#and more available if you pardon me while you go down to get it

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Well with Rice Krispies

You had snap crackle and pop

Mom's favorite was crackles.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 4

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.4

"If we’re going to get to the pit of this peach we gotta get some variables outta the way first. I need a scan of his brain and yours. While conscious.”

“Mine as well?”

“You said he’s your identical twin - he should be genetically the same as you. We can use a scan of your brain as a comparison to see if there’s physical damage on the organ itself, because brain damage is the most common cause of amnesia.”

“I do have the technology available for an in-depth scan, but… ”

 “But what?”

“It’s in the shape of a ray gun, but like a traditional MRI whoever is getting scanned has to stay completely still.”

“I don’t s’pose in the time it took me to go into town and get supplies, you managed to reconcile with him?”

“Reconcile? He’s still convinced I’m a mad scientist out to harvest his organs, 'or worse turn him over to the IRS'- don’t ask about that second part. If I point anything gun-shaped at him, he’ll freak out.”

“Can’t say I blame him…”

“Hush, Fiddleford. There’s an easy way we can get him to hold still.”

“Stanford- Stanford put the tranquilizing doohickey away. We both know that concoction of yours wasn’t formulated with humans in mind. Surely you have less caustic means of sedation.”

---

“Stanford, anyone can tell that bottle’s been tampered with.”

“I have a theory that this persona of his is so self-destructive he’ll still drink it.”

“Y’know, this bottled water tastes suspiciously like two crushed Ambien tablets.” 

*Stan keeps drinking it anyways*  

“I am impressed, but I also hate that your theory was correct.”

*Ford undeafens the cell*

“Stanley, if you think there’s zolpidem in that, why are you still drinking it?”

“You think two Ambien is enough to take me down? Guess again, I’ve used this stuff to cut coke. You’re gonna have to try harder than that, PhD.” 

“Hmm, so we should have used Coca-Cola instead of water…”

“That ain’t what he meant by- how did you survive by yourself out here?”

---

“Hello there …Stan?”

“Sup babe.”

“Don’t call me that. I was wondering - you’re so handsome already, but it’d surely tickle my fancy a bit more if you put on this here necktie.”

“Hell no.”

“Do you not know how to tie one? I’d be happy to-.”

“I know how to tie a tie, specs. But I’ll never wear a necktie ever again. Not after Colombia… I still can’t shave that part of my jaw without nightmares.”

“I beg your pardon?”

---

“I couldn’t convince him to put the mind control tie on.”

“Fiddleford, why are you staring a thousand yards away?”

“He was explaining to me his time in Colombian prison, then he went on a tangent about necklaces and now I don’t think I can change a tire without thinking about it ever again.”

“... Interesting. We’re not resorting to the tranq gun yet?”

“This is your own brother you’re talking about.” 

“There’s only one thing we can do. The only thing that will 99.99% work on my brother. I didn’t think it would have to come to this so soon. But it’s our only unharmful option left.”

---

“Stanley.”

“Doc.”

“I will give you twenty dollars if you stay still for thirty whole seconds.”

“On one hand this is a set up… On the other hand, I’ve done worse for twenty dollars.”

“You what ?”

“Ten bucks up front.”

To be continued...

[engie-ivy]

(Lyall Lupin being a Good Dad for his anxious son in law😁 For @wolfstarmicrofic)

9th: Cosy

1039 words

Lyall goes to use the toilet, and ends up adopting a new son.

Your New Family

“Really, Lyall?” Hope places her hands on her hips. “We just got here!”

“Sorry dear,” Lyall says cheerily. “But that’s the price you pay for becoming an old man, very frequent toilet breaks. Besides,” he adds. “With all your fretting about not being late, we’re like twenty minutes early, so now’s the perfect time.”

Hope rolls her eyes, a gesture Lyall is all too familiar with, and goes to inquire whether their table is already available, while Lyall strolls to the restrooms.

When he’s relieved himself and walks over to the sinks, there’s a boy pacing up and down. Well, maybe he’s more a young man, looking rather handsome with his fancy shoes, crisp white shirt, fitted suit jacket and long hair neatly tied into a pony tail, but to Lyall, he’s still a boy.

As Lyall is washing his hands, the boy leans on the sink next to him, staring at his reflection in the mirror, while taking what seem to be calming breaths.

Lyall meets the boy’s sharp grey eyes in the mirror. “Everything alright, lad?”

“Ah,” the boy says, looking slightly flustered. “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry, sir. Please, don’t mind me. I’m just...” He gestures vaguely with his hand. “Anxious, I guess.”

Lyall smiles at him as he turns off the tap. “On a big date?”

“No,” the boy says. “Not really. I mean, sort of, I guess.” The boy makes a move as if he wants to run his hand through his hair, showing that he’s not used to having it tied up. He settles for tugging at his pony tail. “I’m meeting my boyfriend’s parents for the first time. They’ll be here in...” He checks his watch. “Fifteen minutes. Fuck.” He presses his hand against his forehead. “Pardon my language,” he says after a quick glance at Lyall.

“Ah,” Lyall says, as something starts to dawn on him. “And you don’t think they’ll be... nice people?”

“They’re the best people!” The boy exclaims. “Going by what my boyfriend has been telling me at least, they’re really great.” He shakes his head. “But that’s just the fucking- I mean, that’s just the bloody problem, innit?”

Lyall tilts his head as he dries his hands with a paper towel. “How so?”

The boy shrugs. “My boyfriend comes from this warm and loving family, and he’s really close to his parents. It’s important to him that I get along with them.”

“Right.” Lyall nods in understanding. “And that of course puts a lot of pressure on you.”

The boy sighs. “I’m just scared I’ll fuck it- sorry, I’ll mess it up. I mean, what do I know about bonding with parents? I couldn’t even get my own bloody parents to even like me, and they’re supposed to have been programmed to love me!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lyall says sincerely.

“He’s envisioning this whole future, y’know?” The boy continues, now letting it all come out. “Coming together for birthdays, celebrating Christmases together, Sunday brunches at his parents’ place... He’s picturing this harmonious, cosy family, and I sure as hell can’t offer him that from my side, so if his parents don’t like me, I’ll take all of that away from him.”

Lyall looks at him sympathetically. “Sounds like it’s really important to you.”

The boy looks away. “I just don’t want to disappoint him,” he says softly. Then he lets out a humourless laugh. “God, I’m sorry. I swear I don’t normally trauma-dump on strangers in the restroom like this!”

“No, no,” Lyall says. “I asked, so don’t worry about it, lad. And the fact that You’re so anxious only means that this guy really means a lot to you.”

“He means everything to me,” the boy says without a moment of hesitation. He smiles to himself. “I can’t even explain. I mean... if I can’t give him everything, if he can find someone who can, who will make him happier, then I want him to break up with me, y’know? Even if it’ll completely destroy me. It’s like.... nothing matters besides his happiness.” He shakes his head. “I’m probably not making much sense. I’ve honestly never felt like this before.”

Lyall feels a warmth somewhere in his chest. “You know, lad, all a parent want is for their child to be happy...”

“But I don’t know that,” the boy interrupts, before adding quietly “Mine sure never did...”

Lyall feels a surge of fatherly protectiveness wash over him, for a boy he only just met! “I’m sorry you had that experience,” he says, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But take it from me, if they are indeed the good people your boyfriend has made them out to be, then that will be the only thing that matters,” he says firmly. “So if you love your guy-”

“I do,” the boy immediately says. “I love him so, so much.”

Lyall regards him fondly, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Then trust me, that will be enough for them. It won’t matter if you’re wearing a fancy jacket, or if you’re hair is neatly tied up, or if you let slip the occasional curse word. If he loves you and you love him, and you make him happy, then that is going to be more than enough.”

The boy gives him a grateful look. “Well, then I have nothing to worry about,” he then says with a grin. “Loving him is actually my specialty!”

Lyall lets out a laugh. “Sounds like you’re going to be just fine!”

Suddenly, the boy gives him a hug. Lyall is startled for a moment, but then easily hugs him back.

“Thank you,” the boy says, pulling away. “I’m sure this isn’t what you were expecting when you just wanted to use the toilet, but I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lyall says. “And I’m sure your new family will grow to love you.”

The boy grins at him. “Alright, here I go. Wish me luck!”

“You don’t need it, lad.”

The boy chuckles. “If Remus’ dad is even slightly like you, I’m sure I’ll be fine!” And then he dashes out of the restroom.

Lyall looks in the mirror and smiles to himself. “I’ve got a sense that he will be.”

Now with a part 2!

Part 2: Your New Son

[rishiimaa]

HI HI! I was the person who requested the “jjk with a child who’s tooth was growing or lost a tooth” which was 😮‍💨🤌. Then I had another thought where jjk characters child/children first start crawling/walking 🤔(I’m having a baby fever rn) please lmk if these requests are bothering you 😭😭

Nope! Requests’ll never bother me, and if they do, it’s not your fault, I’d just turn the requests off, so please, do more requests! I love it when people give me attention anyways!

Anywho… onto the fanfic!

Fluff

Yuji, Megumi, Gojo, Geto

Yuji

——————————————————————

Yuji would be the reason your son walk, he’d be watching football and cheering on, and he’d feel a bump on his leg, only to find out his son was standing!

——————————————————————————————

“Wh— God damn it! How do you fucking fumble that?!” Yuji yelled at the top of his lungs, earning a glare at you from the kitchen.

“Watch your mouth in front of C/N and stop yelling, I don’t want his first words to be that.” you narrowed your eyes at Yuji, easily making him shrink in size as he scratches his neck.

“Sorry, babe, it’s just I can’t understand why my team is fumbling so many balls! Especially the easier ones…I could totally catch that…”

You roll your eyes before getting back to your cooking, and you let out a breathy laugh, it was absolutely impossible to stay mad at Yuji, he’s just too sweet for his own good…so sweet that you even feel bad for scolding him.

Yuji laid back onto the couch in a pout, this game was totally scripted…all these years of rooting this stupid team just to lose again…so annoying.

While Yuji was having his temper tantrum, C/N, required his father’s attention, he tried reaching for him, throwing toys, making random babble noises, and even throwing toys at him! (Which never really makes it that far…But it’s worth a try!)

But nothing gained Yuji’s attention, his focus was on the game and only the game, which made C/N mad.

Suddenly…C/N made an attempt to stand by himself, by placing his feet on the floor and allowing to push himself up, just like his daddy does!

C/N began to finally wobble towards Yuji, slowly, but surely, C/N made it to Yuji’s leg, and began to punch it softly, this caught his attention, so when he looks down to his knees, he saw a very close standing wide-eyed C/N.

The silence grew…and both stared at eachother for a while, before Yuji finally realized what was going on.

“HOLY SHIT—!”

“Yuji!”

Megumi

——————————————————————

When C/N finally learns how to crawl, it took everything in Megumi not to cry, because if he did, he’d never hear the end of it from you…of course he ends up crying anyway…

——————————————————————————————

It was a normal day with the family, since it was the weekend, everyone was off work…So the Fushiguro family was stuck at home, Megumi was reading a book, you were watching TV (and a bit of baby clothes shopping), and little C/N was just laying on her belly on a blanket on the floor full of toys.

You continued to show Megumi the baby clothes you “scrolled” upon, but Megumi could never be irritated, he loved to hear you talk.

“Megumi! Look! This one has cute little sheep on it! You can also match with her—“

“Pass.”

Megumi groans, avoiding eye contact, you seethed at him with the sudden interruption.

“Pardon me? What gives you the right to say no to me? I pushed out C/N for two hours straight, and you can even match with her?”

Megumi groaned once again before pulling you on top his lap and giving you a light peck on your cheek.

“I meant with the sheep one, do the wolf one, that one’s cooler.” Megumi points at the screen, you let out a snort.

“What—“

“You’re so cute Megs, who knew i’d be married and have a baby with the cutest man in the world.”

“Could you not call me cute? That’s embarrassing…”

While you and Megumi were gushing, the ball that C/N was playing with rolled away, she tried to reach for it instead.

She made a sound, to alert her parents, but to no avail, no one responded. She pouted before lifting herself off the ground and deciding to crawl by herself to get the ball.

“Megumi, where’s C/N?”

Megumi looked over at the empty pile of blankets, both of you quickly went to your feet, but as you both stood up, you see a little C/N reaching for a small red ball.

You squealed with joy and you ran to your daughter and picked her up, simply out of pure excitement, you didn’t even let her finish crawling, but Megumi simply just stood there in silence.

then suddenly…you hear sniffs over your squealing, you look over at Megumi, covering his face, as the room fell silent.

“Megumi…Megumi are you crying over—“

“Shut up…”

Megumi said, wiping his tears but of course, knowing you, you didn’t shut up.

“Aww!! Look C/N, see how much your papa loves you? All those times he’s been mean doesn’t mean anything after all!” You tightly hug C/N, before she asks to be put down.

You put her down, when you do, C/B begins to crawl to her Papa, making happy baby noises as she reaches for Megumi for carrying. This definitely snaps Megumi as he lifts her up, hugging C/N once again with small sniffles sounding off…except this time it’s a bit louder…

You snap a picture, once again.

“I am definitely hanging this up.”

Gojo

——————————————————————

It takes Gojo so many attempts to get C/N to walk, and when she does…Hysterical, absolutely an abomination of tears and a camera roll full of pictures that he puts in his wallet.

——————————————————————

“Come on sweet pea…! I know you can do it! Walk to daddy, I got you!” Gojo said in a whiney tone, reaching out for his daughter, only for her to crawl to him and give him a sweet hug.

“It’s adorable that you did this, but I’d rather you’d walk…”

Gojo said sadly as C/N blew bubbles. He sighs of defeat before grabbing the remote and deciding to put it on spongebob, during that time it was C/N’s favorite show.

“Satoru, you know C/N’s not gonna walk when you ask her to, it’s gonna have to come natural.” You sigh, sitting on the couch after getting out the shower.

“I told you to let me get in the shower first! You take all the hot water!”

“Hm…well guess what, I’m a full grown woman! Should’ve been mature and went in yourself!”

Gojo pouts, before continuing to fidget with the spongebob plushy that C/N loves so much.

It makes sense that C/N would love spongebob, who wouldn’t, first of all, and second, her dad is Satoru Gojo, maybe it’s just genetic…

“Ugh…I can’t understand why you like this episode C/N, this one sucked.”

Gojo said, as if C/N could understand.

She acts like she does, because she looks at her dad and tilted her head, Gojo simply just looked at her with a pouty expression.

C/N furrowed her eyebrows, she took the insinuation that her dad was sad! And she couldn’t have that.

And so when Gojo wasn’t looking, she took the chance to walkover to him to comfort, with a little bit of struggling, she finally began to walk to her dad, you noticed this and pointed it out right away.

“Toru, Toru! Look! C/N in walking!” you pointed at C/N, but you always pull pranks on Gojo like this, so he simply tirelessly looked at her, not believing you at first

“Ohh yeah…and I’m the weakest man on—“ Gojo stops mid-sentence when he sees C/N slowly waddling towards him, in an instant, Gojo opens his arms so C/N could fall in them, she then places her chubby hand on Gojo’s cheek, and made a blabble that sounded like ‘there, there.’

You counted down from thee till the waterworks come…

Three

Two

one..

Sniff

hell yeah! right on queue!

i “You’re so adorable, C/N, I love you so much, never grow up and stay this age forever…” Gojo tightly holds C/N before he whips out his phone and takes a picture of his now standing daughter and a tearful Gojo.

Y/N thinks that those tears will never stop.

Geto

——————————————————————

Geto was obviously the calmest out of everyone in this list, but this time, you were the reason the twins walked, they were going through that phase when they only wanted their mother.

——————————————————————————————

Geto was currently giving both the twins a bath, he was struggling, as G/C/N was squirming around and is avoiding getting scrubbed, but of course B/C/N was being compliant.

“G/C/N…please…at least let me clean your butt, you literally just took a shit.” Geto sighed of defeat, you walked to the bathroom with a basket full of laundry.

“Any luck, Sugu?” You said, half-joking, Geto just shook his head and sighed

“G/C/N is refusing to take a wash…the most she’s done was get in the water” Geto almost lets out a whine. Before you let out a chuckle.

“It’s okay, Sugu, G/C/N is just stubborn like that, I’ll put your clothes in the washer, ‘kay?”

Geto gave a sound of approval, before trying again with G/C/N, she dodges the wash cloth once again while B/C/N was playing with a toy boat.

B/CN accidentally threw the toy out of the bath (don’t ask how), causing him to whine, Geto sighs, getting up to go and get the boat.

G/C/N took this opportunity to make a run for it after seeing her mom walk by, she crawled out of the tub, and stood on her feet, her naked body standing proudly, B/C/N said a “woah” noise, following his sister, just a bit more clumsily.

As if it wasn’t their first time walking, they both dashed out of the bathroom, following their mother.

“What the hell—? Y/N! Catch the twins! They’re making a run for it!”

Geto said in a panic, it would be easy to catch up to them, but they were small, so it was hard to grab them.

“Making a run for it—on my goddd!!” You said in a panic, running over at the door of the laundry the laundry room as both naked twins jumped on their mother laughing out loud, Geto sighed a breath of relief when he finally makes it to the twins, he couldn’t chose between being happy that they finally walked, or he should be pissed that not only did they wet the carpets, but they ran around the house naked.

“Well…who knew this’ll be their first walk…”

Geto ran his hand through his soft locks, sighing as he bent down to their level.

“Sugu, it seems they won’t take one unless I’m there, how about we all just take a bath together?”

[lovelaughsimp]

☘︎ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵐᵉ ᶜʳᵃᶻʸ ☕︎

Tags:

Kidnapping, stalking, angst

Pairing:

fyodor × reader

Summary:

After observing you from the sidelines for a year, Fyodor decides that he need to have you now.

Note:

hello everyone! It's my first time writing so hopefully we can help each other out! Also, English is not my first language so pardon me for any grammatical errors. Sending love!

The purple eyed demon was obsessing over you for a year, the moment he laid eyes at you for the first time– reading his favourite novel, he got interested. Firstly, it was just a little amusement of sort, seeing you make different expressions while reading something but the more he noticed you, the more his obsession with you grew. Fyodor knew someone as beautiful and kind as you would never choose a terrorist like him. He knew that the only way he could have you was by keeping you captive in the confines of his house.

He noticed you trying to wriggle out of the grip of restraint, he binded you with, deliberately choosing a rope which would hurt you less. He could finally have you. He saw how you tried to set yourself free from those ropes, the restraint caused a bruise on your arms. He was angry, for as no one or nothing could ever hurt what was his. He cupped your chin softly, looking at you with a soft expression as if he didn't just commit something vile– in his defence, he wanted to protect someone as beautiful as you from this world. After all, you were so fragile and world was always mean to fragile things.

"My dear. I'll lossen up these ropes. I do not want to hurt you. But promise me you will stay here" Fyodor asked you, his purple eyes looking at you as if you were the most precious jewel in the world.

"Leave me, you bastard! Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?" Your screamed at him, trying to wriggle out of those ropes, you tried to kick Fyodor as he was standing near you but to avail.

"Now, now my dear. I know you might be angry but this is all for you! Those vile people are trying to hurt you. I cannot let them hurt what's mine." Fyodor tried to calm you down. As if you could get calm after getting kidnapped by someone.

"Stop lying! Stop justifying your crimes by saying something that doesn't make sense! Let me go, you asshole." Your tone bitter, you lashed out at Fyodor but all he did was trail his finger over your cheek, bending at your level and brushed his lips near your cheek, wiping your tears off with his lips.

"Moya lyubov, I do not harbour any bad intentions for you, I just wanna protect you. You are so sweet for this world, all those people always took advantage of you, they do not understand your importance, give me a chance. I'll love you better than those hypocrites who use you because of your willingness to not hurt other's . You need not hurt other's, moya lyubov. I'll do that for you." Fyodor whispered in your ears, his hands still on your cheek, acting as if he understand, saying as if he's the one for you, as if he will lay down stars if you ask him to.

You sobbed for as no one could understand you. Always feeling dissociated by the people around you, always being misunderstood but now, someone– a total stranger at that makes you feel understood. It's as if he understand you better than your loved ones. Is he really sincere? The thought plagued your mind.

"Myshka, I do not want you to cry, not for me, not for anyone. Please do not cry. I'll protect you, I'll cherish you and I'll love you forever. " Fyodor said his voice soft yet his accent still heavy, tucking your hair behind your ear, looking at you lovingly. For once, you thought maybe, just maybe you should stay with him. It felt like you were loved for once. Does he really love you?

[autumnslance]

A Tale of Two Sisters

From early in ARR, the WoL has run into members of the intrepid Ironheart family, beginning with Millith in Gridania and appearing early in each expansion since. The family follows in their famous ancestor's footsteps and explores the world, kindly marking items of interest in the WoL's own sightseeing log.

And it's no different in Tural, as we first meet Elsebee Ironheart, who gives us sightseeing records for Yok Tural. It seems we have to seek out her twin sister, Emeline Ironheart, for sights of Xak Tural with which to fill our log book.

But even the familiar sightseeing log entries get their own twist in Dawntrail...

Elsebee Ironheart: A fellow Eorzean, am I right? Do you fancy yourself much of a sightseer? Elsebee Ironheart: Dear old Millith gave you her journal? My, what a small world. It just so happens that I'm her cousin! Elsebee Ironheart at your service. Elsebee Ironheart: Well, if you've met Cousin Millith, I'm sure you can guess why I “crossed the salt,” as they say. This continent is positively brimming with sights unseen by Eorzean eyes, and I'm here to discover them all! Elsebee Ironheart: My twin sister and I, that is. You see, I had more interest in Yok, while she was drawn to the vistas of Xak. So it was that we parted ways at the bridge, each of us touring half of Tural. Elsebee Ironheart: …So give me your sightseeing log, then! Elsebee Ironheart: Let's see, let's see… Oh, how beautiful! I should like to see these places myself someday. Ahem, er, sorry, I was going to just scribble down… Elsebee Ironheart: …my notes on Yok Tural! I included what my sister shared with me of Xak Tural, but I'm afraid it isn't much. Elsebee Ironheart: My twin's name is Emeline and she's still wandering about over there. Given your natural affinity for Ironhearts, you'll doubtless run into her someday. Elsebee Ironheart: Well, I'm sure you've got places to be and vistas to behold. May your journey throughout Tural be bright and unforgettable!

When first doing this on Dark Autumn, I really didn't think much of it; business as usual, right? Noted the comments about the sister, and as the log only went to zone 4, well, guess we'd deal with that when we found her twin.

And honestly, with so much else happening in the MSQ and all the sidequests, the Ironheart sisters fell out of mind...until I reached Solution 9 and saw, upon arrival, a single blue-marked sidequest available immediately...

Emeline Ironheart: That tome…that wouldn't happen to be a sightseeing log, would it? Emeline Ironheart: Millith! Now that's a name I haven't heard in a good long time. And dearest Elsebee… Emeline Ironheart: She's my twin sister, you see, and I haven't seen her for thirty long years. Not since I was trapped during my exploration of Yyasulani. Emeline Ironheart: It brings me great joy to know she is well. Pardon me for asking, but…might I see the notes she added to your log? Emeline Ironheart: She always did make such bold strokes of her lettering… Here. Emeline Ironheart: I've added my own notes. Some of the information may seem improbable at best, but I believe there is truth in every entry. Emeline Ironheart: Were I younger, I would set out in search of these fantastic sights myself, but alas, my body can no longer endure such travels. Emeline Ironheart: Though thanks to you, I feel lighter than I have in an age. If there is one thing I should wish, it is to see my sister again before I die. There is so much I would share with her… Emeline Ironheart: But you have better things to attend to than an old woman's musings. Take care, kind adventurer. And may your journey lead you to vistas both bright and unforgettable. Emeline Ironheart: Whenever I lay eyes on a traveler like yourself, I think back to the days I roamed the land as a young lass. Such fond memories…

When I first reached this quest, it took me out at the knees. They're not the only set of twins we meet in this expac, but they are the only ones separated by the time shift of the dome.

Returning to Tuliyollal, you can speak to Elsebee again:

Elsebee Ironheart: What? My poor sister's trapped inside that strange dome!? Elsebee Ironheart: Thank you─this is precisely the lead I've been searching for. Now I just need to find a way inside!

It's not clear whether WoL lets her know that her beloved twin is now as old, or maybe even older, than their parents may be...

I do somewhat hope we get more about this, as post-MSQ Elsebee has no new lines, and Emeline only says:

Emeline Ironheart: I gather that the world outside is now accessible─though leaving Everkeep may be a feat too far for these weary old bones. I just pray that my twin sister is hale and healthy…

Usually the Ironhearts don't get their own stories; they're there to facilitate the sightseeing log and that's it. But in this case, Dawntrail's story creates a heartbreaking scenario for this famous family, separating two of its closest members not with distance, but time.

[stayevildarling]

Miranda Priestly x Wilhemina Venable x Reader - Dragon meets Purple - Part 1

A/N: Hi there! recently I had the idea of Wilhemina x Miranda and due to my poll I decided to write them x reader. I have written like 10k + words so I'm going to divide it into parts.

tw: mention of disability, very mild mention of drugs, sexual tension

word count: 1.7k

taglist: @lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay,@whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson,@isle-of-earle,@paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime

As the elevator bell dings, Wilhemina finds herself in a large white modern hallway. She takes a few steps, her cane hitting off the marble floor as she approaches the receptionist. ,,May I help you?'' a brunette asks her. The redhead clears her throat before explaining ,,I'm here for an interview with Miss Charlton''. The receptionist reaches for the phone scanning Wilhemina up and down, while remaining friendly.

,,If you just go through that corridor, Miss Charlton will meet you by the conference room'' the brunette explains. Wilhemina nods, before making her way over to where she was told to go. Despite the redhead usually being quite confident in herself, at least on the outside, she was nervous, her heart pounding in synch with the echoing of her cane hitting the floor.

,,Ms Venable?'' a redhead asks, slightly snappy, again scanning Wilhemina up and down. ,,Yes, nice to meet you'' she replies, trying to muster up her best smile and trying to be as friendly as possible.

,,I knew I should have made photos a requirement on applications'' the woman with a british accent mumbles as she invites Wilhemina to take a seat and closes the door.

,,Pardon me?'' Wilhemina slightly snaps before the woman named Emily turns around. ,,I'm sorry, it's just here at Runway we have certain expectations'' she replies.

,,Are you referring to my disablitiy?'' Wilhemina questions, looking at her cane. The other woman's breath gets caught in her throat before she quickly apologises. ,,No I'm so sorry, not at all. It's just we.. especially Miranda has quite the strict view on fashion and you are.. very.. purple''. Miss Charlton explains, trying to save the situation a little bit.

,,Let's just start. Can you tell me a little about yourself?'' she asks. Wilhemina explains how she has worked in HR and helped built the company she worked for before. She explains her skill set, including computer skills, financing and other typical HR things.

Emily reads over her application again, certainly impressed at the woman's accomplishments. ,,May I ask why you decided to come to New York? I have read you are from Los Angeles? and I'm sorry but you know we don't have any HR positions available and this would be the position of Miranda Priestly's second assistant, me being the first of course''. She questions and explains at the same time.

And right there Wilhemina is pulled into a flashback, waves of memories crashing her thoughts and momentarily causing for silence in the room. Of course she didn't want to move, especially not to New York. And no she didn't want to be assistant to some dragon lady who works in the fashion industry but the redhead had no other choice. For six months she had looked and applied to jobs and somehow the only interviews she managed to secure were in New York, including this one. There wasn't a lot of HR positions available and the ones she wrote to never replied or found someone younger or better.

,,You know Ms Venable, I don't think this is any of your business'' Jeff raised his voice.

,,Pardon me?'' Wilhemina questioned sternly. All she wanted was some more responsibility in the company. More meaningful tasks rather than making sure they have enough drugs or certain entertainment on their flights.

,,You know there is an old saying, if you don't like where you are at the moment, maybe you should move on''. Mutt explained.

,,Yeah maybe it's time to move on from Kinero Robotics Ms Venable'' Jeff agreed.

,,Do I need to remind you, I was the first person you hired when this company was operating out the back of a van? I have given you everything that I have. Every second of every day. I've sacrificed any semblance of a personal life. Friendships, family I don't even have a decent hobby'' Wilhemina argued back.

,,Well we certainly hope you find that somewhere else'' one of them joked before Wilhemina walked away for good.

And that's how Wilhemina had lost her job, they didn't technically fire her and they did come begging after a while as they realised what they lost but Wilhemina had no desire to work for those two anymore.

,,Ms Venable?'' the calling of her name pulls her back into the present.

,,Yes I'm quite aware, I was doing more assistant duties in my recent job rather than HR things so I know how both works'' Wilhemina replies.

,,Very well, I have to report back to Ms Priestly and we will be in touch'' Emily explains as she parts ways with Wilhemina.

As Wilhemina walks out of the meeting room, Emily makes her way back to her desk, sighing slightly and rubbing her temples. ,,Who was that?'' she hears the voice of her boss as she approaches from behind and watches Wilhemina walk out and into the elevator. ,,Um she- she was here for the interview'' Emily states, nervousness overtaking her as it had been far too long since the position was vacant but none of the other applicants had been worthy of the task so far.

,,And how did that go?'' Miranda questions, her eyes piercing through Emily. ,,I'm - she's a bit strange but she's got a perfectly acceptable skill set and I think this may work''. Emily had no idea what she was saying to her boss but somehow there was something about Wilhemina she could see working out. ,,Good give her a call then, I'll meet her tomorrow'' Miranda explains before heading out for lunch.

A little while later Wilhemina makes it back to her apartment, getting ready to make some tea, as she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. ,,Venable'' she answers the phone before the annoying voice of a british ginger she had met with before appears. ,,Hi Ms Venable, this is Emily, we would gladly offer you the position, would you be able to make it to the office by 8am tomorrow? Ms. Priestly would like to meet with you.'' Wilhemina accepts before the call ends.

The rest of her day is spent with usual Wilhemina things, up until six months ago she in fact didn't have any decent hobbies but since moving to New York she took it upon herself to actually try and do things she enjoys. This mostly contained her weird little routines, like a coffee in the morning while reading the newspaper, her usual 3pm walk around the park and occasionally knitting while watching the history channel in the background. Before Wilhemina goes to bed this evening, she starts her computer, googling some more about Runway and her soon to be boss Ms. Priestly.

,,Dragon Lady, career-obsessed, drove away another Mr. Priestly'' one of the headlines reads. This article had been some time ago now and the rest Wilhemina can find is all about the latest fashion shows and events run by Runway. The redhead can't help but chuckle at the Dragon Lady headline.

-------

,,She may see you now'' Emily explains the next morning, after Wilhemina spent some time at her desk, getting familiar with Mirandas schedule, important clients and phone numbers. The redhead gets up, balancing on her cane before walking into her bosses office.

,,And you are.. Ms Venable?'' Miranda questions, taking her reading glasses off and taking a good luck at the redhead standing in-front of her. Usually Miranda would refer to her assistants on a first name basis but somehow she wasn't sure with this one. She was remarkably older than her usual assistants and she definitely has class. Wilhemina didn't notice what an impression she already made on the woman with slightly grey hair.

,,The pleasure is all mine Ms Priestly'' Wilhemina replies, facing an inner battle of needing to be friendly considering it's her first day but her usual bitchy and snarky self coming through.

Miranda's response is a low throaty chuckle before moving on. ,,I assume Emily has got you situated''

,,Yes she did'' Wilhemina replies bluntly and to the point.

,,I'm curious, why Runway?'' Miranda questions as she scans Wilheminas outfit, that is plastered in purple yet again.

,,I have experience in HR and being an assistant and therefore I think this is a good fit''. Wilhemina explains calmly.

,,Are you aware that the colour purple in fashion was very popular in the 1860's and quickly became associated with the royal and wealthy?'' Miranda carries on.

Wilhemina raises an eyebrow, not too sure what to even reply to her statement. ,,What makes you think I'm neither?'' was what Wilhemina had really wanted to say but instead she remained silent.

,,Is there anything I can assist you with this morning?'' Wilhemina eventually asks before Miranda pauses a moment.

,,No that's all'' her boss replies before Wilhemina makes her way back to her desk.

,,Um-'' Emily watches as Wilhemina returns, of course having overheard the entire thing. Slightly dumbfounded at the name choice, the fact Miranda didn't kill her for asking a question and not sending Wilhemina on several runs for coffees and other things.

,,Emily, go fetch those Calvin Klein skirts and some coffee'' Miranda says as she walks out of the office, grabbing her coat and handbag.

,,But-'' Emily has no chance to reply as Miranda is already gone. Her face is overtaken by anger as she glares at Wilhemina. ,,You know this is your job. You are responsible for the phone until I'm back'' Emily explains as she hastily runs out.

Wilhemina mutters a snarky reply under her breath before continuing her work.

About half an hour later Miranda returns to the office, Emily not back yet, she hesitates before handing her coat and bag to Wilhemina. The redhead takes her belongings before hanging them up. Miranda watches carefully noticing how the redhead has to balance on her cane and her movements swift but careful. The boss of Runway can't help but examine Wilhemina's gloves with a hint of disgust.

,,Demarchelier confirmed while you were gone, it's noted in your calendar. I have also rearranged one of your meetings for you, as it would have overlapped with another'' Wilhemina calmly explains as she makes it back to her desk.

,,De- you?'' Miranda stares at Wilhemina a bit dumfounded as this was in fact her first day. ,,Fine'' she simply says, her usual sternness overtaking her again.

Wilhemina can't help but notice her boss staring at her gloves, overtaking by insecurity she snaps ,,Is there some sort of problem?''

Miranda's eyes widen as her gaze meets the redheads. ,,Is this at least real leather or faux leather?'' she questions and Wilhemina can't help but chuckle lowly.

,,And where is Emily with those skirts and coffees? did she die on the way or something?'' Miranda questions, walking back into her office.

[languajix]

TMNT Write Fight Fic: From The Heart and the Hands

Prompt by @violeteyedmedium: "2003 Casey bonding with any of the turtles" + also kind of a little "2003 Capril fluff" for @tmnt-write-fight

Word Count: 1,750

Summary: Casey is looking for help with a birthday present for April. Donny is roped into helping, whether he wants to or not.

"So, uh, April's birthday's comin' up."

"Uh huh," Donny murmured, successfully soldering another wire. "We're planning a party."

"Exactly! But, uh," Casey rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish. "I kiiinda, maybe, still have to get her something. And I dunno what. I-I just know I want it to be something meaningful, you know?"

Donny did know. Casey's crush on April wasn't exactly subtle. "You've got your work cut out for you, I guess. I think everybody here figured out theirs a while ago."

Everybody else was out for the evening, running around on various errands. When Casey had come storming in asking for help, the only turtle home was Donny, elbow-deep in his latest projects. A captive audience.

Casey tilted his head, leaning forward, curious. "Well, what're you gettin' her?"

Yeah, that wasn't going to be very helpful to him. "I'm upgrading her internet," Donny said, just a little smugly, "April's getting the fastest connection available on the other side of the sewer system."

"That's great an' all, but I can't do anything like that. Aw man," Casey held his head, his hip accidentally bumping the table. Donny held his soldering gun carefully out of the way as the wires he was working on started sliding around on him.

Donny's mouth ran away with him a little as he worked to steady his workstation. "I guess this kind of thing must come easier for a turtle."

"That's it!" Casey snapped, brightening up. "I'm gonna get her a turtle!"

"Pardon?" Donny slid the soldering gun back into its base so he could shoot Casey the skeptical look that that comment deserved. "I mean, I guess you could probably bribe Mikey to pop out of a box wearing a funny hat, but I don't think she'd appreciate that very much."

Casey waved away the thought. "No! I mean, uh, like a sea turtle." He motioned like he was holding something small in the palm of his hand. "An antique. For her collection."

It took Donny a moment to recall the assortment of sea turtles that had once decorated April's apartment - ceramic ones, a painting on the wall, a rug on the floor. "Oh. She never explained why she had them all over her place, before…" Before she lost it all in the fire. "She seemed a little embarrassed about it, when we asked."

Casey snorted. "That's because it's different when you're talking about it to a turtle, y'know. Those were presents from her family, growin' up. She used to really like sea turtles. She told me when she was eight she wanted to be a marine biologist." He was so proud of getting the terminology correct, pronouncing every syllable carefully. "She didn't end up doin' that, obviously, but they kept getting her turtle stuff anyways. She ended up liking 'em just for the, uh- for how it looks."

"That's… fun, actually." Donny and his brothers did the same thing for Leo, with Japanese items. Anything they could find in the junkyard, in the trash, sneaking into a shop in the wintertime all bundled up to hand over wads of coins they'd scavenged from beneath sewer grates… piece by piece, holiday after holiday, they'd built up Leo's collection of Japanese poetry, the scrolls on his walls, the mats on his floor. A stack of books on tape to hone his mastery of the language. The occasional imported ramen or other odd treat from the hipster store around the corner.

"Yeah! So, uh, I guess I just gotta find somewhere that sells… turtles."

Donny sighed, slipping off his safety glasses and setting them down on the table. "And you want my help." More like, Don wanted him out of his lab, and if this would get him there…

Casey perked up, then, a jerk so dramatic that he bumped his shoulder into a nearby shelf. It teetered precariously. "Aw, would ya? You're the best, Don! I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Don't mention it," Donny sighed, smiling a little nevertheless. "Seriously. Don't."

---

They tried secondhand shop after specialty store. While Casey talked to the various shopkeepers, Donny lingered by the shelves, bundled up until the only thing poking out of his many layers of coats and scarves was the slightest bit of green, a glimpse of his snout underneath the bridge of his sunglasses.

One by one, they struck out.

"That's it. I don't get it - it's like there aren't any sea turtles in the whole city! I gotta think of somethin' else."

"Like what?" Donny's head turned, and kept turning, attention suddenly laser-focused at the electronics store they were passing. "I- There are some parts of her home computer setup that are in need of an upgrade, I think, if you wanted me to help point a few things out to you."

Casey slumped. "Budget's kinda tight at the moment, Don. I was hopin' for something, y'know, from the heart, more than from the wallet."

From the heart, huh.

Just then, a couple passed them both by, deep in conversation. Donny only caught the tail end of the woman's words: "Oh Brad, it means so much more to me because you made it yourself, with your own two hands!"

Casey turned to look at Donny with an ear-to-ear grin.

Oh man.

---

"I need somethin' I can do that'll turn out really really good with no trainin' or practice, you see," Casey explained to the art store worker who was staring at him with the bored expression of an employee not paid nearly enough to deal with Casey Jones.

Donny poked his way curiously through wood bits and glue, racks of bobbins, fake flowers (he wasn't entirely sure how that counted as artistic, but okay,) and a scattered jar or nine of glaze. He couldn't say he'd ever been in a craft store, other than a quick in and out to get Raph some yarn, once or twice.

Apparently the employee wasn't any help, because Casey ended up stumbling back towards Donny, knocking into various objects and causing a couple of racks to tilt precariously as he went. He started poking through things, too, though with a lot less grace.

"Don! Look at this little guy!" Casey said loudly, causing half the heads in the store to turn towards them. Donny pulled his hood lower over his face. "It's a sea turtle! We found one!"

Pinched between his fingers was a paint-by-numbers kit. Right in the center was a sea turtle, swimming through the ocean, framed on either side by wiggling kelp. It was clearly meant for adults; the lines were close together, an incredible amount of detail, only subtle variations between colors.

"Casey, those kinds of projects…" Donny wasn't sure how to explain in a way that wasn't kind of mean. "…they take… patience. And precision. To come out well. And I don't think…"

Casey waved him off. "Oh, look! Here's one for you!" He held up a different kit - a scene with a gorgeous library. If it were real, Donny would be salivating. It looked equally complex, though. "We should do 'em together! Have a, you know, art night."

Donny sighed.

Guess they were doing this.

---

Casey was trying hard, to his credit. When his first little paint bucket dumped out on the table, he'd scrambled to right it, scooping it back in and cleaning up after himself. The second and third and sixth time, too.

After Donny had managed to wrangle some sort of excuse to his brothers about why he wouldn't be home, they'd set up in Casey's apartment, laying out their paints and brushes across his dining table, sitting across from each other. Casey's cassette tape collection was pretty extensive, and after a little back-and-forth they'd managed to settle on some classic rock.

It wasn't how he'd planned to spend his evening, but honestly, Donny was finding it kind of relaxing.

Every time Donny peeked up from his own project, Casey was covered in more and more colors of paint - his nose, his forehead, his hair. His hand, all the way up to his wrist, with dabs of color along his arms up to his shoulder. As he leaned forward over the small canvas, Casey pinched the tiny brush between his big fingers, gnarled from past breaks, with his tongue stuck out in concentration.

He was trying so hard.

"Okay. I think I got this. Whadda ya think, Don?" Casey asked him after a period of focused silence, picking up the little canvas with his paint-covered fingers, uncaring about the various multicolored prints he was leaving on the margins.

If Donny squinted, he thought he could make out the vague impression of a sea turtle. A lumpy, oddly colored sea turtle. Casey had definitely mixed up more than a few numbers, and possibly paints, and had not quite stuck to the lines that were supposed to guide him.

"I think… April will appreciate it because you spent the time and effort on it, Case," he managed.

He'd seen her hang up a few blobby shapes on her wall that she'd called modern art. Donny didn't get the hype, but he'd shrugged it off as not being the target audience for whatever it was. This would probably fit right in, honestly.

Casey grinned, and Donny wondered how he'd gotten paint on his teeth.

Okay, this was kind of fun.

---

April stared at the painting. "What a beautiful… modern art piece?" she tried, holding it up as though seeing it from a slightly different angle would make it all come together.

Casey's shoulders were up to his ears, sheepish. "It's supposed to be a sea turtle," he mumbled, looking away, face growing hot. He'd tried! He really had!

She paused to consider that, and then he heard her breathe out a surprised little 'oh!' as she seemed to figure it out.

"It's- its lovely." Seeming to pick up on his embarrassment, she put a hand on his arm. "Really, Casey," she said earnestly, "it means so much more to me because you made it yourself, with your own two hands."

Casey grinned, a little disbelieving. "You sure?" he asked, "because I-I know it's not going up in the Met anytime soon, but-"

She smiled back. "No, no, Casey, I think it'll fit right in, actually."

(The next time he came over, she had started her sea turtle collection again, but more importantly, his painting was up on the wall.)

[moongothic]

Just a quick thought but.

Considdering the WG created the Shichibukai System with the idea of having them be "pirates who crush other pirates"...

Okay so we unfortunately don't know when Moria joined the Shichibukai, if that was pre-Kaidou Clash or post-Kaidou Clash, info which would be very useful here but 🤷‍♂️. However we do know that Crocodile joined the Shichibukai before his clash with Whitebeard-- which is interesting, because Crocodile proceeded to get his ass kicked, but still retained his position. Keep in mind, the only reason the Government didn't get rid of Moria the second he lost to Luffy (a menace but still a rookie) was because they knew they needed every man they had available for the incoming war with Whitebeard. Had it not been for that they would've replaced Moria immidiately, and hey, they then did proceed to do that right after the war was over. So the fact they not only kept Crocodile despite getting his ass kicked, but kept him around for like 20~ish years is a bit wild

And that just makes me wonder... Is it possible the World Government could've ordered some of their newly recruited Shichibukai back in the day to go and try to take down the Yonkou on the WG's behalf?

Again, if we knew more about Moria here this would actually be easier to speculate about but since we don't know about his timeline, there's no way to fully tell for sure (btw yes his Wiki page claims he became a Shichibukai after fighting Kaidou, but since that was "revealed" in a trivia book, I would take it with a massive grain of salt)

But if the Yonkou Dethroning Attempts were orders from the WG, it'd actually explain the general attitude amongst the Shichibukai to not actually follow orders from the Government, since there'd be two whole survivors to tell the tale why you don't follow the Government's orders. (Which would also reframe why the Government Really Wanted Kuma to follow every single order given to him) It'd also reframe Crocodile's anger at the Government a little (since I'm sure the WG didn't give a shit about what had actually happened to him), as well as Moria's fury when Kuma showed up at Thriller Bark and Moria learned that the WG was assuming he was going to lose to the Strawhats, requiring back-up

It would also explain why Crocodile got to keep his position despite his defeat, because while Crocodile might've failed, they could still see him as useful as he had survived a clash against The Most Powerful Man In The World (same for Moria if he did go fight Kaidou under the Government's orders)

And man... Like the Shichibukai were framed as "Government bootlicking losers who had abandoned their pirating spirit" when they were first introduced, but as time has gone we have seen that some people took the position for protection. Hancock for to protect her people, Jinbei for the Sun Pirates to get pardoned... And with Kuma, it's just blackmail. It really would be sad if Crocodile (and maybe Moria too) got essentially groomed into the position as young pirates, given all these promises of things they'd be allowed to do/given if they follow orders, only to realize the Government sees them as nothing more than tools

[cath-lic]

hello!!!! first of all, i love your blog and i love how you embrace your sexuality and love god :3 what would you recommend for someone who was hurt by religion? (particularly catholicism). it made me paranoid, scrupulous. as a neurodivergent woman with disability, i always felt that i don’t fit, so i’m no longer religious. is it okay to not like THE church (as an institution) but still love God? and do you have any other social media so we could speak more on it? ♥️

hello my sibling!! thank you very much for the sweet compliment.

to be honest, (and assuming you’re also american, though pardon me if i’m wrong), i think we’re all scarred from american christianity. i’m not trying to minimize your trauma; rather, i’m letting you know that i can empathize with you a little bit.

this might need its own post, but i’m seeing scrupulosity becoming more and more of a problem in the current online age, on both sides of the political spectrum. i think you’d be surprised at how many people feel very similar to you, even if they’re not religious, either. tumblr culture, especially, emphasizes scrupulosity (and to be honest, i think all social media does—i’ve been thinking about doing a social media cleanse recently because of this very thing).

you may feel as though you don’t fit in, but i’d like to remind you that mary magdalene, one of christ’s closest disciples, also faced her own problems with mental illness. scripture states that she was possessed by demons, and although of course we can’t be sure whether it was actual possession or mental illness, i think it’s safe to say that she would absolutely know where you’re coming from. (i say this not to go “you can conquer your mental illness if you believe enough,” but instead to assure you that our beloved blorbos from the bible would understand our struggles even today).

there are many disabled people in the bible. though, of course, they are very often the subjects of miracle healing, it is telling that jesus emphasizes that their disability is not a mark of sin or a matter of “deserving it,” it’s simply a facet of them.

there are countless stories i could cite, but i think it boils down to this: jesus is with the poor, the disabled, the meek, the unclean, and the ostracized at all times. jesus was poor and ostracized. he is not with one singular nation or ideology. if he sees someone being mistreated, regardless of who they are or what they’ve done, he is with them.

i promise you, you fit.

as for whether it’s okay to not like the church, and for what i might recommend—again, i can’t offer religious advice, but i can offer my opinion.

i think it’s fine to dislike the church. to be honest, they haven’t given us a whole lot of reasons to like them! god was here before the church and he’ll be here after the church. some might say that loving god is loving the church, which is a whole other discussion, but in short, god understands. IMO, it is more important to love yourself, your neighbor, and love through and with god, than to devote yourself to an institution. after all, contemporarily, the big institutions of the time weren’t exactly super hep on christianity.

part of strengthening my relationship with god was through finding a church i really enjoyed. this, of course, might not be desirable or available to you. i would say that finding a community who can accept both your sexuality & your faith (easier said than done) is the truest way you can establish your own version of church.

building and supporting a loving community is probably the most rewarding thing i can think of, regardless of someone’s faith/lack thereof. i’ve often dreamed of establishing a little trans christian commune, actually, although i know it’s just a fantasy. but i think creating a network of people who care for one another and can live and work in harmony is about the closest we can get to heaven on earth!

while i do have other social media, i don’t have any other faith-related accounts. you’re very welcome to make a side blog and message me here, or join the trans catholics discord. if these aren’t options for you, though, i understand—you’re ofc welcome to send me another ask whenever you’d like.

good night, my sibling. have a wonderful weekend, and god bless ❤️❤️❤️

[selya711-twiste]

bought some sparkles and finally thought of a request i wanted to send in here, could u write male yuu and rollo lighting some kiddy fireworks together?? specifically kiddy fireworks. like those sparklers and mini fountains... thank ye kindly

Rollo Flamme x reader Yuu sneaks out of campus during the winter break to come to visit Noble Bell College again, weeks after the symposium.

hi I'm back for like 5 minutes just to accomplish this request since it's now 2023 ... I'll get back to the regular reqs as soon as this is done i just sorta wanna rush seasonal ones a bit more before the season expires ahahahaaa. ;w; dont ask me when this happens in episode 4's timeline... call it the rollo timeline...... its not the first time twst has made you question when anything is happening...

The streets of the City of Flowers remain colorful despite the thick blankets of snow that weren't there before when Yuu was here last Halloween. He holds his bag close to himself while walking downtown, looking for a certain address...

Yuu left Grim to Ramshackle and the ghosts while hoping that the winter feast Crowley had prepared for his dorm would be enough to keep him entertained.

"Are you sure you want to go by yourself?" The headmaster asked him just before he left. The Dark Mirror was prepared just for this small trip during the break. Yuu explained to Crowley that he had become close with a student from Noble Bell College during the event and he wanted to see him again. Eventually, Crowley let him go after finding out it was the student council president himself.

Yuu would surely be in good hands.

༺ ❃ ༻

Yuu places his things down as Rollo still stands nearby. What could he possibly want to show him in the middle of winter? He stares at the small items Yuu is taking out of his bag. Some are store-brought, and the rest are locally made from some stalls in the city itself.

They're small fireworks. It reminds him of the festival where the two of them first met.

"I should've known," Rollo calmly sighs and gives the other a small smile. He adjusts the scarf around his neck as his voice returns Yuu's attention to him.

"Did you think I would come here for something else?" He hands him a sparkler and wonders if Rollo was going to accept it. Fortunately, he does take it from Yuu's hand. "This city is your domain, after all."

"You should know more than anyone else how the Night Raven students may possibly still feel about me. Look at you, you didn't even bring anyone with you," he laughs lowly. Yuu doesn't attempt to argue further since he wasn't wrong. The boys back at NRC would never think of wanting to see him again, and they would have stopped Yuu from leaving.

"Can we spend time together without worrying about anyone else?"

"You're right… Pardon me," he brings his hand to his face to cover his lips with his scarf. Yuu thinks to himself that this was the winter edition of his handkerchief habit.

When they exchanged numbers last fall, Yuu was surprised he had a Magicam account at all, even if Rollo says he doesn't use it often. He thought they would be exchanging letters as soon as the symposium came to an end. Instead, they've been secretly chatting from time to time. If the others knew, they would most definitely call Rollo a red flag, so Yuu never spoke of him to others.

Rollo observes the object in his hand, a stick that has yet to be lit with regular fire. One can perform tricks with their magic wand to display the same type of light that comes out of a sparkler, but this one is readily available to anyone, mage or not. Even someone like Yuu can come to engage with such a beautiful display without endangering himself in Rollo's eyes.

Yuu places a hand in his coat pocket to fetch his lighter but thinks of asking Rollo a small question. "All it needs is a small spark, so maybe it'd be faster if you lit these up for us instead," Yuu smiles innocently. It takes Rollo out of his head, being asked to cast magic like this…

"Or not, I was just kidding," he fishes the lighter out of his hand anyway when Rollo takes it from him.

"I would, for you, but I also figured this would be nicer," he flicks it open and lights the tip of their sparklers one at a time. Yuu wonders what Rollo meant by that because it could go two ways.

Maybe he meant it would be nice for them to not use any magic at all so Yuu wouldn't feel alienated like he does in NRC, even if his schoolmates didn't intend to make him feel left out. On the other hand, it's more likely that Rollo meant that it would be a good chance for Yuu to be away from people who show off magic carelessly. Yuu doesn't know how much he's developed since.

Either way, he felt nice about the temporary feeling of being with someone normal to him. It was like he was back in his world where he was just a regular person spending New Year like he would with his friends and family back home.

Their sparklers light up and flicker right in front of them, the gold flashes standing out against the backdrop of snow. Rollo holds his sparkler still when Yuu waves his around as if he were drawing in the air.

Rollo smiles to himself and decides to mimic his movements, but he isn't as vigorous as Yuu. He's calm and composed and preferred to move his sparkler like a conductor compared to his companion. "It feels nice being with you again," Yuu smiles while drawing an infinity symbol with his sparkler.

Soon enough their fireworks go out, but to Rollo, Yuu was much brighter and more delightful to look at than their sparklers combined. "Do you have more, by any chance?" He asks as if his bag isn't wide open next to them with more kiddy fireworks.

"I got a mini fountain."

Rollo assists Yuu in helping set it up even if he said otherwise. "I'm the one who planned to meet up with you for this, and I'm fine doing it on my own, Rollo."

"You went through the trouble of traveling here all the way from your campus just to light some fireworks with me, this is one of the ways I can repay you," he answers and lights up the wick. The two of them wordlessly step back as the mini-fountain's sparks grow bigger and bigger. It's brighter than the handheld fireworks just a few minutes ago and it bursts into a tower of yellows, reds, greens, and blues. It's loud from where they're standing, but noises such as these are expected in the season.

Rollo repeats Yuu's words in his head. He hasn't expressed how much he looked forward to seeing him again as well. Academic activities tend to become heavier as winter comes until it was time for a break, and here they finally found time for one another.

Once upon a time, he spent the end of his year with someone like this as well. They had all these small and handheld fireworks and safely played with fire like they were casting magic while wishing their new years resolutions would come true.

The time one spends with others is fleeting, and moments last as long as these fireworks. Gone in a few seconds, but a beautiful explosion of colors that one can look back on with the same joy they felt in that instance.

"What are your plans for this year, Yuu?" Rollo clasps his hands together as soon as the mini-fountain slowly dies down to a more bearable volume than when it was at its peak. He looks to his side where Yuu was standing.

"Survive. How about you?"

It was such a blunt answer, and Rollo pities him after seeing the expression he made saying this.

"Well, I intend to... make it up to those I've wronged in the past, perhaps self-reflect on certain things..." How could he sound so sure yet unsure at the same time? Yuu thinks to himself this. Either way, he knows fully what Rollo meant and he admires how much he wants to change for the better. Letting go of baggage is expected on New Year, after all.

"If I'm still alive by term break, I'm thinking of coming over to visit you again to see your progress," he smiles while placing a hand over his.

"Why do you speak like you have a foot in the grave? This must be their doing. Maybe you shouldn't return to Nigh Raven College."

"Rollo!"

[edalene-slater-ffxiv]

DWC - May 2024 - Day 7 - Captivate

@daily-writing-challenge

Time between assignments was wonderful for any number of reasons, particularly when one spent a majority of their downtime on an island with a fully stocked bar readily available to them. 

However, when too much time passed while waiting for the next set of shipping manifests or the next assignment people started to get restless…and when people started to get restless they started asking questions. Sometimes questions they really didn’t think all the way through - especially considering the locale.

“So…what does one have to do to capture your attention, miss Slater?”

Edalene paused, turning slowly to look over her right shoulder.

She wasn’t in the Smoking Crow - she wasn’t even near the bar - she was standing on the deck of the Sirensong, having just left a meeting in the Captain’s quarters regarding the next assignment and the last thing she expected to be asked about was something like that.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your attention, your fancy - what’s one need to do?”

She had heard correctly, and it was all she could do not to roll her eye and not to give an irritated sigh. Bad enough she dealt with these types of advances at the bar, but on the deck of the ship as well?”

“Could start by not asking that while on the job. That’s one.”

“We’re not -”

“We’re on the ship, are we not? Then we’re on the job. Do your job well enough and you might have caught my attention anyway. The fact that I’ve never seen you before might be a good indication that you’re not working hard enough anyway. Two -” she crossed her arms over her chest, giving the man - boy really, a critical once over, “- without going too far into it, since it seems like surface level details might be more than enough for this conversation. I like my men with a bit more muscle on them. And three, honestly this might be the most important detail here…we’re working on the same ship? I’m not interested in sleeping with you. Maybe try again when all three of those details change, hm?” She offered a quick wink before heading down off the ship and towards the dock, leaving the poor boy gawking on the deck.  

Later that evening, once settled down in her usual spot at the end of the bar, good eye facing the crowd, she quirked an eyebrow as a double whiskey was set down in front of her along with a bottle. 

“Here you made a fellow cry this morning.”

“There are enough difficult dynamics that happen on the ship, last thing I need is to cause more by sleeping with someone on the crew.”

“That hold true for the folks in there?” The barkeep leaned forward, resting his head against his palm with a cheeky grin.

Her eye narrowed dangerously. “Do I work directly with all the folks in here? No. So no.” 

“So tell me then, Edalene Slater - besides what you said to make the poor boy cry this morning…what does one have to do to capture your attention?” She lifted her glass, taking a long sip before exhaling slowly. “If I have to tell you, then the chances of you capturing it are slim to none anyway. Better luck next time.”

[fiction-box]

How about being kidnapped together with Dimitri and Ashe x reader separately? Thanks so much! ❤️

No problem at all! These did run a little long, so I think I will post them separately. They will still come out around the same time, no worries! I had so much fun thinking about the circumstances surrounding these (as well as how to make them seem realistically romantic despite the circumstances). May this be what you're looking for!

I have been having issues with tumblr just omitting entire sentences from my works, so I really hope the whole thing comes out this time.

Requests are open. The story will be continued under the cut.

Ashe:

Sore, uncomfortable, and exhausted, you tried to peel your eyes open.

The air was too thick, your surroundings dark save for the light shining from the torch on the wall.

On the wall opposite the bars you sat behind.

Frantic, you tried to wake yourself up a bit more by getting up, though you were now aware you were tied to something.

Or rather, to someone.

Turning your head, you caught sight of a mop of gray hair on a limp body. The two of you were tied together at the wrists by what felt like rope.

You shifted your arms, trying to rotate your wrists or loosen the hold in some way, but to no avail.

The sound of footsteps approached down the hall toward your cell. You needed more time…an escape plan…and it would probably be best if your companion were conscious.

In a moment of quick thinking, you lowered your head and rearranged your body into the position in which you remember waking up. If you could buy some time, the other person might wake up naturally after the guards had made their rounds. Shutting your eyes and steadying your breathing, you tried to sharpen your ears and listen.

There were two pairs of footsteps, one heavier and clunkier than the other. The first was obviously a physical fighter while the swishing of robes alerted you to a potential mage.

Two captives, two captors, three conscious, one cell, and if you remembered correctly based on the bars’ complicated appearance…

No key.

But there were strange sounds regardless, and after something like beeping came the creaking of the iron. Your cage had been opened.

Their footsteps grew even closer as every fiber of your being went into playing the part of an unconscious victim.

A voice, low and gruff.

“Wake them up.”

All for nothing, you supposed.

Sooner than your thought could finish, a sensation like lightning ripped through your whole body. A horrifying scream was torn through your throat. Not that you could process it while you felt like you were burning on the inside.

It stopped just as suddenly, but your throat had been left hoarse and your body in pain. You struggled to catch your breath.

“What’s going on? Why are we here?”

It seemed your suffering was enough to startle that boy awake.

…wait, Ashe?

“You don’t need to know anything. We will ask and you will answer. Immediately. Give us your names.”

Gritting your teeth, you complied. It would probably be best to do what they said. Neither of you had power here, and they clearly weren’t afraid of enforcing authority.

There was a sharp intake of breath behind you as you gave them your name.

“Something wrong, boy?” the mage pushed.

“...no. Ashe Ubert.”

The axe-wielding warrior turned to his companion, enraged.

“Are you fucking kidding me? This is like…the beans and rice of the group.”

“Beg pardon?” the dark mage responded testily.

“You kidnapped the only two commoners without crests. Literally the most useless-” he made a noise, dangerous yet exasperated. “At least nab the prince’s advisor!”

“Goddess, no,” you breathed, just low enough that the only person who might’ve heard you would have been Ashe.

These people were probably looking for a bargaining chip in the form of you two. Maybe they wanted money, maybe something else, but…

There’s no way Rhea would give anything for an herbalist’s daughter and the adopted son of a church dissenter.

“Just hang on,” Ashe muttered, “we’ll find a way out of this.”

“They came directly from the officer’s academy, I assure you. They must mean something, at least to the prince.”

“Screw the Kingdom! It’s the Church we’re after-”

“And you’re the one that said the Church and Kingdom were close enough that the Archbishop would- what was it you said? ‘Give an arm and a leg to keep them safe?’”

“You know damn well I meant…”

Shifting your wrists a bit, you stifled a gasp. Leaning backward into Ashe, you turned your head away from the two men.

“Remember when they used that lightning spell on me?” you whispered.

“How could I forget that?” he shuddered, keeping his gaze forward. “Are you feeling okay?”

You almost shook your head before remembering you didn’t want to be caught conversing.

“Nevermind that. The rope; it’s frayed.”

No response came, though you felt him shift his wrists as if to test your claim.

“I don’t…do we break it or wait?” you shifted your head so that you were staring straight at the wall again.

Subtly, Ashe sighed and leaned his head back into yours. You felt your hair shift left, then right, then left and right again.

Patience it was.

“Well, we’re not giving them back, of course,” the mage scoffed. “Seven opponents are more manageable than nine any day. Someone will come for these two.”

“Hey girl!” the warrior barked at you, “You got a fiance or something? Anyone that’d care enough to come for you?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Ashe bit back before you could respond.

You said nothing, hoping your classmate had a plan.

The man sighed, “Just one disappointment after another with you guys, huh?”

“Fine then,” the mage had grown tired of this, it seemed. “Give us one reason we shouldn’t kill you right here.”

Again, Ashe with the quick thinking while all you could do was stiffen in fear.

“She’s a prodigal herbalist; good with remedies, antidotes…probably poisons too, but that’s never come up in conversation,” he faked a laugh.

What the hell was he doing?

“I don’t know what you guys are up to, but you’d be hard pressed to find someone with her skills; let alone one willing to work with you.”

“Hmm…” the dark mage pondered, “...be nice to have an expert on the field…a cleric can only do so much, but to have a direct producer of…”

“Not so fast; I’m calling your bluff- Ashe, was it?” he turned to you, “What can you really do, girl? And why the hell would you up and work for us? I’ve got a hard time believing you’d betray your friends so quickly.”

You sighed. Everything was moving way too quickly. At this rate, you feared being branded a traitor.

“I…have experience cultivating white verona, golden apples- even Ailell Pomegranates with the right resources.”

“Don’t forget ambrosia.”

“-right, thank you. Some things take longer, like gathering and steaming magic herbs or growing fruit of life, but they can be done. Most people avoid learning how because of the time it takes; however, my family has owned one of the few instructional books on the process for generations.”

“And why suddenly use it for us?”

You bit your lip, thinking.

“It’s true that I don’t know who you are…but I do know that you can keep us safe. I’ll only help you if you keep us both alive, unharmed, and together.”

Footsteps down the hallway. A commotion, just quiet enough that you and Ashe could hear with your younger ears.

Ashe began moving his wrists.

“I don’t know about all that, miss,” the barbarian drawled. “Keeping you both untied and unlocked sounds like a recipe for trouble. How about we leave him down here, and you can see him on weekends?”

The other man snickered, approaching presumably to break you two apart and imprison Ashe individually.

Noises from the hall grew louder, but you kept their attention by rotating to hide your wrists and placing yourself slightly in front of your friend.

“If you only permit me to see him so often, that deal can easily be changed to give me less and less time until I’m not even sure he’d be alive anymore!” you shouted at them. This would both prove a point and hopefully alert whoever had started the scuffle down the hall. “The hour I lose sight of him shall be the hour of my death! You can accept my deal and help yourselves out, or you can see how much of a mess I can make before I go down!”

Ashe’s breath hitched from behind you as the warrior glared down upon you both.

A moment later, the archer’s wrists were free, and he began to work on pulling the remains of the rope away from yours.

“Fine, fine,” the mage waved his hand in the air, unconcerned, “Let’s get you two untied and on your feet. I’m rather interested in just what you have to offer-”

“P-Professor?” Ashe asked incredulously from behind you. “How did you find us?”

“The hell?” the two men whipped around, snapping their heads to the door.

Your classmate grabbed your wrist, now free from restraint, and pulled you up off the ground. Bumping into the monk, he led you out of the room before swinging you in front of him, giving you a push down the hall.

“Go! I’ll be right behind you!”

So you ran, no questions asked as you heard the cell slam shut from somewhere behind you. A thunder spell, a string of rough curses, and a set of footsteps quickly approaching followed the sound.

“Come on! I don’t know how much time we have!”

“This way!” you called, turning left down a corridor.

Ashe overtook you slightly only to collide with an enemy swordsman as he rounded the corner. You kicked the enemy’s side as the archer scrambled to his feet, the two of you continuing down the corridor after you had taken his sword for yourself.

Finally, after several more turns, you located the source of the commotion.

It seemed your house really did care enough to come for you.

“They’re right here, your highness!” Ingrid shouted over the fray as she caught sight of you two.

“Mercedes, head over and make sure they’re okay. Dedue, cover the back! Felix, lead us out of here!”

“...I still can’t believe we went behind the Church’s back for this…” Annette fired off another spell at the oncoming reinforcements.

“Not hard to understand why we had to in the first place,” Sylvain frowned. “They’ve made it pretty clear where their priorities lie.”

“We’re here for you,” Felix called back to you and Ashe, cutting a way out.

Slowly but surely, your friends guided you to safety. A quick explanation revealed that Professor Byleth was spending his time keeping the Archbishop and her advisors occupied. The goal was to complete the mission before the house’s absence was noticed; a feat accomplished only by bribing the guards at the gate.

And when the eight of you returned to the monastery, the Blue Lions’ bond had been made stronger by your shared escapade.

Your house was your family after all, and no one in the world could keep you apart.

[jomiddlemarch]

While You Were Sleeping

Chapter 3

It had been an unseasonably chilly day according to their hosts, so the windows of the suite were closed tight, curtains drawn, all outside noise muffled. It was late, the staff all gone to their rooms, and they’d both finished their evening ablutions, the tap shut off. They lay next to each other in the bed, having mutually agreed to go to sleep. There was nothing but the darkness leavened with silvery blue moonlight and a soft, all-encompassing quiet. 

And then an unmistakable growl.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. But it was clearly a moment where they were both working out what to say, how to react, and in Hermione’s case, choking back a squawk of laughter which Draco would be sure to see as rudely mocking. Likely to, anyway.

“I beg—”

“You never beg,” Hermione interrupted, turning on her side so she could see him better. “You were going to ask for my pardon and you needn’t.”

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said. He sounded embarrassed. To be fair, if such a sound had come from her body, she would have wanted to spontaneously combust or Apparate to the moon, preferably a one-way trip for the first intergalactic Apparition that was reliably documented (she didn’t count that report from Durmstrang—if anyone got there first, it would be one of the up-and-comers from Uagadou, probably that tall witch from Lagos who sang all her incantations like Maria Callas.)

“You didn’t. I was a little startled, but not especially surprised,” she said. It was easy to be more open in the shared bed, the quilted counterpane rendered silken with the moonlight, everything around them soft, intimate. Draco seemed like another person, a man she’d never met before, except that she recognized him better at night or at least she allowed herself to admit she liked what she discovered. Very much indeed.

“No?”

“I will say you’re quite a bit louder than Harry ever was,” Hermione said, a naughty part of her unable to resist teasing.

“My shame is complete. Depthless as the Lost Sea, countless as the stars,” Draco said wryly. He was regaining his equanimity, though an additional growl, possibly louder than the first one, made him pause and Hermione chuckle.

“Don’t feel bad about it,” she said. “You’re hungry, there’s no shame in it. No surprise, either. You missed lunch. And dinner.”

I missed you, she didn’t say but thought. Nothing tasted as good without you there, she didn’t add but heard her voice murmuring. 

“I got caught up with some of the regulatory issues, their legal system is sometimes completely orthogonal to ours. It’s both fascinating and infuriating,” he said. “Lost track of time, I suppose.”

“I understand. It happens to me too, I get immersed in whatever I’m researching and then I come out of it, it’s like I’m surfacing from swimming underwater and it’s hours later, leagues away. The Ravenclaws call it perdu-trouvée, I guess Flamel was known for it too,” she said.

His stomach growled again, somehow with even more volume. 

“I’ll go find something, there must be something in the kitchen,” he said.

“Don’t,” she said, reaching over to lay a hand on his shoulder. He grew very still. “I noticed you weren’t at lunch and dinner. I made…arrangements for us.”

“Arrangements?” he repeated. 

“I knew you missed both those meals and that you wouldn’t ask anyone to get you something to eat—”

“It’s ill-mannered. Here and at home, unless there’s a House-elf available and I know how you feel about them,” he interjected.

“I know. I knew you’d say all that, do all that. Or not do, as the case may be. So I did,” she said, dropping her hand from his shoulder. She could feel the warmth of him, the restraint, as if it had been branded like a rune into her palm. “I suppose I’m living down to all your Pureblood supremacist inculcated expectations of me, but I knew we’d end up here, with your stomach growling louder than a dyspeptic dragon grumbling over its hoard.”

“The only expectation I’ve ever truly had of you is that you’ll exceed whatever measure or possibility I could ever conceive of,” he said. “I admit that as a child, I expressed this very poorly.”

“As a child? You were a child in seventh year?” Hermione said.

“I was slow to mature,” he shrugged. “Unlike some. And I didn’t have access to a Time-turner to help me along.” 

“I got a hamper. For you,” Hermione said. Draco was starting to take the conversation into uncharted waters and if she was going to navigate them, she at least wanted to get some food into him first. “A basket from the kitchen, so you could have a midnight snack. A meal, actually. Like a picnic. I asked them to include a cloth, cutlery, proper stemware.”

“I know what a hamper is, Hermione,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure if the Wizarding aristocracy had picnics or only elegant teas held in plein air. Harry was raised with Muggles, the Weasleys just Levitated their kitchen table into the garden because of the gnomes, and Neville and his gran prefer walking tours with Thermoses filled with tea and a packet of cheese and pickle sandwiches. I was afraid to ask Luna,” Hermione said.

“They always say you’re the brightest witch of our age,” Draco replied, choosing not to comment on the Weasley gnomes, the Longbottom predilection for non-magical Thermoses and the questionable reality Luna Lovegood inhabited, in favor of praising her with nary a smirk to be seen.

“Of your age, her age, they say. Not our. Not like I’m the most brilliant witch of the current, post-Dumbledore era,” Hermione said, frowning. She’d had a plan for this midnight snack revelation, and he was derailing her and while her plan had some accommodations built in, they were all centered around the idea he’d reject picnics or eating late at night or find it all terribly plebian. Not that he’d offer compliments that she didn’t deserve with what sounded like utter sincerity. 

“That’s why they’re wrong and you’re the brightest witch of our age,” Draco said. “Though I also prefer most brilliant. More gravitas to it. But I believe I’m upsetting your plans. There’s a midnight snack to be consumed, picnic-style, if we want to keep from waking the whole building with my obstreperous digestive system.”

“You’ve managed to be both incorrigible and correct, so I’m just going to get the hamper and you’ll eat,” she said.

“We’ll eat,” he said. “Surely you don’t think I’m going to gorge myself in front of you while you don’t take even one bite.”

“Fine,” she said, getting out of the bed and going over to the wardrobe that held her clothes and right now, an oversized but magically lightened hamper she would have struggled to lift without the enchantment. As it was, she made it only halfway back to the bed before Draco came and took the basket out of her arms and carried it the remaining distance, allowing her quite the delicious view of his delicious arse in his pinstriped pyjama bottoms, not a sight she would ordinarily have imagined could be erotic.

“Do you want to open it or shall I?” he said, kneeling on his side of the bed and his side of the hamper. Hermione hiked up the hem of her nightdress so she could sit cross-legged on her side and gestured for him to go ahead. He lifted the lid and took out the cloth first, spreading it out between them, then began to narrate as he took out one item after another.

“Orange pippins, grapes, Double Gloucester—you had them source Double Gloucester for me? Carr’s water biscuits, those little spanakopita-like things they had the first night and they’re still warm, a jar of olives, some sort of savory pie—”

“Pork, with sage and a little thyme,” Hermione put in.

“There’s a tureen—”

“Potage parmentier,” she said, before he opened the lid and spilled any. “The tureen is charmed to stay at the perfect temperature for serving.”

“Brandy snaps, jam roly-poly and macarons?”

“Those are pistachio. It’s not an allusion to you being Slytherin,” Hermione said. “There ought to be a Chenin Blanc and a flask of Earl Grey tea to go with the meal and dessert.”

“This isn’t a snack, it’s a feast,” Draco said, settling back on his heels. Even in the moonlight, which etched everything in silverpoint, she could make out the flush in his cheeks. “And it’s all my favorites. Every single one."

“Yes. As I said, I thought you’d be hungry,” she replied.

“A sandwich would have been fine. Some bread and butter,” he said. “How did you know—"

“Brightest witch, as you said. I pay attention to details, they’re important,” she said, smiling, but meaning it. Harry and Ron would be taken in by just the smile. Draco wouldn’t. “I know you strive to require nothing from people now, but that’s not how I operate. And I’ve been hungry before, it’s not something I take lightly.” 

I want to see you satisfied, she didn’t add. It was enough to think it. This time…

“We didn’t eat all these things here,” Draco said.

“No, I did some research. Reached out to access primary sources,” she said.

“You contacted Narcissa?” he asked. Could a person be aghast and impressed in only three words? It seemed he was. It also seemed he called his mother by her first name, a fact she filed away for later consideration.

“Andromeda. We belong to the same book club. It wasn’t a message out of the blue,” Hermione said. “I remembered you ate all the brandy snaps when we were at Hogwarts, you glutton. It’s a wonder you had any teeth left in your head.”

“You must like brandy snaps too,” he said. “I assume that’s why you noticed me eating more than my fair share.”

“It was at first,” she said. When they were hunting Horcruxes, she’d thought about him, how he’d looked so eager taking some from the platter, how he’d closed his eyes with the first bite. How ordinary his delight was and how it changed his face to have a moment of simple happiness. There was less darkness around him now, which she attributed to being fifteen years out from being under the thumb of a megalomaniacal chimerical soul-shredded monster who was quite frankly rather boring when he wasn’t being utterly annihilating and then, of course, his pompous father had been relegated to the Endless level of Azkaban. She wanted to see Draco’s face when he ate a sweet now, what expression there would be in his grey eyes when he opened them and looked at her.

“Let’s start with them, then,” he said. He offered her a brandy snap, waiting for her to take it out of his hand. “You did agree I wouldn’t eat alone.”

“Do you often eat dessert first?” she said.

“May I make a confession?” he asked. She nodded, dimly aware she held a brandy snap in her wand hand and that Draco had glanced down at her mouth after he spoke. “Sometimes, it’s all I eat. Sometimes, all I want is to taste something sweet, Hermione.”

[rudycomics]

Over the past few months I've buckled down to take The Red Muscle more seriously in a lot of ways: I've been writing upcoming chapters which made me see big holes in character development with little options to explore, but at the same time I've also been printing physical copies of the comic to sell in person and the opportunity presented itself to go back and make changes to old chapters and improve the story.

At first, I redrew chapter 1 a while ago for print because the original drawings were SO rough. When the next convention was coming up I felt like I should do the same treatment for ch2 and now I'm kind of steamrolling through and really crystallizing the ideas I wanted to explore with Red Muscle. It's also really rewarding to see just how much I've learned about making good comic pages when I get to redraw old ones I wasn't satisfied with. Above is the first page of the new Chapter 2 (first image) compared to the the original page from 2017, as an example.

I mostly wanted to make this post to talk about my plans for the comic going forward. I don't plan on redrawing ALL the chapters (We're going to stop at ch5 I believe), but want you to think of this as a sort of Director's Cut or like a soft restart of the comic. I think enough will change in these first 5 chapters that will make it a much more competent and compelling story, as I lean in more on Scarlet and Edgar's relationship and their little slice of life moments. I think I want to restart the tapas drip feed with the updated pages starting from chapter 2, so hopefully I can get people excited about it again since it's been so long since I last had NEW chapters (I will be working on fixing the tapas feed all day, it might take a while and pardon any changes that happen while you're reading it on there). I will keep the old PDFs up on itch.io for posterity, you'll get them as a bonus when you buy the new PDFs.

I say all of this basically because I want to talk about chapters 3 and 4 which I'm working on right now and I'm so excited for the ways the story has improved and I REALLY WANT YOU ALL TO READ MY COMIC!!! I think I'm doing something really fun, cute, and emotionally developed and I hope I can convince you to check out my comic because it's been meaning more and more to me over the years.

PDFs are available for purchase on itch.io and you can read it for FREE webcomic style on tapas.io, thanks!

[rcreveal]

The Trouble with a Keen Manager

A canon typical story set in the early 1990s just barely pre-Anti Christ S1 where Crowley loses most of his powers and needs help from new friends and old while he fights to regain his old power and autonomy...and just not to get discorporated! Banter, humor, drama, pining. Ch 1 of 22: This one is finished, so I won't leave you hanging, too long. Psst-Crowley in a kilt most of the story...

Chapter 1:

Aziraphale puttered about his bookshop dusting the stacks and looking over at the door from time to time. Drifting past his desk, he glanced at a book seller’s catalog laying open with colored ribbons marking his new purchases. Humming to himself happily, the angel’s fingers hovered over one of his most anticipated new selections.  Then he shook his head and set himself off to reorganize the Jane Austen.  Every time a new movie or television adaptation came out he had to guard his first editions from the depredations of the book buyers!

Oh he just couldn't wait!

Recently…

Crowley toyed with a self-addressed order postcard of the kind that might be “blown in” to a magazine or journal.  The kind of postcard that was an advert for double glazing, questionable self-care products, guaranteed cubic zirconia jewelry, and books not yet available in local shops.   They’d fall like raining frogs out of the magazine of the poor soul that just wanted to pilfer a little look at an article without buying the whole magazine AND they were each little temptations!  It’d been wicked fun suggesting ‘blow ins’ to the advertising blokes.  The little irritation to millions of people forced to wrestle with scooping up the pieces of paper or being inveigled to litter was a bonus for his reports.  Sometimes he’d sit across from a magazine stand just to watch it.  

Crowley had been sitting on a bench across from a magazine stand smiling to himself as the blow ins fluttered down, seeing the familiar crease between the brows and shuffled stooping and swatting for the little cards.  They even got away from people purchasing a magazine.  Littering thus tarnishing an otherwise upright citizen.  The rather excitable university student with the baggy jumper over baggy non-descript pants hadn’t noticed the card falling out when she’d stuffed the magazine into her bag.  From over the road it looked like she was taking home a deadly dry scientific journal of some sort.  During a lull in shoppers, Crowley had poured himself up from the bench and sauntered over to see what adverts had added to the litter on the city street, grinning to himself as he riffled the debris with his pointy toed shoe.  It was another bad day for double glazing!   Leaning over to see what sort of advert could possibly be in that dry old magazine, his fingers closed over the little bit of cardstock he’d marked falling from the student’s bag.

Flipping the little card over, he’d let out a ‘huh’ as he read the advertisement over the top of his sunglasses to better see the colored picture, looking more like a middle aged man who’d eschewed his readers than a debonair demon.  Pocketing the card, he wondered if he might just find a copy there…where had they moved now?  Oh, right, Carlton House Terrace, he turned to cross St James Park.  He could do with a brandy and they still had a clubroom there, surely.

Well that was a disappointment.

The tea room choices weren’t exactly what he’d remembered from the Royal Society, but the zip and tingle of all the thinking going on in the building was headier than most vintages as he meandered through the public exhibits.

“Pardon me, but would you carry this book?” Crowley asked the young man at the Royal Society book shop, flipping the card in front of his nose.

The fellow peered at the little card in Crowley’s hand and a smile broke over his face.  “Oh, I am so excited to see this one, sir!  Can’t wait to get my hands on it!”

“So, you don’t have a copy here?” drawled Crowley.

“Nooo, sir, that’s an American publication.  I don't know when we’ll get a copy.  You could ask your local bookseller to order one for you, if you don't want to wait,” the young fellow added helpfully.

A slight grimace on his face, Crowley pocketed the card again, “Thanks anyway,” waving a couple of fingers at the building,  “Like what you’ve done with the place,” Crowley sauntered away affecting nonchalance.

But the demon was thinking, ‘Yeah, he might, but…nah, not worth the risk.’ Crowley had rarely asked for anything from him outside the bounds of the Arrangement, and the business with the holy water made him even less likely to expose himself like that again even on a much smaller scale. Definitely not right now.  There were other ways.

The advert marred the perfect black austerity of Crowley’s huge desk.  It was a temptation, so that should be alright, plausible deniability and the like.  Pity Crowley was currently the focus of the temptation.  Worse, he could feel the laconic eye of the Pit on him more often these days.  Someone seemed to be going through a keen phase, so he’d been toeing the line more than he liked lately.  Made more difficult by some of the recent administrative changes.

Running his thin fingers over the address side of the card, Crowley pushed the card away and strove not to look at it.  Failing that, grumbling in the back of his throat, Crowley flipped the card over and let his eyes rangehungrily over the advert.  Holding the card up to eye level he looked at a red and yellow swirl on a deep black background and ground his teeth.  

A fruitless day of calling booksellers found that no one was planning on getting a copy of the book he wanted anytime soon.  Most had asked if he had inquired at the Royal Society.  

As he worked through the Book Sellers listed in the Yellow Pages from A to Zed (skipping the first shop listed under A, of course) some of the older shop owners started to offer ‘helpful’ suggestions.

“If it’s an unusual book that you’re after, you should check out A. Z. Fell’s in Soho.”

“You know, that Mr Fell gets books from across the pond pretty frequently,” another offered. 

“Mr Fell has connections for discerning patrons like yourself.  I can give you his number, if you like.”

After a few more exchanges like this, Crowley’s frustration was rising, as was his speculation that ‘Mr. Fell’ might not have always been entirely above board with his book collection.  With rising spirits, Crowley imagined the ‘dangerous’ ideas hidden in books and pamphlets banned over the years now lying in wait in the dusty corners of the book-hoarder’s shop to spring upon some unsuspecting mind.

Finally accepting that no bookseller in London was getting the book any time soon, he dialed the angel’s phone number by memory.  But he still had to figure out a way to get the book without letting his traditional adversary know it was for him.

***

Aziraphale strolled into St James park with interest piqued, just stopping to pick up a bag of breadcrumbs before making his way to the lean figure of Crowley who stood over by the pond with hands deep in pockets staring at the ducks.  Walking up to the duck pond some way away from the demon, Aziraphale started feeding the ducks and by pure happenstance, I assure you! drifted down to stand next to Crowley.

Without looking at him, Aziraphale murmured, “It’s been a while!  How’ve you been keeping?” politely, but a little cooly.  The angel had not cared for finding his home city surrounded by the dread sigil odegra.  Aziraphale didn’t much care for motorways in the first place, (too fast) but he suspected that Crowley might have had something to do with the M25 turning into an evil prayer wheel.

Making a sour face, Crowley replied, “Nnggh, gotta new manager.  Keen.”

“Really?  Keen how?” Aziraphale asked blandly.

Crowley grunted, “Some actual new ideas!” he said, sarcastically, “Memos requesting line item audits of miracles performed and how each upheld the glorious Great Plan for Satan’s supremacy.”

“Oh, that’s a blow,” Aziraphale replied solicitously.  “Home Office did that to me once.”

“You? Why?” Crowley replied, surprised.

“Said I’d made too many ‘frivolous’ miracles.” Aziraphale explained.

“Yeah?  Why would they say that?” Crowley replied with a little sarcastic smile, reminded of all the little restaurants and cafes the angel enjoyed.  Remembered rescuing Aziraphale from the Bastille when his miracles had been cut off.

Aziraphale hmmphed a little, turning to cast breadcrumbs in front of the demon, and noted the unaccustomed shabby look of Crowley’s clothing and his shaggy, tousled hair, it couldn’t be said to be a style (which wasn’t actually true, Kurt Cobain fans would have considered Crowley’s hair the height of fashion, except that they didn’t do high fashion).  That was odd.  Crowley kept his wardrobe pristine and took more care with his coiffure than Aziraphale.  

“Did they, ah,” Aziraphale inquired delicately, “‘Tighten the purse strings’ on you?”

After blowing out an expressive snort, Crowley slouched further, turning this way and that, “I’ve had to maintain clothing!  Do you have any idea how difficult it is to maintain silk while performing assignments in a rainy environment!?”

Raising his eyebrows and rolling his eyes to the side, Aziraphale smiled a tiny smile and said, “Well yes, dear boy, I do have some little facility in that department,” which the demon knew very well.  They’d had endless little disagreements about why Aziraphale kept his clothing fresh and tidy the human way and Crowley constantly cheated with miracles.  So, something was definitely amiss, but what?  “Why don’t you come by later and I can give you some tips.”

“Dunno.  It’s like someone’s staring at my back all the time!” 

So they would have to be extra cautious, “I’ve just gotten a new wine in from the New World, supposed to be rather special?”

“Mmmm,” Crowley wasn’t going to risk Hell’s new attention for a Pinot Noir.

“And a Scottish single malt.”

“MMmmm, yeah, alright,” Crowley acceded.  Risking Hell’s attention for whiskey was another matter.  The angel only drank that particular type of ‘demon drink’ with him.

“Well I’ll be off then,” Aziraphale said airily, passing just in front of Crowley as he walked purposefully out of the park.

Turning back to the ducks after the angel’s abrupt departure, Crowley looked down, only then noticing that Aziraphale had tucked the half empty bag of breadcrumbs into his pocket.

Shaking his head with a warmer smile on his lips, Crowley took out the bag and enjoyed feeding the ducks.