#also ignore that i posted these nearly a week after art fight was over

[eyesore-boi]

My Art Fight attacks for 2024!

First year of Art Fight for me, and i'm pretty happy with the work i've done for it! I absolutely loved drawing all these incredible OC's, and got some pretty amazing revenges in return, so definitely gonna try and join again next year! >:D

1st Attack features characters from:

@Starbunnixx (/Twitter)

@that-bat

@riverselkiesing

@aqua-tear

2nd Attack features characters from:

@septembershore

@sentientpaperbag

@sakipurin_ (/Twitter)

@s0diepop

@themongusguy (/Twitter)

3rd Attack features characters from:

@snarkyfarren

4th Attack features a character from:

@MalakMalak (/Toyhouse)

@itsmergb

@ctalyst1 (/Instagram)

@d-feng

@determunition

@sir-fluffbutts

5th Attack features a character from:

@Extraanimates (/Instagram)

6th Attack features a character from:

@thearuhodak (/Instagram)

7th & 10th Attack features a character from:

11th Attack features a character from:

Bubblegumberry19 (/Instagram)

8th Attack features a character from:

@iam-unoriginal

9th Attack features a character from:

@cottoncandycomputer (/Art Fight)

@illustrationink

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Spicy plz I’m so bored ;-;— could you grace me with some headcanons for yandere America with an s/o who seems oblivious to his tendencies but is actually just. Pretty okay with it? Like they feel like this is the best they’re gonna get so they may as well make the most of it? Despite my casual tone I’m very okay with you ripping my heart out with angst or despair in any way you see fit <3

Probably not my best work but still hope you like it!

Okay warning ya'll this post is SPICY also it goes over abusive relationships so if that's not for you I suggest that you turn away now.

Your problems all began when you were let into the real world after college. It would be easy, they said. You just needed your degree, they said. Then it would be ‘smooth sailing’. 

Sure. SURE. That was a load of total bullshit. You now had to battle tooth and nail just to have the basic necessities barely. Your future looked bleak. ‘The Dream’ that originally you wanted to achieve: Get married, have two kids, have a house you owned, and maybe a fancy car that yu could show off and keep up with the Joneses. Best them even. 

You simply wanted more time with your family and friends, so you avoided applying to ghost jobs and attending interviews that ultimately led nowhere. You did freelance work like writing gigs, catering, and the occasional art commission in order to keep your head above the water. 

Some days were easy, but most were difficult. Keeping the tiny flame ignited within you to keep you going was a 24 hr 7-day 7-day-a-week kind of job. With each passing day, finding the will to exist was getting harder. 

‘Why do anything if I’m constantly feeling empty?’ 

You felt as though you were on a pitch-black road where your flashlight could only reach 2 ft in front of you. 

That was until Alfred burst into your life in the early morning sun rays that broke through the deep blue-black of the nighttime sky. His outward warmth brought the birds to life and made the flowers blossom. He was the bright person you needed to be around you. Even if that meant you tolerated his sinister tendencies that you commonly wrote off as him being an excellent protective boyfriend in a somewhat twisted way. 

Alfred always knows where you are. He ensures the Find My iPhone tracker is activated and shares your location with him at all times. When you first saw it, and he didn’t even bother to ask or even tell you that he did so… You simply ignored it. He was your boyfriend, and that’s what good boyfriends do…..protect their highly vulnerable S/O and part of that is knowing where you are at all times. 

Things don’t escalate if you’re incredibly passive and are compliant with the rules that Alfred sets for you. You will have a lack of privacy. He gets far more possessive if individuals (s) in your midst are suspicious or seem to be far too friendly for his liking. You become afraid of him when he raises his voice while interrogating you about one of your friends or acquaintances. Alfred’s fist will have made another gaping hole in the wall, which sometimes makes you fear for your life or your family. You would nearly jump out of your skin every time you came home & you saw his infamous frown combined with sapphire blues holding back famished flames, needy for more people to devour if they dared to come in between the two of you. 

Anyone who dared to challenge him on any of his behavior would be silenced swiftly. Most of the time, his victims would never be seen again; other times, they’d end up with some horrific injury or illness that prevented his targets from having the willpower to fight back or squeal. 

You always wondered why it had become much more difficult for you to maintain genuine friendships. You glossed over the fact that Alfred demanded 110% of your attention. This makes it hard for you to have a life outside of him. He also has enforced a curfew on you. 

‘He does that so some creep doesn’t try to kidnap me.’ That would be one of the excuses that you tell yourself in order to excuse his behavior. Besides, how long has it been since you were able to get a date before him? Two or three years, probably more, since so much time has passed since you’ve had a serious long-term relationship. You couldn’t really remember at this point. 

Whenever he objects to you leaving the house, 98% of the time, you employ some tactics when dealing with him. Negotiation. You primarily used this tactic when the effects of becoming stir-crazy have become unbearable. You feared that you would be swallowed up by his home and never seen again. 

“Alfred….” your eyes will search the hardwood floor for the perfect combination of words that will assist in getting you to some level of freedom. 

“I really want some fresh air….and…it’s been forever since we’ve had a cute date on in the park….or going to my favorite restaurant that is on the promenade….” Your eyes cautiously climb up to meet his. You braced yourself for the possible avalanche that was going to careen towards you if you didn’t plant your ice ax in neutral snow. 

“Where I first began to fall in love with you truly!” You blurted out with partially feigned fervor. Enough energy was behind your words that you could see Alfred’s shoulder relax. His freshly trimmed eyebrows were raised in curiosity and disbelief. However, he wasn’t entirely convinced yet. You needed to stroke his ego a little more. He needed reassurance that you were utterly smitten with him. His continued silence was a sign for you to continue with your argument. 

“I know when the last sun rays of the day hit your magnificent sky blues, I know that we were meant to be together.” It will feel like an eternity has passed before Alfred finally responds. 

“Alright, babe.” 

You hear him rise from his spot on the couch & make his way towards you. 

“We can go tonight, but you’ve got to get dressed in something better than that~” Alfred will have pinned you to the front door as he whispers in your ear his other demands he has for you. Usually, it’s that of a sexual nature. Alfred does have you do things like: have you wear a skimpy outfit while you iron his clothes, and give him head while he reads comics or plays video games. You’re not allowed to deny him anything that he asks of you when you work out a ‘deal’ with him. If you do you’ll have to do double of whatever it is along with being chained to the bed for a few days. 

Essentially dear reader you have Stockholm Syndrome. Regardless of what torture he puts you through, you wouldn’t want your life any other way. After all, it was Alfred who brought forth the morning sun in your life which felt as though you were cursed to be within a state of eternal midnight. 

Who were you to complain when he saved you from being on the streets whose jagged teeth had the flesh of the unfortunate on them but always eager for more.

So what if you were a little traumatized?

So what if you sometimes you had scars whenever you did something to set the sleeping volcano off?

It was better than being awash amidst the sea of people who merely became a number to add to a statistical data set. 

Alfred does weaponize sex a lot within your relationship. Not only is it a bargaining tool whenever you are desperate to meet your social needs as a human, but you use it to stop his occasional rampages, get some level of privacy (for example, showering by yourself or being able to keep a dairy without him snooping in it) 

Since Alfred is an exhibitionist & will never turn down an opportunity to showcase his power over you, he will have you do extreme things with him. He’ll demand that you have sex in public with him, like in the park, at a movie theatre, at Disney World on a dark ride, or even on the top of the roof of a government building. If it’s risky as hell with an epic story to tell, then Alfred will want to rail you there. Bonus: he will want you to be butt-naked in the car as well. Alfred will want you to feel every ounce of embarrassment, shame, & every emotion in between that makes you feel vulnerable and powerless. However, this punishment will only occur if you’re stupid enough to try and plan an escape away from him or say something that majorly punctures his ego. 

No matter how much he made you cry, made you bleed after sex, siphoned you off from your support system, and kept you firmly under his thumb… your low self-esteem told you that this was what you deserved. This was normal. This was how all couples behaved.

[bubblyhoney]

Feel free to ignore this if it’s not specific enough or if you don’t know what to write for it but bestie I have been on a George kick for the last two or three weeks now and I think I’ve read every GNF fanfic there is to read 😭 I need awkward yet wholesome Gog content pls <3

first date

warnings: a singular kiss and some pretty awk flirting

words: 1634

tags: georgenotfound x gn!reader

A/N: anon... you read my mind. thank you sm for the request and musings.. i have also been on a bit of a gnf kick fucking Obviously bc ive posted two gnf fics this week—anyways. hope you enjoy and it's everything you've ever dreamed of ;]

requests/inbox status: open

-

“That one looks like my Aunt Theresa.” Your voice rings out through the stale air of the gallery. You’re pointing at an almost grotesque depiction of a woman with half of a mangled pool noodle balanced on her head. George purses his lips, keeping in what he knows will be an explosive laugh. Better to not disturb the gallery monitors with similarly sized pool noodles shoved up their asses, evidenced by their eagle-like judgmental gaze.

“No, that’s Sloth from the Goonies,” he adds, and plops down onto the cushions of a bench parallel to the exhibit. You just shake your head, huffing out a laugh, and fall down next to him.

“I think after this we should go get tamales. I don’t want to go home yet.” You shift the small paper bag from the gift shop in your hands, tugging at the tag’s string. A glance up at him yields a fleeting yet cute view of his blushing face.

“Uh—yeah. That sounds great.” One hand reaches up to nervously tug at his curly locks as the other drops down onto the bench. You imperceptibly shift and stare down at it.

He really does have pretty hands. Long, pale fingers give way to slender and clean fingernails. They shift, lightning fast, and you glance up to his face like you hadn’t just been ogling his hands.

You’ve been caught.

Turning away, you focus your wide eyes and pink cheeks on a particularly colorful exhibit. He’s silent. You can tell he’d like to say something. You waste three more minutes staring around at the art pieces before he says something.

“Uh, tamales?” His voice is gentle, almost reassuring. Nearly apologetic.

“Yeah!” You exclaim, shooting up from your seat like a jack rabbit. He blinks but follows. “It’s just down the street—three minute walk, tops.”

“Cool.”

The whole walk to the tamale shop is blissfully full of chatter and niceties. You compliment his shoes, he returns the gesture with a nudge to your shoulder and a witty comment when he sees two birds fighting for a breadstick. You laugh your perfect laugh and his chest puffs big like a gorilla, proud that he’d coaxed not one but two of those laughs out of you. (The other was from when he made a “that’s what she said” joke in the gift shop; that was a sympathy laugh, maybe, but he didn’t dismiss it.)

“You ever been here before?” You ask, polite and courteous as you hold open the door for him. He shakes his head and steps forward in the moderately-long line, head tilted back to listen to you. “I always get the spicy beef. Never fails.”

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement, and scans the menu. Pork with green sauce sounds delicious right about now— then again, chipotle chicken.

“We can share a pineapple raisin one,” you chirp, sidling up next to him. He nods and tries to ignore how his fingers tingle when they’re so close to yours. “I can order first to give you more time if you’d like,” you add just as the line surges forward and there’s only one customer between you and the cash register. He nods again. The customer before you leaves for their table and then you’re ordering your food, hands pressed to the counter and leaning over to speak to the register attendant.

He orders quick, desperate to get the meal after his stomach rumbles crassly, and steps to the side after paying.

“George!” comes from the drink station and he turns with his eyebrows raised. It’s you, filling a cup with cherry Coke. “Can we eat outside?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, lips tilted in a smile, and thanks the person handing him his food before following you through the entrance again with the characteristic jingle of the bell. You park yourself on a bench right next to a fountain and he sits down beside you, careful to not crowd you too much.

You scoot an inch closer anyways.

You two eat wordlessly for a few minutes, hums and grunts of approval filling the silence as you drain your cherry Coke and he his regular Coke.

“That was so good,” he moans, taking a final sip from his straw before setting it down next to him. You made a noise of agreement.

“Here.” You’re holding up a forkful of the pineapple raisin tamale to him, hand underneath to catch any crumbs. He glances at your face nervously twice before taking the bite and starting to chew. It’s incredibly sweet and soft on his tongue and his face practically melts. You giggle, swiping a thumb across his scruffy chin to catch a masa grain and lick it off the pad of your finger. His stomach jumps at the touch.

“I—uh,” he trails off, staring at your moistened lips. “Thanks.”

You gaze right back, eyes flitting to every feature on his face. It’s like you can’t decide on what to look at.

“Sure,” you say simply, and the moment passes as you look down at your feet. A smile tugs at your mouth and he can barely see it climb over your lips. His eyes drift to watching the sway of the “open” flag at the neighboring book store, a couple leaning over a group of books in the window catching his gaze. They smile at each other fondly, hands locked together.

The sunset casts a glow over his bowed head. The slight evening breeze lifts his dark locks up off his forehead, jostling them playfully. The color of his sweater makes him glow warm, buttery orange against black jeans and periwinkle sneakers.

He really is a work of art.

It’s then that he turns, catching your eye with pink glowing cheeks and twinkling eyes.

“What?” He asks, sheepish grin splitting his lips.

“Nothing.” You shrug, eyes squinted, hiding a secret that’s obvious. “Just—admiring.”

Getting to his feet in a sudden bout of confidence, he tosses his trash into the bin nearby and stretches out a hand for you to take. “Can I walk you home?”

You just look for a second, but stand and take it like it’s the easiest decision in the world.

“I’d like nothing more, Georgie,” you shoot back. The pet name feels right on your tongue.

He shakes his head at it but tugs you right along. It’s west to your flat, so you walk in the light of the setting sun for a while.

His hand in yours is cool yet comfortable, skin smooth like silk. You can just barely smell his cologne; it’s something musky and sweet. But you can’t lean in and take a deep sniff— he probably wouldn’t see you again after that.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you offer, hoping he’ll agree. Couples and friends say their goodbyes at stairways and restaurant doorways ahead of you two. You watch them, head full and hopeful.

“Me too.” He’s still overcome with that initial confidence and gives your hand a soft squeeze. “I of course only came for the tamales, but—.” He jostles your shoulder with a smile. You roll your eyes and shove right back.

“Of course,” you continue, nodding. “Wouldn’t expect that you’d want any of my lively company. Course not. Never.”

“Never,” he agrees, but the tone of his voice gives him away.

The stoop of your flat approaches quickly. You eye it warily, not wanting to part so quickly, but sigh heavily when you stop right at the familiar jagged sidewalk and scuffed gold paint of the door trim.

“So.” You turn towards him, letting go of his hand.

“So,” he replies back, lips pressed together tightly.

“Will you go on a date with me again?” You ask, all sweet and curious, and he tries not to let his heart thump too loudly out of his chest.

“I— Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you say through your smile. “Oh!” You lift the forgotten paper bag up and brandish it. “I actually got this for you. I saw you eyeing it at the gift shop, so.”

He takes the bag from you, eyebrows furrowed, and peers into it. A small green ceramic frog with a pale blue butterfly on the tip of its nose stares right back.

“That’s—wow. Thank you so much.”

“Yup.”

A beat of silence passes and your shoulder turns, in what he thinks is goodbye, so he grabs your forearm.

“Hey—”

“Yeah?” You know exactly what he’s thinking. Your voice is hopeful.

“Can I—Can I kiss you?” His voice breaks slightly at the end, and he swallows the nervousness.

“Yes,” you breathe and your head tilts up subconsciously. He scans your face, hand sliding down from your elbow to grasp your wrist.

God. You’re so cute.

And so he leans forward, cups your cheek with one hand, and presses a firm yet gentle kiss to your lips. You’re sweet, gentle, and you smell like lavender soap and flowers. You breathe him in, lips moving against his, and feel like you’re floating.

When you two break apart, he hovers just slightly apart from your face. His hand has slipped from its place on your cheek to your jaw, thumb pressed to the bone and rubbing slowly.

You observe the details of his face. How his nose slopes just slightly to the left, how he’s got a freckle on his eyelid, how the scruff on his jaw melts into the dark of his hair; has he always been this handsome?

He steps away, swallowing, and drops his hands to his pockets.

“Okay.”

“Alright,” you exhale, trying to not scream or cry or throw up in the same breath. “See you—…when I see you.” He nods quickly, cheekbones blushed red. “Hopefully soon.”

“Yeah. Soon.”

He calls you the next day.

Definitely more than soon.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

[azenkii]

A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

[startanewdream]

Five Stages of Starflower

Summary: James is oblivious, Lily is mostly okay with her unrequited love and Sirius has a few plans about this situation. For @keepingupwithpotters,@sunshine-marauders, @cellularphoneexplosion and @zephyrcove who all gave me the most Jily prompt of all time (“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”) and for @magixbeans (“I refuse to stop irritating you until you give me attention.”). Thanks for helping me celebrate this day ❤

Warning only for a few f-words every now and then (Lily curses when she is upset).

Sirius knows it.

Sirius fucking Black knows it.

Lily had been careful ever since last semester when she started to realize the signs of those things. She’d tried to back away, to avoid more contact despite the fact they had exchanged letters through Summer (just normal conversation, talking about what was going on and their families and discussing their friends – it didn’t mean anything), and that they had seen each other (they just happened to be on Diagon Alley on the same day to shopping, which was smarter and safer—and also didn’t mean anything), and Lily had convinced herself that her feelings for him were entirely friendly and would remain so—if only they hadn’t become Heads together.

There was no way her feelings could remain amicable when she was required to stay together with James Potter for hours at a time, alone in the Prefects Room as they worked and planned, their hands brushing against each other sometimes; or when they would run away to share a hot chocolate at the kitchen, enjoying the fact that as Head Boy and Head Girl they could ignore a little more the curfew, and he’d make her laugh and would help her wipe off the chocolate out of the corner of her mouth.

Lily had fancied someone before, and she knew how to identify the signs, as pale as those previous signs seemed when it came to James. Still, she knew what meant the way she would shiver whenever he’d touched her, or how her heart would skip a beat when their eyes met without planning and he would grin deviously at her or how she would sit closer to him than she needed, just to catch a sniff more of that wonderful scent.

She was falling for James Potter and the worst part was that she’d totally missed the timing in which he fancied her back.

Because all those signs she saw in herself were unfortunately absent from him. James had apparently mastered the art of considering her as nothing more than his friend, because when he’d touched the corner of her mouth—and she had blinked to him, she really had, a blink that said we are alone now and you are touching my mouth can you just kiss me?—James had done nothing but smile nicely, friendly, drawing away.

And she absolutely knew he was treating her as just his friend when the very next week he’d asked her if she didn’t mind changing her Friday patrol rounds with Leanne Diggory. Fridays were the day they patrolled together until late in the night. Fridays were the days where they would go to the kitchen and share a drink and talk about life and it was their moment.

‘Sure,' she had said, acting as if she didn’t understand what his request meant for them. ‘Any particular reason?’

James had flushed then, his hand automatically flying to his hair like he did when he was nervous and after a moment he glanced at Leanne across the Prefects Room. Lily had followed the direction of his gaze; Leanne was smiling back at James and Lily understood even more.

‘Well,’ she said then, keeping her voice carefully light even as a crushing weight had taken residence in her chest. ‘It’s a pretty reason.'

She couldn’t fault James for not being interested in her anymore, but she couldn’t also just stop feeling that thing for him, not since there was no way for her to avoid him completely. So she resigned herself to having a platonic crush on James Potter, one that she administered very well until the day of the first Quidditch game of the season.

Lily had been so diligent that none of her friends had noticed her feelings for him—and she knew that because there was no way Mary or Dorcas would keep it silent if they suspected. She had been careful not to gasp when they were on the grounds and James had been dropped at the lake by Sirius, stepping out of the water and taking off his shirt to dry himself (but she had taken that memory to her heart and lost herself in dreams about him); she had not frowned when she saw James leaving his group at the last Hogsmeade trip to go talk with Leanne, flashing that dangerous grin of his to her (but she had punched her pillow in anger lately, wishing James had come to her).

And then there was the first Quidditch match and Gryffindor had won and in the post-game euphoria, Lily had made the tiny mistake of hugging James and keeping that guilty longing smile on her face when they had broken apart.

That’s when her gaze had met Sirius, and he had widened his eyes in surprise, taking in all that her smile meant—by the time Lily had rearranged her face into a normal expression, Sirius was smirking knowingly, that moron.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He knows. Lily knows he knows. Sirius knows Lily knows he knows.

It could be worse if it were any of other James’ friends, she reasons dismayingly. Remus would have come to talk to her and urge her to share her feelings with James; Peter would spill the word to James, unable to keep a secret from him.

But it doesn’t look like any of these other scenarios is really worse as she sees Sirius’ eyes shining with a predatory look, like a wolf that knows it got his prey.

She considers running away. But Lily is no coward, there is no place for her to go permanently and she believes in keeping her enemies closer, if Sirius could be considered as one, at any chance. That’s why she keeps her ground, pretending everything is nice and not at all bothered when she sees James is near the fireplace talking with Leanne Diggory.

It won’t fool Sirius, but Lily can keep her dignity at least.

And remaining alone at the drinks table allows for him to get closer to her, which is important for her to check how much damage she did today.

‘Enjoying the party, Evans?’

Lily nearly sighs. Nearly one year of friendship with the Marauders told her they only call her by the last name when they are in full teasing mode.

James calls her a lot by Evans, though, but it sounds nice and she rather likes it.

‘Same as always. Nice party.'

‘Oh, I thought you’d be feeling… too crowded.' Sirius throws a glance towards the fireplace and Lily doesn’t need to follow the direction of his gaze to know what he is talking about. ‘Maybe you wish you were at one of those Head meetings.'

Lily pretends to be amused. ‘Heads can enjoy parties too.'

‘One of the Heads is certainly enjoying the party if the party is happening back at the throat of Leanne Diggory—’

She can control her eyes enough to not look in their direction to confirm how literal Sirius is being right now, but she cannot stop the grimace on her face fast enough; it is a spasm of hurt and anger and jealousy, and it becomes obvious that Sirius saw all these emotions when his grin just increases.

Well, too late to still save her dignity.

‘Good for him. Now, if you excuse me—’

‘Oh, I don’t,’ he replies gladly. ‘Why, you seem a little green to me, Evans.'

‘It’s my eyes, maybe you didn’t notice their colour before.'

‘Well, I never particularly cared, but I remember a young bloke reciting that your eyes were pure emerald bestowing grace upon that poor bloke’s heart.'

‘Jade,’ she corrects before she can think better of it. ‘He compared them to jades.'

Sirius’ grin is criminal now. At least, it’s making her want to murder him.

‘My, Evans, for someone that threw a hex at him you seem to have memorized his words.'

‘He kneeled to recite that poem to me in the middle of the Common Room, what else could I do?’

‘Snogged him?’ Sirius suggests, arching one eyebrow when Lily shakes her head. ‘Just imagine, if you had snogged him back then, he might not be snogging someone else right now.'

It’s a fair assumption, but this time Lily doesn’t have to disguise any particular emotion. She doesn’t regret not going out with James before; they were far too different back then. He matured a lot since those days when he would ask her out when he would be so infatuated with her that it was annoying mostly…

Unfortunately, in the list of things he changed since growing up, his feelings for her were included.

That makes her frown.

‘He is free to do whatever he wants,’ she says, a safe mid-term.

‘Or whoever he wants.’

She closes her fists, wanting to punch something; most likely Sirius’ face, though she will settle for her pillow too.

‘Are you here for any reason or you just want to piss me, Black?’

‘Mentioning that James’ hands are all over Diggory’s bum would piss you?’

‘Ah, fuck off, Sirius,’ she says, not bothering anymore to pretend anything.

He laughs—a loud carefree sound that seems like a dog’s bark to warn that something is happening; in this case, that Lily Evans is making a fool of herself.

‘I will leave you alone—if you just admit it.’

‘Admit what?’

'Are we really playing this game, Evans? Let's not go through the five stages of Lily Evans' acceptance of her undying love for James Potter, shall we?'

Lily blinks, fighting not to splurge over her drink.

'I have no idea what you are talking about, Sirius.'

'Have it your way then. I just thought you should know, I was kidding. James' tongue is carefully kept inside his mouth.'

And he indicates the fireplace. Lily looks at it now and, sure enough, though James is still talking to Leanne, he is fairly apart from her, hands untouching, in a friendly stance.

When she looks back, Sirius is not there anymore, but wherever he is she knows he is smirking, that prat. Continue reading on AO3 :)

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit.  “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 7

A/N: scott's pov, finally!! as well as more of my "the empires smp gals deserve to go off, actually" agenda. also check out this rad art submitted by @dancinglifeboat! i also would like to apologize ahead of time, the updates from here on out are probably going to slow down a bit because while i am still extremely motivated to write this fic, it hasn't been as high as it was for the upcoming chapters as it has been for the previous ones. i honestly don't even know HOW i was so motivated to write several chapters so fast that i actually had a backlog of them for a bit and was able to post them daily. so the updates will likely slow down to being every couple of days or maybe every couple of weeks, depending on time/motivation. but yeah! anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: lying/manipulation, threats of violence, past violence, arguing, heartbreak

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

Scott felt just about sick to his stomach every time he looked at the slimeball Jimmy had given him. It was such a stupid little thing to get emotional over, and it was honestly kind of gross and sticky. But Scott couldn’t bear to get rid of it. It had stung more than he cared to admit when Jimmy had reminded him of how isolated and distant Scott was from everything. Staying up and away from the world kept him safe, kept his empire safe. But being safe didn’t make it any less lonely and isolating. And then Jimmy had looked at him like he was the world, and told him that he should be able to enjoy the little things too. Scott couldn’t bear to get rid of the slimeball, even though the memories were painful now. For as much as bluntly being reminded that he was alone stung, Jimmy telling him to leave stung even worse.

Looking back on it now, Scott didn’t really know why he had sided with Fwhip. It was long before Scott had really felt anything for Jimmy, mostly flirting with him to get a rise out of him. That flirting had always devolved into fighting, and it was after one particularly nasty argument that Fwhip had pulled him aside after the meeting and talked about how the House Blossom Alliance would be the downfall of their empires. And at the time… Scott had agreed with him. He loved Katherine, he really did- but there were too many rivalries in that alliance for it to ever truly work. So he went along with Fwhip’s plan- go along with the meetings until an opportunity arose. Then came the addendum of Scott keeping an eye on Jimmy to make sure he wouldn’t be a problem. And then came the plan of rigging the ballroom to explode and blame it on another empire. And even worse- Scott actually caught feelings for Jimmy, instead of it being an act like Fwhip had planned.

So before the night of the ball, Scott had struck a deal with Fwhip. If there was no argumentative behavior during the ball, then he wouldn’t set off the TNT. To his surprise and relief, Fwhip had agreed- and then went and purposefully antagonized Jimmy. And Jimmy- sweet, impulsive Jimmy- had fought right back. Scott didn’t get a chance to pull Fwhip aside and convince him to change his mind before Lizzie had asked him for a dance, then spun Jimmy right into his arms. Fwhip had been watching them the entire time they danced, then left as soon as the song ended, heading up the stairs. Scott snuck away from Jimmy to follow him- only for Fwhip to have flown off by the time Scott made his way up the stairs. Then Jimmy followed him too, and once he spotted Fwhip in the distance with his crossbow, Scott realized he had been used to draw Jimmy out. So he kissed Jimmy, and then Fwhip set off the explosions. It was then Scott realized Fwhip had lied to him about the plan- somehow he had rigged Katherine’s entire castle with TNT, not just the ballroom, and wanted to be sure that everyone knew it was Fwhip and the Wither Rose Alliance behind it all. A show of power, so that no one would mess with them.

So now Scott was alone again. Jimmy felt like Scott had betrayed him- and frankly, Scott had. He should have told the House Blossom Alliance about the TNT, instead of striking a weak deal with Fwhip. Now the House Blossom Alliance would never trust him again, and all Scott had now was the Wither Rose Alliance- which Scott wasn’t so sure if he wanted to be a part of anymore. And at their next secret meeting, Scott found out that he wasn’t the only one with this opinion. Usually they met in Gem’s hidden meeting room, but this time around, she insisted on meeting in the Grimlands, not giving a clear reason why. Scott had thought nothing of it, until the time for the meeting actually came.

“I’m done, Fwhip,” Gem said, not even taking a seat at the table. Fwhip leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at Gem.

“What do you mean, you’re ‘done?’” he scoffed. Gem slammed her hands down on the table, purple magic sparking in the air. Everyone in the room had ranging expressions of shock and terror on their faces. Gem never got angry like this, at least not as long as Scott had known her. Fwhip, however, seemed unphased.

“You lied to us. You said you were going to make a point at the House Blossom Ball. Instead you blew it up! You could have killed us!” she fumed. Fwhip rolled his eyes.

“Gem, you know me. What other point would I have made that didn’t go off with a bang? Besides, Sausage and Scott knew about the TNT,” Fwhip replied with a shrug. The glare Gem sent him was deadly, and Pearl rose from her seat at the revelation.

“I was hoping that maybe Scott was clever and figured out your plan, and just wasn’t able to get the information to anyone in time- but you told him and Sausage?! And I’m not exactly pleased that neither of them felt it was necessary to tell Gem and I what was going on, but the nerve of you to hide information from your own allies, Fwhip!” Pearl scolded. Scott and Sausage didn’t say anything, a little embarrassed- but to be fair, it hadn’t really occurred to Scott that Fwhip didn’t tell everyone about his plan. He had told Scott one-on-one, and Scott had foolishly assumed that he had told the others as well. Yet another frustrating hoodwink courtesy of Fwhip.

“Because I knew you would react like this! But there’s no sense in arguing about it now, what’s happened has happened. Let’s discuss plans for the future, shall we?” Fwhip said with an overly charming grin.

“No,” Pearl said firmly, and Fwhip blinked in surprise.

“What?” he asked in disbelief.

“You heard Gem. She’s done, and so am I. I won’t be a part of this senseless destruction anymore,” Pearl said evenly. And before Fwhip had a chance to protest, Pearl and Gem stormed out of the room. Fwhip let out a dejected sigh, before sitting up straight in his seat again.

“Fine. Who needs them? We’ll be just fine- won’t we, boys?” Fwhip asked, and the smile he gave Scott made his stomach roll.

“Yeah! Now we don’t have to tiptoe around them anymore!” Sausage cheered, and Scott could only give a weak smile in response. Something in Fwhip’s smile turned sharp as he leaned towards Scott with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“You know, I never properly complimented your acting skills. You really had Jimmy caught like a fish in a net. It’s a shame though- you got a little too wrapped up in the act- not to mention him- and we lost a valuable chance to deal with the Codfather once and for all. But that’s alright- I’m sure we’ll get another opportunity,” Fwhip said in a low and dangerous tone, the thinly veiled threat very clear to Scott. Don’t get in the way again, and don’t try and weasel out of plans. Or he’d make sure he’d regret it.

“R-right,” Scott said shakily. Fwhip seemed satisfied, and leaned back in his chair once more.

“Good. Now I suppose that advantage with you pretending to like Jimmy is gone now, unless you do a lot more than just kiss him this time around-”

“No,” Scott blurted, before he could really think about it.

“What was that?” Fwhip asked, raising an eyebrow. A lie about how Jimmy definitely didn’t want to see him again- which wasn’t really a lie per se, but it wasn’t the reason Scott said no- was at the tip of his tongue. But he couldn’t say it. And in that moment, he finally decided to do what Pearl and Gem had done.

“I’m not doing this anymore. It makes me sick to my stomach to even think about bringing more pain and destruction to J- to these lands,” Scott said, voice shaking a little but his eyes sharp as he glared at Fwhip. But Fwhip caught the wobble in his voice and how he nearly said Jimmy’s name. However Sausage spoke up and commented on it before Fwhip could.

“You WEREN’T pretending, you actually fell for Jimmy!” Sausage gasped, and the tone of his voice reminded him of simpler times, when Sausage would tease him about his flirting with Jimmy and Pearl would admonish him and tell Sausage to leave Scott alone. Then Fwhip had taken advantage of Scott’s banter with Jimmy, and brought Scott’s world crashing down around him as a result.

“You’ve gotten weak, Scott. What happened to the imposing, cold ruler of Rivendell?” Fwhip sneered. Scott rose from the table at that, glaring Fwhip down.

“I’m finally being the ruler I should have been. I’m not going to let other empires use me for their own gain, and I’m not going to be part of your destructive plans,” Scott fumed, wings flaring and making him seem taller, more threatening. Fwhip chuckled darkly.

“You walk out of here, and you’ll regret it,” he growled.

“I’ll take my chances,” Scott shot back, turning on his heel and exiting the room, ignoring both Fwhip and Sausage’s voices after him. He was done with the Wither Rose Alliance. In fact, he was done with alliances entirely. He was going to stay in the mountains and care for his empire, like he should have been all along.

-

Then the slimeball on the side table by his bed reminded Scott why he didn’t want to stay in the mountains. He would just be exactly what Jimmy expected of him- high and mighty, being too good for anyone. And being alone. Scott had a taste of what a sense of togetherness felt like, and now being alone hurt more than ever. But there was no one he could go to, no one who would trust him. Maybe he could form something with Pearl and Gem, or maybe the two new empire rulers, Shelby and Joey- but it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing would ever be the same, not as long as the mere memory of Jimmy’s goofy grin sent his heart fracturing a thousand times, over and over again.

He couldn’t stand being within the walls of his home any longer. His wings itched with the need to spread and take to the skies, and flying always made him feel better. So Scott did just that, taking to the skies and flying nowhere in particular, just far away from all the empires as much as possible. Maybe if he flew far enough, it would all disappear and Scott wouldn’t have to deal with his problems anymore. And maybe with enough distance, his heartbreak would disappear too.

-

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[mochamamii]

yandere!taeyong: monster.

part one  This is part two, click the link to catch up!

(a/n: I’m apologizing in advance for how terrible this is. I struggled writing the ending for this and I actually hate the way I ended it but I really wanted to get this out so I ended up rushing it, sorry... :/ Also, in the first part I mentioned that the reader was seven months pregnant already but for the sake of realism let’s all just pretend she’s just now reaching seven months, this is set months later from the first part.)

**disclaimer** This post features heavy elements of stockholm syndrome, self-loathing, emotional trauma, major character death, like the tiniest hint at a possible suicide at the end if you squint.

description: It’s been two months since your abductor Taeyong was arrested and apprehended, resulting in his death after he was gunned down by the police. (This is already super long and I didn’t feel like writing Taeyong’s death scene so I’m telling you now lol.) You return home to your family to soon realize that your life as you once knew it was over.

**

"We tried to leave everything exactly how you left it but the detectives were constantly in and out of here touching things. We hope it's okay."

It felt strange standing in your old bedroom, seeing the remnants of your former life. It didn't feel like your room anymore. It felt like you were standing in a stranger's bedroom, invading their space.

You turned your head towards the doorway where both of your parents stood nervously. They looked at you with anxious hopeful eyes as they awaited your reaction.

"It's fine." You answered.

You could see your father visibly breathe a sigh of relief.

"Well, we’ll let you get settled and then if you want, we'd like to have dinner together as a family?" Your mother hesitantly suggested,

"Only if you want to. If you'd rather be alone, we understand-

"I'd rather be alone for now." You responded as you took a seat on the edge of your bed.

Your mother frowned slightly but quickly recovered, “It’s okay. We won’t push you.”

The two of them quietly exited your room, leaving you to your lonesome. As soon as the door closed you were up on your feet and over to the door to lock it. You pressed your ear up against the door to listen as their footsteps descended down the hallway. When you were sure they were gone and the door was secure, you moved over to the window in the room, double checking the locks.

That’s how you spent the first few weeks back at home, constantly checking the locks and making sure the entire house was secure. It nearly drove you mad as you compulsively checked the locks on all the doors and windows, you could never convince yourself that the house was ever safe so you resorted to barricading yourself in your bedroom most of the time.

You had become a hermit, only coming out of your room when absolutely necessary. It angered you that this is what your life had slowly become. When you were still with Taeyong, you had all these grandiose ideas of all the things you would do once you reclaimed your freedom. When in reality, you ended up doing the exact opposite.

You had managed to avoid your friends and your fiancé for the first few weeks being home but inevitably over time news of your return had spread to everyone. You expected to have people lined up around the block waiting to see you. You were just a shell of your former self, but before life with Taeyong, you were someone that people naturally gravitated towards, you always had many friends.

Surely someone would come and see you, right?  

But truthfully, no one knew what to say to you and it was easier to just ignore your existence than it was to try and engage in conversation. You had been ostracized by your peers. You didn't know whether to be offended or thankful that people seemed to be avoiding you.

Of course, you still had a few close friends that would try and stop by and speak to you only for you to send them away before they could get a glimpse of you. After a while what little people were still trying to see you had gotten the message and left you alone altogether.

Your fiancé wasn't exempt from this treatment. He had tried numerous times to get you to come out of your room and at least let him look at you. At times it was tempting. You hadn't seen him the better half of a year and you wanted to see him badly, but you couldn't have him see you this way.

Not when you yourself were just starting to get acquainted with your new life that didn’t involve anyone or anything that knew the old you. You especially didn’t want your fiancé to see you because you were seven months pregnant now, carrying the child of your abductor.

It was easier to blame not seeing your fiancé on your pregnancy. It was easier for your mind to rationalize avoiding him that way. But you couldn’t lie to yourself, and you knew that it was really because you were certain that your relationship could never be the same once he saw you.

Seeing him, your fiancé, face to face would be confirmation that things were over between the two of you. Your fiancé was always horrible about masking his emotions and you didn't think your heart could take the way he would look at you when he saw that you were carrying another man's child.

You couldn't remember when but at some point, your fiancé had eventually stopped trying to get you to come out of your room as well. Occasionally he'd pop up again and make another attempt but deep down you knew that it was no longer about actually trying to get you to come out of your room and more about him feeling obligated to keep trying.

Spending so much time in your bedroom alone with only your thoughts for company gave you time to reflect on everything that had happened to you in the past year. Specifically, in the last few months since Taeyong had passed.

Images of Taeyong's lifeless corpse plagued your mind. The sound of him colliding with the pavement was permanently sketched into your memory.

You tried everything you could to shake the memories of him from your head but it seemed like everything reminded you of him. Sometimes you'd have hallucinations of him sitting right there beside you that were so vivid you had begun to question your own sanity.

No matter what you did you couldn’t get away from thoughts of Taeyong, you felt so out of sorts. You felt like you were slowly losing your mind. You were finally free of him in an earthly sense, but why couldn’t you get him out of your head?

You grew extremely frustrated with yourself as Taeyong continued to monopolize your conscious, you were so frustrated with things that you often cried yourself to sleep. Sometimes randomly through the day you’d just start crying out of sheer annoyance with yourself.

You desperately wanted this feeling, whatever it was, to leave you. But it seemed like the more you tried to ignore it the more intense it got.

Your doctor chalked it up to hormones but you could feel in your bones that this was different.

You were grieving.

It nearly made you vomit when you had finally put the pieces together as to why you had been feeling so strange.

You were grieving because of Taeyong.

Without disregarding all of the trauma and torture he had put you through you couldn't fight the desolate feeling that consumed you whenever images of him popped up in your mind. Most of all you felt shameful. Shameful for mourning the man that had single-handedly destroyed your life.

You would never be the same person because of him, and here you were shedding tears over him.

There were small pockets of time in which you were able to be completely honest with yourself. In those moments you realized something catastrophic, something that you made you question the entirety of your being. You weren't just mourning him...

You missed him.

The realization only made you ache further. You missed him so much. You missed his voice, you missed his smile, his scent. It only added to your stress that you had to silently deal with these troubling emotions by yourself. You had cut off everyone, there was no one left to confide in.

What would your parents say if you told them that you missed Taeyong?

Your head hurt at the thought of what they might do or say.

They were already treating you like a fragile piece of china. If you told them your true feelings you feared they might think you're unstable and that you needed to be admitted in a hospital somewhere.

In the midst of trying and failing horribly to deal with all of your emotions and stress you couldn’t help but wonder what life might’ve looked like if you had listened to Taeyong all along?

What would it have been like if you actually had tried to build a life with him after getting pregnant?

Would it be any worse than the way you’re living now, the life of a scarred hermit?

Could it be that Taeyong was right along?

Maybe I was destined to be with him..

**

(a/n: I’m so sorry that this is so bad, I really tried y’all lmao. Thanks for all the love on the first part.)

[hansolmates]

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment  w/c; 3.3k  a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse​ and @woozisnoots​ for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right. 

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right. 

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right. 

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?” 

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get. 

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right. 

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left. 

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out. 

Billiam has Super-liked you! 

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam. 

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick. 

Billiam is typing… 

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment. 

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.” 

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!” 

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!” 

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly. 

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!” 

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep. 

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.” 

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?” 

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen. 

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky. 

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder. 

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask. 

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer. 

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off. 

He’s getting an incoming call. From you. 

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard. 

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up. 

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this. 

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up. 

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?” 

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it. 

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.” 

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.” 

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity. 

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?” 

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?” 

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.” 

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?” 

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.” 

“Good night.” 

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence. 

The waning starts today. 

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time? 

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep? 

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe. 

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night. 

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal. 

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies. 

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.” 

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy. 

“Who is it?” 

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.” 

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard. 

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder. 

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?” 

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship. 

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.” 

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you. 

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.” 

Liar. He’s a liar. 

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.” 

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.” 

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?” 

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—” 

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s. 

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—” 

“Uji?” 

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm. 

“Uh, hey?” 

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement. 

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!” 

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away. 

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?” 

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together. 

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down. 

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?” 

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him. 

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.” 

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look. 

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?” 

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch. 

“It’s—” 

“Complicated.” 

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly. 

“There’s things you’re not telling me.” 

“Right.” 

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add. 

“Yes.” 

“Then what are some things you can tell me?” 

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.” 

“Paperwork?” 

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life? 

“Okay,” you finally say. 

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens. 

“Really.” 

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease. 

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.” 

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle. 

[elise-jupiterstyle]

WIP sneak peek: the night’s harboring shade

“Where is he?”

The words escape Beth before she can think better of it. A blush erupts across her chest when Mick pops a brow and fixes her with a knowing look.

And, okay—this isn’t exactly how she’d planned on broaching the subject. She’d intended on keeping her line of questioning as apathetic as possible, avoid showing her hand too early—which, much to her chagrin, she’s managed to do in a matter of seconds—but as soon as she’d caught sight of Mick’s silhouette in the doorway instead of Rio’s, the question had burst forth from her lips before she could stop herself.

This is the third week in a row he’s missed their drop.

“Expectin’ someone else?” Mick asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he saunters over to her. The swish of his leather jacket is the only sound in the room besides the constant, dull hum of the heating system in the corner as it fights off the mid-winter chill.

Although her chances are slim to none that Mick will buy into her charade now, Beth feigns nonchalance, shrugging her shoulders and pursing her lips as he comes to stand at the opposite end of the work table.

“I had just been under the impression that he would be at the drops he scheduled, is all. It’s a little unprofessional,” she replies as she glides her hand over the immaculate surface of the work table, pretending to brush off debris that isn’t there just for something to do with her hands. When she glances up at Mick again, he’s got an elbow propped up on the work table as he leans against it, fixing her with the same knowing look, and she feels herself tense as a flicker of irritation ignites in her chest. She clears her throat, throwing back her shoulders and twisting her neck slightly to dispel some of the tension.

Beth still has yet to grow accustomed to Mick’s perpetual state of indifference. He’s calculated with his reactions, never giving her more than an inch, never revealing more than he needs to, and she despises the way it unnerves her. It’s not that Rio is any less onerous, has ever  made it easier for her to get information out of him, but unlike Mick, he can’t seem to help himself when an opportunity presents itself for him to get a rise out of her, for him to go toe-to-toe with her even when he knows he’ll inevitably gets his way. Mick, on the other hand, has an infuriating knack for making her overshare—feeling like she needs to overcompensate for all that he doesn’t contribute to every one of their brief interactions.

“He’s busy,” Mick responds, his voice gruff and tinged with mild amusement. Beth narrows her eyes slightly, tampering down the irritation that flares in her gut at his vague response, knowing that it’ll only give him more satisfaction if she shows it.

The worst part is that she knows he’s reading her like an open book right now, can tell how desperately she wants to ask him what he knows, even though the odds of him actually giving anything up are as slim as her finding them out for herself. She also knows that if there’s any trait of his worth noting that Rio lacks, it’s patience. He’ll wait her out until she inevitably breaks—will let her interrogate him about the unanswered calls, the unacknowledged texts, the radio silence that she has zero explanation for—and he’ll undoubtably report back to Rio about it like he did all those months ago when he was posted up at her house, ensuring that she didn’t try to flee before her borrowed time was up.

Point is, she knows that she won’t have to elaborate on what she means when she asks about him, but she’s almost certain that Mick will play dumb, drag it out, refuse to give her an inch until she’s laying it all out for him, giving him a transparent abridgment of not what she’s asking, but why.

The true killer is that she’s not even entirely sure what the why is, never mind how she would go about justifying it to herself or Mick—he would know immediately, if he doesn’t already, that this has nothing to do with their business relationship.

It’s not that she’s worried, exactly—her patience for being ignored by the men in her life expired long ago—and it’s not like she’s hurt, either. It’s not like she thought that night had changed anything or mended what was broken between them.

(Didn’t it, though?)

The room is dead silent, neither of them exchanging any words as Beth deliberates over whether it’s worth it to pry while Mick, she’s sure, waits patiently on her to make the next move.

It must be at least a full minute before she expels a heavy, conceded breath. She rolls her shoulders back, straightens up, and plasters on a cheery smile, slipping into her customer service persona with a practiced ease.

“Alright then,” she chirps as though it’s no issue at all, ignoring Mick’s bemused snort even as she watches him shake his head to himself out of the corner of her eye. He finally shifts his attention from her to the dark blue duffel on the other end of the work table, watching patiently as she grabs one of the thick straps and lugs it across the tattered wooden surface.

“It’s all there. Take as much time as you need,” she says, her voice sugary enough to bore through tooth enamel. Mick grunts, unaffected, his gloved hands tugging the bag closer to him and drawing the zipper without another word.

He makes quick work of counting the stacks of red-banded cash—always does, really, which is one thing she can say she appreciates about doing the drops with him. 

Despite herself, her mind drifts back to Rio, wondering what could’ve kept him away for nearly three weeks without so much as a text message when, not too long ago, he obliged to practically every impromptu meeting that she called, no matter the time or reason. The thought branches off in several directions until she’s spiraling, working through the possible reasons for his sudden withdrawal from her, and it feels as though someone is dragging a sharpened blade along the seams of her heart, increasing the pressure with each possibility her mind conjures up.

Then: what if he regrets it?

The blade in her chest twitches before it’s tearing through the seams, her chest lurching as her heart splits wide open.

Is that why he’s been avoiding their meetings, she wonders, refusing to so much as hear her voice over the phone? Did the consequences of letting her in again finally rear their ugly heads, infusing him with the very feelings she feared they would? After everything—the sentiments they shared, the walls they bashed down, the desire they surrendered to—has he come to view that night as a mistake?

The mere thought of it hollows her out until she can feel nothing more than her bleeding, battered heart as it echoes throughout the chasm of her chest.

The metallic bite of a zipper yanks Beth from her thoughts just in time for her to catch Mick heaving the duffel off of the table, his work for the night finished. She watches silently as he backs away from the work table, the straps of the bag clutched in one hand while the other raises to his forehead, offering her a two-fingered salute.

“See you next week,” He informs her, curt as ever, before making for the door.

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond, but she hasn’t a clue what she would say if he were to, anyway. There’s no way to pry further about Rio’s whereabouts without inadvertently admitting that his absence concerns her—without insinuating that, god forbid, she misses him—unless— —

Unless she figures them out for herself.

Beth’s gaze follows Mick’s retreating form to the back of the shop, focusing absently on the taut line of his leather jacket as her thoughts work themselves into a frenzy. She watches him peel through the door (with more stealth than anyone of his build should be capable of, she might add), the blinds clacking softly against it as it closes, and just like that, she’s alone.

The silence lends her some clarity with which to sort through her thoughts until one stands out above all the others, echoing against the walls of her skull as if Mick were still in the room with her.

Art class. You know, pencils and chalk and whatnot?

And yeah, Beth thinks, eyes trained on the door as the clattering blinds begin to settle, the stillness of the night just beyond it encompassing her along with a new sense of determination.

Art class.

[contrabandhothead]

Hi! I saw your post about requests! :) could I get some BOB head cannons of what it’s like to date them while also being is easy company? :)

I’m so so SO sorry this took so long, and I hope you like it 🤞🏻also, I couldn’t do all of them because school has been keeping me very busy. If you want to send another request, and i’ll do more for you when I have time 💕 Enjoy!

Dick Winters

generally very private about his relationship

mom and dad™ of easy co. 

 i want to say that he puts you on his team during missions, but i feel like he thinks it’s unprofessional 

so he probably puts you on a team with someone he trusts and that he knows won’t take unnecessary risks *cough cough* Speirs *cough cough* 

doesn’t mean he doesn’t get worried though 

give this man a massage please, he’s stressed af  

you’d never want to jeopardize his position though, so you’re generally okay with it 

however, sometimes you get a little lonely 

Dick notices this and tries to clear out a slot in his schedule in order to spend some quality time with you 

treats you like any of the other men, except when you’re alone

king of stolen kisses behind crumbling walls before a battle

very healthy relationship overall 12/10 would be an amazing father 

secretly wants to get married when the war is over 

i’m not saying he definitely proposed on V-E Day but he definitely did it 

cries at the wedding, especially since it’s been so long since he’s seen you all dolled up because of the war 

also cries because he’s finally getting to marry the love of his life 

drunkenly told Nix at his bachelor party about how amazing you would look at your wedding and then went on and on about the specific shade of your eyes

S I M P 

Nix never lets him forget it 

Lewis Nixon

this man 

let’s be for real here 

he has NO idea how to display affection at all, especially because of his past 

so he does what any rich boy would do 

showers you in gifts that you don’t need 

it’s not that you’re ungrateful for them, you just wish he would understand that you don’t love him for his money 

i feel like everyone forgets that he’s lowkey rich 

can’t relate Nix

he will buy you anything he sees you look at for more than a second

always has them delivered by some random Private 

the men tease you RELENTLESSLY for it 

“hey Y/N, what did that overflowing wallet buy you this week?”

“Shut up Tab”

is always worried about you 

especially since he usually isn’t on the battlefield since he moved to staff

you’re fine 

you can definitely handle yourself after Sobel’s training what a fucking dick

takes you out on small simple dates when you guys actually have weekend passes 

the guys always help you get ready for your dates (they see you as a little sister it’s really cute) 

Ron Speirs 

this man 

oh wow 

the flavor 

never really got to see you until Dog Co. was basically absorbed by Easy Co. 

definitely thinks he’s not good enough for you 

when you first introduced the Easy Co. men to him, they thought the exact same thing (they changed their minds after a while though) 

REASSURE THIS MAN. EVERY. STINKIN. DAY. THAT HE IS GOOD ENOUGH. 

P L E A S E 

secretly is a cuddle monster

will 100% sneak into your foxhole to cuddle and will slit anyone’s throat that mentions it 

this man has arms and legs like an octopus when it comes to cuddling 

will pull you back into his arms even if you need to use the bathroom and will not be letting go 

steals you pretty things for absolutely no reason (Ron, no) 

the man is like a freakin magpie

the men of Easy Co. grow to like him more when they realize how happy he makes you and how he doesn’t hurt you 

he actually values their opinion on your relationship a lot

he knows Easy is like family and you’re like the younger sister 

doesn’t show it though 

pushes you away when he feels insecure 

jealous™

surprisingly domestic 

Carwood Lipton 

wholesome but to the max™

you’re both so in love i feel like i’m going to throw up rainbows

signed up for the paratroopers together

i feel like Carwood is the type of person to marry his high school sweetheart 

so yeah, you guys are that™ couple

best aunt and uncle of easy co. 

Lip worries about you just a littleee more than the other men 

he’s just a worry wart in general 

almost threw hands with Sobel once when Sobel insulted you 

he will not stand for anyone insulting his gal 

isn’t as private as Dick is with his relationship, but is known to hide it from superior officers other than Nix and Winters

aka Sobel

was 100% willing to get kicked out of the infantry to defend you from Sobel 

thinks a lot about how good of a mom you’d be, especially when he sees you caring for the men

is also a cuddler, though not nearly as clingy as Ron

just a loose arm to tuck you into his side, especially during Bastogne 

prefers having you on his team, not only because he cares about you, but also because he admires your skill and accuracy 

you’re a damn good shot, and he’d scream it from a mountain for all to hear 

so proud of his gal 

George Luz

you’re either the jokester and the stoic couple, the shy kid and the jokester couple, or the jokester and the jokester couple 

there’s no in between 

cracks terrible jokes just to see you smile 

still tries pick up lines even AFTER you two are dating (even the guys shake their heads)

you two are the entertainment for easy co. let me tell you 

you’re also the only person that can get George to shut up 

you must thank him in kisses he takes no other currency 

clingy baby™

it’s like dating a 12 year old boy sometimes 

he can be so immature but it’s kind of endearing at times

everyone is immediately accepting of your relationship because it just makes sense and you’re both good for each other

wants a hug and a kiss even if you’re just leaving the dining hall to go to the bathroom 

just give the man what he wants or he’ll pout all day until you kiss his cheek 

you guys once had a match of how long you could ignore each other once 

he was surprisingly dedicated 

but he broke 

he snapped like a twig after everyone went to sleep

he dived into your foxhole and begged you to talk to him

he kept snuggling closer to you until you talked to him again

Joe Toye 

rough on the outside, soft on the inside  

brings you flowers when he asks you out (surprisingly very traditional and respectful when he asks you out)

everyone has a good time when Toye is with you, he loosens up a lot more 

loves when you pet his hair and he can just stare up at the stars while laying in your lap 

he’s just as bad as Speirs when it comes to cuddling 

a cuddle bug but won’t admit it 

actually might be worse than Speirs when it comes to cuddling because he can actually sneak into your bunk while you’re sleeping 

also wants to fight Sobel when Sobel insults you and actually almost threw hands 

he almost got court martialed and was 2 steps away from getting up in Sobel’s face before Guarnere and Luz stopped him

hands down the dumbest thing he has ever done 

you were so mad at him for it 

you didn’t talk to him for a week 

you felt bad because he was always giving you those puppy dog eyes from across the dining hall 

Joe gets teased by the guys for being sweet on you  

“at least I got a broad! the rest of ya’ can’t really say that much.”

will not hesitate to let you win during arm wrestling 

he’s not allowed to arm wrestle with you anymore because the guys know he’s just letting you win 

you’re his #1 fan during arm wrestling 

look at those arms tho

Joe  Liebgott   

y’all thought Toye was soft 

OH BOY 

the way Joe acts around you is definitely bullying material for the other guys 

Lieb drinks respect women juice 

thinks you’re so cool 

would probably walk up to random people and be like “that’s her. she’s my girlfriend. can you believe how lucky i am?” 

thinks it’s so cute when you show off your brand new jump wings to him

you just looked so excited 

he wasn’t even staring at the wings when you started rambling about how happy you were, he was just making this stupid in love face

definitely grabbed your face and kissed you hard after that 

he wants SO many kids???? 

ya know those lists that lots of girls have on their phones and it’s just a bunch of future baby names??? that’s Joe 

this man has 8 names

4 girls names and 4 boy names 

he plans to use every name 

just wants to live the domestic life with you after the war 

will freeze his ass off and take your watch just so you can get some extra sleep 

another cuddle monster (they’re multiplying)

whispers really cute things in german to you until you fall asleep

has also almost fought Sobel for shit he said to you 

David Webster 

you help him fit in more with the other guys 

please teach him the art of socializing  

yes, the men have stolen his journal to read all his terrible poetry about you

still gets shit for it to this day 

shares his chocolate bar with you 

longing stares but from across the room 

doesn’t actually take you out until the war is over because he wants to do it right dammit 

has little to absolutely no relationship experience

please teach him 

or better yet, struggle with him and get made fun of by all the guys 

they actually accept Web more now that he’s with you 

cuz Easy Co. loves you 

sends letters all the time when he’s sent to the hospital 

everyone teases him that he acts like he’s more likely married to Liebgott than to you

you’re the only reason the men will stop teasing him 

definitely more badass then him 

you radiate boss energy and that’s what easy co. likes about you 

especially Web

everyone’s like “that’s my girl!”  

and he just smiles in the corner with the rest of them 

Bill Guarnere 

DID I SAY SOFT??? 

S O F T 

weak for his girl 

arm wrestles just to get your attention (flexes all the time for pete’s sake) 

also wants like a gazillion children and talks about it constantly with Liebgott

this man wants an army of little Italian kids 

no one makes fun of you or Guarnere for his actions to get your attention because they don’t want his fist in their face 

people who have almost punched Sobel for making fun of their girl: let’s add Guarnere to the list 

you didn’t ignore him, you just told him off for being an idiot 

if i could describe it, he sulked like a puppy that got told no more treats

so proud of you when you get your jump wings 

probably makes a toast about it at the celebration 

he was so drunk but it was so cute

literally will do anything for your attention 

chugging three bottles of whiskey so Y/N will pay attention to me??? pass the bottle bitch

not a massive cuddle monster but enjoys PDA and the occassional ass slap

probably has slapped your ass in front of company before

this boy has no morals smh 

don’t worry, you get him back though 

Frank Perconte 

worry wart but multiply it by 1000x 

is always bothering you to brush your teeth 

not because he’s scared your breath stinks, but because he cares about you and your oral hygiene 

now gets bullied about oral hygiene and his relationship with you 

ft Skip. “oh Y/N, take me away my princess. did you brush your little pearly teeth??? i would never want your perfect smile to be ruined.” 

Skip has been chased multiple times around Toccoa for this behavior 

will fight anyone that thinks you’re not a good shot 

is amazed how good you are at darts (knows you’re better than Buck) 

does share a foxhole with you 

is NOT part of the monster cuddler club because he knows when to stop 

has not arm wrestled for your attention but will if so needed 

always needs attention

whiny 12 year old boy P.2

sometimes it’s like you’re dating Luz as well 

Luz has purposefully third wheeled before 

yes, you heard me 

ON PURPOSE

likes spontaneous dates 

would fight Sobel for you but isn’t stupid enough to almost do it 

Buck Compton  

realized he had heart eyes for you before his old girl broke it off with him

WAS RELIEVED WHEN SHE SAID SHE WAS DONE WITH HIM IN BASTOGNE 

the other Easy men were like “dude, what the hell are you waiting for. GO GET YOUR GIRL!” 

let’s you win at darts 

is also stupid and needy enough to arm wrestle for your attention

actually wins though 

wants you to kiss his guns (absolutely not sir) 

jealous and protective 

jealous af around Winters 

gets teased a lot about it by the other men

but they can see why he’s insecure about it, Winter’s could sweep any girl he wanted to off her feet

indeed a cuddle monster 

will only share a foxhole with you in Bastogne 

no one else

radiator of heat and thus a good cuddler though 

will only let you make fun of him without repercussions 

wants you to move in as soon as the war is over

always demands to be in your unit during an attack

will keep you safe at all costs (and one of the reasons why he got shot in the ass again) 

Floyd Talbert 

THE ABSOLUTE SWEETEST BABY 

 people use to bully Tab for his condom shipments

now they bully him for the way he acts around you 

tough guy??? no. absolute stick of melted butter when around you 

thinks you’re a saint 

so does the rest of Easy though, so I guess it doesn’t matter

they had everyone from Easy give him a pep talk just to ask you out (Trigger even barked at him) 

he was actually worried you would reject him 

no one will ever reject that man lol it doesn’t make sense

not necessarily a cuddle monster

DEFINITELY A PDA MONSTER THOUGH 

likes when you sit on his lap 

can’t explain it, it just makes sense

will also arm wrestle for your attention 

will honestly do anything for you 

you need me to bring you Jupiter in a jar??? 

sure babe I’ll be right back 

has specific pet names for you 

his favorites are buttercup, angel, and beautiful

Babe Heffron 

P U R E 

does not get bullied for being in a relationship with you because everyone loves him

not a single person in this company, including you, would hesitate to sacrifice their life for that replacement 

whines a lot to you when you don’t give him attention

will arm wrestle for your attention and loses

has not had the chance to fight Sobel before but I feel like he could if he wanted to 

will tear Dike to shreads if he even mutter one hateful word against you 

cuddle monster #2323293

enjoys being the little spoon and the big spoon while in the foxhole 

shares his food with you during meals 

will not hesitate to get shot in the ass for you 

also will not hesitate to get shot for you in general 

is like an angry 6 year old baby when you don’t pay attention to him

is known to give the silent treatment when you’re too busy to talk to him for days

MAKE TIME FOR HIM DO IT NOW 

wants you to meet his Ma in Philly after the war 

has many hopeful dreams that include you after the war 

will only share chocolate with you and Gene

give him a hug, even when he says he doesn’t need it

Eugene Roe 

HOLY SWEET JESUS 

FIRST OFF 

NO ONE IN THEIR GODDAMN RIGHT MIND WOULD EVER MAKE FUN OF YOU, ESPECIALLY AROUND DOC

this man has so many pet names 

he is not afraid to use them on the battlefield, especially if you’re bleeding out because he’ll know you’ll answer to them

“darlin’, mon amour, ma mie, ma belle, ma chérie” 

 please stop Gene, it’s embarassing but also like don’t stop

get us a defibrillator his heart stopped while he was looking at you and we need to do CPR NOW-

thinks you’re the most beautiful girl ever

is not dumb enough to arm wrestle for your attention

he just makes this grumpy or upset face and you catch on quickly 

he’s also not dumb enough to fight Sobel

BUT HE WILL FIGHT ANY SOLDIER WITH THE AUDACITY TO INSULT YOU 

is always worrying about you

especially in Bastogne 

always jumping into your foxhole to check for any wounds

probably lost his sizzuhs that way

always has extra bandages just for you 

treats you with tender care

Donald Malarkey 

THE CUTEST COUPLE EVER

NOT EVEN SKIP HAS THE HEART TO MAKE FUN OF YOU 

is not dumb enough to fight Sobel for you 

doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to punch him though 

is dumb enough to arm wrestle for your attention 

it lowkey depends on the day though 

i mean 

he doesn’t need to arm wrestle for you to admire his arms 

like, have you seen that gif of him taking of his shirt???

loves cuddles in your foxhole but is not a cuddle monster

he’s a big baby when he gets tired

loves it when you take care of him 

has definitely fallen asleep once on your shoulder during watch 

would run up Currahee with full gear 3 times just to see you smile

he needs a hug. give him one now. 

likes to rest his chin on your head 

also wants you to move in (and maybe get married) after the war

treats you kindly, but he’s still a sarcastic little shit 

kiss his muscles

that was literally so long i can’t believe i finished

[mintseesaw]

huling sandali 

translation. last moment ⇀ an entry for paraluman playlist

pairing: namjoon x reader genre: angst, est. relationship au word count: 2.2k warnings: themes of insecurities being triggered, emotional struggles, a break-up drabble a.k.a not a happy ending // pg-13

drabble request by @jim-parkin​​ with “pighati + namjoon” hi hjdgdhsgsg im sorry it took me 3254 years to write this :((( i hope you like it. Also, happy belated birthday, alyssa!!! huh i just found out like 10 hrs ago prior to posting this on my first attempt hfdkdjdh im a horrible friend but ily ;-( *unedited

Namjoon arrived home by the time you started packing your stuff. He found you sitting on the living room floor, casually sorting things and putting them in labeled boxes laid in front of you.

You were supposed to ignore him, just like what he’s been doing in the past week. You realized, days of argument after argument before seems better than a whole week of silence in the apartment. The loneliness becomes greater, the glassy tension— unbearable, and his passive treatment more than anything else, hurts you the most.

You couldn’t look at him, having no will to possibly see the indifference on his face while he watches you gradually removing your traces in his place.

As seconds turn minutes since the distinct click of the door closing snaps shut, you took notice of the prolonged silence without the tap of the heels of his black shoes on the granite floor resonating through the living room. With your curiosity suddenly distracting you out of your focus, your head tilted on your side to peek behind you.

There he was, standing so tall and so formal with a frown on his face. His eyes shone not because of the lenses of his glasses but from the unshed tears on his eyes. When your gazes met, he was quick to crane his neck to the opposite side.

You open your mouth to call him to gather his attention. But he was already walking away out of the living room.

It’s been a whole week since you told him you’ll move out. He perfectly understood the implication of it. He objected, tried to convince you not to leave. When his attempts went futile, he did stop trying. Then fostered the silence between the two of you.

He avoided you while you try to make things right by keeping the break up somewhat acceptable on both terms. His refusal to speak with you seemed to convince you that, somehow, he had given up, silently giving you the signal to proceed on your plans.

Half an hour later, you began emptying half of the wardrobe in the walk-in closet. Coincidentally, he was in the shower at the time. After work, he’d routinely clean himself up before he rests or eats dinner with you. However, he stopped taking meals with you nor stayed in the bedroom to read the day you broke the word to him. With his persistence to avoid your presence, you’re almost sure he would let you be in peace while you packed the last bit of your clothes from the closet.

You’re supposed to leave days ago. The tenant of the apartment complex you found weeks prior has been non stop bugging you to move in.

However, you cannot just leave without a proper goodbye to him. In fact, he should be the one leaving you, not the other way around. But he couldn’t do that. Because he owns this place just as much as he owns nearly everything here including your heart.

Namjoon would never ask you to leave, even if he wants you to. That’s how much goodness there is in him. You just happened to take advantage of it and live comfortably by his side.

With your emotions at bay, a silent tear spid down your cheeks, leaving a dot of patch on the fabric of your folded clothes as you fill up your luggage on the bed.

Mere seconds later just as you hear the bathroom door opening, you feel the familiar, strong arms snaked over your waist from behind making you still instantaneously on the spot.

“Namjoon—“

“Don’t… don’t leave.” He says to you for the first time in a week.

His wet hair quickly drenches the spot on your shoulder where he laid his forehead.

Squeezing his hand pressed on your stomach, you smile weakly without facing him. “We talked about this.”

You felt his forehead grazing your shoulder blade as he shakes his head, “I don’t agree with this.”

“We both need this. We need to give each other time to breathe.” You murmur under your breath, nearly admitting the real reason behind your decision. That you knew. You knew he was suffering, and he was trying not to show it to you.

“I don’t need it if you’re not with me.” Namjoon says back, the grip of his arms around tightening.

Sighing, “You’re smarter than me, Joon. You know it’s been tough for the both of us. You’ve been so patient with me and I know you’re getting tired.”

“We can s-still make this work. Fighting is normal. Arguments allow us to speak of our minds. We learn but we move on from it because we love each other.”

“We tried, Joon. So many times. So many times that there’s nothing left of me but doubts and insecurities.”

Namjoon plants a subtle kiss on the side of your head. You remained pliant to his embrace, almost not wanting for him to let you go. For him to insist his place in your life despite your determination to fulfill what you need to do.

“I can wait until you’re ready to love yourself, again.” He attempts once more. He’s always honest with his thoughts so you know he’s sincere when he speaks his heart out.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Then tell me what I should do, please don’t give up just yet.”

His words are like a twisting fire of a knife in your chest, slithering your heart apart and burning the shreds into ashes. The room suddenly feels suffocating and stiff.

Disentangling his arms around your waist, you turn to finally face him. If you’re not only so emotionally invested with the confrontation, you could have stared at him and let your eyes admire every detail on his face until he shies away from your peer that cheeks bloom with crimson tint. Just like the old times.

But your chances have run out, moments have fleeted, your time with him is almost over. Your palms harshly wiping wet traces on your cheeks, refusing to cry in front of him. With a tilt of your chin up, he struck you with his sorrowful, pleading eyes.

“Do you really want someone like me? Someone who depends on you— financially, physically, emotionally? You meet a lot of successful women and I fear that I’m not gonna be enough for you. Joon, I’ll always worry and pick up fights with you.”

Tears brimmed on his eyes, shaking his head to stress his disagreement. “You are more than enough for me. I didn’t love you because of what you have. I fell in love with you because of what’s in here,” he points at your chest.

“Why, it’s you who has a pure soul. You have everything a man could have asked for. Any woman would fall at your feet to earn your attention,” your voice deteriorating as your head falling in morose, suddenly losing the ability to hold his stare with the facade of a strength you’re putting up. “You know, I’m so lucky to have you. I’ve always told you that. But now, things changed. You’re suffering because of me. It’s how I realized I have to let you go because I want you to be happy, again.”

He gathers your face with his palms, forcing you to look at him. “No, no, no. That’s not true. You make me happy.. Please, stop this, you’re everything to me…”

His warm breaths fanning your skin with his heavy, calculated breathing.

“It’s me,” you pause, “You’ve taught me how to love but I chose the wrong way, I loved you too much than what I’m capable of giving. Now I’m lost and I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

He inches his face closer until his nose is touching your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I didn’t mean to change you. I thought I was doing the right thing for you. I want you to dream, I want to see you soar high with your chosen profession. Please, baby don’t leave me. We could fix this.”

No, he was getting the wrong impressions. You didn’t regret going back to college when he pleaded you to. You didn’t regret setting aside your passion for art to continue the education you once took up before you left ran away from home. None of the ugly thoughts poisoning your mind were his doing. It was you and your insecurities.

“It’s not your fault. You saved me, remember? I met you at the time I was drowning in grief. Then I started dreaming. And the day you confessed your feelings to me, you made my dream come true. That was more than enough for me, Joon. Every inch of you became my happiness and it pains me to see I’m the one making you suffer.”

“Listen to me, _____. You make me happy. There’s no perfect relationship. But you’re perfect to me. You’ve always kept me grounded, made me think of my future, made me thrive for our future. No woman has had me at my worst, they only want the good things in life. You’ve been through tough times. But the kindness in your heart remains immeasurable, do you hear me? You deserve everything I have offered and so much more, baby.”

His thumbs patiently brushing the tears away.

“I can’t keep dragging you with my downfall.”

“I don’t want us fighting but sometimes, it gets out of hand. I stay at an arm’s length but it doesn’t mean I want you gone. Because at the end of the day, I’d want to go home to you even when we’re not okay.”

Your eyes fluttered close, not bearing to see the tears free-flowing on his cheeks. Namjoon rarely cries in front of you. Even before when you were purposely trying to aim his heart with your sharp words, nothing could seem to break him down. It’s always you who’s end up losing. Crying.

Silence filled the air for a moment until you heard him shifted. Then you felt a pressure on the side of your thighs and when you caught up what he did, your knees almost gave out.

“Namjoon— w-what are you doing? Stand up!”

His fingers dug deep on the skin of your thighs, head hung long, “Don't leave,” he begs.

“No, stand up!” You sob in disbelief. He couldn’t do this when you should be the one begging for forgiveness for failing him.

Hurriedly, you shuffled on your knees, fisting his shirt as you sobbed on his chest.

His arms gave you warmth as they enveloped over your back. As the room starts to drown with your muffled cries, he cups your face and in a matter of second, Namjoon’s lips are on yours, swallowing your sobs and murmuring sweet I love you’s while keeping your connected lips with his.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours, your insides are a mess, dreading for the end of this moment. With his concern to your plan, he refuses to loosen his hold on you. Even when you urged him to lie down on the bed with you, he didn’t move not until you tugged his body down beside you.

The rhythmic brushes of your fingers on his hair have calmed him down but with his arm secured over your back. It was only when he finally fell asleep when the grip of his arm loosens.

It’s been hours. You haven’t gotten a wink of sleep, and the sun will soon rise in a matter of an hour or two.

It doesn’t resolve the issue. It won’t because you know the next day, things will be the same. Same insecurities will eat you up alive until you burst your anger at him. And then the fight starts, arguments will inevitably tear you two apart. It’s an unending cycle of toxicity that not even yourself can control. Not until you allow yourself to heal.

Until then, you deem yourself unworthy of his love.

You need to leave before he wakes up. You know, it wouldn’t take long before you regret your decision.

“Meeting you was the best thing that happened in my life. I’m sorry for failing you, for failing myself. I hope,” you choke as a lump forms in your throat, “... you’ll be proud of me when I get better even when you have found someone else.” You ended your parting words with your lips pressing gently on the back of his hand.

Your shoulders slightly shake, your hands tremble as sobs threaten to break from your throat.

Your thumb carefully caresses his knuckles, watching him sleep so peacefully with your blurry vision. Suddenly, you couldn’t find the strength in you to pull yourself up.

“Why is it so hard to leave?” You whisper, looking at his sleeping figure.

He is your strength. Your happiness. The owner of your heart. Your dream come true. Someday, you’ll return and take your heart back from him. But for now, you’ll have to start living without it.

With one last look, you stood up with all your might and let the tears fall mercilessly as you fought back the urge to run back to him.

~~~

That moment still remains vivid in your mind, as fresh as the wound in your heart a year later. If you could only turn back the time, you wish he was awake to stop you from leaving. Now, all you could do is watch him from afar at his favorite coffee shop with someone else. The same one he used to take you at. He looks genuinely happy. At least, the break up did him good.

Every time you stood up from your seat to leave, you keep reminding yourself it’s the last time you’ll hope for your paths to cross. Somehow when the pain gets too much to bear, you always find yourself coming back here. Hoping. For another chance. You have the answer to that now. Someone else has already taken your place in his heart.

Inside the coffee shop, the girl sitting across him huffs while watching you walk away out of the establishment. She shifts her gaze to the man in front of her whose attention has speechlessly zeroed in on your figure through the glass walls.

“When will you actually start talking to the girl? You’ve been dragging me here for over a month now. My time is precious, Kim. It’s so obvious you’re smitten for her!” She glares.

Namjoon didn’t answer, only because he doesn’t know how. How do I win her back?

mintseesaw © 2020

[cutest-bug]

Interview with Adrien Agreste! Subject: The Oxygen Project.

Conducted by Alya Cesaire

Ok so I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this addition to a post I made on my main blog about Adrien low key trashing the Agreste brand the way Robert Pattinson does Twilight. I know it was meant to be more of a goofy idea but my head is full of angst and this is what I came up with at 4 a.m. lol.

Alya smiles warmly as Adrien settles into the seat across from her.

“Are you ready?” She asks. He gives her a slightly nervous smile but nods. She nods to Nino who hits record and Adriens face immediately smoothes over into a pleasant and unreadable mask. It’s actually a little freaky to watch.

It’s a Monday afternoon and they’re set up in the art room during their lunch period. Adrien looks as perfectly neutral as always. Non flashy designer labels and tousled hair that probably took 20 minutes to style. For once though, his actions will be a little less perfect and easy to swallow.

“Hi Adrien, thanks for agreeing to an interview on the Ladyblog, I’m glad we could finally do this.”

He smiles and considers for a moment before answering, tiling his head a degree, “The pleasure is mine Alya, especially since I’m the one who approached you about doing this.”

That’s true. Right after the class joined Mylene and Ivan for their protest of the Oxygen Project Adrien asked to speak with her. He was upset that he had been tricked into modeling for the project without knowing what it was for. While most of his die hard fans had gotten wind he didn’t support it, he wanted to farther remedy the situation and use his position to reach a wider audience. Of course there weren’t many platforms he could do that on behind his fathers back, hence asking for Alya’s help.

“Still, I know interviews aren’t your favorite. Otherwise I probably would have asked you a while ago.”

Adrien smiled again, a little more genuinely (the one she knew Marinette was so fond of), “I don’t really like probing questions from journalists about my personal life. The fact that you’ve never asked or taken advantage of knowing me means a lot. I trust you.”

“Personally I think it’s a little crazy you have to do all of those interviews at all. You’re only 15, your life shouldn’t be so public.”

Adrien lets the smile fall several degrees. It’s deliberate, he’s letting people see his discomfort, “Well, it kind of goes hand and hand with all of the modeling. I’m the face of the Agreste brand.”

Alya nods and looks down at the papers in her lap, “Which is the point of our interview today, really.” They had agreed on what was and wasn’t to be talked about before hand, however they don’t have a planned out dialogue. They agreed that they both do well with more organic conversation, and it’s important the interview comes off as very genuine.

Adrien nods in agreement and Alya continues, “Now that the plan for the Oxygen Project is officially canceled, it’s time to clear up what your involvement with the promotion of it was. Nearly everyone in Paris saw the ads that ran.” Unfortunately it had been to late for Mayor Bourgeois to cancel the first few days of ads. For nearly a week Adriens face played on every television in the city, telling everyone about what a great breath of fresh air the project would be.

Alya hands him the first photo in her lap. It’s of him with the class after they first arrived at the protest, looking interested but not particularly emotional yet. It’s from the video that she filmed, but there was a pretty low view rate on the protest coverage. The interview with Adrien will probably get anywhere from 3 to 5 times as many.

“What not everyone realizes is that you were present during the planned tree cutting ceremony and following protest. So what was going on for you at this point in the day Adrien?”

“Our whole class had just gone to the park to support Mylene and Ivan, our friends who lead the protest. Right after we arrived Mylene started arguing with the Mayor about whether the project was good for the environment or not.”

“That girl has a hidden fire!” Alya adds, “I have a section dedicated to activism on the blog now. The video from the whole day is there but I also posted some smaller segments explaining the conflict and a few more that Mylene recommended on how to get involved.”

Adrien gave his most genuine smile yet, “I watched those! I hope your viewers take the time to check them out. I know the super hero fights are exciting, I mean I’ve been glued to your blog from the start, but I’m glad people like Mylene and Ivan are reminding us to keep our eyes on the big picture too.”

Alya nods, “So am I. Ok, it was during this argument that the ad was first shown correct?”

Adrien lets the smile fall completely this time, “Yes. Apparently the plan was always to air it for the first time during the tree cutting ceremony. It was also the first time I’d seen it.”

“I’m sure most of our viewers have seen it already, so I’m not going to play it now,” Adrien shoots her a grateful look, “Adrien, she says kindly, “I remember how surprised you were when the ad played. Do you want to tell everyone why?”

Adrien looks down at his hands, “I hadn’t known what the ad was for when I filmed it. I thought it was another one of those silly perfume commercials.” Alya isn’t sure if him saying “silly” was a slip up or on purpose but she struggles not to laugh.

“Did someone tell you it was a perfume commercial or did you just assume when you were given the script?”

“I was told it was for perfume.”

“Can I ask who by?”

She thinks the discomfort is genuine this time. Everything else is the video isn’t that bad, but this line could bring hell for him.

“My father told me it was.”

This isn’t news for Nino or Alya but she pauses for a long moment to let viewers digest that before asking her next question, “Do you know why he lied to you?”

“I suppose he thought I wouldn’t be ok with doing it otherwise.”

Alya smiles, a little proud, before handing him another picture. She’ll edit them into the screen for viewers to see later, “Well he thought correctly. Here’s a picture of you standing with Mylene and our friend Marinette, forming a physical barrier so the trees wouldn’t be cut down,” she pauses for a moment while Adrien examines the picture, “I gotta say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry.”

“I had just found out my image was going to be used to promote an anti-ecological plan that would harm our city. My friends had spent months trying to prevent it. I was furious.”

And Bam! As soon as she posts this video Adrien’s empty head, pretty face, good boy persona is shattered. He just admitted to having feelings. Angry ones. Directed at his father. Not to mention opinions on political matters. That is not the pretty face most of Paris is familiar with and fawns over.

“I’d be angry too,” Alya sympathizes.

Adrien puts the photo down and looks at her with a serious expression, “That’s the main reason I wanted to do this interview. For better or worse I have a lot of sway with my fans and public opinion. There’s still some controversy about the Oxygen Project being canceled so I want to be very clear that I do not stand with it,” he looks directly into the camera, “The oxygen project would have only helped the people profiting from it. The only ethical solutions for our city, and the whole world, are complicated, long term, sustainable options that will protect and rejuvenate our planet. No one has said it better than Mylene and Ivan so please go check out those videos under the activism section. Help if you can, and spread the word about the truth. It’s important that people know when they’re being lied to by a corporate campaign.”

Alya realized she stopped breathing for a moment because oh my god that was so good. She manages to quietly clear her throat and thank Adrien for the interview again. He plasters back on his polite smile and they give a brief hug before she gestures to Nino to stop filming.

“OH MAN! That was awesome!” Nino pulls Adrien into a one armed hug and doesn’t let go.

Adrien smiles a little bashfully, “You think? It wasn’t to much?”

“No way Adrien,” Alya cuts in, “the whole thing was great but that bit at the end? Amazing. Mylene will be thrilled.”

Nino pulls away from their friend a bit and clasps his shoulder, “Are you going to be ok though? Your old man is not going to be cool with like, any of that, is he?”

Adrien purses his lips and shrugs, “Don’t worry about my dad, I can handle him.”

Alya can see the fake nonchalance a mile away. Marinette is the queen of it after all, so she tells him, “Adrien this is really brave of you but I just want to make sure you know you’re in charge of this narrative. I probably won’t finish editing everything until tomorrow because I have a project to finish tonight. If you change your mind there’s no hard feelings. Or if there’s something you decide you want left out I’ll work some editing magic.”

Adrien smiles but her words don’t seem to relieve any tension, “Thanks Alya, it means a lot. By the way, where’s Marinette? I thought she was coming?”

“She’s probably just got caught up with something but I’ll see if she messaged me.” Alya checks her phone and realizes she left it on silent after the test last period. No texts from Marinette, but there is an akuma alert which explains her absence. She tries to ignore the immediate twinge of worry.

Adrien suddenly looks up from his own phone and rushes to grab his bag, “I actually got to go, my dad wants me home until the akuma attack is over. Best keep my head down until the bomb drops tomorrow right?” He rushes out before Alya or Nino can respond.

Nino sighs after his best friend runs out, “It’s so unfair he’s having to rectify his dad’s bad choices.”

Alya takes his hand, “I know. Something tells me this won’t be the last time he does so either. We’ll be there to support him though.” Her boyfriend gives her a soft smile and she kisses him on the cheek, “Come on, I want footage of that akuma fight.”

Nino glances down at his phone, “Actually it looks like the fight just ended a minute ago.”

“Wow that was short. It couldn’t have gone longer than the ten minutes we did the interview with Adrien for.”

“You’ll catch the next one,” he grins at her, “one way or another.”

She laughs, “okay turtle boy, let’s go get some lunch before we have to head back to class.”

They run into a slightly dejected Adrien on the way. He gives them an interview smile. They all find Marinette and get lunch. They keep the conversation light and avoid talking about the bomb Alya’s going to post tomorrow.

This is self indulgent. I really need Adrien taking some control of his life and standing up to his dad. Yes it’s painful but it’s so important that Adrien puts some distance between them in the public eye before Gabriel is revealed as Hawkmoth. I’m just hoping that can actually happen in canon but I have many fears this season.

[fic-ify]

Pocket Beel! (part 1 of 2)

This was supposed to be done a week ago. It was also only supposed to be a drabble. One week and 6k words later it is exactly neither of those things. I am so sorry. I was going to look back and edit through it but I got tired of looking at it so here we are. Please forgive. I’ll post the second half later today!

Thank you to @thatfanfictionchick for encouraging me to write this and @boxbusiness ‘s amazing Pocket Beel art for inspiring it. (if you haven’t seen it yall should) I hope I did your talent justice.

Warnings: None, it’s very fluffy. Slight language? Maybe?

Summary: My OC Max has a slight misshap and missfire with a project from her Spell’s class that causes our poor glutton some misfortune. Cute chaos ensues.

"Max! Are you ready to go?" Her eyes raised to meet friendly purple and she couldn't help but grin in greeting. Beel made his way through the doorway into the mostly empty classroom towards her. "Are you still working? Class has been over for nearly twenty minutes." As he said this she heard the telltale gurgle of his stomach just as he put his hand over it. He must have eaten his afterschool snacks already.

"Sorry Beel, I'm almost done. The professor said I could stay late to get some extra practice in." She had been struggling a bit with the latest spell they were practicing in class and having the quiet space alone had helped greatly. Not that she didn't think Satan wouldn't help her back at the House, but she knew peaceful study sessions were few and far between. Something the teacher had seemed to understand when she'd asked to stay behind in the classroom.

"Did you still want to join me at the gym tonight?" Beel stood in front of her table now, she could feel his eyes on her curiously as she turned to dig into her bookbag. "You don't have to if you're busy. This looks important."

"You're such a sweetheart, no I still want to join you. I just want to give this one more try then we can head out." She popped her head back up, smiling as she held her hand out to him with something in it. "Here, while you wait!" She watched an excited smile spread on his face when he saw the bag of fried lava python bites and a chocolate bar she'd pulled from her bag. "I had a feeling you'd go through yours so I bought extra."

"Thank you, Max." He took them from her hold, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the cheek in return before he stepped away to sit in an unoccupied seat at the desk in front of her. After a short burst of the crackling of Beel opening the snack bag, the only sounds to fill the empty Spells classroom were his chewing and her infrequent muttering as she looked closer at her spell.

"Chameleon tails…tundra spiders…I think this is everything." She concluded to herself, double-checking the incantation she would have to speak aloud as well as the scribbles she hoped passed for rune work. Oh how she wished for the clean penmanship Solomon had attained over years of practice; though thinking of her normal handwriting, she wondered if she was just the problem in this case.

At least I can bake. Suck-it Wizard mans. Her silent triumph lasted for all of a moment before she took a half step back from the desk and focused on the empty glass jar on the desk beside Beel. She had brought it as practice and target for the spell, figuring not much could go wrong with a Mason Jar. Max took a deep breath, steadying her voice to repeat the spell aloud, the Latin sounding syllables coming out uncomfortably if not a bit stammered.

A bright flash enveloped the desk Beel sat at, the surrounding area included, drawing a surprised yelp from her. She threw her hands over her eyes protectively, only peeking open again when she was positive nothing else was happening. Please have worked…Please don't be alive…

"Oh boy…Beel?" Max called to the empty chair the glutton had previously occupied. The Mason jar sat untouched on the desk, a slight disappointment that was immediately pushed aside by her concern for her demon. "Beelzebub? You there?" A cautious note filled her tone while her gaze lifted and scanned the classroom.

"Max!" What sounded like an impossibly soft voice called her name, sounding for all intents and purposes like it was very far away. When she looked out the window across from her and saw no one, she heard it again. "Down here!" Though now she felt something tapping against her ankle. A quiet sense of foreboding filled her before she let herself look down, eyes widening when she took him in.

Wide-eyed and confused, Beel stood at her shoe, no taller than the clothing item itself. He looked unharmed, as unharmed as a gigantic demon turned the size of a mouse can look, if not a little flustered. Max let out a squeak of alarm and dropped down to kneel beside him on the floor, bending over to take a closer look at her demon. She reached out a shaky hand to him, palm up and let him crawl onto it before lifting him closer to her face.

"Beel?" She whispered, swallowing hard when he nodded in confirmation. "Oh, Babs I am so sorry!" She didn't know if she should cry or call for help but she could feel her skin heating with an embarrassed flush. "What-what should I…Should I call Lucifer?" She really did not want to do that, she could only imagine trying to explain the situation through her shame. However, she knew he would take it and handle it better than any of his brothers. Tiny Beel opened his mouth, looking like he was going to agree to the idea when the sound of the classroom door opening cut him off.

"Max, have you seen Beel? He said he was gonna get you and meet…me…" Belphie rounded the desk to where she knelt, fading off as he took in the two of them. Purple eyes widened in shock at the picture before him, looking from his minimized twin to the human, and back. An awkward, heavy silence filled the room for all of ten seconds before Belphie's laughter burst out of him, loud and full, almost knocking him flat on his ass.

"Belphegor! Don't laugh!" Max whined, covering her face with the hand not currently occupied by Beel. The sloth demon could not be dissuaded from his humor however and continued to laugh at her blunder. The human sighed and looked apologetically at Beel again, who simply smiled and shrugged, an action that at his current size, caused her heart to swell. As she looked at him more and took in the tiny size of him, she had to actively fight off squealing at how adorable he was.

"Here, hold on." She lifted him to her right shoulder, letting him clamber on and hold onto the collar of her jacket while she rose to her feet. Belphie was starting to settle, finally, and wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. "Are you quite finished, I don't know how to fix this." Her glare translated to the rest of her posture with her crossed arms, even if the furrowed brows and hard line of her mouth hadn't.

"Never a dull moment with you hm?" Belphie chuckled, stepping closer and leaning in to get a better look at his normally larger twin. "Looks like you're not the shortest in the house anymore Max." He commented, reaching a hand forward and scratching the top of Beel's head to ruffle his hair. "You good Beel?" At that, the tiny glutton gave whatever attempt at a growl he could muster and snapped his teeth at his twin. Both Belphie and Max turned to face away, the human coughing and clearing her throat in an attempt to muffle her laugh and Belphie covering his own with his hand though not suppressing the mirth in his eyes at all.

"Max…" Beel's tiny whine accompanied by a gentle tug at her earlobe made her turn to glance at him again, seeing his pleading purple gaze that hadn't lost any strength even with his size. "'M 'ungry." Her heart broke at the cuteness, leading her to step to the desk he had been sitting at, leaning down carefully to pick up what was left of the snacks she had given him. The fried treats were gone, so she settled for unwrapping the chocolate bar and breaking off a square to give to him. In thanks, instead of mumbling around the dessert the size of his face, he bumped his head against her cheek before settling again to sit on her shoulder.

"At least we know we'll not run out of food tonight." The demon behind her commented while she packed up her things quickly into her bag. "Lucifer is in a meeting with Diavolo so I don't recommend going to him for this right now." She turned to face him as he was shrugging. "Or do, could be an entertaining turn out."

"Thanks for the support friend. You're so helpful." She deadpanned, hefting the bag onto her unoccupied shoulder. She made her way towards the front of the classroom, listening for a moment to make sure Belphie was following before leaving the room completely. The sound of Beel's content murmurings as he ate made her smile and part of her was so very tempted to hope the change was permanent.

"Beel, are you going to be okay on my shoulder? Do you wanna ride on my head?" She offered, a little worried about knocking him off. Even if he managed to get chocolate in her hair, it was less of a problem to wash it than it would be to worry about him falling. Belphie came up to walk at her right as she waited for an answer from the tiny demon.

A shift on her shoulder made her look over as a soft buzzing filled her ear. The human came to a stop, blinking in surprise as Beel, in tiny demon form, flew in front of her face and grinned brightly. He buzzed around in a circle a few times, gleefully swarming around her head before coming in front of his brother. Beel stuck his tongue out and earned himself a gust of air blown at him, courtesy of Belphie. So cute. She thought, unable to fight back a grin before he opted to land on top of her head, disturbing her hair just barely by little twitches of his wings.

"You don't get to hog Pocket Beel all afternoon," Belphie warned when she lifted another square of chocolate to his brother. A warning she easily ignored with the happy hums she got in return.

"She who possesses the chocolate gets the baby." She said in a happy cheeky tone before picking up her stride back to the House of Lamentations with him. Her embarrassment and concern had died down some since the initial reaction, at least enough that she didn't dread returning home.

Whatever awaited them at the house might not be all bad.

 -

She was wrong. So very wrong.

She really shouldn't have been surprised.

Max, Belphie, and Beel had made it into the foyer without incident, that much had been a blessing. She could hear the sound of bickering from the common room, causing her to silently decide to avoid the area. Beel had been satisfied, for now, by the chocolate so she didn't quite intend to go to the kitchen straight away. If anything she wanted to find Satan as soon as possible, to see if he knew how to reverse her blunder.

"Belphie! Darling Max!" A flowery voice called to them before she could hunt down the fourth born, drawing her attention to the stairs. Asmo stepped off the last few steps in his casual clothes, practically bouncing up to her in his eagerness. "I was wondering where you were darling. Care to indulge in a luxurious bath with the most gorgeous demon in the realm?" She yelped slightly when he threw his arms around her, and practically his entire body weight in the process.

"I-I would love to Asmo but…uh I have something I need to talk to Satan about first." She prayed to whatever being cared to listen that Beel was hiding enough in her hair for Asmo not to notice him. Belphie had decided to be no help at all and stood by the stairs, looking at her as if she was both the most amusing joke and bothersome inconvenience. She shot him a glare, only to be winked at but otherwise ignored.

"What could you possibly need that is more important than time with me sweetie~" Asmo almost whined, hanging on her even heavier now.

"Leggo Asmo!" A tiny voice squawked, making the fifth eldest freeze and Max close her eyes tightly. The clingy demon loosened his hold enough to lift and look at where Beel was sat on the crown of her head, arms crossed indignantly.

"Is that…" She nodded in response to his question, opting to stay otherwise silent. This might have been a mistake when a high pitched squealing was drawn from the lust demon. "Ooo he's so cute!" Asmo did a little wiggle not unlike a kid when they got a toy they wanted. She leaned away when he reached for the tiny demon and shot him a distrusting scowl. "Oh c'mon Max, lemme hold him. He's so cute like a little doll!"

"Asmo back off." She warned, looking again to the twin that refused to step in, lest he expend any energy at all ever. She opened her mouth to ward off Asmodeus again when she was stopped by a sharp yelp and the demon himself jumping back a few feet.

"Beel! I can't believe you bit me!" Asmo was gripping his finger, a dramatic look of betrayal crossing his beautiful features.

"You deserve it," Belphie commented around a yawn.

"Oi! What's all the racket?" Mammon's sharp voice joined in. She turned to see both him and Levi walking out of the common room, understanding now the source of the bickering she had heard. "What's that on ya head human?"

"OMG Beel?!" Before she could stop Levi he had already taken a picture of his tiny younger brother and was frantically typing something on his D.D.D. She would have to persuade him to take down the post later after all this was dealt with.

"H-Hey you shouldn't be ridin' Max around like that! Even if you're so tiny." Mammon was grumbling, moving to either get a closer look at Beel or grab him from atop her head. Whatever his intent she had no plan on finding out as she backed away, making to flee up the stairs. "Why ya so small anyway?"

"Max misfired a form altering spell." Belphie supplied.

He's just really going to be the least helpful in this situation huh? She wanted to smack him upside the head and planned on doing so the minute she was close enough. A soft buzzing once again gained her attention, making her look up to see Beel once again in his demon form and flying above Mammon's head out of his grasp. No one felt it necessary to remind the second born of his own flying abilities as he struggled to catch the tiny redhead.

"Beel I'll grab you a bowl of poisonous chili berries if you meet me at Satan's room." She bargained, grinning up at him when his little purple eyes widened at her excitedly. He shot up the hallway towards the blonde's room, effectively escaping Mammon and the rest of his brothers in the foyer. Slowly they all dispersed, not without making a small fuss each. Levi went back to the common room, muttering something about seeing if Beel would pose with any of his Ruri-chan figures. Asmo refused to leave her side until she 'kissed his finger better' and then proceeded to be chased off by Mammon when he flirted for more. Belphie was the only one to trudge upstairs without complaint, presumably to take his afternoon nap before dinner.

Max was able to grab the berries from the fridge, careful to pour them from the bag into the bowl without letting any of them touch her skin. She could still remember the color her fingers had turned last time she accidentally grabbed a bunch and how long it had taken to regain feeling in them again. Once she stood outside Satan's door, her polite knock was returned by a call to enter.

"Well, this is certainly a first." The blonde greeted when she made her way over. He was sitting in one of his chairs and Beel was sitting on a stack of books that, by all logic of physics, should not have been standing.

"Something out of a Lewis Carol book if you ask me." She agreed. With a little coaxing, she was able to get Beel to sit at a cleared-off section of the desk with the bowl of berries. Juice on ancient, possibly cursed, tomes was not a crime she wanted to be added to her list of misdemeanors of the day.

Beel ate away at the berries happily as the human and Satan discussed the spell she had been attempting to cast. Apparently, due to the ingredients and her unpracticed focus in casting, the spell was prone to seeking out living targets over inanimate objects. "You're probably lucky Beel was there. It might have cast on you, then we'd really be in trouble." Satan pointed out, eyeing his little brother with eyes that spoke volumes about his amusement and curiosity.

"Can you undo it?"

"Probably, but with your limited magic and the basic nature of the spell, it's more likely to wear off in a few hours. A few days at most. It would take longer and more trouble trying to undo it at this point."

Max felt her shoulder sag in defeat and acceptance, wondering if Lucifer would punish her for this. Even if it was an honest accident, she had effectively rendered one of the Devildom's strongest demons, one of her protectors, powerless for a short but unknown amount of time.

"Is okay Max!" Beel chirped, flying up to her face after wiping the berry juice off his own. He placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose, it felt softer than a kitten lick, and grinned happily. "All the food is big now! I'm not mad!" She felt herself smile warmly despite her self imposed misery and leaned forward to carefully kiss the top of his head.

"Okay Beel. Just promise me you'll stay with either me or Belphie until you're back to normal?" She didn't think his brothers would do anything untoward, but there was always a risk. With an expression that looked overly serious due to his size, he nodded and flew off to explore the room a little before they left. "Thank you, Satan. At least it isn't permanent."

"You're very welcome Max. If anything else changes about him let me know." She recognized the dismissal but wasn't terribly bothered by it. She wanted to change out of her uniform and into more comfortable clothes, also to plan what she was going to do with her tiny demon. So she took the bowl previously occupied by berries and departed.

"Max." Chills ran her spine the minute she stepped out of Satan's room and came face to face with Lucifer. Or, more accurately, face to chest. She looked up at him, his crimson eyes looking somewhere between tired disappointment and begrudging acceptance. "What's this I hear about a spell on Beelzebub?"

"Well, you see. I…uh…" Her mind scrambled for an answer even as her words started unbidden from her mouth. Both saving and damning her further, Beel swooped down from the doorway and hovered in front of his eldest brother. "It'll wear off?" She offered sheepishly, smiling at him and hoping it didn't come out as much of a grimace as it felt.

Lucifer eyed Beel skeptically, his singular raised brow being the only expressive thing on his face. A heavy sigh escaped him before he turned to look at the  human once more.

"I hope for your sake it does. He's your responsibility until he turns back." As if he wasn't a millennia-old demon who could probably take care of himself even at his size. "Though I suppose I won't be so worried about his midnight snacking tonight." Max felt herself relax again at that, knowing that the eldest must not be too mad if he could at least make a joke.

She made her way to her room quickly, letting herself and Beel in before locking the door behind her. She hoped she had at least enough time to change and take a moment to rest before she was bombarded by any of the other brothers. Beel landed somewhere on her bed, or at least she guessed he had by the soft rustling of her sheets. Pulling out some leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, she quickly changed in her bathroom before making her way over to him.

“How you doin’ Babs?” She asked her tiny demon, sitting on the bed beside where he’d nestled happily on her pillow.

“I’m okay!” Max smiled and couldn’t help but reach out and scratch under his chin like he was a kitten. She giggled when something similar to a pleased purr erupted from him in return. 

“Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?” He shook his head but pat the pillow under him, in a clear gesture for her to join him. “You wanna nap? Taking a page out of Belphie’s book eh?” She teased but laid down without much protest. She wasn’t surprised he was tired, flying around at his size, even a short length, probably took a lot out of him. And she never argued against a nap after classes. 

She settled on her side, watching Beel take off his uniform jacket now that he was out of his demon form as well as his tie. He laid on his side facing her and smiled at her with that familiar warm adoration.

“We’ll probably have to figure out clothes for you eh? I can’t imagine you want to stay in uniform until you’re back to normal.” She kept her voice just above a whisper, not wanting to break the comfortable mood around them. He nodded before yawning and stretching against her pillow. She couldn’t completely hold back the higher-pitched hum that left her throat, still not completely over how adorable he was like this. Once he’d closed his eyes, she watched as his breathing evened and shallowed before closing her own and letting her body relax into the bed.

[snow-leopard-777]

In The Darkest Hour

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not, despite what most would claim, a normal girl, nor did she lead a normal life. Chloè had once claimed that the bakers' daughter held more secrets than Fort Knox, whatever that was. Though she wasn't entirely wrong. Marinette did hold many secrets. Family, friend, random stranger, it didn't matter who talked to her. Unless you were a member of the conversation, not a peep was to be heard about it from Marinette.

As much as it occasionally annoyed them to be unable to get gossip from the girl, the entire class greatly appreciated the girl's talent for secrets. When Chloè, Kim, Max, Alix, Nathaniel, and Juleka needed someone to talk to about being LGBT, Marinette was their only pick. The group quickly became close, Marinette asking their permission to tell the other LGBT classmates to talk to them about it. None of their other classmates could figure out why the group was so close, for which they were extremely greatful. 

Kitty Section was created under Marinette's careful selection, the girl gathering those that had shyly admitted to their preferred method of making music and introducing them, one on one, to Luka and Juleka for consideration of the band they wanted to create.

The one thing the entire class knew about the rest of their classmates was one thing that were in perfect agreement with: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was an odd individual, and no one wanted her to snap. Especially after the appearance of le Papillion. Many of her classmates worried about their secrets, as so very little was known about the girl. Though the class didn't realize it, the only students that did not fear Marinette's akumazation revealing their secrets were the LGBT kids, as Marinette had not only admitted to possibly being either ace or demi due to her lack of attraction to anyone, but they also knew she was keeping secrets before she knew how to talk.

As they gave the girl more and more secrets, she became more and more isolated. No one was willing to give up their confidant, but those that she didn't trust with a secret of her own began to avoid her unless they needed a conversation kept quiet. Marinette simply smiled a small non-committal smile every time they spoke to her while Madame Bustier nodded approvingly at the girl.

A delicate peace existed in the class. Marinette's friends were all extremely protective of her, especially after they learned just why the girl was so secretive. Everything came to a head when Alya suspected Marinette knew the identity of at least one of Paris's heroes after seeing Chat Noir enter a room at the end of his timer- and Marinette walk out seconds later.

In retrospect, Alya could have chosen a better place to confront Marinette than in the school classroom, interrupting Bustier's lesson so that the girl couldn't run away.

The bluenette, of course, denied knowing who Chat Noir was. Alya, however, refused to let up- her blog was at stake, after all.

"C'mon, Mari!" Alya whinned, ignoring the classroom's collective flinch. No one was allowed to call Marinette Mari, new girl or not. "Be a good friend! Do you know what you could do for my blog?"

Marinette glared at the girl. "It's always about what I can do for you, isn't it?"

"Marinette! That was too harsh," Caline scolded her student. "You're supposed to be the example, not the problem starter! She just wants a little help with her career!"

Marinette glared at the teacher. "I said that I don't know the identity of Chat Noir. She kept pushing, insistent that I did even though all she knows is that he entered a room shortly before I exited it. I remained in front of the door until Chat Noir let me know he was properly recharged and left. She wishes to know a secret he would die to protect despite his and his cousin's protests against her stalking them."

"That is highly uncalled for!" Caline scolded. "One should never be judged for curiosity."

"And one should never be judged for the keeping of ones secrets, so be they keeping their own or others'. She's lucky that they haven't filed restraining orders or complaints against her. She could easily be sued for invasion of privacy, charged with jail time for stalking, or have charges brought against her for posting un-consented photos, of minors no less, on a public forum without any kind of authorization- not to mention some of her theories could be considered slander and defamation of character." Marinette retorted, the majority of the class shocked by her sass. The quiet girl usually refused to speak when challenged about her secrets; she had never fought back before (Sabrina was surprised, but more because of Marinette's legal jargon. Perhaps she should attempt a friendship with the girl instead of fearing her closed-off mannerisms). Only a select few that remembered her as a child with no filter (Chloè, Kim, Alix, and Nino) or visibly held no regard to authority figures (Juleka) remembered the old Marinette. The Marinette from before her aunt and uncle's deaths. The Marinette that allowed people to call her Mari.

Irina Karasuma, neè Dupain-Jelevac, adoptive daughter of Gina, had disappeared off the face of the planet when Marinette was eight years old. Six months after her disappearance, the Russian woman was presumed dead- along with her husband. Karasuma Tadaomi was Marinette's favorite out of her adoptive relatives, and everyone knew it. He was the one that taught her how to fight, how to defend herself. He also taught her how to cuss someone out, in French or Japanese, and make them thank her for it. He was the one that taught her just how important secrets were from the moment she was born. Irina taught her, very reluctant, niece how to use her looks to her advantage, the art of flirting, and about seven different languages (plus how to flirt or cuss in many others). By the time her favorite family members vanished (not dead, never dead, they couldn't be dead), Marinette was able to speak nine different languages, not including her mother tongue, plus sing beautifully.

Two weeks after Bustier assigned her detention for standing up to Alya, Marinette found a strange box on her desk, a fox tail amulet and a strange little pocket fox contained inside.

🍯

Adrien Agreste hit record on his phone the second Alya interupted class. He didn't plan on being defended, had only hoped to get a good laugh to share with Felix, until Marinette spoke up. If he weren't so good at acting, Adrien wouldn't have been able to keep the tears from falling. He knew, without a doubt, that Marinette knew his identity- and Ladybug's as well. She hadn't quite managed to close her eyes in time when he detransformed in front of her. The girl had simply pulled out her lunchbox when Plagg mentioned Adrien forgetting his Camembert at home, offering the kwami her own.

"Let me know when your good to go." Was all the girl said before walking out of the room, the sound of fabric sliding against the door letting him know she was leaning against it. Several nerve-racking minutes passed before Adrien announced that he was transformed. He watched the door slightly shift forward as she got off it, though the door never opened. 

He had waited days for the girl to spill. Yes, he was well aware of her reputation. However, he was almost positive that his was too big of a secret to keep. After seventy-two hours of nothing happening, Adrien tracked down his cousin and visited Master Fu.

Master Fu had frowned at him. "We will watch her and see how the situation pans out. If she proves herself enough, I may give her a Miraculous of her own."

The next day, Adrien walked into the massage parlor with the recording of an absolutely unaware Marinette verbally attacking a classmate for trying to pressure her into spilling the secret.

The Guardian had watched the video contemplatively, analyzing the girl. "I think I know the perfect match." He finally said once the video was over. "But I am unsure… it has been several centuries since a true match for her surfaced."

Adrien left more confused than ever, though forgot about the strange encounter once his cousin saw the video. All of Adrien's being was suddenly focused on keeping Felix from taking legal action as Ladybug against the blogger.

🍯

Marinette stared at the small goddess. The fox stared back, then smirked.

"Most kits freak out when they see me." The fox commented.

Marinette smirked back, "I'm not most kits."

"Hmm. We'll see. My name's Trixx, I'm the Kwami of Illusion. My main power is Mirage, we'll be able to see if you can use any other power after we work together for a time. You have five minutes after using my power before you transform… until your an adult."

"Okay. Does this come with a catch? Do I have to fight akumas?"

Trixx grinned ferally. "Nope. All you have to do is not use my Miraculous for evil."

"Good. I think Kitsune would prefer to take out human criminals and night akuma over missing school."

Trixx nearly purred at her newest holder's words, eyes sparkling with pride, "That sounds perfect." It was brilliant for her kit, this one might even grow to be a full fox, to use a name of different origin to mislead people. Who would think a half-Chinese girl would use a Japanese name?

🍯

Marinette transformed with Trixx for the first time that night, fiddling with her weapon before ever leaving her room. She had a flute, the mouth piece pulling out to reveal a sharpened blade on the end, barbs set strategically down the blade so that it would catch without letting go. She slowly pulled the rest of it apart, each one leading to a blade of some sort. The middle had two blades, one on each end, while the others only had one- lengths varying. 

It didn't take more than a second to find the phone-like use, the girl calling Chat Noir to meet her at the Trodacero with Ladybug.

The two heroes beat her to the meeting spot, Huli Jinn joining them after learning how to move around as a Miraculous user. Her dark silver cloak settled around her, shifting and blending with the shadows.

Ladybug eyed her suspiciously. "Who are you and what do you want?" The blond demanded.

Kitsune smirked at him. "Call me Kitsune. I'm the holder of the Fox Miraculous. I thought it best to let you know I was active before you mistook me for an akuma." She lowered her hood and pushed the cloak back, revealing her appearance. Her dress was silver with blue ribbons and sleeves. The skirt had slits up both sides to prevent it impeding movement and the skirt and sleeves were removable- not that the boys knew that. A pair of loose silver pants and black combat boots hid under what most assumed to be a dress. Her Miraculous stayed tucked under her outfit, her mask matching her silver theme- excepting the orange curled fox tails on either side of her mask.

Chat visibly brightened. "So you're here to help us?"

"Not exactly. You two are heroes. You fight akuma no matter when or where they occur. I'm a vigilante- I'm focusing more on keeping the average Parisian safe. If an akuma occurs at night, I'll help you out. But you're on your own during the day. I have school, and I know you do too, but I'm already on thin ice with my teacher, and I have work I have to do. You guys can sleep at night while I keep an eye on things."

Felix eyed her. "Why is your name in Japanese?"

Marinette blinked at him. "My favorite uncle was Japanese. He taught me many things before he vanished a few years ago. I don't know if he's dead or not, I hope not, but I wish to honor his memory and all he taught me."

Chat grinned even brighter at her. "Are you a Honeypot?" He demanded. He only knew one of those, and if she was… "Master Fu said he might give you a Miraculous!"

The other two heroes eyed the cat. "How do you know who I am?" Marinette demanded.

Felix stared at the two. "You're the girl that knows who we are." He dumbly stated.

Marinette huffed. "Yes, I know who you are. Not that anyone would ever learn that for sure."

"What are you going to do about sleep?" Felix demanded. He refused to be the cause of another person being irresponsible about school. 

Kitsune waved her hand through the air. "I can exsist perfectly well by sleeping on the weekends and taking naps throughout the week. Foxes are at their peak at night anyways."

"Didn't you just say you're on thin ice with your teacher?" Ladybug demanded. Chat Noir simply looked highly concerned.

Marinette raised an eyebrow, though Adrien beat her to speaking. "Our teacher doesn't like her right now because she defended my hero persona against a classmate. Our teacher is all for Mar- sorry, Kitsune keeping secrets until those secrets could make someone else rise to the top. She got detention for protecting my identity and defending herself against the girl pestering her."

Felix narrowed his eyes. "So the teacher punishes victims for defending themselves against a bully harrassing them?"

"I wouldn't say that-"

"Yes." Kitsune interupted. "The teacher shows no care for the emotional state of a person being attacked, only for the well-being of the more agressive person. She has had several complaints filed against her, though no action has been taken. My allies and I are getting ready to go to the school board if nothing changes soon."

Felix nodded once in acknowledgement. "Good. I shall retire for the night, Chat, you should do the same. We miss enough sleep as it is." He turned around and muttered under his breath, knowing his cousin could hear him, "And you need to explain to me what a Honeypot is."

Marinette bit back her laugh, fully aware that Felix didn't know her Miraculous also came with heightened senses. "Goodnight, boys."

🍯

Adrien landed in Felix's bedroom, having laughed at the boy the entire way there. Their transformations fell even as Adrien teased his cousin. "Need me to explain what a Honeypot is? Didn't you say that I was the one who was sheltered? That I don't know anything if it's not in an anime?" Felix glared at his cousin. "Okay, fine! A Honeypot is someone who can lure their prey in by their looks and actions, and once they catch what their after, they can make their move. Marinette's aunt taught her how to be a Honeypot when she was little."

Felix eyed his cousin. "What anime did you learn it from?"

Adrien made several insulted noises before Plagg finally outed him.

🍯

Nearly a month later, Caline Bustier and Damoclès were told to pack their bags. The head of the school board called in a favor from an old friend in Japan. The principal had demanded to be allowed to bring one of his teachers with him. She quickly agreed. François-DuPont suffered a hit with the removal of the principal and a teacher for negligence. Hopefully their replacements would help nullify that hit. 

Asano Gakushuu laid his phone on his desk before buzzing for Nagisa. He started speaking before Nagisa could even properly shut the door. "I know you were planning on moving to Paris with Akabane when he got shipped off as an ambassador. I'm not going to try to change your mind." The again went unspoken. They both knew exactly who his best teacher was. 

Gakushuu was always surprised when Nagisa spoke to him- the boy had always been so silent. He hadn't learned until after they started working together exactly why Nagisa was the way he was. "Why did you call me?"

Gakushuu huffed. "Here's the deal. An old acquantence of mine called in a favor I owed her. She recently fired her principal and one of her teachers, and needs a suitable replacement for both. She asked me to take over, I agreed on the stipulation that I got to bring one of my teachers with me."

"Where at?"

"François-DuPont. It's a school in Paris. Instead of struggling to find a new teaching position in a country you are unfamiliar with, you can join me at this school. It's not far from the embassy, so you would still be able to meet Akabane for lunch or whatever."

Nagisa raised his eyebrow at his friend. "You do know that Karma prefers his first name for a reason. We're twenty-six, and have been friends since the end of cram school. Your rivalry should be dead by now." Gakushuu shrugged. Nagisa let out a heavy sigh. "What's my class like? How did the teacher I'm replacing run it?"

"I don't know how accurate my information is, all I have is what the superintendent knew. But the teacher and principal were terminated due to neglecting the students"

Nagisa facepalmed. "End Class bad? Paradise High bad? Or relatively alright?"

Gakushuu shrugged. "Possibly some combination of the first two. They did have one competent teacher for science and math. The terminated teacher was supposed to teach them almost everything else. We won't really know until we get there and assess the situation. They want us there ASAP."

"Of course. I'll tell Karma. Get me the school's address so that we can plan housing."

"I'll forward you all the information by the end of today. Use today to tell your students the news and pack. I'll begin the transfer paperwork. Do you have tickets to Paris already booked?"

Nagisa gave Gakushuu a bland look. "Karma and I leave for Paris this coming Monday. You need to focus more on your own paperwork, mine should be nearly completed."

Asano would never admit that he had been putting off Nagisa's paperwork for as long as possible in hopes that he would stay. Nope, not at all.

🍯

Marinette kept an eye on the new teacher as soon as he arrived. They had been stuck with different substitutes for nearly two weeks while waiting on him to arrive and all the paperwork to go through. The name Shiota Nagisa rung a distant bell in her mind, though she struggled a little with remembering where, exactly, she had heard his name.

"Greetings, everyone." His French was passable enough, though he had a noticable Japanese accent to Marinette's trained ear. "My name is Shiota Nagisa, though you can all call me by my given name. I hope we have a good year together." He offered them a small bow.

Marinette rose to her feet. "Greetings, Nagisa-sensei. I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng, class representative. Thank you for coming to teach us." She offered him a bow in return.

Nagisa gave her an approving grin even as Rose hesitantly spoke up. "Didn't he ask us to call him by his given name?"

Kim explained before Nagisa could. "His name's switched around, like mine! Last name is first and first name is last!" Kim boasted. "The new teach is like me!"

Nagisa hummed appreciatively. Le Chein Kim understood the basics, but not the proper terminology. "A little rough, but basically correct. Though I do not appreciate the interruptions. In Japan, a person's family name is given first and their given name second. It is considered rude to address someone by their given name or a nickname without permission. Dupain-Cheng-chan, please stay after school so that we can discuss the class."

"Yes, Sensei." Marinette acknowledged. 

"Now, in Japan, different honorifics are used to address someone. Here you use madame, mademoidemoiselle, and monsieur. It's a bit more complex in Japan. If you were to speak to an adult, you call them by their family name followed by -san. For example, a friend of mine also lives here. You would address him as Akabane-san. You would address females your age or younger by adding -chan to their surname, males with -kun. People in the grades above you would be addressed as -senpai, which can also be used for someone with more experience. A teacher, doctor, someone in a roll ment to educate someone is addressed as -sensei." Nagisa spent the first day explaining to them the cultural differences between Japan and France, flashing back to Bitch-sensei's less than conventional methods proving their usefulness. Several of his new students seemed to understand the different cultures very well while others seemed to let everything fly over their heads. 

The day finally ended, Nagisa ushering the students out so that he could finally learn just what he was dealing with. "Dupain-Cheng-chan, would you please explain to me how the class was run prior to my arrival? The principal and I were given minimal information about why we were being brought in."

Marinette slightly inclined her head. " Please, call me Marinette. My surname is a mouthful. Caline Bustier was our former teacher. She let bullies run rampant and punished the victims if they stood up for themselves. One of my classmates is obsessed with uncovering the identities of Paris's heroes. The teacher never warned her of all the legal action that could be taken against her for basically stalking underaged people. Césaire was convinced that I knew one of their identities and interupted the class to hound me about it. I denied any knowledge of who they were. She pressured me, insisting I knew and called me by a nickname I do not use. I told her off, the teacher scolded me and gave me detention.

"The former principal wasn't any better. He was easily controlled by people in a place of power, allowing bullies to rule the school even as he brushed an complaints about his teachers under the rug. I was chosen as class representative because my classmates trusted me to know better than anyone just what they wanted or needed without airing their secrets to the world. I am also one of the only students who was not afraid to tell Bustier and Damoclès that they were acting like imbeciles. My class is accustomed to not being able to rely on an adult in charge to handle a situation for them- especially if that situation is hostile. Now days they either handle it themselves or come to me."

Nagisa nodded. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to began taking some of that responsibility off of you. It will take time for us to learn how to work together, but I assure you that I am not like Caline Bustier."

Marinette eyed the new teacher. "Anything my classmates tell me in confidence will stay with me. But I will attempt to speak with you about the class when needed."

Nagisa inclined his head. "That's fair. I would expect nothing less. What can you tell me about the class? I can't move at mach twenty, nor am I a verifiable genius, but I would like to be able to give all of my students what they need. I was under the impression that I am in charge of everything except mathematics and science?"

Marinette nodded. "Juleka, Mylène, and Nathaniel are all very reserved and shy. Juleka and Nathaniel prefer to hide in the background and let others shine. Mylène is okay as long as there's someone she's comfortable with nearby. Ivan is quiet and has a few anger issues, though he's pretty good at controlling himself as long as le Papillion is inactive. Kim has trouble focusing on class and retaining the information, he does better when he has something to do. I've been making him study with me, letting him practice sports, parkour, that sort of thing while I call out information and question him on the materials. He's not at the top of the class, but he is usually in the top ten. Alix can focus better than Kim, but also learns better when she has something to do. Césaire has a tendency to ignore the materials when the teacher is covering them in favor of working on her blog. She expects someone from the class to share their notes with her later on so she can pass. Sabrina takes care of helping Chloè study, since Chloè learns better with technical terms. Every now and then Sabrina calls me in for help for a particularly difficult subject because, where French sometimes fails, making Chloè learn the material in a different language works every time. Nino learns through music. Everyone else learns relatively well in the class and can mostly interact with new people. Adrien said his cousin's considering transferring in, he's asocial, not big on people, but smart."

"Thank you. I'll see what I can do about helping Le Chein-kun and Kubdel-chan have something interactive during class to help them. Do any of your classmates find music distracting?" Marinette shook her head. "Then I'll ask one of my former classmates for help with making a playlist to help Lahiffe-kun learn the material. What would you suggest to stop Césaire-chan from being on her blog during class?"

Marinette hummed contemplatively. "As long as she has an electronic, she's going to check it. Especially since she knows a few of our classmates will give her the notes."

Nagisa nodded. "I'll have her give me her phone before class. Would you do me a favor?"

Marinette eyed the teacher. "That depends on the favor, Sensei."

"It's nothing bad." Nagisa promised. "I'm just used to students being unwilling to help. I feel your classmates are more likely to listen to you right now than me. You have their trust, I do not. Would you be willing to ask them to stop giving Césaire-chan their notes? It would be different if she were missing class, but she's just not paying attention. She needs to learn that there isn't always going to be someone to cover for her."

Marinette blinked, surprised. "Of course, Sensei."

Nagisa considered the girl. "You have a Chinese and French heritage, yes?"

"I do."

"Where does the grasp on Japanese culture come from?" Nagisa questioned, deeply curious.

Marinette offered a small smile. "My family is very complex. My grandmother is the equivalent of an Italian gypsy and has a penchance for adopting people. My adopted aunt, Irina Dupain-Jelevac, married Karasuma Tadaomi. He taught me many things, including Japanese culture, before they went missing a few years ago."

Nagisa's mouth fell open. "You're related to Bitch-sensei? And Karasuma-sensei?"

Marinette snapped her fingers. "I knew your name sounded familiar! My aunt told me about her attempt at being a teacher and how much she struggled with it. She had a lot of pride in your class. Tadomi-oji-san did too, he was just better at hiding it."

Nagisa stared at the small girl. "They told you about us?"

Marinette shrugged. "A little, yeah. Is that all you needed, Sensei? I need to get to work."

"Y-yes, thank you. Have a nice evening, Marinette-chan."

"You too, Sensei." Marinette called as she walked out the door. She found something in her relaxing slightly with knowing that the new teacher was taught by her uncle. Though she did wonder how Adrien, and possibly Felix if he transfered in, would escape to fight daytime akumas.

🍯

Nagsia flopped on the couch once he got home, startling his husband. "Sup, Nagisa?" Karma asked. Nagisa smiled, even after over a decade his husband hadn't changed from the time they were at Kunikagawa. He even continued elongating his name.

"Guess who my class rep. is related to?"

Karma raised an eyebrow. "I literally have no idea."

"Karasuma-sensei and Bitch-sensei."

"What the fuck?" Karma lost all attempt at feignig disinterest, bolting straight up.

"She's French-Chinese, Italian grandmother. The grandmother adopted Bitch-sensei before she married Karasuma."

"How the hell did you figure all this out?"

"I had her stay after class to get a feel for the class. I was called in to replace a negligent teacher, so I wanted to know exactly what I was working with. After we were officially done, I asked her where she learned so much about Japanese culture, as she seemed to already know what I was teaching today. I was already thinking about Bitch-sensei and her teaching methods before she explained how she was adopted by Karasuma-sensei- as a niece. Apparently they talked about us."

"Holy fucking shit, talk about a full circle. How much does she know?"

"That's the problem, I have no idea. Nor do I know what they taught her." That was more worrying than how much she knew about their past.

🍯

Marinette texted Chloè as she walked. *Césaire's notes privileges have been revoked until further notice, excluding absences.*

*I was waiting on you to snap on her. 🙃*

*New teacher's rules for her. Former Class 3E- 🗡️*

*😮 …………… Trust?*

*With caution.* Marinette pocketed her phone as she walked in the bakery. She could give a good two hours in the bakery, design while cooking supper, and then take a quick nap before patrol.

[dru-reblogs-stuff]

Check in tag!

Thanks for the tag @corkytheguar :D

1. Why did you choose your url?

My main is DruidX, which has been my handle on nearly every single platform ever since.... well, since the World Wide Web became a feasible thing to have in one’s home ^.^; Because this is the blog to which all other random interesting things are thrown, I thought I’d keep in theme with “Dru reblogs stuff”, for I am Dru... and I am reblogging stuff XD

2. Any sideblogs? If you have them name them and why you have them?

Technically @/dru-reblogs-stuff is a sideblog already. It gets more personal stuff, and also everything I like that’s interesting to me. I keep thinking I should narrow it down further though, and make seperate fashion & star wars blogs, because I rb that stuff on the regular...

@/druidx is my main, and is my Writeblr blog, for, well, all my writing, other people’s writing, and writing related advice/ resources.

@/dru-plays-starbound is the blog I used to rb Starbound stuff, and also post my starbound builds to. I haven’t updated it in a while, thought there’s lots of stuff still to post... I just haven’t had the inclination to fight with a graphics program and screenshots.

@/nine-blessed-hero breaks my naming scheme sadly, but this is now my dedicated Elder Scrolls blog, for art and fanfic. It’s also not as well kept as I would like it to be (I’ve got 600 items in draft to read though and comment on, so it’s slow going).

Finally there is the essentially abandoned @/things-my-rm-says-to-her-lego. This started as an out-of-context quote blog for things my roommate muttered while sorting/ building the old Lego her parents dropped off ~October 2020. I have no idea what to do with it now said roommate is no longer saying strange things to her Lego...

3. How long have you’ve been on tumblr?

I’ve just passed my one year anniversary, 18 May -- or at least, the anniversary of my first post which I’m sure was made only a week or so after I joined. Basically I joined up not long after the Lockdown was made official in the UK.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

Yes! It’s just “q”, because I am both lazy and basic.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

As mentioned above, I joined not long after the Lockdown was made official in the UK. Because I had more time, I was looking back at old works and wanting both to share them and to get advice on how to get better. I’d heard somewhere that Tumblr was to writing as DeviantArt is to art, so I figured I may as well join and see what I could get out of the experience. Again, because I suddenly had more time, I bought TESIV: Oblivion on Steam and started to get into TESblr as well as Writeblr (which incidentally, is how I met the wonderful Corky ^.^). 

6. Why did you choose your icon?

I wanted something that reflected my interests (boy do I love Tea :D), but also wasn’t fussy, so I found a site filled with free SVG icons and picked this one out. I’ve had a lot of complements on it, so clearly it was a good choice ^.^ I’ve tried to keep the theme of teapots over all my blogs.

7. Why did you choose your header?

I don’t think any of my blogs have a header because I just couldn’t find anything I liked?

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

Across them all, it’s a “Last Line Tag” game one, posted Sep 22 2020 with 328 notes.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

28, across the board.

10. How many followers do you have?

I feel that’s somewhat defeating the point of not having them public. Let’s just say I have enough.

11. How many people do you follow?

181; just enough to keep things interesting, but not enough to be overwhelmed.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

No; the most I’ve done would have been an incorrect quote.

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?

I’m currently working from home, so it’s a permanent fixture on one of my background virtual desktops, ready to be flipped over to when work is dull or when I’m procrastinating writing.

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

I think someone tried to insinuate I’d offended them once, but they hid in the tags and I could never work out if it was my tags they were arguing against, or the post in general (it was a rb). But generally no; I’m Internet Old and just done with the Drama so I don’t engage.

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

They can jog on. If I think it’s important, then I will chose to rb it, but telling me I’m a horrible person if I don’t? That’s a surefire way to ensure I dislike you and your cause, and will ignore you out of spite.

16. Do you like tag games?

<Points to this post> I fuckin’ love tag game, my dude. I’m bad at doing them sometimes, but I honestly adore when people are thinking about enough to say “You know who’d want to do this? Dru!”.

17. Do you like ask games?

Slightly less so, because again, I’m bad at keeping up with these things, and a full askbox hangs over my head like the sword of Damocles. But that you chose to poke me with a question about me or my writing that you’re curious about, well; it does warm my heart.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

im-a-seraph-winging-it, rewrit, adelinewriting (though she’s no longer on Tumblr) maybe? idk ^.^; I guess not knowing is one of the nicer things about Tumblr; it makes everything a little more personal.

19. Do I have a crush on a mutual?

Yes. I’m not saying who (it’s sort of embarrassing to be the age I am and have a crush), but they have a unique and exquisite writing style, and I care for it very much.

20. Tags?

I’ll do my usual bods: @aquadestinyswriting @alias-levi , but I’m also curious about @homesteadchronicles @writtenbyrain and @scribeofred (0 pressure tho! I know this is an unsolicited tag)