylan tell her where Rian is and when he stammers that Rian isn’t here yet, Fake Tavra declares that when Rian does arrive, he’ll find a dead Kylan.

That’s the worst welcoming gift!

ALSO yeah that little earring thing thats repeatedly had attention drawn to it in the text? Its moving? And it has eight legs?

SPIDER-TAVRA. I KNEW IT.

Oh but the real ambush is the ambush that ambushes the ambush.

Kylan ducks out of the way as a bunch of finger-vines are dumped all over Tavra. They leave Kylan alone but snare Tavra in an unbreakable grip.

Amri and Naia climb down from the ledge on the finger-vines. Ah ha! Naia’s ability to talk to plants!

“How dare you!” [Tavra] cried, but the vines near her face slithered across her mouth and silenced her. It seemed the plant did not like her, either.

Hah.

“You make quite a good little blue mouth berry,” Naia said.

Kylan chuckled.

“Sweet and small. We make the best bait.”

HAH.

Okay so the blue mouth plant with its tempting little blue fruits. And Kylan was the tempting little blue fruit in this context because he’s small and sweet. And also the one that Spider-Tavra perceived as weak and no threat.

It all comes together! Good way to draw the plot threads together, Kylan!

And good way to make that weird tree that tried to eat them woven into the narrative and not just a weird random encounter.

Much respect, J.M. Lee. You wordsmith.

The three Gelfling look on the trapped traitor.

“Now, tell us who you are and what you’ve done with Tavra,” said Naia.

YEAH.

I mean, I have a decent idea but I wouldn’t mind some exposition to fill in the gaps. We’re seventy some pages to the end and I don’t know where the rest of the plot is going! Somehow I feel that we’re not going to go to Ha’rar after all.

[steve0discusses]

The Live Action Fullmetal Alchemist Movie Part 6: Let’s Kill Hughes

Hey guys, I’ve been having some issues with the blog not...updating my drafts. So in case you’re wondering, that’s where I disappeared to. Give a round of applause to the support team for finding a solution until it gets fixed but as of right now I’m on like a private window with my extensions turned off and writing this from both tumblr and a LibreOffice document. Hello ads, nice to see you back.

Last we left off, we were a hop and skip away to lab 5. In the anime, this was a sequence where there was a bunch of fighting with suits of armor, and they kept that in this movie, but...not the people you think would be fighting are going to be fighting.

Listen I’m not like super knowledgeable about the world of Matte painting, but I like that they’ve unintentionally made this world building where whoever is in charge of making these red bricks basically owns everyone’s nuts. Everything is made out of the same red bricks. Like I know this is a show about homunculi ruling the world but I feel like the red brick guy is hellllllla more egregious. Freakin Monsanto over here.

I assume they had a 3d model and was like “we can just keep using it” and damn, they sure did. And inside of this brick building is, unsurprisingly a lot more red brick (although I think this is partially, if not entirely, an actual real life set.)

This next part is...such a lesson in pacing. Not necessarily a lesson to follow, but definitely a lesson to learn from maybe their non-example.

(watch Hughes die under the cut)

And what’s interesting is that there were a lot of good lines in this upcoming segment. There were a lot of good moments—bu there’s just so many. Maybe too many. You gotta prune your script occasionally, it’s like a tomato plant.

Like I’ve been doing a stress garden to cope with quarantine and Covid and 3+ months of life endangering wildfires, and I learned that you gotta prune the sucker vines off your tomatoes, although sucker vines can also make tomatoes. It sucks to do because I love tomatoes, and I want as many tomatoes as possible, but when you prune the plant, you get bigger better tomatoes that are more worthwhile than the suckers that can infect your plant and make it really sick.

Sorry that made me sound like 5000 years old with that gardening analogy. If you need me to solve your small town murder mysteries, I’m ready.

So it’s like...kind of tragic that it came together as kind of nonsensical when you can tell that it’s so close to being something better.

Like we have some reason up to this point to believe that Ed would have a freak out here...but like...a sobbing on the floor screaming at the walls type of freak out? Was there enough time devoted to this blow up, or did he walk into this room and immediately start screaming? Because he sure did walk immediately into this room and start screeching like a broken bird.

Like last recap, which was about 2 minutes ago in screentime, was this fun and quirky montage with Hughes. Now we’re sobbing into this rusty factory.

And I know what’s going on because I’ve seen the anime, but if you haven’t seen it—would this emotional break down make any sense? We were told by Dr Marcoh, “check out lab 5,” but we were only going to this factory on kind of a wish and a prayer. I really wonder if people who don’t know this show could follow past this point.

And then while we’re still adjusting to “yo, Ed just took it from a 2 to a 10 like immediately” Al is like “Hey I noticed no one is paying attention to me, and I have to lay a wicked fart:”

and then both brother’s just have a freak out. Gotta all be freaking out in this random ass Unity asset that was probably also used for some college grad’s first battle royale.

Pacing is just everything. And what’s SO HARD about Full Metal Alchemist is that there really is a lot of content to cover, there’s a lot of emotions to go through, and when you only have about 7 minutes to cover what was about 3-4 episodes, if I remember correctly, it’s kind of a zany mess.

And if you were going into this movie hoping they wouldn’t illustrate Al as a large idiot baby, then you share the sentiments of most people who saw this movie. Al is like...kind of reduced to a whiny big baby and is...not cute. Like Al is low key kind of menacing throughout this movie, not just because he has this CGI armor thing going on, but also because Al is...so impressionable and unhinged.

Something that I didn’t appreciate enough when I watched the anime was just how important Barry the Chopper was for Al’s logical character development.

Yo...These bangs…

...I’ve realized that every show I recap here just has the worst hair styles. I honestly never thought much about hair at all until I watched like 200 hours of Yugioh and all of this movie and also 6 seasons of Once Upon a Time which featured some LOOKS (but only recapped like 3 episodes, sorry if I got some of y’all excited. That was when we had no reason to cap everything because the capping community for Once was very alive and very exciting.)

By hitting him with a wrench (Al does not feel pain, ps, so he doesn’t need to be hunched over like this) Winry reminds Al that Ed would not risk his life for a fake brother (which may be a line from the anime or the manga but I don’t remember) and crying just...a lot.

Like it felt as if she had to shoot all of this out of order. Same with Ed’s freak out here. Movie’s aren’t really shot in succession and it’s up to the director to make it feel coherent and logical...this felt scattered, like the actors really didn’t know what was happening in the scenes leading up to it so they just cranked it to 11.

And then I guess Ed was either so insulted that Al punched him or was so upset that Al made Winry cry (again, this movie really tries to sell the EdxWinry ship and from me that’s a really big compliment), that Ed just started laying punches to extend a fight scene that was kind over before it started.

But symbolically there is a lot nice things going on here, Ed only uses his fleshy hand so he bleeds all over Al, hurting himself as much he’s hurting his brother. Implying more than just this fight, but suggesting that their whole journey of trying to find this sorcerer’s stone is just going to hurt both of them in their quest to save the other.

And then Al says something along the line of “it hurts!” to infer that he’s got this broken heart which is when they both finally just freakin stop.

Such a shame the pacing, which was a mix of too quick, and too many tomatoes, kind of made it hella blindsiding.

Again this was so many episodes of FMA and they stuffed it into so few minutes, it’s wild.

Especially since Ed is like...he’s cast as an adult! He’s an adult! At no point in the movie so far have they called him a kid, and they’re not pretending that he is one. But like...he acts like such a child because in the original, he was one. And, while this movie steps so far away from the source material, if should have committed and either stepped completely away or committed completely. Of course “should” is one of those things where we’ll just never know. A wish into the ether of hindsight being 20/20.

But lets get to the thing that you all came here for. This is where this movie gets BONKERS:

So Hughes actually draws out a pentagram between the different places in Armestrias, including Ishvaal, leading us to think that he’s figured out the whole dealio of turning the country into an alchemy circle. But, for some reason only helps him find the real lab 5.

It didn’t...that’s a different thing.

And it has been a long time since I’ve seen the ending of this movie—and maybe it was so offhand that I forgot if they actually do bring up turning the country into an alchemy circle--watch me eat my words, it could happen—but yo, we are finally killing Hughes—but we’re over halfway through this movie. And you may wonder...so uh...what...then what could possibly happen? There’s too much anime left!

Now I’m glad they kept this scene really close to the anime, although I haven’t watched the anime in a hot minute. It’s kind of an iconic scene so you don’t forget.

Like I do genuinely enjoy the campy parts where they were bringing up some of my favorite nostalgia of the original.

and then when you are like “ah, this is exactly the same as the anime. I can relax and watch as all my expectations are fully realized.” This twist happens.

YAH.

It’s a change!

So in the anime we had a really fun arc where we were trying to save Lieutenant Ross for being framed for killing Hughes. It’s probably my favorite part of Full Metal Alchemist, actually, it was so clever and a really thrilling chase. It was also like...half of season one.

Anyway, they cut it. They reduced half a season into 7 minutes. I know that, because each of these recaps is about 15 minutes of the movie.

You may look at this recap and be like “wait...this all happened in 15 minutes??” because yeah, this all happened in 15 minutes.

The same squad of people we see in every single scene of soldiers comes up to arrest Ed, which is weird, because I thought this band of soldiers was the military under Cl. Mustang’s command so like…shouldn’t they be arresting themselves? Mustang was over the command of more than 2 people. If we are suspicious of Mustang’s buddies then everyone in this movie would be in trouble.

And that’s when I realized that these guys were just unnamed soldiers and not a part of Mustang’s band. They only had like this many extras and just hoped we wouldn’t keep track of who is who, but I KNOW I’ve seen these guys this whole time. There are only like 6 people in this army. I see you movie magic—I see what you’re trying to do.

Anyway, Ed gets thrown into an old timey opera house that occasionally gets to be used for Middle School graduations. Or maybe also a mortuary where they charge you for funerals.

Like I know it’s supposed to be the capital building but like...this looks so weird when it’s live action. I remember the anime had this kinda feel to it but in live action it’s like…

...this is a weird ass capital building…Why do they have curtains like a Granny Holiday Inn in Reno, Nevada?

Thankfully, Hawkeye is here to explain to Ed what just happened because we, the movie viewers, were kind of surprised by that plot twist.

Like there were many ways you can condense half a season into 15 minutes, and I dunno if I would have just changed the murderer. It is a solution you can do. You can just point blame on Mustang and skip that whole Ross segment but like….

…then why write the movie?

Obviously, they had to make the movie, it had already been funded, people were really excited about the idea, and I do not envy the people that had to hack and slash with the Full Metal Alchemist script, but it is interesting what they decided was important to the original content, and what was unimportant. All that stuff that showed how Mustang was brilliant and two steps ahead of everyone else? Unimportant. All that stuff we had that showed how Mustang cares a lot about protecting other people and also cares about Ed and Al? Unimportant.

It really changes the dynamic, and it’s kind of fascinating to go into this cold because it’s been like...a year for me since I’ve watched it...and just see how different everything is without all those supporting characters that when I watched the anime I just assumed were mostly useless (Though fun). Turns out they all had a pretty significant part of making me care about Ed, about Mustang, about Al, about all my main characters.

FMA is very character driven, and this movie is mostly just...plot driven.  There’s kind of a great debate in literature about plot driven vs character driven. Movies and TV tend to be very plot driven, because they are very expensive to make, so they follow pre-formatted plot beats like “Save the Cat” or “The Heroes Journey” and other ones (there’s several to choose from).

They’ve made a fine science out of at what point a TV show should introduce the main, at what point they should suffer doubt, at what point they should shun their hero’s journey, etc etc. They know it down to the page number of the scripts they are writing. I know this, because it’s readily available on the internet and people fight about it all the time. This is why a show may suffer developing a character—because they just don’t have time and they just don’t have the resources to do something out of the box. Movies doubly so, because every minute of film can cost thousands of dollars.

What’s interesting about this is that FMA, the original FMA, does follow these beats. It was a manga sold by a huge publisher so it had to follow those beats. But, it has managed to do it while still being character driven. Yo, that’s so hard to do. This story was already written to be hyper condensed and structured when it was made into a Manga, and then it was condensed again for an anime, and then it was condensed yet again for this movie. It’s like a game of telephone, and at one end you have a very character driven story, and then at the other, it’s just totally plot.

Like it’s just a really huge risk to take. This was really, really risky.

PS did you miss Shou? Did you think we’d be done with Shou Tucker? No. Because this movie is gonna end at some point and rather than introduce other people...we’re just gonna stick with Shou and only have one miniboss.

(It has a freakin radiator in it?)

So then this next part happens and it’s low key hilarious.

The whole time.

Mustang and Hawkeye knew what lab 5 was this entire time but Ed just never asked for some reason despite working with those two for what is inferred to be YEARS since his childhood.

Hey PS, did you miss that brick building? Because it’s back.

Anyway, Mustang decides to take this underground where we can recycle the tech crew posing as extras that we used in the shot above us. Would not be surprised if a few of these are someone’s husband or wife on set.

Usually when I watch a movie I don’t get this feeling so much. But this movie...the latter half is like...EMPTY.

...this is going to be all movies made during Covid, I just realized…

Mustang is stopped by an angry Lieutenant Ross, and then we get this series of events.

And when you’re like “...Sorry?” Mustang’s like “I can make it weirder.”

And he just, without any warning or anything, lights Lieutenant Ross on fire. Multiple times, and it’s pretty intense and everyone who’s holding a gun just watches it happen is like…

...well I guess it’s too late to just shoot the guy...

…and like do you seriously not carry around a fire extinguisher when you are trying to manhunt Mustang? This is the one guy you want to wear fireproof clothes around. You have the technology. You at least have the technology for buckets of water. Like no one want to throw a blanket on her?

Just want to...watch? I guess?

Mustang just looks like a nut from this series of events instead of a genius--which is what I think they were originally going for. The pacing does that, youknow? Pacing.

And, out of the corpse pile stands Envy.

Envy has a pretty good look, I appreciated his whole look and that unlike the anime where you only find out Envy is a guy because someone told you on a forum somewhere and you were like “wait WHAT?” the movie is live action so you won’t make that mistake and embarrass yourself online.

Ed has only ever seen Lust once, and she walked in from off screen, stabbed a guy, and walked off. He’s just like...having a time because he’s done zero research into homunculi, and really, at no point in this movie are we going to give him time to figure it out.

Also, there’s this shot where Lust and Gluttony just walk in from behind them in the tunnel and it’s like…

….so no one noticed these two just hanging out back there?

It’s so freakin funny. This movie is gold. I love it.

Now If you just got here, this is a link to read all these recaps in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/fma/chrono

Have a good one, and stay safe! 2021 has been...weird nuts...and it’s still January somehow??? Weird times. Overall, please stay safe, it’s weird out there.

Also, if you’re like “I don’t remember this scene actually” here’s the original Hughes dies scene that inspired the movie (since the movie definitely was like “we’re only going inspired for this one nerds, get mad”)--some shots were inspired cut for cut.

And obvi this is on Youtube so it’ll probably get taken down eventually, but that’s why it’s flipped.

[iwroteinapastlife]

Least Favorite

Hey everyone! This is a little extra from my ChloNath fake dating fic, Honey I’m Home, but it also functions as a standalone oneshot for those who haven’t read HIH. Enjoy!

Warning: Contains detailed descriptions of blood.

--

He had painted her numerous times, but not like this. Running a thumb coated in gold down her cheek, yellow and black dipped fingers over her neck. He’d never kissed a canvas before. His canvas had never kissed him before. Whispered his name before.

Nathaniel.

Laid across his chest, restricting his breathing before.

“Nathaniel.” ...Or shaken his shoulder, jolting him from sleep before. “Wake up.”

Nathaniel blinked tired eyes, vision blurry from the mess of blonde hair draped across his face. He pulled it back to find a dark room, only dimly lit by the first dull hints of light peeking out from behind the curtains.

“Chloé?” he asked groggily. “What time is it?”

She was already partially on top of him, but he wheezed as Chloé leaned further forward across his chest to check the alarm clock on the other side of the bed. “5:03.” He opened his mouth to complain but before he could, she was talking over him. “How many drawings do you have of me?”

He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut a couple times as if that could clear the fog in his head. He felt like he was missing something. “What?”

“How many drawings do you have of me?” she repeated, voice more insistent. “Or paintings, or pastels, or whatever.”

Nathaniel blinked up at the woman hovering over him, watching him with an expression that was far too awake, alert, and inquisitive for this god awful hour. His brain was moving slowly, he knew it was, but no, he wasn’t missing anything. It was just Chloé being Chloé. “The sun’s not even up yet. Why are you awake?”

“Dunno,” she shrugged, brushing past him. “Answer the question. How many? It’s more than I’ve seen, isn’t it?” Nathaniel pressed his lips together, glaring at her. A knowing smile spread across her lips. “It is; I knew it. How many?”

“...I don’t know.”

She drummed her hand on his chest persistently. “Aw come on, tell me.”

Nathaniel rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead and let out a long sigh, resigning himself to the world of the living. “I’m serious,” he admitted. “Too many to count.”

Any embarrassment he might have had to confess such a thing melted under the light of that smile. “Show me,” she said, still a demand, but speaking the slightest bit softer.

“Okay.”

It took about five seconds of her watching him expectantly to realize, “You mean right now, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Nathaniel frowned at her, but he knew it was pointless. Both of them knew he would do anything for that stupidly beautiful face. She knew he would do anything for that stupidly beautiful face. Even cater to her random demands at the crack of dawn.

Five minutes later Nathaniel found himself sitting in front of his computer with Chloé on his lap, one arm around her waist while the other maneuvered the mouse to pull up his art folders. He double clicked the folder titled Her Majesty then handed over the reins. As Chloé leaned forward to scroll through the various files, he rested his forehead against her back and closed his eyes, a small but powerful portion of him still hopelessly clinging to the notion of sleep.

“What even are these titles? A-l-k-s-d-f-j-a-l-s-k,” he huffed a small laugh as she read out each individual letter in the keyboard smash, “bees, bees question mark, bees and honey, go to sleep, gothefucktosleep—all one word—hella gangsta…” a pause as she scrolled further down, “oh and here’s just a sea of wips. Wip 14, wip 178, wip 389, wip 509—Jeez how many works in progress can you have?”

“A lot,” he responded, voice muffled by her shirt—well, his shirt, just on her.

“How do you even keep track of anything this way? There’s no organization system, no order; it’s just complete chaos. You don’t even have unfinished works separate from the finished ones!”

“Excuse me,” he grumbled, “I agreed to show you my art, not have my system criticized at five in the morning.”

“I’m serious though, how do you not lose track of everything?”

He shrugged. “It works for me.”

Even if he wasn’t looking, he knew she was shaking her head. “Absolute madness.”

A comfortable silence finally settled over them as Chloé began actually opening up images to look at them. He breathed slow and deep, sinking himself in the lingering scent of her perfume from yesterday. The sound of clicking slowly grew more and more distant as the comforting beat of her heart took over, the peaceful lull of sleep seeping back into his body.

Right as his mind was starting to cross over into dream mode, Chloé’s voice shattered the silence, waking him again with a tiny shock. “Show me your least favorite drawing of me.”

“What?”

“Your least favorite. The worst one. I want to know.”

“Why?”

“Because I do,” she replied simply, as if that should be self-evident. She twisted to look at him, forcing Nathaniel to pick up his head and open his eyes again. He frowned at her expectant look. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pressed his lips together, his frown only deepening. She narrowed her eyes, giving him an inquisitive smirk. “Is it dirty?”

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“You have dirty ones though, don’t you?”

“N—,” he paused as he thought. “…No.”

A wicked grin spread across her lips. “What was that hesitation, Nathaniel?”

“I don’t have any dirty drawings of you.”

“But you have something.”

Two seconds of staring, a battle of wills. He was—unfortunately—very weak. Nathaniel sighed and leaned forward, taking the mouse. He scrolled until he found the file titled Summer Heat.

“Ooh.” She leaned forward to inspect it as he dropped his head against her back again, this time more so trying to hide his embarrassment than fall back asleep.

The drawing wasn’t dirty, but he would be lying if he claimed it wasn’t created in the passion of heat and desire. It was pinup style, featuring a practically glowing Chloé seated on the hood of a car—fashioned after Bumblebee from Transformers, naturally. She had one leg pulled up to rest her elbow on while the other leg extended down toward the ground. From the arm resting on her knee she held a cherry red lollipop up to matching lips that were parted in a seductive smirk. She wore a yellow and black striped T-shirt tucked into black high waisted shorts that really didn’t offer much coverage of her thighs, and draped over one shoulder was a black leather jacket with a patch on the sleeve depicting a bee with a crown.  Light shined off of everything—the gold buttons on her shorts, the gloss on her lips, the sheen on her skin—serving to accentuate her every curve and the sweat slicked heat of the summer sun.

“Wow,” she said. “I’m hot.”

Nathaniel huffed a laugh more out of relief than anything. “Yes you are. And it was really hot that day, and I… Yeah.” He even had her hair pulled back in the exact yellow bow she had been wearing  at the time.

“I should get a pair of shorts like that…” she mused.

“No, you really shouldn’t.” Or I will die; please have mercy.

She giggled and he got the distinct impression that she was going to actively seek out those shorts now.

“Alright, now show me your least favorite.”

“…No.”

“Come ooooon,” she groaned, twisting toward him again. He frowned, blinking tired eyes up at her. “I doubt it’s as bad as you think.”

“It’s not that it’s bad, it’s…” He bit the inside of his cheek, unsure how to finish that sentence.

After a few seconds with no answer, Chloé squeezed his arm gently. “Come on, show me.”

He stared up at curious eyes in a dark room, the only light that of the screen behind her, outlining her figure in a heavenly glow. She was radiant, beautiful, breathtaking, and he was so helpless to do anything but her every bidding. As he watched her this time—looking back and forth between those eyes that absolutely owned everything that he was—it was less a test of will, and more a question of how stubbornly he would deny her in order to keep from making old scars fresh for the both of them.

The gaze that looked back was patient, but adamant. Somehow, she knew this wasn’t a battle of will, but a battle she would win nonetheless.

Would he ever learn to say no to her?

With a long breath out, Nathaniel finally released what was left of his resistance and took the mouse. He didn’t look when he opened up the file. He didn’t need to. Despite giving it physical form, the image it seemed would forever be etched into his mind in full, painstaking detail.

“Oh,” she whispered as she leaned forward. Nathaniel rested the side of his head against her, pressing his ear to her back to listen to that reassuring heartbeat as he wrapped a second arm around her and pulled her close. “This is...real.”

It was a complete work, and objectively speaking probably one of his best. The details and shading were as fleshed out as his artwork got, complete with every tiny speck of dirt on her skin, every stray strand of hair. Every drop of blood. The piece was entirely greyscale with the exception of the blood—bright awful vibrant red pooling at her waist, soaking her shirt, painting her hand. Smudges of it colored his own hand where it sat atop hers, holding pressure to the wound to keep her from bleeding out right there in that alley.

His other hand held her head, fingers tangled through long locks, knotted and frizzy and loose from her usual ponytail. Decorating her cheek were two drops of water where his tears had fallen, and worst of all were the eyes. Eyes that were usually so bright, so fiery, so spirited, were instead emotionless, dull—not quite lifeless, but tired and void as they looked up at him with that excruciating blank stare.

He hated it. He couldn’t stand to look at the image and he hadn’t since finishing it and putting it away. Making it in the first place was utter hell. Every stroke of his stylus pained him. He felt like he was the one cutting into her flesh, as if he were the cause of her injury. He was hurting her—hurting Chloé held in his own arms on the screen.

He could feel the scar under his palm where it rested on her waist now.

“I didn’t want to make it in the first place,” he murmured. Her hand settled over his, fingers delicately brushing the backs of his knuckles. “It was stuck in my head for weeks. It wouldn’t go away, even after you stabilized, even after you were out of the hospital, even after you were already up in the air again. It was just there, burned into my mind’s eye at all times, the scene playing over and over and… I finally made this just to...get rid of it. Give it physical form so it could be put away.”

“I get why you didn’t want to show me now,” she whispered. Then a tiny breath of laughter. “And why you didn’t want to leave the hospital. I mean… Did I really look so…?” She never finished that sentence, but he could fill in the unspoken word on the end.

“Yeah.”

She stared at the image for a few more seconds before closing out of it. Nathaniel picked up his head again as she turned to face him, and was relieved to find her still just as at ease as she was before. If seeing herself near death had shaken her at all, it didn’t show.

Cold fingers combed back hair from his forehead. “I never thanked you.”

“For what?”

“What do you think, idiot?” Even if her words were aggressive, her tone was anything but. She spoke softly, with the gentlest hint of laughter in her voice. “For saving my life.”

“I don’t thank you every time you save my life, or all of Paris,” he rebuked.

She immediately rolled her eyes, an amused sort of annoyance taking to her face. “Yeah, but that’s my job.”

He felt a calm smile returning to his lips. “Yeah, and being your sidekick is mine.”

“Oh I see.” She shifted her position so she sat perpendicular to him and draped an arm over his shoulder. His hands naturally settled at her hips. “So I’m just a job to you.”

Nathaniel found his face tilting upward in automatic response to the way Chloé inclined her head, an intimate space coming into existence between them complete with the magnetic draw of gravity itself. “Of course,” he responded, matching her sarcasm with his own, but still not breaking the quiet of the moment, “what else could you ever possibly be to me?”

Her second hand brushed more loose hair behind his ear before settling at the base of his neck. “Certainly nothing romantic. I mean, look at us.” She was speaking in a low murmur now that sent a subtle but powerful spark down the length of his spine. His thumbs dipped under the hem of her shirt as she leaned in closer. A strand of her hair tickled his collarbone. Whispered words brushed his lips. “There’s no chemistry here.”

Even if they had been dating for five months, Nathaniel still wasn’t used to Chloé’s kiss—her real kiss. The kiss that was only shared with him behind closed doors in the intimacy of private spaces. The kiss that felt like a dance with fire itself and left him breathless every time.

She was absolute rapture thinly contained in a work of art.

The whispered words were out of his mouth before his thoughts could even place them. “I love you.”

“Good,” she whispered back. Her forehead rested against his, fingers steadily combing back his hair. “Because I love you too.”