#But would love to see her maybe be a little ditzy like she's really bad with directions or something

[celtrist]

Let's make our own fate

Needed practice with Alastor's colors before going at it with the wip piece I have (which ironically enough is another red string of fate piece). But while I do oh so enjoy Alastor being an independent mammal who doesn't need no mate, I 100% still have fun shipping with him myself from time to time. And this ship is probably my favorite with him (and y'know what, you can take this as a QPR thing or romance thing, why not?)! And, might I add, severely underrated when it has elements of radiobelle, radioapple, and radiostatic (in terms of colors at least) wrapped up together- HOW ARE PEOPLE SLEEPING ON THIS SHIP HELLO???

Joking aside, Emily and Alastor are in a weird place for me where I like them in this ship dynamic (QPR or romantic), but I also like them in a dynamic similar to what Alastor and Charlie have if you're going the mentor-protege route or parent-child route. Which is a very strange to like those two very opposing dynamics (primarily the lovey dovey and parent-child aspects because y'know... )

I don't imagine these two will really interact much in canon, but I really would love to see how their interactions would go down and if they'd be at all different from how Charlie and Alastor interact (seeing as Emily and Charlie are a wee bit similar y'know?)

[recreationalfanfics]

Hiya! So happy to see another loki fan!

Could you do him and a bubbly, optimistic y/n! Real puppy dog energy, but she's also kind of clever. Like people underestimate her because they think shes ditzy, maybe loki did at first too, but she really just sees the bright side of stuff and is high energy, so they're actually really smart!

Srry this was so long!!! Have a great day!

YES! I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH THANK YOU♡

- CONSIDERING THE EGO OF THIS MAN, HE DEFINETLY HAD THE GALL TO UNDERESTIMATE YOU. I mean, look at you. So bright eyed and happy, you were chatting with your fellow peers and your enemies alike knowing full well you're entering this contest that will costs the lives of many people.

- He thought you were niave really or maybe just really stupid. I mean, you often got lost in the arena, you were so unaware of your surroundings at times that you would just casually walk into objects and then proceeded to apologize to them, and overall seemed so happy and enthusiastic even though you were losing.

- He never saw your frown fall and he always found that interesting, as your fellow human was sent to Niflhiem, there was no sadness in your eyes. Obviously no one else noticed because they were too busy grieving but Loki did and thats how his interest in you starts.

- One day he corners you to ask about why you smiled despite the fact that it looked like humanity was doomed. No one knows what happened, Brunhilde just watched as you walked away and Loki followed you.

- Since then, people are so baffled by how close you and the God of Mischief are now. The way you two started talking to one another as if you weren't on completely opposite sides, decorating his nails with nail polish that you somehow acquired, and overall just glued to the hip.

- Sometimes you're a bit clumsy, like when your eyes light up when you look at Loki and run over to him, only to trip over your own feet but he just teleports and grabs you by your waist by teasing you about how clumsy you are.

- You always find his tricks amusing and even let him know what he could do to make them even "funnier", you're the only person who actually has a sense of humor because while Ragnarok was fun, everyone was so terribly serious sometimes but at least you knew how to have a little fun.

- Loves how openly affectionate you are with him, he is pretty touchy but not obnoxiously so, yeah he'll have his arms wrapped around you here and there but you're the one who just grabs his face when he floats upside down and covers it kisses or playing with his hair absentmindedly as he tells you about his latest prank he pulled.

- He also never really annoys you, even when he is being a little mean at times. The gods see it go over your head and they feel bad for you but they don't actually know when he says passive-aggressive things, you're not really bothered because you know he's a sore loser and you had just finished beating him in a game that you were simply too good at. He never goes too far but its clear he's still sulking.

- The gods aren't sure how but you've somehow managed to get Loki wrapped around your little finger almost as much as you're wrapped around his. Some gods admit that it's strange to see Loki so absent but they assume that he's just manipulating you and you just happen to be the new toy he's playing with since you seem like you mean well, but they also don't think you're all that bright.

- That doesn't mean that they don't enjoy your company, you're very fun to talk to but conversations are always cut short because of Loki's possessiveness.

- He especially hates it when Hermes mentions some boring fact about Greece and what it was like back in the day and somehow you get interested and start asking him questions and Loki just rolls his eyes in annoyance as this conversation goes on for LONGER THAN HE WANTS IT TOO.

- Zeus gets curious as to why Brunhilde lets you near the God's so much or why she let's you near Loki in general.

- Zeus: "If I were you, I'd be very concerned or at the very least, pick a new champion. Who knows what sick game Loki is playing at?"

- Brunhilde can't resist that mischievous smile and looks at Zeus with a raised eyebrow, "Really? I don't think they're really playing any games with each other and even if they were, Loki wouldn't be the one I was worried about."

The day of your fight came, everyone felt bad for you because the Gods had pitted you against their wisest diety. The humans weeped, after all, you were such a delightful soul but you stood know chance against such a revered and knowledgeable God. Göll was horrified as she started to tear up, you had become something like a big sister too her in your time here. Always comforting her after she lost her sisters and reassuring her that their sacrifices won't be in vain.

"I-I...We can't lose her too, Brunhilde!" Göll weeded. Bruhilde looked at you as you entered the ring, the both of you sharing a crimson smile.

"We won't, Göll." She assured.

While Heimdall was doing introductions, Loki was floating upside down and kicking his feet excitedly when you walked out. It wasn't uncommon for him to switch sides but for the first time since Ragnarok started, he was rooting for the humans.

"You seem quite happy. Aren't you worried about her?" Hermes noted. Loki turned his head towards him slightly: "Hmm? No. Not really. Why?"

Shiva speaks up, "Hey, I like that little mortal as much as the next God but she's...kinda out of her league this round, isn't she? I mean...look at who they're going against."

The round starts and your battlefield takes place in a clock tower where gears grinded and other mechanics clanked and clacked loudly. Your opponent looks at you smugly as you play with your divine weapon, a bouncing ball.

"I know, I feel bad for the poor God." Loki snickered, "After all, she's is quite clever when she wants to be~"

The very first thing you do, much to everyone's surprise, is throw your ball into one of the gears. The God against you taunts you for creating such a dumb mistake and you just smile at them, shrugging your shoulders carelessly.

"I can't watch this." Shiva groans, looking away. The green haired God smiled: "Aw, but you're gonna miss the good part!"

As they charge at you, you seem completely unbothered, standing still in one place. As they went to attack you, something sounds like it breaks and one of the giant gears hits the God into the side of the arena. Sending them crashing into the other gears, they try to shake it off and go after you again but realizes that one of their garments is caught in the gears, causing them to stay stuck.

Everyone watches from the screen and the God's can sense something is about to happen.

"What on Earth is going on?" Aphrodite frowned, confused as to why you haven't done ANYTHING to attack. Thor looks at Loki and narrows his eyes: "What did you mean by she was clever earlier?"

"Exactly what I said. Wisdom is fun and all if you're boring, you can know everything all you want. But cleverness is all about using the area and everything around you. Sometimes even the people." Loki smirked as he looked at the other Gods.

During your fight, the God still hasn't been able to get loose and your ball that was stopping the two gears from moving couldn't handle the pressure of being squeezed into two different directions before it finally shot out of the gears and directly at the God. With such force that their body which was struggling to be untangled now went limp and everyone gasped, the ball now having created a clean hole through the God's chest. You tilted your head as you looked at the camera, directly towards Brunhilde.

"Was that really it? I've had checkers matches that lasted longer."

The gods are horrified, unable to comprehend how their colleague could have been beaten so easily by a human like you. Meanwhile when humanity recovered from the shock, they cheered with such ferocity and excitement as you walked out of the stadium, your valkyrie appearing beside you and suffering from a killer headache and you apologized sweetly but congratulated her for being such an awesome partner.

"W-What just happened!?" Ares demanded, turning around to glare at the God of Mischief, "DID YOU HELP HER!?"

"Hmm? Oh, nah. She did it all by herself, can you believe that?" Loki grinned. Zeus grabbed him by his shoulder warningly: "Loki...if I found out you betrayed us for a mortal-"

Loki looked shocked but then laughed, his hand covering his mouth and tears nearly forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Please, don't tell me you didn't notice anything off about (Y/n)? Even I knew it but I thought you'd all see it. Although, I can't blame you, she nearly had me fooled." He sang in a know it all manner, "That's why I went to talk to her after Adam's match, after all, she was so chipper...a bit too happy. You know what she told me that day when I asked her why?"

The Gods all stayed silent, Loki kept them in suspense before quoting those exact words you told him: "that she couldn't wait to see the look on your faces when she avenged her friends."

They looked at him and then at you, who was now waving at the cameras and even blew a kiss at where Loki was.

"She...She was acting the whole time?" Hermes frowned.

"You knew?" Odin finally spoke up, rising to his full height and standing in front of Loki. Loki only lowered himself onto his chair and brought his knees to his chest, "I wasn't sure. After all, she complimented my boots right after so I assumed it was her optimism but I had my suspicions. I didn't know for sure until this battle. It's terrifying, isn't it? How she played us into just giving her a win on a silver platter."

Loki then bit his nail with a smile, a blush on his face growing as the Gods were realizing how you'd play them for fools the entire time.

"She's so perfect.♡"

[artdcnaldson]

oh i know we're on the topic of best friends sisters and whatnot but can i offer an absolutely out of left field alternative? best friends brother with dodge

as in ur daynas friend from high school, u guys have always been pretty close, but dodge hasn't seen u since they moved away, but now they're back and ur in his living room and oh shit, uve grown up. i mean, he has too, obviously, he graduated high school, hes taller and stronger and over that awkward gangly teen phase he was in when you met him. but you. u wear shorts, around his place, those ripped denim ones with the fraying hems that show off the glimpse of a waistband of pretty pink panties. and tank tops, sheer, tight tanks to fight the scorching texas heat. and you laze around his house like youve always done, drinking his sweet tea and eating his food, chatting with his older sister about things he does it care about.

and you're cool, and older, and pretty, and interesting, and hes so surprised to hear about how youre single (from dayna, in passing), a string of bad exes behind you. cheaters and losers and broke idiots. dodge would never do that to u. dodge would treat you right. like a real man should. dodge would make you feel really fucking good. and hes determined to prove it to you.

-kit (going insane)

YEAHHHHHHH

Sigh whenever I think abt any dodge AUs I just want to lean heavy into small town aspirations that fail and send you right back to where you started. Maybe you leave the city for Dallas, or a suburb of it, auditioning to be a cheerleader for the Cowboys. You were the cheer captain back in Carp, but things are different in cities with a population over 5k.

So you come back, work at the salon in town painting nails. It’s the perfect job— all gossipy, surrounded by the sweet smell of lotions and shampoo.

Maybe you have a reputation around town for dressing kind of skanky, for being a little ditzy. Rumors of you stealing husbands and boyfriends (untrue!). But Dayna was your friend in high school, and she’s still your friend now. One of your last remaining ones in Carp. So you lounge around their house, spilling all the gossip you learned from work in his sister’s ear, giving her free manicures in the house since the salon on Main Street isn’t wheel chair accessible.

“I can do your nails, Dodge,” you offer with a pretty smile. “Just clean ‘em up a bit. Half the men in town come to get manicures from me.”

He makes a face, lips twitching into a grin. “I don’t need my nails to be hooker red, thank you.”

You shrug, apply another coat of pale pink on Dana’s nails. “Bring ‘em over here. I wanna see.”

He sighs and takes a few ambling steps towards you. When he’s close enough, you grab his hand and hold it up to the light. Your nose wrinkles, and you raise a dissatisfied brow.

“Hands say a lot about someone,” you say as you trace your fingers along the back of his hand, then the rough, work-worn palms and fingertips. “Wanna know what yours say?”

He makes a face, but concedes. He’s handsome, grown up a lot in the two years since you left for Dallas. Nineteen now, more sure of himself. More muscular? Jesus, the rodeo had been treating him right. “Sure. Why not?”

Your thumb strokes over the back of his hand. “They’re rough. These are a workers hands. They say you know how to take care of the people you love. That you’re real hands on.” You pause, grin. “But the dirt under your nails… that tells me that you aren’t taking care of any ladies.”

His cheeks turn pink as you and Dayna grin, and he forces a sarcastic laugh as he pulls his hands back. “Wow. Thanks.”

You meet his gaze and offer a pretty smile. “Really, let me clean your hands up sometime. I’ll bring you Whataburger, or Sonic, or Dairy Queen.”

He laughs despite himself, shrugs. “Maybe.”

Dayna slaps your arm once Dodge slips away to his bedroom. “Stop hitting on my little brother. Its weird.”

You grin, but say nothing.

It’s a week later that you’re back in his living room without Dayna in sight. You’re holding a bag of Whataburger, sprawled across the couch. “Can I do your nails?”

How can he say no?

————

@gamesetart this took forever but I need him <3 I love this concept it’s so fun

[sentimuse]

Ever After High X Twisted Wonderland.

I was high when I made this please forgive the babble. I needed it to be said.

OKay so arguably the TWSTverse goes the best with the EAHverse. I may rant about Descendants later but lemme get this out first via Headcanon.

Riddle Rosehearts:

Pre OB! Royal Post OB! Rebel

The hedgehogs get along.

He and Lizzie have an odd relationship. They both have mommy issues but they both want to live up to their mothers' standards. Riddle has a hyperfixation for her mom and a deep seeded pride regarding her, that gets strained when he and Lizzie commiserate about shitty moms. Lizzie feels weird cuz he's nice but he idolizes her mom and that's awkward when you both have bad moms you still love in a strained almost begrudging way. They're good friends but don't seem like it due to the awkwardness of it all

He really gets along with Kitty and Maddie. Strangely Maddie is the one that reminds him of Che'Nya (Kitty does too because duh but personality wise). Always talking in riddles and rhymes but still a very good friend.

Gets introduced to Ginger via Trey and has to fight himself internally to not fucking ask for a strawberry tart from her. He's genuinely curious as to what it tastes like but knows that Trey would grill his ass into knowing which one was better and would face Dorm Card Trey Consequences. 

Trey Clover:

Rebel and always has been.

He's great friends with Lizzie due to her being kinda just a tamer Riddle.

Friends with Kitty and Maddie as well.

Has had baking contests with Ginger. (Friendly? maybe.)

Midkey respects Daring for having that pearly white of teeth. He's a little jealous, but Trey has the leg up because Daring is kinda vapid.

Is weirdly close with Mad Hatter cuz Trey is always able to concoct whatever weird flavor he's asked for.

Cater Diamond:

He's a Rebel 4lifer

He and Goldie are fucking ride or die besties. Swapping influencer tips? Yes. I bet they even got matching endorsements.

Him and Maddie are besties but not as much. He likes how bubbly she is.

Cater also really gets along with Briar and they're able to connect a little about insecurities and socializing stress.

Cater would fucking love it here everything is so aesthetic and his Magicam would blow tf up plus he's so girlie pop I don't think the transition would be that hard for him. He fits in really well.

Deuce Spade:

Rebel 

NGL him and Ace also fit into EAH really well they're good people (most of the time) and their flaws are light hearted enough to survive transplanting. Deuce is just a lil ditzy and has some anger issues but really loves his mom and baby chickens??? Just a little guy energy.

He would get along well with Cerise imo. Their vibes are similar to me, that is the best explanation I have.

Probably has a crush on Raven he also relates somewhat to the bad past but wants to be good things.

Ace Trappola:

Rebel

Ace is a shitter. Fucking asshole goofster. But he has a pretty decent head on his shoulders.

Really gets along with Kitty being two shitsers.

Strangely good friends with Lizzie. I mean if you're gonna rule at least be fair yeah?

Epel Felmier:

Rebel

He's absolute BESTIES with Darling. Because they're both feminine and want to break out of what life has assigned them. 

He's also pretty tight with Cedar.

Wants to be friends with Ramona so so so so so fucking bad.

Vil Schoenheit:

I hate to say it but my man is a centrist.

He understands and respects the audacity the royals have to think they can force others into roles they aren't meant for. However that's kinda his whole fucking issue in life. He doesn't mind some of the Royals, Apple is certainly more bearable than Neige and I'm certain that Vil can see right through her.

Sympathizes with Apple honestly. He'd want to like this Evil Queen and has pointed out her good points like being strong at magic and a good manipulator but also she's kinda a bitch so womp womp.

Totally gets along with Raven he's like the midpoint between the two.

Is very annoyed by Goldie.

Hangs out with Cupid and Rook sometimes. 

Good friends with and commiserates with Duchess.

Rook Hunt:

Rebel ofc bb

Bro if so girly pop and hangs out with Cupid. They go on about pretty things and love together. He and Vil encourage her to go after Dexter.

He's aloof enough to fit into the EAH verse.

Does his rounds with the cast susing them out. Has the Leona infatuation with Ramona. 

Isn't fond of Goldie she's too keen to pry into his life.

Idia Shroud:

Is a Doomer Royal with Rebel sentiments.

Bro is maybe too sad for EAH but the books are a lil kwazy soo…

He hangs out with the gamer boys sometimes like Humphrey and Dexter if he has to socialize.

Would rather hang with Ortho but Ortho is hanging out with Cedar.

Fucking hates it here.

Ortho Shroud:

Bro fucking LOVES it here. Absolute Rebel.

He and Cedar are FAST FAST friends for being non human humans.

Loves hanging with Maddie and the girls.

Probably has like a shitpost Snap/Insta with the wackiest fucking pictures of himself, Cedar. Briar, Raven and Maddie. Like drunk college kid shit, tiddlywinks and necromancy.

Is everyone's little brother and he fucking THRIVES being able to be an enabled little shitter. No clue who helped Kitty and Ace with their latest prank. Couldn't be sweet Ortho! He's just a little guy!

Azul Ashengrotto:

Considered a neutral student for business, but is very much a pragmatist about it whatever the fuck that means lmao. He's a Rebel

Is both sad and relieved there aren't more eels.

He and Hopper are besties tho.

Suave cool guys sometimes and fucking trainwrecks otherwise? Kinnies even

Becomes lowkey midkey hydrophobic upon learning Meeshell turns fishy when wet.

Jade and Floyd:

Both Rebels ofc

Floyd and Jade are living it tf up.

Jade is investigating new mushrooms

Floyd is fucking shit up everywhere he goes and teaching them basketball or learning their basketball.

OFC Floyd has the nicknames on DECK

Maddie likes Floyd's silly nicknames and isn't so fond of him being mean sometimes.

She's also like mildly scared of Jade but he's nice to her dad and they talk about mushroom tea and treats so he's okay in her book.

Floyd always be racing Ramona or Cerise or doing some dumb shit with Briar.

Jade does his girlboss info gathering like in the one vignette with Vil where he looks so pathetically malewife.

Cedar is kept very very far from them.

Jamil Viper:

Rebel and honestly most of them are.

Surprisingly hangs out with Justine and Duchess. 

They be dancing N shit y'know.

Surprisingly gets along with Ashlynn.

Hangs out with Duchess when she gets fed up with Leona.

They vent about Kalim and Princess.

Kalim Al-Asim

Rebel but is so bubbly and sympathetic he's almost a centrist.

Kalim is so sweet he'd be like "Yeah Apple I totally get you wanna be queen and stuff but it makes Raven sad. :((("

Man is living it UP per usual.

He's hanging with every single person he can.

Absolute besties with Briar and Melody.

He's such a ball of sunshine.

He'd be so fucking happy here.

Leona Kingscholar:

Rebel ofc and would be a lot more dramatic about it than Raven is/was.

She ripped the page out of the Book of Legends? Bestie Leona would've dusted the whole thing like Azul's contracts. 👀 👀

Okay that's exaggerating he would've done the same thing.. Maybe

Honestly jokes aside he'd be more akin to Idia. A doomer rebel. 

He bothers tf out of Duchess and they're actually good friends.

Her drive to succeed kinda invigorates him.

Honestly bro is the same as ever. He eeps, he eats, he makes Ruggie do shit. 

SIKE!!!

Leona in the EAHverse would come to be like a god-tier version of himself. It would force his character development into being better than Falena imo. Yeah you could look at him and say he's just laze around, but in the middle of not only a class, but a life threatening conflict that is so deeply entwined with his actual life? If you ask me a PostOB! Leona would be all OVER this shit. He would be making full on plans and figuring shit out like well…a king. *laugh track*

Maybe then he'd like leave Ruggie alone or have a heart to heart with Ruggie or some cool emotionally mature shit. 

Ruggie Bucchi:

So audaciously a Rebel.

He hangs a lot with Maddie and Ashlynn.

Rosabella is also very nice to him. They're like sibs imo. She tells him to be nicer he tells her she's short or smthn and gives her backbone a boost.

Ruggie with a more developed Leona and with something solid to stand for would be a force to be reckoned with ngl. Even tho I think Ruggie has the weird trauma impulse that he has to earn his keep or earn others love for him so while I think Leona would be nicer to Ruggie part of that kindness is the unspoken way Leona lets Ruggie "steal" from him or do his laundry or whatever to feel like he has "earned" that money or food when those are just things people should do for you or do their best to provide for you because you exist and you are loved and cared for.

Anyway I just think we'd get a softer and a bit less cynical Ruggie. Not less crafty tho.

Jack Howl:

Rebel obvi.

Absolute besties with the Wolf sisters.

They do wolf things together.

Honestly I don't think much would change for him.

He'd be with the Savannaclaw boys being huge Rebel activists because of course they are. <3

Malleus Draconia:

Conflicted but ultimately a Rebel. Understands that people have things they need to do but they should be afforded the choice if possible.

HUGE HUGE BESTIES with Raven. Goth Girlies Unite!!!

Being around Raven and Maddie alot does WONDERS with him being more social and approachable. Maddie is their "cute item"

Hangs out with Cupid a lot after hearing about an old Gargoyle friend she had and REALLY wants to go to Monster High and meet her.

Fucking hates Faybelle. Thinks it's uncouth to crash parties.

Gets so so sad just looking or thinking about Briar.

They're mega besties tho and he like apologizes several times over even though it wasn't his Thorn Fairy that caused this. Immortality sucks dick.

She tells him to chill and shows him how to work a phone. /hj

They cry into ice cream and go on adventures a lot.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Rebel silly

Bro loves it here. The people are so spookable and he's just a cute little guy y'know!

He dispenses his wisdom and has an official ban from all kitchens so decreed by a combined front of (everyone) but mostly Ginger, Trey, and the Crumbs.

Hangs out mostly gaming but also with Poppy!

Poppy does his hair all the time, mostly via magic for funsies.

Also hangs with Kitty and Courtly.

Silver:

Rebel (He's his father's son)

Fits in so well. Really looks like one of the Charmings.

Hangs out mostly with Darling and Chase.

He has a one sided blood feud with both Hunter and Apple.

He's so princely and he's surrounded by birds and is in nature all the time??

Apple thinks he's coming for her place being so pretty when sleeping and surrounded by forest animals and flowers?? C'mon man wtf??

Hunter thinks he's coming for his girlfriend because Silver was nice to/talked to Ashlynn ONCE.

Bro can't catch a break from Briar either. She's the opp of his sleepiness. 

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek would be whatever Malleus is because loyalty. He is in all honesty so truly deeply conflicted.

All he wants to do is be a good knight for Malleus. He has wanted this forever. It's like his destiny. But then again he kinda (maybe? Idk I haven't read chapter 7 anything) got to choose this. But he should be loyal to whatever it is Malleus chooses, but what if in this world the book chose some STRANGER to be Malleus' knight and not him? AND THEN WHAT IF

In short he's very likely a Rebel he's just gotta get their. 

Crisis of Identity part 2 aka (I've conquered my internalized racism at being part human but now I'm not sure who I am personality and morality wise. What a conundrum! The Musical The Series The Musical.)

He hangs out with Darling and Chase as well.

Is also pretty close with Cerise and Raven.

All in all things would go pretty well together not that ANY of what I said explains that, but in long:

EAH is based on the idea of Destiny v.s Free Will and talks about the deep seeded fears and problems that would come from a society that tells you you must be one thing your whole life when you want to be another. Which goes very well with how the Overblots happen. 

Riddle is pressured and abused by his mother to be a perfect star child and that pressure is too much for him and he snaps. 

Leona is always considered second best and less than his brother. 

Azul has a poorly written (imo) overblot but he wants to feel comfortable in his own skin and feels he needs to do so by being in total control of every situation so he can look good and not feel inferior, as he was bullied in his childhood.

Jamil has to downplay himself to make Kalim look better and is made to live a life where he can never be his true self. 

Vil also has a poorly written overblot (imo) but he wants to feel loved and appreciated and to not be the villain he's always casted as. (Literally Raven's ENTIRE thing)

Idia wants to be a hero, and cope with the guilt of feeling like he killed his brother.

Malleus is grappling with mortality and not having a "proper" family. (Briar does the first half of this in the show)

EAH also does bend and change these "destinies"

Darling being Apple's "Prince"

Daring being with Rosabella when he was certain he'd be with Apple.

In the books, Cedar coming to terms with "being human" without having to be made of physical flesh and bone or being actually human. Thus disregarding the need for her story. 

Apple being the more ruthless between her and Raven when she is supposed to be kind and sweet.

Red and Big Bad being together.

In the books again, Brooke interacting with the story. 

So in long with shit for details and no real argument. I think Ever After High and TWST would make a great crossover and maybe I just want more people to do more idk modern(??) things with EAH. But also I'm a sucker for X but a Highschool/College thing.

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

Hi! Can I request Loona and Octavia with a fem s/o who rlly loves pink, has a very girly aesthetic, and has a very bimbo/ditzy personality?? Tyyy!! <33

"Barbie Girl" ; Loona, Octavia Ars Goetia

Octavia is someone who can tolerate a surprising amount, and honestly is a little amused by it?

She'll comment on how stupid you are jokingly, but aside from that, she's always respectful and even encourages you to insult her back.

She'll make sure to always have a servant watching you in case you get confused, though, since she doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.

Matching aesthetics!

Well, okay, not really. But you fit the "pink, sugary sweetheart bimbo" and she'll go for "dark and brooding punk" looks. You'll look opposite, and as they say, opposites attract.

"Look! Look, Via! Isn't this cute?"

"Of course, of course, S/O. And look! This matches, sort of."

This girl... is not perfect at giving presents, but she's always near the mark.

Although sometimes, she'll just give you a few hundred dollars and tell you to go nuts. After all, she's a princess, and what would she want the money for, if not you?

If she's out and sees just about anything pink, she'll buy it, but not give it to you right away, instead waiting till the next time she sees you in public.

"Heh... She'll be so surprised."

You're always surprised. Because every single time you go over to her house, she presents you with, like, an entire garbage bag's worth of gifts. Which is a lot for someone who barely goes outside of her own volition and rarely doesn't see you for more than a week.

Obligatory what do her parents think of you: neither particularly approve but Stolas just wants her to be happy and Stella thinks you're pretty, and that's all she really cares about. Neither are particularly fawning over you, but they're both polite to you.

Not that Octavia particularly cares, though, you're her girlfriend and she loves you.

At first, Loona is actually really annoyed by you.

"Heeyyyy, Lulu, can you, liiiikee... maybe tell me what this says?"

"Can you, 'liiiikee', grow a few brain cells and read it yourself?"

Only for her to realize that what you were showing her was in Chinese, and that's why you couldn't read it.

... Probably.

God, she hoped.

She'll never let anyone else make fun of you, though. Only she's allowed to do that. She's really bad at verbally expressing just how much she loves you and needs you by her side, after all.

But it's okay, because she's superb at gift-giving.

Probably has over $400 worth of things that reminded her of you in her Mammazon cart. She's buying them slowly as she gets the money through her assassinations.

Sometimes, she even takes kills on her own just so she can make all the cash.

"Hey, S/O. Gotcha something. Here."

She's just... so casual about it as she tosses you the shoes she caught you eyeing in a shop window.

Like Via, mismatching aesthetics, except actually mismatching. Same thing, different colors.

Moxxie hates you and thinks you're annoying but still too good for Loona, Millie still remains polite to you.

Blitzø adores you. You make his baby girl happy!

And happy she is, she's so happy she met you and got you to be hers. :))

[baronaliswritingcorner]

TOS Replay Stray Thoughts #3 (Palmacosta Pt. 1)

(dang that GIF is a mood, ANYWAY...)

-The Church of Martel was founded by Spiritua...how long ago was that, again? Clearly I'm behind on my TOS lore, 'cause I think I assumed it just popped up thousands of years ago or w/e

-lol I never read the chalkboard signs at the Palmacosta Academy. "Today's Recommendation: Today is just no good"

-what kind of a name is mighty

-or dorr

-or chocolat

-or marble

-you see my point about palmacosta now??? place is weird.

-It's interesting Genis's theme only ever plays in sidequests...and like two times at that. You could say "Secret from the blue sky" is his serious theme.

-Dean: Come back to join our academy when the journey is over

*Party leaves, then reenters room*

Dean: WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE

-I think Lloyd's "If one sword has a power of 100, then using two will make it 200, right?" logic could've been really funny if it was voiced. Imagine Kratos's exasperation.

-There's a wide imbalance of unvoiced scenes, isn't there? You'd tihnk this wouldn't be a big deal, but at the same time...

A) Even with the use of cel-shading, Tales of Symphonia already looked dated by 2003/2004 standards and the limited animations/pantomiming can't carry themselves without the ranged emotions of voiced dialogue doing the heavy lifting.

B) Whether it's the localization or the original script (maybe both), there's a distinct discrepancy in writing quality between both -- not that the ENG voiced scenes don't have their issues with wordiness/delivery, but the silent scenes slip into basic/juvenile dialogue more often than not. Perhaps because the scriptwriters knew the actors wouldn't be saying unnatural dialogue out loud?

-Again, I'm not the biggest fan of Colette's ditziness even if makes sense thematically (she's lived a very sheltered life raised on nothing but religious propaganda, so it's hardly surprising common knowledge flies over her head), but I find her approach to Sheena very endearing -- she knows her heart isn't into it and wants to know what makes her tick. Lloyd's exasperated, sure, but it's clear he senses the same and I like to think that scene at the House of Salvation is him following Colette's example.

(Going back to femslash, it's very fun to imagine Sheena being disarmed by Colette's sunshine disposition -- to her assassin, of all people! -- to the extent she grows a crush. I'm so attached to Colloyd that pairing them with anyone else feels like cheating, but that may be one I'd like to give a shot.)

-While we're on the topic of the House of Salvation, love the dude who freaks out over Lloyd having the same hairstyle LOL. Little details like this make TOS the best.

-"Are the things lying here things that people don't want anymore?"

...is Koton that bad at preserving his collection? Or do people just toss shit onto his lawn outta spite?

-...you know, while the "Raine smacking Genis" scenes are still funny, I dunno if they'd fly today. I often envision what a Tales of Symphonia remake would be like and while that'd be an acceptable omission, in considering everything from the bloated, protracted trials and tribulations of modern game development to each successive TOS remaster being worse than the last, I only foresee a monkey's paw just waiting to curl its cruel fingers.

-"This is going to be an arduous battle."

Raine, they're ladybugs.

-"HELP THE DESIANS ARE HERE!!!!"

yeah whatever let me sleep at the inn kthx -Everything about that Magnius scene is just silly. The dude just strutting onto the scene with his mega-cartoonish dreads, the guy standing there spouting exposition while Magnius marches towards him, his crushed neck emitting the tinniest "crushed can" sound effect possible, the rock-throwing kid fleeing by just casually walking away, the first appearance of the out-of-place cutscene Demon Fang...it's a lot.

-"You! You're wanted criminal #0074...Lloyd Irving!"

Hmm, just 73? You'd think more people would run afoul of the Desians' totalitarian rule. Sure, Palmacosta has that Dorr conspiracy going on, and most other towns seem to know to keep their heads down, but how callous they are I'd imagine they're not above "framing" innocent civilians for made-up crimes. At any rate, I wanna know what their story is. (Psst, fanfic peeps -- that's your time to shine!)

[lottalottie]

charlotte la bouff is a 30 year old human based on lottie from the princess and the frog. she is an influencer with no powers. she uses she/her pronouns, and all of her memories are intact !

INFO.

full name: charlotte jenny la bouff

date of birth: august 7th, 1993

hometown: evermore

zodic: leo sun, virgo rising, aries moon

sexuality: heterosexual, heteromantic (so she thinks)

education: high school graduate

occupation: influencer

height: 5'2

hair: blonde

eye color: green

tattoos/piercings: earlobes

markings: n/a

mother: jennifer la bouff

father: eli la bouff

siblings: n/a

pets: stella, basset hound

PERSONALITY.

positive traits: faithful, optimistic, generous, poised, friendly

negative traits: egotistical, gullible, pampered, ditzy, impatient

likes: sweet tea, romance novels, fairytales, dresses, dancing, country music, fresh baked goodies, manicures, taylor swift, big hats, all things pink, plusses, cute charming men

fears: never falling in love, losing tiana or her father

dislikes: sweating, waiting, sneakers, jeans, runny mascara

hobbies: daydreaming, reading, shopping, taking selfies

aesthetics: peaches, fluffy pink comforters, high heels, doodled hearts, pink frosting cupcakes, azaleas, boots, sparkly tiaras, beignets, pearl necklaces, feather boas, miss dior eau

HEADCANONS.

lottie is a sweetheart. she's someone who is naive, generous and too kind-hearted for her own good, though she may not seem it from a first glance. it would be easy to assume she cares more about the way she dresses than someone else's well-being, but that's just not true. spoiled, charlotte was also loved growing up. she never had to want for her parents affection. she was her daddy's little princess and the apple of her momma's eye, and they taught her how to be as good as she looked.

sometimes she forgets that everyone isn't the same as her. she expects people to treat her how she would treat them, which can lead to... problems.

the hardest thing she has been through was losing her momma. she was only around six when she passed away. playing with tiana was truly the distraction her little heart needed to cope through it all. she misses that woman so much, still, and she wishes her momma was here to see the young lady she grew into. she still loves her with her whole heart. she just has to love her from afar now.

she keeps waiting for some beautiful man with beautiful eyes to sweep her off her feet. sometimes she thinks she lets her imagination go too far. when she's out walking stella she often imagines bumping into a cutie with a dog of his own. they'd strike up a conversation, their pups would start playing together, and that would be that. at the ice cream parlor, she imagines the man before her in line asking her for help with selection. she cracks an innocent little joke, his eyes meet hers, and the world stops.

she knows that she is a strong independent woman who doesn't need a man! but is it so bad to want one?

she just... loves love. and she knows there's someone out there for her. hopefully in evermore.

lottie loves flowers - she grew up playing in an absolutely beautiful garden that was started by her mother, and it feels wrong to not be surrounded by floral scenery. though she doesn't have a yard for all that here, she has plants sitting in almost all of her windowsills. she doesn't have quite the green thumb her momma did, but they're all managing... for now.

marilyn monroe is her hero.

charlotte doesn't really... do casual. even her bedtime outfits consist of pink satin pj set and a 'messy' bun without a hair out of place. she has to do her makeup to go to the grocery store. it isn't that she's worried about being seen natural. maybe a little. she just loves looking her very best. it makes her feel her very best. she's not judging anyone who is there in their yoga pants, though; to them, she would say, "you look as pretty as a peach, darlin'!"

she has lots of southern phrases. i feel like that goes without saying... but i'm gonna say it anyway.

probably one of very few people you'll ever meet that says "bless your heart" unironically.

her favorite past time is romance novels. there's nothing better than pouring a nice tall glass of sweet tea, grabbing a copy of pride and prejudice and cozying herself into a hammock. she could lose herself in stories for hours. hoping one day she's part of one.

she has a sweet tooth... but specifically baked goods. she's not so much of a candy person. she does like chocolate, but specifically bon-bons and fancy little boxes - not hershey bars. her favorite, though? a nice warm apple pie. a chocolate chip croissant. sweet enough to eat the whole thing without getting a toothache. if she's being real specific, her favorite is anything tia bakes her. that girl bakes with love.

she rarely calls tiana by her name. it's always tia.

she's thought of working as a florist or something for a living, but honestly, running her social media is a full time job and one that she can't let go of. it boosts her ego, but it's also creative and it's fun.

[in-my-feels-probably]

hey love!! congratulations on hitting 800 followers, Im so proud of you! hope you’re having a lovely day! 🥰

Im gonna enter this celebration RIGHT this time lol, so this sort of extends from my previously attempt (again, so sorry about that, got too excited and ahead of myself to see when the post was made, silly me!!) which was a romantic ship with Jon Snow!

for the info about me, Im 5’0” tall, deathly pale (often looking ill, actually), with grey eyes and blue curly hair. I’ve got the roundest face of all time (seriously if you ever need to draw a circle you just let me know and I’ll faceplant against a piece of paper for you), very short arms, and a dumptruck if I do say so myself (average sized person squished into a smaller body and the fat depositing in my favour tbh). personality wise, I’ve been known to be very ditzy and forgetful (trauma 🤪), but Im incredibly optimistic empathetic, protective, creative and easily frightened. Im a petty bitch and Im not afraid to say it, I WILL hold a grudge and be very passive aggressive to anyone that’s hurt someone I care about but I do so with comedic timing which makes it acceptable 😌

my name’s Heather and my pronouns are she/her, I hope that’s enough info but please let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

hope you have a wonderful week and congratulations again, you deserve it so much, you are such an incredible talent!! 💗

hi my love!

thank you for participating again :)

i had to go back and read the first blurb i did to make sure i don’t rephrase anything, so i’m sorry if i repeat anything i’ve already said. (also omg, hard same on the round face thing, i also have a very round face. and the looking ill part made me laugh, im also really pale and generally unhealthy so i look sick a lot too.)

jon is very much a brooding individual. not negative necessarily, but definitely pessimistic. he’s been beaten down, and tends not to see the brighter side of things. i cant blame him, but it could make being around him a little bit difficult if you don’t function in the same way as him. youd balance him out, and he’d appreciate the little bit of joy you’d bring into his life. especially since you’re short, you’d be his little ball of sunshine, even if you don’t consider yourself to be that. you’d seem like that to him, and it would be a nice change of pace for him.

i don’t know what it is about him, but i think he has a bit of a mischievous personality that he doesn’t get to show often. he doesn’t have any reason to. but you’d bring out this side in him that’s childlike, and curious. he never really got to be a kid, and he’d feel comfortable enough around you to let loose a little. he’s incredibly protective, so he’d never put you in harms way or let anyone mess with you. but i think after a few pints of ale, he could be convinced to play some sort of prank on you.

maybe sam accidentally broke something of yours, and you were upset. you weren’t genuinely pissed at him, but you weren’t letting him get off free. maybe you did something equally as harmless, like throwing off his schedule or hiding something of his, and he gets sick of it. so he goes to jon, and jon is appalled by the idea.

“you’d have me play a joke on her? i do value my life, you know. her bad side is not one i want to get on.”

and sam would whine, telling him to grow up and be a man. he’d convince jon to go along with some sort of prank, maybe scaring you since they both know you scare easily. they’d wait behind a column, knowing you’d come that way and have ti pass them. they’d jump out, yelling.

you’d scream, moving into a fighting stance, when they’d both burst out laughing. you’d recognize that it was harmless fun, and you actually enjoyed that jon was having fun for once. but at the same time, there was no way you’d let them get away with it without getting them back.

“very mature,” you’d say, clutching your chest with a scowl on your face.

jon would laugh, bringing you into his arms. his cheeks were warm and rose tinted from the alcohol.

“i’m sorry, darling,” he’d say, clutching you tightly to him while trying not to laugh. “i had to. it was funny, you have to admit it.”

you’d hug him back, but glare up at sam, who’d take that as his cue to scamper off before you decided to do something rash.

you’d give jon a squeeze, before pushing him away. “asshole.”

“love,” he’d whine, and you’d find it so difficult to not smile at his tone.

you remained with a blank face, staring up at him with narrowed eyes. you may have been small, but you were scary. and jon took one look at your face before raising his hands in surrender, taking a step back.

—

hope you enjoyed this! thank you again for your kind words, and for participating again. i really appreciate the support :)

you gave him a smile so calm that it struck fear in his heart. “you should be afraid, snow. very afraid.”

“shit,” he murmured, before shrugging and linking his arm with yours. “i’ve accepted my fate. do me a favor, though…go after sam before me. id like to be prepared.”

[agathasroad]

Brittany S. Pierce for the character ask

First impression

I first saw Brittany through tumblr gifs of her (and Santana) and immediately was intrigued and needed to know more because I knew I was about to be obsessed😌

Impression now

14 year old me was correct🥰 Brittany is a hilarious genius with dance skills a person could only dream of and I’ll protect her with my life

Favourite moment

I spent a full 20 minutes trying to pick one, this was tough😭 okay so I’m not gonna commit and say it’s my all time favourite moment, it’s just my favourite moment of today: when she makes Santana that playlist in Heart. It was just so sweet and so Brittany🥺

Also musical/song wise: her performance of Run The World (girls) did something to my brain chemistry I still don’t think I’ve recovered from😍

Idea for a story

For in universe: I would have loved to have seen her have a similar story to what Mike had where it explored his love of dance. I wish they really delved into why it meant so much to her, and even maybe have a storyline where she’s (physically, I know there was a little bit in 100 about her like just losing the passion but I want more) unable to dance for a period of time for some reason, and how that affects how she navigates the world (with Santana supporting her of course)

Alternate universe: I’m trying (real emphasis on trying lmao) to write a fic where she’s the owner of a wacky nyc bar, dealing with having to sacrifice her dancing dreams after the loss of her mother, and how her relationship with Santana opens her back up again🥰

Unpopular opinion

Definitely not an unpopular opinion but more of a rant to people who think her relationship with Santana was ‘bad’/manipulative: I think most of the moments where people think Brittany is just being ‘stupid’ or gullible, she knows fully well what’s going on. Like maybe sometimes she’ll just say something silly because she doesn’t like an awkward moment, or just because she’s doing a bit and thinks it’s fun to mess with people, or maybe she’ll play ‘ditzy’ to avoid taking responsibility because she hates the confrontation. And hey, maybe sometimes she does get confused/doesn’t understand something, doesn’t means she doesn’t have agency and have the ability to make her own decisions💙

Favourite relationship

Imagine the shock and horror if I said anything other than Brittana? Of course it’s her relationship with Santana🥰 They are just so sweet and supportive of each other and they have one of the healthiest relationships from the show! They love each other unconditionally and accept each other, flaws and all💖

Favourite headcanon

That she is 100% neurodivergent🥰 (I’d see her more as having adhd but I totally agree with those who also headcanon her as autistic) I think that’s why I get defensive when people act like Brittany has no agency and is just stupid and gullible - she knows what the fuck is up, she’s just not neurotypical!!

I also like to think she now owns her own dance studio and has even choreographed for big artists for tv performances/tours🥰

[juniperhillpatient]

Who do you think would be who (roughly) in an ATLA PLL AU?

I’m bingeing PLL while sick so it’s on my mind lol.

Good question!

I can’t believe I’ve never thought about this. Hm I feel like Azula is the obvious choice for Alison but Spencer’s perfectionism & rich girl with daddy issues + sibling issues also kinda fits Azula 😂 Maybe Azula is Allison & Ty Lee is Spencer but her issues with never standing out with her sisters is explored through all the drama with Spencer & her sister who’s name I forget lol

Then again Ty Lee also fits Aria’s more artsy weird girl personality - although iirc that is more prevalent in the books.

Hm actually I think Katara could work as Aria but make it a Katara who’s a little rebellious. Also Katara canonically goes all in with her whole heart so idk who Ezra is but I can see Katara’s emotional side making that romance fun.

I can see Suki as Emily. Her passion for the swim team could be a stand in for Suki’s love for the Kyoshi warriors & she’s sweet but has a little snarkiness which works for Suki.

Maybe Mai could be Maya? The mysterious cool bi girl? It’s funny I never thought about Mai/Suki until today really but I guess it’s on my mind because of the Once in a Blue Moon update I reblogged earlier 😉

Hm & idk who Toph could be…. Definitely Not that mean blind girl the little liars blinded with stink bombs for sure 😂 Oh - Toph could be Paige! Emily’s sort of abrasive gf - I think that’s her name. Yeah, maybe Toph could be her.

…. Now I know that Yue is not mean or manipulative but somehow I think Yue could be Alison. The whole haunting the narrative, everyone idealizes & demonizes her simultaneously thing is potentially interesting for Yue actually.

Ok so that’s the main atla girls. Do the guys in PLL even matter? They’re mostly there to look pretty 😂

Uh… Jet could be Caleb the whole sad boy with no family in foster care bad boy the police & authorities are always doing wrong thing works. Also I didn’t put anyone as Hanna idk no one popped out to me? Maybe Jin can be Hanna. Sweet, a little ditzy, good heart.

And I really don’t know who Zuko is.

Sokka can be Aria’s brother (forget his name) since I said Katara is Aria except that doesn’t totally work since Aria’s brother has anger issues that more fit Zuko… yeah idk.

I’m gonna be honest it’s been a while since I watched or read PLL & I don’t really remember too many guy characters. Still no clue who would be Ezra.

Anyway that’s what I got for now lol!

Do you have any ideas for who would be who or how things would play out?

Thanks for the ask & I hope you feel better soon! 💖

[brummiereader]

@emotionalcadaver poor Tommy 😩. Jessie digging up memories, was brutal.

I love how everyone is like “He’ll get over it,” about Arthur 😂. Yeh he missed the vote, but it's not like he wasn't missing out on something with what he was doing with Linda 😅.

It was in Tommy’s nature to blame himself for every little thing that went wrong. But still, she needed him to hear it. Maybe, someday, he would believe her. Exactly this! I think it's so important that you wrote this. Because it's never really considered/mentioned in canon, but it's there. You can see Tommy blaming himself for everything. He didn't even blame John for Grace's death. He blamed himself. He takes on everyone's burdens, and I adore the fact that Lucy sees this and trys her best to have him lessen everybody else's faults he blames himself for.

Tommy doesn’t want you to be there when Luca comes for him,” Polly stated simply. Lucy felt her shoulders tense, turning to face her. I have such a bad feeling about this 😬. And the fact Lucy seems to be getting increasingly frustrated with Tommy holding her back, makes me think she's going to try and prove her point.

The way he looked at Tommy, in particular, as if sizing him up, made her particularly nervous. I can't stand Michael. So this right here 👆...this gives me hope that Lucy will keep her guard up when it comes to him. Trust those spidey senses Lucy!!

Devlin was waiting for him with steps she suspected his overdramatic ass was purposefully ensuring sounded booming and intimidating. Definitely couldn't mention stomping Tommy 🤭😂! You just know he purposely prances about as loudly as possible. I reckon he's probably heavy footed naturally. Doubt he does anything quietly 😂.

Clara had quite the intel 👌. I actually really loved the fact she had a certain amount of loyalty towards Tommy and Lucy. And decided to tell them her observations. BUT...arghhhh. Lucy, hun...I feel like this might be a trap for you 😩. Now I don't think Clara would set them up, but I'm not so sure about Elizabeth or Maria. If she's taken with the Italian...she might not be so loyal, or her ditzy personality might slip up 😬.

The whole entire next scene was filled with so much emotion, I honestly started to get that nervous uneasy feeling in my stomach. Heartbreak for Tommy and the memories Jessie cruelly brought up. And heartbreak for Lucy and the emotions/self doubt that she internally battled with.

You did an excellent job at describing both. And I felt like I got a deeper look into how Tommy felt about Greta. But his loving gazes at the woman he knew before the war, broke my heart for Lucy. He lit a cigarette, then picked back up the photo he’d pulled from his pocket before taking off his coat, looking down at it longingly. Lucy felt something inside her twist. I felt so sad for her in this moment when Tommy remembers his time with her. And her trying to find logic in her irrational thoughts about who Tommy might love more etc, was something I think maybe a lot of us has gone through. I think that's why I felt this scene so much. Nobody wants to be second best. And it's something us women do so well...worry. Worry about things that are out of control. Just like Lucy was doing 😭.

“I’ll be right back,” Tommy said, tucking the photograph into his trousers pocket. Wait, where did he go??? Oh god, I know it's not yet but...the scene down by the cut with Lizzie...it just popped into my head 😩. I'm not sure how you're gonna spin this one in your story, I'm nervous. Don't hurt my girl 😭😭.

“I think you would have liked her. I know she would have liked you.” honestly 😭, this was the sweetest way he could have reassured her worries. Tommy's love for Greta I imagine is different to what her shared with Grace and different to what he shares with Lucy. I just hate the way she started criticising herself when he was gone. Lucy that man is obsessed with you!!!!

Tommy kissed up her neck to her cheek, nuzzling at her like an affectionate cat. Thank you for ending this chapter on a fluffy note, I needed it 🥰. You had me worrying on Lucy's behalf how much Tommy loves her 😫😂. Like I really felt it 🤦🏼‍♀️. But that shows how good of a writer you are, hun! I had a visceral reaction to your incredible use of emotions, and the depth they held.

Amazing, amazing, amazing!! Another brilliant chapter, can't wait for more ❤️!

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: New information arrives that could prove extremely useful, and Tommy is reminded of someone from his past.

Word Count: 6,091

Notes: I know that these first couple chapters have been a little slow, so thank you for sticking with me so far. I promise that things are going to start picking up after this chapter! Warnings for references to past sexual assault, prostitution, disease, death of a minor character, and suicide.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 9: No One Came Back

Lucy winced at the way the door slammed behind Arthur, the relief that she’d felt initially at the sight of him alive and well in her and Tommy’s office had quickly drained when he started in on Tommy about the vote Ada had told him about. He was furious and hurt. Not to mention that he looked to be about to come down with the shakes after having just killed two Italians who’d tried to get him.

Great. So now they couldn’t trust the men in their own damn factories not to give them up. The Changrettas were gaining more allies within their territories. That was a problem. 

Tommy stood there, staring at the door Arthur had stomped out of, a hand raising to wipe across his face. 

“He’ll get over it,” Lucy said, rising from where she’d leaned against the desk, arms crossed over her chest while she silently watched the encounter. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll still be the one who gets to kill Luca and this’ll all be a mum point anyway.”

“Mm,” Tommy grunted, dropping his hand and turning to her. “He was upset.”

“He still blames himself.”

Tommy gave her a sad look. “It wasn’t his fault.”

Lucy cocked her head, eyes narrowing slightly at the tone in his voice, it clear who he actually blamed for John’s death. “It wasn’t yours, either.”

“Yes, love. It was.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “John died because he was an idiot and didn’t kill Audrey Changretta when he had the chance. The whole mess with them wouldn’t have even begun in the first place if he hadn’t lost his head over Lizzie dating someone else,” she cupped both sides of his face. “John’s death was his own fault. Not yours. Not Arthur’s.”

He closed his eyes, and she knew that he didn’t entirely believe her. It was in Tommy’s nature to blame himself for every little thing that went wrong. But still, she needed him to hear it. Maybe, someday, he would believe her. 

She leaned her forehead against his for a second, his hands resting upon her forearms before letting him go. He moved to collapse exhaustedly into the chair behind his desk. Lucy followed him, hopping up to seat herself on the edge of his desk beside him. Had there not been men working in the betting shop just outside the office windows, she’d have climbed into his lap instead. But this would do for now. 

“He’s going to be angry over this for a while,” Tommy huffed, rubbing at his brow as if fighting back a headache. 

“Yeah,” Lucy acknowledged, sighing. “It’ll be alright. He’ll understand eventually that it’s for the best.”

“Mm,” Tommy grunted, fingers pressing to his lips, eyes growing unfocused slightly as he was lost in thought. Lucy nudged his knee with her toe to get his attention. 

“Tea?”

“Hm? Oh; sure,” he nodded absentmindedly. Jumping off of the desk, she ducked out the door, dodging around men busy at work in the shop to get to the kitchen. She was just putting the kettle on and grabbing two teacups when the backdoor squealed open and Polly came in.

“What are you doing here?” Lucy asked curiously.

“Just came by to pick up a few things,” she set her hat down on the table. “Did you find Arthur?”

“Yeah, he just left. He’s not too happy about the whole thing.”

“He’ll get over it,” Polly said with a dismissive wave. Lucy raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anymore, instead moving to grab the tea from the pantry. “Where’s Tommy?”

“His office.”

But Polly didn’t move, and Lucy found herself growing increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze, boring into her back, shifting from foot to foot while she tended to the kettle. 

“I’ve set a time and place to meet Luca,” Polly said in a soft voice. Lucy swallowed, throat suddenly dry. It was a dangerous plan, for all of them. But at the moment, it was the best they had.

“That’s good.”  

“Tommy doesn’t want you to be there when Luca comes for him,” Polly stated simply. Lucy felt her shoulders tense, turning to face her.

“He’s protective. Especially after…” she choked briefly on the name. It was still hard to say it without opening up the well of grief inside of herself. “Especially after Grace.”

Polly nodded, pulling out a clove cigarette and lighting it. 

Lucy smiled tightly. “Too bad for him that I’m protective too. I’m not letting him deal with Luca alone.”

“Good. I don’t like the idea of him getting into a shootout all by himself. Even if he knows that they’re coming for him. I’m assuming your presence is to be kept a surprise?”

Lucy nodded, pouring the tea, letting it steep while she cleaned the kettle. 

“You’ll tell Tommy? That I’ve made contact with Luca? I need to be getting back.” 

“Sure,” she didn’t ask where Polly needed to be getting back to, probably home or the hospital. She wondered if Michael might be getting tired of her constantly hovering over him.

At the thought of Michael, something else occurred to her. “Polly.”

She turned at the doors, cigarette between her lips and hat clutched in her hands, brow raised. 

“Yes?”

“Have you told Michael about the thing with Luca?”

Her brows pulled together. “No.”

Lucy nodded, thinking. There had been something in Michael’s eyes for the past year…she couldn’t quite place it. But it had been there since he’d killed Hughes. Lucy had thought at the time that murdering his rapist would help him, similarly to the way it had helped her. But she was beginning to think that might’ve been a miscalculation on her part. 

The way he looked at Tommy, in particular, as if sizing him up, made her particularly nervous.  

 “If it’s all the same to you, I think it best we keep it that way. I don’t know what Michael’s…acting skills are like, and the fewer people that know, the better.”

Polly thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

Lucy cracked a humorless grin. “Look at us, agreeing on things for a change.”

Polly snorted. “Don’t get used to it,” but there was half a touch of humor in her voice, before she turned and wandered her way into the shop. Lucy picked up the two cups of tea, steaming rising steadily and the delicate China warm against her fingers, and carried them back to Tommy’s office. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

It was dark, when Isiah brought Devlin to them. They were in the kitchen eating a quick dinner when they arrived, and Isiah silently took him to an office, leaving him seated at a table with one of their other men keeping watch. They’d let him sweat a little before actually speaking with him.

In the kitchen, Isiah spoke in a quiet voice. Everyone else had gone home for the day, and the betting shop was dark and eerily quiet.  

“He had a one-way ticket to Glasgow in his pocket when we searched him, like you said he would.”

Lucy nodded. That was to be expected. Tommy had asked her to do some digging into Devlin after Arthur was given up by someone in their own factory. Devlin had keys to all the doors, and he’d been frustrated with them as of late. He was the obvious candidate for a traitor. 

Whether it was fear of the Changrettas, or hatred for them, it was hard to say. To Lucy, it didn’t particularly matter. The outcome was the same. 

“His wife and kids had already left for there three days ago,” she told Tommy, leaning back in her chair and puffing at her cigarette. “According to the woman selling tickets at the train station.” 

“You find the address they’re staying at?” Tommy asked. She nodded, digging around in her pocket and pulling out the little slip of paper she’d scrawled it down on, handing it to him. He looked at it for a moment, committing it to memory, before tucking it away. 

“I already called some of our men we have allegences with in the gangs in the city. They’re prepared to do what we ask if Devlin doesn’t cooperate.”

“Good,” Tommy started fumbling with his briefcase, clasping it shut. Isiah shifted from foot to foot nervously. Lucy raised an eyebrow at him curiously, his eyes lifting to meet hers. 

“There’s a woman who I think you should speak to, Lucy,” he said. “She’s just outside, with Skudboat. I can have him take her home, if you’d prefer, but…”

“What is it?” Lucy asked, head cocking curiously.

“She has information about where Alessio Changretta is hiding.”

Lucy’s eyes snapped over to share a look with Tommy. Her breath caught in her throat with excitement. Finally, they might have something they could use.

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked, being cautious in his optimism. 

“She’s a girl who works at the Midland. She says that one of the other girls there has been bragging about getting some extra work on the side of what she does at the hotel. Serving some Italian men living in a flat nearby.” 

Lucy looked back to Tommy. That certainly sounded promising. Could be a trap, too. So they would have to be cautious.  

“You and Scudboat searched her?” Tommy asked Isiah. The boy nodded. Tommy looked back at Lucy. “See what she has to say. I’ll deal with Devlin,” he turned to Isiah. “Go wait with him. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Isiah nodded, and scurried away. 

“Watch for if she’s lying about anything,” Tommy said, clearly thinking the same thing that she’d been about a potential trap.

“Right.”

He finished clasping his briefcase, standing and making her smile when he dropped a kiss on the top of her head before striding  towards where Devlin was waiting for him with steps she suspected his overdramatic ass was purposefully ensuring sounded booming and intimidating. Standing, Lucy scooped up both of their plates, setting them down in the sink to be washed later. Once the table was cleared, she went to the backdoor. Outside, Skudboat was standing with a young woman Lucy instantly recognized from nights spent with Tommy at the Midland. 

“Clara,” she said in soft greeting. The woman was pretty; almost as short as Lucy, with soft, golden colored hair, and wide, sea-green eyes. Lucy held the door open to her. “Come in,” she let Clara step past her into the dimly lit kitchen. “Wait out here,” she ordered Skudboat, who nodded, leaning against the wall and pulling out his cigarettes.

When she closed the door and stepped back into the kitchen, it was to find Clara with one hand held out, smiling while Asher sniffed at it. Lucy watched the encounter curiously, taking note of Asher’s reaction. A moment later, his tail wagged, tongue darting out to lick Clara’s hand in approval. Clara giggled, and gave him a scratch behind the ears that left the dog practically overjoyed. 

“Ash, come here,” Lucy chuckled, and he trotted to her side dutifully. “Have a seat,” she said to Clara, nodding to the table. She sank down into the seat next to her, Asher plopping down at her feet. 

“Isiah says you have some information for us?” Lucy prompted, opening her cigarette case and offering Clara one, which she politely declined, fiddling nervously with the buttons on her coat while Lucy took a cigarette out and lit it. 

“Yes, um…you know Elizabeth,” Clara started. Lucy nodded. Elizabeth was another prostitute that worked at the Midland who sometimes served her and Tommy. Though not as much as Clara. ���Well, shortly after Christmas, she came in wearing this expensive necklace. I thought, maybe her mum or some guy she’d been seeing, or maybe even a client had given it to her for Christmas. They do that, sometimes. But then she started coming in wearing more expensive things, and cutting down on her hours at the hotel. Billy wasn’t happy about it,” she looked down.

“So, eventually, one day, while we were all in the powder room getting ready for the evening, Maria asked her about it. Elizabeth said that she’s been seeing some new man who’s staying in a flat nearby. She says that he and his friends are rich. He and another man work as a…a…I don’t know, I guess as security guards of some kind, for another man. She’s always taken work on the side, you know. Even though Billy doesn’t like it when we do, he doesn’t stop us either. Apparently they called on her and she serviced all three of them one night, and then one man out of the three took a shine to her. He’s been buying her things, taking her around town with him to fancy restaurants. All that sort of stuff. I didn’t think much of it, at first. You know, it happens, sometimes, that a client takes a real shine to one of the girls and decides to play Prince Charming. If you ask me, I think he’s just trying to get free services out of her for him and his friends, but that’s not any of my business. But then…” Clara stuttered, fidgeting with her hands nervously. Lucy held out her cigarette to her, and this time, she took it gratefully. 

“She mentioned that they were all Italian. And I’d…I’d heard rumors that there was trouble between you and Tommy and some Italians that had come to town. And then Elizabeth–she’s got a big mouth, you remember? She mentioned something about how they’d been asking all sorts of questions. Mostly just about the city. But also about you and Tommy. And it just…it didn’t seem right, so I poked around the Garrison until I found the preacher’s son who works with you and told him what I’d heard.”

Lucy leaned back in her chair, fiddling with her rings while she considered Clara’s words. “Did they tell Elizabeth what they’re doing in Birmingham?”

“Just that they’re in town on business.”

“You get any of the names of the men from her?”

“No,” Clara shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Lucy assured her gently. “Do you know where they are staying?”

“Yes, I made her write it down,” she fumbled with her handbag. “It’s a flat just down the road from the hotel. I told her to give us the address in case something happened to her while she was with them. I think she thought it was silly, but she did it anyway. We have to look after each other, you know?” she handed Lucy the paper. Lucy took it, looking over the address and quickly drawing out her notebook from the inner pocket of her suit jacket and copying it down, handing the paper back to Clara. “I think that they hurt her.”

Lucy looked up sharply. “What makes you say that?”

Clara shrugged. “Just noticed some bruising on her arms that wasn’t there before, and she sometimes gets this look on her face…but she keeps going back. I think because she really likes the one guy, and because they pay her so well.”

Lucy nodded in quiet understanding, sympathy building in her for the girl. “Clara, thank you,” she said genuinely. “Really. You’ve no idea just how big of a help this has been.”

She nodded. “Of course. I…you and Tommy were always nice to me. And since you’ve been around, the men…some of them used to be really bad, sometimes. But since you came around with the whole…punishments for hurting women, things have been a bit better. There are still some arseholes every once in a while, but not so many as there used to be,” she shrugged, looking away and blushing when she realized that she’d been rambling. “So, anything that I can do to help…as a way to say thank you…”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Lucy said gently. “But if you hear or see anything more about Italians in the area, you call my office,” she wrote down the number and handed it to her. “Especially if you get anything more out of Elizabeth.”

“Of course.”

“There may be a day, soon, when I’ll need you to keep Elizabeth away from that flat for a few hours. Do you think you could do that?”

Clara thought about it. “I think so. If I could get Maria to help. Elizabeth is more likely to listen to her rather than me.”

“Okay. Good,” Lucy thought a moment more, then rose to her feet. Clara followed her lead. “Skudboat can walk you home.”

“Alright,” Clara gave Asher a parting little pet to the head. She seemed only then to realize that she was still holding Lucy’s cigarette between her fingers. “Oh,” she offered it back to her, but Lucy shook her head with a kind smile. 

“Keep it,” she led the way to the door, opening it and allowing the chill of evening air to enter the kitchen. “Thank you again, Clara. Really.”

Clara nodded once, with a bashful smile, and stepped out the door. 

“See to it that she gets home safe, Skudboat,” Lucy told him.

“Sure thing, Luce.”

She watched them begin to walk away, not closing the door until they were out of her sight. Returning to the table, she sank back down into her chair, hands clasped in front of her, fingers fiddling idly with her rings while she stared at nothing, just thinking silently in the dark.  

She barely registered it as Tommy came back into the kitchen, softly closing the double doors that led to the betting shop behind him. It wasn’t until he dropped a large hand onto her shoulder that she roused, head raising to peer up at him. 

“We have to go,” he said in a soft voice, expression apologetic. Her brows drew together. 

“We do?”

“Mhm,” he gave her a gentle tug on the arm. “We can talk on the way.”

“Okay,” she stood, still a little baffled, taking her coat that he’d pulled from the peg it was hanging on from him and tugging it over her shoulders, securing her cap atop her head. Tommy shepherded her out the door.

“Stay, Asher,” he told the dog when he moved to follow them. Lucy felt a little bad at the sight of his wagging tail and the eager perking of his ears. But he sat down obediently at Tommy’s command, taking up position quietly guarding the door until they got back. 

“Where are we going?” she asked as they began to walk. Tommy took her hand in his and she was grateful for it, his warm fingers helping to shield hers from the cold of the night air. 

“To see Jessie Eden.”

“At this hour? She won’t like that.”

“She might when she hears my improved offer.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Lucy chuckled with a suggestive raise of her eyebrow. Tommy huffed out a small laugh.

“No,” he gave her a mildly mischievous look. “Not yet, anyway.”

She pressed her smile into his arm, moving to press closer to his side as they walked. He was warm and it was chilly. 

“How did it go with Devlin?”

“It wasn’t him who gave Arthur up,” Tommy sighed, sounding simultaneously relieved and dejected.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. He’s just afraid of the communists.” Tommy’s gaze was focused on some faraway point in front of them. It was late enough that the streets were mostly quiet, a light drizzle of rain slickening the cobblestones. “He said that he heard that there were two Italians who attended a communist meeting in Stechford.”

“Ah. I see now why we’re on our way to speak with Miss. Eden.”

“Mm,” he nodded conspiratorially. “I’m keeping Devlin here in Birmingham. Isiah will get some of our men to watch his house. Tell our friends in Glasgow to look after his family.”

“Will do.”

“Did you get anything useful out of the girl from the Midland?”

“It was Clara. And actually yeah, very useful. She said that Elizabeth has been running around with some Italians that are living near the hotel. Apparently one of them’s taken a shine to her and has been buying her all sorts of expensive jewelry and taking her around town. Clara said that there’s three of them that Elizabeth has talked about. I got the address they’re staying at from her,” she pulled out her notebook and passed it to Tommy. He took it, examining the address carefully before handing it back.

“Do you trust her?”

“I do,” Lucy affirmed, tucking her notebook back into one of her inner pockets. “She seemed genuine. I don’t think it’s a trap. I think it’s just some of Luca’s men getting sloppy with the whore they’ve taken a liking to. But I’ll have Isiah and the boys case the place for a few days to make sure it’s not a trap and to work out a schedule of when they come and go.”

Tommy nodded. “Do you think Elizabeth knows what they’re actually here for?”

“I doubt it. You remember how she is: sweet, but a little ditzy and naive. Clara said that they told her they’re just in town on business.”

“Right. Well, just have the boys look into it and gather up information on the location and the men holed up there for now. Before we decide what to do about it.”

She raised an eyebrow, noting how he clearly was trying to avoid a discussion about her being the one to go after the Italians. But they were approaching Jessie’s building, so she decided not to push it. “Right.”

Tommy paused for a moment before heading inside the building, head craning up to look at the windows, most covered by the material of curtains, some more sheer than others, light only filtering out through them dully. Tommy squinted, as if trying to make out any of the silhouettes that passed across the windows, before moving to the door. He held it open for her, and she ducked in quickly, thankful to be out of the cold. Inside, she could hear a baby crying in one of the rooms, and the hum of music from another one upstairs. She climbed the narrow stairs after Tommy, looking around at the somewhat dingy, cramped lodgings. 

He came to a stop at the door that the music was filtering in from, smoothing down his fringe after he removed his hat, switching the briefcase to his other hand, then knocking softly at the door. The music came to an abrupt stop, and then Jessie’s voice was calling through the door, asking who it was. 

The meeting was going…well, not well, necessarily, but decent enough, considering their past dealings with Jessie. Lucy kept quiet, making herself comfortable in a chair at the little table in the center of the room, sipping at the beer Jessie offered them and observing her carefully. 

Jessie wasn’t particularly helpful, but that wasn’t actually a surprise. Nor was it cause for Lucy to bristle at her.

But, oh, did she bristle at the name that suddenly and entirely unexpectedly fell from Jessie’s lips. 

Greta Jurossi

“Did he ever mention her to you?” Jessie asked, suddenly turning to Lucy, her voice raising ever so slightly in pitch, expression smug.

“Yes,” Lucy said, softly. Many times. He had always been forthcoming and honest, when it came to her questions about Greta. She knew that it was hard for him to talk about, and she appreciated how eager he was to answer her queries despite that.

Under the table, she moved her leg to press against his. The softness in his voice when he responded to Jessie caused her to press it a little harder against him. The mention of Greta had not been something he was prepared for, and it had knocked him off kilter. 

“After she died, you went away to war. Kitty said that the sweet boy who left never came back,” Jessie continued, recounting the sad story that both Tommy and Lucy already knew. 

“No one came back,” Tommy’s voice was hoarse. Lucy cocked her head, looking at him sadly. 

Because the way Jessie recalled Kitty Jurossi’s description of Tommy: charming, sweet, loving, sitting at Greta’s side every day when she was sick, holding her hand, tending to her for months until she died, did not sound all that far off from the Tommy she knew. Perhaps he was a little rougher around the edges, a little more worn down from so much pain and hardship. But the sweet boy she spoke of was not nearly so lost as both she or Tommy seemed to think.

“Jessie, that’s enough,” she said harshly, not wanting to see the pain that had sprung up at the mention of Greta in Tommy’s eyes anymore, but Jessie just smiled in mock sweetness and continued on as if she hadn’t even heard her. Lucy would have snapped at her again had it not been for the sudden admiration in her voice as she recounted the stories Kitty had told her about Tommy. Lucy could see it so plainly: Tommy, young, barely a man grown, wrestling furiously with a brute he’d caught beating a horse, striking him savagely and goadingly on the arse with his own whip as the man scrambled away. 

The mental image made her smile a little. 

But as Jessie went on, Tommy grew more agitated, suddenly rising from his seat. Lucy kept her eyes on Jessie’s face. She couldn’t quite figure out how she felt about her. On one hand, she could appreciate some of what Jessie was trying to do. Particularly the push for advancing women’s standings in the workforce. But on the other, her smugness and attitude of moral superiority bothered her. And this…this action of digging up all these things about Greta, then throwing them in his face…they had been calculated. Lucy couldn’t tell if Jessie was simply trying to draw out his past sympathies with the communist cause, or if she was just trying to hurt him.       

Tommy put back on the music Jessie had been listening and dancing to prior to their arrival. 

All smugness left Jessie’s face when Tommy started to relay the information Lucy had gathered previously on her: how her sweetheart had gone off to war, and returned with shell shock so severe that he killed himself. 

Jessie’s face grew haunted, big dark eyes filling with tears, before hastily looking away. And finally, she was serious, answering Tommy’s previous question with only a minimal grumble. But Lucy was still on edge, her protectiveness of Tommy flaring.

It blazed back into full-force when Jessie pulled out a picture Kitty had given her of Greta and Tommy in Blackpool. 

“We’re done here,” Lucy announced, the legs of her chair screaming against the floor as she stood up hastily. She looked at Jessie with quiet rage, and she must have let a little more darkness filter into her eyes than she’d intended, because for a very brief moment, Jessie looked genuinely unnerved by her.

Tommy did not protest her suggestion that they leave, simply gathering up his things, tucking the photograph Jessie had given him into the inner pocket of his coat.  

Lucy, in what was perhaps a somewhat petty display, did not say a word to her as she went to the door and yanked it open, holding it ajar so that Tommy could follow her outside. And she put perhaps a little more force than necessary into her stomps down the stairs, to really telegraph just how she felt about the whole thing. 

“Are you okay?” she asked once they were back out on the street.

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, in a voice that was very much not fine.

“Tommy…”

“Let’s just go home,” he sighed, swiping a hand through his fringe before replacing his cap back on his head. She hovered in close to him as they started to walk, this time not just for the warmth that his body provided. She didn’t say much, knowing better than to try to push him to talk when he was like this.

When they got home, he went upstairs without a word. Asher greeted them at the door, tail wagging, following eagerly at Lucy’s heels when she ascended that stairs after flicking off all the remaining lights that were on in the kitchen.

Tommy was in the process of taking off both his coat and waistcoat, brows creasing in mild frustration when one of the buttons momentarily caught. Lucy swallowed hard at the sorrow in his eyes, her heart aching for him. 

She did not think about Greta all that much. A part of her didn’t particularly like to, because there was always the question, if Greta had not died, if she and Tommy would have even ever gotten together. It made her feel so incredibly guilty, that her happiness with him might have come at the price of the sweet Italian girl’s life. 

Taking a step forward, she took the coat and waistcoat from him.

“Thank you,” he said softly. She just nodded, hanging the coat up on a peg and folding the waistcoat to tuck away in the chest of drawers. He lit a cigarette, then picked back up the photo he’d pulled from his pocket before taking off his coat, looking down at it longingly. Lucy felt something inside her twist.

It was not right to wonder if he loved her as much as he had Greta. There was no competition between them, and it wasn’t logical, or productive, to even consider such things. 

And yet, a tiny part of her brain, the part that she was pretty sure only existed to cause her pain, still mulled it over.

“I’ll be right back,” Tommy said, tucking the photograph into his trousers pocket. 

“Okay,” Lucy said softly. She watched him go, fingers fiddling with her rings long after his figure had disappeared out the door. In his dog bed, Asher whined. “I know, boy,” she soothed, reaching down to stroke his big head, then setting to work changing into one of her nightgowns, folding her clothes with slow, methodical movements and tucking them away beside Tommy’s in the drawers. 

He wasn’t back yet when she went to the washroom to remove her makeup and finish getting ready for bed. She figured he just needed a moment to himself. He’d come back to her. He always did. 

Wiping off the remains of dark eyeliner, she looked at herself in the mirror and frowned.

She’d never thought of herself as particularly pretty. Not with her face full of freckles, eyes that were a few sizes too big to be in proper proportion to the rest of her face, and messy red curls that never seemed to want to cooperate.

Her lips pursed as she took in the dark circles under her eyes–neither she or Tommy had been sleeping very much since this whole thing started–and a hand raised to brush across one of her cheeks. She might’ve been imagining it, but she swore that she’d lost some weight. Not that she couldn’t stand to probably lose a few pounds, but she was starting to look a little gaunt in the face. 

Shaking her head, she poked and pulled a little at her skin for a moment more before stepping out of the washroom and heading back to bed.

Tommy was there when she entered, scratching Asher absentmindedly behind one ear and undoing the laces on his shoes with the other. Lucy approached him slowly, making sure that her footsteps were loud enough so that he would hear her coming up behind him and not be startled. When he kicked off his shoes and straightened, he turned partially, and looped an arm around her shoulders at the same time that she wrapped her own around his waist, hugging his middle with her head on his chest. Tommy’s face dropped down, burying in her hair with a deep sigh. She felt him inhale, breathing in the scent of her soap and perfume, and relaxing a little in her arms. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. There wasn’t much more that she could say. He rubbed her shoulder, giving a small shake of his head. 

“I love you,” he murmured, and she let out a small breath, squeezing him tighter. 

“I love you too,” adjusting her head on him, she considered her next question for a moment before verbalizing it. “Can I see it?”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the photograph and holding it out to her. Taking it carefully by the edges, she eyed the faded, grainy image, smiling softly at the serious look on the younger Tommy’s face. Good to know that it had always been a chore to get him to smile when having his picture taken. 

Greta was beautiful, with dark hair that was carefully done up and slightly stern features. Her dark eyes fixed upon the camera steadily, but despite the seriousness in her face, there was a spark of levity there too. 

“She was pretty,” Lucy commented. Tommy hummed in quiet agreement, hand smoothing down her back, shifting them so that his head was hooked over her shoulder to look at the photograph with her. 

“I think you would have liked her. I know she would have liked you.”

She craned her head back to look at him. “You think so?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, and closed his eyes, turning his face to press a few kisses to her neck. Lucy raised an eyebrow, even as her head tilted to give him better access. 

“I doubt she would have approved of the part where I’ve fucked her lover.”

“I don’t know…she could be pretty open minded too, you know…” Tommy mumbled, and Lucy chuckled. 

“Building quite the harem for yourself there in your head, aren’t you?” 

He snorted, pinching at her hip playfully. “You know what I mean.”

Angling her head back, she looked deep into his eyes, taking in the sincerity in them, understanding what he was trying to get at.

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” she said, more serious. He was right, after all. Everything he’d told her about Greta indicated that she and Lucy would have gotten along very well together. 

“Yeah,” Tommy gave her a sad smile, and she stretched up on her toes to press her forehead against his. His eyes lowered. “Who knows if we would have even stayed together, after I got back from the war.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know,” he sounded so lost and sad. She wanted to cry for him. It was so unfair, that he’d had to experience the loss of not just one, but two women who he’d loved so deeply. 

“Everything that you’ve told me about her indicates to me that she loved you very much.”

Tommy blinked hard, eyes a little glassy, throat working as he swallowed hard. “She loved the person I was before I went away to war,” his thumb circled mindlessly around Lucy’s hip. “I don’t know what she would think of the man who came back.”

Lucy stroked his face, brows pulling together. She could not say whether or not Greta still would have loved him after he returned to war. She would like to think that she would, and nothing that Tommy had told her indicated that Greta would have rejected him after he returned home. But ultimately, she could never say for sure. 

Unsure what she could possibly say to make it any better, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him. Tommy’s arms tightened around her, leaning into the kiss gratefully. 

“We should get some sleep,” she murmured once they’d parted, still caressing one chiseled cheek. 

He hummed, nodding, and took her hand, leading her over to the bed. She climbed in first, and he immediately snuggled against her, their arms wrapping around each other under the blankets, her head on his chest and his face tucked against her hair. 

“I love you,” she repeated, hand trailing along his strong back, feeling the warmth of his skin through the material of his shirt, tracing delicately over the scar on one of his shoulders. Tommy kissed up her neck to her cheek, nuzzling at her like an affectionate cat. 

“I love you too.”

And with her hands tenderly petting his back, she felt him slowly sink into sleep against her. 

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[kalliyen]

Tipsy Confessions

Pairing: Son of Zeus!Jake Sim x Child of Demeter!Reader

Featuring: Son of Dionysus!Jay/Jongseong Park & Daughter of Aphrodite!Kim Ga Eul (of IVE), and others)

Genre: FanFiction, Fluff and kind of mature? Since it contains alcohol but not really….so idk. Tell me if I missed any tho!

Word Count: 627

Reader’s Pronouns: not specified

Picture Credits: Pinterest

Mentions of: Drinking alcohol, Maybe a smooch or two

Disclaimer: Only a work of FICTION! I mean no harm to (members) or the rest of Enhypen, or any other people involved in this fic. This is only for entertainment and to make people happy, I mean no harm to any of the members Thank You.

Author's note: I don't exactly know how Truth or Drink works because I've never had alcohol in my life, but let's just pretend it's played like this, okay? Okay, love ya

What happens when you play Truth or Drink with a son of Zeus? Will it go bad or well? Downhill or uphill? The world may never know. Until you read this of course!

*Line Break check! Enjoy the fic <3*

˃̶༒˂̶ Partaking at a party with a bunch of gods and goddesses probably wasn’t the best way to spend the night.

Dear gods, if your mother could see you know she would probably have a look of displeasure plastered on her usually calm features.

But hey, you aren’t a little godling anymore so you could do whatever you want!

Mostly.

All the gods and goddesses partied like they weren’t immortal already, holding goblets with wine in them, or some other type of alcohol gods fancied these days.

With Jay at the party, people were certainly going to leave pretty ditzy and drowsy, an effect of hanging out with a son of Dionysus I tell you.

Luckily, you were planning on staying sober that night, but your best friend Ga Eul, daughter of Aphrodite, dragged you to a circle of gods, who were seemingly playing Truth or Drink.

“Ga Eul. I told you I don’t want to get drunk tonight!” “Aw c’mon Y/N! Don’t be such a push over. It’s just for fun! Besides, what could go wrong?"

This could go wrong. This is exactly what you were talking about.

Between the circle of gods, the ones you could recognize, was Jay, of course. Yunjin, daughter of Hermes, Dongpyo, son of Apollo, Beomgyu, another son of Hermes, and Jake, son of Zeus.

Jake. You never liked him.

Well, you do like him but you'd never tell anyone that.

He was a flirty god, always making women, goddesses, gods and mortals alike, fall on their knees, but who wouldn't?

He was flirty yes, but never had he made someone a cow, unlike some other god, and he was pretty sweet, well, as 'sweet' as a god can get. Always looking out for mortals too, and quite helpful to his mother, Hera, even when she was a bit...unpredictable at times.

Really, you'd never know what that woman was feeling, it was always like a gamble.

We're getting of topic, so, the game of Truth or Drink began.

"Beomgyu, Truth or Drink, Did you or did you not turn one of your mortal lovers into a flower, because you were afraid of your mother catching you being with a mortal?"

"Yeah it's true, not gonna deny it!"

A bunch of 'ooohhs' were shared across the room, and Jay asked Yunjin, and she drank.

Then it was Jake's turn, "Jake, Will you either, go on a date with the prettiest god/goddess you know, or be turned into a sack of potatoes?"

"Dude, what kind of question is that? Of course the former!"

"Alright, but I wasn't done. Now, you have to ask that 'prettiest god/goddess you know, out on a date!"

"Bet."

You didn't want to sound egotistical or anything, but you kind of caught him looking at you, Ga Eul thought so too as she said "Oooohh!~"

After the party, when you were about to head home, a hand grabbed your wrist and dragged you into the nearest secluded area. It was none other than Jake.

"Jake? What are you doing?"

"Look, Y/N I'm sorry, but uhm, I- I just wanted to as-"

"Is this about the Truth or Drink game we had?"

"Yeah..."

"And you were going to ask me out?"

"Yes...Dang I didn't know you'd get it that fast"

"It's...whatever."

"Yeah, so...uhm..Would you like to..go out with me....sometime?"

He said it so bashfully you were about to laugh, 'He looks so cute. Asking shyly, well I guess I could say yes, I don't have anything to lose anyways..'

"Yeah sure!"

Before he could even register your words, you gave him a kiss on the cheek and went on your way.

Dang, Jake would have to thank Jay for basically landing him a date with the person of his dreams.

BYE I WAS ABOUT TO MAKE THE READER A CHILD OF ATHENA AND THEN I WENT 'oh wait Athena doesn't have kids shi-'

Yeah pretty disappointed with the ending, sorry about that..

I haven't written in so long I'm so sorry I'm rusty 😭

~gods and goddesses mentioned in this fic!~

Zeus-god of all gods, king of Olympus, god of lightning

Hera-goddess of Olympus, marriage, family, birth

Demeter-goddess of agriculture, health

Hermes-god of messengers, travelers, thieves, (some) medicine

Apollo-god of the sun, archery, medicine, prophecy, medicine

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??” 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

I feel bad for makin yall wait for pt 5 of scum of the earth so here's a little peek to hold you over 💕

You were tougher than you looked.

Naoya thought you would crack pretty quick, forty minutes, an hour tops. But there you were across the room, laughing along with his aunts, his little cousins running around and stopping by your side every so often. He watched you lean down and let them whisper something in your ear, taking a long drink when you smiled and looked back at them, telling them something in response. The scene would've usually tugged at his heart strings, made him want to put a baby in you and start a family of your own, but right now it made him sick. You shouldn't be over there: you should be by his side, giggling at his jokes and leaning in when he'd whisper gossip to you. You should've been next to him so he could wrap his arm around you, pull your chair closer to his, maybe move his hand down to your ass and squeeze. He could practically hear you whine in protest, pushing on his chest and pouting, complaining about him being so handsy when people were around–

"Are you listening?"

Naoya sighed, tipping back his glass of whiskey before glancing at the woman beside him. She was the daughter of some big-wig his father had invited, blonde and thin, her spray tan a bit darker than it should be. He was pretty sure her tits were fake too, but he wasn't certain.

"No, not really. What did you say?" She scoffed, leaning towards him, her breasts pressing against the fabric of her chest. Wasn't her outfit a bit too revealing for a black tie event? You were dressed much better than her, more mature, stunning–

"I was saying that I was going to go to Belize next month but Daddy is telling me that I can't go until I act more 'responsible' but like I've already found a super cute bikini and I invited all my friends–"

God, he didn't care, he didn't fucking care. This was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to be doing, listening to some ditzy twig talk about her stupid vacation. He wanted to be beside you, wanted to talk to you. He was still staring at you, wondering if you considered this a vacation before you got mad at him, if this was something you'd want to do again when you weren't so angry, once you'd forgiven him. Maybe he could take you on a trip to Bora Bora to apologize, lavish you with gifts and enough attention to make you sick. He'd love to see you in a slutty lil swimsuit, something small and tight that squeezed you just right. Maybe he could get a private beach so he could keep you away from the lingering gazes of other men. Plus, he could always take your swimsuit off himself on that isolated shore and–

"Oh my God, you're not listening!" Naoya sighed and rolled his eyes, standing up and giving the girl a fake smile.

"Sorry, hun. Gotta go take a piss. Go find somebody else to talk to."

[agent-cupcake]

As a resident Claudefucker, I know am curious to know what our fave charming schemer is doing during this Mafia!AU. He'd look lovely in a suit.

~It was quite the headline when Godfrey Riegan died. The details are a little hazy, a little convenient, but people don't talk about that sort of thing. Car accidents are common. Tragic, but not unreasonable. There’s no reason to smear a man’s perfectly respectable political career for the sake of some sensational gossip.

~In the right circles, however, there was a huge uproar, questions about who was going to take over the Riegan family when the elderly boss Oswald died. The Riegan’s had been dominating Leicester for quite some time, but a lot of people began to predict that the Gloucester family was going to move in. They had powerful friends, it seemed. Friends with money, no less.

~Claude Riegan, grandson of Oswald, appeared out of nowhere just when he was needed. Stories of the lost daughter Tiana still circulated, sure, but there were still a lot of questions about Claude’s origins when nobody except Oswald were able to vouch for him. He obviously had military leadership experience—his skill with guns and ability to lead was just too excellent for any other explanation—but he dismissed the question out of hand. There’s no documentation of him, either, leading some to wonder if even his name was false. But Oswald said he was family, and that was that.

~Claude was quick to establish himself, in any case. Despite his cavalier attitude, his efficacy in overhauling the power dynamics of Leicester were profound.  

~He decided, first and foremost, that the way to win the people over was to invigorate the local culture, which had seen a sharp decline as a result of new laws that were unfavorable to business, Adrestia’s growing market monopolies, and the bad reputation of the red light district Ailell. This included some perfectly legitimate campaigning and some under the table type schemes. 

~The result was a flourishing Derdriu Street. While it lacks the prestige of Enbarr Square in Adrestia, it welcomes entertainment that would be considered too “low brow” like comedy, trendy new restaurants, and music venues. Even better, all of it is built on the recently cleaned up river. The Riegan family is involved in all of  it, of course. 

~Casino owner Claude. This exists solely to thirst but maybe it was preexisting and he took it over due to its poor management? If there’s going to be gambling anyway, it should be done right. The extra money’s not so bad, either. But, Claude lounging in a big leather chair in a dark blue blazer with gold brocade, his white shirt unbuttoned low enough to see enough his chest. Enough to make you drool. Enough that you’d definitely get caught staring and probably called out for it because he can’t help himself. Claude with his elbows on the arm rests and fingers folded in front of him as he considers you, gold rings winking because he’s just that ostentatious and appearances are important. Claude asking you how you feel about taking risks in a way that really feels like it has nothing to do with cards, staring at you with a friendly smile that doesn’t meet those calculating eyes—eyes that you know will pick up on every tell. 

~Claude also struck a deal with the Kupala Distillery. They’d been fighting to keep hold of their historic business for years, and Claude offered to help them with that. You know, not for free, but he’s good at making deals that leave everybody happy. 

~The second biggest thing he tackled was the drug trade. For the most part, no one family had ever had a complete handle on that market. The Goneril’s had a hold over the docks for years, but the Edmunds had been moving in and working with the Gloucester family to bolster their power. Distribution was scattered and hard to keep track of as it ultimately circulated wherever there was a profit to be made. Looking at it like this, Claude decided that the only way to fix things was to take control over all of it. In his line of work, shady things like the drug trade are impossible to avoid. At the very least, if he has control over it, he can ensure the product is clean and expel far more unsavory ventures.

~Through these escapades, Claude was able to make alliances with all of the major families. A lot of them had only remained loyal to the Gloucester family out of fear so as soon as they had an alternative, they bolted. This has an unfortunate side effect of revealing how his power is perceived. Every day is a balancing act for Claude. He allows each family to function as they please as long as they’re aware they do so at his mercy. It’s better to keep friends than to control enemies, but even that requires a delicate maneuvering of power.

~However, Claude likes the conflict. He enjoys the game and he especially enjoys winning the game. There’s a certain level of his excusing amorality for the sake of his family and Leicester, but there’s an equal part of him that understands his wrongdoings and deals with it separately. He wouldn’t hold to the naïve “ends justify the means” idea to excuse himself, but he would still argue that his actions have value and are even necessary. If it weren’t him, it would be somebody a lot worse than him. That’s probably something that would linger in the back of everybody’s minds whenever they shook his hand or paid their respects, whenever they began to think of how easy it would be to take him out. Fear, too. So far, Claude’s never done anything shockingly bad, only what was necessary. But with his power and intellect, it’s always a question of what he could do.

~If someone asked him that, Claude would smile that friendly smile and tell them that he would do anything to see his vision made real. Whether or not that’s true remains to be seen. 

~Luckily, Claude’s not alone! Hilda is the stereotypical crime family princess. She joined Claude because he offered her freedom from the overbearing control of her father and brother. Her skill in manipulating everybody around her combined with her reputation as a ditzy rich girl makes her fantastic at gathering information, assuming Claude can get her to do so. But, as long as he’s not being too forceful, she’s surprisingly motivated to weave her way through social circles and charm everyone. Although she would never say it, the order he brought to Leicester, not to mention the entertainment, made everything a lot better for her and her family. Plus, she likes being useful after spending her entire life watching Holst give his heart and soul to family while she did nothing. Ultimately, the information she provides is essential and her relationship with Claude is one of the few either have that’s built on trust, respect, and loyalty. That said, sometimes even Claude gets a little shiver as he watches how easily Hilda can manipulate people.  

~Lorenz was one of Claude’s most disdainful detractors, although a part of that was jealousy. Claude just swept in and did things that Lorenz had been waiting and planning to do once he became the head of the Gloucester family. Even after being on the receiving ends of such vicious attacks, once Claude undeniably had the upper hand in Leicester, he went behind the Gloucester boss’s back to Lorenz and told him that they were going to be friends or enemies, it was Lorenz’s choice. Not threatening him, just pointing out that the fall of the Gloucester family was inevitable under his father’s leadership and that Lorenz didn’t have to suffer for his father’s sins. Probably over mimosas and brunch. Lorenz is proud and has no appreciation for Claude, but he’s not stupid. After they worked out their disagreements and more or less accepted each other, Lorenz and Claude became pretty close. Claude knows that having someone to openly and aggressively disagree with him isn’t a bad thing. Not only that, but Lorenz’s a solid ally with a better grasp on some of the things Claude has difficulty with due to not being a native. Lorenz is willing to admit that Claude is a good leader.

~Marianne is well educated in the realm of the law and political action. The reason the Edmund family saw such success despite their lesser status was because of her adopted father’s genius. which he made sure to share with Marianne. She is invaluable in aiding Claude on the perfectly legitimate side of his business, and helping him hide his tracks for the shady stuff. Raphael is the muscle. Lysithea is a computer genius. Being a sickly shut in with issues that only recently saw treatment, she’s on the Mr. Robot level of hacker mode activated. Ignatz is an architect which is useful since so much of Claude’s power is in the property and infrastructure. He also designed a lot of places to have some neat-o hidey holes. Claude loves buildings that have secrets. Leonie is manages a lot of the physical and pettier side of the work. If someone’s stirring up trouble, she’s likely to pay them a visit as a warning before Claude has to get involved. She used to be a mercenary but being on Claude’s payroll is a lot better of a gig.    

~As for the suits, one thing is very important. Claude would not, under any circumstances, wear something tight on his thighs. I actually kind of like the idea of him going for a 1980′s style modernized. In his post timeskip outfit, he’s already got a hint of that going on with how oversized his outfit looks. The 80′s (rightfully) gets a bad rep for fashion, but it’s also very iconic with those wide-collared suit jackets, matchy-matchy three piece suits, sportscoats with a fun patterned shirt underneath, open blazers, pleated pants with an oversized jacket, and—in particular—the trend of summer suits in shades of tan and cream with colored shirts underneath. Then, combine that with a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators and a topless convertible and you’ve got a distinctly recognizable mob boss who doubles as a devastating heartthrob. I’m not saying he’d do a 1:1 recreation, but you’d definitely see references to the fashion of the era in his outfits. He would wear oxfords or ankle boots. Whatever it was, they’d have to be comfortable. He also doesn’t shy away from jewelry. The earring, of course, and rings when he's feeling particularly decadent. When he’s wearing his shirts unbuttoned Claude could possibly wear a gold chain. I mean, what are you gonna say, no? That gold doesn’t look gorgeous against his skin? That it’s tacky? You’re talking to the man who wore quilted pants. Claude’s not afraid to stand out because he knows he will anyway, nor is he afraid to be seen as unfashionable because he doesn’t particularly care about trends. I also enjoy the idea of him emulating the 80′s as someone who didn’t grow up in a western culture and thus mainly saw things through the lens of movies. Whatever he wears, however, he would look very handsome.

[thetombedspirit]

Monster High Movie: I Liked It

I honestly thought that it was a decent film. It had a good plot premise, I like what they did with most of the characters and the songs were killer.

But, before I get into things that I like, I’m gonna get into things I didn’t like.

1. Lagoona’s personality and character design

I did not like what they did with Lagoona in this reboot. I always loved how supportive and wise she was, giving good advice to her friends when they needed it. And she looked so cool in the previous rendition. And now she’s a ditzy, rainbow colored piranha whose best friends with Toralei?! Just... why did they have to do my girl like this? Her name is Lagoona Blue! WHY IS SHE PINK?!? She and Clawdeen have always been my favorites.

2. Ghoulia’s personality and ability of speech

I know it shouldn’t bother me as much, but I don’t like how they did Ghoulia. Not only did they make her talk now, but now she’s not the smartest ghoul in school, in favor of making Frankie the smart one. Instead, they made her a little kooky. Like, that’s not at all a bad thing, but I just wish she was kooky and smart. Maybe like Alex (Queen) from Nine Realms. Like, I would imagine her signing something and Cleo just being like “... good Ra, Ghoulia...”

3. No Jackson and Holt

Like, it sorta boggles me that they brought in Jekyll and Hyde, but they didn’t make the narrative about Jackson and Holt. Like, I feel like if done correctly, it could have been such a heartwarming side story on how despite the hardships, they realized they can’t be one without the other.

4. Witch Draculaura???

While, I don’t mind and actually like the idea of witchcraft being strictly a human practice, I don’t see why Draculaura had to do magic. Like, if you wanted to give her a conflict with her dad, I know how. Wanna know how? Draculaura’s vegetarianism. Like, in this universe, Dracula is a pretty big deal now (in the regular installment, he was apparently just a dude) but now he’s like a big name in the Monster World, to the point where’s he’s one of the school’s donors. So imagine the shame Dracula and Draculaura would feel if people knew that she didn’t want to eat humans. I just feel like that would be more then enough.

And I know, vegetarian vampire, what a cliché. But you know the other word for cliché? Classic. 

Anyway, now that the stuff I didn’t like is out of the way, let’s dive into the things I did like.

1. The Plot Premise

As previously mentioned, Clawdeen is my favorite character next to Lagoona, so I was quite happy with her taking center stage as main monster, especially with the route they were going for this reboot, with Clawdeen being ‘half’ monster (even though werewolves are technically already half human) but that just brings up my next point. If monsters like werewolves have always been excluded from Monster High, and Clawdeen was brought in for like a probationary period to prove that half-monsters belong, could be an awesome narrative. But I digress.

2. Frankie being smart

This may not need any say, but I genuinely like the direction they went with Frankie being so smart with all different brain parts. Cause if you watched the original movie for Frankenstein’s Monster, then you would know that a large factor into why he went haywire was because he had a ‘criminal’ brain. So Frankie being super smart, creative and having a problem solver aptitude would be awesome. And you can even go deeper into this narrative, like how Frankie was designed to be better then Stein’s last creation and that could put a lot of pressure on them to be the better student and better child then her ‘big brother’ who could fit the narrative of ‘collage dropout’. Just a thought.

3. Deuce Gorgon

I really like what they did with Deuce. Like, it’s not that G1 Deuce was a bad character, I just feel like if this guy was gonna be the only dude to be a part of the theme song, then he needed to be more then the boyfriend for one of the girls. The depth that they give Deuce in the movie was pretty well done for a movie of it’s quality. Making him have a bit of a rep as a dangerous bad boy trying to be better is a good direction that puts Deuce in the spotlight.

And side note, I don’t hate the Deuce x Clawdeen ship in this movie. Like I said before, I didn’t mind the Deuce x Cleo relationship, but I genuinely like the direction in this reboot with them being exes, because it gives both Deuce and Cleo a chance to develop. And last I checked, Monster High isn’t a love story. It’s a story about being excepted for who you are, ‘freaky flaws and all’. Not to mention that regardless of the relationships in previous installments, doesn’t change the fact that this version of Clawdeen and Deuce have good chemistry.

Those are the key features for me. If a ship has good chemistry, is written well and works in the context of the story then it’s fine with me.

Full disclosure, the movie isn't as bad as I feared. I just feel like that if more thought and effort was put into it, it could have been so much better.