#The one who wins the golden ticket au

[n0nam3fand0mch1ld]

You know about my banner (the fanart I made).Well now it is time to give a explanation, drumroll pls *cricket chirping*.Well then, it is my Charlie and the chocolate factory au called “The one who wins the golden ticket”.

Fun facts on design will start now.

Charlie (the girl with 2 color eyes).

The reason why I made her a girl is after seeing Madison Hellenes designs (go check them out on LinkedIn they are great) and liked the idea.

The reason for Charlie being black is A my interpretation and B Charlie was said to originally be black.

I gave her complete Heterochromia.

Full name is Charlotte Bucket.

Originally had a cloak (will use it on her sometimes).

Head cannon VA is either Tiana (The princess and the frog) or Martha Mildenhall (Tadc).

Is 12 year old.

Veruca (Pink dress).

My favorite character designing (I love putting the details on her dress).

Her clothes were originally gonna be red and her hair yellow (but then changed after making her hair a dirty blonde because she would look like her 1971 adaptation).

Her jewels are real.

Full name is Veronica Salt (yes I changed it,Wonka mispronouncing it will be a running gag).

She originally was gonna have a bow that when she was mad would be shaped like demon horns (like Vaggie in the Hazbin Hotel pilot).

Is Russian (based of the musical p adaptation).

Head cannon VA is Herself in the Londen musical or Lottie (The princess and the frog,how ironic).

Might change her hairstyle.

Is 11 year old.

Mike (Boy with teal highlights in hair).

His jacket was supposed to look cyberpunk (I failed miserably).

Clothes were originally gonna be black and red.

Grey thing in hand is a phone.

Clothes were gonna be more baggy.

Full name is Michael (hates being called Michael)Teavee.

Has eye bags.

Head cannon VA is Jax (tadc) or hunter (toh).

Is the oldest (13 year old).

Violet (girl with purple shirt).

She was gonna look more like the 2005 version before.

Is Indian.

Clothes color scheme was gonna be blue.

Full name is Violet Buraguarde.

Has pink gum in her mouth.

Has a scar on her forehead (she has to hide it).

Her VA is Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel) or Athena (Epic the musical).

Is 12 year old.

Agustus

Was my least favorite to design (I didn’t have many creative ideas designing him and not many ideas for him).

He is German (is the most cannon of ethnicity I made for the characters).

Was originally supposed to have dark brown hair.

Looks like one of the kids in Hansel and Gretel ngl 💀

Full name is Agustus Gloop.

VA is Agustus (himself in the 2005).

Is the youngest (8 year old).

[pupkashi]

f1 racer!satoru 💭🏎️

a/n: hi friends ! i have had this au rattling in my head like a damn maraca for SO LONG im so glad i finally got around to putting it out for yall :3 this might be for a very niche group of people but i hope the five of you who enjoy f1 will appreciate this 🙏 let me know what yall think if you’d like him to make a reappearance in drabbles or one shots !! <3

masterlist

f1 racer!satoru who is mercedes golden boy, replacing lewis hamilton after his move to ferrari, going toe to toe with the likes of red bull and Ferrari racers

f1 racer!satoru who is loved across the grid and in the general public, think Italian men with charles leclerc, he’s the people’s princess, truly

f1 racer!satoru who dominates his rookie year, leaving everyone stunned at how truly talented and amazing he is

f1 racer!satoru who has the most followers on social media from everyone on the grid, everyone fawning over him constantly

f1 racer!satoru who loves the attention, but all of it seems so meaningless the second he meets you, falling hard and fast from the couple conversations you had, giving you free tickets for the race in an attempt to get more time with you

f1 racer!satoru who shows up and shows out the Grand Prix that weekend, eyes searching the crowd as tries his best to focus on his post race interviews

f1 racer!satoru finds you in the crowd as he steps onto the podium, smile widening and dimples popping out, he’s laughing as his podium mates douse him in champagne, all of them taking a swig from the comically large champagne bottle

f1 racer!satoru who says his to you with champagne dripping down his face and off his snowy hair, asking what the odds were of you letting him take you out on a date where he’s not working

f1 racer!satoru who is impossible to not fall for, with his witty replies and pretty blue eyes, he has you weak in the knees and on FaceTime every night

f1 racer!satoru who takes you carting, letting you win and treating you to dinner afterwards, buzzing with nervousness as he asks you to be his

f1 racer!satoru who is elated to have you as his partner, having you fly out with him whenever you could to his races, explaining everything about formula 1 to you beforehand, chest warming when he realizes how focused you look on his every word

f1 racer!satoru who develops a pre-race ritual with you, having you hype him up and giving him a good luck kiss before the two of you walk out of his driver room and into the garage, he’s zipping up his driver suit and asking you to help adjust his balaclava, smiling when you kiss his nose and wish him luck

f1 racer!satoru who seems to become even better after he started dating you, managing to podium every race and putting up a fight against a dominating red bull team; in every interview he says it’s not only the car but his amazing lover who helps him push every lap

f1 racer!satoru who has a picture of you in his helmet as his lockscreen, and you have one of him in his fireproofs as yours

f1 racer!satoru who gets dubbed ‘the grids angel boy’ after you commented on his post fresh off his Japan Grand Prix win ‘congratulations my angel boy’

the entire grid loves you, announcers and commentators always excited when you show up to a race, cameras showing you in the Mercedes garage ‘and we have y/n in the garage today!’ you smile brightly at the camera, ‘i guess we know who’s gonna get pole position for qualifying tonight’

f1 racer!satoru who drives you around in his fancy Mercedes, sports and classic cars, exploring every city with you, treating you to expensive food and presents, walking hand in hand with you down the streets of Monaco, taking pictures of you at the beach in Miami and sending flowers when you can’t make it to his races

f1 racer!satoru who is absolutely smitten over you, adding your initial to his helmet hidden among the design, showing it to you with sparkling blue eyes as your heart flutters

f1 racer!satoru who runs to you after every race, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you on the lips before celebrating with his team

[gilverrwrites]

at this point we should give dick a sionis!reader and call it a day 💀 all the batboys have one now except for him (but I have no idea what his plot would look like compared to the other three)

Yeah, Jason and Tim dating with his kids and now Bruce sleeping with his ex-wife, Roman’s hatred of them is becoming more and more justified. . Can I also just add that Roman would be the most miserable girl dad. Imagining him with his 3 bastard girls and ex wife who he's still hung up on but can't win back fills me with joy and its becoming a full on AU in my head.

Anyway, okay, so hear me out with my pitch; Jason/The Rebellious child, Tim/The Favourite child, Dick/The forgotten child

Specifically, one who has tried so hard all their life to not be. Even more specifically, a dancer, a singer, maybe a triple threat. It’s not that you need the attention, you’re good at what you do, you get the parts, you have a small fanbase, you’ve won some minor awards. But just once you’d like to look out into the crowd and see your father or your siblings out there cheering for you.

You try so hard to be supportive of the rest of your family, always there for everybody. You listen to your rebellious sibling and your father bitch about each other constantly, you help them mend their bridges. Rebel is notoriously flaky, but you always step up and cover for them.

You help the favourite study. You were the only one who knew when they started seeing Tim and you helped keep it a secret.

You attend all your fathers parole hearings, all his club launches. You wear the stupid clothes and play the happy, smiling child whenever he wants to show his kids off at events.

But no matter how much you do for everyone, they never return the favour. As soon as you bring up an audition you need help with or a new show you’re in, everybody dips. Nobody takes you up on the free tickets you can get them. When you were training, Roman footed the bills and told all his buddies about his kid the dancer/singer/whatever, but not once did he show up to a single one of your recitals.

But one day, at one of his stupid galas, Dick Grayson catches you dancing by yourself on the patio outside and is instantly smitten.

“Where’s your dance partner?”

“Oh, haha. Can’t you see him? He’s right here.” You jokingly gesture to the air.

“Ah of course, hello sir. Mind if I cut in? Not at all, please be my guest.” He puts on a silly voice as he answers himself before offering a hand to you. “May I?”

And you’re sceptical at first, but you take his hand, and you let him whisk you off. You dance around in circles all evening, laughing and joking, and getting to know each other. You have the night of your life, but dating Dick Grayson seems like a bad idea, it’s not that you don’t want it, it’s just that your dad would so not approve. So, you resolve to move on, but will always remember that magical night.

Until a few weeks later, you step on stage and spot him front and centre in the audience looking elated. And although it's downright euphoric for you to see him there, you're not prepared to face him. Alas, he comes to your dressing room straight after the show anyway. Reaching you before you can sneak out, and confronting you about never calling him back.

You explain your hesitations and that golden child part of his brain understands, his heart aches for you. But he so selfishly wants to see more of you, so he gently mentions how your dad doesn’t seem to care what you do... and hey, maybe he’s out of line here and if you want to tell him to take a hike he will but all he wants is a chance to be a part of your life, can’t you spare him one date? Please?

And damn is he hard to say no too. So, you concede. And one date becomes two, then three, and so on…

It doesn’t take long for you to fall hard and fast for him. C’mon who wouldn’t?

He’s handsome, and charming, funny, smart, and superb dancer to boot.

But what really does it for you is how badly he really does wants to be a part of your life. Dick Grayson wants to dance with you anywhere and everywhere; At galas, in the rain on the way home from a date, in your kitchen at 3AM.

Dick Grayson could listen to you talk about anything and everything all day long. Doesn’t have to be performance related, but he likes it best when it is. He especially loves reminiscing about his circus days with you.

And though his job may get in the way sometimes, Dick Grayson wants to be front row at every single one of your shows. He wants to clap the loudest, and bring you flowers, and tell all of his friends, THAT’S MY BOO up there! From the moment he met you, Dick Grayson could never, ever forget you.

How we feeling about this concept?

[sillystappen]

HELLO

i was wondering if you can do max as a singer and not a driver

i wonder if he can be MARINA and he interested in f1 and goes there to watch the races

HIHI!!!

Singer!Max huh? Ok I see you.

And mother of god did figuring the logistics of this AU hurt my brain :')

Ofc Max would retain his interest in F1 heck I might even make him kart when he was a kid but drop out for angsty lore reasons. Naturally this would make his relationship with his father very strained and almost nonexistent if it weren't for the fact Max still hasn't blocked his number. He spent most of his kid/teenage life with his mum and sister in belgium and thrived in music classes, having a natural sense of rhythm and being able to hear the layers in a song. He still watches F1 on tv and becomes a Daniel fan after Spain 2014 - Daniel's first podium, though he also is team Rosberg when brocedes happens (no reason other than I like Nico Rosberg)

As for his music type honest to god I can see why you would say MARINA as those lyrics can definitely be Max coded but genre wise and looking at her performing idk if that fits the Max vibes bc I wanna keep him from going too OOC. But not in a total stray from the idea of MARINA, I propose... Conan Gray. Still kinda indie vibes (and I love indie) and there's a lot of desiderium songs as well as full on pop bops and hopeless romantic stuff which give people some good emotional rollercoaster concerts. However these songs and albums release date will be manipulated to it my narrative because trying to align a calendar with an interesting plot and those songs just was too much...

For Daniel and any race settings, I am thinking of using the 2021 season. Which I'm sure you all are thinking: Silly, what would be the 2021 season without Max in it? Wouldn't it just go to Lewis without a fight? And I thought long and hard about it, looking through the grid and reserves to see who if anyone should take the seat that Max originally had and... it's Daniel. You heard it here first folks this baby is a Daniel never left Red Bull fic too. Using this Mr V's Garage's video, I borrowed the simulated 2021 season between Norris and Sainz and made it Lewis and Daniel (who will ofc win) with 3rd place going to Checo (because i like checo) and 4th Bottas. As for Abu Dhabi... there's no way it won't be controversial come on.

I imagine a meeting between Daniel and Max would be him getting paddock passes after saving up and ends up being recognised by Daniel at the Belgian Grand Prix. At this point he has he has had Kid Krow out for nearly 2 years after saving a crap load of money from royalties and a birthday gift from his sister he finally had enough money for a paddock pass over a grandstand ticket (but holy fuck those things are expensive). He meets Daniel who is like "holy shit you're Max Verstappen! Wearing my DR3 hat?" and Max feels like holy shit is very much correct because Daniel knows who he is?!?! Queue both of them having a fanboy moment and Daniel admitting he cried when he heard heather for the first time. But Daniel has to be pulled away so he gives Max his number and invites him to the garage (much to christian's chagrin but hey, number one golden driver championship contender privileges). Max totally nerds and Daniel thinks its cute and the mechanics are surprised by Max's knowledge.

They go on "friend-dates" to get to know each other properly and surprisingly (to them not to us) they click really well. Daniel invites him to GPs and Max invites Daniel to music video sets (they sneak Daniel into an MV and if you look close enough you can see him in the background) and a lot of trips to the recording studio. The internet being the internet picks up on this and are like AIN'T NO WAY OMG WORLDS COLLIDING all dramatic like that. There's even TikTok edits and a small tumblr community (hi) about them.

Then one day Max goes on an interview and is asked about Daniel. "He's probably the best person in my life right now, outside of work and family. Gosh, I've been a fan since 2014, and my sister will tell you I yelled pretty loudly when he won in Canada that year. But the Daniel you guys see in media is only half the story. He's kind and considerate and generous and a really comfortable person to be around and I am glad I bumped into him in Spa. He's been my rock as I work on my newest album."

Hashtag maxiel starts popping off a lot more mainstream and Daniel calls Max after the interview to tell him how sweet and lovely he is and as he gushes Daniel has the 'oh I love him' moment, like actually in love and not just a how a fan would. He doesn't say it, of course, but the penny has dropped.

For Max, the 'oh I love him' would be when they're back in Daniel's hotel room post race (that Daniel won ofc) and they're sat on a sofa in front of a quiet TV playing some sort of movie when Daniel falls asleep on Max's shoulder. Max looks down at him and just knows 'i love him' then and there. It's a quiet realisation, and one he is content with.

As for how they get together, it's one of the times Daniel is in Max's recording studio listening as Max sings, completely entrapped. When Max finishes and sits down next to him, he asks what Daniel thinks Daniel doesn't hesitate to say he thinks Max is amazing and that the song will be a hit, but suggests a few tweaks to the instrumental. Max takes this seriously and appreciates the honesty, kissing Daniel's cheek as thanks. It was the way Max looked at him and gently held his face that has Daniel sitting there for a moment before going fuck it and properly kissing Max.

They don't announce their relationship until Daniel after wins his second championship in 2022 but spend the rest of 2021 and the entirety of 2022 soft launching it and teasing. Daniel posts photos of Max hugging him in Abu Dhabi 2021 and lots of photos of them hanging out in winter and summer break. The F1 media catches Max in the paddock and Red Bull garage a lot and Daniel at the Superache tour in late 2022 (what about the tour? what tour? the early 2022 world tour? yh that didnt happen I'm just adding a couple songs from there into the superache setlist). Max also posts a video of Daniel lipsyncing to Overdrive whilst holding a deodorant can and standing on a bed.

The actual announcement spooks the F1 world more than the music one and at first it's a lot for them, the questions and the prying, the demand to know it all and of course the homophobia but they get through it all fine and dandy.

Oh and Jimmy and Sassy? They give Daniel the seal of approval the moment he shows up offering pets. And that was the only outside opinion that ever mattered.

{I may flesh this into a full on fic, but I also might not but I liked your idea anyway and wanted to put the concept I created into the world! I hope you like it.}

[saintobio]

LOST WORLD

“when the end approaches, but the apocalypse is long lived.”

pairing. satoru gojou, reader

genre. angst, post apocalypse au

warnings. unedited, gore, death, zombies infectious diseases

Do you remember what life was before Satoru Gojou?

It was sad. Miserable. Pathetic in every sense. The world had no meaning, and existing felt like a punishment rather than a privilege. The things you were doing had no purpose. They were repetitive, soulless, and depressing. Each time you’d find yourself staring outside of the window, the skies were becoming gloomier. The miasma of decay was getting thicker. There was scarcity in food and water. Yet, there was no option to go outside of your abandoned home when an eerie fog with the acrid smell of rotting flesh and blood were everywhere haunting you.

At one point, rather than trying to survive in a world that no longer welcomed you, you believed it would have been easier to just perish. Die at long last just like everyone else you knew. The people who once had a family, a lover, a pet, and a friend—they used to be people like you. Alive and breathing under your warm skin and fully-functioning set of human organs. But now, they were the opposite of what you once knew. They had become ghastly, tottering creatures looking at you with their frenzied, colorless eyes, and their putrid, saliva-filled mouths. In fact, when a couple of them managed to break into your home, staggering to chase you around the house with the rabid eagerness to masticate on your innards, you thought of finally just letting things be. After all, no one was left. You were probably the only living being in an area full of decomposing, white-blanched corpses. With their wretched appearance and fetid smell, the last bits of humor inside of you wanted to go along and mimic their series of raspy growls. You were dying, anyway. Finally.

You knew you were dying. You anticipated how their disease would soon be inching its way into your flesh.

That, with no resistance, you would let yourself be one of them.

That was your plan. That was… until every single zombie in your vicinity was sniped with a shotgun. You could barely move as bits of flesh, blood, and sinew flew all over the place. Their skulls—busted. Their entrails—falling out. You would have screamed in disgust after seeing maggots crawl out of their eyes, but then your eyes caught sight of the hero who saved the poor damsel in distress. His arctic white hair, electric blue eyes, and porcelain skin. There was no sign of a single disease in his body.

Damn. How could one person shoot a shotgun with such precision and accuracy? But more importantly, how much of a cliche was it for him to show up and be your savior at the brink of your death?

“Satoru Gojou,” he’d easily introduced himself, pulling his makeshift mask down while standing tall behind the army of foul-smelling beasts that he just massacred. What a cool man. What a dream. What a… what a… hold on, wasn’t he too good to be true?

“I must be dead,” you even joked at the time despite your struggle to catch your breath, “There’s no way a random guy would just come up here and save me like this.”

One smirk from him was all it took to completely win you over. “You don’t look dead to me.” And then a hand to help you up. “Come on, we gotta leave this place.”

And so you did. You were brought to a safe haven that you never thought existed. You were acquainted with people who had a beating heart and an uninfected brain. You were given the golden ticket to cohabit with them in a secured camp and an acceptable living condition. Everything was rationed, but you had no right to ask for much in a situation like that. All you could offer was your gratefulness, and every time you saw your godly, angel-faced hero, you could not help but think of how much you owe your living life to him.

So much so that you would think about ways to approach him without becoming a bother. He was your typical popular guy, expected by the others to rescue their lives. You were just one of the many. He had the virtue of a soldier, ready for war just to make sure that his people were safe and sound. Maybe he actually was in the army before, which could explain the reason for his expertise in guns and survival. There was no way for you to know when you barely had the chance to talk to him, and sincerely thank him at the very least, for saving your life when you almost lost it.

But then, he must have heard the same thing from the countless women who followed his tail each time he arrived back in the camp. The ladies would scramble on their feet just to make sure that they were tending to his needs; feeding him warm meals, treating his wounds, making him laugh.

You see, crushing on a stranger was a ridiculous idea, especially in the middle of an apocalyptic world. You kept that thought in your head as you stepped through a pile of mud, cursing under your breath while continuing towards the pathway to the bonfire. No, you didn’t make it there. Because someone had smoothly pulled you by the belt loop, dragging you behind the tree before he revealed his most admiring self.

“S-Satoru,” you stammered without a reason. Or maybe you did have a reason. He was good-looking enough that your thoughts were becoming jumbled. A hot mess, truly, with his mop of white hair and his piercing blue eyes. Not to mention his parted, pink lips and his slightly exposed toned chest.

“You’re really out here pretending I don’t exist, huh?” There was that playful tone and that goddamned attractive smirk. With his hand moving to your lower back and his forearm resting on the trunk of the tree, you almost let out a swoon. “I was waiting for you to approach me.”

You turned your face away a little, only to a certain degree so he wouldn’t notice the heat on your cheeks. “That’s funny ‘cause… since that day, I’ve actually been waiting, too.”

“Hmm?” he tilted his head and deepened his gaze.

“I mean, waiting for an opportunity,” you clarified, releasing an awkward chuckle, “to talk to you and thank you. You’re just always surrounded by people, so…”

He straightened his posture as he pulled away and began nodding his head, as if he was connecting the dots in his head. “You can always walk up to me. Anytime,” he assured, “I’d actually love to know you more.”

You knew what everyone else might be thinking; ‘Seriously? You’re having a love affair in this situation?’

Well, if you were going to meet death, anyway, why should you settle being a miserable, lonely woman?

“You’re a miserable, lonely woman,” spoke one of the survivors in your cabin, Meredith, glaring at you with her arms crossed across your bunker. “That, or you just truly lost it.”

While she was laughing and moving her index finger in circles beside her head, the other survivor was decent enough to shush her, telling her to stop throwing insults towards you. “Quit doing that. She needs time to adjust,” said Shoko Ieiri, “It’s traumatizing out there, you know?”

“Yeah, but she still needs to help us with some errands here! We’re not living here for free. We have duties. Ugh… I’m so sick of cleaning the nasty toilets.”

“She’ll come around. Be patient with her.”

“She’s been here for two months! She can’t just stay in her bunker all day and do nothing!”

“Meredith—”

“Hey, lunatic!” her amber eyes bore into you. “Wake the fuck up and get your ass workin’. If you really wanna survive, you need to do your job.”

You took a deep breath and sighed. “Can I… Can I see Satoru first?”

Meredith let out a groan. “Here we go again.”

“Wh-Why?” you asked, frantically. “I just… I wanna talk to him. I wanna thank him for saving me.”

This time, it was Ieiri who sat at the corner of your bed, patting your back in a soothing motion. “Satoru is…” she hesitated. “He’s not here, Y/N. He never was.”

As if lightning struck your entire body. “What do you mean? What do you—? He was here. He was just talking to me last night!”

“I know, I know.” Ieiri sent you a look of sympathy. Sympathy that you didn’t really ask for. “I understand it’s been a difficult time. It’s been a really traumatizing experience, but trust me, everything’s going to be okay.”

You held onto her arms as tears pooled your eyes. All those voices in your head, the pain in your heart… “S-Stop. What are you saying, Ieiri? He was… He was with me.”

“He’s dead,” she said the very words you refused to hear. “He didn’t survive the first wave of zombies that infested our town.”

“But…” You shook your head in hard refusal. “But he was there, he rescued me.”

“It was Suguru who did,” Ieiri confirmed, reaching what appears to be a bottle of Fanapt pills under your pillow. “Satoru’s not with us anymore. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for your loss.”

[aphroditesmoon]

reverie

jock!jacaerys velaryon x reader (modern au)

summary: He just wants you to be his.

warnings: nsfw, smut (minors dni!!), social anxiety

a/n: today I give you himbo jace. tomorrow? who knows? thank you for 400 followers! <33 ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

°°°

You curse loudly as you are met with Jace Targaryen's leering face behind your locker door when you slam it shut.

"Oh sorry, didn't mean to scare you." You doubted it. The football team was known for being absolutely menaces, the only thing they took seriously was their coach and games.

You release a sigh and shook your head. "No it's fine, do you need something?" His smile appears at your question.

"Not really, just wondering if you're coming to the party at Aegon's tonight, it's to celebrate our big win." If it were anyone else, you'd tell them to go play with their own balls and leave you alone.

But it was Jace. You didn't know him that well, but having being his literature tutor last month for pre trials, you found him much more tolerable than the other guys on his team, a little dense at times, but genuinely trying his best.

"Oh, well, I don't know? I mean I wasn't even at the game-"

"You weren't at the game? Didn't you get the ticket I left in your locker?" He asks frowning and concerned.

"I did! but I had this pop quiz the next morning and needed to study, so I gave it to my friend instead. But thank you for the ticket, really." He nodded understandingly, seeming to calm down.

"ah that makes sense, I tried looking for you in the crowd and I thought you didn't get it when I didn't see- oh! but you know what you could do to make it up to me for missing my game?" he immediately cuts himself off excitedly like a golden retriever.

His smile was infectious and you found yourself mirroring it. "What?"

"If....you came tonight?" He cringed at his words and his eyes looked at yours pleadingly.

You sighed heavily before nodding and almost immediately he hooted out loud scaring off freshmans walking by.

You swear and shove your hand againts his mouth to shut him up. He pulls your hand off and holds it instead of letting go, revealing his never dimming smile. "I promise you, it'll be fun, and I'll be waiting so don't bail on me."

You told him you won't as you flash him one last smile before walking to your class.

°°°

The party was loud. And as the stench of alcohol filled your senses, you almost walk out and drive back home just because. But you promised Jace.

He finds you as soon as you walk in, Shouting your name over the blasting music and pulling you through the sweaty dancing bodies to the pool table.

He hands you a drink thats been by the side of the table as you came, it seems that he has been waiting for you like he said he would.

That warmed your heart.

"I'm glad you're here! This is punch by the way, I know you don't drink." He states. You gift him with a soft smile and thank him for it as you down the punch in one swallow.

You notice how his hand hasn't left yours still and decided you quite like the feeling of his skin on yours, if not for the feeling of safety in this animal barn of drunk humans, then for how soft his hand is.

He introduces you to his cousin Aegon and her sister Helaena, you've seen both before, though Aegon, in your memory, has sat on the bench more than played on the field, not that he ever looked bothered by it, always having fun taunting and making fun of his teammates from the side.

Helaena was undeniably well known. For her high marks in exams and active roll in animal care clubs. You've even dabbled in a bit with donating money for dog shelter funds hosted by her.

They both greeted you kindly, easily slipping in and out of conversations.

"So...you two a thing?" of course this was from Aegon.

Jace was defensive and told him to 'shut you square face up' , still not letting go of your hand and in fact holding it tighter.

You laugh and told him it's fine, calming down the angry chihuahua of a boy next to you.

"We're good friends, I was his tutor for Lit class last month, it seemed that understanding Hamlet wasn't his strong suit."

This fished a smile out of him as he poked you playfully and you pushed him back.

"Oh who can understand that Shakespeare dude? He's always going on and on about graves and apples and shit-"

"I don't think he's talked about apples so far Aegon." Helaena countered swiftly making Jace burst laughing with you.

"Apples? Are you sure you've been reading Hamlet or Snow White? You dumbass."

You choked out laughing and squeezing his shoulder as Aegon swore he's read something about apples in Shakespeare's works.

"Please Jace, you know my brother can't even read children's book, unless it's the picture ones." A voice you didn't recognize speaks behind you. Aemond Targaryen appears, walking to sit by his sister.

"Shut up you ass kisser." Aegon snapped and sulks. You and Helaena giggles at the sight and Jace pulls you to sit by him at the opposite couch, his hand releasing your grasp only to move itself around your waist.

The action made your breath quickens as you struggle to remain composed.

You take Jace's own drink from his hand chugs it. "Alright then, your welcome I guess." He murmurs raising his eyebrows at you.

You grin and apologizes as he waves you off, a hand moving to brush out a strand of hair out of your face.

You immediately look away to distract yourself before your face has a chance to turn red.

Your eyes meets Aemond's gaze who have already been looking at you.

"[name], I think I've seen you before, we have Chemistry together don't we?" He asks, breaking the stare first.

You nodded and give him a smile. "Yeah we do."

He hums as you confirm it, then he points at you and Jace. "You two together? He's your boyfriend?"

"No they're just fucking." Aegon replied before Jace got to.

"We're not-" Jace stutters as you glare at Aegon. "Why don't you go back to your snow white pictures books loser."

Aegon gasped and told you to shove it before pretending to cry on a pillow as Aemond snorted while Helaena genuinely thought her brother was crying.

"We're not dating-or fucking. We're just friends, I tutored him for Lit class last month." You could not keep having this same conversation to be honest.

He nods and smiles softly at you. "So that means you're not seeing anyone then?"

Oh so this was where this was going.

You blinked at him as realization hits you.

"Um, well no-"

"Actually, [name] isn't dating anyone for now because she needs to focus on studying for her college trials exams in November." Jace cuts you off, a little too loud.

You looked at him suprised, you didn't remember telling him about your trials exams.

You shrug off your doubts, assuring yourself you must've forgotten, and turned back to Aemond. "Yeah, he's right." He wasn't, you never had a no dating rule for your trials exams, you simply didn't care for Amy of the dogs I'm your school.

"Oh, well- that's unfortunate." You didn't question what he meant by that as you got up and excused yourself to the bathroom.

You didn't need to pee at all, but here you were sitting in a toilet booth for 3 minutes straight before even thinking of coming out.

You had fun talking to the Targaryens, though at this moment you were reminded of why you'd often avoid parties.

You couldn't stand the alcohol stench making you want to puke, and the loud music making your ears ring until you want cut them off. The sweaty body of people standing and dancing too close to you was definitely not helping either.

You'd suffer through a few more hours at least before you'd left for Jace, but hopefully you won't have to repeat this night.

As you walk back to the poker table, the amount of people there was double than earlier. You stumble back at the unfamiliar faces crowding the table. They were listening and laughing at Jace's story on the day they won the game.

You were sure they had heard this more than a few times, but the girl sitting on your place with her arm linked around his certainly didn't look a bit bored by it.

You have a sudden impulsive urge to pull her by her hair off your seat but of course, you knew better.

You feel a wave of disappointment, and even sadness, take over you, as you reel back from the view and walk to the pantry for a drink.

You decided you'd stay here for while, it was less noise and crowded than other places, and you won't seem much like a lonely loser if you had the excuse of needing to refill your punch.

You were shaken out of your thoughts as Aemond appears with an empty cup in front of you.

"Hey you." he greets, sending you a small smile. You smiled back as you give a small hey.

"What're you doing here instead of sitting with your little boyfriend?" he teases.

"He's not my boyfriend, and I'm refiling my drink." You replied lamely. He of course, could see right through you. "Right, because refilling your drink takes 10 minutes." You crack a smile at his sarcasm and playfully punch his arm as his own grim widens.

"No I just - I just don't like big crowds, it makes me uncomfortable" He hums at your explanation. "yeah me too, but it's more of a 'i don't like people' kind of uncomfortable instead of 'they make me anxious' kind, y'know?" You let out a short laugh at that nodding at him.

He asks you how you got to be Jace's tutor, and you told him about how the teacher paired you as his mentor after seeing him fail continuously because of his football games taking over his time in classes. The two of you talk for a while, you ask him about how close his and Jace's family are, and he indulges you with embarassing childhood stories of him and his siblings.

A particular one about Jace accidentally kneeing aegon on his balls while trying to teach him football really got you. He told you that Jace even offered to have Aegon kick him back.

He did of course, but just for fun, not because he was pissed or anything

He was halfway through the story of how Aegon and Luc once hid Jace's clothes when he was in the shower and they made him chase them through their yard buttnaked as a 12 year old, when you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you out of your laughter.

You were suprised by Jace standing behind you. He had a worried expression that quickly turned relieved when you smiled at him.

"There you are, you didn't come back to the table for a while, I got worried." He spoke softly as his hand wrap around your shoulders.

"Oh yeah, there were so many people, so I just sat here for a while, I was just talking with Aemond so don't worry, I'm fine." You reassure him.

As his eyes take in Aemond's presence in front of you, the two stared at eachother for a second before breaking their gaze.

Aemond announces he needs to go make sure no one's ransacked his room to have sex yet and attempt sleep in this havoc and you two said your goodbyes.

You didn't have time to turn to Jace when he pulls you by your arm towards a guest room by the kitchen and closes the door the moment you enter.

At first you thought he was going through one of those irrational male rage moments. But the he immediately turned to you and apologized for grabbing you.

"It's loud as hell outside, and you don't seem to like being around people and all." He explains.

"oh yeah" You were secretly grateful for his thoughtfulness, it was nice to have the noise muffled out.

You get comfortable as you sit crossed leg on the bed and squeals when he jumps on.

He lays on his back and starts rolling towards you until he's next to you and with his back on the bed.

"So, you probably regret coming, don't you?" You frown at him and shook your head.

"I had fun, Jace. I'm glad I got to meet your cousins, Aemond even told me some interesting stories of you when you were kids." You tease wiggling your eyebrows.

He groans and curses his cousin before turning away to his other side, hiding his face from you.

You only laugh, indulging in his humiliation.

He turns back to you, his eyes reading your face.

"What else did you guys talk about?" He asks.

"Oh, nothing interesting, we didn't talk long at all."

"Yet you were gone quite long?" He says it like it's more of a statement.

Before you can say anything, he asks again; "Do you like him?"

His question took you by suprise. Your eyes widen in bewilderment.

"..No? I- why would you think that-"

He gets up and copies your sitting position as you two faces eachother.

"I- I don't know, you came with me, and the. you just, left? And I find you with him, I mean, I'm not like mad, I just- If you like him it's fine-"

"Well I don't." You snapped.

"I did come back to you but you were already getting comfortable with some girl in my seat, of course I'd go somewhere else!" Your outburst has him reaching out to put his hands on your shoulder, an attempt to calm you.

"Some girl? Who- wait, you mean Baela? [name], she's my cousin" He explains gently.

You feel embarrassment slips in as your face reddens. "God's sake how many fucking Targaryens are there in our school, do you guys roam around like a clique or something." He bursts out laughing shaking his head, making you blush harder if it's even possible.

You wait until he finishes laughing, joining him in againts your own will.

When he finally calms down, He looks at you with a glow in his eyes, hard to decipher.

"I don't like anyone besides you."

Your heartbeat quickens.

"I- I know, you'd probably prefer someone, more, smart, better than whatever I am, but you have always been the only person for me. I really, really like you." You could hear how nervous he was in his voice, and your own is stuck on your throat.

He was undoubtedly one of the most kindest, responsible, sweetest person you knew. The type of person to always put your needs over his, the type to make sure you'd get home safe and wouldn't mind wasting his time to assure it.

And the fact that he thought he wasn't good enough for you made you feel that maybe it was you who didn't deserve him.

The silence between you drowned him I'm anxiety. He starts stuttering and apologizing, moving to rise from the bed, and as you awaken from your daze, you pull him back down closes your mouth with his, his soft lips, and cherry tasting tongue, an ecstasy you let yourself revel in.

He moans and pulls you closer and you take the initiative to climb on his lap, placing your legs on each side of his hip. His hand grips your waist the free one holds your face like glass he's afraid to shatter.

You prove his theory wrong when you grind on his crotch, earning a groan. He tightens his hold on your hips snakes his hand from your face to your hair, pulling it back to expose your neck to him.

You let an unholy moan as he bents his head to leave kisses and marks on your throat, sucking at the sensitive spot under your ear. You feel yourself move harder on his growing hardness, craving some sort of friction.

You pull on his hair as he moves lower to the valley of your breast. Releasing his hold on you to rip through the middle off your dress making you gasp.

"This is a new dr-"

"I'll buy you a new one right after" He promises.

Your argument dies on your lips as he lifts you by your ass and lays you on your back.

He curses and you feel him rub himself on your thighs as he stares at the bare state you're in. You feel the urge to cover yourself but he pulls your hand away when they try to move in front of your chest, and pins them on top of your head.

His hold on your hands remains when he starts to kiss down your chest, Licking and kissing your breast before taking a nipple in your mouth. You whine and thrash in his hold as he sucks and licks you in like a baby in hunger. As he moves to give you other tit the same treatment, one of his hand frees yours as it moves down to grasp your wet, red and marked tit. Squeezing and rubbing your wet nipples, torturing it.

He lowers himself until his face is at your level and kisses you hard, a bruising kiss, as his tongue plunges in your mouths to meet yours. He fails to restrains himself from biting your bottom lip, triggering a whine from you when he sucks the tinge of blood from it.

You feel tears well up at your eyes in desperation and need for him to touch you somewhere else.

"Jace please, oh god" You arch your back in pleasure and frustration when you feel him finally release your breast from his mouth. Moving lower and spreading your legs as you watch him, dazed, as he levels his fave with your cunt.

"God you're so fucking beautiful, my sweet girl. All this for me?" He swipes a finger through your fold and you moan erotically.

He wastes no time diving in your pussy, licking you like a cat, tasting you as he holds your thrashing legs apart.

Your hands meet his hair as you pull his fave deeper in your cunt, grinding and riding it with no shame, His name a prayer falling from your lips over and over.

Begging for your release, he takes pity as he plunges two fingers into your weeping core, pushing in and out as you clench tight around it.

He swears at how tight you were, adding a third finger away as you cry out of the fullness.

"If you're this tight on my finger, I wonder how you'd feel around my cock" He breathes out, in awe of how your cunt welcomes his fingers.

His mouth joins his hand as he starts sucking on your clit, switching with licking long stripes on it, making you scream out his name as you grip his roots so hard he might get bald.

You feel your orgasm nearing as he sucks harder on your nerves and thrusts his fingers faster until squelching noise of your wet pussy attacked by his big fingers were heard.

He groans at the sight of your pussy clamping down on his fingers as you cry out in pleasure, squirting out all over his hand, cum splattering some on his face.

He waits until your breath slows down before he likes your cum clean from your pussy and wiping his face with his knuckle and licking that too. Rising over your spent body, he shoves three fingers in your mouth. "Suck." A demand so dominantly said, you would've thought he was a completely different person from the sweet Jace you knew of.

You oblige willingly, tasting yourself on him as he eyes you intensely.

He pulls his fingers out and replaces it with his tongues as he close the gap between you two in a fiery passionate kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck as his kiss turns softer.

He pulls away gently and a smile broke into his face.

"Does that mean you'll go on date with me?" He whispers as he boops your nose, making you giggle.

"I would love to go on a date with you Jace."

[demigod-of-the-agni]

FF7 REBIRTH SPOILERS ft. Some of my thoughts on the Golden Saucer Dates >:))))))

I will proclaim which one is my favourite

warning: i hate dates. therefore all my opinions on the following, and my final verdict, are correct. good day.

Alone

Cloud's lonely gold saucer outing, when he comes across Jessie's picture and he tells her, "Hey, still waiting for that pizza" with the most saddest eyes ever.... be still my weeping heart

Also I love how he acknowledges that the skywheel is a couple's thing, then proceeds to board it anyway 💀 it'd be nice to see the whole thing by yourself though (<- i am an introvert what more can i say)

Tifa

Tifa's little spiel about wanting to make friends always hits me like a tonne of bricks, everything she says is FUEL TO MY STUPID AUs... WOMAN <33333

When they Jessie's picture and Tifa talks about Jessie saved her.... oh... oh my heart. i cannot take this anymore

WHEN THE FIREWORKS GO OFF AND THE COLOURS OF THEIR EYES BRIGHTEN,,, AND THEN HUG JUMPSCARE,,,, AND THEN KISS !!!!!!!! oughhh,,,, it's so good,,,,,,, everything is so perfect about the scene they are just. everything

Aerith

NAHHH THE DISRESPECT MY MAN HAD BY SITTING OPPOSITE TO MY GIRL.... HOW RUDE. Aerith deserved to spin the carriage around until Cloud spits out all the mako in him

RAGH when the laser show had them crashing into each other and they just sit down defeated next to each other.... it was so funny,,,, task failed successfully

WHEN CLOUD REACHED OVER TO HOLD HIS HAND IN AERITH'S.... THAT MAKES THE ENDING HIT SO MUCH HARDER. NO ONE TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN

Yuffie

In my mind Yuffie seems like she's 12 (i know she's 16 or so do NOT come at me) so the date is really just Cloud babysitting her and honestly it went just as I expected: adorably :''3 Yuffie speaking for the both of them, so real of her

"I swear Cloud, it's like you're destined to be surrounded by smoking hot chicks" [strikes a pose] and Cloud laughing like yeah, you're a little silly Yuffie

GIRL WAS DOING JUMPING JACKS WHILE WAITING FOR CLOUD TO HAND OVER THE SKYWHEEL TICKETS AJSHSHSL

WHEN SHE STARTS TALKING ABOUT ZACK... AND THEN SHE CATCHES CLOUD LAUGHING AT HER LATER AND SHE SIH-SIH-HAH'S HIM.... AND HE PLAYS ALONG TOO.... be still my screaming heart,,, the boy is embodying Zack in more ways than one

Barret

"Well, well, I wake baby from his nap?" if this were said to me I would immediately leave and mess up Barret's bed. let's see who gets better sleep after that

Anyways I'm forever in love with how, between the two of them, money jokes are their form of love. like that gets to me you know

BARRET'S "IN-KWEH-DIBLE" WILL FOREVER BE SEARED INTO MY BRAIN BY THE WAY. HE SOUNDS SO DELIGHTED AT SAYING THAT. I'M CHERISH IT FOREVER

Red XIII

"I already have the tickets, but look at me... there's no way I'm getting in by myself" dude look at you HOW DID YOU GET THE TICKETS

Red and Cloud are just having a guy's night, it's just so lit, I love it so much they are just good bros and no I'm not tearing up :''3

The two shaking hands is also so incredibly touching to me... they are just little guys!!! and then the "They ARE soft!" from Cloud,,, perfect timing my guy !!!!

Cait, Vincent, and Cid

ALL THREE OF THEM STANDING OUTSIDE THE DOOR HAD ME CACKLING BECAUSE. THE IMPLICATIONS OF HOW ALL THREE OF THEM DECIDED TO RECRUIT CLOUD INTO THEIR GUY'S NIGHT??? well maybe not all three, Vincent being Vincent was probably coerced into it, and Cid just wanted to tag along. The culprit of this outing was-

Vincent falling asleep is incredibly in character and relatable. return this man to his coffin. two decades of sleeping is not enough.

Cait pulling his hairs out is fucking sending me, poor lad

AND NOW... THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR.... WHICH DATE WAS BEST???

Vincent, Cait and Cid. boys' night. it's an automatic win

jk but I loved Clerith's date the most... maybe it is because I follow tragedy and it follows me, but while the Clofi date is Canon, the Clerith date is so tender, and it really signals to me the could-have-been's. and i love the could-have-been's ykyk

okay bye

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Open to Interpretation" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 10/16: Open to Interpretation Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: General Word Count: (2.4K/24K) Summary: Emma Swan is appalled at works by modern artist Killian Jones- until a handsome stranger convinces her otherwise- and after introducing himself as the artist in question, he invites her out on a date. As their relationship develops, they find that they might not be as different from each other as originally thought. Chapter Summary: As they share about their lives on the way to the graduation, Killian asks Emma an important question- and then continues to flirt with her and attempt to win her heart Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, modern au Author's notes: Bonus chapter update this week! This one's one of the longer chapters in the fic, so I hope you like it! Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 Killian looked at Emma again, thankful he was familiar enough with the empty back roads to let her distract him from time to time.

 "What do you mean by that, love?" he asked.

 "You're not the only broken person in this car, Emma said.

 Killian nodded for her to continue.

 "I moved in with my first boyfriend when I was sixteen," Emma said, "I thought he was my golden ticket out of the system- turns out a copper ticket gets you just as far. We didn't last very long- I'd had three more exes by the time I was twenty-one, and plenty more after that- and each of them left their own kind of scars."

 He looked over at her to see her looking away, staring intently out the window.

 "The last one lasted the longest," Emma said, "it would've been five years today if he hadn't dumped me two weeks ago."

 "Two weeks ago?" Killian thought, "just a few days before I met her."

 "What happened?"

 Emma threw her head back against the seat and sighed. "He wanted to start seeing other people," Emma shook her head, "and a week later he'd found himself a shiny new girlfriend."

 "Emma deserves so much better," Killian thought, "She deserves someone who treasures her, values her, someone whose intentions with her are true."

 He swallowed a lump in his throat as he realized he wanted to be that for her. He wanted to bring her with him to all his exhibitions and benefit dinners. He wanted to sit on the couch with her and watch all their favorite movies together. He wanted to be the one to comfort her when she was hurting- to be the first one she turned to when she was hurting. He didn't want her companionship just to be a one time thing, or a brief fling- he wanted a relationship with Emma Swan.

 Once he was sure she was done speaking, he spoke up.

 "Forgive me if I'm bold in saying this," he said, "but you deserve so much better. You deserve someone who doesn't intend to let you down."

 "Thanks," Emma smiled.

 He took a deep breath.

 "I don't intend to let you down," Killian said.

 He turned to look at her, and she turned her eyes from his gaze. He looked back at the road they were driving down, knowing that focusing as well on driving might make the question he was about to ask so much easier.

 "Emma?"

 "Yeah?"

 "You'll soon run out of pardons for me being so bold," Killian said, "but I have an important question. You can say yes. You can take as long as you need to think about it, consider it, answer it later. You can tell me to act like this conversation never happened."

 "What conversation?" Emma asked.

 "The one where I make a fool of myself," he sighed, "and ask to be your boyfriend."

 She didn't respond.

 He looked over at her, trying to read her averted expression carefully, her silence telling him to regret putting his heart on the line so soon.

 She shook her head. "I don't think I'm ready."

 "I understand, love," Killian tried to hide his disappointment behind a smile, "I figured you might not be ready now. I just," he sighed, "I just want you to know, my intentions with you are true. I have no intentions of leading you on or ever abandoning you."

 He looked back over at her to find the fear he'd seen in her eyes slowly melting away.

 "Thank you," Emma said, "and I'm sorry I… it's not that I don't like you- I kind of like you a lot- I just…."

 "No need to apologize, love," he said, "I came on a little strong."

 "You're fine," Emma said, "and maybe sometime something might work out, but right now…."

 "A relationship is a work of art unto itself, Swan," he said, "it takes work, and planning, and sometimes the pieces that take longer than expected turn out to be your favorites. How about for now we just leave this one open to interpretation?"

 "That sounds good to me," Emma said.

 "Alright," he said.

 And though he was saddened by the rejection, he knew not to give up so easily. Emma had put up a wall between them- her mistake, really- not because a wall would scare him away, but because the opposite was true. Something about the challenge allured him, excited him. People only put up walls when they have something of value to protect, and Emma was a treasure like no other. Getting to her, to the treasure she'd buried within herself- that would be quite the feat, and none was more motivated than Killian Jones. He started contemplating all the little ways he could begin to woo her- subtle acts of devotion, stolen glances, romantic dinners, affectionate whispers, passionate touches.

 Of course, he'd do all that and more, no strings attached, if he knew their relationship would never be more than what it was, if it'd always be "open to interpretation." He took delight in the idea of doing things for Emma simply because he fancied her. What they had was already more than he deserved from a wonderful woman like Emma Swan.

 But more than anything else in the world, he wanted to win her heart.

 The roads they traveled grew more and more familiar as they got closer and closer to what Killian had once called home. Every now and then, he'd point out some place, some memory, something that called him back to his childhood- and those moments grew closer together the closer they got to his hometown.

 "The Smees used to live there," Killian said, pointing to a house they passed by, "their son Billy and I used to be best friends, until they moved away."

 "How long ago was that?" Emma asked.

 "Long enough ago that I remember him as 'Billy' and not 'William.'" Killian said.

 "I see."

 "And that's the soccer field Lee used to play on," Killian said, "I was never into sports, but I'd always go to the games to cheer him on."

 "That's so sweet," Emma said.

 "Someone had to," Killian said, "and it certainly wasn't gonna be our dad. But I always looked up to Lee, wanted to be just like him someday."

 Killian looked out the window solemnly, really missing his big brother's advice these past few years.

 "I think he'd be proud of you," Emma said.

 Killian smiled a little, "I sure hope so. But he'd sure find things are different."

 "How so?"

 "When our mom passed away, my dad sent us away to our grandmas." Killian said, "We returned to find he'd tossed out photos of her, sold her belongings, removed her very memory from the house- I didn't understand it at the time, but having been in his shoes, I understand the pain of a memory.

 "But when Lee passed, I knew my father would do the same thing- I was away at college, and I came back for Christmas break to find everything of his- and a few things of mine- gone from our old room."

 "That must've been hard," Emma said.

 "Fortunately I had the foresight to save something," Killian smiled and held out his hand, motioning to a ring on it, "his class ring. He always said it was a good luck charm- I guess it wasn't so lucky in the end though."

 Emma's hand returned to his shoulder, her touch a comfort like none other in the world.

 "I'm so sorry," she said.

 "It's alright," he smiled, "I'm learning not to dwell on the past, to live in the present instead."

 As they rounded the next corner, Killian got hit with a wave of nostalgia- seeing the high school he'd once graduated from for the first time in years.

 "Good old Hyperion High," Killian smiled, "I did four years here as a lad."

 "Did they give you an early release for good behavior?"

 "Something like that," Killian chuckled.

 He looked down at his watch- there were still twenty minutes until the graduation started- and he quickly found a parking space.

 As soon as he'd parked the car, he got out and ran to Emma's door so he could open it for her before she got to it first. He quickly opened her door and held out a hand to help her out of the car.

 "You know," Emma said, taking his hand and stepping out of the car, "I am capable of opening doors for myself, Killian," 

 "What a coincidence," he said, noting to himself again how the colors and figure of her dress complemented her natural beauty, "I'm capable of opening doors for you too."

 She rolled her eyes as he closed the door behind her.

 "Besides, I enjoy getting the door for you," Killian said, "makes me feel useful."

 "Who am I to deprive you that luxury?" Emma smiled. She then looked over her reflection in his car's tinted windows.

 "How do I look?" Emma asked.

 Though Killian wasn't going to pass up the excuse to stare at her more, and to appreciate even more how breathtaking she was, he already had a response to her question at the ready, having been thinking of compliments to sweep her off her feet since he first laid eyes on her that day.

 "Shining like Starry Night," Killian said, stepping behind her and watching his reflection in the window do the same, "more lovely than Monet's Impression Sunrise, and more beautiful than The Birth of Venus."

 Emma blushed as he put a hand on her shoulder.

 "Mona Lisa and The Girl With The Pearl Earring envy your beauty, and your grace, and charm."

 'I suppose this is what I get for dating an artist?" Emma said.

 "All dates come with a price," Killian said.

 "Don't I know it."

 "And the price of an artist is you're spending an evening with someone who appreciates your beauty," he said, "though there's much of it, and even as a professional in the subject, I still don't feel I do it justice."

 "If you're trying to fluster me, it's not gonna work," Emma said.

 "Bold words, but your flawless face betrays them," he brushed her cheek with his thumb, "your cheeks are flushed with a pink so vibrant, I'm surprised Semple hasn't tried to bottle it."

 The pink grew even more vibrant as he said that. He spun around to her side so his arm was wrapped around her shoulder, then he let her hand trickle down to her side instead.

 "You didn't ask me how you looked," Emma pointed out as they walked together towards the school.

 "Oh?" he asked, "my apologies. How do I look, Swan?"

 She smiled as she gave him a once-over with her eyes.

 "I see why you never painted a self portrait," she said, "I can imagine it'd be hard to capture something so handsome on canvas. Not even the great Killian Jones could do it justice."

 Her fingers gently grazed his cheek as they walked along, and he tried to remind himself not to let her words and her touch get to him too much yet.

 "Though I suppose if you could do it," she said, "you'd make millions off such a beautiful work of art."

 A heavy sigh slipped through his wide smile.

 "Pull yourself together," he thought, "she's already wooed you; you're trying to woo her, remember."

 "And if I could capture your beauty on a canvas," he said, "I'd never need to paint another masterpiece again."

 She smiled and nestled her head against his shoulder for a moment as they entered the school.

 Killian was hit with a touch of nostalgia once they were inside. He remembered walking through those doors every morning in his teenage years on his way to classes.

 All the nostalgia would have to wait though, as Killian was greeted by two familiar faces- his father and step mother.

 "Ah, glad to see you didn't bail out on us last minute, Killian," his dad said, greeting him with a handshake.

 "And miss out on my own brother's graduation?" Killian asked, faking civility, "wouldn't miss it for the world."

 "And I take it this is that girl you won't stop talking about," his dad then turned to Emma and shook her hand.

 "I didn't talk about her that much," Killian thought, hoping he wasn't blushing too much.

 "Emma," she introduced herself.

 "Brennan Jones," he said, "and this is my wife, Fiona."

 Emma shook hands as well with her.

 "A pleasure to meet you both," Emma said, then turned back to Brennan, "you really have raised a pretty great son."

 Killian smiled a little as Emma put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

 "Always warms a father's heart to hear that," his dad responded, "some days we wonder."

 He laughed a little, and Fiona and Emma did too, albeit respectively more awkwardly.

 "And don't worry," Killian said, hoping he could prove he'd done something right before his dad tried to throw in another backhanded insult, "potato salad's in a cooler in the car."

 "We'll get that in the fridge as soon as we get home," Fiona said, "Liam's so looking forward to the party tomorrow."

"His big brother couldn't be prouder of him," Killian said.

 "We should probably all go take our seats before the ceremony starts," Brennan said.

 They followed him into the auditorium, towards the front of the room.

 Killian shook his head a little, fighting off the nostalgia.

 "The last time I was in this room was my graduation- our graduation. Milah and I had such high hopes for our future- she was almost more excited about my art scholarship than I was. Gosh, I miss her."

 But then he happened to glance at Emma, and see her smile at him as they sat down next to each other in the folding auditorium seats.

 "Stop dwelling on the past, or you'll miss out on the present," he thought.

 He smiled back at Emma, then, not too quickly but not too slowly, wrapped his arm around the back of her seat, his hand on her shoulder.

 When he'd lost Milah, Killian thought he'd never get into a relationship again, not willing to put his heart out just to have it broken again. But with Emma, he almost felt he could love again. It was like she made him forget, forget all the pain that love can bring- and at the same time made him remember, remember all the hope and joy that comes with it.

 And he wanted to savor every second of it.

[notthestarwar]

Have another snippet of my writing that I like. This one prob requires a bit of set up so,

This is a modern au. Jaster raises 10 of Jango's kids in his absence, before Cody runs away at 16. Years later, Jango is murdered and it turns out that he's been living in the same city as Cody all along, and so have Wolffe and Fox, each living completely different lives.

Excerpt from: the Last Days of Jango Fett

Cody’s gaze sweeps over the exterior of the gym and he wonders if he's making a mistake. He spent a lot of his time, growing up, in gyms like this. The faded lettering of the sign declares the gym’s official name to be ‘Koon’s training gym’ but scrawled over that, in grey lettering, is its true name ‘Plo’s bro’s’ he bites his cheek, wondering at the identity of Plo. If he’ll find him inside, or if the sign serves as only a fond memorial. He crosses the threshold and he may as well have stepped back in time.

He can hear a familiar voice, barking orders, corrections. But his gaze skips straight over the set of strong shoulders, the back of a head so much like his own, and instead he only has eyes for the ring, because inside, there is a boy who for all appearances could be Cody’s own; who could even be Cody himself, had you a loose grip on temporal structure.

Boba is good, better than a boy of his age should be, clearly Jango’s been training him. He still wouldn’t have stood a minute in the ring with Cody at the same age, not that that’s any fair comparison; Cody could have beaten them all. They said he was born with a golden ticket in his mouth. A right hook to end all right hooks and with it, a way out. For them all.

Cody had spent all his teen years training in a gym like this, just down the road from Jaster’s, born ability or not, he wasn’t given an easy ride. Jaster’s old buddies rallied together for one last go and they gave it their all. Within the walls of that gym, they lived again, they gave it all they had to train Cody like it were 30 years previous and they still had a chance in hell of winning. For a moment, it seemed like they would.

Cody in the ring had been a sight to behold. He and he only, could retrieve their last chance, lost to anyone else because no-one knew where it fell. But Cody and Cody only, he would rise to the top and he would reach and he would hold it in his hands. Glory. Lost and abandoned, left to gather dust from the day it had fallen from Jango’s hands. Theirs, once again. Cody could have saved them all.

But. Cody couldn’t be that for them. He had the talent, sure. He had the drive to make it to the top, for certain. More than all of that, he had that magic, that thing you can’t quite put a word to, that made him a sight to behold in the ring. Like pure gold. But there was one thing Cody didn’t have, the wherewithal to be his Fathers keeper. Cody did not have it in him, to live his life for a man that did not want him. Glory in the ring; that was Jango’s dream, not his.

Born on a cool November, against the odds, Cody entered the world a healthy 9'5 with a healthy set of lungs to match. Jango did not know of this, Jango was not there.

Cody, healthy and round, had been placed in to the arms of a woman who had looked down upon her son and immediately known that she could never, quite, be what he needed and so she hadn’t tried to be.

Once when he was young, Cody had overheard Jaster speak of her. Only the once and not of the woman herself but of her, as Jaster put it, ‘sentimental bullshit’. Jaster was a strong believer in facing up to your problems and the woman who had given birth to Cody, did quite the opposite.

That woman had looked in to her babies eyes, and had delivered that baby, quite promptly, to Jaster’s doorstep. An undetermined amount of time later, Jaster had answered the door to find two bottles of milk and Cody, laying on the doormat.

Cody had been left quite alone, with nothing but a blanket, and a note; explaining that his mother, having looked in to her son’s eyes’, had immediately known that she could never contain quite the amount of love that her son would need and was therefore, leaving him to his Father, a man she was sure was more than capable. Jaster, who at this point was already responsible for two of Jango’s progeny, suspected otherwise; as he had told the milkman that day after he had kindly knocked and asked if Jaster was quite aware there was a baby sleeping on his doorstep.

That day, standing there speaking to Jaster as a baby laid between them, the milkman, in a moment of startling honesty, had looked down to the babe and told Jaster that upon the birth of his first son, he had worried that he wouldn’t be suited to fatherhood, but had since realised that all the little ones really needed; was loving. Jaster, not having slept through the night in about 2 years by that point, had bluntly retorted that love would not feed yet another mouth and so, he would be needing another bottle of milk, before sweeping down to gather the child to his chest, the note laying unneeded on the doorstep.

Cody had heard Jaster reason, through that crack in the kitchen door, that the last thing any child needed was a bit of paper telling them their parent didn’t have it in them to love them enough. Jaster had known, from that first glance at Cody, as all parents do, that upon finding that Cody needed more love, he might only ever meet such a thing with carving out just a bit more space in his heart or wherever else love is kept, to hold it.

To Jaster, parenthood was not about biology, it was simply about being needed and being the kind of person, that would change themselves however necessary, to meet that need.

That day in the kitchen, Jaster’s friend had shortly weighed him up to be a ‘soft fool’ who ‘only had it coming’ ‘what with all these doorstep babies’, but Jaster hadn’t seemed to mind. In the following years, Cody had rarely heard him talk like that again, but the sentiment lived on with him all the same, carried with him until he was old enough to understand what such a thing really meant.

Not that Jango ever stopped by to see it for himself, but everyone who met Cody declared him to be the spit of him. Cody was Jango’s second coming for sure, it didn’t matter that Jango was still walking the earth. Everyone who saw Cody in the ring was sure that he’d been delivered upon them to finish what Jango could not.

Cody often worried, that he wouldn’t quite weigh up in the eyes of Jaster, who had afterall, known Jango the best. Cody rather worried, that he instead, might take after his maternal side. The type to run from problems rather than face them. Because of this fear, Cody spent his whole life rising to each and every problem until one day, he did quite the opposite.

In the early hours of the day Cody’s big match was to be held; the one that was sure to shoot him right to the top, so high that his eyebrows would brush the stars and the rest of them, they’d all be able to fall on clouds; the big match that wasn’t just Cody’s ticket to a kinder life but everyone’s, his showstopper, Cody had found himself with a bag over his shoulder walking the track out of town.

When he reached the end of that track, where the old road met the big one, he’d found Jaster sat waiting for him.

Jaster had offered Cody a small smile and, told him he was beginning to worry that he wouldn’t come. Then, he had met his eyes and wished him luck. Jaster had said that he was proud of Cody, for having reached the same conclusion that Jaster himself had; Jaster knew that Cody was not put on this earth to right Jango’s wrongs, Cody was here, only to be Cody , and besides, he never had to worry about turning out to be the kind of person that Jaster might not like, because the thing about raising someone, is you keep loving them no matter who they might turn out to be.

Later that day, as one by one the fields passed him by, Cody had looked out the window of the coach and known with a surety that sometimes, the only way you can face your problems, is by leaving.

That day, Cody left the memory of Jango Fett behind, in search of a life where there was a bit of room to be Cody Mereel, and he had never once looked back.

Cody had left the memory of Jango behind, in the pursuit of himself, but now, here was Boba.

Boba had not left Jango behind as he hadn’t been given time to, Jango was only a ghost in Cody’s childhood but he was something more real to Boba. That is at least, until one day, when he was just gone.

For the first time, Cody looks behind himself and there, following, as he always has been, is the boy he left behind. Cody had to leave that boy in order to become the man he is today. he doesn’t regret it, he likes who he is, who he allowed himself to become, by leaving. But now he can see that in order to help Boba, he needs to be both the man who’s risen above the ghost of his father and also, the boy who could never quite live up to the memories his father left behind.

For the first time in his adult life, Cody remembers what it was to be the son of Jango Fett and then, against better reason, he holds on tight to that memory. When he looks back over his shoulder once again, there isn’t anyone there. That boy is looking forward as Cody looks forward and when he takes his next step, they take it as one. Cody is whole and he is his self, he is as he always has been, wholly and completely.

In the gym that is in every way, both the same and nothing like those of his childhood, Cody takes another step and then another, until his toes are almost touching the side of the ring.

Boba sees him first, just a glance and then, Cody sees the moment that his face registers. Boba just stops in space, he blinks wide eyes at the sight of him before tilting his head, letting those same eyes trace over Cody.

Now that he’s seen Jango Fett, Cody knows precisely why he might garner such a reaction, Cody didn’t have a dad so he has no idea what it is like to lose one. He can’t quite imagine what this must be like for Boba, it’s just you and your dad and then, he is murdered. Your dad dies and you are 10, and then, almost identical men start spilling out of the cracks of the city.

Boba has been distracted for long enough now that Wolffe has given up on trying to call his attention back, he turns to see what has the boy’s attention caught and soon comes up short himself.

Cody looks up at his big brother for the first time in 20 years and swallows.

“Hi Wolffe.” He says quietly.

Wolffe is frozen, even more so than Boba, not even his eyes move and now Cody looks at him, he isn’t sure if they can. One side of his brothers face is heavily scarred, like something long ago scraped across the surface, even from here Cody can see that the eye on that side is clouded.

His brother takes in a loud breath, “Cody?”

And then before Cody can even think to answer, Wolffe is moving, rolling out of the ring until he can engulf Cody in his arms.

Cody is the same size as Wolffe now but somehow it doesn’t feel like it, he feels dwarfed, finally back in his brothers arms and why did Cody ever think he could live without this? Wolffe’s arm is cradling his head and the other is bracing Cody’s back and he can feel his head tucked against Cody’s own and Cody has been alone for 20 years and he didn’t have to be, he knows this now, as well as he knows anything.

Cody doesn’t know what he expected. He doesn’t know what he expected from any of this. The past week has been a storm. An uncontrollable thing that you can only watch happen.

Had he thought maybe that upon seeing him, Wolffe might hit him?

Maybe that he would berate him for leaving?

Cody didn’t know who the adult his brother had grown in to really was. Maybe he had expected him to be cold, distant in the face of the brother that left them all? Cody had showed them all that it was possible to leave, that such a thing wasn’t only the purview of Jango and from what Rex had said that had left their family fractured. It had never been the same again after Cody left and showed everyone that they could leave. One by one, they had each followed him in to the unknown, lost to each other thanks to him.

Had he thought any of that, he would have been wrong. The man holding him isn’t any of that, he is just Wolffe, he is just Cody’s brother.

They are together, once again.

[rabiakhatun]

Australian Powerball Lottery Facts

Australian Powerball is a popular game in the Land Down Under. Many people frequent it because of the high cash prize that is usually at stake with every draw. Moreover, it is easy to play and there are no complicated rules to follow. Anyone who wants to participate in this game will only have to bet.

If you are unfamiliar with this, here are some facts about it and some simple rules you need to follow before you can start your betting:

Quick facts

This game is played in almost all parts of Australia. In the western part of the country, it is operated by the Lotterywest, while the Golden Casket is responsible for games in Queensland. In the Kingdom of Wales, the New South Wales Lotteries manage the games, and in the south of the country, the South Australia Lotteries Commission takes care of it. All of this allows you to play  파워볼사이트 anywhere in Australia.

The minimum cash prize you can take home is around AU$33 million. This is the initial payout for each draw and increases in subsequent draws if no one wins it on the first play. However, if someone has won for a particular game, the prize money will revert to that original amount in the next draw.

Rules of the game

So how do you play Australian Powerball? Again, these steps are simple and they are not complicated to understand, so read on.

First step: In a series of numbers from 1 to 45, you must choose five regular numbers.

Second step: In another set of 45 numbers, you must choose only one number. This will serve as your Powerball.

Third step: pay your bet. Remember that bets may increase over time, but it will always be at the lowest rate anyone can afford.

Winning this game is easy, and there are two ways to win it. The first is to match three of your regular numbers with the numbers that came up in the draw. The second is to match two of your regular numbers plus your Powerball with the numbers that came up in the final draw.

You can only win a game if you can present your ticket with the winning numbers. Remember that your ticket must be in perfect condition when you claim your prize. Crumpled tickets, as well as those that have been exposed to heat, will not be honored. Be careful not to damage your ticket.

The Lotto Powerball Question: Can You Really Win Powerball?

In life, there are no simple answers to even the most basic questions. Even if we try to pretend that it is possible to answer questions with a simple answer, we discover in the long run that there is nothing easy. So what is the answer to the question can you really win the Powerball?

The truthful answer to this question is that it really depends. Oh, I know how the lotto gurus sell you on the fact that it can only be won if you buy their system. But, that is simply not true. A lotto system alone cannot win you the jackpot. No, unfortunately it will take a combination of three things to crack this multi-million dollar nut.

Now don't get me wrong, a lotto system plays an important role in your winning success. However, on its own, it cannot guarantee a victory. To win, you need three specific techniques.

Luckily, in this article, we'll cover all three to increase your chances of winning by 100.

To win at the game, you need:

Number 1: A desire to focus only on Powerball and Powerball only. Too many people play two or three games of lotto in addition to playing Powerball. This strategy is a lesson in futility, focus and concentration is the key to winning the Powerball. By diversifying your seed capital into two or three different games, you never get to win the game you want to win in the first place. So focus all your money and effort on one game.

Number 2: You must play more than one set of numbers if you want to win this lotto game in your lifetime. My stepfather played the same numbers faithfully for over 20 years and still didn't come close to winning a hundred thousand let alone millions of dollars.

It's so frustrating to watch someone you love constantly play a losing strategy hoping to win only to fail every time the numbers are drawn. The worst part about this story is that he's so adamant and stubborn that he won't even consider changing his numbers. Don't let this tragedy be you!

Number 3: If you're going to earn a sum big of money in 파워볼, you need to invest in a system. Too many people play this game blindly with no chance of winning anything.

Now please pay attention because this is important: the power ball game can be won, it's been proven. In fact, I have a guy on my website who guarantees you'll win 9 out of 10 games you play by following his system.

[artmakerproductions]

Kid Wonka & Adult Ticket Winners AU

The premise of this version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is that the adults are the trouble makers (as they can be sh*tty too, just like kids) and being the absolute GENIUS I am, this AU was made. To quickly recap: Wonka is pretty much the same as his book counterpart, but w/ more childish tendencies, 

Augustus is a selfish adult who cheats his own kids out of their share of food, Violet is a highly entitled Karen stereotype w/ an annoying gum chewing habit, Mike is a grouchy boomer who constantly bad mouths Wonka’s ideas and inventions for “not making sense”, Veruca is a gold digger, a heavy drinker and partier who does nothing but spend spend spend and enjoys her privileged high class life, Charlie is a struggling Millennial w/ a crummy apartment and equally crummy day-job, currently lives w/ his parents and grandparents.Everybody got that? Yes? Good, on we go: 

Augustus Gloop: First up, Augustus Gloop. For him, I used Homer Simpson, Peter Griffin and Willie the Giant as inspiration. He’s selfish, greedy and doesn’t care for others. Only his own needs. Is rather stupid and pushy. Eats out nearly every other day in excess (he’s a cheapskate too). You’d think his kids would be equally as fat too, but no. His father gives them the bare minimum of every meal. He found the golden ticket in his kid’s stash of hidden candy in their rooms while they were at school. He abuses his parental power. Veruca Salt: Here, she is a gold digger. Always on the prowl for obtaining the easy life of luxury. Has had multiple husbands before. She is constantly throwing the wildest of parties, spending hundreds of dollars on: expensive clothes, hairdos, houses, cars, drinks, foods, vacations, everything. If she needs more money, she’ll just call her father up and sweet talk him till he gives in. For Veruca, I’ve decided that she goes out of her way to buy up every last Wonka bar (w/ her father’s money of course) from every store she can find to better her own chances at winning the golden ticket. Her reasoning being so she can go on the tour and attempt to woo him, (which is why she’s dressed the way she is) for his money and fame — only to be utterly disappointed when she finds out that the chocolate maker is but a child. Violet Beauregarde: For Violet, I figured that the best adult equivalent to her original character from the book was none other than the dreaded Karen. She is impatient, highly entitled to her opinion, loud and very obnoxious. She chews gum as an alternative to smoking. She got her ticket after making a fuss in a candy store (which her kids tried in vain to calm her down) and got the Wonka bar as compensation. As luck would have it, her kid found the golden ticket (but she claims later she was the one, but generously gave it to her kids out of the “goodness” of her heart). For this version of Violet, being the Karen she is here, she goes over the limit of family members allowed to be brought on the tour (she brings all three of her kids, again much to their dismay and embarrassment) believing that the great and marvellous Willy Wonka will make an exception just for her (which he begrudgingly does). A joke I just thought of is that in the inventing room, Wonka shows off a candy to act as an alternative to a vaccination shot (cause needles are scary) and for kids w/ anti-vaxxer parents (he doesn’t outright say this exactly, but it’s the general gist of it) and keep them healthy; a sort of alternate version of the everlasting gobstopper being made for children w/ little allowance money. Mike TeaVee: For Mike, since in all versions he and Wonka have this rivalry (mostly because he’s the 2nd longest lasting kid on the tour, so his character has time be developed) which boils down to “kids, don’t question adults”. The current equivalent of that are w/ boomers and millennials/gen Z-iers. So I took that and rolled w/ it. He constantly watches FOX news (like, a lot) always questions Wonka and pesters him throughout the tour. Asking things such as, “How does a kid know anything about running a business?” “If this was run by an adult, there wouldn’t be room for such childish nonsense going on here”, “This place makes no sense”, “You kids these days. Always screwing with what wasn’t broken. Why is everyone so desperate for change?” He’s the kind of fellah who laughs at “Women, am I right?” jokes and other offensive and outdated stuff. (Might as well go all the way and make him a bigot too). Here I’d think he’d watch nothing but FOX news, cooking shows and whatever else the older generation watches. He absolutely loathes new technology and the changing culture and ideologies of the modern era. He’s a total hypocrite and very political too (if you get what I mean). Charlie Bucket: Charlie is mostly the same, but all the responsibilities in his life at the moment (having a job, maintaining his health, balancing his social life, dealing w/ horrible customers at said work, remembering to eat, drink, sleep, etc.) have taken their toll on his spirit. He lives in a crummy apartment w/ his family and is barely able to pay the rent/bills on time. However, through thick and thin, he is at least grateful for what little he has and the company of his family. Unable to imagine a life w/o them. He wins the last golden ticket and goes to the factory on his own (his parents are unable to join him because of their own jobs and caring for his grandparents). He and Wonka grow an almost brotherly bond w/ each other as the tour progresses. Willy Wonka: Here, Wonka is an energetic, goofy and giddy little kid as he is always very eager to show off his newest creations to others (like a kid showing their parents a drawing they made). Like his adult counterpart, he’s a bit of a trickster and knows more than he’s letting on (but is still a kid both at heart and physically). In this storyline, the young Wonka inherited the factory from his father and has been running it for the last few months (or years, haven’t decided yet) since his death. Now, the purpose of the contest isn’t to find an heir. He wants to find someone to be a surrogate parental figure for him (along w/ helping him take care of the factory of course). I’m thinking of a similar situation from the 2005 film where Charlie declines at first because of how out of nowhere the announcement is. He later comes around to it after thinking it over (like in that film), and he and his family move in. His one condition is that he is not to be his parental figure, rather as a family member. - Veruca not interested in listening to Wonka, goes to get herself a squirrel in a semi-drunken state. They retaliate and chase after her. She loses her footing and falls down the garbage chute. - Wonka welcoming the ticket winners (all out of view except for Charlie) to the factory.   - Mike, still unconvinced by Wonka’s inventions, starts up the machine himself. To his surprise and horror, it does work. He gets broken down as a million pieces of pixels to get transported into the TV. - Augustus, having fallen into the chocolate river, gets stuck in the opening of the pipe as he simply is too big. Wonka informs the Oompa Loompas that the suction needs to get cranked up all the way in order to get him out. - The obnoxious and stubborn gum chewing Violet, having been turned into a blueberry, cusses out Wonka that he’ll hear from her lawyers and sue him for everything he has as she is rolled away by the Oompa Loompas to be juiced. ———— The whole irony here is that it’s the kids who are telling the adults to listen to Wonka, but they choose not too because they are the “grown ups” and can do what they want. After each “accident”, the other children are escorted by the Oompa Loompas elsewhere to meet their parents afterwards. 

[sovieshu-simp]

What If #7

The Remarried Empress but it's Idol AU

Idols: Sovieshu, Heinrey, ( others you can add )

Assistants: Baron Lante, McKenna, ( others you can add )

Bodyguards: Kosair, Grand Duke Kaufman, ( others you can add )

Fangirls/boys: Navier, Rashta, Lebetti, and other Lady-in-waiting ( Idk names cuz I forgot but let's say they are her friends ) Duke Ergi. ( others you can add )

[ None of them are reincarnated, only OOC. ]

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Navier and Rashta was invited to go concert they have given tickets by her Friends. After they took a VIP seat where they are very close to concert stage, concert started, the first idol came out then others then Heinrey. Rashta's Friends Started fangirling on Idol Heinrey. The final person Came out is Sovieshu but his gaze focused on Navier then looked at audience and started sing with other idols. Navier was now fallen for Sovieshu. She likes his song. She likes his appearance. She likes his personality. She wants him but can't. Idol and fangirl can never be together. She is really hopeless for him. She would do anything for himhim and in return is his love and care or to become her husband.

Idol Heinrey saw Blonde woman only focus on Sovieshu. He went up to Sovieshu and played along and trying to win her fangirl but what he saw was Navier giving displeased look. Heinrey gave finger hearts to Navier, her friends starts fangirling but Navier ignored him and when she see Sovieshu finally gave Smile and Finger heart to her and went back to stage and show audience. Navier was fangirling on Sovieshu, leaving heinrey shocked and speechless.

*After Le Concert*

Navier and her friends are sent to cafeteria for rest.

(F/n) : So Navi, who is your Bias?

Navier: huh? My bias?

(F/n): Yeah your bias, what I mean is your favorite idol?

Navier: well, then it's Sovieshu.

Rashta: *Sly mode* then tell me what and why do you like him? Hmm?

Navier: *blushes* w-w-wHat? T-then what about yours?!

Rashta got Backfired but still enjoys having conversation with them.

*In the Le Waiting Room behind the concert*

Heinrey: Yo! Sovi! Did you noticed there was one fangirl who was only eye on you for longer?

Sovieshu: Really?

Heinrey: Yes and I tried used my charming on her but didn't worked out. Tell me why is like that?

Sovieshu: it's normal for every fangirl/boy can focused on each idol as they wished.

Heinrey: ...

Sovieshu: ...

Heinrey: Nerd.

Sovieshu: Doofus.

They bicker like dumbass Best Friends. But Sovieshu has found new crush who is fangirl (Navier) wished to get know more about her. He hopefully to meet her again.

--------------------------------------

Idol Heinrey's animal symbol: Golden Dog

Idol Sovieshu's animal symbol: Black Cat

(F/n) - Friend's name

[whoacanada]

‘Wishful Thinking‘

Summary: Every NHL champion gets a single brush with ice magic. When Jack takes his first cup with the Falconers, he accidentally undoes the wish that brought him back from the brink of death in 2009, and Bitty becomes hell-bent on lifting the cup himself for a chance to set things right.

A/N: Finally posting some concepts I’ve played around with that aren’t 100% complete massive fics, but still pretty solid, just little things that might be enjoyed. Yet another cup-wish-gone-wrong-au with monkey-paw components. Also inspired by discord convos about canon!Jack meeting an older, veteran NHL!Bitty and having a lot of feelings. Also mentor/father-in-law!Bob trying to help Bitty navigate the NHL. There’s more to this floating around but this is the meat of it

____________

____________

Bob can sense when it happens. A shift of something monumental that he’s only felt on a handful of occasions his entire life. A quick glance across the ice finds a number of the celebrating Falconers looking around curiously, unsure of the sensation; for so many, it’s their first brush with ice magic. A pleasant novelty. The vets, though, they look to each other.

Bob turns and doesn’t have to look far to find his son, one hand clasped around the cup, the other around Eric Bittle’s waist, smiling from ear to ear. Something about the moment is wrong, but Bob can’t quite determine why as he’s overcome with a wave of nausea. The stadium lights are too bright and he blinks hard, face scrunching, trying to force whatever wrongness he’s feeling out of himself.

Someone’s made a wish.

The moment passes. Bob’s vision clears. There, veiled in a shower of blue and gold confetti, is Eric; alone at center ice, face twisted in confusion as he looks around for the man who only moments earlier had been in his arms.

“You take the cup, you get one real wish,” the decades old, bourbon-lacquered voice of his first coach reminds him. “But only the one. Can be something small, like an empty cab in the rain, or it can be something big. World changing, even. The one thing, the most important thing — ”

“No,” Bob breathes. “Please, no.”

“— You never use your wish on another player.”

____________

____________

____________

They don’t know exactly what Jack wished for, but the next time Bitty’s blades touch the ice, it’s as if he’s stepped into the body of a new man. No more slurs. No more targeted chirps. He’s just one of the boys.

He plays. He wins. Then, the offers start to come.

NHL teams looking for fast wingers, team players, leadership material; not one of them mentions diversity, or Eric’s status as the first out NCAA hockey captain. No one cares. No one remembers Jack, and no one cares about Eric.

The best and worst case scenarios rolled into one. If this is the reality Jack unknowingly traded his existence for, Bitty has no choice but to walk through the door his partner opened.

Bitty swallows, trying to force the words out on one of his now nightly calls with the man who would have been his father-in-law in another world, if the shared connection between them hadn’t been interred in a Montréal cemetery almost a decade prior.

“I think . . . I think he wished for acceptance.”

___________

___________

___________

“No one remembers anymore.”

Eric scuffs his skate against this ice, building up a small pile of shavings before scattering them again, focusing on the soft white as if somehow he’ll be able to transport himself bodily to somewhere cool and quiet. Jackson Hole. Banff. Tremblant. Anywhere but here. Anywhen but now.

“Saw Tater last week at a press junket. Blank stares all around. Some days, most days, I wake up and I don’t know how I got here. I can go without thinking of him.”

Weeks. Eric doesn’t say aloud. Months. Those hideous mornings when he wakes up beside a warm body and forgets they aren’t him. They aren’t supposed to be him. Was there ever even a him.

Jack. Eric mouths silently, just to remind himself. His name is Jack.

The details always slip. The universe constantly trying to correct the fallacy of Eric Bittle remembering a man who died before they technically ever met. Faded photographs and corrupted memory cards. Selfies that used to have two people in frame. Vlog posts with cosmic ADR, swapping Jack’s name for someone else’s like a hastily rewritten script. Eventually, even Eric’s memories turn traitor. First times lost to reshoots and post-production magic. Blue eyes are brown. Black hair is blonde. Jack becomes Phillip. Eric’s first love recast. In desperation, he pulls a page from Memento, finds a tattoo parlor and has ‘Jack Laurent Zimmermann’ inked in dark, unmistakable letters on his inner thigh. Adds a cup, the Falconers’ crest, and the date they lost everything. It works well enough until the name fades; there are still days where a hook up will ask why Eric has a championship tattoo for a team he never played with.

Now, all he has is Bob.

“That’s why I’m here.” Bob reminds. “That’s why we talk.”

“But what happens if we don’t.”

Bob’s familiar assurances rumble through the phone. Constant. Refusing to acknowledge the harsh realities of the passing of time. The ever-present doomsday clock moving them both toward disaster — Bob aging, Eric aging out. He’s good, but he isn’t great, and the only offers coming his way are single-season contracts with teams that haven’t sniffed a championship in years. One day very soon, there will be no more chances for Eric to undo what’s been done. No more favors to ask of teammates that have long since forgotten a world where Jack Zimmermann was a college graduate and a rookie MVP. Not just an addict. Not just dead at nineteen.

Eric listens to Bob ramble, asks him to tell him a story, to tell him about the Jack that Eric never really got to know. The Jack he can barely remember. A man that Eric has dedicated his entire life to honoring, to bringing back — from where he cannot fathom — and Bob obliges in a soft tone Eric imagines is not dissimilar from how he must have spoken to his son as a child.

Eric ignores his teammates rushing around him — tossing chirps and gentle insults about his ‘Sugar Daddy’ — and focuses on the accented voice in his ear; grasping desperately at the memory of a man who doesn’t exist. Pretending. Hoping.

__________

__________

Across the ice, Eric sees Kent Parson watching him. When they lock eyes, the aging star glides toward him, under a guise of one amicable captain greeting another. He’s pushing 37, and while the years of competitive play are starting to show, he’s just as viciously handsome as the day they first met. At least, Eric thinks he is. He can’t imagine a life where Kent Parson strolled onto a college campus and played beer pong at a frat party, but there’s a folder of old photos on Eric’s computer. Jack is in none of them, but there’s one of himself and Kent. Smiling.

Eric can’t recall why the image bothers him so much.

Parson used his wish years ago on something that he’s never bothered to share — and Eric’s far too much a gentleman to ask a man who was once a rival what he wasted his golden ticket on — but now, he’s slowing down, and this is supposed to be his farewell season. Going out with a bang, riding the high of his fifth cup win. He’s worked hard, and he deserves to shove the Penguins back down into obscurity for another season. Deserves it far more than Eric, with his selfish, single-mindedness that’s ruined god knows how many careers in the last decade between his own ruthlessness and Bob’s meddling.

Except. . . this is also likely Eric’s last season. His last chance to undo the great tragedy of his life, and Parson knows it.

“How you feeling, Peaches? You ready?”

Eric hates the nickname in the same way he hates when his father calls him ‘Champ’.

Eric fights his own shame because he wants to be honest, say, ‘No, I’m not ready, I’ll never be ready,’ but Eric can’t ask for what he wants, anymore. He wants the Aces to balk on a power play. He wants Parson to flub a pass and throw the game —  he even knows the man would probably do it, too — but Eric needs to come by a win honestly. They learned the hard way in 2022 when Eric hands were wrapped around the cup, wishing, praying, crying, pleading . . .

Clear eyes, full hearts, or some such bullshit.

Cheaters don’t get wishes.

“I can’t remember, anymore,” Eric admits as they square up across the face-off circle, the resigned terror of an inescapable end creeping upon him like the burn of an old injury ignored for far too long. “Kent. Please.” Parson leans down, rests his stick against the ice, and holds Eric’s gaze as if to say, I’m here. Trust me. Just play.

The puck drops.

________

________

________

There’s someone watching him, young, handsome with dark hair and the kind of bright blue eyes that scream ‘notice me’ with all of the biological bluntness of neon plumage and a mating dance. The man weaves through the crowd, unnoticed by Eric’s teammates, and comes close enough that Eric can’t help but assume familiarity. He must be a fan, the way he’s flushed and excitable.

Eric’s drunk enough on the moment that he’s happy to indulge his baser instincts. He also literally can’t remember the last time he brought company home and if there’s ever been a night to get laid, it’s this one.

“Crisse, look at you, Bits.”

The man is caught between being awestruck and simply struck, reaching out to touch Eric’s arm but not quite making contact, like his depth perception is the tiniest bit off. He drops Eric’s old nickname so easily, so earnestly, that for a moment Eric thinks they might already know each other — but that’s impossible. Eric would remember someone so handsome, so very much his type.

“Only my friends call me ‘Bitty’.” Eric cautions, raising his half-empty champagne bottle in a mock toast and flashing his best ‘you’re coming home with me tonight’ smile. “But I’m more than happy to to get acquainted with you, Sugar.”

Eric isn’t usually this forward, this unrestrained. Tonight, it doesn’t matter, he’s celebrating: another championship, the end of a career, a life well lived. It’s to be expected. What isn’t expected is how the man’s relieved smile falters; as if Eric’s unbridled joy is somehow misplaced.

“Bitty? It’s me.”

“And ‘me’ is called . . . ?”

On very few occasions in Eric’s life has he been able to witness true devastation first-hand; and those instances were related to deaths, hockey losses, or blackout morning afters.

“Jack.” The man says softly, face slack with surprise. “It’s. . . Jack. Bitty, you know me.”

“If we’ve met before, I’m sorry,” Eric apologizes, hating to see the kid look so defeated. “I meet so many people — ”

Over Jack’s shoulder, Eric catches sight of Bob Zimmermann and waves, delighting in the way Bob’s face lights up when he catches sight of Eric, practically going supernova when he notices Jack as well, crossing the ice like a man possessed; Bob moves to pull them both into a hug but Eric’s new friend holds up a defensive hand and Bob stops mid-gesture.

It’s extremely apparent something is off, and between the reporters, the confetti, the champagne, and the fans, Eric is missing all of the context clues.

“Just won my last cup,” Eric singsongs, gesturing with the bottle between his mentor and the man Eric would very much like to fuck — who look very similar now that Eric can see them side by side. “Everyone’s super excited, right? Yeah? So, what’s going on. Did someone die?”

“No.” Bob says quickly, eyes flicking between Jack and Eric warily. “No. Not . . . that.”

“Severely injured?”

“. . . Non.”

“Okay, then, we should be celebrating!” Eric throws his arms wide and nearly clocks a passing teammate. “No more party pooping, Bobbert. Speaking, this is my new friend, Jack. Jack, Bob, Bob, Jack. Though, I’m getting the feeling you two might know each other. Or might be . . . related.” Eric gasps and smacks his free palm against his forehead. “Oh my god, the Tremblant retreat? Is that where I know you from? Listen, I was fucked up on pain meds that whole weekend, I am so sorry if we’ve already met.”

Despite Eric’s continued attempts at clarifying their shared mystery past, Jack keeps looking at Bob with that same wounded expression and it’s really killing Eric’s buzz.

“Bob.” Eric redirects. “Help me, here. Cutie’s nervous.”

“Eric, this is my, ah, well,” Bob’s smile is so forced, so tense, it looks more like a grimace. “Well, this is my son, Jack.”

There is only one ‘Jack’ Eric has ever known in relation to Bob Zimmermann, and he is not someone to be mentioned in polite conversation.

“Your son?” Eric echoes slowly. “Your son, Jack.”

Bob realizes what Eric’s tiptoeing around and casts a furtive glance toward the younger man, lifting two fingers to his cheek conspiratorially to imply ‘it’s a long story, not meant for public ears’. Eric knows how to play along.

“Wow, okay, did not expect that, but now that you’re saying it, I can one-hundred-percent tell. You have the same, well, everything.”

Eric takes Jack’s hand for an obligatory shake, not missing the way Jack’s features twist up into something caught between flattery and misery, before staring down his pseudo-mentor.

“My question is this, where have you’ve been hiding him — because how long have I know you, Bobby? Shame.”

“I’ve been . . . away.”

Jack’s tone is weighted with context Eric absolutely does not possess, but can definitely read into. Given the age difference and Alicia’s conspicuous lack of attendance this evening, Jack’s definitely a love child from some 90s Zimmergroupie. Or, original Jack didn’t actually OD and Bob spirited away his kid to keep away the prying eyes of the public; but that wouldn’t explain the age difference or the shared name.

Oh, Bobbert.

“Couldn’t wheel him out too soon,” Bob jokes, but Eric can tell the man’s heart isn’t in it, reinforcing Eric’s suspicion.

“Well, I’m happy you did,” Eric says graciously, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “He’s very handsome, when he isn’t doing this Eeyore impression.”

“Just like his father,” Bob says reflexively —  defensively —  as Jack goes pink. “Eric, will you excuse us for a moment? Back in five minutes, tops.”

Eric offers a gracious wave, gaze lingering on Jack’s retreating back — and backside, bless — watching Bob rest a firm hand on his son’s neck, gripping tightly to lean in and furiously whisper something. As Eric watches, Jack looks back over his shoulder; it’s not the fond glance of a potential paramour. Regret, maybe? Grief, definitely.

He must be as disappointed to be cock-blocked by his father as Eric is.

Across the ice, Kent Parson has rushed Jack, gathering him into a crushing embrace that the younger man returns easily —  burying his face against Parson’s pads; pulling back only when Parson grabs Jack’s shoulders to push him away, taking a long look at him, holding his face between his hands briefly before pulling Jack back into his arms.

They don’t just look like old friends, it’s a reunion of desperation, like the videos his mother sends of soldiers coming home from war, but before Eric can think better of it, a teammate fists a hand in the collar of Eric’s sweater and pulls — away from Bob’s forlorn love child and forgotten first meetings — and the night goes on.  

Bob doesn’t return. Neither does Jack.

Eric doesn’t even notice.

__________

__________

[groovyzombiellama]

The Golden/Stylish Trio

Title: The Golden/Stylish Trio

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You are an actress and shoot a project with Alex and Bill and the two of them have a crush on you.

Word count: 1617

—***—

Ever since you were a child, you knew that you wanted to be an actress, and it didn’t matter how many people told you that you shouldn’t dream so high and that you were gonna fail, that just made you want to work more just to prove them wrong. You were constantly told that you wouldn’t have enough work, and that being an actress is stressful and difficult. Of course you knew that, in their own way every job is difficult, but you didn’t mind it because you knew that you would have difficult moments, but you were ready for whatever that world had to throw at you, because at least  that way, you would be doing something you love. You had the support of your immediate family, like your parents in the first place, and so you decided to take a chance and start your path towards making your dreams come true.

At first you had it quite difficult, not really being what the casting agent was looking for, both in terms of character and in your lack of experience. You had sleepless nights thinking about how you were supposed to gather experience when nobody wanted to give you a chance to gain any of it. And you expected this, so it wasn’t a surprise to you, and it just motivated you to do better and go to some classes and stuff, but that doesn’t mean getting rejected so many times didn’t hurt you. There were times where you would feel like the people who told you that you wouldn’t be able to make it were right and that you should just give up and go back home. Your family was alright with you coming back and going to college for something else, but just like your friends, they believed that you could do it and that every beginning is hard, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t succeed. And indeed, with patience, it started happening, you started getting cast.

Of course, you wouldn’t be able to get a lead role right off the bat, but you were getting work as eather a background character, or a very minor character that maybe had one or two lines. And even though it was something small and didn’t mean a lot of camera time, you were still extatic and extremly grateful and happy to even be getting any work at all. Your portfolio was growing, your list of work experience was becoming longer and longer, and a lot of casting agents saw your passion and dedication to acting, to the point where you even got cast as a supporting character in a movie, the so called “best friend trope”, and your lines consisted of pep talks and you were honestly just there to lift up the lead character. But it was the longest time you had spent in front of the camera so far and the most speaking lines you had gotten, so to say you were grateful and excited would be understatements.

You had no idea where all of this was gonna take you, but you were so proud of yourself for not giving up on your dreams. You even sent tickets for that movie to your cousins who didn’t believe you could make it and some of the people who bullied you and said you would never amount to nothing. It wasn’t to spite them, not too much anyway, because you never were a person to hold a grudge or feel good if others are feeling down. You just wanted to tell them that hard work will always pay off and that hard work can beat talent if talent doesn’t work hard. You were getting recognized and it was blowing your mind to be walking down the street and hear people talking about you as you pass them, guessing if you were the girl they had seen in that movie. And it made you smile every time. Eventually you ended up getting an e-mail that changed your life in a drastic way. A huge gig, bigger than any you have had before, with actors that you admired.

You had known Bill Skarsgård from his role as Roman Godfrey in Hemlock Groove, and as the iconic clown, Pennywise, in the most recent IT movies. And when your agent told you that he was gonna be one of your costars, you had to sit down, as your legs felt like they were gonna give out. He always seemed like a truly pleasant person to be around and an actor who really cares about the craft. And his good looks were just a bonus to a very amazing person. And that was the case for your other costar who once again gave you that feeling that you were gonna collapse if you keep standing. The Ivar the Boneless from Vikings, Victor from Outsiders, Alex Høgh Andersen. Alex always had the appeal as a literal ray of sunshine to you and it made your head feel dizzy to be working with them at all, and even when you met them, you couldn’t believe it was true.

Both Bill and Alex found you adorable as you tried not to fangirl around them, and be your cool self, or at least what you thought was cool. Bill had known about you as he had watched one of the movies you were in and he admired the way you put everything you had into your character, so he already knew some things about you, but even with that, you had managed to amaze him beyong belief. To Alex. meeting you was completely new territory, but he was enjoying every second of it, seeing the way every part of you contained the character you were supposed to potray. Even your eyes would show the emotion your character was supposed to be feeling that both men were dangerously close to apologising to you the moment they looked into your eyes as you were filming a scene where you were supposed to have a disagreement or fight.

Both Alex and Bill felt like they were learning a lot from you, as much as you were learning from them. And your vibrant personality, combined with that smile of yours were enough for them to develp crushes on you. It amazed them that neither one of them was able to say anything to you, that when it came to you, they would feel nervous or get tongue tied. When the two of them were talking and you came up, the shock on both of their faces, wide eyed expressions were almost comical as they realised the second they started talking about you that they had crushes on you. They didn’t want to make this a rivalry between them and try to win you over from one or the other. They were gonna leave the choice to you if you ever developped feelings for one of them and the other was gonna support you both. But that didn’t stop them from admiring you constantly and gushing about you in interviews and to each other.

As more time passed, the more the three of you started getting closer, so much so that they put up with the silly nicknames that you gave them and even though Billy and Lexie weren’t their favorite, and they honestly prefered some of your more creative nicknames, or standard “love” or “hun” that you loved calling people who were important to you, they cared about you enough to accept you just the way you were, which meant the world to you. Bill’s brother Gustaf was really glad that his costar from Vikings was friends with his brother, because the cast of the show had become like his second family in a way, and now you were a very dear friend to all of them.

Every interview that you did with these boys was a blast, you would always have fun and if they even sensed that you were feeling uncomfortable with a question or something, the both of them would create a diversion, as you woke up in them the feeling to be protective over you, but not too much that you feel suffocated, but just enough for people to know that you were not someone to mess with, both because of you being a strong and independent woman, and also because you had the two of them who had your back as much you had theirs. You three were truly a great trio, and your friendship was one that you were sure was for the books and that it was gonna last.

Regardless of the fact that their crushes were growing by the day and often times they had to stop themselves from spending entire interviews talking about you, they never forced you into anything, or tried to convince you that one of them was better for you than the other. And their biggest pet peeve was when you didn’t believe in yourself and always claimed that “people were just too kind to you” whenever someone complimented you, because they just wanted you to know that to them you were absolutely amazing and to so many people who were fans of you. But they appreciated that you were kinda using that to keep your humble nature, worried that if you started giving yourself that much credit, you would become vain and too self absorbed. They were thankful that they met you and hoped your friendship lasted a long time, even if nothing more developped from it. You were the Golden Trio, named by the entertainement industry, or the Stylish Trio as fans started calling you after Alex’s post, and you were happy with it.

---***---

SURPRISE @walkxthexmoon !! You wanted either one of aus that I do, but you were always sweet to me and kind, that you get all of it, written, gif and social media au :D <3 I truly hope you like it :)

I appreciate all of you guys and thank you all for your follows, likes, reblogs, I’ll never be able to thank you all enough. Every time I get an e-mail telling me someone followed me, it makes my entire week better and keeps me motivated! So thank you to all of you, I love you all so much, and if people are nice to me I do my damnest to be 10x nicer, because you deserve it back, so this fic took a lot longer to make than I thought, and hopefully it’s a good one and you guys like it, and just once again, I appreaciate all of you <3

[encrypted-cryptid]

Au where uhhhj. sauces in candyland <3

apologies if you meant a specific media candyland but my first thought was willy wonka so. yknow i guess that's what we're doing here

1. box is the one who owns the factory and is looking for a successor!! instead of the gold tickets being in chocolate bars, they're in little packets of shortbreads shaped like foxes (mimicking the shortbread shaped like scotty dogs :])

2. robop acts as the factories helpers, lots of tiny robots running around to keep the place running!! less music and more good natured heckling from them toward visitors

3. 10 gets stuck in the tv room and gets turned into pixels. tiny idiot (he gets better dw)

4. echo, seam and rosemary all 'lose' to slightly different versions to the original. seam is kicked out because they think it stole the special gum but it's already just blue and didn't actually steal anything. echo falls in the chocolate river because 10 pushed them in. rosemary was adopted by the golden geese because they like her a lot

5. ii think the fun thing here is if both dec and rassel 'win'. gee box why does the au let you have two successors ? it's because they're both actually good people (who stole fizzy lifting drink but shh)

6. at the end the whole place still falls into the void, inexplicably

[ghost-flakes]

liminal

summary: you decide to sign up for what you think is a date night auction for some spare cash.

pairing: kurogiri/reader

word count: 2,665

notes:  AU, no specific setting. not beta read and different than how I’m used to writing. hope you enjoy!

★ written for the Citrus Dome Collab - check out other entries here!

★ also posted on AO3!

warnings: mentions of sensory overload (not related to bedroom activities), intimacy, no smut. 

The stage lights were blinding and hot. They seared into your skin and made the edges of your vision fuzzy.

You felt like the very act of existing was generating sweat and you prayed that your makeup would hold.

Not that you really wanted to be in this situation, now that the reality of it was setting in, but it was a matter of principle. 

You were looking for some extra cash on the side and a friend of a friend had mentioned an auction night that was coming up that paid handsomely. You had thought that it was a date night type of auction, but once you saw the auction location (a revamped warehouse), you weren’t so sure. 

You miiight have glossed over the details the event organizer had told you about in favor of speculating about where, how, and why he chose to go around in a purple suit. But somehow, he made it work?

Before you knew it, you had found yourself trussed up in sparse but elegant clothing, just this side of revealing. A hint of skin here and there, enough to catch the eye but not so much to compromise your modesty. (However much you had left at this point, anyway.)

You tried not to think too hard about how efficiently you and the other participants had been prepped, but trepidation clung to the edge of your senses like stubborn cobwebs.

As the auctioneer introduced you, you let your gaze travel across the room, taking in your potential companions for the night. They were a strange assortment.

The mildest seemed to look like salarymen - one man with a very long, pointed nose that was oddly familiar. A man wearing an accordion mask, whom you guessed must have had some sort of yakuza ties, as he was flanked by three others and the whole group was given just a little extra space. A couple of other masked men (seemed like there was a theme tonight), a lizard man, a stapled patchwork man. 

A rainbow of hair colors scattered far and wide.

Golden wisps streaked across the back of the room before your attention was stolen by a couple of women who were sharply dressed and no less intimidating than any of the men. 

The room’s overall vibe was barely restrained anticipation, but underneath that was a strong warning: fuck around and find out.

Oh boy, did you not want to find out. 

If their quirks were half as exotic as their looks, you’d be torn to bits in minutes. What a morbid thought for what should have been a lighthearted, wallet-fattening evening.

Sure, the house took a hefty cut, but the hope was that the winning bid would be high enough to make it worth it.

Depending on how this turned out, you’d either start buying lotto tickets weekly or swear off gambling for life.

You saw the auctioneer gesture toward you with a flourish of his hand. Showtime!

You smiled demurely and ducked your head coyly in an attempt to hide your expression. Paired with a measured bow, hands in front, held for just a little bit longer - you felt the air in the room shift as you put yourself in the care of the audience. 

The display of vulnerability was like blood to sharks. The room exploded into action, with a near constant fwip of rustling material as guests raised their paddles to bid and the auctioneer egging them on further.

You quickly became dizzy from the thought that so many people would be bidding for your time. The room suddenly felt far too small for the amount of activity going on, and you could only wait for the final bid to land.

The room was getting louder as the bidding became more heated. You heard the clatter of a chair as someone scrambled on top of a table as if it would help them bid harder. Other patrons cried out in protest, only to be quickly put in place by a sharp reprimand from the auctioneer.

This didn’t do much to keep the room from steadily approaching a fever pitch. 

The higher the numbers, the more pressure you felt.

You were still stuck in place, sweltering under the stage lights, praying that the highest bidder at least had a kind heart so you didn’t have to spend your earnings on therapy. Or a hospital visit.

It was slowly dawning on you that the crowd seemed more than a lil’ shady but it was far too late to back out now.

The auctioneer’s voice got louder as the bid got higher. Everything was moving too fast and you stopped actively listening in order to try not to get overwhelmed. 

You heard what sounded like the bang of a gavel against a podium (how absurd, this wasn’t a courthouse), before a disgruntled hush fell across the room. Looks like bidding was over. You saw the man who had climbed onto the table drop to an unhappy squat as he tossed his paddle on the floor in disgust. You would have laughed if you weren’t afraid.

You turned toward the auctioneer and watched his face as he spoke. You only caught part of his sentence  “-- come up and collect your date for the evening, you lucky man.”

You saw someone cross the room, followed by glares from the rest of the patrons. As he got closer, you could see that he seemed to be made of fog. Or was it mist? Either way, it was a rich purple, constantly ebbing and flowing to an unknown rhythm. 

He stopped at a polite distance and introduced himself, his voice calm and low. He already knew your name, thanks to the auctioneer.

He offered his hand to you and waited. You hesitantly approached, and placed your hand in his. It felt cool, but broad and firmer than you expected. You couldn’t place the texture - something between velvet and mist.

While you were mulling over the feeling of your hand in his, he opened a warp gate and guided you both through it.

What a way to reveal a quirk.

On the other side was the inside of a small house - traditionally built but with some modern accoutrements and a little worn around the edges - but most importantly, quiet.

It was a wonderful reprieve after the cacophony of the auction.

You both shucked off your shoes before entering the living room, where he guided you to sit at a low table. A teapot and cups were already waiting for you.

You watched curiously as he served you before himself, unsure what to make of any of it.

The auction, the man, the house, the tea. The sheer amount of money he had spent on a night with you. You could easily be set for a couple of years with how much he had shelled out, and yet here he was, hosting you with patience and care. 

You still had no idea what he wanted from you.

The steam from the tea lazily floated into the air. Kurogiri’s mist undulated at a different pace - a little faster - the plumes of his fog curling into each other at the edges, like small whirlpools. 

Was he nervous?

You looked at his eyes, and saw that he had been watching you just as intently.

Somehow, the connection was comfortable. It was rare to find someone you could sit in silence with without needing to fill the space.

You watched him curiously as you sipped your tea, waiting to see what would happen next.

He excused himself for a moment and left the room. Even the sound of the shoji door sliding shut sounded gentle.

You let yourself sink into the peace of the room while you waited.

Whatever would happen, would happen, but you could try to get some enjoyment out of it. Your practicality combined with your bouts of recklessness certainly landed you in some odd situations. Your good fortune let you slide out of potentially nasty situations just as easily as you got into them and you were sure someone out there was watching over you.

Some time later Kurogiri returned to the room and walked around the table to your side. He extended a hand to you again. You unfolded yourself from your sitting position and accepted his aid.

He led you out of the sitting room, down a short hall and to another room. You could smell moisture in the air as you approached, but couldn’t see past Kurogiri’s frame.

Once you got to the room, he stepped out of the way and gestured for you to enter.

You did so, and once you had crossed the threshold of the room, you heard the door close behind you.

You looked over the shoulder just to reassure yourself that the door was closed, before looking around at the rest of the room.

OK, there was a sink and a toilet, no surprises there. 

You moved into the adjoining room to discover a shower, accompanied by a large bathtub, filled with warm water and beckoning to you. There was a light fragrance wafting through the air, something earthy yet soothing.

There was a fluffy bathrobe laid out to the side.

Alright, you got the hint.

You disrobed and quickly showered, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent soaking in the tub. Once you settled in the tub, you felt your muscles warming up and all tension (and reason) escaping. You leaned against the back of the tub and let your eyes flutter shut.

You thought you heard Kurogiri enter and exit at some point (his passing only revealed by the sound of the opening and closing of the doors) but you couldn’t be bothered to look.

When you finally deigned to open your eyes, you noticed that your clothes were gone. Was he really going to wash them for you? Man, this guy’s hosting skills were above and beyond.

By now, the water had cooled off, so you slowly rose out of the tub, as if wishing could warm up the water. The tub had been the perfect size - no need for bathtub gymnastics or body parts sticking up out of the water like mountain tops, laid bare and chilled by the wind.

You reluctantly left the tub and dried yourself off before wrapping yourself in the bathrobe, which was the softest thing you had felt in your life. Would it be a faux pas to ask him where he had gotten it?

You saw that slippers had been left out for you and ignored them. You preferred to feel the polished wood of the floor underneath your feet.

You made your way out of the bathroom, and wandered out into the hall. Before you could venture too far out, Kurogiri approached from the opposite end. The streaks of his eyes were curved up a little. Was this his version of a smile? Combined with his vest, tie, and neck brace being gone, it made him look surprisingly vulnerable.

You got the impression that this was a rare sight and were both flattered and honored.

As he led you to yet another room, you noticed that you could feel no dust or debris underneath your feet. He or whoever had cleaned the house had done an impeccable job. The amount of attention that went into the care of the house and the graciousness that had been shown to you during your stay made something in your chest stir. Sure, this was an extremely odd situation to be in, but not a bad one, so far.

He stopped in front of another shoji door and slid it open carefully. You felt as if this would be your final destination for the night. Kurogiri bowed his head and then gestured for you to enter first. You beamed at him and then stepped into the room, wiggling your toes against the tatami. You heard him close the door before feeling his presence behind you.

A quick look across the room revealed an austere bedroom. A bed, comfortable and low to the ground, a couple of lamps, your clothes neatly folded and resting by the side of the bed. Somehow, seeing them there made you feel reassured.

“You may change if you like.” 

You turned around and looked up at him as you thought about what you’d like to do.

“I’m okay like this.”

He nodded, and you suddenly felt shy. Was it bold to stay in a bathrobe? Somehow, you didn’t want to change into your clothing - it felt like things would suddenly become more formal and distant.

He moved toward the bed and waited. You realized he was waiting for you to get in first. Your stomach clenched as you felt a bolt of fear pass through you and you took a slow breath in to steady yourself. 

You climbed into the bed and moved towards the center at the side farthest from the headboard to give Kurogiri room to maneuver and knelt. You watched him climb into the bed. The sight of him looming over you for a brief moment changed the fear at the bottom of your stomach into something else.

Kurogiri reclined against the headboard and patted the bed next to him. You noticed that the cuffs of his shirt were unbuttoned. His shirt was still buttoned up all the way.

You crawled up the bed toward him, careful not to let the bathrobe slip and reveal anything, and gingerly settled down next to him. You tentatively leaned against him, and he wrapped the arm closest to you around your shoulder. You settled in closer to him and your head ended up in the crook of his neck. The casual intimacy made your heart race.

You looked at the curve of his neck, watching his mist slowly form and rise up into the air before seeming to disappear. Could you disappear into him if you got too close? But no, that was a silly thought. His body, though lacking clearly defined edges, was definitely solid beneath and around you. He was both warmer than you expected and slightly cooler than you wanted.

You leaned a little bit closer, careful not to brush your nose against his neck and breathed in. He had a pleasant smell - it reminded you of a shrine in the forest. A hint of incense and trees, refreshing and sacred.

You felt his head lean against yours and did your best to relax despite the strangeness of the situation. His mist tickled against your hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the gold streaks of his eyes almost disappear. He slowly shifted to angle his body more toward you, and caressed the side of your body with his free hand. He was careful not to stray too high or low.

You felt something inside of you shift with the tenderness of the gesture. It asked for nothing more. You felt the edges of reality become a bit fuzzy, like you were somewhere between the waking world and a dream. You sunk deeper into this feeling and felt Kurogiri relax next to you, as if he were going through the same thing.

He continued to touch you gently - how much time passed, you did not know. You began to feel streaks of desire light up through you, like shooting stars passing gently across your body. You did your best to ignore them, not wanting the moment to end or change. Kurogiri’s hand stopped moving and settled against your hip. You knew his hand was bigger than yours, but it felt even bigger curled around your hip. You felt the warmth of his touch as it slowly bled through the bathrobe. You took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled as you willed yourself to settle down.

You felt Kurogiri shift as something in the air changed, but all he did was place a tender kiss on your forehead.