#a very strange enchanted boy ||| headcanon

[lad-of-fortune]

Douxie: “I may not know how to fix this, but I do know you shouldn’t be stuck in here.”

Nimue: “You are... different. You are kind.”

[pomefioredove]

okay after reading all the goth hc, I gotta ask. how do you think the guys would react (any of them but preferred Floyd and Idia ) to playing them goth music/show them a trad goth outfit/makeup look (suprise them maybe? For example: I hc Leona to just have the least slay music taste to mankind (beastmankind?) so you play him- idk let’s say Lebanon Hanover, and he’s like “wtf is this herbivore?” But then he kinda gets into it. no pressure to write for it btw!

-✨♥️✨

ANON I was literally thinking about making a post like this a few days before this ask... you have my heart. I'm doing a full post

summary: nrc boys and goth type of post: headcanons characters: nrc students additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, half-headcanons half-x reader author's note: I'm assuming that goth as a subculture and a music scene already exists in this world. this post is also mostly about the music scene

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Riddle is essentially a baby bat

he's like, two bad life choices away from going full victorian goth at any given moment

he flat out refuses to listen to anything "vulgar" but secretly adores the dark, poetic side to goth

he's also morbidly obsessed with death, being a sad victorian boy and the child of two doctors. it works

as much as I hate to say it, Ace starts out as the kind of guy to say he wants a "goth gf" on multiple occasions

he proudly announces it to everyone at an unbirthday party once and Riddle almost kills him for being annoying for interrupting

thinks the music is too sad

...but he mellows out eventually (your influence)

both Deuce and Trey are not particularly interested

(Deuce leaned into punk music as a preteen but has since "given it up" because it's too unruly for an aspiring honors student, in his opinion)

Cater inexplicably already knows a lot about goth

won't talk about it unless you bring it up first but if you play him something semi-popular

he'll be like "oh yeah I know that one"

he has a few songs on his playlist he listens to when he's alone

is a goth magnet himself. pulls many hot goths. no one knows how

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jack is also not really into it. not his thing

however I can see him secretly being into emo

make of that what you will

and Ruggie will never pass you the aux again. he calls it "halloween music"

Leona acts thoroughly uninterested for a long time

like, he'll listen to the music you give him, but doesn't really say whether he likes it or not

says he doesn't care about the scene (thinks it's too pretentious)

and pretends to be annoyed when you give him more song recs

but he gets into it. he starts listening on his own

he has a definite preference for gothic rock

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jade is already goth (to me at least)

and very eager to talk about his favorite bands

loves giving recommendations

apparently the coral sea has its own goth subgenres and bands, which sound... much different from land ones

Floyd will listen (has listened, thanks to his brother) but he doesn't particularly care

he much prefers the aesthetic, it reminds him of home

...being that he's from the deep sea, where it's dark and cold

the flowy, dark, elegant looks are just enchanting to him. he can't keep his eyes off it

Azul couldn't be bothered

he's willing to learn, but isn't a huge fan of the general... strangeness

(he doesn't really understand why anyone would want to be perceived as strange in the first place)

and the music is so unmelodic to him

"that was just a man moaning and a gate creaking for seven minutes" and then he bans you from his office

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim literally listens to goth already

I don't know how to explain it but I know he does

it's so funny because he never ever dresses goth or acts stereotypically goth but every once in a while he'll be like "who wants to hear my new favorite song? :D" and it's like, alien sex fiend. and no one can say anything about it

Jamil is an appreciator

depending on what you show him, he could really get into the lyricism and general mood

...if only because he finds goth dancing absolutely mesmerizing

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rook is goth

he only dresses the part sometimes, but he's always been very passionate about the poetic elements of the music

...really into french coldwave

in terms of fashion he leans romantic goth

it just makes sense to me. he could find beauty in absolutely anything, and the dark and macabre are no exception

will talk your ear off about his favorite bands if you give him the chance

Vil is really more into the style than the music

he's dabbled in a little bit of everything; trad goth, romantic goth, medieval goth. he pulls all of it off

honestly, if anything, the gothic style compliments his features and tastes more than anything

he has such a respect for the subculture and the dedication that goes into the visual elements

Epel doesn't get it. sorry 😔

he will listen to the music you recommend because he cares about you, but he just doesn't like it

he's in the same boat as Azul. "was that a slide whistle?"

absolutely baffled, but he likes you and it's a small price to pay for your happiness

(and he thinks the fashion is too androgynous for his tastes)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I feel like Idia also used to think he wanted a goth until he saw the e-girl vs goth discourse, freaked out, then spent two weeks reading about different subcultures

...still wants a goth partner

but now he actually knows what that means

will listen to any music you give him out of respect (fear) and won't say anything about whatever weird taxidermy-related hobby you have

he's surrounded by death all the time anyway who cares

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you could get Silver to listen to the cure's entire discography and he'd come out of it really enjoying just like heaven and nothing else

it's just... not for him

(plus the slower songs put him to sleep)

Malleus somehow hasn't even heard of goth as a genre when you approach him

he is. a little disappointed it's not music about the architecture style

but he still warms up to it, especially as someone who enjoys finding the beauty in the dark and misunderstood

you can fix him. you can goth him.

Sebek joins only after everyone in Diasomnia gets in on it with you (he doesn't like being left out)

he loves it because silver doesn't and malleus does

peepaw Lilia is an old goth

he was around when the music scene started, and he also remembers the literature movement it was named after, and the popular architecture style that was named after, and...

...you get it

still, he's always pleased to learn about new bands and subgenres and styles and the like

could and will talk about it for hours and hours with you

he dresses the part, too

we love him

[orcasoul]

Din Djarin Headcanons

Din Watching you with Grogu

Din has never felt this way before. It's new, it's intense and it's terrifying. How he managed for years in his solitary existence is unfathomable to him now. Grogu entering his life had changed everything. The adorable green gremlin had managed to burrow himself into Din's guarded heart, fanning the flames of warmth that still lurked in there.

In no time at all that warmth had spread to every molecule of Din's being and had turned into love. Love, such a foreign, almost elusive concept, considering the last time Din had felt love was towards his parents. But, yes, love. He loves his son with a passion, a deep rooted well of devotion and affection.

He didn't think it was possible for his heart to expand any further, yet, here he is, watching with rapt enchantment as you cradle and sing to his sleepy son, and all the while Din feels his chest bloom with an incredible warmth that could cause him to spontaneously combust. You are beautiful, without even trying to be!

From the moment Din met you for an unofficial 'interview' in that dusty cantina, he'd felt a strange pull to you. It was a combination of things, really; Your obvious, natural beauty eclipsed the entire room, sure, but your instant rapport and maternal tenderness towards his foundling and your genuine warmth in general, had opened a never before explored region within Din's heart and he knew then and there, he had to offer you a position as Grogu's nanny.

Your melodic voice carries through the hull of the Razor Crest creating an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity, and a sense of home. The Razor Crest has always been just a ship to Din. Somewhere to stay warm, somewhere to eat and sleep and something to get him from A to B. But now with you and Grogu here it's home.

Din could watch you two forever, the blaster pistol in his hand now shining from being over polished. Stars! How he loves you. He didn't realise this kind of love existed, that there can be different kinds of love. You have unknowingly become the very beat of his heart, the air in his lungs, a soothing calm for the chaos that is his life.

For months he's wanted to tell you how he feels, but whenever the opportunity presented itself, he lost his nerve. He's never been a coward in his entire life, until now and he hates that. A normally fearless Mandalorian, who strikes dread and alarm into most people, mentally and emotionally undone, reduced to a nervous boy. This is the effect you have on him. His heart is in your hands. Boy, he never saw that coming.

Grogu finally settles and falls asleep, snoring softly as you lay him in his hammock, and kiss his wrinkled forehead. Closing the door of the sleeping bunk behind you, you turn to face Din, pressing a finger to your lips, followed by a "Shhh...," but also a soft smile and a 'look' that gives him hope. Din hopes he isn't just imagining it, but lately, he suspects you may have feelings for him too. In fact he's becoming more and more certain of it with each passing day.

He continues to clean his blaster (even though it's spotless by now), watching as you disappear into the fresher, as is your nightly routine; Put the baby down, shower and join Din in the cockpit where, over time, you've managed to pull enough conversations out of him that now he enjoys these moments of easy exchange between you both.

He's made his mind up. He will no longer be a coward. Tonight when you join him, he will confess everything to you. He will bare his heart and soul to the woman who has fundamentally changed him on every level, who has brought him to recognise this powerful, all encompassing love. Tonight he prays that his clan of two will become a clan of three.

[suckitdeku]

Hisoillu Week(end)

Prompt (08/23): past (first encounter)

Hisoka (24yo) was bored. He needed a new playmate. Illumi Zoldyck (21yo) just fell into his trap.

TW: blood, homie-cide, probably a violent family, stalkering, sexual references, so on and so forth... but just slightly :) also some typos.

This came out by the headcanon that my dear @lumizold and I had about their meeting. We also roleplayed it and it was the time of my life istg. Guess who roled who. Actually pretty easy. Too easy maybe. But here I tried to wrote them both on my own, and he liked the result, so i guess this is... good! At the very least. So shoutout to him for helping me understand better this difficult and majestic character, illumi zoldyck. He's now the boy of my life. And if it wasn't for him, i couldn't have written this as canonic as it- should be? is? well it's just conjugetion, we don't really care.

Enjoy!

Illumi was in the airship, heading towards a spot in the Padokea region where he got an assignment. A very important assignment... which would have made lots of money, according his grandfather Zeno, who just congratuled him for the assignment received. Well, if the Zoldycks' bank account was happy, the Zoldycks would have been happy too. Right?

He didn't question about it, but he had to admit that the request was pretty weird. Asking to a family of assassins for protection wasn't impossible, nor improbable, but... unusual? definiterly the most unusual thing ever happened to him. His square mind couldn't can a so shapeless thought... it was worst than having an uncovered glass of water in your car while speeding... and drifting. Up a montain road. Through sharp bends. In short, the water spills everywhere and you can't keep it in the glass, where it should have been since the beginning... if there were salted pistachios in that glass, they wouldn't have flown all over. Like the water did. He hated water as a kitten does.

Sitting straight and perfectly still in his second class seat, he kept overthinking his job assignment.

He knew little to nothing about it. Nothing too useful, and that was the reason he was ruminating the best way to make things work in case something went wrong upon his arrival.

A wealthy mafia boss has been repeatedly harassed by a real weirdo, whose incredible strength frightened all of his guards (all the hundred persons designated on working on his safety were terrified by him). He followed him everywhere he went, he stopped him to talk and ask him very molest questions. There, he had obtained this description of him: he was a molest man, tall and muscular with "shoulders like this" (you would say it's an accurate description), with magenta hair pulled back that stayed like this as if under an enchantment, a strange clown make-up with a little star and a teardrop under each eye, odd clothes with card suits motif and ridiculous shoes (again, what an accurate description...), but his voice was mellifluous and hardly you could discern his gentleness and his way of fooling you. It was so stressful, dealing with him. And therefore he was easily recognizable.

Illumk kept looking outiside the window.

The mysterious, molest clown was, among other things, a violent. He threatened to kill him in exactly five days, and already got in a fight with his guards, snuck in his super-secured estate's garden... well, he was a public manace walking on well-functioning legs. Illumi already thought that making those legs useless could be a good idea... but the client commissioned the homicide before he could pull out a joke of his, and so be it. In faxt, his job made more sense this way. Protect the client... by killing an enemy. Yes. This way, now, even the water in the glass had become governable in that devious journey.

And he went back to staring out the window.

He just wanted to go back home and see how his little brother Killua was handling their father's care.

?!?

Illumi felt dumbfounded. He wasn't effectively shocked, but... he still was speechless, his big black eyes whose pupils couldn't stand out over their irides were drawn towards the silent estate in front of him.

Corpses.

Corpses, corpses, corpses.

Corpses everywhere in the garden. Were they planted there as decorations, in order to scare the most cowards or were they there to give troubles to the one who had hired them?

One of the floor lamp along the walkaway had been blown. Something was stuck in it, and had short out part of the electric system, and now it was slowly catching fire.

It was... a playing card.

So, he really was dealing with a clown.

As if he was terrified, in that catatonic state of his, Illumi started running through the corpses, jumping over the blood puddles on his way, without sparing a glance at the deads' abhorrent expressions.

He really felt a bit of dread.

If... he failed...

He would not receive his payment! Those two- really serious parents perfectly capable of taking absolutely rational and logic decisions didn't get paid up front. Once, he tried to advice them about that little, hazardous detail... but after receiving that slap from his father, he couldn't even remember what was so hazardous about getting paid when the job was finished. And now they risked receiving nothing.

And yet, Illumi was right on time... he got embarked like a robot on the first available transportation, with the confidence that the clown would have made his appearence in eighteen hours circa... instead, the clown arrived and made them all dead. Deads. Deads everywhere.

Deads everywhere in every hallway he passed through. Was that a finger, that one he was seeing hanging on the wall with a card? Oh, yeah, it really was a finger. A little finger. Certainly a little finger, because the severed hand five meters further ahead was missing a little finger.

Macabre and thorny details passed under his unperturbed glare to embed in his mind, as if pinning them with pins on an enormous board. It was the summary of all the things he should be reporting his dad, along with his ass in order to let him whip it to a pulp, probably.

He began to spy a room, the only one with an open door, the warm light escaping by slithering through the threshold.

Corpses. Corpses everywhere. A man hanging on the wall, and one crawling to the door to escape, were the ones who immediately caught his big eyes.

A mature man, around his 50s and bald, was being held by the throat by... a... a guy really tall, and big... with a giggle sweet as honey, kind of mellifluous, his pale, muscular arms with protruding veins stretched towards the adult. Something about his appearence seemed off, but he didn't pay that much attention.

He was toying with the man. Like a white kitten pawing maliciously at a tailless lizard, already mortally wounded by his claws and canines. The man almost didn't try to free himself, but he looked like he was waiting for a miracle, a small glimmer of salvation to get his paws off of him.

They were the only ones alive.

— Oh, I guess I have visitors~

His murmur wasn't directed to anyone buy the adult between his hands, who he hold tightly. His face was vermilion. He could already see, already imagine them, some ecchymosis in his eyes, the attempts to free himself getting irregular and limp, his strangled sounds disappearing...

He finally showed himself up, throwing one of his pins already infused with Nen against the clown.

He, just as an expert performer in the circus, looked like he was expecting the pin as if it was a circus act he and his most trustworthy partner tried a thousand times. He moved even before the pin was ready to be flung, and... that was a matter of instants.

He bend his knees, threw back his head and all of his body. His back was a perfect arch in that pose so uncomfortable and artistic altogether. His hair, apparently with nothing left to hold it up, were now slipping across his face with oh so perfect features.

He abruptly released his victim in order to stay in that position, and the man stumbled in place for a single moment.

And threw himself back onto the clown, taking a breath in the process.

He jolted. Illumi, inside his soul, did the same.

The pin ended up on his jugular, and the man kept a hand on his neck, dazed. From the way he staggered you could tell he was dizzy.

With a wince which made him lose his playful smirk, the clown crouched down, ready to spring into action. His hair was in plac- his hair was in place, when had he recombed them?

He was glaring at the pin, without worrying about Illumi two meters away from them. He glared it. And glared at the man, while he was taking the unusual weapon and removing it from his neck. It was disgust. Disgust for his stupidity.

The man tumbled with a thud. His vertigo more dizzy than before with every squirt of blood gushing out the wound, now more deadly than before.

— Everyone knows that wounds with the weapon still inside should not be touched.

Both him and the Zoldyck watched him pant with wide eyes. The realization about his screw-up had hit him hard, just like the thought he was dying. The unknown man, pulling out a playing card, wondered if the victim of that cruel fate was thinking of something in particular: a warm greeting to his liver or the burning desire to spit on his father's and his assassin's tomb. They observed his life slip away from his eyes.

— If the weapon is still inside, you still have the chance to save your life yourself.

A strangled sound.

His eyes glassy.

An embarassing silence. The Zoldyck was stuck and static. He wasn't swinging lightly on his own feet. He wasn't shifting his weight from a side to the other, and he wasn't looking away from the new cadaver, still warm. He looked nervous in his own way. He was extremely illegible.

— Don't tell me that the one whose life I just casually took away was the mafia boss who instructed me to kill you.

— No no~ — the stranger laughed, turning to face him. That Zoldyck was so ugly and ungroomed... black hair cutted in a bob, his athletic figure concealed by a banal track suit in unattractive colors or... generally not very colorful. And it was such a shame, because his doll-like eyes, his perfect and also symmetric features, summed up with those thin, pinky lips with an adorable shape were really attractive. — He was head of the guards.

— So where did you left the person I'm looking for?

— Right at your feet, asking for mercy~

Illumi lowered his gaze. There was the man he previously saw, ho looked like he was crawling for his dear life.

Illumi took a deep breath, staring at him without batting an eye. Literally. Not a movement. He didn't even looked mad. No throbbing vein on his neck. Nor sweat droplets.

The maniac tried to incite him.

— I got bored waiting for you~ I decided to kill time playing cat and mouse. Or mice~ obviously you can see they're city mice~ they didn't run away from me well enough... I had to kill 'em all to satisfy my bloodlus-

The Zoldyck turned around, and calmly started walking away.

The maniac stayed there, looking at the threshold, batting his lashes with surprise.

Was he dumb?

He jogged after him, as if nothing had happened.

!?!

— Weren't you going to kill me~?

— Stop moaning and lower your voice.

— Coomee ooon~ answer me~

— I haven't been paid.

— Yeah, no shit, you didn't finish your job yet if I'm still alive~

— He who hired me is dead. The contract is no longer valid. I'm going back home.

— To mommy and daddy, huh~?

— Yes. If I'm going back home I'm going back to them. Not to other people.

— And don't you want to entertain yourself with me, killing time together~?

— No. I don't have time.

— Yes you have, that guy's dead and no one can disturb us while we're getting to... know each other~

That maniac was sticling his hands out too much. Yep. Pretty molest. He slapped them away, and the man groaned in pleasure.

— No. I have to go back home and explain this trouble.

— So~? I took away your assignment, you should be mad, or scared of their reactions~

— I'm just pensive.

— What else~?

He developed him in his sticky embrace, whispering in his ear. He believed he was pushing him into talking about more interesting matters, with his own hands brushing and caressing his hips, because he felt shivers running on his skin.

— I feel like. Having a lollipop.

— Here, take it, babyboy.

The Zoldyck, amazed, turned to face him, still in his embrace, as if it was nothing. His eyes weren't surprised, but his arched brows definitely were. Now they were both still, one before the other, and were looking at each other. Then, his black eyes slowly drifted away from the stranger's pure gold irises to halt on his lightly stretched-out hand.

Between tapering fingers, tightly hold between long and sharp nails, there was a small lollipop.

He batted his lashes and took it. It was as thin as a card, under his fingertip, and... seemed a card, for real.

— Are you kidding me?

The lollipop, point of contention of the two hands, suddenly became a card. A jolly.

Too fun. He was being sarcastic.

The man smiled like a fox, his lips stretched and closed, eyes narrowed. — It's a trick~

Illumi squeezed his eyelids, unamused, and took some distance from him to look at his face. His make-up was odd, it was true. He just noticed it. It seemed like a make-up for clown, maybe because of the teardrop and the tiny star, but... clowns didn't paint their face that way. They were... so colourful and showy.

His gaze wenr back to normal, while the man kept staring at him. — You... are not the clown I was looking for, right?

The man lost his smile, and gazed at him. His eyes had lost their light. He didn't seem to be enjoying himself either. — I am a magician, little Zoldyck.

And he parted his lips in a "o", his brows lightly arched as if comprehensive. — So you're not who I'm looking for. — and he added under his breath that, in fact, the magician make-up wasn't included in the identikit, and that he was licky he recognized it. The man's frown deepened.

— I indeed am the one~ you silly~

— No, you're wrong. I'm looking for a clown. He looks exactly like you... but he paints his face like a clown.

— You dummy, I'm the one who persecuted your client~ I did it on purpose, in order to lure you here~

The Zoldyck parted again his thin lips in a "o" shape, and his eyebrows raised, too. Maybe he realized he was in a trap.

— But I was told to look for a clown... you're a magician, I noticed it.

— I am a magician, my name's Hisoka, — he spelled his introduction for the idiot. — As a matter of fact, however, I get mistaken for... a cheap clown.

— Clowns are not cheap. — said the young man. On second thought, he looked really young — They make you laugh, scared and kill people.

— Only in horror movies.

— My life is a horror movie.

Hisoka smiled a little hearing those words. — You're an enjoyable person, little Zoldyck~

— I'm not little. I'm the firstborn.

— But how~ how old are-

He got interrupted by an unpleasant noise. In the quiet of the night, to sweep away the blissful and relaxing sensation of the humid air brushing the naked skin, several sirens got closer to the location of the slaughter.

The Zoldyck started running to the woods. Hisoka, without missing a bit, followed right after.

— And here I thought you enjoyed attention, all eyes on you. — the Zolduck murmured, between a long stride and the other. — Back there, there are lots of eyes ready to watch you and lots of hands ready to catch you.

— But no one could do it like you~

That answer didn't break him down, instead he quickened his pase. Hisoka was stalking him.

— You still haven't ask me a single thing. — he said after one minute of jogging in the wood.

The Zoldyck didn't spare him a single look. — I don't care.

— But we're walking together~

— You're following me.

— Talk to me, coomee oonnn~

— I gotta go.

Hisoka grabbed him in his embrace, forcing the other to stop.

— What's your name~?

— I have no time. — was his crude response

He found himself pointing a pin against his throat, and his Adam's apple grazed it as it bobbed to swallow and moan.

But Hisoka craved for more. He crawled over his body as if he were dying. He didn't care about the pin, may the pain be welcomed, on the contrary. But he needed to be with him.

— I'm bored~ so bored~ I need... someone on my level to fight with~ I've set a trap for you to meet you, little Zoldyck.

So he had revealed his cards. I hoped to intrigue him. It had to intrigue him. He had to get it out of that head somehow. Maybe it would all end in a bloodbath.

But the Zoldyck just kept glaring at him. — I'm sorry. I can't stay here risking to het caught. If you know my surname, you also know my family and the rumors going around us.

Hisoka nodded, purring on him. He wasn't trying to leave his arms anymore. — No one know your names and your faces, so infamous in everywhere in Padokea~

— My father would not appreciate me ending up in jail. — he pointed out. — I don't know about you, but I don't want to get arrested.

Hisoka's face leaned over towards his. — When will I see you again, then~?

And the young man allowed himself to be deceived. He paid no attention to that touch, to those hungry looks, and only said a few words.

— Are you able to remember phone numbers?

A shiver run down his spine. A Zoldyck's phone number was the best he could hope for, obviously after a fuck/fight with one of them. — Ohh~ well, yes, yeah...

— I'm going to tell you. — he cutted short.

But Hisoka moaned, attaching himself on his body. Illumi felt with a growing embarrassment... something poking against his hips. — Oh no, just not right away~ if you write it on my arm... I'll show you a trick and no one will see your number~

The young man stayed still, looking at him. In silence. His eyes shone a bit. — A magic trick?

— I'm a magician for a reason~

He batted his lashes. — Arm. — he streched out his hand.

Hisoka vibrated with excitement, extending it to to him, nonchalantly. He still had his lips streched in that fox-like smirk of his. — How merciful of you~ you allow me to still stay close to you and give me such a cuddle~? I must seem to you to be on the verge of death and in need of one last wish~

The young Zoldyck took something out of his pocket. A small pin, so sharp, the top of it green. Slowly, looking at him in the eye, he started likinv it, his pink tongue leaving saliva at every lick.

Hisoka didn't know exactly what that little show he was witnessing was, but he knew that he didn't mind it at all. His throbbing member between his legs told him so. The warm pang in his stomach told him so. The eyes that became pools of liquid gold at the heavenly sight.

When it was all nice and moist, he dully took it away from his mouth.

— Are you going to write with that~?

— Yes. How are you going to hide the number?

— With my favorites Nen technique, of course~

He carried it lightly against his skin. He pressed the tip gently, and when he broke the skin a trickle of blood flowed calmly.

The night was torn from its quiet by the moans and cries of pleasure of a man, sweetly tortured by a very nice, unique and skilled assassin, who loved to dilate time under his expert touch to prick it with pins.

Hisoka couldn't remember ever feeling so excited.

When their paths separated, the young assassin had discovered that Bungee-gum has the properties of both rubber and gum, and Texture Surprise could be very useful in cases where the wounds needed to be hidden in some way, and Hisoka had discovered that the person with whom he had pleasantly spent minutes of total ecstasy was called Illumi Zoldyck, and that his telephone number was... divine when written in blood.

[ringofdoubt]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

<3 <3 <3 ty <3 <3 <3

I'll keep this to dragon age fics since we're on the dragon age sideblog here

Out of the Game - After years serving as a Grey Warden in Orlais, Loghain is reassigned to the Free Marches under Warden Stroud. Which is why, in a small Starkhaven tavern, the Hero of River Dane found himself sitting down to drink with a Chevalier. 1.6k

This was the first fic of mine that made it out of the google docs and onto ao3. It's the only thing about Loghain and Stroud being wardens together that I've posted (so far) but oh boy are my headcanons / scraps of my multichapter fic elaborate.

2. Dignity - Vivienne grieves for Bastien and struggles to find the right words to inform his family of his death. Josephine helps her. 1.1k

This is my take on Vivienne and Josephine's friendship. I just think those two would understand each other very well.

3. A Beginner's Guide to Orlesian Etiquette - If the Inquisitor is going to survive at the Winter Palace, he is going to need a crash course in all things Orlesian.

“My dear, you’re from Ostwick – the height of your culture involves chasing a large wheel of sweaty cheese down a hill.”

The Inquisitor grinned, “I won that once.”

Vivienne did not look impressed. 1.2k

Look, I think this is funny and maybe that's enough haha. It's me imagining my Inquisitor Adaar preparing for Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.

4. Campfire - On the road to Redcliffe, Warden Tabris and Loghain drink together in camp. Tabris has a question about the Night Elves. 2.1k

This is just a long conversation between my Warden Tabris and Warden Loghain before the end of Origins.

and finally my beloved WIP that I WILL finish one day...

5. A Blind Eye - Niall’s quiet life in Kinloch Hold depends on ignoring a lot of what the other mages get up to - then he receives a strange invitation from Senior Enchanter Uldred and realises just how much about the tower he's been overlooking. 48.2k (so far)

Yeah so remember Niall, the guy whose body you get the Litany of Adralla off during the mage tower questline in Origins? For some reason I wrote all this about him haha.

This is from Niall's PoV but its really an exploration of what Uldred (and Jowan and Anders) were up to in the run-up to Uldred's rebellion. Aka exactly how Niall ended up with the Litany.

[littlefreya]

Ghost Stories

Summary: They said the house was haunted, that long time ago a young man was murdered between these crumbling walls, but she never believed in urban legends and spooky tales.... 

Pairing: Mike x OFC (3rd person. No description of race or body type)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, smut, greyish, rather dub-con, supernatural themes, stalking, voyeurism, hinted possessive behavior, female masturbation, oral sex (female receiving), slight somnophilia, sex, sex with a horny ghost, Mike saying  “Sweetcheeks”.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: Spooky times commences. I am indeed working on turning all the headcanons into stories. This time it’s horny ghost Mikey time. I never wrote a full story with Mike, and umm ghost sex, I guess there is a first for anything. I hope you guys like it.  👻 Many thanks to @agniavateira​ for beta and emotional support!

Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed 🖤

Title: Ghost Stories

‘Murder House’ was the unofficial name of the building at the end of Cherrywood street. For centuries it stood unyielding in the face of many harsh winters, its clay-brick exterior pitted and worn by the solitude of the city’s suburbia. And like most old houses, it festered with ghost stories: more specifically, the mystery about the premature death of a handsome young man, the details groomed and begrimed over the years, deeming the abandoned home haunted with myths.  

One would argue that the place had a certain charm to it; the tall saplings and vine-stalks that covered the walls gave it an enchanted rustic atmosphere, though the house’s true beauty laid in its attractive auctionable price. 

A bid so tempting none could refuse—especially not a single young woman, looking to start a life of her own.

Spirits and ghouls would have to excuse her inability to reject such a heady offer. It’s not like she believed in them anyway, and in the three days of arranging and redecorating her new home, no dead frat boy came to greet or tried to cast her away. If anything, the house’s peeling walls radiated with strange tepid hospitality, and a sweet fruity scent permeated through its corridors.  

Stranded between two worlds, Mike could not help himself; it was a pleasant surprise to see life spring through the house once again. Fifteen years in purgatory felt like thousands. Oftentimes he found himself embroiled with ferocious envy aimed toward the living, thinking of all the beautiful women he didn’t get to enjoy, the warmth of skin, bare, soft to touch—all robbed from him before he witnessed 22 summers.

But the thick veil of spite lifted from his chest the day she stepped foot into his house, and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her away.

Drenched with sweat, the young woman huffed with ardour, taking another pause and a long whiff of air as she strained to reposition the modern-looking sofa she ordered from IKEA. The couch was twice her size, and Mike couldn’t help but chuckle at her quirky little grunts and glares of determination as she struggled to reposition it in the spacious living room. 

“Aren’t you a fierce little babe, sweetcheeks,” he uttered loudly and strode to lean against the other corner of the wall with an amused smirk cresting his face.

His pretty little guest said nothing in response. But of course, she couldn’t hear him; though sharing the same space, they were divided between contradicting realms. 

The very sight of her exertion reminded him of... things he didn’t experience in quite some time. Opaline pearls of effort painted her heaving chest, her eyes glossed with mild despair, and a peal of breathless gasps emitted from her parted lips. Despite being dead, a thick dribble of temptation still wove in his gut, inviting him to run a curious hand over her delicious rump. 

‘It would be oh so very wrong.’ 

‘However…’

‘Would she even feel it?’ Mike pondered while his covetous eyes glazed over her curves. While he was contemplating the idea, she sighed and abruptly fell onto the pillowy sofa with a vocal defeat. 

Staring onto the ceiling, she tried to regain her forces, sinking into brusque daydreams of what life may become one day when a sudden chill crawled her skin. Something was not quite right in the room—a shadow, quiet and obscure, loomed over her when she was, in fact, alone.

Briefly, she inspected the room with a leery eye, detecting no movement and no sound. 

“Silly superstitious townsfolks,” she muttered and brushed these thoughts away, convinced that the stupid urban legends of ‘might-have-been-murdered-Mike’ had subconsciously rooted themselves in her mind. 

It made much more sense than assuming there was an envious ghost ogling her while she rested in the living room. 

Soon, the house began to take a comely shape. 

For days she laboured in making their home inhabitable; framed prints of woodland critters and green plants hung onto freshly painted walls while the kitchen eddied with the delicious scent of home cooking. Ever the silent voyeur, Mike followed her around like a devoted puppy, relishing the warm light that showered the once gloomy halls. It was her presence that vanquished the miasmic cloud of death that engulfed him for over a decade, replacing it with the silky touch of a woman. 

He wished he could feel that softness on his skin, even for a split second. 

“If only you knew how wonderful you are, baby,” Mike uttered as he stood beside her, watching her dip the thick bristly brush into a can of wood varnish to coat over the old pantry cabinet in the dining room. 

Painting the vitrine door, her gaze was vacant; fleeting thoughts floated away from the path, lost to a ravine. She was happy here, of course, but then a lurching longing crept into her heart, accompanied by the odd lingering sensation of being watched. Some days were worse than others; her lungs sometimes shrivelled as if a large man towered behind with the ill will to squeeze her breasts.    

“This is stupid. Get a hold of yourself...” she whispered and shook her head, dipping the brush into the can.

Hearing her pleasant voice, Mike smiled with a flash of pearly whites, his cobalt orbs sparkling with admiration. 

He leaned close enough to smell her skin. “Don’t be afraid, sweetcheeks, as long as I am here, they can’t harm you.” 

A hiss sliced through the air, followed by a clatter as the can slipped between her quivering fingers and landed on the floor. Heart racing, she stood frozen, convinced that she felt the caress of air against her temple and heard a soft whisper.

But again, there was nothing around her—just her mind playing tricks, succumbing to the stupid myths told by the neighbours. 

“Fucking hell!” she bellowed and crouched to pick up the can, muttering profanities as the viscid lacquer stained the floor and her socks.   

“Get it the fuck together,” she grunted, trying to clean up the mess, “if this ghost dude is watching, he must think I am an idiot…” 

But Mike only beamed, utterly surprised and amazed that he managed to make contact. Perhaps there was a unique bond between them. Maybe his death meant something, and they were destined to find one another. Looking at her attempt to collect the liquid back into the can, he combed his fingers through his black curls, thinking of how he would tell her he thinks the world of her. 

But as she lifted her head and glared right through him with irritation burning through her eyes, he felt hollow once again.   

In a way, Mike believed that he knew his little tenant better than she knew herself. A strong-willed, independent girl on the surface, one to claim she doesn’t need a man, who endured by a mantra that she was happy alone. But he could smell the sheen mist of solitude that wafted around her like an aura of regret. 

On weekends she would light the bedroom up with musky candles- by god, she spent so much money on those—and a generous glass of rosé. She’d sit on the bed with a laptop perched on her thighs, reading scandalous erotic tales. Now and then, she would put up a little show that entices him more and more. 

It felt wrong to watch her at first. But Mike, all fascinated, could never really look away; the only time he ever saw a woman do something like that was when he watched porn in his college dorm, and that always seemed outrageously fake. Trusting in the solitude of her bedroom, she was natural, tender, and true when she touched herself, taking the sweet time to explore and please herself for her and not for some male observer.

‘Or did she?’ 

Suspicion arose the evening she decided to chase one of her fantasies in the bath. Thick mist and mellow tones hung over her naked body, heady steam soared from her glowing skin while the light remnants of foam that glazed her breasts reminded Mike of a sea nymph rising from the tides. 

Struck with awe, he circled the antique tub, enthralled by the spectacle of her ‘self-care’. 

A peal of gentle hums left her lips. Body possessed by wicked impulses, she swayed in a salacious rhythm and guided her fingers between her swollen lips. Back and forth, she pumped in languid thrusts, desire given to the strange man who only existed in the surreal realm of her dreams: tall with shoulders of sturdy mountain, eyes of hydrogen flames, and his hair was an onyx mane of luscious curls.  

She had no recollection of ever seeing him outside her fantasies, and yet his image kept recurring in the hazy veil of midnight. Smooth touches like tongues of silk, yet firm and commanding—he would bend her over the bed, his thick veiny arm holding at her nape, and like a good little whore she would throb for his cock. 

The memory of a dream made her delve knuckle-deep, and she came with a hoarse moan, throwing her head back with the heaving exhaustion of climax.

Enamoured with the beauty of her post-orgasmic lustre, Mike sauntered to crouched beside his secret love. His pale cerulean orbs traced the rivulets of sweat that glistened on her skin while he clutched the edge of the tub. The water was tainted opaline with soap and whatever drenched from her flawless hide. Playfully, he mused of bathing himself in those waters.

If only he could feel. 

Taken by a sudden sadness, he casually dipped a finger into the tepid bath when a huff of bewilderment exclaimed from his gaping lips. Currents of bliss thrummed through his tendons, wet, hot, and mildly oily—the water kissed his lifeless skin. 

How could it be?

Overwhelmed, Mike twirled the water with his long digit, creating a small vortex that kept dancing on its own once he withdrew his hand. Toying with the fluidity on his pads, a thought began to form in his head: perhaps the love he felt was so intense it granted him the power to touch, to sense, to whisper words of praise.

A poltergeist.  

They were fated to be. He knew that now and his gaze averted to his girl, suffused with worship and longing. Still crouched over the porcelain tub, he reached the back of his knuckles to graze her damp cheek.  

“Do you think of me, beautiful? When you touch yourself?” 

A shy simper crept onto her face. 

“Sometimes…” she answered absentmindedly, nearly drifting away, but then a chilling liquid seeped through her bones, and her lungs lurched. Eyes wide open and glossy with panic, she looked around to find the man who spoke to her.

But there was no one in the room, no one other than herself. 

The existence of the supernatural plagued her mind as the days grew thick with bizarre occurrences. First, it was the creaks and squeaks of phantom steps on the old wooden boards, then the whispers: soft, dainty like feathers in the wind. And each night, when she laid in bed, she could have sworn a shadowy figure loomed by the door. 

Sitting on the cot, surrounded by books of the occult and elaborated notes, she scoured the web for ghost sightings and haunted houses, trying to find any resemblance to the experiences she experienced. The information ranged from stories that crawled beneath her flesh to such ‘bullshit’ her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. 

“This is stupid,” she intoned with a frustrated sigh and shook her head. She reminded herself that she was a reasonable woman, that these wild ideas of being haunted by ghosts were nothing more but a by-product induced by solitude. Huffing with the relief brought by the stroke of rationality, she began collecting the books and notes in a pile and shoved them into the nightstand. 

Paranoia had her running in the labyrinth of her own mind, attempting to make logic out of something that had no roots in the ground of reality. So unbearably exhausted, she collapsed onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling with heavy lids. A blink and two and then another, and the tentacles of sleep pulled her under.   

Mike eyed the sleeping beauty sprawled on the bed. Even in her worn, oversized t-shirt, she was a deity. An iridescent aura encircled her slumbering form, a thing that only a man who dwelled between two worlds could discern. Divine and warm, her chest rose and sank with the omen of a menstruating heart. A hint of celestial blue and delicate lace peeked between her thighs and the same blessing that made his touch solid had also fortified his sense of smell.

One profuse intake of air and her scent pervaded the depth of his soul—a most pleasant aroma: fresh and wispy, resembling pale winter-flowers blooming in the rain. 

Death could no longer keep them apart—tonight, under the cracked ceiling, amongst the enchanted walls of the haunted Cherrywood residence, Mike vowed to make love to his dreamgirl for the first time.

He stood naked at the fore of the large bed. A beam of moonlight cascaded a pale penumbra over her resting figure like theatre lights, fixing the viewer’s eye on the main star sleeping deeply, awaiting the kiss of the charming prince. Spellbound, Mike never broke sight, the fear that she would whisk herself away made imminent. His touch seemed to be the only way to be sure she would remain ensnared in his grasp. His hands were tender moss hugging an ancient tree bark, becoming one out of love, out of desire to be a single entity. 

“I love you,” he whispered and kissed each leg above her knees. 

The eruption of stars besieged his cold lips, her flesh riddled with the electric flow of deceit that was life. A taste so sugary, so addictive, he immediately came to understand vampires. He kissed again, his mouth spectering her inner thighs. In his amorous damnation, he spoke her name.  

There was a voice in her head, the soft murmur of morning tides kissing the shore. Swept into a lascivious delirium, the corners of her lips twitched into a smile and Mike revelled as the scent of dew drifted from the guarded heat between her thighs. Praising her skin with winged kisses, he ascended further and reached a daring hand to tug her underwear and expose her mound.

Solitude never seemed so graceful, glistening-hot and gaping with a maw of anticipation to be filled by a man who could never fulfil any biological fancy her body may yearn for. And yet, he would be the ultimate spouse... 

“I will never leave,” Mike promised and laid a chaste kiss to her pillowy, succulent petals, “never let you out of my sight.” His vows led to a tongued exploration of her drenched crease. Slow and languid, he tasted the saccharine valley. And in her slumber, she squirmed and smiled further, emitting soft hums of satisfaction.

A mirthful stream of blood fell to her loins. Still laced in the silk ribbons of slumber, her body roused to the feast of his savouring suckles and the tidal change that streamed through her muscles further fueled Mike’s excitement. Zealously, he lapped the waves that rapidly stormed and crushed at the base of her core, her juices simmered with glee at the tip of his tongue the deeper he plunged. Even though her climax drew near, and he wanted nothing more than to undo her with a kiss, to experience her moment of complete bliss while tucked in the warmth of her cunt seemed more appropriate.

With one final lick, he lifted his head from her groin and climbed forward between her welcoming thighs, his wide waist pressing her open while he folded her knees to assure a smoother entry. It was paradoxical that his cock would stand so ardent to fill her as the purpose of copulation was life, yet love triumphed logic and hard and dripping lust. He was ready to fulfil every inch of her unwitted whims. 

Peering down one last time, Mike admired his woman the way he would worship a virgin, and in a way, she was pure, she never had death inside her before. 

But the tangible laws of life and death were soon to be undone. Who made those anyway?

Unable to hold back, Mike gripped his length tautly and breached into her defenceless cunt with a husky groan. 

Her mouth tore open with a cry of surprise, and her eyes first screwed with the awkward pang of forced entry before flaring open with shock. Above her, inside her, laid the same haunting beauty who visited her every night, the one with flaming blue orbs and a tussle of black locks. It was another dream—it had to be, one so real she could feel the weight of a man crushing her down and the undeniable pressure of penetration, first cold and then blazing hot and hard like a thick sword fresh from the forge. It split her in half and only stalled as he sheathed in the embrace of her choking walls. 

And though terrified, though shaken - she did not think of fighting him, nor did she want to wake up. The chains of fervour lulled her to surrender to the curious, mesmerising pulse of pleasure that shot through her tendons. The phantom of her fantasies, so handsome, so pallid, brushed his knuckles against her cheeks and whispered in a velvety timbre that made her heart exhilarate.

“Let me possess your body.”

Shrouded by the force of wanton, she nodded at his request and arched against the stranger. Her legs entangled his own, and she undulated her pelvis to further swallow his cock and squeeze him within her hollow. 

More. She wanted more.

Impassioned yet careful, Mike pulled himself almost entirely out, leaving only the heart-shaped head to stuff her gaping hole. Both of them gasped in ardour, holding their mouths open against one another, sharing one shuddering breath as the slow, tortuous drag of his cock amidst her walls left them in a rage that only the reclamation of her weeping slit by his manhood could undo.

Not willing to spare another second, Mike snapped his hips, plunging his cock into a whimsical harmony of juices and veils of wet livid flesh. Whatever thrummed in his veins was overrun by jolts of electricity. 

Inside her, he became alive. 

Earnestly, she bucked to meet his strokes, rolling her waist to claim him further to herself. Their rhythm was similar to silken drapes blowing in the wind, but as the vortex of rapture began to pull them deeper, they quickly became erratic and unhinged as the ocean itself.

And indeed, she felt as if she was drowning, although on solid ground. Currents of burning water gushed through her lungs and womb. The man of her dreams, who continually stuffed her, felt more true and real than any man she had before. 

“Oh god! Who are you?” she gaped at him with disbelief and reached her hands to his bare behind, forcing him to delve harder and deeper. 

“Fill me! Please!”

Mike graced her face with feverish kisses in response, inching toward her mouth with each spur of his groin. Complying to her demand, he impaled through her with the same envious zeal he felt toward the living, though this time it wasn’t hatred but his own lust for life that drove him into a frenzy. Pressing his arms to the sides of her head, he lifted his upper body and railed his sweet girl into the mattress, abandoning whatever remains of tenderness he had left. The old wooden pegs of the bed screeched beneath them, crumbling dust fell upon their naked bodies as the headboard slammed into the wall. 

Caged beneath him, she thrashed and cried out helplessly. The same cuffs of ecstasy crashed at her core like violent oceans splashing against the dock, each wave more vigorous and destructive as Mike slammed harder into her. Molten heat gushed and filled and drowned her womb until the pressure became too painful and unbearable to resist. Shutting her eyes, she shattered into millions of pieces, breaking like a crystal statue furiously crashing onto the floor. 

Utterly consumed by the way she held him, Mike smirked down upon his sweet girl and cradled her face, delving deeper in search of unloading the strain that took over him. The same decades of anger, yearning, and lust set loose in an instant. With a shuddering shout, he unleashed himself inside her burning womb, breaching into the heaven he was denied. A tingling stream ran through his bones, his muscles, his arteries, warming his blood. For a split second, his heart beat again. For a sliver of a second, blinding lights abruptly bathed his sight. Brighter than sunshower, it danced across the room before vanishing away. 

Mike had his fingers etched about her temples, his thumbs grazing the apples of her cheeks. The pale sea in his marine-blue orbs roared with astonishment, an abundance of emotions and reveries danced on the glassy surface. But his girl was already fading into unconsciousness, returning into the traitorous world of sleep that robbed her away from him.

A maw of anguish soon filled his tender heart, and a quiver parted his pillowy lips. But their separation was only temporary until another night would come, and he would unit the realm of the living with the realm of the dead again…

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks,” Mike pressed a kiss on each of her eyelids. “I will never let you go.”

Never in her life did she wake into such excruciating exhaustion. Every cell in her body was wrapped in a burning flame and the bones of her limbs felt as if someone squeezed them in their grip. Groaning, she sat up and scanned the room as if looking for a presence, but alas, she was alone save for the dust and the mice who probably scampered through the hollow walls.

Her chest sunk into slight relief, and she threw the blanket away, ready to start her day when a pang shot through her core. 

Abruptly, she became aware to the stickiness that dribbled from her raw sex. 

“What?...” she shivered momentarily and reached her fingers to her mound. A glistening layer of sheen excrement coated her pads. 

It was just a dream, she convinced herself, an eerily, realistic dream. In her sleep, she must have thrashed and squirmed, which would of course, explain the strain in her muscle, while the wetness between her legs was merely her own arousal. Shaking her head at the onslaught of nonsense that assailed her musings, she climbed out of bed and grabbed her laptop, ready to begin the day.

The crispy aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air while she placed some milk in the frother. Waiting for the milk to boil within the device, she opened her laptop to check her mail. For a shy moment, she stilled at her thoughts as the browser was open on a silly urban legends site, displaying different mystery houses. It was then when she recognised her own home in one of the photos. 

“Heh…” she huffed, only a tad impressed, though still curious and amused at the situation.

Not paying too much of a thought, she clicked the link and turned around to grab a large mug and fill it with coffee. Humming a soft tune, she turned back toward the monitor when a crippling frost took over her spine.  

The mug slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor and splashing boiling coffee on her bare toes. 

Though in her distraught, she barely even felt the heat; too stunned as she faced the familiar blue flames, the curls of onyx black and the dimpled chin of the man who haunted her dreams and claimed her in her sleep.

His name was Mike.

Credit: Pretty dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Hellraiser franchise or Mike

[eyelessdoll-y]

I have a headcanon that Kanato is a possible old fashioned collector/curious man who brings small inventions, pieces and cute things he finds out there and keeps them in a room of "lost and found".

Things that would fit, be a beautiful decoration or accessories for his dolls and other crafts that he does, whether to assemble or simply play or leave thrown in his work room ughh whatever.

Kanato is the dirtiest of the diaboys, so I don't imagine him being a disgusting kid with bugs, nature or germs. I believe that if he finds something pretty that really interests him in a human park/field or some enchanted forest in some other realm, he will take it with him and keep it. It's like his treasure chest.

Let's pretend in a moment on your teenage you meet the "zombie boy" of the school, and one day doing home lessons you went to the Mansion Sakamaki work with him. Maybe too young to suffer some consequence, or not had access to some morbid and decomposed facilitated to you to not be find dead in some chemical deposit lake out there.

After a few hours, finishing the work he kept insisting on showing you a special place. Kanato takes you to a place not far from his quarters and not taking long to arrive, he opens a door for you where inside there are some peculiar things found.

From toys to parts he doesn't know, or knows if it works. Board pieces, broken clocks, wooden toys, old and abandoned dolls, some steampunk stuffs, insects and pots with tools (because we agree that Kanato is a very practical and maybe a bit materialistic when it comes to what he likes and what he loves to do) and DUDE I'm sure at least 10 TIMES Reiji has already gone in there to pick up some piece or something that serves as an ingredient for his experiments.

Obviously strange creatures too, because his family is not human and in my hc they can have access to other worlds with another hundreds various types of mythological or non-terrestrial creatures like them. Man, I go crazy with these kinds of things.

I dunno, my hc my rules and that's it. I would curiously be even more in love if he had these things, he is so weird and eccentric and all this would make him even more beautiful, amazing and stupidly smart. I would listen to him talk about every piece, every detail, and I would even bring him new things to assemble animals, dolls and create homunculus if I found it. The more eccentric and deviant, the better. Dammit, how could I fall in love with this weird zombie guy?

I wanted to post more photos but I reached the limit, I love it all ok bye!

Credits to pinterest and the photo owners.

[just-a-mod]

There was a boy. A very strange, enchanted boy. They say he wandered very far, Very far, Over land and sea. A little shy, And sad of eye, But very wise was he. And then one day, One magic day he passed my way. And while we spoke of many things, Fools and kings, This he said to me:

a headcanon i made for Crux and Green

[twstlotus]

Hi! Welcome to the fandom! Can i please request some fluffy headcanons for Azul, Jade, Rook and Malleus with a reader who brings them homemade lunches and eats with them? Thank you!

Will I ever learn how to condense the length of my writing? Stay tuned and find out!

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul’s face flushes a deep red when he sees the lunchbox you prepared for him after class, wrapped so lovingly and neatly. All while trying to hide the crimson color on his cheeks by pretending to fix his glasses. He knew you had a talent for cooking and working with knives (something that he finds trouble in), but to use that talent for him…

When he finally calms down, he unwraps the packaging somewhat gently. He was treating it as if it were a fragile cup of glass. Well, he wouldn’t want to ruin the handiwork you put into the packaging itself either. Wrapping paper with small, mini-octopuses drawn onto it? He finds it endearing.

The moment Azul opens the lunchbox is the moment that all the effort he put into trying to withhold the crimson shade on his cheeks immediately goes to waste— he’s a blushing mess, to say the least.

The smell of deep-fried shrimp, the sight of small octo-dogs, and heart-shaped rice; it’s the perfect recipe to have his heart explode into a million bits. He offers to have lunch with you at a bench outside near the cafeteria, though sometimes he stumbles on his words slightly.

The two of you share your lunch hours peacefully. Azul is savoring all the tastes and flavors from your cooking, especially the fried shrimp, while you giggle when you notice the wine-red color lingering on his cheeks.

You would sometimes try to spoon-feed him but he declines every time for the sake of his reputation. You don’t mind, though, you get to see his cheeks redden whenever you propose the idea so it’s a win-win!

Jade Leech

Jade had never seen you cook, he didn’t doubt that you could, but he never even fathomed the idea that you’d use your skill for him— so imagine his surprise seeing you run along the halls with a lunchbox in your hands after class…

Before he opens the lunchbox, he suggests that the two of you have lunch in the Mostro Lounge instead. There are a few tables that are in a more secluded area of the Lounge so you could both have some peace while you eat; you agree.

Lady Luck seemed to favor both of you today— the Mostro Lounge wasn’t as hectic or full as it would have usually been and Floyd was still in classes, meaning that no you wouldn’t be disturbed! Of course, you kept the last part in your thoughts. No need to say something as rude as that, especially about Floyd to Jade.

When he opens the lunchbox, his eyes are greeted with the sight of his favorite octopus carpaccio, framed into a heart-shape and the parsleys above it made into a sort of v-shape, slightly resembling a heart; next to the carpaccio were a few onigiris, among other things as well.

Jade finds it endearing that you organized his meal into such an adorable way, it’s charming to him. He expresses his fondness with a sweet smile before digging in.

“Oya, oya, this is very…,” he pauses, “...delicious!” The eel states, giving you a somewhat teasing grin. My, did you think he was going to object against your cooking?

Jade continues to eat his meal until it’s finished, sharing you a portion as well despite your protests. He’ll express that he enjoyed your cooking greatly; perhaps even surpassing the Mostro Lounge’s exquisite cuisine! Ah, but don’t tell Azul that he said that. He also suggests that the two of you do this more often, he’ll also cook for you as a trade— he isn’t very skilled in such cutesy or casual ways of cooking, but he’ll try to cook something for you outside of what he usually serves for the Mostro Lounge.

Rook Hunt

Rook lets out a delighted gasp when he sees you with a lunchbox from afar, calling out his name. Oh, mon! What has his little bird fetched him now?

A look of surprise and excitement paints his face when you say you cooked lunch for him. My, to think that a little bird such as yourself would cook something for him? The elusive hunter? Le chasseur d’amour? Regardless, he’ll be flattered.

The blonde suggests that you eat with him under a tree with lovely flowers he spotted before. It’s not very far from classes so if either of you needed to hurry back somewhere else, you’d get there promptly— but he’s not opposed to having to carry you back to class! With his speed and endurance, he can run quite swiftly if needed. 

You decline the offer; as nice as it would be in Rook’s arms, it’d be strange to see a teenager with a (girl/boy) in their arms being bridal carried, rushing through the halls.

The scene at the tree is as enchanting as Rook described it to be— flowers in full bloom in an array of colors, the grassy parts of it were all clean and it was trimmed neatly, and the tree was tall and large enough to provide you and Rook shade to sit under. It was as if Mother Nature built this entire area for you and Rook alone.

Rook opens his lunch and when he sees the katsu placed so neatly, sauce put in a small plastic cup to use for the katsu and small broccolis on the side; he puts a hand over his mouth, commenting that it looks and smells wonderful and exquis.

“Oh mon Dieu...c’est marvelous!” He loudly comments, happily eating more and more of everything served in his box. He also spoonfeeds some of it to you, stating that it wouldn’t be fair if he were to eat it all himself, and you deserve a reward for your gift!

After he’s done, he takes your hand in his own and brings it to his lips, kissing the knuckles of it and thanks you for the meal, praising you even more. He also states that he enjoyed his lunch greatly because of you and how he’d like to eat with you more often, whether it be you cooking or not!

Malleus Draconia

The fae is puzzled as to why you requested him to come to Ramshackle dorm at lunch period, mentioning a small “surprise” for him (ah— but it wouldn’t be considered a surprise anymore if you just outright told him, now will it?)

Once he arrives, he’s greeted with your welcoming smile and you invite him inside— he’s just as puzzled as before. “Did something happen, Child of Man? Are you in need of help?”

You shush him and instead lead him to the Lounge and to a table near a lit fireplace you lit and a sofa on the side. On the table was a lunchbox neatly wrapped in green packaging with small lizard stickers on it.

Malleus seems dazed— far more confused than he was before! You giggle quietly to yourself at his confusion before stating that you invited Malleus here to have lunch with you, even if it was just for a short while! You mention that you don’t see him roaming around in the hallways or school often, and you thought it’d be better to make up for all that lost time together with lunch in Ramshackle!

He finally understands your message and once he does, he’s rather surprised. Inviting him here…? He’s shocked that you’d do such a thing, let alone think of it, but it doesn’t make his “thank you” any less sincere.

He thinks the packaging on his lunchbox is cute. Child of Man, what do you perceive him as? A toddler? He chuckles to himself. Regardless, he’s touched by the fact you made something just for him and wonders what you could’ve prepared for him.

Once he opens the lunchbox, he’s impressed by how neatly you organized it and how cute it looks! You have celery shaped similar to his precious Gao-Gao Dragon Kun friend and small slices of meat shaped into a heart. It’s a bit of a simple treat, but he knows how much love and effort you poured into his food and that’s already enough for this dragon fae!

While eating, he mentions how nicely you tidied up Ramshackle dorm. He was only ever able to see it when it was in a state of disrepair and abandoned-looking, and while he didn’t mind the dorm appearing as such, it was refreshing to see it look so homey.

He thanks you for the meal and says that he enjoyed it tremendously far better than what Lilia gives him, but it’s when you suggest that the two of you eat lunch together more often that his heart flutters at your offer— but despite being taken aback, he accepts gratefully with a sweet smile tugging on his lips.

[darkerdeariegold]

I have a sudden urge to know any food related headcanons you have for rumple.

Ooooooh thank you for this ask, I am EXCITED to get in to it.

I apologise now for how long winded this is going to be but you know I love my man and I have feelings about him and his story.

So I’m gonna do food and drink because they’re linked.

Food

As a boy, money was tight thanks to the way Malcolm managed their lives. It seems clear that he wasn’t starving as a boy, but he was a skinny kid. I think that as a child his diet mostly consisted of cheap and easily accessible foods. Things like flat breads (usually a little hard and unpleasant but filling), root vegetables like potatoes and whatever fruits were in season. Especially if they were small enough to fit in to a pocket so things like apples, berries and pears. 

It’s that start that means he’s not fussy when it comes to food. Even when he became the Dark One and had the ability to produce a feast out of thin air - and he did, wanting to make sure Bae never went with an empty belly like he had - he didn’t look down on any sort of food. Food is survival, and survival is what he’s good at, despite any odds against him.

When he began to live with the Spinsters - and did so until his adulthood - he learned what a good meat pie was and that rapidly became his favourite food. It was cheap cuts of meat - because as spinsters they had enough to live a comfortable but never affluent life - but the way it was cooked, slow and low for hours just made the meat fall apart and become the juiciest, most tender cut. 

He always asked for a meat pie for dinner, and because they loved him, they indulged him a few times a week if they could, at least once if not. (They would go without for him and he only realised that when an adult himself).

Vegetables were always a staple of his diet simply because if you could grow it, you could eat it and it cost barely anything to maintain. He likes stews and soups, easy food that you can put any combinations of vegetable in. His favourite is the humble potato, because he knows just how much you can get out of it and how filling it can be. He learned how to bake them on the fire and always finds comfort in that.

He learned that he has a sweet tooth when he was able to begin to conjure food. He already knew he did from his love of strawberries growing up - always his favourite berry to pick and eat - but when desserts like sweet rolls and cakes became a staple of his life, he was a little addicted.

He does, after all, have an addictive personality.

Not that he’d never had cake before - the spinsters liked to make him one for his birthday but a shortage of sugar usually meant it wasn’t as full of sweetness as it could be. Still good, and always appreciated.

Until Zelena’s abuse of him for a year a meat pie was his favourite food, along with a hamburger. Something he only discovered in Storybrooke, as well as pickles. Now, he can’t even think of it. The abuse has tainted what once had been a comfort to him. Now he feels physically sick whenever a meat pie is near him. 

Thanks, Zelena.

He’s definitely not a snob about food; he’ll eat anything really, except for those meat pies now. He likes sour food, he likes sweet desserts. He isn’t one for too much spice (he just doesn’t have the tolerance for it) and the first time he bit in to a chilli pepper his entire face felt like it were on fire). He’s been seen to eat apples, ready noodles and hamburgers on the show to name just a few foods that it’s canon he is fond of, or at the very least will eat.

Though he’s a meat eater he’s used to having a diet rich in vegetables and genuinely enjoys those. Simple roasting of them is perfection.

So his favourite foods are;

Hamburger (he loves the bread in this world, how much more taste it has)

Pickles (he likes sour food, used to that flavour because of the absence of sugar in his diet when younger)

Strawberries and other sweet fruits.

Desserts in general; he has a sweet tooth but has to limit himself.

Bacon and eggs. 

Potatoes, especially baked with butter.

Meat pies USED to be. Eventually he’ll work through that trauma and be able to enjoy a good pie again. He just needs to focus on the initial positive thoughts he had surrounding it.

He loves a good condiment - ketchup, mustard (mild) and ranch. Not a huge fan of mayo in anything more than a small quantity. 

Drinks

Tea is a little different here than it was in the Enchanted Forest, but it’s certainly his favourite drink. He especially loves the way Belle makes his tea; a dash of milk, no sugar and brewed to perfection. Even he can’t make a cup taste quite as well as she does.

He doesn’t have a lot of milk in there, and he never has sugar; mostly because he was a tea drinker before he was the Dark One, and so he was a tea drinker when he couldn’t really afford the luxury of sugar. 

Coffee was a revelation in Storybrooke and, when cursed and needing to sleep each night he found a cup of black coffee in the morning before his breakfast was the perfect set up. He still likes a cup of black coffee every now and then. 

Also likes a hot cocoa- that was always a treat when a lad, and he loved the nights he would be tucked up in to bed with a small cup of it. Leaving him - and his belly - feeling warm enough to drift off to a peaceful sleep.

He doesn’t like fizzy drinks. Doesn’t understand the need for them. As sweet as his tooth is, most carbonated drinks are too sugary for him. The kind of sugar that sticks to your teeth isn’t pleasant to him.

Alcohol is a strange little bedfellow that he has a very difficult relationship with. He grew up seeing the negative effect it has on his Papa and it’s a drink that genuinely scares him. But it also helps to numb things. Numb the pain, numb the guilt. He has a small flask of scotch or whiskey hidden in his shop, a bottle too - always the finest stuff when it comes to drink - for those moments when he is feeling that he needs a support. 

Why the finest? Because psychologically, even if he can just conjure a bottle when he wants, it feels like a luxury. Something to not rely on consistently. If he drank cheap whisky or spirits he recognises that his addictive personality could lead him down a path as dark as his Papa. 

You only ever see him with alcohol when he’s struggling with something, namely guilt or a decision that he’s afraid of. We see him with a flask in the Enchanted Forest after losing Belle. We see him with alcohol in the Underworld. We also see him drink in Hyperion Heights when he’s clearly going through the pain of grief. If it numbs the pain, even for a moment, it’s alright. A small moment of respite is better than nothing. 

His favourite drinks;

Tea, dash of milk and no sugar

Black coffee

Iced tea, either with or without sweetener. 

IF he’s self medicating, expensive whiskey or scotch. 

[lad-of-fortune]

once you’re stripped clean, what’s at your core?

flightless bird

the thought of your found family is what motivates you in your own little world. you touch the clouds, and the soil gives way under your footprints... this is utopia. if you were to erase one thing, it would be your memory. experience is important, but ignorance is bliss. identity, in heaven, should give way to happiness. you'd give anything just to sit by the swings and eat ice cream, but this isn't that kind of world. you have to get up and wash the dirt off of your scraped knees. i think you have an escapism problem.

Stolen from: @flamekeeperbellroc

Tagging: you? :)

[scvrllet]

If you're still doing these, could I get a 🎫 concert ticket for Harry Potter and Once Upon A Time?

Glad to have found your blog!!!

I'm Lucifer, but people call me Luci or Luce, I'm 21 (22 in September), I identifiy somewhere around the nonbinary category, but I see gender as something trivial. I'm a panromantic demisexual and prefer they/her pronouns. 6'3 tall, long wavy blonde hair, black eyes. I wear glasses and usually skirts with old band t-shirts (that I actually listen to).

I always have a bunch or rings around my fingers as well as multiple ear piercings. I'm super pale, to the point that people often ask me if I'm sick.

I'm introverted, but I can be a social butterfly if required. I love listening as much as talking. I never really talk about emotions/feelings but anything else I'mhappy to chat about. I don't really react to things apart from my facial expressions. The lift of an brow, a smirk or an eye-roll will let you know how I feel about things without verbal confirmation. I'm always calm and collected, and my voice stays monotonous no matter what ; I don't stutter, yell or scream.

I'm highly intelligent and very sarcastic, and rarely laugh outloud, but smirk a lot. I might come across as rude and blunt but on the inside I am a softie, just don't show it often.

I love literature (especially classic), arts and learning languages (I currently speak 18). I'm also musically very inclined. I study History and mythology. When it comes to hobbies, I read and collect lots of things things such as lighters, tarot cards, night lights, rocks/crystals and books.

I have four siblings and am the oldest, but I don't really keep in touch with my family that much. I have a few good friends (2 or 3) and I don't even really need much more.

I'm a Virgo, Slytherin and INTJ-A if that tells you anything.

I'm not athletic in the least, but am in good shape. My body is an hourglass figure and I also got a bunch of tattoos.

I have a bad habit of smoking, and usually having a glass of scotch or wine with me (but I never get drunk or even tipsy). I love spending time near water, but hate getting wet. I usually take long walks outside after midnight while listening to creepypastas or true crime podcasts. I love the genre horror overall, yet I rarely get scared. The only thing I'm scared of is being scared if something. And Santa Claus (<-- no idea as to why).

If I were to go on an ideal date, it'd hopefully be something original and not the cheese classics, but I wouldn't mind them either. I just want to experience new things.

I don't really celebrate holidays (e.g. Christmas, Ester) since I was raised in an atheist/witchcraft household.

If I still might add something, when it comes to relationships I'm never overly dramatic. I don't, as previosuly mentioned, yell or really even cry. I don't get frustrated or suspicious easily. If I see any inclination that my partner might be e.g. cheating on me, I ask them about it directly and will absolutely under no circumstanses go through their phone, computer or start stalking them. 

You wanted 3 random things, here :

1. I can't cook shit, I have set spaghetti on fire, cracked a pan in half and blown up a microwave.

2. I'm very unpredictable, but at the same time I like to stick to certain routines etc.

3. I've had my hair dyed more times that I can count with more colors than I know how to name.

Uhhh, I think that's all? I hope you have a good day :)

(🎫) CONCERT TICKETS - get a platonic or romantic ship/match-up from the fandom of your choice (max. two) along with a shirt headcanon

JOIN MY 4K FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

I ship you with....

Peter Pan

- Arriving on Neverland, in hindsight, was a mistake. Magic beans while very reliable were prone to mistakes every so often and so instead of appearing in the Enchanted Forest, you were on the beach of a large island. And what was the most odd of all, was not the strange feeling you felt upon arriving on the island, but the pair of eyes you could practically feel staring at you from the trees. Hoping that it was just an animal of some sort, you walked off the beach and headed to the path through the forest.

- Unfortunately for you, the feeling lingered, following you almost as you walked through the forest. Tall trees lined the path and every once in awhile you’d see some small animals scurry away. What seemed to stand out the most however were the silhouettes standing off in the side, deep within the trees but standing right below the sunlight for you to see clearly. There was four, than five, than six than......only one. Looking at your surroundings, you saw your footprints in the ground before you and it hit you. You’d been walking in circles the whole time and the silhouette was still there.

“Hello?” You called out, not sure as to whether or not the silhouette really was there.

Without a verbal response, the figure disappeared only to reappear a few feet in front of you.

You jumped back in shock but quickly regained your balance as you studied the person before you. It was a boy, looking to be around your age, with a questioning look on his face as he looked at you. “Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I asked you first!”

“And I’m in charge of this island!”

“You? In charge of an island? What is this Neverland?” You rolled your eyes at the possibility. Neverland was a place made up so that kids could fall asleep. Not a real place that you could visit.

“Yes it is, and I run things around here so tell me, who are you.” The boy replied, emphasizing his last three words as he spoke.

“As if, what’s next? You call your little Lost Boys to come prove to me?” You scoffed. To believe that you were on Neverland was already too much and all you wanted was to get home to the Enchanted Forest but it seems you’re stuck playing pretend with a boy who doesn’t want to grow up. A shame really

Smirking, the boy simply pressed two fingers to your forehead and before you could even say something, your mind went foggy and your vision was filled with black.

- To say you got off on a rough start was an understatement. The two of you were constantly at each other’s neck while he kept you on the island, the camp specifically, and didn’t let you leave due to belief that you were a spy of some sorts. Not that he had anything to hide. Not yet at least.

- As time went on however, the two of you had begun to form a friendship. It wasn’t anything big or odd, but it was definitely new. He’d be less of an ass to you and let you explore the island on your own (with some exception).

- Upon finding your out about your hobbies, he would discreetly try to surprise you with materials to help you engage in them even if Neverland’s magic still had some restrictions. He would still try to the best of his abilities.

I also ship you with....

Blaise Zabini

- Losing was one thing Blaise never took lightly. Competitive he was but even with his ambition and skill, it was the mundane things that revolved around luck that often made him lose. Like the stupid bet he made with Theo on whether Gryffindor would win or lose where the loser would have to make a full four course meal complete with drinks for all the Slytherins in their year. Unfortunately for him, he had lost unlike Gryffindor and now here he was, spending his Saturday afternoon in the kitchens and a cookbook Pansy had given him “to help”.

- Blaise didn’t know what he’d see upon entering kitchen. He was sure to see a few House Elves, perhaps he could ask them for help, but what he didn’t except was to see you standing in front of the stove with a pot spilt cleanly in half somehow and a fire burning below. And to make matters worst, you were simply standing there as if you had been frozen.

“Hey watch out!” He called out as a flame went up towards you. Pushing you out the way just in time, he managed to save you from the burn in return of him getting burned.

“Fuck.” He hissed out in pain. Gripping his arm as he put out the fire with his wand before dropping it on the ground.

Without a word, you simply grabbed your wand and waved it above his burn. You seemed to be muttering something, a spell of some sort, as a cooling sensation covered his wound. Looking down, he was shocked to see that the burn was actually healing.

“How, how did you.... Thank you.”

“I was practicing a charm, fire control, but thank you for the concern.”

Feeling sheepish for thinking that you didn’t have it under control, he ended up excusing himself from the kitchen to head back to his dorm where his friends immediately pounced on the chance to tease him for a variety of reasons.

- The next day, instead of going to Hogsmeade with his friends, Blaise stayed back at the castle to catch up on a paper he had failed to submit on time. Deciding on going to the library, sh was disappointed to see that almost all of the tables were taken. All but one in the far back corner. Quickly heading towards it, a sigh left his lips as someone dropping their book bag into the table beat him to the table: you.

“Oh did you need the table? I can leave if you’d like?”“ You said upon noticing him standing in front of the table.

“No, no it’s alright I just uh, planned on finishing a paper for Flitwick’s class.” He admitted.

“You can have a seat if you’d like, I’ll just be doing my own work and you can do yours.” You kindly offered and Blaise gladly accepted. He really need to finish this paper or else he’s be kicked off the Quidditch team so while he didn’t get the complete privacy he originally wanted, he’s fine with this.

As the two of you worked in quiet, occasionally Blaise would sneak glances your way which you ended up catching once.

“Hi.” was all you managed to muster out as you tried to contain the wide smile that wanted yo grow on your face.

Trying his best to not chuckle at your slightly flustered state, he mirrored your smile as he replied with a “Hello.”

[thesunshinebunny]

Headcanons for If Lilia had a daughter from long before Malleus was born who was sucked into a portal after her mother was killed and ended up in another world like maybe fairy tale or magi (we can brainstorm about that), Lilia and company are sucked into a portal and get sent to the same world lilias daughter is in and lilia gets reunited with her and the boys meet there long unknown sister and they all meet her friends.

Uh ... I never saw Fairy Tale or Magi, so this is going to be an Odyssey for me ... NO WORRIES, I'm going to do my homework before writing this and we see what comes out (I chose the Magi anime because I liked the style much more and the mixture of cultures and classic names of the stories) I hope it meets your expectations and I am sorry for the delay.

Kissesss

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A gleaming black portal opened in the middle of Diasomnia's living room. Students running to protect themselves. A greater force absorbing everything in its path. An energy in the form of wind attracted the four most important students in the dormitory. Not even the great Malleus could endure long enough. In a matter of milliseconds, the four were absorbed and transported to wherever the portal led.

The light enveloped them, rendering them blind. There was nothing around them ...until suddenly, they felt the rocky ground on their bodies. Little by little their sight returned, letting them observe their new world; their new magical medieval world.

"Where are we supposed to be?" Malleus was the first to fully regain his senses, ready to explore the sights that now surrounded him.

"Malleus-sama, please stay close, this place is unknown to us and can be very dangerous." Sebek, still weak-footed, tried to stand firmly in front of his young master, preventing him from wandering as he normally did in Twisted Wonderland. 

"For the moment let's take a walk around, let's try to collect as much information as possible about this place and maybe find a way to return to our world"

Lilia raised his head seriously, even though within him was the desire to explore and travel the new lands full of charm and wonder. The four of them set off, walking the cobbled streets filled with people of multiple cultures and diverse clothing. Lilia was struck by the small shiny golden objects and spent the entire journey stopping at each stall and each person at the same time to observe such jewelry.

After a couple of hours, our adventurers were tired of going through so many streets without any success. With their feet smashed and their bodies heavy, the boys decided to sit in the middle of a crowded square when suddenly an explosion in the fountain caused them to panic. The water dissipated throughout the square, generating a drizzle around it. Silver dissipated the water that reached the four of them, allowing them to see clearly what was happening.

In the middle of the fountain, two figures seemed to be fighting with armor and swords that our emos boys didn’t know. People scattered to different sides, colliding with Malleus and his companions several times. It seemed that the fight had been long overdue given the bumps and bruises that these two figures had. But, as quickly as the panic raised, the violence ended, leaving the female figure victorious.

Said woman de-transformed, revealing her native clothes, a long hair (H / C) with golden braids and accessories, a body tanned from so much sunlight and a victorious smile that no evil on earth could erase. But it was the girl's eyes that caught Lilia's attention. He knew those eyes, that sparkle that appeared with every smile…ah, that smile. Yes, Lilia knew that smile very well.

"(Y/N)?"

Lilia's voice spread with the wind, like a whisper, reaching your ears. You turned around looking for the origin of that voice. Like a sailor enchanted by the song of a mermaid, you followed his voice, receiving questions from your companions. In the distance you could make out a small figure, standing out among three huge giants, with strange clothes, but the eyes and his tender smile gave away this melancholic figure.

"Papa…"

The world seemed to have stopped, everything was in slow motion. Your eyes filled with tears and your arms unconsciously reached forward, towards the figure of your lost father.

"PAPA!!!"

Your legs moved involuntarily, running towards Lilia. When you two collided, you merged into a loving embrace, years of being apart from each other led you to this meeting. After so much suffering and crying, after so much pain, you had finally met again.

"(Y/N) it's you? Is it really you? " Lilia ran his hands over your face, your hair, your shoulders, looking for any clue that would tell him that you were a hallucination, that you weren't really there standing in front of him.

"Yes, papa, it's me, it's your little dove"

Hearing the nickname he gave you in the first years of life there were no more doubts. You were there, in front of him; his little girl had returned to his arms. Tears spread and an atmosphere of calm and joy could be witnessed between the two of you… and a bit of discomfort from the three remaining emos and your companions.

"Sorry to disturb this beautiful meeting, but we feel quite confused." Malleus was the first to speak, commenting on the ideas everyone around him was having.

"Malleus? Oh my god, Malleus! " Our horned friend looked just as confused as his bodyguards, who didn’t hesitate to come between you and their young master.

“I know you surely don't recognize me, the last time I saw you, you’re still wearing the shell of the egg you were born in on your head. How much have you grown, time does pass "

"Malleus, Silver, Sebek, let me introduce you to (Y/N) ... my precious daughter"

"Alibaba, Aladdin, this fairy of such a small size...is my father"

[kim-chann]

Hi! I’ve requested a matchup before but I reconsidered what I wrote so I hope I can request again. I’m a 5’8 trans man, I’m bi with a male pref, and I’m chubby. I love video games (esp. ACNH atm), writing, singing and drawing. I’m an INTP. I’m mostly calm and laid-back but I do get bursts of energy. I’m introverted and prefer to gather in small groups, or just one other person. I’m autistic, so physical touch and eye contact are hard for me. 1/2 👾

God, I’m so sorry that this took so long! I’ve been literally doing alot of other stuff like art, playing games, and stuff. So I hope that this is okay. Once again, I’m sorry for the wait! And since you said you requested another matchup before, I hope this is a different character that I matched you up with cause I don’t want to disappoint you lmao.

Also, please send in some platonic headcanons 👀, I really like writing those type of things. 

I match you up with...

Ichimatsu Matsuno!

I know that gloomy people with gloomy people don’t really go well with each other, but hear me out! 

Ichimatsu would feel like he can be himself around, which is a very good thing. At first, he would be tense, a bit nervous around you because you’re literally almost like him. It was almost looking into a mirror. However, as he learns more about you, the more he realizes that you’re your own person and not his twin from another mother. I hope you’re ready to deal with this mountain of this boy, 'cause you’re in for a ride!

First of all, he loves that you play Animal Crossing. Cause when you first show him your island, he immediately became too excited to whip out his own Switch and show you his. Yet, he might become a bit embarrassed because his island is lazily decorated and all his villagers are cats (and even has Raymond!). He’d let you visit his island occasionally, but would most likely prefer that he’d visit yours because he doesn’t want you to see his mess. It’s cute, really. 

Since you like writing, singing, and drawing, he’s all in for it. But don't really expect him to sing cause he’s insecure about his voice. But with a little reassurance and some time, perhaps he’ll reconsider. But for your other hobbies, he actually likes drawing the most. 

As shown in season 2, he’s quite skilled! He really adores your art style because he thinks that it’s unique and fits you well. His style is more rigid and messy, and realistic. So most of his doodles might be of cats and if you dig further deeper, you might find a drawing of you and him together with a caption that says, “My love” with a heart. It would make your heart melt.

Ichimatsu can relate that you prefer to be in small groups or with one person. Since he’s so used to hanging out with his brothers all the time and his only “friends” are cats in the alleyway, it would be a nice change of pace to be alone with someone like you. 

At first, he’d be a bit awkward, fiddling with his fingers and would not making much of a conversation unless you start it, but once as you two grow closer, he’ll start them. Usually, the conversations are so strange because this kitty boy has strange humor. He doesn’t know why, but he feels comfortable talking about whatever on his mind on walks. He makes a lot of corny jokes and secretly hopes that you laugh at them. Most of them are just plain out weird or just dirty jokes, which makes him chuckle, but tell him that he’s funny, and he’ll be thinking about your compliment the whole day. 

Your bubbly personality would remind him of Osomatsu and he enjoys that. He finds it funny how you can be so bubbly but also be gloomy/emo. He likes that because it makes him relate to you even more. It doesn’t take too much effort to please him, so the littlest things to him will make him weak on your hands. He’s at your mercy and would murder for you if you want him too. 

Speaking of murder, he relates having a keen interest in serial killers. I hope you know that Ichimatsu’s favorite serial killers from shows are Hannibal Lector and Jason. Secretly, he calls them his “role models” which earns a scary shiver down his brother's spine (but a laugh to Osomatsu). Since Ichimatsu is quite a smart boy, he may know a thing or two about psychiatry. 

Especially from all the serial killer TV shows and documents that he’s watched on TV out of boredom. So since he relates to your interest in killers, you may want to share a fact about it to him because he won’t vocally ask you. Once you share him the fact, he won’t really say much, but, “Ah, really? That’s interesting...” But on the inside. he’s like, “Yo, that’s pretty damn smart for serial killers to think that way.” Don’t be surprised if you find plans of him wanting to kill his brothers lmao.

Ichimatsu can relate that when upset, he prefers to be alone and would rather deal with his feelings instead of being with a lot of people. So when you’re upset, he’ll leave you be if you want to. But if you want him to stay with you, he’ll gladly do so, and would comb his hands through your hair in a way to comfort you as long as you’re okay with it. He wants you to be fine and wants only the best for you. Seeing you so distraught would make him panic a bit because he has looked up to you. So he’ll try his best to make your day by making you food, offering to watch your favorite movie together, or go to the park and just chill. Anything to see your smile and relaxed body would make him feel happy. 

Ichimatsu isn’t too keen on events unless they’re on his interests. Halloween is his favorite holiday, so he might be interested in a few events that are going around Akatsuka. But for years, he hasn’t really attended them because he wasn’t too comfortable going to events by himself or with his brothers. He’d be awkward and out of place even if he really likes them. 

But now that you’re in his life, he’d ask if you’d like to come with him to go to an event with him and would secretly cross his fingers because he wants you to have fun with him. If you say yes, he’ll just smile and say, “Okay.” But on the inside, he’s cheering. If you say no, he’ll be confused and then ask again, thinking that he misheard you, but once you refuse again, he’ll just hum and walk out of the door, and crumble the advertisement for the event. He’ll be sad, but he won’t hold it against you at all. 

Honestly, Ichimatsu would sometimes be caught staring at your figure sometimes because he finds your appearance enchanting. He’d deny that he was staring at you if you’d ask, excusing himself that he was just daydreaming. Ichimatsu would adore your uppercut and likes his “color” on you, despite it being half purple and blue. He still loves purple on you. If he were more honest, finding you in heels would make him fall for you even more. 

He secretly finds heels a bit hot and would love to see you in them occasionally. Sometimes, he’d be daydreaming a lot about you with a smile plastered on his face. When he catches himself doing that, he’ll immediately feel embarrassed. 

I hope you like it! I enjoyed writing this. Also, I’m gonna go x-games mode to clear my inbox. Cause damn, i’m so lazy that I can’t even write. 

[thaisibir]

La Vie en Rose (Bede and young!Opal time travel fic)

Here’s the fic I’d been promising to write about Opal’s past, based on my prior headcanon posts. Though this fic will explore Opal’s life, it’s all from Bede’s POV. Enjoy!

La Vie en Rose (Life in Pink) Rating: T (for character deaths and language) Chapter 1/10 - Fairy Tale (length: ~4k words) Summary: Bede doesn't get why that loony old bat Opal wants him to be the next Fairy-type Gym Leader. To help him understand, Opal has Celebi take Bede back to the time of her youth. 

(For other chapters, look up the tag “pokemon la vie en rose” or go to my profile)

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Bede thought about making a break from Opal, that loony old bat. Nothing could stop him. She wasn't gripping and pulling him along by the arm, like a parent dragging an upset child through the grocery store. In fact, he fought a hard battle with impatience to match her stride. The oldest Gym Leader in Galar walked at the pace of a Chewtle on a cold day. It wasn't like she could chase him down if he took off. Her heart would probably give out first if she tried.

Before they had set off from the sprawling castle-city of Hammerlocke, Opal had insisted on walking, turning down chances to take the train and the Flying Taxi. The train made sense, since there were no railways leading through the dense Glimwood Tangle and into Ballonlea. But not taking the Flying Taxi perplexed Bede.

"We'll get there much faster if we take a taxi," he told her.

"I'm not hopping on that bloody death trap," she replied with a snort.

"So you want to get blisters on your feet instead?"

"I very much prefer that to crashing and dying."

Bede rolled his eyes. "We won't crash and die. Those taxis are very safe."

"Rubbish. My boy, you have no idea."

Bede gawked at her. More like she didn't have any idea. There had never been reports of Flying Taxi accidents on the telly. Not that Bede expected an ancient fossil like Opal to keep up with news on the telly, anyway. Did she even own a telly?

Opal wouldn't budge on her decision, so they ended up walking all the way from Hammerlocke to Ballonlea. They had walked side by side, making no physical contact at all, yet what Bede felt between them was the alluring, arresting air of her authority and of course, her very strange, out-of-the-blue offer.

He wasn't a Gym Challenger anymore, so could Opal really pick him to be the next Gym Leader? Was that allowed? Opal seemed like the kind of woman to turn her big nose up at the rules and do whatever the bloody hell she wanted, anyway.

She had declared that he had the "right amount of pink." What did that mean? That was the first question he popped just after she had swooped in on him at Hammerlocke, but she refused to tell him, only that "pink isn't a color easily explained." Bollocks, you couldn't explain color. Blue is blue. Green is green. Red is red. And so on. Bede couldn't make heads or tails out of this lady clearly off her rocker.

Chairman Rose had disqualified Bede from the Gym Challenge at Stow-on-Side, so Bede had never reached Ballonlea to challenge the Fairy-type Gym. Though he tried to keep his face impassive, his first visit to the town enchanted him.

A spectrum of colors from glowing mushrooms abound under the shade of towering trees. Some mushrooms were so big that they loomed over the cottages. Bede didn't know that they could get that tall. Burbles of a brook winding through the leafy floor filled his ears. From their perches on the Pokemon Center, a pair of Hattrem tittered at Opal and Bede. Farther away, Chinchou bobbed their angler lights overhead. A little girl sitting on a large boulder played with two bobbing Inkays, and as Opal and Bede climbed the stairs, she waved at them.

"Hello, Ms. Opal. Welcome, Trainer."

Opal smiled at the girl and gestured to her young traveling companion. "This is Bede. He's going to be the town's next Gym Leader."

The girl's eyes lit up and she fidgeted in her spot on the boulder. "Oh, that's so exciting! This will be the talk of the town for sure. Good luck, Bede."

"Er, thanks," he stammered, then as they walked away, he muttered to Opal, "You have an awful lot of confidence to say that."

"I am rarely wrong in the choices I make," she replied. An impish glance peeked from the brim of her hat. "Don't prove me wrong, child."

Though she had a jovial tone, his stomach twisted in nervousness as if she had said it ominously. Why was he nervous? Why did he care? He didn't really want to be a Gym Leader. He hoped to just glean whatever information Opal had on the Wishing Stars, then be on his way. If there was a second chance to redeem himself in the Chairman's eyes, then he would seize that chance by the throat.

Opal led him down a winding path away from the Gym. Bede frowned. "Wait, where are we going?"

She quirked a white eyebrow at him. "You're not living at the Gym. Don't you want to see where you'll be living?"

Bede nearly stopped in his tracks. She was taking him to her house. It looked like the other cottages in town, timber-framed and dotted with cascading plants. A wooden armbench occupied the tiny front yard. A door flap took up a third of the whole door.

Suddenly a Mightyena bounded through the door flap with ferocious barks. Bede couldn't help jumping back in alarm. An Obstagoon opened up the wooden door to occupy almost the entire threshold and crossed its arms. It leered at Bede with bared fangs and through red eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Opal waved a placating hand at the pair of Dark type Pokemon. "Oh, hush now, my dears. The boy's all right. He's with me."

Bede's hand flitted to the Poke balls on his belt, not to send them out, but to protect them. He had a team of Psychic types, after all. "What are they doing here? Aren't you a Fairy type Trainer, Ms. Opal?" He hated how his voice got high and cracking when he gets scared.

Opal patted Obstagoon's arm with one hand, then ruffled Mightyena's mane with the other. "These are my husband's Pokemon. Descendants of them, anyway. They keep good company. Sometimes good protection." At her touch, the two Pokemon relaxed and looked to her with undisguised affection.

Bede tried to relax, too. "You have a husband?"

"Had."

"Oh, so he's—"

"Not around." She gestured to another path with the tip of her umbrella. "If you want to meet him, take the trail to the Ballonlea Cemetary."

Bede rubbed the back of his head. What should he say? "Er, I'm sorry."

Opal gave him a toothy grin. "No need to be. He left me ages ago. Now come inside and have some tea."

"Yes, ma'am." Bede stepped inside the house after her, followed closely behind by the vigilant Mightyena and Obstagoon. He was not surprised in the least to find the interior painted in cheerful pastel colors, shades of purple, pink, and light blue. He felt like walking into a child's dollhouse. Every piece of furniture—the sofa, the dining table, the armchair, the nightstand—looked like it was made for one. Excluding the company of Pokemon, clearly Opal had been living alone for a long time.

As Opal went straight to brewing tea in the kitchen, her following remark confirmed his suspicions. "It's been a while since I've had visitors in here. Mostly because this place has been a righteous mess."

"I...I can see that," Stacks of papers, discs, and tapes were piled halfway to the ceiling, on the verge of toppling over if Bede carelessly bumped an elbow or his hip against them.

Opal set two steaming teacups on the table, then turned to pull a book from the nearby shelf. The thick weight of it bent Opal over and nearly made her drop it, but she managed to heave it over the table and place it with a solid thump before Bede.

"Here, a crash course on the care and training of Fairy type Pokemon. Written by my own mum."

Bede peered at the cover. "By Ruby Roy," it said. He looked up at her with a frown. "You want me to read all of it, Ms. Opal?"

"From front to back until you have it memorized," she said firmly. "Mum made me do that, so I'm passing down the same regimen."

Bede bit back a groan. He wasn't one to sit still and hunched over a book for a long time. As he sipped at his tea, he found her unblinking gaze of intense scrutiny on him unnerving, so he tried to avoid staring back at her by leafing through the Fairy Pokemon training manual.

The pages were Butterfree wing-thin, aged from lengthy ownership but evidently cared for since there were no holes or stains. Bede kept the teacup a fair distance from the book. Somehow he didn't want to risk pissing off an old lady like Opal.

"I notice that you favor Psychic types," She remarked as she sipped from her own teacup. "The jump from using Psychic to Fairy types isn't a terribly big one. I know many Pokemon that are Psychic-Fairy, like Gardevoir, Hatterene, and Galarian Rapidash. You would do well to start using them."

"I already have a Galarian Ponyta and a Hattrem," Bede said.

"Splendid. You'll still have to make some switches to your team, though. Go for a few runs through Glimwood Tangle to catch and train your new Pokemon. But first, before any battles, hit the books." She seemed to notice his dismay, and the corners of her puckered lips twitched upward, though not apologetically. "I'm an old-fashioned gal."

Opal had Bede read through one chapter for the day, then asked him to help her tidy up the house. "We'll need to get the clutter cleared so you can have your own space," she said. "I only have one bedroom, so you'll have to make do with the sofa."

Bede shrugged. "That's fine. I'm used to sleeping in chairs."

She thrust a feather duster into his hands. "You're a tall boy for your age," she remarked as she looked him up and down. "You can dust the shelves that have been out of my reach since my back got bad." She grinned. "How handy."

Bede resisted heaving a sigh, otherwise he'd get dust up his nose. He pulled up the sleeves of his pink oversized coat and got to work. The stacks of papers, discs, and tapes turned out to be years worth of audition material, records of thousands of candidates Opal had been considering to be her successor. She had kept them around for reference, or in case she had to contact anyone she changed her mind about. Now that Bede was chosen, she had no more use for them. Her Mawile proved to be a big help in shredding up the paper and chomping the discs and tapes into pieces in its big jaws. Bede noticed that Opal kept her Pokemon team, along with Mightyena and Obstagoon, out of their Poke balls while she was at home. Weezing floated and puffed in content around the front yard, while Togekiss nestled in the sofa, and Alcremie, due to its creamy body and high-maintenance care, was kept away from the furniture and could be in the kitchen where messes were more tolerable.

"I use the Poke balls only during battles," Opal said. "Just for show, like a stage prop. This may boggle your young mind, but back in the day, I grew up in a time before Poke balls were invented."

Bede paused in collecting scrap from Mawile to stare at her in disbelief. "No Poke balls at all? How did that work?"

"Oh, we simply kept our Pokemon around. Sometimes people kept them on leashes, though I'd rather not do that to my own. Imagine having a full party of six Pokemon and each went its own way!"

"That's crazy," Bede agreed. Weren't Poke balls invented fifty years ago? The remark slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Wow, you really have been around forever." She squinted at him and he quickly added, "Forever sixteen, I mean."

She leaned back in her armchair and giggled. "That's the correct answer."

Bede resumed his chores with relief. That peppy little brother of the Champion's annoyed him to no end, but he had Hop to thank for the warning: "When the Gym Leader Opal asks you how old she is, whatever you do, don't ever say that she's really bloody old!"

Once Bede threw out the clutter, Opal's house became much more manageable to navigate through. Bede had to fetch his own blankets from the attic himself, since Opal was no longer in good shape to climb up and down the ladder. His feet hung over the edge of the sofa whenever he stretched out to sleep on it. At first he was embarrassed when Opal made him borrow her purple fuzzy slippers, but he got over it because they kept him warm at night.

Bede learned over the next few days that Opal followed a rigid routine. At seven in the morning, she got up to have scones or oatmeal with a cup of hot tea. At eight, she went for a walk around town with Mightyena. Because the trees gave protection from the rising sun and kept the place cool and fresh, Ballonlea was the perfect place for a morning walk. Those who didn't know Opal well, like visitors and foreigners, would be surprised to see her, a Fairy type specialist, strolling through town with a Dark type Pokemon. The locals didn't bat an eye at this. If Opal wasn't seen with Mightyena on the trails around eight, that was worrying. By around eleven, she returned home to break for an early lunch of salad sandwiches prepared by Obstagoon. In the afternoon, she would take a nap, go outside to smoke a pipe on the armbench, or read the local newspaper Mightyena would fetch for her. Otherwise, on days that the Ballonlea Theatre was preparing a play, Opal would be over there from afternoon to late evening to manage the stage and cast.

Her current project, however, was Bede. So she stayed at home to make sure that he got situated, and kept the Gym closed to challenges in the mean time. While training in Glimwood Tangle, he evolved his Ponyta into Rapidash, his Hattrem into Hatterene, and acquired a Ralts. As for his fourth Pokemon, Opal gave him her Mawile.

"Though I haven't handed the title over to you officially, I still consider myself retired," she told him. "My battling days are over. You and Mawile seem to take a liking to each other well enough. She's yours now."

Mawile chirped happily at Bede's side. "Y-You don't have to do that," he stammered. "I can go catch another Pokemon..."

Opal waved a dainty hand. "Why go through that trouble when I can simply give you one? Like I said, I'm done battling. But not Mawile. You've seen how she has been chewing away at that audition scrap. She's still itching for battle. She's better off with you, my boy."

Bede had no choice but to reluctantly accept Mawile as a gift. This wasn't supposed to happen. He only trained in Glimwood Tangle to get stronger, and lived with Opal to cozy up with her so she could spill whatever she knew about Wishing Stars. Now he'd feel like scum if he hightailed out of Ballonlea with her Mawile in tow. And something about leaving an old lady alone again stirred up guilt he didn't expect. Besides, he didn't even have time to stop and ask about the Wishing Stars. Opal kept him busy.

It took Bede several days living with Opal and cleaning her house to realize that she had no photos whatsoever. No photos hanging on the walls, or sitting around on stands. Any hints of a past and a family were nonexistent. That baffled him, but he remembered the brief mention of her husband earlier, and he hesitated on bringing that up again with her.

Bede was getting used to the temperature in the cottage. He didn't need the extra blankets, so one day, while Opal went for her morning walk with Mightyena, he climbed up the attic to stow them away. But he forgot which chest held the blankets. He batted away cobwebs as he rummaged through the many boxes and chests that littered the floor of the attic. In his search for the right place, he fumbled in the dim light and bumped into a cabinet. Something flat and hard toppled off to fall straight on his head. He stumbled back and swore, clutching his throbbing scalp. A large oval portrait clattered to his feet face down. Still rubbing his head, he turned the portrait face up with his other hand.

Bede blinked in surprise. It was a woman, a young and beautiful one. Short dark curls framed her face. She wore a white blouse with a large frilly collar about her neck. She seemed to exude a cheeky, almost flirty air, with a hand propped on her hip and a wide grin as her gaze was directed just off to her left, probably at the artist who did the portrait.

"Who's this?" Bede muttered.

A relative of Opal's? A daughter, or a granddaughter? Or could that be Opal herself? Curiosity overwhelmed him and made him put aside his initial quest for the chest of blankets. He had a new quest. He opened up lids and dug into the confines of whatever he opened, hoping to scrounge up more hints of the old woman's past. He didn't know how much time passed. The attic had no windows. Bede got pulled into his new quest like an Electric type Pokemon drawn to a magnet.

After some effort to open up trunks at the deepest part of the attic, he managed to find stacks of photos with the same young woman. This time she posed with other people, mostly with an older, bearded, yet handsome gentleman and a boy with the same dark, curly hair that she had. In almost every photo, the man and boy had an arm around her. The young woman smiled widely, radiantly, through the sepia-toned dimness of old pictures. None of the photos were compiled into albums, for some reason. Bede spread them evenly and carefully on the attic floor, contemplating over his discovery.

"Bede?"

Hearing his name made him jump. Opal was home? He hadn't heard the door swing shut. How long had she been inside?

"Where are you, boy?"

Bede scrambled to gather the photos back into stacks. There were a lot of them. He wasn't fast enough to gather them all. Heavy stamps up the ladder made him freeze and whirl around. Obstagoon had climbed up the attic carrying Opal in its strong arms.

"Bede, thank goodness you're all right," she cried out in relief. "You didn't answer when I came home, so I thought something terrible had happened to you, and I—What are you doing with those?"

Her question cut through the air and made Bede cringe.

"Bede, where did you find the pictures?"

Opal's voice had always been soft and thin. The uncharacteristic sharpness to it now startled him.

"I-I was just coming up here to put back the blankets," he stuttered. "I-I found these by accident."

Opal tapped on Obstagoon's arm so the Pokemon could gently set her down. She closed the distance between herself and Bede with the same unusual quickness back at Hammerlocke, and snatched the photos from his hands. "I forgot where I had these. Now I remember where I've put them away, and I did that so I could forget."

Bede had never seen Opal so upset, and that terrified him. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I'm really, really sorry, Ms. Opal."

Not only did she look upset, she looked like she was in pain. A few photos slipped from her grasp and back onto the floor. Opal looked down at them, then her eyes scrunched shut and her lips drew into a thin, hard line.

Obstagoon let out a growl of concern and reached out with both paws to steady her. Bede tried to approach her, but the Pokemon bared its fangs at him. For a split second of dread, Bede wondered if she was having a heart attack. At her advanced age, that guess wasn't unreasonable.

Opal sucked in a long, shuddering breath, then let it out in a gusty sigh as she looked up back at Bede.

"You want to know, don't you?" She said softly, the angry light out of her eyes now. "I can hear you asking that question even if you're not asking it out loud." She beckoned at Bede to come closer, and pointed at the topmost picture of the stack in her hands. "That woman here...that's me."

"That's you?" Bede exclaimed.

She nodded. "That man is Roger, my husband. And that boy is Jasper, my son."

Bede's head spun from the weight of the revelation. He noticed that there were no pictures of Jasper beyond the time he was a boy. No pictures of Jasper in his teens, or older. "What happened?" He whispered. He feared that she would snap at him again.

Instead her shoulders sagged. "Where do I start? There's so much to tell." She buried her face into the crook of her thin arm to cough into it. "Blimey, this attic is so dusty. I'd much rather carry on the conversation over tea and better air. Bring the pictures down."

Bede blinked at her in surprise. "I thought you didn't want to see them, Ms. Opal."

"I didn't want to see them for almost sixty years," she murmured. "Times have changed. Now you are going to be the next Gym Leader." She rested a withered hand over Bede's. "Not only that, but you are practically under my care, like family. And since you're like family, I owe you my story, because soon it will be yours."

Opal, with Obstagoon's help down the attic, left him with that. Finally, Bede shook out of his stupor to gather up the photos of Opal and her family. For the first time in many, many years, he brought them downstairs.

Notes: On Mightyena and Obstagoon being descendants of Pokemon belonging to Opal's late husband: There's no canon on Pokemon lifespans, so I thought that relying on lifespans of real-life animals would suffice. At least, for the Pokemon whose designs are inspired by real-life animals. I used the average lifespans of dogs and badgers for Mightyena and Obstagoon. 70 years seems like too long for the original Mightyena and Obstagoon to stick with Opal. Same goes for her own Pokemon.

Musical inspiration for this chapter was "Concerning Hobbits" from The Lord of the Rings.

For voices, I imagine Bede to sound like Tom Felton as Draco Malfoy in the 1st and 2nd Harry Potter movies, and old Opal sounds like Maggie Smith as Lady Violet from Downton Abbey.

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Killer Queen - Chapter 9: Coming Soon

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

Warning(s): none that I can see

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty ask to be on my taglist!

Inspired by: A Night At The Opera, various Marauders headcanons I’ve seen on Pinterest, this quarantine business, The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3

Word count: 4.3k+ (holy shit)

A/N: I beg of you follow Ruth's advice on how to handle a record because some people do it Wrong. Don't be one of those people, please. Somehow, she's 16 now which is weird, but not that weird seen as she is literally a figment of my own imagination. This chapter is over 4000 words long which makes it the longest thing I've ever written.

I’m thinking about changing the point of view again. I’m currently in first but I might change it to third. First is good for funny scenes like in this chapter, but it’s not ideal for the deeper stuff I have planned later. Yes, I have a plot. Shock horror. But we shall wait and see on that one. If I do change it, I won’t edit the previous chapters to fit it because I really can’t be bothered.

Everyone, please stay safe because of what's going on and stay optimistic and occupied. For example, I'll have more time to write! It's a scary time but it will pass, like everything does at some point. OK I've gotten too philosophical. I shall stop now. This chapter is sponsored by me calling Dr Brian Harold May 'Clog Man'. This chapter title comes from Queen's 1980 album, 'The Game'.

“Good morning, peasants!” I declared as I quite literally swept into Transfiguration that morning, a crown perched precariously atop of my head, my robe billowing behind me. My dearest courtiers trailed along in my wake, begrudgingly carrying my belongings. How generous of them, I thought to myself, as if they had had any say in the matter in the first place. My loyal subjects celebrated my entrance and I gracefully sat down in my assigned seat, feet on the table, chair tipped back at precisely the right angle. I didn’t want to fall and get a concussion, now did I? Especially not on that day of all days.

Now you may wonder what on Gaia’s green earth I am on about, you may begin to question my sanity, you may finally start to piece the clues together and realise I am in fact, a total nutter. About time you did, if I’m completely honest with you, darling. However, like most of my shenanigans, the reason for all this was a well-founded one, if I did say so myself. For Twas my birthday, my sixteenth birthday to be precise, and that meant I got to be queen for a day. Not as long as I would like but hey ho, it was better than nothing. I had all the time in the world to take over the world so being queen could wait for now. Even better than this temporary monarchy, becoming sixteen came with plenty of hobbies I could now I enjoy legally, such as having sex, smoking and drinking wine in a restaurant. As if the law had stopped me before. Following the law is for the weak and my mother did not raise me to be anything of the sort.

Now as a queen such as myself, it is my regal responsibility to keep up appearances, which, to put it simply, meant to look pretty damn fabulous at all times. Hence why I was sporting a magnificent golden crown enchanted to stay on my head for the whole day and matching robe-cloak-thing. You know what I’m on about. Personally, I was rather pleased with my attire. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for one Minerva McGonagall.

An exasperated sigh from the front of the classroom was reluctantly followed by, “White, dare I ask why you are not in proper uniform?” she gestured vaguely at my majestic outfit.

“It would certainly be rather daring of you, professor,” I replied, without missing a beat. A classic raised eyebrow went my way, so I let out a sigh of my own before saying, “Tis my sixteenth birthday, dearest Minnie. If I have to attend lessons on such an occasion, then I must be allowed to dress appropriately.”

“And you consider a crown half as big as yourself to be appropriate for school?” her wonderfully Scottish voice quipped back.

“Why of course ma’am, you see it’s what I like to call my thinking cap,” I grinned broadly at her before joining a giggling Sirius who had gone to great lengths to keep it all in.

But nothing in this godforsaken world, and I do not say that lightly, could have prepared me for Minnie’s response: “Then perhaps it will do you some good.” She turned to the blackboard behind her to begin the lesson I had partly succeeded in delaying.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well. I clutched at my chest as if I’d been shot, and believe me it felt like I had been, and dramatically fell into the arms of James, as he was the unfortunate soul who sat next to me. I weakly reached up to touch his face as they do in the muggle movies, made a mental note to remind him to fucking shave and heaved out, “Jamie, I won’t last much longer but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What, my darling? What is it?” he asked, faithfully going along with my foolish antics as always, the poor sod.

“I…love…” I whispered before going limp in his arms as if I was dead.

“Ruth, my love, no!” he hugged my ‘corpse’ while sobbing rather profoundly.

Sirius leapt to his feet (I had to open my eyes slightly for this bit) and declared, “What do you mean ‘my love’? Ruth has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on her!”

“You foul fiend! Ruth was the second reason for my very existence after Evans, thank you very much!” James too jumped up, leaving me to flop onto the stone floor with an ungraceful ‘ugh’. I could sense Lily’s annoyance from the other side of the classroom.

James and Sirius both grabbed their wands, pointed them at one another, but instead of cursing each other, they used them like fencing swords. Just before Sirius could ‘stab’ James, I myself jumped up and cried, “Wait!” at the same time Minnie yelled, “Enough!”

Naturally, we took no notice of this.

Both boys turned to look at me, only for me to say, “I don’t love either of you. I love Remus!” I pointed at the boy in question who in turn smirked his classic smirk.

He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an infuriated Minnie, “I said enough! Sit down, all three of you or it’s detention for a week!” Now I was pretty sure she was only letting us off because she was well aware that if I was given detention on my birthday, I would certainly not go. I’d like to think it was because she loved us dearly, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar either. Considering the circumstances, a.k.a. my huge fucking party I had planned for later on, I did what I almost never did.

I sat down.

Not without a snarky “ooooooooh” of course.

Naturally, Minnie wasn’t all that impressed with my reply, “Evans, swap seats with White, please.”

Naturally, I wasn’t all that impressed with her reply either, “Professor, are you seriously going to move me on my birthday?”

“That is correct.”

“Miss, that’s not fair, I haven’t even done anything that bad, we’re all in one piece, aren’t we? Besides, why is it only me that’s getting moved, what’s up with that?”

“You’re not the only one I’m moving, I’m also moving Evans, am I not?” she snapped, not at all pleased with my outburst, “Now please move seats, you are disrupting my lesson.”

I pouted like a little child on the naughty step, grabbed my stuff together and plonked myself where Lily had been sitting, next to a girl who had only started in September, from Greece or Italy or somewhere. I suddenly realised Lily was now sitting next to James, so I felt the need to apologise, “Sorry, Lily!”, I said in a similar manner to a kid who was forced to say sorry to their sibling after hitting them. She just shot me a reproachful look which had me fearing for my life for a second, before turning to the lesson that could finally begin.

Obviously, I wasn’t exactly keen to take part in the lesson, so I opted for attempting to get to know my new desk partner, “You’re the new girl, right?”

I was met with a blank stare and confusion from both parties until something clicked for me: if she had just moved here from another country then she probably didn’t speak much English.

Well shit.

I tried again, simplifying my language but hopefully not sounding too patronising, “Are you new?”

The poor girl still strongly resembled a deer in headlights but nodded, “Yes?”

“What’s your name, darling?” I was determined to get to know this girl, she seemed nice enough and, knowing from experience what it felt like to be the new kid, I felt a strange urge to help her.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, now looking like an owl of some sort. It was at this point where I gave up and just waved her off, “Don’t worry.” If Minnie was as adamant about me staying in this seat as I suspected, I’d have plenty of time later to try and talk to this girl. Maybe when she knew a bit more English. Or maybe I could teach her some? Well saying that I’m not sure how good of a teacher I would actually be. I’d probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

The rest of the school day carried on in a similar fashion, with the usual jokes played out in a more dramatic manner than usual. Fine by me. The end of lessons couldn’t come soon enough but at last, they were over. Meaning I could finally, finally, open my damn presents.

Well, I say presents, but me being the impatient bastard that I am, I actually opened most of them that morning at breakfast. Which involved about a year’s supply of chocolate, a 10-pack of condoms and no less than three boxes of tea from various posh shops in London. And a hell of a lot of magical alcohol, which was far better than the muggle stuff, but we don’t talk about that. There was only one present left and that was the one from the woman who birthed me. I realise that I have led you under false pretences of sentiment towards my dear mother, and while I do in fact over her greatly, this is not the case. It was actually because our family owl, Bob (don’t ask me why he’s called fucking Bob, Rhea named him), is quite possibly slower than a bloody snail and took the whole day to fly from Cromer to Scotland.

I ran up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, which is saying something considering I don’t run for anything, and there it was, laying on what was basically my bed when Kingsley wasn’t around, wrapped in shining gold paper, my birthday present. Instantly I got a huge sense of déjà vu, as I knew exactly what it was.

A vinyl record.

Because what else do I do with my spare time these days?

I carefully picked it up, observing it in the stream of November sunlight coming from the window. Judging from the size and weight of it, it was definitely an album, my excitement increasing tenfold. I opened it as carefully as possible to discover that it was indeed Queen’s new album. Their iconic crest was printed on the front in a loud colour scheme of orange and pink. The title was written in black cursive: ‘A Night At The Opera’. The whole thing, though relatively simple in its design, screamed regalness.

I was so mesmerised by it that I didn’t even see the envelope on the bed until I very nearly sat on it. My mum’s familiar handwriting addressed me on the front of it and inside was a card with the most gorgeous watercolour print of the Cromer Pier which had me missing it terribly. I opened it to read what she had written and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.

To Ruth,

Happy birthday, darling! It’s hard to believe you’re 16 now, I still see you as my gorgeous baby girl! I know I can’t see you on your special day, but half term is less than a month away – you’ll be home before we know it!

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done, and we all love you very much. Have a wonderful day with your friends!

Lots of love,

Mum, Rhea and Luke xxx

P.S. Don’t tell Mum but I got you a sort of magical cactus from Diagon Alley but I’ll give it to you when you come back – Rhea

P.P.S What Rhea forgot to tell you is that the cactus was my idea, I just didn’t have any pocket money left after going to the sweet shop - Luke

I smiled at the message and at my siblings’ additions at the bottom and found myself missing them more than I anticipated. I put on my bedside table, next to the magical photo us the boys and me which never failed to make me laugh. It was of us knee-deep in the Great Lake, around the July of our third year. James had his back to the camera but still showed his face and his lopsided grin; he was carrying Sirius over his shoulder like a fireman, the latter of which was showing his middle finger to the camera as best he could. Peter was mid-fall in front of them, just seconds before face-planting the water. Remus was to the right of them, trying his best to avoid getting wet from Peter’s inevitable splash, his face all screwed up in an attempt to protect his eyes. I was trying to hoist myself up onto Remus’s shoulders, which wouldn’t have been so difficult if he wasn’t so fucking tall, even at 14 he was a giant. The photo was magical, so we were all moving around as we had been at the time. I was lucky enough to have caught the exact moment I pulled my wand out and cast the aguamenti charm, aiming at everyone’s head but more importantly, James and Sirius’s hair. The photo was an endless cycle of me jumping up, casting the spell and being chased around by everyone before going back to our original positions.

I reluctantly turned away from the treasured photo, picked up the album and turned to run to the Room Of Requirement so I could listen to the artistry I held in my undeserving hands. Somehow, my close good friends beat me to it; there they stood in the doorway, carrying my dear record player between them with wide grins on their faces, not altogether dissimilar from the one James sported in the photograph.

I wondered for a second how the vinyl got itself onto my bed, and how the boys knew they had to get my record player, but then I realised my mother must have told them in advance. She may have been a Hufflepuff, but I do sometimes think she would have made a fine Slytherin. Surprise kids, I don’t have a prejudice against the entirety of Slytherin house, just the ones who are, quite frankly, dickheads. Not my fault if that’s the majority of them.

They popped my dear baby on the floor and sat down various surfaces: the floor, their beds, Remus’s lap (*cough cough* Sirius *cough cough*). I ever-so-carefully removed the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it onto the turntable, only touching the outermost edges so as to not get grease into the grooves of the record. Now, I can’t be ruining it already.

“I hope you know we love you enough to carry that thing all the way here,” Sirius whined, mopping non-existent sweat from his forehead using’s Remus’s poor jumper. The audacity he had to refer to my precious record player as ‘that thing’. I didn’t hit him, which is very unlike me, but I refused to sink to his level. Twat.

“Thank you darling but I think, in the midst of wanting to show off your varying levels of strength, you all forgot you could simply levitate my baby here,” I flopped onto Remus’s bed (by far the cleanest one) as Peter repeatedly smacked James with a pillow, “What did I say, James? What did I fucking say?”

Poor James just groaned at him to stop, arms up in a quite frankly pathetic bid to protect himself. He looked at me helplessly, but I just shook my head with a cheeky smirk on my face, “Nope, you got yourself into this mess, I’m not getting involved.”

Sirius, on the other hand, was laughing so much that Remus had to move him from lying against his chest to having his head in his lap to prevent him from hurting himself. I was half-convinced that Sirius was in fact having a heart attack but at this point, I was not nearly drunk enough to put up with his bullshit. Oh yeah, forgot to mention we each took a shot after breakfast seen as it’s my birthday, only increasing our chances of getting alcohol poisoning within the next weekend or so. But let’s be honest, I’m only using my birthday as an excuse to drink more alcohol at eight o’clock in the morning.

A few more smacks and one case of concussion later, we had all calmed down enough for me to play my goddamn record. Suspense hung in the air as the tiny crackles of an unused record sounded, followed by a crescendo of lightning-fast piano. Definitely not what I expected from a song entitled ‘Death On Two Legs (Dedicated To…)’, until Brian’s slightly menacing guitar burst through the speakers. The rest of the carried on in a similar fashion, fancy piano and angry guitar combined with lyrics I could only describe as savage. I made a mental note to look at the enclosed lyrics later on to see what exactly Freddie was singing, as even for my standards it was rather mean. I also couldn’t help but wonder who this was dedicated to and what they had done for Freddie to sing about them in such a manner. Must be quite the dickhead. Maybe someone like Snivellus. You can’t get much worse than Snivellus.

The next song was called ‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ and I couldn’t help but giggle throughout it. It felt very vintage, the singing was distorted somewhat, but it seemed more as if they were taking the mick out of the genre. It was a little thing, hardly a couple of minutes long, and soon transitioned to ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, which I distinctly remembered from the B-side of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. That song will never fail to make me laugh. How a man can be so attached to his car, I’ll never know.

Those comedic masterpieces were followed by ‘You’re My Best Friend’, which I fell in love with within the first five seconds. The adorable little piano, the adorable little lyrics, the adorable little bass, okay I could go on like this for hours, but the point is that I loved this song and would gladly be its friend, were it a person. Yeah, I may have been a tad tipsy, might have had something to do with the shots we took between lessons on top of the one at breakfast. I had wanted to maintain a state of slight tipsiness throughout the day. Moving swiftly on.

‘39’ was next, and it was safe to say that I wasn’t expecting any of it. At first, the guitar made me chuckle, then the realisation that it was just vocals, guitar and fucking tambourine, and then the fact that it was almost certainly a county song about space. Brian was singing, of course it was Brian, and I seemed to have forgotten how talented a singer he actually is. And a songwriter because let’s be real, there is no way in hell that anyone in the band apart from Clog Man wrote this.

‘Sweet Lady’ came after that, which contrasted ‘39’ so much that it basically gave me whiplash. To be honest, I should have seen that coming seeing as that was how Queen seemed to work, a heavy rock song followed by something completely different and so on and so on. You’d think you’d grow tired of constantly changing styles but somehow Queen pulled it off magnificently, as they did with pretty much anything they set their minds to. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, don’t get me wrong it was a cool song, just not quite my cup of tea. I felt a little bit guilty about not liking it, but I forced myself to remember that I didn’t have to like every song on the album in order to be a fan.

‘Seaside Rendezvous’ was the next song and the last one on side A. I found it very quirky and much more to my liking. I could easily imagine myself going for a stroll down the beach back at home while humming this. And potentially dancing to it down the pier. Although I would look quite the crackhead as no one else would be able to hear it; but since when did I care about looking like a twat? I was already friends with plenty of twats, I stopped caring years ago. Somewhere in the middle of the song, there was a part that sounded like an orchestra of some kind, but I could tell Roger had something to do with the woodwind section, which led to some rather interesting images in my mind. Make of that what you will. The tap-dancing part made me laugh because I highly doubted that any of them could actually tap dance, leading to me wondering how to the fuck they did that. My brain also thought it was necessary to conjure up some cursed images of Brian tap-dancing in his clogs. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me?

As quickly and carefully as I could, I flipped the record onto the B-side, which started off with ‘The Prophet’s Song’. I was so naïve to think that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was long; this bad boy was all of eight minutes and basically a musical on its own, worthy of the likes of the West End or Broadway. The absolute artistry of the lyrics and the music quickly made it one of my favourites so far, which was saying something as I loved the whole damn album anyway. There was a good couple of minutes of straight acapella, mainly just countless overdubs of Freddie singing ‘no I know’ at various different pitches; then Roger and Brian joining in for a chorus of ‘la la la la la’. It was strangely creepy, and I had yet to figure out if that was their intention.

That then flowed almost seamlessly into ‘Love Of My Life’, a melancholic ballad that was as beautiful as it was sad. It didn’t take me long to work out that it was a harp rather than an acoustic guitar, I grinned at the mental images of Brian learning the harp for the sake of this one song. Surely if he’d known how to play it all along, he would have shown off his musical prowess much earlier.

Naturally, the next song flipped this whole vibe that had just been created on its head. ‘Good Company’ was its name and it involved a whole band created solely by Brian’s guitar. It seemed funny to me, but I didn’t know why. A bit like with ‘Sweet Lady’, I wasn’t all too sure if I like it or not. I did notice Brian singing again; it was nice to hear his voice on the record more, not to diss Freddie or Roger in any way, shape or form. Now I wanted to hear John sing and we would be good to go.

The last proper song on the album was, of course, the absolute masterpiece (or as Sirius liked to call it, ‘an utter fucking bop’) that was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Considering the sheer amount of times we’ve listened to the record since it came out, it wasn’t all that surprising that we knew all the words off by heart. This was including playing all five minutes and fifty-five seconds of it while James was in the shower, so he didn’t spend hours in there and use up all the hot water. The rule was that he had to be out by the time the song had ended, or we would send Lily the picture we had of him with his hair all wet. And he would die before he consented to such a thing. Trust me, it’s not a particularly flattering look on him. I had to remind them to resist the urge to jump around when the rock bit came on, you know what I’m on about, so as to not damage the vinyl already.

The last track was a guitar rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’, which was outrageous as it was excessive. Just layers upon layers of guitar, I would forever be impressed by Brian’s skills. Sirius, however, was still moaning over his restricted movement.

“But why can’t we jump? It’s so much more fun that headbanging alone,” Sirius whined like the petulant child that he was. I had to give him at least some credit, he may have an impressive amount of muggle knowledge, but he was still a pureblood and a Black at that. He could be so naïve sometimes.

“Darling you have to understand that it’s a sensitive little thing. If you jump, so will the vinyl, which will scratch it and it will jump at awkward times,” I explained, to which I was met with blank stares as if I was speaking in bloody Welsh. I sighed, perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary but if that doesn’t some up my whole life then I don’t know what does, and tried again, “Like with my Sheer Heart Attack record? Where it jumps during Brighton Rock and Killer Queen?”

“Ohhhh,” understanding washed over his and James’s faces because let’s be honest, if you think Sirius is oblivious then clearly, you’ve never met James.

“Yes, ohhhh,” I repeated, taking the mick out of the stupid buggers. Hey, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do whatever I want.

Which reminded me of the party I had planned for later. Well, I say party, it was going to be more of a ball than anything. A birthday ball, if you will. What can I say, I have a flair for the dramatics, sue me.