#Riot Club fanfiction

[blac-ivy]

Bitches complain about fandoms being dead but don't post about it themselves. Or even encourage the 4 or 5 writers breaking their backs carrying that fandom, with a like, a reblog or comment. You just want to consume the work and energy of others and can't even replenish their energy by showing your appreciation. The very least you can do for someone who provides entertainment or comfort or joy through their posts is give them a little ❤️

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

[jennsterjay]

If You Take a Leap

Format: Fan-fiction

Rating: Not Rated

Summary:

“Hahah…so Miles, do you have any plans for today?” Hobie asked with an innocent smile.

By now Miles knew how this question went, he knew Hobie’s play like the back of his hand. When Hobie asked this question and knew you weren’t doing anything, this was his chance to pull you into an adventure.

Whether it was a stroll in the park or a battle against a world-ending phenomenon, only the spin of a wheel could take a guess.

Read on Ao3 and read an excerpt down below, and enjoy X'D

--

Miles and Hobie looked at each other, before Hobie left his side to retrieve the football; and gave an award-winning throw to the beachgoer. Another easy task for a Spider-Man.

“Yooo nice throw!! Y'all wanna play a game with us!?” The teen said from afar, with the interested looks of 4 others behind him.

Hobie chuckles and looks back at Miles with a smile.

“What about it, wanna go have some fun?” Hobie asked.

“Sure, why not?” Miles said as he got up and dusted himself off.

“Just don’t blame the patriarchy when you lose” Miles said with a smirk and a playful nudge before he held an ‘L’ above his head and jogged towards the other four.

Hobie gave a toothy grin of his own as he watched him go before he said to himself….

“I don’t mind a challenge, luv…it’s not the first time I’ve caught a Prowler”.

[cafalla]

Game Informer Magazine (November 2019, Issue 319) Scans

I try to focus on mainly scanning older items, but I found this Game Informer magazine and couldn't pass it up.

I mean gosh, anything pre-Covid may as well be a relic, right? (jkjk)

Unfortunately the front cover is a bit damaged, but I still really love this art collage of Pikachu and the Sword and Shield starters!

Here's some scans from this issue that I like!

Starting off, here's the fanart page.

These fanart/personal creation corners are my favorite pages in hobby magazines. It makes me so nostalgic for being a preteen and wanting to make and submit my own art in hopes of it being featured!

When I was about 13, I was obsessed with DeviantArt. My dad showed me how to use the scanner so I could scan my own art and post it (on the family computer, of course). My sister came to me one day and asked me to scan her comic that she wanted to submit to the in-game Club Penguin newspaper/magazine.

I didn't play Club Penguin much (I was a Neopets girl), but I fondly remember her being so proud of that comic. I helped her scan and submit it, and asked her every day if it got put into the paper. I don't think it ever did, but it was a fun time waiting to see if it would.

Speaking of Neopets, I also really loved the Neopets paper. I'd spend hours browsing backlogs of the paper to look at the fanart and read the fanfiction that was posted there.

Good times!

----

I thought this League of Legends art was super neat, but the whole premise of this article is hilarious to me.

Like...ok, Riot/League. iykyk.

I'm a fairly new League of Legends player - I started playing after watching Arcane. My bf has been an on-again off-again League player, but I was always too intimidated to get into it. I actually got into it first from Team Fight Tactics, and then started playing ARAM, and only recently started dipping my toes into Summoner's Rift.

Anyways, as much as I love the game, people can be SO mean. So just seeing the article title and thinking of all the rudeness I've seen in-game is pretty funny. I know a lot of good people play and work on this game though, so I appreciate the optimism and work to make the community better.

Granted, this article isn't only about League of Legends. But I think having them as the front cover for the article is kind of hilarious.

----

As a Pokémon fan, I thought this top ten page was a fun look at past gym leaders, especially considering the cover story for this issue is about the new (at the time) Pokémon mainline games.

The judging criteria is not clear at all. That's ok, there doesn't need to be a reason to do a top ten list - I'm assuming these are just this guy's favorite gym leaders. It is refreshing to see some leaders who don't normally wind up on these kinds of lists though, like Wulfric, Maylene, and Korrina.

This is really wanting to make me go back and play Let's Go! Pikachu lol.

----

Ok, so admittedly I knew nothing about Baldur's Gate 3 until the day it came out and I was like 'What the heck is this game everyone on my friend's list is playing?"

My bf ended up buying it for me and we played it co-op. Definitely deserved all the hype and praise it got.

So color me surprised when I was flipping through this magazine from 2019 and saw mention of Baldur's Gate 3.

There's a whole interview in here with the founder of the BG3 game studio. I knew this game was in development for many years, but I just completely missed the hype leading up to it.

----

Now some scans from the main cover story about Pokémon Sword and Shield.

These aren't all the scans from the spread, but I just wanted to show some of them off! I love multi-page stories about things where they feel almost like scrapbooks with how the graphics are arranged.

----

Here's a preview about the Final Fantasy VII Remake.

I've never played a Final Fantasy game, and though I'd love to someday, I'd have no clue where to start. I do love the character designs and I thought this game looked beautiful when it was announced.

And some more previews for various games.

Little Town Hero was actually on my radar at the time, as it gave big Fantasy Life vibes (and I LOVED Fantasy Life). Also, I just learned from this article that Toby Fox was brought in to compose? Amazing.

I looked it up and it's available on Steam, but disappointingly the reviews seem pretty mixed. I'm gonna add it to my wishlist and grab it when it goes on sale.

----

Here's a couple of reviews from the review section.

And an ending fluff page about creepy Pokémon pokedex entries.

And that's it for this one!

The full magazine is available to read over on my Internet Archive account.

Thanks for reading!

[imgoingtocryplease]

First Post/Introduction :D

Hello everybody!

My name is Venus, I use he/him/they/them pronouns, transgender Female to Male, pansexual, and am a 18+ blog :)

My goal (as an able-bodied and predominantly white looking person) is to make all of my writing as neutral as possible so many people can read them; if there is a specific disability, religion, skin color or condition, or anything like that thing y'all want me to add please tell me and I will do my best to meet y'alls expectations. :) If there is anything I can approve on please tell me! I appreciate all constructive criticism. I plan to write x reader fanfiction or headcannons (mostly whatever y'all want) but I will not write: female readers; incest; pedophilia; adult x minor relationships; zoophilia; cannibalism; necrophilia; dubcon; rape; suicide; anything non consensual. Please respect my boundaries when asking or commenting on my page.

I will write for the following shows/movies/manga: (ALL CHARACTERS HAVE TO BE 18 OR OLDER IF SEXUAL) Haikyu!!; My Hero Academia / Boku no Hero Academia; Spy x Family; Chainsaw Man; Hunter x Hunter; Attack on Titan; Toilet-bound Hanako-Kun; given; Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid; Charlotte; Toradora!; Kaguya-Sama: Love is War; Ouran High School Host Club; Cowboy Bebop; Demon Slayer / Kimetsu no Yaiba; Legend of Zelda series, Boys Run The Riot; Fruits Basket; Assassination Classroom; The Promised Neverland; Love me for who I am; Our Dreams at Dusk; Wolf Children; Weathering With You; Totoro; Ponyo; Spirited Away. (might add more later; brain is foggy)

I will write for the following video games: (ALL CHARACTERS HAVE TO BE 18 OR OLDER IF SEXUAL) Red Dead Redemption 2; Undertale; Deltarune; Road 96; Animal Crossing New Horizons; Detroit Become Human; Resident Evil series; Legend of Zelda series; Splatoon 2 & 3; Pokémon Legends: Arceus; Persona 5; FNAF Series; Stardew Valley. (might add more later; brain is foggy)

I will always prioritize school so I might not respond to requests or comments quickly, please understand this.

But as always, have fun :)

[geezerwench]

[Hamilton Fandom] The HIV+ high school AU/cannibal mermaid Hamilton fanfiction incident self.HobbyDrama

submitted 3 years ago by iwasonceafangirl Best of 2019-20

I know I said I was going to do a writeup about YA Twitter drama next, but then I remembered that this is a thing that happened and I just had to post it here. I swear to god, I am not making any of this up.

This is one of those incidents that’s difficult to summarize because I honestly don’t even know where to begin. There’s so much to talk about that it’s almost overwhelming—sockpuppeting, medical fraud, false identities, and god-knows-what else all played a part in making this drama one of the biggest scandals in Tumblr history (or, at least, the biggest scandal that doesn’t involve illegally mailing body parts to people via the United States Postal Service. Don’t even ask.) Now, you may be thinking that the title probably makes more sense in context, but I can assure you that it absolutely does not. It’s just as insane as it sounds at first glance. To make it abundantly clear how nuts this whole debacle was, I should probably start by detailing Hamilton and its obsessive fandom.

Hamilton is a Broadway musical that came out a few years ago, and unless you live under a rock, you’ve probably heard someone at least mention it in passing. It’s one of the most successful shows in recent history, and it’s beloved by tumblr.com for a variety of reasons. The main, though not sole, reason is that it’s actually really good (and I say this as someone who isn’t a crazy theatre kid.) It focuses on the life of Alexander Hamilton from his arrival in the Thirteen Colonies to his death during a duel with Aaron Burr, and it’s all done surprisingly well for a musical that attempts to tell a story about the American Revolutionary War via rap battles. It’s one of the few shows in the world that can get away with including stage directions like “ELIZA BEATBOXES MATERNALLY” and still be taken completely seriously by both fans and critics.

Reason number two why Tumblr loves Hamilton is the same reason Tumblr loves the MCU and Superwholock and all the other franchises it obsesses over. There are lots of male characters and thus lots of potential slash ships (ships meaning relationships.) If you’re wondering why on Earth anyone would want to ship the Founding Fathers with one another… well, join the club. I have no idea. But some fans really liked the idea of Alexander Hamilton and [insert literally any other character] hooking up, so Hamilton the musical spawned an abundance of fan fiction and fan art featuring the signatories of the US Constitution. Keep in mind, though, that by Tumblr standards, this is not that weird. A little unusual, sure, and certainly less common than traditional fictional character shipping, but nobody’s really going to start a riot because people want John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton to have sex. This is Tumblr we’re talking about. Remember how I mentioned people mailing human body parts to one another? In comparison to those incidents, shipping the Founding Fathers is not that strange, so the rabid Hamilton fans were mostly ignored by the rest of the site. And this allowed their community to grow quite large. Nobody wanted to be the one to poke at the hornet’s nest that was the rapidly developing hive of Hamilton-obsessed fans, so they all just kind of let It be. And, in the complete absence of outside scrutiny, that community grew and grew and grew. By 2015, the amount of people who dedicated countless hours to writing Hamilton fic was far greater than anyone could have imagined.

One of the many Hamilton fics floating around on Tumblr was a piece entitled “To Scale the Blue Sky,” which was an alternate universe fanfic set in a high school. Again, taking the Founding Fathers and putting them in an American high school in the 1980s a la Clone High may sound bizarre, but that’s such a common fan fiction trope that people didn’t even question it. There are probably more high school AUs on Tumblr than there are stars in the sky at this point. The unique thing about “To Scale the Blue Sky,” though, was that it addressed an important issue affecting the LGBT community in the ‘80s: HIV and AIDS. This is a story in which Alexander Hamilton, the guy who appears on the $10 bill, gets HIV while in high school. And, ordinarily, this type of writing would have rung at least a few alarm bells; after all, fan fiction is generally not the best way to address the AIDS epidemic and the deaths resulting from its mismanagement. But “To Scale The Blue Sky” was cut some slack, partially because of who its authors were.

The main author of “To Scale The Blue Sky” was Israa, a nonbinary Chinese-Pakistani victim of sex trafficking. The other, mostly uncredited author was Israa’s wife Raj, a Catholic-Somali lesbian of color. Both were HIV+, and they ran a popular blog about how the disease impacted their lives, which was entitled hivliving. They used hivliving as a platform for activism, but also a way to share their personal experiences with various forms of trauma and discuss how being HIV+ has impacted them. They also occasionally used it to promote their fanfiction.

Unfortunately, just as hivliving was reaching the height of its popularity, Raj and/or Israa suffered some terrible, debilitating medical issue that left them in need of expensive medical treatment right away. A cash.me link was posted, and thousands of followers who credited the couple for educating them about HIV and helping them through their own diagnoses jumped at the chance to donate. And everything went exactly as planned, up until fellow Tumblr user digoxin-purpurpea noticed something was up with the cash.me.

Digoxin-purpurpea was another Hamilton fan, and she also went by the names digitalis, candiru, and cardiotoxin (this is less suspicious than it sounds; most Tumblr fanfic writers use different usernames for different fan fiction sites.) Under the blog name Cardiotoxin, digoxin-purpurpea messaged Israa and Raj shortly after the cash.me was posted, saying that she had a difficult time believing they were truly living in India, because the cash.me indicated they were within the United States. One thing led to another, and long story short, the mod of hivliving wound up making a huge confession: she didn’t live in India, and she didn’t have HIV. Israa and Raj don’t exist. The real person behind the blog, and behind “To Scale The Blue Sky,” was an American college student, Alix. That may not be her real name, but I’ll refer to her as such for the purpose of this post.

This, predictably, caused an uproar. Alix later tried to backtrack by saying that Israa and Raj were digital personas based on real people, but it later came out that not even that was true. Their lives and backstories were entirely made up just so Alix had an excuse to write HIV+ High School AU fan fiction about Alexander Hamilton without being judged too harshly for it. By pretending to be a woman with HIV+, she could deflect any questions about whether writing this type of thing is really okay by claiming that it was a coping mechanism to deal with her own disease. She also made up the additional sympathetic pieces of Israa and Raj’s tragic backstories because they made people more likely to feel bad for the couple and support them financially. Finally, their Somalian, Chinese, and Pakistani heritage allowed Alix, a white girl, to be put on lists of POC writers that she never would have been able to get onto had she not lied about her identity. Basically, Alix made up two entire people and started a HIV support blog exclusively to promote “To Scale the Blue Sky” and works like it.

Naturally, when it came out to everyone that Alix was a liar and Israa and Raj weren’t real people, a lot of fans were very upset, especially those who had donated to their bullshit cash.me. They demanded their money back, and Alix agreed to refund them, but that never actually happened. Meanwhile, other people started digging up dirt on Digoxin-purpurpea, as some people were concerned that she’d also been making things up in order to get rid of hivliving and boost her own popularity. What they found was, arguably, even stranger than a plot to reduce her competition by scrubbing hivliving from the internet—Digoxin-purpurpea was a relatively well-known author of real-person supernatural fanfiction. No, not Supernatural TV show fanfiction—I mean stories about ghosts, mermaids, and other mythical creatures, having sex with each other and real people.

At around the time Alix started asking for donations while posing as Israa and Raj, Digoxin-purpurpea was being criticized for various bizarre works she’d written, among them things like ghost!Hamilton erotica and at least one work in which Lin-Manuel Miranda, who plays Hamilton, is a cannibalistic mermaid. People quickly realized that Digoxin-purpurpea wasn’t dragging Alix for purely selfless reasons. Alix and her friends had made fun of Digoxin-purpurpea for her weird and “problematic” stories, so Digoxin-purpurpea exacted revenge by exposing Alix.

After this revelation, both Digoxin-purpurpea and Alix deleted the majority of their work, which was unsurprising, considering how much the rest of Tumblr was making fun of them. Hivliving shut down, which was to be expected, seeing as the people who ran the blog were actually one person who didn’t actually have HIV. And, finally, Tumblr learned a valuable lesson about donating to gofundmes and cash.mes without doing adequate research first. People continue to ask for money for various causes online, but Tumblr users are a lot more skeptical now, because you never know when that baby with cancer or that woman with cerebral palsy are actually just crazy Hamilton fans using medical conditions as an excuse to write stories about the Founding Fathers having unprotected sex in a high school.

[atlaswav]

FIRESIDE ✦

INFO: atla jet x gn! reader drabble, 1.4k words...... (bad writing i'm not proud💀) SYNOPSIS: you're the damsel in distress that falls for your saving grace. or: delusion WARNINGS: tiny bit of blood AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read (it wasn't supposed to be this long), I wrote this post without making it a proper fic to make up for the lack of jet fanfictions anywhere please take my contribution 😞 listen to fireside by the arctic monkeys 👍

You're a travelling merchant dealing in handmade weapons. Your craft is passed down in your family, and you recently left your hometown on your own for the first time to travel to Ba Sing Se to make a living there.

The day you two first met, you'd been on your horse all day, dragging behind you a creaky stand containing your life’s worth of materials and weapons (rattling with each step – it was beginning to grate on your nerves) with no signs of the glaring sun easing on your weary limbs. So when the forest suddenly falls far too silent for your liking, you don’t even notice in your heat stricken malady.

It’s only when a group of bandits abruptly seizes the reins of your horse, sawing loose your saddle straps when you realise you’re under attack. But by then, they’re already beginning to rifle through your belongings as you fall unceremoniously onto the hard dirt path, wincing as a bandit grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you up. 

You reach for the sword at your belt – the one that you crafted yourself under the guidance of your father once he’d deemed you skilled enough – but you didn’t even need to draw it before a bird call sounded amidst the cacophonous riot.

Emerging from the thick treeline, a band of – kids? Jumped out, wielding perilously sharp and comically large weapons for their ages and sizes. The bandits scoffed at their appearance, brandishing their vicious looking blades at the children who charged at them. 

Then the vice-like grip on your shoulders eased, and a hand appeared in the peripherals of your vision.

As you took the hand being offered – calloused and rough, yet warm – your saviour gave you a cursory glance, checking you for injury. When he finally met your gaze, you both froze in place.

Warm eyes, tanned skin, dark, unruly hair that loosely framed his face. In his other hand he held two long, hooked swords that gleamed in the harsh light. 

Jet couldn’t tell whether you were simply shocked or there was something wrong – either way, there was a fight surging around you, and there was no time for greetings and formalities.

(if you looked for any longer, you’d have seen the slight blush dusting his cheeks)

“Behind,” You had no time to process his meaning before he stepped in front of you, meeting the serrated blade of the bandit with his own weapons in a deafening clash of steel. You quickly drew your sword and slashed at the arm of another bandit whose club soared a high arc above Jet’s head, eliciting a howl of pain as they dropped the club onto the ground and scrambled for the trees.

You two seemed to make a pretty good pair. 

After the dust had settled, he offered you his flask of water, chest heaving, hair clinging to his forehead with perspiration, with a grin playing across his face.

“Thank you.” You take it, drinking your fill before capping the container. “But who are you?”

“We’re the freedom fighters.” His companions wave at you as they attempt to salvage the wreckage of your goods (which you supposed you should’ve also been doing, but you’d had a long day).

“And you?”

“They call me Jet.” he smiles, a glint in his eyes. “But you can call me whatever you want.”

I hate myself for writing that line but I can’t think of another thing for him to say

Anyway time skip a little, he showed you to the freedom fighter’s hideout, and you decide to pay them back for saving you by giving their weapons a little maintenance

They offer you further kindness by inviting you to stay for dinner, to which you accept – what choice did you have after the bandits spoiled most of your food on the ground?

You sharpen some swords, polish some daggers, and share a meal with the ragtag freedom fighters around the fire, laughing along with crude jokes shared about clumsy bandits. 

Then Jet comes up to you with his hooked swords hanging loosely from his grip – offering them to you for maintenance – and your curiosity gets the better of you.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” You observe the craftsmanship of his swords, testing their balance, running your finger along the blade’s hooked ends.

“Pretty neat, huh? They’re Tiger Blades. Traditional weapon.”

“Where’d you get them?”

“Stole it from a firebending soldier.”

You raised your eyebrows skeptically. “You fight off firebending soldiers regularly?”

A grin. “When the job calls for it.”

“That’s not… dangerous?”

“You’ve seen me fight, haven’t you?”

In the firelight, his eyes are alight with molten gold. 

“So your job isn’t just saving random people from bandits?”

He laughs, and the sound fills the air between you with warmth. 

“I wouldn’t say you’re a random person,” you look up, but his gaze is cast into the fire, unreadable. 

When he doesn’t say anything further, you sustain the silence, only rummaging through your bags to find another stone to sharpen his blade with before the thought occurs to you. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, I’d rather not try to sharpen this blade. I don’t know how.” you attempt to hand it back, but he stops you.

“I can show you,” he leaves the unspoken question hanging in the air, watching you with a certain hopefulness in his eyes.

You nod wordlessly, and you hand him the stone, watching him tie his hair up. His brows furrow as he angles the blade, quickly running the stone along its edge. But you can’t focus on the blade – not really – as the firelight illuminates his features, basking them in a soft glow. 

“It’s not that hard – well it won’t be, for someone as experienced as you.” 

You’re grateful for the dim light, or he would’ve seen the blush highlighting your cheeks. 

“You just guide the stone along the edge as usual,” he absently says under his breath, “and use more force here.”

You nod blankly as he turns back to you, handing you the blade and the stone. 

“There you go.” 

You move to grab the handle of the blade, but your finger catches on its edge, drawing blood.

“Shit,” you lick the blood off your finger, wincing slightly as it rapidly flows out. 

“Sorry, I –”

“No, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t careful.” you shake your hand, grimacing at the throbbing pain. 

“Smellerbee, could you fetch the bandages?”

“What? Why me?”

“Just – do it. Please.”

Smellerbee grumbles something under his breath as he leaves.

You nurse your injured finger as it pulsates, face drawn in pain.

“You have a little something –” 

“Huh?” your gaze flickers between him and your finger, unsure of what he means. 

“Here,” his fingers graze your chin as he wipes off blood from your face – from the initial injury, when you tried to lick up the blood from your wound. 

Your face heats up as his touch lingers, skimming across your chin to your cheek. 

He’s utterly captivated, it seems. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

He snatches his hand away with a look of guilt, and you turn away. “Ah. Smellerbee.”

“...I’ll leave the bandages here.”

“Thanks.”

“.........Don’t mention it.”

He bandages your finger with deft movements. Neither of you speak a word, but nothing needs to be said. The tension between you is electric, and any onlooker can tell with a mere glance (especially after Smellerbee went and groaned about the two of you to Pipsqueak and Longshot).

After he bandages your finger, he gets up from his place at the fire. 

“You’re staying the night, right?” 

You nod.

“Smellerbee will show you to your tent.” your disappointment must be visible on your face, because he huffs a laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t. I have duties to attend to. But you’ll be here for breakfast, right?”

You nod. He seemed to have that speechless effect on you.

“Right then, uh, goodnight.” he smiles, appearing to hesitate for a moment before walking off. 

“You guys are gross.” Smellerbee mutters from beside you. 

“What?”

“Gross. Look at what you do to him. And don’t you give me that clueless look or I swear.”

Neither of you could sleep that night.

(but when you woke up there was a bright basket of fresh berries arranged with little flowers throughout it at the door of your tent. You can only wonder who sent it, and why there was a note reading “sorry about your finger, please let me make it up to you.”)

written by @atlaswav, published 3rd of March 2024

[ijustwant2write]

Them Cheating On You

Trying something different, I got this request below and thought I would do small blurbs on each. 

Masterlist

Requested by anonymous: 

‘Alrighty I got three requests to ask of you!

Harry Villers angst

Tommy Shelby angst

Bjorn Ironside angst

Basically I wonder what would happen with a cheating kind of thing. Would the reader get back with them or would they say “uh bu-bye bye”’

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Cheating, arguing, shouting, mention of sex and death

(A/N: I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING!!! IT’S THE ONE OF THE LOWEST THINGS A PERSON CAN DO!)

Harry Villiers

(GIF credit to @judediangelo​)

I was a fucking idiot. Why did I think he would change? Why did I think our relationship would be different? He was like that snake in the Garden of Eden, if you wanted to be really metaphorical. Slithering his way towards you, and you know it was wrong to even pay attention to him but you couldn’t help it; he tempted you to do things, he charmed you to think that you were missing out on so much, and the only way to really start living life was to be with him.

I could feel eyes on me as I walked through the halls at uni, wishing I could storm through the crowds without attracting any attention. This was humiliating, it was mortifying! I had ignored friends, ignored the rumours about him, ignored the red flags that were practically slapping me in the face. I had always said I would never fall for someone like Harry Villiers, I wouldn’t be one of those girls that fell into these kind of traps. So why was I here? Because I couldn’t resist those gorgeous eyes...no those betraying eyes!

I knocked hard on his door repeatedly until he opened it, leaning against the door frame. He looked me up and down with a smirk, shirt on but not buttoned up, hair slightly messy. Normally I would push him back inside and immediately jump on him, but not today. 

“I didn’t know you were coming over today my darling.” he said, reaching up to hold my chin between his fingers, but I slapped it away.

“Don’t.” I disappointingly whispered out wishing I wasn’t crying and could snap at him.

“What’s wrong?” his face showed concern though I could tell he was pretending.

“You are the most horrible person I’ve ever met.” I sobbed. I didn’t care that we were going to argue in the hallway with a few people passing by.

“And why’s that?” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Stop acting stupid! You cheated on me! We’ve been together four months Harry, and that doesn’t include the month we started dating. We had established we were in a relationship, you told me that it was us now. If you wanted to leave, you had your chance, you could have told me. Instead you stab me in the back and make me look like a fucking twat in front of the entire university!”

“Who’s told you this then?”

“Everyone Harry!”

“(Y/N), you knew I was a bachelor, girls will always want me whether I’m with someone or not.”

My mouth and eyes opened wide.“How could you say something so disgusting?!”

“You’re a smart girl (Y/N). You should have seen this coming.”

Harry went to close the door, and I even surprised myself when I stopped him, let alone him. He looked panicked as I barged in, slamming the door behind me. I glared at him, not caring about the tears gushing out of my eyes just then; my voice was going to be strong, I was going to make my point. 

“You know what Harry? I’m not going to waste my time lecturing you about how wrong you are, how you are the biggest piece of shit in the world. Because you’ve already heard it a thousand times over, and clearly you’ve never listened. So I’ll leave you with this. Soon enough, girls are going to catch on that you are the easy one, not them. You’re the one who offers himself to anything with a vagina. And they’ll leave you behind in the dust, no one will ever want to even look at you because of how ugly your personality is. Don’t ever talk to me again, don’t ever contact me again, don’t even think about me again. Fuck you Harry Villiers!”

Before he had a chance to say anything back, I dashed out of the door, slamming it once again. I leaned against it for a few seconds, catching my breath. I couldn’t give a fuck about my tears anymore, it wasn’t as if no one knew what was going on. Quickly pushing myself away from his room, I headed back to my own, needing time to lie down. Yes, I was still heart broken, I felt betrayed, but there was slight relief now that I had got some anger out of my system. It was going to take time to heal, but looking back, I was extremely lucky to get that bastard out of my life before it was too late.

Thomas Shelby

(GIF credit to @thesoldiersminute​)

“Miss Shelby, Mr Shelby has requested not to be disturbed-”

“I don’t care.” I snapped at the poor maid, knowing I would regret that later.“Now you may make sure no one disturbs us.” 

I carelessly threw my hat, coat and handbag onto the sofa as I passed by it, hearing her scramble for it. Tommy was in his office as usual, and I burst in, waiting for the maid to shut it behind me. My eyes were staring down Tommy was was stood over his desk, cigarette just lit, he couldn’t look more bothered if he tried.

“So you slept with her?” I just came out with it.

“(Y/N)-”

“Don’t start with the lies Tom. I heard Polly talking about it, and she wasn’t afraid to tell me the truth.”

He sighed.“Fine. I did. Does that make you happy?”

“Oh yes, now that everything is cleared up I’m overjoyed Thomas!” I threw my hands up in the air, letting them flop back down at my sides.“Of course it fucking doesn’t.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Why did you do it?”

“I had to.”

“You had to?”

“It was...part of a business move.”

“So cheating on your wife, sleeping with another woman was all to do with business? That’s an awful excuse, even for you.”

“Why can’t you just accept my answer?”

“Because it’s bullshit Tom!” I approached the desk, fists clenched.“It’s not as if you have a clean record with this kind of thing.”

“If I didn’t do it, she wouldn’t agree to this deal, and this deal included the safety of my family, the safety of you!”

“Oh, really? So you couldn’t just put a bullet in her?”

“You know that’s not how this works.”

“That’s how it usually goes down.”

“It’s hard to explain-”

“I’m sure it is. But this won’t be. I’m leaving Tom, I can’t be with a man who thinks sleeping with other women is good for business.” 

“For fucks sake,” he harshly put out his cigarette, rounding the table and standing in front of me,“why can’t you trust me?”

I raised my voice.“Because you fucking cheated on me!”

“Fine. Then what are you going to do when you leave? What money will you have? Where will you go?”

“Are you..are you-”

“Threatening? Blackmailing? No, I’m just telling you the truth about this matter.”

“Just because I wouldn’t be living in a lavish house or have your money at my dispense, doesn’t mean-”

“You won’t have anything.”

“Stop interrupting!”

“You’ll soon see that I had to do this. That woman is more powerful that anyone we’ve come up against before, she’s more ruthless, merciless. I knew she would come after you first, and kill you in the most torturous way possible.”

“You’re saying all of this like I should be thanking you. Tom,” a wave over emotions came over me, anger quickly being replaced by sadness, “do you know how much you’ve broken my heart?”

He ducked his head down, wiping a hand over his face. Nothing was said as he turned away from me, leaning against the desk with both hands. I just couldn’t take his excuse, it wasn’t justifiable. 

“You will not leave.” he stated.

“What? So not only are you lying to me, you’re now giving me orders.”

“What are you going to do, eh?” he spun around, a now more manic look in his eye,“I’m not letting you leave over this. We’ve been through too much together, we’ve gone through much worse than this. If you leave, you’ll die out there, no one will take you in because you used to be married to me.”

I hated that he was right. I had come from nothing and would die with nothing if I had never met Tommy. It was embarrassing to admit I had never fended for myself. Sure I could defend myself, but how long would I actually last if I was tossed out into the real world? He had a hold on me, and I used to never notice, because that hold was called marriage.

“Is that it? Is that the only reason I should stay?”

“I can’t lose you.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. Before I could walk away, I said one last thing,“I didn’t think it would be that hard for you to tell me you love me.”

Bjorn Ironside

(GIF credit to @hvitserkk​)

“(Y/N)!” Bjorn’s voice roared into the hall. 

Luckily I was alone, though I wouldn’t have minded some people spectating what was about to happen. Leaning back in my chair, I casually sipped on the mead I had graciously poured out for myself, smirking behind it. Bjorn marched in, headed straight towards me with a fury in his eyes as if I were his enemy in battle.

“(Y/N)! How dare you disgrace me!” 

I finished my drink, taking my time before answering.“Oh, like how you disgraced me?”

“What?”

“Do not lie to me Bjorn. I know you slept with Bodil.”

“And who told you that?”

“Bodil.”

“No one has seen her since the raid.”

“I know. And no one will see her again.”

“What did you do?”

“No, Bjorn, what did you do? Hm?”

“I do not understand why you have got so upset over this? Men do it all the time, men have urges.”

“And women do not? Don’t you recall the nights I too pined for you to warm my bed? The nights where I demanded you ensure I finish too-”

“This is different!” he shouted.

“No it isn’t!” I screamed back, standing up and smashing my cup on the floor.“You humiliated me, so I do the same to you.”

“You slept with a man who is know for hating me, who is known for trying to ruin my reputation.”

“Consider it ruined. I will not roll over and let you fuck whoever you please. You are mine and I am yours. There are either rules for both or rules for none.”

“Why are you being difficult? You really can be infuriating sometimes.”

“You are one to speak. Bjorn Ironside, the most difficult lover of them all.”

“There, you said it yourself, we are lovers. We are not married.”

“No, we aren’t. So why are you so angry that I too laid with another?”

He groaned.“It is not the same!”

I laughed.“I suppose not. Some women do turn a blind eye, but you knew I would do no such thing. You knew from the start how headstrong I was, how, I guess, possessive I am of my things. Bjorn, you said you wanted to marry me. Should that have not been an indication of a future together?”

“I will not have you try to confuse me.”

“Yes, it’s quite easy to do that.”

“Shut up!”

“No, you shut up! I am not a fool, I am not some thrall you can use whenever you want. I am a warrior, a woman who knows her worth. And you certainly are not worthy enough for me.”

“Then you forget who I am. You forget who my father is-”

“I don’t forget, I am not stupid. And you’re just like him, in the worst ways possible.”

I spat at his feet, turning up my nose as I walked out.

“Now what?”

“Now I leave you and find a man that is worthy of me.”

[myfatbottomedgirls]

Florence mornings

I’ve been thinking of writing fan fiction for years so I’ve decided to do a little blurb of Douglas Booth x y/n (genderless). This is my first piece so be kind! Just fluff! 

You awake with the light streaming in through the sheer, white curtains. Stretching your limbs and looking to your left to him warmed your heart. His dark brown hair, falling slightly over one eye; his full lips slightly pursed in his slumber; smooth cheekbones and lines from every smiled he cracked when you told him one of your ridiculous, sleep-deprived ideas or silly dad jokes.

You stood up and found one of his shirts on the floor, buttoning just a few for decency and creeped your way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. The two of you were in Florence for a romantic summer away. Douglas was taking a sabbatical from filming for the next year so you’d both moved out to sunny Italy for a few months. The flat you were renting was quaint, an open plan kitchen and living room, warm chestnut wood covering every surface, plants, books and older trinkets you had picked up throughout your relationship was in every nook and cranny of this beautiful flat.

As the coffee started you looked down on the rug you were standing on, a beautiful floral design on a cream woven base. You’d remembered when the pair of you bought it; it was a beautiful Saturday morning when you and Doug had decided to go on a walk through Camden Lock and get a warm drink and some breakfast, looking around the stalls and small music shops as you did so. When suddenly, it was like the sky had broken in two and the torrential rain started. Seeking shelter, the pair of you ran into the nearest shop, a small handmade rug store. Giggling at what had just been, you begin to look around, with Doug holding the small of your back as you ran your hands over the different materials, until you stumbled upon this very one. It reminded you of the one you had in your grandma’s kitchen when you were small.

Hearing the pot begin to whistle, you snap out of your happy flashback and are drawn back into reality and take the pot off the stove. Taking two small mugs out of the cabinet, you feel two hands wrap themselves around your middle and a sleepy head rest on your shoulder. You stop what you’re doing to turn your head slightly, receiving a kiss on the cheek. Giggling at Douglas’s sleepy, loved-up antics, you squeeze his hands and turn in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you say.

“Mmm, hello,” he replies giving you a lopsided smile with his eyes still closed.

Turning back around, you ask, “Coffee?”

“Always, thank you darling.”

“Open the balcony doors will you, love, need some more light in here now that you’re awake.”

Begrudgingly as he wished to stay with you in his arms forever, Doug does as asked, opening the doors and allowing the light to fall into the small flat, illuminating your soft features in the morning. He can’t stop staring as you perfect both of your coffees to exactly the way you both love it, grab the packet of cigarettes on the side and walk over to him, setting the coffees down on the small metal table you keep out there.

“What?” You ask softly as you begin to sit down and light your cigarette. 

As you exhale Douglas looks at you with all the love a lover could ever hold in their heart for someone. He brushes your hair slightly out of your eyes, kisses your forehead and lightly shakes his head with a soft smile that seems permanently planted his face.

“Nothing, darling, thank you for the coffee.” He moves the other chair to sit adjacent from his lover and puts one hand on their leg as he lights his own cigarette.

Music from down the street can be heard flowing throughout the small town they’ve decided to reside in for the next few months. Content and happy, the lovers are in peace, paradise.

[xtrashmammalstefx]

My Work thus far, all nice and clean!

Borhap Boys:

I Think...- Joe Mazzello

My Joy Was Complete- Joe Mazzello & Gwilym Lee

As Is Done- Ben Hardy

Who Do You Love- Ben Hardy

The Drunken Shenanigans of the Borhap Boys- Ben Hardy

Douglas Booth:

Stupid Kissing Thief

Ocean Eyes

Baby Mine

Machine Gun Kelly:

At My Best

Nikki Sixx (The Dirt)

Asshole

My Dr. Feelgood

The Queen Repertoire Series

***Queen***

Keep Yourself Alive- Brian May

Doing Alright- Joe Mazzello

Great King Rat- Roger Taylor

My Fairy King- Freddie Mercury

Liar!- Joe! John Deacon

The Night Comes Down-Brian May

Modern Times Rock and Roll- Ben! Roger Taylor

Son And Daughter- John Deacon

Jesus- Deacury

Mad The Swine- Ben! Roger Taylor

***Queen II***

Father To Son- Brian May

White Queen (As It Began)- Freddie Mercury

Some Day One Day- Gwilym Lee

The Loser In The End- Joe Mazzello

Ogre Battle- Joe! John Deacon

The Fairy Feller's Master Stroke- Joe Mazzello

Nevermore- Joe Mazzello

March of the Black Queen- BORHAP BOYS

***A Day At The Races***

Long Away- Brian May

The Riot Club:

To Love Thy Enemy- Harry

You're Drunk- Harry

Was He Better?- Harry & Dimitri

Zak Bagans:

Where My Demon's Hide

Stubborn Asshole

How To Piss Off an Old-Fashioned Ghost

NOTE: I will be updating this list from now so please ignore the hot mess that is my original list. Enjoy my fellow trash mammals! 😊

[blac-ivy]

Credit @reyenii on tiktok

Where y'all at?

[riotboysrequests]

Writing request please!! Dimtri and Guy meeting at at Eton over dinner. (Maybe add the other boys if you want :) ) P. S. Love the fic so far !

I’m sorry this request has taken so long in the making! I adore these two so much, they’re my favourite characters in the entire thing! [I’m also sorry for the slightly sad turn this took at the end. Sheesh.] Enjoy! —-“Darling. It really isn’t that bad.”

Gillian Bellingfield looked back over her shoulder at her son as the car picked up speed on the motorway. It seemed that the more she looked at her youngest the more painful it felt for both of them. Guy was sitting in the back of the car with his knees hugged to his chest. At his Mother’s words, he lifted his head. Wide eyed and red cheeked, the thirteen-year-old didn’t reply. He just rested his chin back on his knees again. Gill sighed, turning back in her seat to look at the open road again. “You’ll enjoy yourself. Your Father did, didn’t you Nathan?”

Nathan Bellingfield shifted in his seat again, looking at his son in the rear mirror as he drove. “One of the best times in my life. Guy. Look at me.”

The boy lifted his head again, managing a little sniff as he rubbed at his eyes. Nathan sighed. “The friends you’ll make here will last for a very long time. These boys are the best, and you get to be one of them. I promise you, Eton will be the most amazing experience you could ever dream of.”

“Then why can’t I stay at home? Just walk there every day? Why did I have to leave my old school? Why doesn’t this school start when you’re 11 like all the other schools?” All the questions in the world, and Guy was sure he would never get a straight answer out of either of his parents. “… Why do I have to stay there?”

Nathan exchanged a look with his wife. In the end, it always boiled down to this. It had with their older children and now was no different. He cleared his throat. “Guy, boarding at the school builds character. Your elder brother manages. And your sister when she went to Roedean. Put your feet down off the seat, please.”

Slowly, Guy lowered his knees, simply resting his forehead against the window instead. “I’m not Robert though, am I? Robert’s better at everything and he’s got loads of friends there—“

“And so will you, darling.” Gill reached her arm back to take rest on her son’s knee. “Come on, poppet. Big school, now isn’t it? You’ll get to learn with all the other boys and,” She squeezed his knee gently. “This is the best ticket to Oxford if you keep going with your History.”

And there it was again. Oxford. Guy closed his eyes, nodding his head simply because he knew that his Mother would drop the subject if he did so. His elder sister had told him time and time again how amazing Oxford was, and his brother, starting his final year at Eton now, had already received an offer from the University. Guy wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go. It just seemed like something his family simply had to do. His Mother and Father had met in their first year there, for goodness sake.

“Is it just the boarding that’s scaring you?” His Mother asked, her eyes still filled with concern. Guy nodded once. A lie. Seemingly one that his Father saw right through. He raised a brow, making eye contact with him again in the rear mirror.

“Honestly?”“It is!”“Guy.”

The boy leant back in his seat again, slightly embarrassed. “What if…What if no-one talks to me?

Gillian was fairly certain she felt her heart break at his words. She turned properly in her seat. “Darling. Guy, don’t say things like that. Of course you’ll make friends. Why would you think that?”

The boy offered a one-shouldered shrug. “I just didn’t have many at Primary that’s all.”

“Darling, it’ll be very different. This isn’t Year 7 at a co-ed. This is Eton poppet. And Robert will be there. He’ll make sure you’re settling in properly.”

Guy simply raised a brow at his Mother’s words. The sheer thought of Robert doing anything remotely considerate to him was nearly laughable. But if that was what his Mother wanted to believe then he would let her.

An hour later, he was standing in the large main hall.

An hour later, he was holding his Mother tighter than he ever thought he had held her before.

He had his face pressed in to her dress, trying to remember her smell as he felt the tears prickle in his eyes. It was then that Gillian realised that this was in fact her youngest child, and that she was sending him away when in reality he was still a little boy.

“Mummy,” It was a small whimper as she wrapped her arms around him again. “I don’t want to. I really really don’t want to.”

She kissed his head once. And then again when the realisation sank in once more. “Just try. And if you still feel the same after a week we’ll talk to the headmaster, alright? But you can’t not try. You’re my Little Guy remember?” She whispered, smoothing back his hair as he looked up at her, scratching at the black uniform he was wearing. It took him a few moments, but after a while he managed the smallest of nods.

Gillian held her son to her once again, sighing. “We have to go now, sweetheart. I’ll phone you tonight. But you never know, you might want to talk to me. You might have made so many friends you’ll be too busy having fun.”

Once again, Guy highly doubted his Mother’s words. But judging  by the sad way she was looking at him they were about to leave. He felt his Father run a hand through his hair and smile down at him.

“You’ll be fine, son. I promise.” And with a brief hug from his parents, they walked back to the car. Leaving Guy Bellingfield standing on his own. There was a moment where an older boy took his suitcase from him and informed him that it would be taken to his House dorm, but other than that, he was left completely and utterly alone. As always.  

More and more parents were taking their leave, some were crying, some were as emotionless as their own brainwashed bourgeoisie sons. He could already see boys talking to one another in little groups, already making friends. The friends his Father told him he would have for the rest of his life. But as always, Guy found himself quite alone. He was ushered over to one of the groups by a school master.

“What’s your name?”

“Bellingfield.”  He knew that this would be the start of seven years of being referred to by his last name by both peers and teachers alike, seeing as the same was done to every other boy at the school.  The man was sitting so rigidly it almost appeared he had a pole up his back. He had a pair of spectacles balanced on his nose and spoke with the same level of entitled sophistication that Guy had always known. He scanned up and down a list of names, finally finding what he was looking for.

“Guy Bellingfield?”“Yes sir.”  Guy shifted awkwardly, already feeling numerous eyes on him.“You’re in Durnford house. Green and purple colours. You’re dining table is the furthest on the left. Go and get yourself seated.”Guy stared across the grand hall owlishly. He was fairly certain that someone in the sky had it in for him. Out of all the tables, why was it that his had to be the one on the other side of the room. The teacher lifted his head again when he noticed that Guy hadn’t moved.“On your way, boy.”

“Oh, sorry!” Guy stumbled forward, pulling his jacket a little closer around him as he walked across the hall.

The Durnford table was set out in age order as far as he could see. The eldest boys were sitting on one end, tall, well-adjusted and already funnelling in to Oxford and Cambridge alike. And then there was his end of the table, which appeared to be a gabble of giggling boys who were full of all the excitement of the ‘first day’. Such excitement that Guy was sure he was supposed to have, but didn’t.

It was only when one of the boys turned and looked at him that he noticed he had been standing at the side of the table oddly for the past minute. He was a smiling boy, with one of the most symmetrical faces that Guy had ever seen. Right down to the boyish freckles, perfectly even on each side.

“Are you quite alright?” He asked.“Y-Yes. Sorry. Is this the Durnford table?” He mumbled, rubbing at the itchy collar once again. The boy nodded, more or less tugging him down in to a seat. Confidence seemed to ebb out of this boys very pores. He extended a hand to Guy to shake.

“Villiers. Harry Villiers. Jolly good to meet you.”

Guy stared at the other thirteen year old’s outstretched hand, hurriedly shaking it when he realised he hadn’t done so quicker. “Guy. Guy Bellingfield.”Harry nodded. “That’s a weird name.”

Guy leant back in his seat. “I-I know. Most of the kids at my old school just called me Freak.” He was half expecting the jeering agreement as usual, but was instead met with a hearty laugh from Harry. “Oh that’s brilliant. Ed. Toby. Come and meet Guy. He’s bloody hilarious.”

Guy blinked, looking from Harry to the two boys on the other end of the table he was talking to. Hilarious. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever called him something like that before. Guy poured himself a drink, sitting back in his chair again. After a moment, he looked to the boy sitting opposite him. A dark boy who seemed more occupied with staring out of the window than the actual dinner taking place.

Maybe his Mother was right after all. Maybe he really would make life long friends here. He had already seemed to have made a good impression with his house mates.  He glanced back over at Harry, who simply grinned back at him good naturedly..

“Hullo.” Guy mumbled, looking back at the boy opposite him. “I’m Guy. Guy Bellingfield.”

“I heard.” The boy replied quietly, finally pulling his gaze from the window. Guy swallowed, offering a hand to shake as Harry had done before. Perhaps not everyone was as charmingly confident as Harry Villiers was. [This was a fact he would know to be true in their University years. Especially when it came to women.]

“What’s your name?”The smaller boy seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before he finally shook hands.“Dimitri.”“Dimitri what?”“You wouldn’t be able to say it.” He said simply, resting his chin back on his hand as he looked out of the window. Guy shifted in his seat, fiddling with one of the forks. “I could give it a go. I’m rather good at saying complicated things.”Dimitri simply  looked unimpressed, his dark fringe falling over his eyes. “Mitropoulos. Dimitri Mitropoulos.”

Guy tilted his head. “Blimey. That is a mouthful isn’t it. It sounds Greek.” Where was this chattiness coming from? Guy didn’t really know. But for some reason the boy in front of him just seemed easy for him to talk to.

“I am Greek.” Came the simple response as he looked back at Guy, the window forgotten. Guy leant forward in interest. “You are? Oh that sounds amazing. What’s it like over there?” His Mother had often told him to stop bombarding people with questions. But like most times, Guy had completely ignored her.

Dimitri’s unimpressed look was still there, but it was slowly fading with time.

“It’s—“ The boy took a second to look around the hall they were in. “It’s a lot less green. It’s a lot different to England, actually.”“I can imagine. Are you Mum and Dad flying back today then?”Dimitri shook his head,  sipping at his drink. “No. My Mother and Father are at home. I was sent here on my own.”

Guy stared for a second. “You were…” He stopped, frowning steadily. “All on your own?”

“Father said it builds character.”

Guy closed his eyes. It was only a few hours ago that his Father had said the same thing to him about living away from home at a young age. “Do you miss them?”

Dimitri seemed to think for a moment, a look crossing in his eyes that Guy knew all too well. The feeling of trying to force oneself not to well up. “Sort of.” The boy rubbed at his face angrily, trying to remove any sense of emotion. Guy leant forward again, trying his best to look  as friendly as possible. “I miss mine too. I…I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I think it’s a normal thing. Especially seeing as your family are in a completely different country. You’ll be able to write to them, surely. And your friends.”

Dimitri gave a slightly bitter laugh, though it faded to a slightly softer expression when he saw the confused look on Guy’s face. “I didn’t…I didn’t really have any friends when I was at home.”

A tiny smile crossed over Guy’s lips then, and he nodded his head in understanding. “Neither did I.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not a single one. They all thought I was weird.”

“Well you are a bit funny looking.” Dimitri reasoned. For once, the expression Guy saw was one of humour, and not the judgemental ones he was so used to. He found a laugh bubbling at his lips as he shoved at Dimitri’s arm playfully.

“Sod off. No I don’t.”

“You do! And I think you’re my bloody roommate too. So I’m going to be stuck with you for the next seven years.” Dimitri simply shoved him back, in the playfighting nature that the two of them would grow so used to as they grew together.

“You’re really lucky then. You get to share a room with someone as awesome as me.” Guy shot back, simply laughing when Harry nearly spilt his glass over when he was gesturing in conversation with Ed.

“As if, Bellend.”

Guy blinked, looking up in shock. “What?”

Dimitri just grinned. “Bellend. I’ve decided that’s going to be your nickname. Bellingfield. Bellend. Pretty cool if you ask me.”

“You’re going to call me Bellend forever now aren’t you?”

“Most likely.”

As Guy settled back on his chair and continued to talk to Dimitri, Harry and the others, he didn’t know that his Father had in fact been right all along. These were the friends that he would have for the rest of his life. That much was true. But it was Dimitri Mitropoulos who would be his best friend through all those years.

It would be Dimitri who simply fell over laughing at him whenever he messed up in Rugby. Dimitri who would roll his eyes and kick him in the leg whenever he tried too hard at being funny.

Dimitri would be the one who simply lay awake in the bunk above him as they talked for hours on end about pointless things, all the while whilst shoving sweets in to their mouths.

Guy had gone to his best friend—the more accurate description would be ‘sprinted’ when they 18 years old on results day and he had been accepted in to Oxford. And poor Dimitri was the one who suffered from an attack hug that knocked them both to the ground when he told him he had done the same.

And, in the long run, Dimitri Mitropoulos would be standing next to him when the police came bursting through the door. It would be Dimitri who Guy was standing near as they stared at the barely breathing man on the floor. Dimitri had been the one that had barked something at one of the policemen when one of them had been a little too rough with Guy.

In the end, it had always been Dimitri who was there for Guy. And Guy would always be there in return. Because Dimitri Mitropoulos was the first proper friend Guy Bellingfield ever made.Even if they did have the occasional disagreement.

*“Mate. How long have we been friends?”“Since the first day of school, and you think I couldn’t be President because I’m Greek?”

[backtothestart02]

Human Error - Chapter 1

Tagging @champagneholland, my standalone fan for this fic (thank you for your enthusiasm always! lol).

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

Chapter 1 -

He thought it would be easier than it was to see her again. As the years passed, he’d been able to dwell on Oxford without immediately associating it with the horrendous riot club. Becoming consumed by his studies and his future had turned out to be the right solution. This past holiday, unlike the one two years prior, he’d engaged in conversation with nearly everyone at the annual Richards Christmas party. He talked about Oxford, his studies, the career path he had all planned out. He’d gotten better too at maintaining neutral conversations with his parents’ prized bride for him, Stephanie Bellington. He was so good at conducting them that, in so many words, he’d gotten the message across that he was never going to choose her himself.

As a whole, Miles Richards felt the past two years had done him good. He’d separated himself completely from those who had – intentionally or not – almost ruined him. He was making his family proud and behaving appropriately. He was putting that first semester behind him and never looking back.

Yet there she was, her snug fitting jeans, cute fuzzy boots and plaid jacket set to shades of toned down purple and gray. Her hair now cut into a little bob that a sliver of a headband fit neatly into. Her smile almost reached her eyes as one of the girls beside her made a joke in the conversation and it sent a stab of pain to his insides, making his stomach flip over. She was still as gorgeous as ever, still impossible to look away from, and still the reminder of everything awful he’d ever done.

Miles forced himself to look away and headed into the building for his first class in the last semester of his Oxford career.

But not seeing her right in front of him solved nothing. He heard her words in his head as if they had happened yesterday.

“You were there. You had a choice, Miles. You chose to do nothing.”

He tried to clear his head of those words, of that painful memory, but only worse, more painful memories came to take its place. That night at the restaurant. That poor, innocent man being beaten to almost the point of death. The fear and panic that had him shaking and unaware of what would happen first, throwing up or passing out. Fate wasn’t merciful to him that night, because neither happened. The closest thing he’d done to something good was making the police suspect all of them because he hadn’t told the lie that he’d been ordered to, that the restaurant manager had simply fallen.

Physically he didn’t contribute to the man’s wounds, and not verbally or emotionally either. Nothing in him had wanted that man to be tortured and mutilated the way he was. But restraining himself from even voicing that opinion hurt him. Who knew how much less that man might have endured if he’d spoken up? Maybe Lauren’s declaration towards him wouldn’t have been quite so severe, because then he would have been pleading only for her, not for her assistance. A thousand things could have gone down differently if he had had enough courage to act on the horror he felt watching the boys he’d thought were his friends torturing an innocent man.

None of this had been easy to get past. It still haunted him to this day. But when he saw Lauren again, it hit him head on.

It wasn’t as if he set out to see her – just the opposite. She’d more or less threatened to ruin him if he so much as stepped an inch in her direction. From day one he’d wanted nothing more than to win her back, to apologize and somehow make amends for the unspeakable trauma he’d put her through. It didn’t matter that he never meant to. It didn’t matter that he’d been a fool and an ass with every word that had come jumbled out of his mouth that night. It didn’t matter that he was as scarred by his inability to save her from his so-called friends as she was by the attack she’d been under.

None of it mattered, because in the end his feelings were insignificant. They were driven by pure selfishness – the desire to be accepted, the expectation of a stainless reputation, the need to have her in his life. The fact that, even though he’d known just how royally he screwed up, he still assumed she’d forgive him – that he had that right. He was entitled to her forgiveness.

He wasn’t.

If he could do any of it over, he’d undo everything and do it this time the right way. He wouldn’t assume he was the moral compass in a group of seemingly harmless pranksters. Because actions spoke louder than words, even the act of doing nothing.

Ripping himself from the past he knew he’d never fully escape from, he refocused on the large domed hallway he was walking down and started to scan the doorways for the appropriate classroom number. Having been there as long as he had, it was still easy to not know where you were going. Oxford was huge, bigger than any establishment he’d visited, surprisingly. Miles knew who was in what dorm and where events were held, or large public areas that were often frequented – the courtyards, library, cafeteria… He knew where those were. But individual classrooms were often just a little bit fuzzy.

A few more doors down though and he thought he was nearing the correct room. Until he heard a familiar sound, identical to the one he’d heard before he stepped into the building. He stopped, and hesitantly looked in the direction of the feminine accent. It had ceased. He didn’t catch her eye, but he knew who it was. He quickly looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand that listed his class schedule for the final semester. Then he looked back up where the number was etched on top of the doorway. He looked back and forth between both paper and stone numbers but there was no denying it. Just as there was no denying the petite brunette figure that quickly stepped inside the room before he could think to move his feet in the same direction.

A chill raced down his spine and he felt unbelievably warm. Sweat formed in droplets on his forehead and the tie around his neck suddenly felt unbearably tight.

By some miracle, he snapped out of his heightened senses and forced himself to start walking, right into the room Lauren had just entered.

For the first time since their first semester at Oxford they would be sharing a class. They would be in closer proximity than they’d ever been since they’d gone their separate ways.

Miles didn’t have the slightest idea of what to expect. He only knew he was doomed and he saw no way of undoing that curse.

…

 “Miles Richards,” the man, declaring himself Professor Irons, evenly called out. Another name down his roster of students.

Miles raised his hand, but it was futile. His new professor had his eyes glued to his list.

“Miles Richards,” he called out again.

Miles restrained himself from a sigh or a groan or a grumble, or any form of complaint really.

“Here,” he said.

Professor Irons made no vocal response. Just a swift check with his pen and he was on to the next student.

“Lauren Small,” he continued, and Miles froze.

He’d known it would happen. They were in the same class and her last name directly followed his alphabetically. But he’d heard only muffled chatter from her at a distance with her friends. Nothing clear or concise, nothing close by.

Her “present,” studious as ever, sent a jolt right through him. He felt light-headed, buzzed, and absolutely terrified.

Would she look back at him? Would she pretend he didn’t exist? Would she drop out of the class? Would she expect him to? Would he be able to pass this class at all with all of this weighing on him every moment it was in session?

“Good.” Professor Irons looked up and smiled at her, which made Miles frown, since every student before he’d neglected to so much as respond to.

He assured himself that it might be just that Lauren’s name was last on the list. Instead Professor Irons continued on till he’d reached a Charles Ziekler, ten names later.

There was no doubt in his mind that if it was between him and Lauren dropping out of class, it would be him.

“Well, students,” the professor resumed. “Welcome to Psychology 406 – or otherwise known as the class you must pass in order to graduate. I am the only one who teaches it, and this is the only time slot it is available.”

Miles felt his whole body overheat again as his heart plunged into his stomach and bile rose up his throat.

“You may be asking yourself,” he began, slowly walking across the long expanse of the front of the classroom. “There are thousands of final year students here. All of them can’t possibly fit in this one room.” He stopped moving and talking, pausing reflectively before somehow making eye contact with everyone sitting before him.

“You would be correct in your assumptions. However…” He started to walk again, turning when he got to the window and going back the way he’d come. “This class is not only available in the finale semester. It is available any semester you choose to take it. No doubt you all saw it as a requirement and figured you’d leave it till the last possible moment, thinking it would not matter or amount to much.”

He was almost to the wall by the door when he stopped again. This time he smiled almost maliciously when he addressed the crowd.

“In that, my fellow students, you would be wrong.”

He returned to the podium and flipped through some books, both for reading and writing respectively. He sighed and smiled contentedly when he reached the page he was seeking, and when he looked up at them all with that bright smile accompanied by a cool exterior, Miles once again sensed the oncoming disaster.

“This class will test your knowledge,” he began again. “But it will also test your skills, your ability to research and present. You’ve done those things in other classes, but in this one you will also have to prove your ability to work with others – even those with whom you don’t associate well.” Miles swallowed hard. “I will choose a partner for each of you that you cannot refuse. And by that I do not mean your heart will be overflowing for love for this person. I’m hoping it will be the contrary. No, your inability to refuse is based solely on the fact that my decision is final and your only way out of it is dropping the class and staying on an extra semester so you can take my class again, at least for you seniors.” He looked down at his books on the podium again, flipping through pages, appearing almost bored. “I would not advise the latter, but it is of course up to you.”

Miles sank farther into his seat. He glanced up to where Lauren sat three seats back and four rows over and told him he should feel comforted by the fact that she was fidgeting a little. But it didn’t. It only made him more on edge, because who knew what she would decide to do now?

The professor’s voice faded as if it were being spoken from a distance. In Miles head, every word was effectively blocked except for an occasional one or two that his subconscious must’ve somehow known would be important.

A full string of words stood out and made everything worse. Made both his and Lauren’s hands clench around their desk. Miles thought his heart stopped beating for a moment. He wondered if she’d had the same sensation.

“Miles Richards and Lauren Small. You will be the first set of partners. For every project for the duration of the semester, you will be put together and expected to do extraordinarily well. I will be the judge of that, of course.”

“Mister—Professor Irons, I really don’t think—” Lauren tried to interject, but it was a lost cause and Miles guessed she probably knew it.

“Miss Small, I believe I made it clear before that I was choosing the partners and there would be no refusals, else you take my class in a future semester.”

She slumped back into her chair, having been as straight and tall as her small frame could manage only a moment earlier.

“Yep, Professor,” she murmured.

The kindly look Professor Irons had bestowed on her when she’d first responded during role call had turned into one of annoyance and disappointment. He continued on with his list though, and no more objections were made.

At the end of the class period, an excruciating hour and a half later, Miles wanted nothing more than to race out of that class and never see it again until it was absolutely necessary. But Lauren was before him before he could even get out of his desk.

“Miles,” she said, addressing him in the most professional capacity he was sure she could muster.

He kept his mouth shut but focused entirely on her, reminding himself not to drown too much in her eyes or feel too much joy just from the sound of his name on her lips or tempt himself with the memory of what her hair felt like slipping through his fingers, soft as silk.

“I have not forgotten what I told you.” She looked away and it tore at him, as if she was disgusted just to be near him. “And I…I appreciate that you have respected my wishes.” She looked back at him, her eyes somewhat softened and yet still with shadows colder than ice. He wished he could tell what she was thinking.

“Even if it was done for completely selfish reasons.”

She was holding back a scoff. That much he could tell. She was holding back a lecture and a slap too. He saw her jittery fingers form fists at her sides. He felt pang of guilt and also fear on many levels.

“That being said,” she forged on. “It is obvious that neither of us can get out of the predicament we are now in. While I would very much like to force you to drop the class, regardless of what that would mean for your reputation or your family’s opinion of you, since certainly you could afford the tuition…” She held back another scoff.

He deserved a scoff though. He wished he could tell her she could scoff at him without making her angrier than she clearly was.

“We are just going to have to put aside our differences for the sake of this one class. You cannot be mute in this situation because then I will carry the majority of the burden of every project I take on, and I certainly do not deserve that. I’ve worked hard to get where I’m at, and I refuse to let this be the reason my grade in what is obviously the most important class of my university experience might be lowered. You should speak,” she insisted. “We will get through this in one piece if we follow the one guideline I know will ensure it.”

He just stared at her waiting, still too unnerved to speak.

“When we speak, it will be only about whatever projects we must cover together in this class. If there need to be excessive conversations so that something is done well, fine, but any other topic that comes up from your doing will be the end of our little truce. It certainly will not affect me if your sins come to light.”

His lips parted, but she had turned to leave before he could even straighten in his seat, not another word addressed in his direction. He watched her leave and was torn between aching need, fierce admiration and absolute terror.

“Mister Richards.”

His head swerved quickly in the direction of his professor’s voice.

“There’s another class in here in five minutes.”

He said no more but his stern gaze spoke volumes. Miles muttered something indistinct under his breath, gathered up his things and went out into the hall. He looked both ways, but Lauren was no longer there. She had to have disappeared into the masses of students now passing him in the halls.

He made no effort to find her, only followed the most open path until he reached the outdoors. Feeling on the brink of a panic attack, he walked quickly to the building across the courtyard and went inside. He found the stairs leading to the roof and went all the way.

His place of release, or relaxation, of clearing his head. The only place he could escape whatever worries plagued his mind or dragged down his soul.

The rooftop he’d shared with Lauren in the late afternoon of move-in day their first semester, swapping stories and backgrounds and barely stifling the obvious attraction between them – she more successful than he.

It should have been a haunted place for him, somewhere he never wanted to go again. Because they hadn’t just spent that one afternoon there, but several. They’d had moments here that burned brighter every time he returned. He should’ve wanted to erase those memories, forget they ever existed.

But he couldn’t. Those times were etched forever within him; the only warmth in the sea of bitter cold that infused the last three years of his life.

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[aoibhs]

Library

Chapter One 

Chapter Twenty-Two

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from The Riot Club/Posh, and all OCs were beautifully crafted by @club-riot

Poppy reached for the big brown book and her hand touched off someone else's, going for the same book. "Go ahead," Poppy whispered, then looked properly at the person and instantly regretted it. She had to be polite now that she committed to it at the start of a conversation. "Thanks," Lauren gave a small smile and selected the large art history book from the shelf. "No problem," Poppy said quickly and turned away, deciding on trying to find a PDF of the book online in order to get away from her as soon as possible. "You're Miles' friend, aren't you?" So much for that plan. "Yeah, I am," She just nodded. God, how she wanted to just be rude and walk away. That might impact her friendship with Miles, it was risky. "He talks about you, it's just nice to finally meet you," Lauren shrugged, hugging the book to her chest. "Likewise," She nodded. Was that it? Could she leave? "I didn't know you studied art history too," Ugh. "Fine art," Poppy corrected her, "I have a module in art history," "One of the big lectures?" There was a slight smirk on Lauren's face that said she had figured out why they had never met before. Well done, Lauren. "That's right," Poppy nodded again, glancing over at her desk, where Imogen was working on an assignment, her back to them. She'd never notice Poppy who was on the verge of praying for a way out. "We should get a coffee sometime," Lauren smiled, "I'd love to get to know some of Miles' friends better. I'm Lauren, by the way," Yeah, she knew that long before that, but anyway. "Poppy Kensington," She answered. "Like the place in London? Do you live there?" Poppy had to obtain an enormous amount of self-control so that she wouldn't automatically cringe at how annoying her accent was. "Yes and no," She pretended to chuckle and backed away, "This was really lovely, Lauren," No, it wasn't, "But I've got work I need ready for the end of the week," "I'll get Miles to give you the book when I'm done," Lauren chirped. "Thanks," She nearly ran but her self-control kicked in again. At this point, the PDF was her only friend now. She would have words with Imogen about facing the right direction to help her out of sticky situations in the future and Imogen would be dying to laugh at how ludicrous it was. Lauren Small wanted to be her friend. "Better you than me," She snorted, then looked across the table to see Elizabeth doodling instead of writing her essay on Chaucer, "Hey, Shaw," Her friend looked up, "Quit writing your name and Guy's name in a heart and get back to work, yeah?" "Yeah, Elizabeth Bellingfield," Poppy added. "I'm actually crossing out something someone else wrote on all my notebooks," She held up a notebook that had her own name scratched out and Elizabeth Leighton-Masters written quite crudely in large, bold letters all over the rest of its surface. "That's nearly as funny as Lauren," Imogen fanned her face as if that would stop her from giggling. That's when Poppy glared and poked her in the ribs with her pen, that got her to stop laughing. "Who would do this?" Elizabeth's feelings didn't exactly look hurt but she did looked bewildered. James wouldn't have done this himself, would he? "That would be me," Harry Villiers approached the table, sitting next to Elizabeth. "Why? And how did you even get these?" She held up her copies, still confused as ever. "Lizzy, this is out of your hands now," He touched her chin and sighed in a condescending tone that had Imogen in muted stitches again, "I'm here in need of your services," "We're working here, Villiers," Poppy gestured to her notes that lay scattered on the desk. "So am I," Harry pretended to look shocked by her comment, "I need some tips for my date with Honora," "Buy her expensive stuff," Imogen shrugged. "Well other than that," Harry smiled, knowing he had something under control. "Nice dinner and then go to a club," Poppy added her own shrug. "Let her pick the wine," Elizabeth said. "Yes. Definitely," Imogen pointed at in agreement. "Ah, wonderful," Harry grinned, satisfied with the advice he had received, "You all set up for your own date, Shaw?" Harry nudged her, smirking. "What?" "With Bellend," "I...um. Pardon?" "Wait, are you telling me he hasn't asked you?" Harry creased his eyebrows, becoming confused with her. "Was he supposed to?" "I mean," He spluttered a laugh then pretended to cough before the librarian caught his eye, "He was supposed to a month ago but here we are," "Well, I'm a married woman, Harry," She held up the notebook which he had written all over with a blank expression. "Oh come on," He grinned. "I won't believe anything unless he actually tells me himself," She shrugged, putting the notebook down again, beginning to draw hearts around some of the names. "Don't be like that, Lizzy," Harry sighed, leaning in closer so that she'd look at him, "I can't help it if he's being a pussy, I'm doing all I can to help you both," "How is this help?" She pointed her pen at the notebook of names again. "You need to broaden your mind to all the possibilities this'll give you," Harry raised his hands to his temples, flicking them outward. "Her brain can't register jealousy, Villiers," Poppy weighed in, "Our Elizabeth is too nice," "I'm not jealous of anyone," Elizabeth shrugged, going back to drawing hearts again. "Yeah but Guy is," Imogen shook her head. "No, he's not," "Are you really this blind?" Harry actually scoffed at that, "He's obsessed with you, Shaw and everyone knows it except you," "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not falling for that joke again," She began to pack up her notebooks. "Again?" Poppy looked at her, now curious and concerned. "My... My brothers, um," She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "They used to tell me their friends fancied me so that I'd try to get them to kiss me or whatever. I'm not that dim anymore though," "No you've just switched off your radar for any form of male affection for you," Imogen rolled her eyes. "We're not finished here," Harry stood up to leave, "Cheers for the tips,"

Chapter Twenty-Four

[justsmilestuffhappens]

I need you to just imagine something for me, because I feel like you can picture it lol.

What if Eddie went to jail back in season 3 for his fight club shenanigans, i.e. nasal cavity fight scene, and was there during the riot.......what kind of fanfiction could be created from this vague prompt?

What has my brain done? Is this a thought already out there in the universe or.....could it be out there in the universe???

This is an awesome prompt and maybe I can work it into a whumptober fic from what's leftover for be to do still.

I would read it no doubt though.

I've seen plenty of fight club comes back to haunt Eddie fics but not too many go like this.

If anyone else wants a crack at this I'd like to see their takes too.

While this is an awesome idea and I can imagine the confusion and shock, the repercussions of him being arrested would echo into the other season as he either loses his job or they find out and fight to help keep him from losing it.

I don't think he'd be in the kind of jail like the unless he actually murderer the dude or had more charges then a first time asaault and trespassing on top of illegal gambling and no i don't want that on Eddie's already horribly guilty conscience during that time.

Like if it's the smaller charges of him being in lockup holding then maybe yes, or unless there was a mixup like he was misidentified and put in a worse place than he's supposed to be and didn't get the chance to be bailed out at all.

They respond to a fire at the prison and are being overrun as- first road bump. What episode is this post- malfunction would guess right? Where's Christopher been? How is Carla getting paid still and doesn't know where Eddie is.

Eddie's been missing for a few days and no one knows where he'd been except Lena only she couldn't know or that would mean she kept that information from them. If she doesn't show up and Eddie gets arrested before they arrive or else trying to make his escape-?

So Eddie's taken to be booked and fits the description of someone else that just escaped prison and they're assume it's him only he's telling them and his phone call is too a full voice-mail box so it doesn't record or their phone was broken or stolen and had to get a new one with a new number.

Eddie can't get ahold of anyone and the lawyer he gets appointed is shitty if he does as they try to confirm who he is. How long can they hold him without charging him and how does that go if the assume he's another convict? They'd have to see that his ID and fingerprints aren't right.

It's a lot of work to get him in.

Okay. So. Like. He's in.

Eddie's in some deep shit. Fucking inside of a prison kinda of deep shit. He fucked up but not like this, not this fucking bad.

How the fuck did this happen?

The lawyer is trying to press for him to be charged with what he actually did and his time of being wrongful treated and this whole entire mixup to be fixed.

Go fucking figure that he'd be pickpocketed tonight of all fucking nights to lose his wallet.

At least he's still in this room with them outside and on their phone trying to contact someone higher up to rush the fingerprint check. It should be easy but their damn system is old-school and currently down undergoing maintenance.

That's when the damn fire alarm goes off and his lawyer is checking on him at the door.

He really wishes that Buck had answered. Figures the one time he calls is when his voice-mail was still full and he must not have seen it. Eddie knows Buck must be asleep or it's dead but a sliver of doubt tells him it's purposeful ignorance.

He'd been on Buck for weeks to unclog it since before the lawsuit even happened but couldn't blame him when some were from a time of depression and others were medical bills that were due for collection.

To be continued....

Maybe?

[obmare]

Perhaps Tomarry/Harrymort fic recs?? 👀👀👀

Oh wow this took so long to answer I'm so sorry anon!! I literally never gets asks here so I never check 😅

I can't say I've read the most fics in this fandom ( I'm pretty picky when it comes to fanfics ) but I can recommend some that I think are worth checking out!

1. Of your making

25 chapters, completed

" An unexpected twist during the final battle has Harry trapped inside a magical artifact with only his greatest enemy for company. The Carcerem will release them, but the requirement for freedom is an impossible one, for neither Harry Potter nor Tom Riddle will ever forgive the other."

This fic was the first tomarry fanfiction I actually sat down and read all the way through and to this day it's still one of my favorites and the one I recommend to people when they start getting into the pairing. Great creative plot, the characters are all in character and I just really love it.

2. The All Seeing Eye Glass

14 chapters so far, last update 29/8/2020

" When Harry lands himself in 1942 he officially stops caring. Surrounded by witches and wizards that are blissfully ignorant that there's a time-traveler in their midst, Harry resolves to make his own changes, which results in some interesting and unexpected consequences."

I have no words for this fic. From all the time traveling ones this one takes the cake for me by far. The characterization of everyone is amazing,the plot is captivating and it made me love Harry's relationships that get created. The use of seers is really great and the lore if the wizarding world is greatly explored. Plus it's like really funny. Hope it updates soon!

3. Teaching History (is old news)

30 chapters, main story completed

" In which Tom is the DADA professor at Hogwarts, secretly recruiting followers for his future army, and Harry is the worst Divination professor ever, accidentally messing up Tom’s plans."

Another one of the greats. This fic has made me laugh and cry so much I should tell my therapist about it. The idea of Harry as a Divination professor is the best idea ever and if you love ugly sweaters and Harry bothering Tom you'll love this one.

4. No Glory

43 chapters so far, last update 27/1/2021

" The Dark Lord divines what Harry Potter is in the Forbidden Forest, and revelations lead to incomprehensible consequences. Lord Voldemort has won... and the dystopia is damning.

A tale of a fallen hero, dark desires, and a Dark Lord's obsession with something he has lost and finds himself unwillingly lusting after: a soul. "

If you are in the tomarry fandom you should do yourself a favor and read all of ObsidianPen's works. Their stories are so wonderfully written I doubt my descriptions of them will do them any justice. So wait no longer and go binge read them all!!( if you like captive Harry you'll enjoy this particular one a lot).

5. Come down and rot with us baby; we guarantee you'll love it

11 chapters so far, last update 27/7/2020

" Everyone knew about Tom Riddle's little clique, only the brightest, wealthiest, most gorgeous people were ever included. So, the question was, how far Harry go to get in?

Or

A 'Brideshead Revisited' meets 'The Riot Club' meets 'Stoker' meets 'Hannibal' meets 'The Secret History' fic."

I'm very sad that this fic doesnt get the recognition it deserves tbh. Like this obviously isn't everyones cup of tea but if you like dark academia and dont mind some of the warning tags I believe this to be one of the best out there. I've been into dark academia since I was 16 and thanks to that this has to be my favorite fic out there. The way the characters are written is very unique but also very aligned with dark academia roles. If you like this style I suggest reading all of the author's works as they are all great!

There's many more beautiful works but these 5 hold a special place in my heart as an audience!