#day 1: blue eyes/identity reveal

[lalunanymph]

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: mentions of food, mentions of murder, talks of death, predator/prey dynamic, sword to neck trope, reader gets restrained, mentions of injuries, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is referred to as 'cerena', princess cerena has pink hair and feminine features, reader is in cerena's body, isekai-ed reader

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 3: THE VILLAGE

Life at this little village offered you a gentle respite from the fears eating at your soul, putting the memory of Satoru's bloodthirsty desires momentarily out of your mind.

Whilst under Aeva’s care, you learned how to use an old fire stove, sweep the floors with a broom made of brambles, and prepare some of Northern Haleway’s most famous fare—pigeon mince pies. 

In return, she offered you the room in her attic, a quaint, cozy space that did not perturb you with its lack of size but instead, reminded you fondly of your own bedroom back in your real world. 

When you weren’t busy with chores and cooking, Aeva gave you free rein to roam about the village with the condition that you were to never reveal your true identity to the poor villagers. You took her worries in stride, always leaving her home with your hood and cloak on; Cerena’s signature pink hair plaited neatly and wrapped under the scratchy hood. 

The reason for your excursions to town were simple: you wanted to find out the truth about why you were here in the first place. 

You struck up conversations with various healers, visited the village shaman, and even spent an hour talking to the friendly barman on the merits of body swapping and waking up in a different life. 

But, your research barely yielded anything fruitful.

It only served to increase your worries, driving you to the brink of a mental breakdown at the fact that you may never go back to your real world again. 

That you may never see your mother or listen to her laugh as you both drank rice wine on a veranda; happy memories illuminated by the sun setting over the paddy fields. You may never roll your eyes at your best friend’s piss poor attempts at setting you up on blind dates, or enjoy your morning commute with a cup of turmeric latte.

Every single thought drew you deeper into a pit of despair.

But, you knew you had to be strong. 

This was a temporary setback and you have to believe that you will return home. You have to believe that life would not be so cruel as to leave you stranded here, in a place where you were despised and ridiculed. You had to keep the faith; had to hold onto the hope that you would make it home in one piece. 

There was no other option. 

-

Satoru slowed his horse to a trot once he arrived in the market square, the guards flanking his sides dispersing to find you at his terse nod. 

Those unyielding blue eyes swept across the square, noting the various sellers and stalls surrounding him. The smell of horse dung and rotten food scraps burned through his nose with the force of a thousand fires, and he made a face, wanting nothing more than to get this search party over, find you and take you back to the King. 

For a man used to the trenches of war, peasant life will always astound him with its stink and squalor. Children with dirt-packed faces and blackened hands chase after each other. A skinny, malnourished dog feebly lifts its head when his horse trots by and a heavily pregnant woman with scars running down her arms gives him a scrutinizing look while she hangs up her linens to dry. 

Satoru intended to keep this visit brief, and he is no more looking forward to the reality of finding you than he is at the thought of how you would react.

It was obvious that this was one of your usual tantrums in retaliation for not getting what you want; an act of rebellion made to paint him in a bad light.

His jaw ticks and his mood darkens at the thought of what he would do if he ever saw you again.

First things first, Satoru wouldn’t hesitate to threaten you by sword point to return back to the castle. Then, he will interrogate you on where you had been, who you spoke to, how you escaped in the first place so he can put anyone and everyone who aided you in this resistance to the sword.

Those flinty cerulean eyes shift across the market square, hoping to find a glimpse of the hooded and cloaked figure Miri had informed him about. But, all his gaze does is meet more exhausted faces; the villager’s blackened, fatigued air drawing his lips downward into a grimace. 

He was close to redirecting the search party into the forest where he believed you would be hiding, when he sees the figure of his hunt.

A waifish, hooded and cloaked woman made her way past the fruit stalls, stopping to purchase an apple.

Satoru doesn’t spare another second. He threw his horse into a gallop, reaching for his sword and drawing it out of the scabbard.

The hooded woman seemed to sense his murderous intent for her all the way across the square and lifted her head.

Satoru’s eyes widened when he noticed the familiar slope of your nose; the parting of your cherubic lips frozen in a silent scream. 

“Cerena!” 

The blasted woman takes off, running as fast as she could straight to the forest’s edge. Satoru doesn’t know what compelled him to disembark off his horse, hastily tying the reins around an apple tree and tearing after you with his longer, stronger legs.

Your terrified expression seared through his brain when you turn around to flash him a pleading look. Satoru gritted his teeth, his larger lung capacity and fitter body making it easier for him to sweep past the trees, darting under the brushes and jumping over fallen logs to chase after you.

There is nothing but the thought of escape in your mind. 

As you weaved through the trees, bounding across brooks and fell logs, your breath came out in icy pants, crystalizing right in front of your face. 

You wanted to turn around and plead and beg with him to spare you, the sight of the broadsword in his hand pumping your veins full of adrenaline and the need to escape. Like a hounded prey, the predator behind you was closing in, near enough that you could hear his jagged breaths.

“Cerena—stop running!” 

You pushed yourself harder, ignoring his words, forcing your legs to bring you towards a gnarly apple tree. Using muscles you haven’t utilized since you were four when you were wildly swinging from jungle bars, you expertly swung your body up the tree, clambering the thick trunk and using the spruces as your support—trying to get off the ground and hide in the foliage so he would give up and leave you alone.

But, luck was never on your side, especially when it came head-to-head with Satoru’s determination.

He circled the tree you were hiding in, those frantic blue eyes darting through the thick leaves, trying to get a glimpse of you.

“Cerena, stop this madness at once and come back home!” Satoru bellowed, cheeks splotched red with anger and frustration. “You mad woman! Get down and face your repercussions, dammit!” 

A slight movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you rush to unleash your dagger, cutting through the stem of the hornet’s nest just a few inches from you.

Sensing danger, they hummed, digging their stingers into your vulnerable hand, but you paid the bites of pain no mind—focused completely on evading Satoru.

The prince’s keen ears catch a rustle, like the sound of something being sawed and he looks up into the trees, jaw clenched and icy blue eyes wild.

“Cerena! What are you doing up there? Come down, dammit!” 

Without warning, a lump of something brown and scraggly falls right at his feet.

Satoru barely had time to react before he’s surrounded by a swarm of nasty wasps, stinger-triggered and ready to attack him. The sight of him swinging his broadsword to ward off the wasps would’ve been hilarious, if you didn’t use this as an opportunity to scamper down the apple tree and take off like your life depended on it. 

“—Cerena!” 

Your stomach sank to your feet as you quickly whipped your head back to catch him speeding up to you, the mottled flesh of his face from the wasp stings and those raging blue eyes shocking you through the core with pure, unadulterated fear. 

“Please!” 

You screamed, needing to run back to Aeva’s hut. She will protect you; she has to. 

Sliding into the clearing, you’re almost to the home run when you feel a hard tug around your neck. Your head jerks back and you go crashing to the ground, Satoru’s bigger body enveloping yours. 

“No—no!”

The shine of his sword nicks your neck, and you’re both breathing hard. 

Satoru’s fiery icy azure eyes bore right into you with such potent hatred, you throw your hands to your face, bracing for the blade to slice through your neck hotly. 

One second turned into two. His heavy breathing becomes a grunt, and he yanks you unceremoniously to your feet. 

His arm tightened around your trembling body, face a few inches from yours as he sneered. 

“You will pay for what you did to me.” Those reddened lesions from the wasps littering his neck and cheeks strike terror into your numbed heart. 

“If only you hadn’t ran away from me,” he clicked his tongue as if in disappointment, and to your mortification, brought out a coil of rope from his jacket. “Then, your punishment would not be so severe.” 

A hushed sob slips from between your gritted teeth as he lashed your hands together with the rope, tying it tightly enough so you wouldn’t think of running away from him again.

“Please,” you started to cry. “Please, do not hurt me. Do not harm me.”

He grunted, looping the tie into a double knot. “What in the devil are you blubbering about, woman? I have no intention of hurting you.”

Your tears trickled your cheeks like fragments of icy shards, slipping down your neck as you attempted to resist, pressing your bound palms to his broad chest and trying to push him away.

Satoru growled: “Cerena! Behave.” 

The flash of disgust and anger in his eyes instantly brought to mind how he had held the sword to your bare neck—how he had wanted to kill you. 

Terror seized your lungs, your scream shattering the calm quiet of the forest.

“Help me! Somebody help me! Please!” 

You sobbed loudly and with full abandonment, balking whenever he tried to reach out for you, batting your useless hands against his chest and neck to try and buy yourself some time for someone to help.

In the midst of the struggle with Satoru, you missed a wizened figure stepping out of the hut, her bow and arrow pointed right at the crowned prince.

Gojo, noticing the intruder in this scene, raised his eyes, sneering at the lowly woman who dared believe she can take him on with a flimsy weapon.

“You dare point that at me? The crowned prince of the region?” 

Aeva steadied her aim, the tip of the arrow quivering. The expression on her face was of fierce protectiveness, surging from seeing you being manhandled like a sack of potatoes by a man who was supposed to honor you as his fiancé.

For a brief moment, you felt a shining sense of hope—that you were going to be safe. 

But, he does not yield. Despite not saying a word, his frigid glare is all the loathing he needs to dissuade Aeva from releasing the arrow. Her rheumy eyes shifted from your tear-streaked face to his furious glare and to your dismay, she slowly lowered the weapon, letting it dangle by her side.

Your gasp rang with betrayal and alarm. “Aeva… please…”

Smug that he was let off without much of a fight, Gojo used his raw strength to lift you over his shoulder, your bound hands dangling across his back, your slippered feet kicking in mid-air.

“Please! Don’t let him harm me! Aeva! Aeva—” you choke off a broken sob, unable to bear her devastated expression through your tears. 

With every jarring step he took, you get further and further away from the safe house; from finding your answers and plotting your return back to your world.

Satoru didn't just tear your hopes of returning home from your hands, he also stomped them to the ground with the impending dread of his promise to Miri.

The promise to kill you should he see you again.

Crippling agony washed over you, enough to make you bitterly wail, your cries weaving through the trees as fearful images of your mangled body flashed through your mind, the end of your life brought about by this cruel prince's hand. 

“Enough with the dramatics,” Satoru muttered frostily as he trudged through the thick snow, reaching his behemoth of a stallion. With barely an iota of effort, he heaped you onto the saddle, giving your thigh a hard squeeze in warning not to do anything funny. 

Mounting behind you, he used his sturdier build to keep you caged in between his arms. Gripping the reins and snapping it once, his great white horse whinnies, moving to a trot as the forest and the safe house you spent these three blissful days in disappeared from your view. 

You never thought your fate would end up like this: bound atop a horse like fresh game being brought back after a hunt, while a sadistic man who wants nothing more than your demise sat behind you, stoic and silent despite your hushed cries.

Anguish welled deep in your soul, manifesting as endless tears streaming down your face which you tried desperately to hide from him. 

His voice broke through your frantic thoughts as a low, baritone warning. 

“I told you I will force you take accountability for your actions,” Satoru muttered darkly, slowing his horse to a cant.

Without any warning, he grasped your chin and tugged hard, eliciting a gasp of fear from you, forcing your teary eyes to meet his enraged ones. 

“And your punishment has only just begun, Princess.”

mtt fun fact: minced pigeon pies were brought to northern haleway by merchants from the south who introduced this alternative meat source during one of the country's harshest famines

dawn says: what kind of 'punishment' do you think satoru meant? 👀

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

[theaawalker]

I Promise [Finnick Odair x Reader]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Song Inspo: About You Now by Miranda Cosgrove Word Count: 829 Series: 1 | 2 | ? Summary: a day of fishing brings reminiscence for you and Finnick. District 4 never felt like home, but you've always had each other. Finnick has his soul mark, as do you, but that doesn't change anything. You know he'll find someone better, but nothing is promised in District 4. Warnings: none Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

You loved fishing with Finnick. He was so good at it and you were very impressed. You also didn’t mind diving into the water as deep as you could to catch his eye.

It was like any other day, Finnick would cast out the nets and spear what he could and you would dive in to retrieve the nets. You had been doing this since you were kids and this was the first time Finnick wasn’t wearing a shirt. So let’s just say you were a little more distracted than usual.

As he pulled back his trident you watched his back muscles and noticed something. On his shoulder was a seashell tattoo. But this wasn’t any ordinary tattoo. It was a soul mark.

You looked down at your wrist and pulled your shell bracelets off to reveal a seashell soul mark identical to Finnick’s. He was your soul mate.

“What’s wrong?” He called to you. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” You said shaking your head. “I didn’t know you had a soul mark”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Do you have one?” You shook your head and he shrugged. “It’s too bad, I haven’t found her yet”

“Yeah, what a shame.” You sighed and turned to the setting sun. “Listen, we have to finish up.” You said, running and diving into the water.

You loved Finnick, but he deserved better. He was amazing and you were, well, you. He didn’t know you were his soul mate and it’s very possible for a soul mark to disappear when circumstances change. There had to be someone better to be his soul mate and that is what you would hold out for.

As you swam to the surface you were met by Finnick’s sea blue eyes staring back at you. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close.

“My little fish was underwater for a very long time. Are you ok?” He asked concerned.

“Yeah” You nodded pushing yourself away from him. “I have to go” You said swimming to shore.

After the next few months despite your best efforts you fell more and more in love with Finnick everyday. You tried to stay away from him but it was almost impossible. Oddly enough you thought that maybe Finnick was in love with you too.

You were fishing one day again when Finnick spoke up. “You know I don’t think this soul mate stuff is true. I mean how can a mark on my body that matches someone else mean I love them. What if I already love someone else”

You couldn’t tell if you were upset or relieved so you nodded. “Well I don’t have to worry about it”

“I just wish I wasn’t carrying this on my back” He paused. “Get it?”

“Ha, ha” You said splashing him with water.

“Oh, you want to do that do you?” He said charging at you and knocking you backwards and into the water with him on top of you and your back against the sandy bottom.

When you both came to the surface you laughed but Finnick’s face turned serious.

“Are you nervous for the reaping next week?” He asked, breaking the happy moment.

“I don’t know.” You said shrugging. “I always wonder what are the odds.”

He nodded and looked off into the distance. “Yeah... I suppose.”

“Come on.” You said pulling him up. “It’s almost dark”

The next week went by and Finnick seemed distant. He was really worried about the reaping. You weren’t sure if he was right to be, but today would be the day to find out.

You dressed in your best blue dress and braided your hair back in a single fishtail braid. Sadly, you couldn’t meet up with Finnick before, but you would see him after. You hoped.

After you were all lined up in the square that’s when your nerves finally hit. You fidgeted with your dress and tried to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of Finnick. To your despair he was nowhere to be found.

As they drew the girl’s name you breathed a sign of relief when it wasn’t you. When they got to the boys you crossed your fingers it wasn’t Finnick.

“For the boys!" The woman called out. “Finnick Odair!”

“No...” You whispered. You watched in horror as Finnick walked up to the stage. “No!” You said running up after him the guards in quick pursuit. You grabbed his hand and gave him a hug. That was all you had time for before the guards were tearing you apart.

Finnick still had your arm and through all the grabbing and pulling your sleeve pulled up revealing your soul mark. Finnick saw it immediately. “I knew it was you. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked desperately.

“I’m sorry.” You said as you were finally pulled away.

“I will come back to you!” He yelled as he was dragged into the justice building. “I promise!”

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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[ieatstarsforaliving]

The Origin (1)

Summary: How you and Hazel and the fight club started. Also Hazel's Spider-Woman. But you don't know that.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mentions of bruises and cuts, Idk what else

Word Count: 1508

Note: It's literally my first post. It may suck. I don't care. I don't get paid for this. I hope you do enjoy though, cause there's not enough Spider-Woman Hazel Callahan fics out here. Love yall - Bia <3

“You got paired up with (Y/N) for the ‘women murdered in history’ project?” 

Hazel nodded at Josie’s question. She had just left Mr. G’s class with PJ and Josie where he had introduced a new project to create a diorama based on a famous woman who was murdered. The partners were chosen by random, and to Hazel’s horror, she was paired up with you. 

Who just happened to be Hazel’s crush for 4. fucking. years.

Hazel had many moments of crises in her 18 years of life, which included getting bitten by a radioactive spider during sophomore year at a school field trip to the science fair, getting caught by Josie and PJ’s spider-trap (Where PJ wanted to catch Spider-Woman for her youtube channel with a net, and she actually managed to?) and Hazel had to reveal her secret identity, and her mother’s recent divorce with her minor-fucking, emotionally unavailable father. 

But none of them made Hazel as frantic as being paired with you for a school project. 

“Thats fucking amazing,” PJ said in jealousy. “How come that never happens with me and Brittany? I got paired up with that one emo kid who probably wants to blow up the school.” 

Hazel groaned, leaning her head against her locker. She was already tired from last night’s fight with a local bank robbery, which led to her face scratched and bandaged up today. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to impress you. 

“Okay, well, you don’t look very happy considering you’re like, obsessed with her,” Josie commented. She was well used to Hazel’s constant remarks about how pretty you looked during class or how you made eye contact with her for 2 seconds. 

“I’m fucked. I just get so nervous around her,” Hazel replied, anxiety seeping out from her voice. “I have never really had a conversation with her other than, ‘hello’. If I can’t even talk to her properly, how am I going to do a whole project with her?” 

PJ rolled her eyes. “Hazel, why are you so worried? You literally swing down tall ass buildings and beat up tall ass criminals, and you can’t even talk to a girl that you like? Didn’t your spider powers give you like, enhanced everything?” 

“I’m pretty sure the whole point of Hazel’s secret identity is for you to not talk about it out in the open, PJ.” 

“I’m just saying, if I saved the neighborhood every night wearing a red and blue spandex lady gaga suit, I’d be getting so much puss right now.” 

The two continued to bicker as Hazel sighed. PJ was right. It was just a project. It wasn’t a big deal, it was only for a week, and she was certain you were straight anyways. All she had to do was just man up and talk to—

“Hazel?” 

Hazel jumped, turning around from her locker to see you standing with an alluring smile on your face. You wanted to talk to your project partner before the start of next class, who seemed to be very stunned at the sight of you. She looked like a puppy, with her widened blue eyes and her tousled brown hair. 

Hazel blinked rapidly and clutched her notebook, barely managing to reply with a small, “Hi.” 

“I don’t know if you remember me. I’m (Y/N),” You introduced yourself, starting to offer your hand but retracting immediately because you realized that you’re a high schooler and that it’s probably lame to shake hands in this day and age. “I’m partnered up with you for Mr. G’s class—” 

“-Yeah, I know who you are. (Y/N),” Hazel said, almost too quickly, causing her friends to hold in their laughter. “Mr. G’s project. Yeah– I can work on it. All of it, if you want.” 

“No, of course not, we can work on it together,” You laughed, before recognizing all the injuries on Hazel’s face. “By the way, you’re pretty bruised up. Are you okay?” 

Hazel instantly touched her bandages, feeling a bit embarrassed at her state. 

“’m fine. I just fell.” 

You frowned, staring intensely at Hazel’s face. “I don’t think you can get these cuts from falling.” 

“Well, some of them are from falling and some of them aren’t...” Hazel trailed off as you came closer, your face filled with genuine worry. You knew Hazel wasn't exactly popular, but you didn’t know she was bullied. Hazel slowly backed away, her heart beating out of her chest as her back made contact with her locker. 

Hazel's Face started to burn up, turning to Josie for help. Josie stuttered, “This is nothing, she just– she’s part of this— this club, and—”

“A club? What kind of club fucks up her face like this?” You interrupted, your hands reaching out and brushing Hazel’s bangs out of the way, carefully examining the bandages. “Is it like a fight club?” 

“Yes!” 

“No–” 

“-More like a women’s self defense club?”

You looked at the three girls who’ve provided different answers all at the same time.

PJ spoke up first. 

“Yes, we absolutely do have this club where girls fucking beat each other up and shit for… feminism. So that we can teach girls how to protect themselves from the evil male football players.” 

“You know how to fight?” You asked, staring at PJ who barely had any muscles.

“Yes. Because, We… went… to… juvie over the summer.” 

You blinked.

“...There’s also a serious lack of female solidarity in this school,” Hazel stiffly added. 

“Right. Okay, that’s fine, I guess,” You accepted. “Could I join?” 

“Yes. Absolutely!” PJ exclaimed, her face lighting up immediately. “You could bring your friends too. You know. Specifically your cheerleader friends. Specifically Brittany and Isabel.” 

Before you could question why specifically Brittany and Isabel, the bell rang to inform the students for the start of next class. 

“Okay, here—” You took the notebook Hazel was holding and quickly scribbled your number on one of the pages. “Message me so we can talk about the project. And the club. Is that okay?” 

You handed the notebook back as Hazel nodded, in denial that you just gave her your fucking phone number. You waved before running off to your next class, feeling happy that you had made a new friend. (haha friend…)

Meanwhile, Josie was losing her mind. 

“PJ, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“This is absolutely perfect!” 

“No, it’s not, PJ— we don’t have a feminist women’s self-defense fight club. You also don’t care about feminism. Your favorite movie is Entourage.” 

“Okay, first of all, shut up, and second, we can just make the club now, obviously. Come on– I just created the perfect opportunity for all of us to talk to Brittany, Isabel, and (Y/N)!” 

“Hazel, please tell PJ that she’s insane,” Josie turned to Hazel. 

Hazel grinned and said; 

“She gave me her number.” 

Josie groaned. “Congratulations! But we have a bigger problem now. We don’t know how to defend ourselves!” 

“Self-defense is common sense. You try to punch me in the face. I stop it from happening. Whatever, I don’t care, it’s easy,” PJ shrugged, holding a MMA fighter stance and started throwing air punches. 

“Yeah, maybe for Hazel, who literally has the… spider tingles? Hazel tingles?”

“Please do not start calling it Hazel tingles.” 

“And let’s not forget, you literally have superhuman strength,” Josie cautioned. “If we do this— very big if, we just run the biggest risk of exposing you and your spider identity. One wrong punch and you’ll send a girl to the hospital.”  

PJ turned to Hazel and grabbed her by the shoulders. 

“Hazel, listen to me. We teach a bunch of girls how to defend themselves against the evil high school fuckboys. They are grateful to us. Adrenaline is flowing— next thing you know, Isabel, Brittany, and (Y/N) are kissing us on the mouths!” 

Hazel paused. “I don’t know. Like Josie said, it’s a huge risk. The last thing I’d want to do is put (Y/N) in danger.”

A sardonic smile played on PJ’s lips. She tapped on Hazel’s notebook.

“Hazel, she gave you her number.”

Hazel stood, her mind racing once again. PJ’s idea of starting a self-defense club was dangerous, she knew that. She would be gaining attention all while showing off her fighting skills, which is what she had been hiding for years. Josie’s warning echoed in her mind. But then she remembered the way you had looked at her, with darling concern in your eyes when you asked about her injuries. She hadn’t had anyone worry for her like that in a while. 

Hazel took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Josie cried.

“She said okay! It's an okay! We’re doing this!” PJ screamed, grabbing Hazel’s hand and pulling her towards the school’s office to create the club. “We’re going to lose our virginities this year! This is the year!”

“Okay, but who’s going to be crazy enough to even advise this club?” Josie yelled after them, but the two were long gone.

Next Chapter: The Fucking Fight Club

[gallavichthings]

It's time!

How would you all like 21 22 fics on the 21st 22nd of December?

The Gallavich Masquerade Ball 2023 is now open! Grab a glass of champagne or anything else you'd prefer, some hors d'oeuvres, and choose your (first) dance partner for the night!

You can check all the fics in our AO3 collection or on this post, after the cut. A list of all authors with links to their profiles is also included. This post is pinned so you can check it whenever you want.

And here's the link for the form where you can put your guesses. It's only one form for all the fics, so please wait to submit your guesses only after you've read them all.

Here's the updated point system:

Points for readers: Correct guess on first choice: 5 points. Correct guess on second choice: 2 points. Incorrect guess: lose 1 point. (Please note that you only lose 1 point per story, even if you guess incorrectly on both choices.)

Points for writers: If someone correctly guesses your fic (regardless of in the first or second choice): 1 point. If someone wrongfully guesses your fic: 3 points.

Leaving kudos and comments is allowed and appreciated! Writers are also allowed to answer, but it's up to them whether to already do it or wait until everyone's identity is revealed so as not to give anything away accidentally. Oh, and if you want to post something about the fics here on Tumblr but can't tag them, I can serve as buffer for now lol.

Oh, and the surprise? The winners will get some great fanart, courtesy of the talented @doshiart! Isn't that awesome?! 🥂

Cheers!

Keep reading to get a list of all the fics with their summaries and word count, as well as a list of all the authors, with links to their AO3 profiles.

FICS:

AITA?  (2,072)

AITA? My new clients (29M and 31M) threatened me and I want to fire them. I know that’s not official therapist speak. TLDR; I want to encourage them to have healthier boundaries and find a new therapist, but until then, what do I do?

Attitude adjustment (4,483)

Post-canon Ian and Mickey figure out some relationship issues. That includes insults, (play-)fighting, more insults, and orgasms. Or: Mickey is having an attitude. Thank god Ian knows exactly what to do.

Black Charcoal meets Fiery Red (1,838)

Ian poses in a life drawing class. A straight forward job, if not for the guy with the blue eyes who can't stop staring at him.

Carnival (3,136)

Ian and Mickey spend the evening at a carnival... "Ian locked the car’s door, and put his arms around Mickey’s shoulders, as they walked towards the carnival. He had brought the leaflet home a few days ago, wiggling the colorful sketch of a carousel and the outdated font under Mickey’s nose with some hopeful glee. Mickey had protested for habit sake, but had caved in pretty easily..."

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3,000 years ago, they had to join forces to defeat an evil sorcerer. Now, the sorcerer was back, and more powerful than ever. Could they defeat him for good?

i'll find a new place to be from (5,947)

They stand in silence for a couple beats, unspoken words lingering above their heads. The cig in his hand has long burned out and Ian resists the temptation to light up another, and another. He feels his mouth open, and close, then open again–but nothing comes out. Time’s up. "See you inside, Red," Mickey finally says before pushing the door open, and Ian remembers how to breathe.

Infused Attraction (3,434)

Mickey has to receive Iron infusions. Ian is a student nurse who is assisting the other nurses with the infusion. Mickey is interested in the redhead. Ian is seemingly interested in him too. Let's see how it goes!

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"Ian closed his eyes and ran a hand through his damp hair. He sighed and straightened his shoulders. Took a deep breath, as if to steal himself for some monumental task, and walked off down the sidewalk. The rain made quick work of drenching him. Ian didn’t seem to notice. In the dirt beneath the tree, drawn in crude blocky letters made with the toe of his boot: I + M." OR A story mostly told through Debbie's eyes during world war two, as she worries for all her brothers, but particularly the one sent home much before the rest.

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Hiring Mickey Milkovich - Freelance Photographer to shoot the photos for his food blog was the best move Ian’s ever made. Mickey’s a fantastic shot, plus he’s committed to the success of Ian’s blog. (He’s fucking hot, too. But that’s just an added bonus.) And the best thing about him, is that in all the ways he’s professional behind the camera, he’s refreshingly unprofessional to Ian’s face. Which means when he comes around, Ian always knows he’s in for a good laugh, intriguing conversation, and an ego boost - Mickey never shy about how much he loves Ian’s food when they dig in after the shoot. Ian’s made chocolate lava cake today. But when extra time leads to their at-home appointment going way off script - Mickey wanting to update Ian’s headshots, but with a twist - who will the spicier photos leave wanting more, the “housewife army” from his blog’s comment section, or Ian and Mickey?

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ole red (5,596)

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lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: can you stop stealing my loot lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: this team only needs 1 sharpshooter anyway 😐 mm1234567890 [18:23]: shut up u f** lieutenantcolonel [18:23]: WHAT

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Mickey shows up to the Gallagher House in the middle of the night with a surprise for Ian.

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Span the Distance, Bridge the Border (4,988)

Ian and Mickey are happy, living on the West Side and adjusting to life as husbands in their new apartment. Things are going well, really well, until one day Mickey’s brothers show up. And God only knows what they could possibly want.

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AUTHORS:

Blodeuwedd

Calli_Writes

Captain_Jowl

energie_vie

Gallabitch73

gallawitch

Gembu

GrandSelfMythology

IanGalagher

JuliaKay

lingy910y

MissSnowwhitepink

mmmichyyy

My_Brain_Melted

NotHereNJ

Rayrayor

sam_writes_fics

Suzy_Queue

sweet_perversion

Sweetbee78

whatthebodygraspsnot

whatyouandihave

[simply-whump]

Mysterious Lotus Casebook (莲花楼) - Whump List

Whumpee : Li Lian Hua played by Cheng Yi, Fang Duo Bing played by Joseph Zeng and Di Fei Sheng played by Xiao Shun Yao

Synopsis : Ten years ago, Li Xiang Yi, the master of the Sigu Sect, dominated with his superior swordsmanship and was a symbol of light in the martial arts world. However, he suddenly disappeared along with Di Fei Sheng, the leader of the Jinyuan Alliance, after they arranged to battle in the East Sea. Ten years later, Li Lian Hua is a countryside doctor who travels dragging around a lotus tower. He accidentally becomes "famous" and gets pulled into the pugilistic world that he no longer wants to have any connections with. (MDL)

Genres : Mystery, Historical, Action

Warning! Possible spoilers below!

Li Lian Hua

Ep 1 : Fighting, cuts on his face and chest, veins appear on his arm, stabbed, spitting blood, eyes red, falls into the water — Slammed into a table

Ep 2 : Paralysed briefly — Choked

Ep 3 : Unwell, blue veins, treating himself — (Flashback) Stranded on a beach unconscious, wakes up, blaming himself for the death of many — Walking weakly, collapses, treated, bleeding from the mouth, told he lost almost all his power and is poisoned with no cure in sight, told he only has 10 years to live — (Present) Sword at his neck  — Locked up

Ep 4 : Hands tied — Chained, almost tortured, saved

Ep 5 : Hit by rocks, blood at his mouth, found, concern for him, passes out — Unconscious in bed, wakes up from a nightmare

Ep 6-7 : None

Ep 8 : Hit, holding his chest, spitting blood — Sword at his neck

Ep 9 : (Flashback) Crying — (Present) Grabbing his chest, concern for him — Fails to get up

Ep 10 : (Flashback) Has an allergy to peanuts, red spots on his neck — (Present) Pinned against a column, grabbed by the neck, grabbed a second time 

Ep 11 : Pushed, rolls down, hits a rock, falls into water, bruise on his neck

Ep 12 : Arm in a sling — Crying

Ep 13 : Paralysed — Kinda forced to drink some medicine, feeling uncomfortable, inner power given to him forcefully, blue veins on his neck and hands, in pain, spitting blood — Thrown into a pit full of snakes, bitten multiple times, groaning in pain — Spitting blood

Ep 14-17 : None

Ep 18 : Healing someone, using some power, sweating — Collapses, spitting blood —Coughing, concern for him, passes out — Unconscious in bed, concern for him — Walking unsteadily, vision blurry — Told he only has 4 months left to live — Crying — Has trouble getting up, given inner energy

Ep 19-24 : None

Ep 25 : Falls through a trap — Choked, almost stabbed, saved

EP 26 : Holding his chest, kidnaped — Thrown to the ground, surrounded by monsters — Found on the ground seemingly unconscious, concern for him, is fine, helped up

Ep 27 : Identity revealed to Fang Duobing, collapses, spitting blood, passes out — Wakes up, coughing — Walking unsteadily — Waking up in bed, coughing, told he was unconscious for 3 days — Coughing

Ep 28 : Hit, holding his chest

Ep 29 : None

Ep 30 : Arrested — Poison acting up, unwell, cold, curled up on himself, shivering, concern for him, wrapped in blankets — Wakes up in bed, vision blurry — Loses balance briefly — Blue veins on his neck, fighting, spitting blood, concern for him, in an explosion, helped up, attacked, thrown around, spitting blood, weak on the ground, vision blurry, protected — Unconscious, carried — Unconscious in bed, wakes up, concern for him, can’t get up, shaking, blue veins on his hands, coughing, told to lie down, cold, coughing up blood, passes out — Unconscious in bed, treated — Carried unconscious

Ep 31 : Wakes up — Crying — Coughing, refuses to be saved at the cost of someone else’s life

Ep 32 : Crying

Ep 33 : Crying, spitting blood, collapses to one knee, continues to fight even though the poison is acting up

Ep 34 : Crying — Red and blue veins on his wrist, concern for him

Ep 35 : None

Ep 36 : Captured, chained in prison, wrongful accused, frees himself

Ep 37 : Drops a cup, rubbing his eyes — Stabbed by someone he trusted, spitting blood, passes out — Missing — Prisoner, chained, unconscious — Wakes up, vision blurry, weak, coughing blood, blind

Ep 38 : Still chained, coughing — Choked, coughing — Regains sight, manages to free himself 

Ep 39 : Intense final battle, poison acting up — Learns a shocking truth, teary eyed

Ep 40 : Uses his internal power to save someone, coughing, sweating — Walking unsteadily, collapses to one knee, spitting blood, vision blurry, concern for him, passes out — Wakes up in bed, pulse taken — Spitting blood — Leaves (Dies? Lives? You decide)

Fang Duo Bing

Ep 1 : Drugged, dizzy, passes out 

Ep 2 : None

Ep 3 : Locked up

Ep 4 : Hands tied

Ep 5 : Drugged, passes out

Ep 6-7 : None

Ep 8 : Hit, spitting blood, passes out — Woken up

Ep 9-12 : None

Ep 13 : Hit, spitting blood, collapses to one knee, in pain — Suddenly passes out, unconscious in bed, treated

Ep 14 : Unwell, treated — “Poison” acting up again, in pain

Ep 15 : None

Ep 16 : Cured — Tied up (Comedic)

Ep 17-25 : None

Ep 26 : Has a headache, collapses — Fighting, arm cut, treated, bandaged

Ep 27 : Bombarded, fighting many enemies at once, shoulder cut, saved by Li Lianhua — Feeling betrayed, upset, crying

Ep 28-29 : None

Ep 30 : Drugged — Wakes up tied up with ropes, taken hostage, finally learns that Lianhua is gravely poisoned, grabbed by the neck, freed — Fighting a lot of people at once, injured, holding his side

Ep 31 : Coughing, bleeding from his previous injury, hiding it

Ep 32-34 : None

Ep 35 : Hit, falling through a deep hole, trapped

Ep 36 : Still trapped, fighting, hit, spitting blood

Ep 37-39 : None

Ep 40 : Crying, worried for Li Lianhua

Di Fei Sheng

Ep 1 : Fighting, stabbed in the shoulder, stabbed in the chest, falls into the water 

Ep 2-7 : None

Ep 8 : Poisoned 

Ep 7-12 : None

Ep 13 : Acupuncture performed on him

Ep 14-19 : None

Ep 20 : Stabbed in the stomach, poisoned — Unwell, bleeding, walking unsteadily, passes out, found in the water unconscious — Lost his memories, passes out — Unconscious in bed

Ep 21-24 : None

Ep 25 : Has a headache, poison spreading, treated

Ep 26 : Headache, groaning in pain, collapses

Ep 27 : Headache, poison acting up, stumbling, supported, sweating, cutting the palm of his hand with his sword, cured, passes out — Wakes up in bed, regained his memories but pretends he has not

Ep 28-33 : None

Ep 34 : Poisoned, attacked, bleeding from the mouth, stabbed, both wrists and ankles slashed (tendons broken), bleeding, collapses, bleeding from the mouth — Weak

Ep 35-37 : None

Ep 38 : Prisoner, chained in water, injured, wound touched, wincing, stabbed, spits blood (in the villain face, which was kinda nice), slapped — Freed, carried — Meditating to heal himself, bleeding from the mouth, helped — Trapped

Ep 39-40 : None

>> More Whump List

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 4

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 4/?

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: suggestive, 18+, violence, and swearing

*masterlist*

While the Palace staff were working hard doing last-minute preparations for the High Lords and their courtiers, you were running around the castle expending your energy. Your nerves were through the roof, this was the first time you’d meet most of the High Lords as Thesan’s second and you wanted everything to go perfectly. You thought long and hard how you wanted to be perceived and you decided to go with who you were. Someone who was friendly and kind but once you were crossed or tested, they’d find out about that fire within you.

             By the time you were bathed and dressed in one of the finest gowns you owned, it was already 1 hour till the High Lords were due to arrive. You had your handmaiden Liss help you sweep your hair into an updo with small pieces of hair framing your face. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, you smiled as Liss fussed over the smallest details of your outfit. Your dress was the color of the light blue tinge of the dawn sky. Tiny straps clung onto your shoulders as the material dipped into a deep V-neck that showed off your skin in a tasteful way. Taking the necklace from your jewelry armoire, you clasped the glowing sapphire necklace around your neck, it was so opulent you almost felt unworthy of wearing them.

As if she could sense your insecurity, Liss gave your outfit an approving nod before leaving your room. She was a no-nonsense faerie who was many centuries old, she didn’t talk much so you knew that her compliment was genuine. You did a little spin and admired the subtle golden glow under your skin. Like most of your wardrobe, the dress was backless so your wings had easy access and wouldn’t get in the way. Thesan had granted you permission to reveal your powers whenever you wanted and at first, you were going to reveal your wings as the other courts arrived. Then you decided that it was best to keep the element of surprise on your side, if anyone decided to pull any stupid shit in this meeting, you would be the one to neutralize the situation.

             You meet Thesan, Callon, and the other Peregryn warriors in the grand meeting room, your cousin and Callon kissed your cheek in greeting and your winged friends gave you a nod.

             “That dress would look prettier if your wings were out,” commented Wyla.

The other warriors who were clad in their golden armor nodded enthusiastically. You had told the warriors in this room about your plans to finally reveal your true nature and they were excited for you. They knew how exhausting and irritating it was for you to hide your wings, they also hated that you were forced to keep your identity a secret, but they understood why. The warriors were also looking forward to no longer needing to keep such a big secret from the public.

“I wholly agree Wyla, but we must be patient because all will be revealed in due time. Before they get here, does anyone else want to place any bets?” you said as you plucked a grapevine from one of the many food platters. “I already bet Callon 30 gold marks that some stupid male is going to try to fight within the first hour of the meeting. He thinks a fight will break out in 30 minutes.”

The Peregryn warriors chuckled, Thesan was rolling his eyes even though he thought it was funny you were placing bets on the temperaments of the courtiers.

The wind shifted through the arches and a wave of warmth brushed past you, moments later, High Lord Helion and his entourage made their entrance. Thesan introduces you all and Helion takes in your figure and eyes the glowing sapphires sitting on your chest. The High Lord of Day gave you a dazzling smile that almost made you blush before taking your hand and brushing a kiss on top.

“My lady,” he purred. “I can see why Thesan has kept you hidden from court, you are an enigma.”

You rolled your eyes as you bowed, “It’s a pleasure to meet you High Lord Helion, I hope to work with you and your Court in the future.” He was incredibly handsome, there was no doubt about that, but nothing could beat a certain Illyrian you were anxiously waiting to see.

Winter Court arrived soon after Helion and their High Lord Kallias was a lot less pleasant than you expected. He was formal and polite yet ice-cold. His wife Vivianne, on the other hand, was as lovely and refreshing as crisp winter air. You liked her right away and could tell you could be friends in the future. You led the two courts to the refreshment tables where attendants helped them with whatever they wanted. The Palace began conjuring chairs to match the number of attendees around the reflection pool. The conversation was flowing easily between the three courts when you noticed little wisps of smoke moving slowly and low on the ground.

Azriel.

You leave a pleasant smile on your face, but your eyes tracked its every move. The muscle on your jaw began to clench from irritation that Azriel had ignored your warnings not to send his shadows to your court. It seems you are the only one to notice them so once Vivianne had captured everyone in a riveting conversation, you moved towards the shadows. Using the skirt of your dress, you discreetly swished them around to disperse them. Surprised by their detection, they scattered until one wisp stayed behind and curiously wandered up towards your face. Your eyes darted to see if anyone was looking but everyone was too occupied to see it hovering around as if it was studying you.

“I have no idea if you can understand me but if you can, tell your shadowsinger to knock it off, or else I’m going to kick his ass when he gets here,” you said in a low voice. “Dawn Court is secure, and no one is going to ambush you when they get here.”

It disappeared into thin air and just as you walked back to the group of courtiers, you could feel Rhysand’s power before you heard the distant voice of an attendant welcoming the Night Court to Dawn. Your back straightened up as you heard multiple footsteps come closer to the meeting chamber, Thesan had begun to move to greet them, and you followed right behind his heels. Rhysand brought his court with him but the first faerie you noticed was Azriel whose piercing hazel eyes were already looking into yours. You inwardly groaned when you noticed the slight smirk he had on his absurdly handsome face, it looked like the bastard did get your message.

The two High Lords exchanged pleasantries and then Rhys began to introduce you to the other members of the Night Court. The first person you met was Cassian who looked you up and down, no doubt sizing you up to determine how much of a threat you were. The General raised his brow as he took in the five big jewels adorning your neck, his interest piqued as he noticed the power moving beneath them. Rhysand moved your attention to Feyre’s sister Nesta, who looked at you with those cold silver-blue eyes, you could sense there was something powerful brewing within her, something terrifying. Her icy glare took you in as if she could sense all the glamours and shields placed on your body. As if that deadly power within her could sense that poison you and Thesan had kept hidden. You matched her stare with pure steel until she had the good sense to look away first. Nesta was in your territory and estate, even she could respect your hierarchy and authority.

The gorgeous blonde you meet next turns out to be Rhysand’s third-in-command named Morrigan. Unlike Nesta, she greeted you with a warm smile and you reciprocated it deeming it as genuine. After meeting the new courtiers, Feyre stepped up to you almost sheepishly as if she was still embarrassed by the way you had caught her and Azriel trying to break into your library. You gave her a sharp once over with your gaze landing on the crown on top of her head. Rhysand’s scent lingered around her and then a smirk appeared on your lips.

“A few months ago, Rhysand was still looking at you with heart eyes, and now what? You’re wearing a crown and I hear you’re mates? You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, my friend,” you said with a sly grin on your face. Rhysand rolled his eyes as Feyre poked him on the side. You gestured to the wings behind him, “I like the new look, Rhysand. It suits you.”

Thesan forced himself not to laugh at your bluntness. He had been careful not to mention Rhysand’s newly revealed wings but then you came in and talked about them without batting an eye. He supposed he understood your excitement because just like Rhysand, you’ve been hiding a set of wings yourself. Thesan also understood why you were sometimes careless with your words and actions; you could take down enemies without striking or wielding a weapon. You were so gifted; you could do whatever you wanted.

To Thesan’s relief, Feyre and Rhysand laughed at your candor. The High Lord of Night grinned as he thanked you for your compliment. Feyre launched into a story of what had happened, and Rhysand took this opportunity to talk to his brother who was mentally yelling at him to respond.

Are those siphons?! asked Cassian. She’s High Fae…

They look like siphons, she wasn’t wearing those jewels when we last visited, reported Rhysand.

Cassian was now looking at you in awe, Do you see the power moving underneath? Mother above, what is she?

I don’t know, just be on your guard, replied Rhysand.

The two brothers looked over at Azriel who hadn’t said a single mental word, he had his eyes glued on you the entire time. While Feyre had you captivated by her story, Azriel and his shadows were getting antsy to formally greet you. He had received the message you gave his shadow loud and clear, he walked into the meeting chamber with his chest puffed out knowing he had succeeded in agitating you. The goal was to scope out the Palace as discreetly as he could but a part of him had wanted you to notice, hoping to tease and poke fun that he had managed to get through the wards. Azriel had no idea why he thought you would find it funny, the icy glare you shot at him the moment he walked in was sobering.

Once Feyre was done filling you in with what happened to her and Rhysand in the last couple of months, your attention finally shifted to Azriel, and his entire body tensed. He was genuinely scared of what you’d do because you promised to throttle him if you caught him spying again. With calculated moves, he bends to pick up your hand and brushes an attentive kiss on top. He had half expected you to backhand or punch him now that your hands were so close to his face, but you did no such thing. Not with all the other faeries in the room.

“It’s nice to see you again, Lady Y/n,” said Azriel, his voice deep and rich.

You wanted to berate him for using his shadows, to call Azriel and his Rhysand out and brag that their attempts at spying were once again thwarted by you. There were lots of sharp words you wished to say but nothing made its way past your lips. Azriel's scent wafted over you, and you could no longer think about anything but the enticing smell of night-chilled mist and cedarwood filling your senses. Your head tilted back as you glared at the shadowsinger who watched you warily. The best you could do was give a simple “Hmph” that came out from the back of your throat. You decided that you would give Azriel a piece of your mind whether physical or verbal but not yet, not in front of the High Lords.

Thesan and the others watched the strange interaction between you and the Illyrian. Cassian and Callon tensed at the stares passed between you and Azriel, the looks were heated but they weren’t exactly sure if it was from anger or something else. The only thing that stopped your glowering was the arrival of the Summer Court. Tarquin, Cressieda, and Varian strode in and there was immediate tension once they set their eyes on Rhysand and Feyre. Thesan moved to say hello so you and Callon followed, leaving the Night Court to converse with the others.

 Your near scowl turned into a smile as you approached your friends from Summer, the princess and prince bowed to your High Lord, and you bowed to theirs. Tarquin was just about to throw a glare toward Night Court, but you swooped in and took his arm in one hand and Cressieda’s in the other. With the blood rubies in mind, you cheerfully greeted them and tugged the pair toward the food. Thesan shot you a thankful look and you winked back as you thrust a glass of fae wine into Tarquin’s hand.

While waiting for Autumn and Spring to arrive, everyone dispersed into groups as they nibbled on food and sipped wine. With you and Thesan distracted by your guests, Rhysand threw a quick sound glamour around him and his inner circle. With the go-ahead from Rhys, Cassian punched Azriel in the shoulder and threw a glance at you in that lovely cerulean gown.

“You didn’t tell me you had a thing with Thesan’s hot second-in-command!” said Cassian enthusiastically.

Azriel carefully looked at Mor to see her reaction, but she wasn’t even near him. She was on the other side of the room animatedly catching up with Vivianne. “I don’t have a thing with Y/n. She’s just mad because she caught me using my shadows on the Palace.”

He knew you were a great warrior; they had told him your story and how you got the scar. Cassian also knew you had the unique ability to detect whenever Azriel was sneaking around so he knew you were somewhat powerful. What his brothers and Feyre failed to tell him was how elegant and beautiful you were, to Cassian you were everything he looked for in a female. If Nesta Archeron hadn’t captured his attention and clawed her way into his heart, Cassian thought you were someone he could love right away. Despite that, he was still a shameless flirt who had a knack for voicing his most immediate opinions.

“Gods,” muttered Cassian. “She’s stunning. Too bad she looked like she wanted to kill you Az, you missed your chance there.”

The shadowsinger's brows furrowed as Rhys and Feyre snickered. For some reason, it bothered him that Cassian was fawning over you. What irritated him even more was the sight of you and Tarquin’s arms still hooked together. You weren’t leaning into him, but the gesture was a little too friendly and Azriel did not like what it may have indicated. Azriel sighed and continued to survey the room, watching for anything amiss, but his gaze kept finding its way back to you. Cassian was right, you were stunning, no—ravishing in that dress. His eyes flickered to the blue sapphires around your neck, they were so similar to the cobalt siphons he wore on his body. Each stone glistened and thrummed with power, the biggest stone in the middle dipped lower on your chest which directed his gaze to your soft, exposed skin. Heat spread through him as he imagined what was underneath the material.

You felt someone’s heavy gaze so your head snaps toward their direction to find Azriel looking at you. He held your gaze for a split second before his throat bobbed and he looked away, starting a conversation with Cassian. You watched as his shadows swarmed behind him, they were on high alert and made the large male look even more menacing. Instead of the black suit he wore to his first visit to Dawn, today he was wearing what you assumed was Illyrian armor. The material was made of leather, and it fit snugly to his body, it allowed you to see every band of muscle that wrapped around his limbs and torso. His siphons were strapped onto his body, you counted seven jewels making you wonder how powerful these two Illyrians were to need seven siphons each to control their power.

Your gaze drifted back to Azriel’s handsome face; it was utterly unfair that someone could be that beautiful. His hair was raven black and slightly wavy; you wondered what it would feel like to run your hands through his hair. His skin was smooth apart from the stubble on his chiseled jaw. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you lifted your hand to trace the notched skin on your eyebrow and above the cheekbone. You glanced back to Azriel to find him looking at you once again, those cold eyes studying you. Feeling a blush slowly heat your cheeks, you angled the scarred side of your face away from Azriel. Trying your best to cool off, you hardened your features and forced yourself to concentrate on whatever Varian was saying.

High Lord Beron, his wife, and sons finally arrived, and you quickly learned why Thesan arrived with a headache whenever he came back from the Autumn Court. When Thesan introduced you, Beron and his sons barely acknowledged you aside from his wife and eldest son, Eris who gave you a small curt nod. The lack of respect from Beron had your sapphires flaring with power, Thesan shot you a warning look and you could have sworn you heard a chuckle coming from the Night Court. When everyone had settled into their chairs surrounding the reflection pool, you learned about the Book of Breathings, the book Night Court stole from Summer. They tell you about Hybern and you and Thesan share a look, it is what you both feared. The King of Hybern was gathering an army and Rhysand wanted to know who would fight with him.

 Suddenly, High Lord Tamlin winnowed himself into the meeting chamber. Tension immediately filled the air and your eyes darted toward Feyre who was doing a phenomenal job schooling her features as she looked at her former lover. Thesan stood up to meet him and conjured another chair into the circle. You had never met Tamlin before and so far, you weren’t getting the best impression of the male, you understood that he was angry at Feyre and Rhysand but to act this brash? You listened to their arguments with neutrality, but the more Spring and Night fought, the more you started to choose Feyre’s side. This was one of the reasons why love was so overrated, it had driven this respectable High Lord into insanity and led him to foolishly let Hybern infiltrate his court. It made him weak.

You looked at Feyre and Rhysand and then at Kallias and Vivianne. What they had seemed sweet, but it just didn't seem worth the extra risks. Do they realize how vulnerable they are? Your cynical thoughts were cut off when you heard Eris start talking, his voice laced with ignorance and venom. He had just insulted Mor and called her a slut, before you could interject, Azriel explodes from his chair at blinding speed. The sound of shattering wood and the crack of marble was the first thing you heard, it was then followed by Cassian swearing and the shouts of surprise. Azriel had somehow gotten through Eris’s shields and was now on top of him, his scarred hands wrapped around the throat of Autumn Court’s heir. You shot up from your seat and Callon immediately grabbed your arm and shoved you behind him, he placed his hand on his sword and used his body to block you and Thesan from the commotion.

Eris was struggling to breathe, his face red as his body thrashed and twisted trying to get away from the shadowsinger. You watched with wide eyes, Azriel was the embodiment of icy hot rage as his knee pressed against Eris’s diaphragm restricting the movement of his lungs. His shadows were swarming and surrounded him as if they were threatening to stop anyone and anything from interfering. Beron started throwing his power toward Azriel, but the fire either bounced toward the reflection pool or Azriel’s shadows tore through the flames until there was nothing but wisps of smoke.

“Enough,” commanded Rhysand but Azriel didn’t budge.

Azriel couldn’t think. He wanted to kill Eris for insulting Mor, his hands tightened around Eris’s throat. Then he heard Feyre, her voice gentle yet commanding, she was telling him to stop. Azriel bent down to Eris’s ear and told him how he would use the Truth-Teller to carve into him and give Eris the slowest and most excruciating death if he ever insulted Morrigan again. Eris Vanserra stopped his thrashing as he looked at the shadowsinger in horror. Azriel finally let go of the redhead’s throat, but his knee was still digging into his torso. Beron and his sons were looking extremely agitated and since Thesan was the host and voice of neutrality, you took it upon yourself to remind everyone whose court they were in.

“This is taking too long,” you muttered. Stepping from behind Callon, you swiftly made your way to the two males on the floor. “You!” you snapped, pointing at Azriel. “Get off him, right now!”

Azriel slowly stood up and blinked at you as if he was slowly regaining consciousness. Rhysand and Cassian looked at you with peculiar expressions on their faces as Feyre extended a hand and slowly led him away. Eris was still on the floor coughing up blood and saliva as you stood over him with disgust written all over your face.

“And you,” you said growling at the red-headed male. “Say anything treacherous like that in front of my guests and I swear to the Mother I will rip your balls off your body and make you eat it. The same goes for all of you. Behave yourselves.”

Your sapphires flickered as you sat back down on the cushioned chair with a huff. Thesan bristled as he waited for everyone’s reactions, thankfully the High Lords and their delegates just nodded. It was impossible for them not to have noticed your siphons flaring as the magic inside threatened to break through but the glowering shadowsinger held most of their attention, scared that his shadows had found a way to get through Eris’s protective shields. You looked at Azriel who was sitting down next to his High Lady, his jaw was set, and he kept glancing at Morrigan who refused to meet his eye. Sadness clouded his features and that was when you understood why Azriel reacted so harshly, he loved her. You looked at Mor once more and this small pang of jealousy rang through you, she was flawless. You wonder what their deal is, you don’t know how Mor could handle the weight of Azriel’s gaze when it was heavy with love and concern.

Thesan discreetly brushed a bead of sweat from his forehead, he was helping you put a damper on your power, and it was requiring more mental effort than usual. Your emotions were running rampant, the control you had on your magic slipping. You were too riled up, too much adrenaline pumping through you. He cast a worried glance toward Callon who was also observing you, Thesan arched an eyebrow and Callon rolled his shoulders back as if to say he was ready for what was to come. They have plans on how to best subdue you without hurting you, something they’ve only had to do twice when you were a young Fae.

Tamlin took it upon himself to make the meeting about his issues with Feyre and Rhysand. The other High Lords and their delegates watched wide-eyed as the three of them verbally tore each other apart. What crossed the line and made you bristle was Tamlin’s incredibly inappropriate remark about Feyre’s facial expressions during sex. Your temper flared and you were about to yell at Tamlin when you noticed there was no noise coming out of his opening and closing mouth. Your head snapped to Rhysand who just watched Tamlin with his sharp violet eyes. You had forgotten he was a daemati, Thesan told you many years ago, and is one of the biggest reasons why you were taught how to shield your mind. Your cousin was scared someone like him would use you for your abilities. Your eyes dart to the other High Lords hoping they weren’t going to do anything brash.

The meeting continued and when the topic came to Hybern and their faebane cache, Thesan brought in Nuan. She introduced herself and explained that her compound could protect everyone’s powers against faebane. Rhysand felt grateful that there was something to defend against faebane. He was the most powerful High Lord and faebane had rendered him practically useless. Everyone was impressed except for Beron who was making his usual sexist and racist comments. Nuan held strong and reassured everyone that her compound was effective. You had to bite your tongue when Beron started insulting your people’s Xian ancestry-- you and Thesan’s ancestry. Thesan gave Beron a warning and the High Lord of Autumn scowled at your cousin. Your sapphires flared once more, and you reached within yourself to clamp down on the grasp you had on your power.

Not now, you said to yourself. No one is in danger at the moment. Control yourself.  

That roar of your power was finally starting to calm down when Beron ruined the peace after Feyre asked him to leave. Beron started spouting bullshit about Rhysand being Amarantha’s whore while everyone was suffering under her rule. Tarquin shook his head and told Beron to stop but the red-headed High Lord wasn’t listening. He kept taunting until Feyre had enough, she looked like she wanted to kill him and then she tried. White-hot fire speared across the reflection pool, and you just had enough time to jump back before the flames rebounded from Beron’s shield.

Fuck.

It was chaos, more fire was thrown, and everyone was yelling. Bright piercing light and water were suddenly thrown into the fray. Rhysand was begging Feyre to stop but her eyes were wild, the need to defend her mate overtaking her. The sapphires around your neck began to stutter and dim as you allowed your power to flow out. The sensation of cool golden metal envelops your body as white, and gold feathered-tipped wings burst from your back. Your massive wings flexed outwards after being hidden for months. The weight of a fine golden sword hangs from your hip, but you don’t reach for it. Stepping in between Feyre and Beron, you waved your hand, sending a pulse of nauseating power toward the two fae. It worked slower due to the shields around them, but your power got through and it was enough for both to falter. Both heaved forward as nausea overtook their bodies, this allowed Rhysand to talk Feyre down. The flames, light, and water receded until everyone was staring at the High Lady of Night and the gorgeous, scarred Golden Warrior.

Jaws dropped as their eyes flickered between you and Feyre. The latter was forced to sit on a cushioned chair as the nausea made her skin pale and sweat formed on her brow. Beron looked worse; he was sprawled on the ground trying his best not to vomit in front of everyone. With a small flourish of your fingers, you dispelled the sickness from her and Beron. A breath of sweet relief was heard, both glad to no longer feel your poison. Rhysand took a protective step toward his mate as the High Lords looked at you in horror when they realized what you did. You were standing between the Night and Autumn courts with your arms raised and hands glowing with power.

“Is everyone going to behave from now on?” you asked, voice laced with irritation. “The King of Hybern is planning to take over Prythian. He had already launched attacks on Velaris and Adriata, we have no time to be acting like a bunch of assholes—I’m talking to you Autumn and Spring. Prythian is our home, and it would be a shame to see her fall into the hands of a heinous king.”

Thesan and Callon slowly moved toward you. “Y/n….” said Thesan carefully but you brushed him off.

“We need to be productive because Hybern is gathering its armies as we speak. The more time we waste, the more disadvantaged we’re going to be. If anyone else decides to have a tantrum, know that I can knock you on your ass in less than a second. So-- can we please agree to act like fucking adults for the rest of the day?

Azriel was the first to nod, his eyes big as he took in your powerful figure covered in elaborate golden armor. He could feel that raw, dark power coiling around you and he was sure everyone else had sensed it too. A sense of recognition flowed through him, and he looked at Rhysand who was already staring at Azriel. That overwhelming power they felt from Dawn Court… it was you. That dark power was all you. His eyes scanned those soft white and gold feathers and went over the golden armor that covered your body. Everything clicked into place for Azriel as he looked at you in awe, his shadows swarming around him. You were the mighty and elusive Golden Warrior.

Compared to your cousin, Thesan had this calm and healing aura to him, and they could tell that you were different. Despite the glowing beneath your skin, something about your presence was darker… sharper now that your power was no longer held back. If Thesan was the lovely orange and pink hue of the Dawn sky, you were the remaining blue darkness of night. Your eyes darted to every single faerie in the room waiting for someone to act out, but no one dared. They were in uncharted territory, even the oldest fae in the room had never seen a power like yours. The Peregryn warriors grinned as they watched everyone balk at you, pride running through them as they watched their winged Lady hold control over the room.

***

Once everyone got over their initial shock, the arguing started once more to discuss Feyre and her powers, but things never escalated enough to need interference. You sat on a chair accommodating for wings and watched everyone carefully. Wary glances were constantly thrown at you, but you didn’t mind them, if you were in their shoes, you’d be scared too. The gaze of the shadowsinger made you shift uncomfortably; you were aware his eyes hadn’t left your body since your wings came out. You wondered what he was thinking, was he disgusted or threatened? You allowed your eyes to meet his and he promptly looked away as if he hadn’t been staring. You couldn’t read him, the only sign of what he was thinking was the slight clench of his jaw. Was he mad that you lied to him that day in your library when you told him you had no idea about the power that he felt? Was he upset that you had hidden your wings? He might have been angry, but he had no right to be mad when he was the one who used his shadows to spy on your court when you told him to stop.

  You slightly shook your head as you looked away to survey the room. Since when did you care what Azriel thought of you?

[mayanaise111]

The life of a hero has never been, and will never be, easy. You’re isolated in your secret, bearing the feeling of walking this path alone, with the weight of the world resting solely on your shoulders. It’s a torment that you endure, sparing others from sharing in the same pain. The isolation is suffocating as you navigate a world that sees only a fraction of who you truly are.

“With great power comes great responsibility” the last words his grandfather whispered on his deathbed still haunted him. It’s been years since the old man passed away, leaving Yuji alone with a promise to keep. His grandfather was the only person who knew his secret. In that moment, Yuji vowed never to reveal his true identity to anyone else, to never endanger anyone again.

Yuji sat on the edge of the skyscraper, his legs dangling over the abyss as he gazed out at Tokyo, a city that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night. From this height, everything below was a sea of shimmering lights, each district glowing with its own pulse - neon pinks, electric blues, and vibrant greens creating a living mosaic of color. The streets far below were like rivers of light, cars moving in steady streams, their headlights leaving trails of white and red that intertwined like veins across the cityscape.

Itadori sighed as the overwhelming thoughts invaded his mind, a heavy weight pressing down on him even in this moment of quiet solitude. The wind tousled his pink hair and tugged at his clothes as he sat there, the vastness of the city making him feel both powerful and small at the same time. Skyscrapers rose around him like massive guardians of steel and glass, their windows reflecting the glow of the neon signs and billboards that lit up the night. The low hum of Tokyo’s heartbeat reached him even up here.

For a moment, Yuji allowed himself to soak in the view. The city felt like it was his to command, every rooftop and alleyway a path waiting to be explored. Up here, time seemed to slow, the chaotic energy of Tokyo below contrasting with the quiet stillness of his viewpoint. This was his city, a place of endless possibilities and hidden dangers, where every corner held a new challenge and every night brought something unexpected.

“Damn,” Itadori murmured, adjusting his mask to conceal his identity. His eyes swept over the cityscape one last time, the dazzling array of lights below shimmering like a constellation of countless stories. Tokyo stretched out before him, a sprawling tapestry of life and energy, and he felt intricately connected to every thread of it. The city's pulse echoed through him, each beat invigorating his spirit.

With a deep breath, he cast aside any lingering doubts, allowing the vibrant energy of the city to fill him completely. Then, with a fluid, graceful leap, Yuji launched himself into the darkness, becoming one with the dynamic web of Tokyo by night. His movements were smooth and effortless, blending seamlessly with the rhythm of the city below as he glided through the shadows.

Navigating his way towards his lonely dorm, he made sure to stay out of sight, his form barely a whisper against the backdrop of bustling streets. Tomorrow marked a new beginning for him - his first day of college so the villains and criminals had to wait, there are things important and more important, and right now the most important thing was to not become a walking joke around his new peers. As he moved silently through the night, the anticipation of the fresh start mingled with his usual nighttime patrols, and he felt a quiet determination settle within him. Tonight, he was not just a guardian of Tokyo but a young man on the brink of a new chapter, ready to embrace both the challenges and opportunities that awaited him.

The late hour certainly didn’t help his nerves, not that he expected to fall asleep easily with emotions bubbling restlessly within him. The uncertainty of tomorrow gnawed at him, intertwining with the thrill of the unknown. Would he fit in? Could he lead a normal life by day while keeping the city safe by night? These questions swirled in his mind, unanswered but not ignored.

He approached the dormitory building, his senses heightened as always, making sure to avoid any unwanted attention. He slowly opened the window, staying within the shadows, and slipped into his room with practiced ease. The familiar scent of the small, cramped space, filled with all the geeky things imaginable, welcomed him - a sanctuary from the world outside, yet also a reminder of the isolation his responsibilities often demanded.

As he stood in the darkness, the room’s silence was almost suffocating, amplifying the thoughts racing through his mind. Tomorrow he would walk among strangers, pretending to be just another student, but tonight he was still the vigilant protector of Tokyo, balancing on the edge of two worlds. With a deep breath, he closed the window behind him, sealing away the night and all its dangers, at least for a few hours. He knew that sleep, if it came at all, would be fleeting. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement beneath the anxiety - a small ember of hope that maybe, just maybe, this new beginning would lead him toward something more than just another mission, another night alone.

Yuji bolted out of his dorm, the morning sun already high in the sky as he raced across campus. His backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder, he weaved through clusters of students, his mind still foggy from the few hours of restless sleep he managed to catch. The urgency of the morning felt entirely different from the tense calm of the night before - now, it was a mad dash to avoid being late for his first physics lecture.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered as he pushed through the crowd that tried to not be late on the first day just like him. The campus was a maze of halls and even moving in earlier than necessary wasn’t much of a help at this moment.

He barely had time to grab breakfast but it could wait. It’s not like not eating breakfast would kill you. He dashed toward the lecture hall promising himself silently that he would get done with this class. The first he would do is get a coffee, the big one, of course, to survive the day, and maybe a donut.

The lecture hall was in sight now, and with a final burst of speed, he reached the door just as the clock struck the hour. Breathless, Yuji paused for a split second to compose himself, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow before pushing open the heavy door. The room was already filled with students, their murmurs and the rustling of notebooks creating a low hum that seemed to echo off the walls. The professor was just about to start, adjusting his glasses and glancing up from his notes as Yuji slipped inside. He quickly scanned the room for an open seat, spotting one near the back. He navigated the narrow aisles as discreetly as he could, though a few heads turned to watch him pass.

The professor, a stern-looking man with graying hair and a no-nonsense demeanor, was already starting his introduction. Yuji fumbled with his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen, his mind racing to catch up with the fast-paced lecture. The equations on the board were complex, far more advanced than anything he’d encountered before. The reality of college hit him like a ton of bricks - this wasn’t high school anymore.

As the professor delved into the intricacies of Newtonian mechanics, Itadori found himself struggling to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the previous night, the quiet streets of Tokyo, and the dual life he was now trying to balance. Every now and then, he glanced around the room, wondering how many of his classmates had their own secrets, their own challenges hidden beneath the surface. Were they as bad as his own little secret? He smirked to himself as he started doodling in his notebook. The thought seemed absurd - of course, no one else had to deal with being the infamous Spider-Man. Only he bore that burden.

The night before started to let him know of its presence as he found himself unable to keep his eyes open. The professor's voice began to blur into a monotonous drone, the equations on the board becoming obscure patterns. Yuji's head grew heavier with each passing moment, and despite his best efforts, his eyelids drooped shut.

He didn’t know how long he had been out, but suddenly, he was jolted awake by the sound of his name.

"Mr. Yuji," the professor's stern voice cut through the haze. "If you find my lecture that boring, perhaps you’d like to continue your nap outside."

“I am sorry,” Itadori said as a few snickers erupted from around the room. He blinked quickly, attempting to rid himself of the lingering drowsiness, but it was already too late. The professor's gaze was locked on him, leaving no chance to avoid the situation.

“Gather your things and leave,” the professor added, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If it happens again, I will fail you.”

“I understand, I am sorry,” Yuji quickly stuffed his notebook and pen back into his bag, avoiding eye contact with the other students. As he stood up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor seemed painfully loud in the suddenly quiet room.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and Yuji was left standing in the empty hallway, a wave of frustration washing over him. The consequences of his double life had caught up with him faster than he’d anticipated, and now, on the first day of class, he was already off to a promising start.

“So that’s what I get for keeping this city safe,” he thought to himself. “At least I can finally grab a coffee.”

Yuji sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the embarrassment of being kicked out of his first lecture. He wandered down the hallway, his steps echoing off the sterile, white walls. The bustling campus had taken on a different character now, filled with students who moved about with a casual ease he envied.

As he approached the campus coffee shop, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted him.He pushed through the door and was enveloped by the warmth and the mellow beats of a chill R&B song playing softly in the background. The place was cozy and surprisingly peaceful, he had to admit it.

He patiently took his place in the small line at the register, keeping his head down. It was a habit he’d developed to stay under the radar and avoid unnecessary attention. With only a few people scattered around, he didn't have to wait long before it was his turn to order.

As he approached the counter, he glanced up briefly and as his eyes met the barista he froze. The slightly taller, dark haired boy looked at him with a soft smile.

“What can I get you today?”

It took Yuji a moment longer than he would have liked to regain his composure. He blinked a few times, momentarily lost in the boy’s easy demeanor. The unexpected familiarity of the barista’s smile stirred something within him, something he never felt before.

“Uh, just a black coffee, please,” Yuji finally managed, his voice coming out a bit more hesitant than he intended.

“Coming right up,” the boy nodded and turned to prepare his drink.

As the barista handed him the coffee, their fingers brushed slightly, sending a brief jolt through Yuji. He met the boy’s gaze again, this time with a genuine, if slightly embarrassed, smile.

“Thanks,” Yuji said, accepting the coffee. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” the barista replied, his smile widening slightly. “Have a good one.”

[continous-mistakes]

First Fic: Thank You for the Topic of My Next Therapy Session

Crossposted on ao3 Leave a comment if ya like it or have ideas!

Inspiration: BioDad!BruceWayne

Chapter 1 of 4

Marinette has not been having the best few weeks lately. Akuma Attacks are becoming more frequent and violent, Luka has just been turned into an Akuma (again), and she is having to deal with a life-changing revelation (also again!?) that she should have been ignorant of for the next few years! But no. Her Ladybug luck just had to be with her as she opened her mother’s important documents drawer while in search of something significantly less important than what she did find! Her Maman only asked her to find her pearls, but what Marinette found were lies and significant emotional damage.  

That happened weeks ago. She refuses to acknowledge it, so Sabine has no idea that Marinette knows, and honestly? Marinette would like to keep it that way. For as long as possible. Which might not be very long at all with the way this day is shaping up.  

Luka Couffaine, an amazing boy who Marinette genuinely cares about and trusts as a friend and permanent member of Team Miraculous, has been akumatized into Truth (AGAIN! Can Hawkmoth be original? For once?) because she refuses to admit to being stressed and yes she was fine, Luka. There is no need to be worried. Now, he is gunning to expose her secrets. Starting with her classmates who are with them on the Liberty.  

“What is Marinette’s biggest secret?” Truth demands, enforced by the magic eye-thing strapped to his back. Hawkmoth’s really pushing it with these Akuma designs lately. Like, the black with the blue assented suit is nice and the glowing three eyes are a cool touch. What Marinette draws the line at is the frEAKING HUGE HUMAN EYE THAT IS HANGING JUST BEHIND HIS HEAD. Safe to say, she is not impressed.  

“Marinette has a crush on Adrien!” Each student yelled when hit by a beam of white-colored light. Right, the Akuma is trying to find her secrets and should be taken down without getting hit. She can do that. Also, this is exactly why she will not be sharing Ladybug's identity with you, Alya. Just because you are part of the Underground does not mean you are privy to all of the secrets. 

“Everybody knows that! That’s not a secret!” Wow. Like... ow. Truth is just being mean at this point. Marinette can keep a secret! She has been Ladybug, Multimouse, and the Guardian for years with nobody finding out her civilian identity unless given permission. ALSO! She can confidently say that she has gotten over her crush on Adrien Agreste. Was it hard? Yes. Will Marinette always have a soft spot for the boy who was also her partner in cri- heroism? Absolutely. Did she realistically have time between being Ladybug, running the Underground as Multimouse, going to school, completing commissions as MDC, and helping her parents in the pâtisserie for a crush? No, she did not. The stress of doing so was actually the main motivator to let the crush go (unknowingly advised by said crush before the reveal).  

Though it is a bit freeing to know that she now blushes, not from the reveal of her once crush on Adrien, but because everyone still believes she hasn't worked past it. Which... wow, that really says something. Something that Marinette will put on her "deal with later" list. 

Oh no, Truth is looking at her. He must have heard her sigh. Fuck 

“Ladybug, tell me your biggest secret!” he demands. If she was just a bit faster in hitting the deck, she wouldn’t have been hit on her right foot. was touched by the compelling laser. Double Fuck.  

The distinct purple moth mask appears over the face of Truth. Hawkmoth was watching, the psychotic bastard. Marinette has run out of fucks to give. Three is too many.  

“M’lady!” yells her partner, Chat Noir. He must have seen her get hit because he began to run at her, unbuckling his belt. Thank all that is good, for she had the same thought as Chat to use the belt as a gage. The problem with that idea is that it is assuming that he can get it to her before she spills any secrets. You know what they say, assume makes an ass out of u-and me.  

Marinette could tell from the sudden tension on the boat that everyone on that boat, Hawkmoth, and the thousands of people watching on the live stream Alya's blog was hosting were waiting for the admission of her civilian identity. It was what made Chat Noir run faster. What made the students (and Hawkmoth) hold their breath. It was not, however, what was causing Marinette to go through three panic attacks at the same time. No, that went to the knowledge that written on her birth certificate, in the space that was for the name of the birth father, was Bruce FREAKING Wayne. Also, the adoption papers claim her as Tom Dupain’s daughter.  

Her birth father wasn't the man who raised her! The man that she has grown up loving and hugging and bonding over video games with wasn’t her blood. The man who was her blood didn’t want her. And she knows this because she found no divorce or marriage certificates between her mother and Bruce Wayne: meaning he got her mother pregnant in a one-night stand or broke up with her as soon as he found out she was pregnant!  

Then he went and adopted Richard Greyson only a few months after she was born, making her self-confidence dive off the Eiffel Tower! The emotional weight just got heavier as she researched, and Instagram/Twitter stocked her would-be-siblings in the weeks since she found out. They looked so happy and comfortable! Happiness she could have been a part of if she had reached some type of criteria her father had that the others did. Marinette is sure that she would get along super well with them, yet she couldn't be claimed as their sister when Bruce had so easily thrown her away. 

Under no circumstances can she say all that as Ladybug, though. It could lead anyone curious enough to look to find out her identity. Good thing she knew Bruce Wayne was Batman. A startling realization at the time, but ultimately made sense. Didn’t make the feeling of inadequacy any better. Against her will, she opens her mouth and just barely finds the mental strength to switch the names Bruce Wayne and Batman before speaking.  

“My father isn’t my father! My bio dad is Batman, and he abandoned me, and my mother doesn’t know that I know now... FUCK.”  

Silence. Pure silence. Able-to-hear-a-pin-drop silence.  

“...what?” The silence is broken. Chat stands stunned staring incredulously at Ladybug like everyone else on the boat, but with the added layer of actually knowing her civilian identity. If Marinette could see Hawkmoth right then, she would have seen the same state of shock as her classmates. The would-have-been-helpful belt lays limp in Chat’s hand as they all try to reboot their brains. Truth rebooted faster than the others.  

“Why did he abandon you?” Ladybug, mentally screaming, couldn't move before the laser hit.  

“The hell if I know, he left as soon as he found out my mom was pregnant!” An assumption on her part, but pitying and sympathetic looks come from her classmates anyway. Chat is still stunned. The chat on the live stream Marinette had forgotten about stops for a second before rapidly whizzing by with many expletives and shocked face emojis. This will hopefully be a moment to laugh at in a few days... oh Kwami, please. 

“Do you resent him for it?” Ladybug tried to dodge, but her section of the boat was small and open. She got hit.  

“Yeah, a little. He abandons me and my mom and then a few months after I was born, the first Robin comes into the picture. So, it kind of hurts.” At this point, the students are too invested to move, and it is safe to assume that Chat will not be of any help during this fight as he is too far gone.  

“Are you jealous of the first robin?” Ladybug has no choice but to charge head-on and take the laser.  

“I don’t think so. I’m more hurt by the fact that he continued to adopt more kids, but never came back for me. And STOP ASKING INVASIVE QUESTIONS!” He engages her in hand-to-hand combat that has her performing awe-inspiring acrobatics to get around the eye. She lands a solid punch to his liver that has him doubling over just as the next question is asked.  

“Would you want a relationship with your siblings?”  

“I have always wanted siblings, but I don’t know if I can even call them that since Batman didn’t choose me but chooSE THE OTHERS!” Her last words were yelled in exertion as she judo-flips Truth over her shoulder with impressive agility and core strength. She is quick to snatch the akumatized necklace and break it. Purifying the Akuma and Amok, Marinette looks to the sky and heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Holy FUCK Batman. Thank you for giving me the next topic of my therapy sessions.”  

The French Government issued a blackout of all things Akuma-related at the beginning of this whole fiasco to keep from attracting the Justice League and their million-dollar guarantee solutions. It did not, however, withstand France's 64.6 million citizens working towards the same goal.  

They loved Ladybug. Like they loved her. She is the hero that created the team they can always depend on to save the day anywhere in France! Much more than the Justice League who had ignored her repeated calls that were sent outside of France and the blackout (It was a busy week for reporters when their beloved heroin had gone public with the ignored request for help. Fuck you Green Lantern).  

They loved her so much that to not only find out that Ladybug is the daughter of the American vigilante, detective extraordinaire, Batman, but that he also abandoned her, their displeasure will not go unheard. Every one of the thousands of people tuned into the Ladyblog’s live stream had saved it, cut it to manageable bits, and then sent it to everyone they knew on every internet platform they were on. 26 hours later, the rest of the world was calling for an explanation for the viral video that kept changing titles to not get deleted.  

The French government had no choice but to lift the blackout.   

As a result, the Ladyblog skyrocketed in viewership and recognition for its consistency in recording the Akuma fights (much to Alya’s delight and her friend's bemusement). Many viewers would just watch the saved live stream. More would watch the rest of the videos. News articles are read, websites visited, and people watched the Duo of Paris and, later, their Miracle Team take down villain after villain, day after day, battle after gruesome battle. With the Parisian public singing their praises, it wasn’t long before the rest of the world adored the Parisian Heros just as much as the locals - if not more so.  

All that the world was waiting for at this point was the inevitable reunion of the "Batfamily" and the Justice League's response to the Heroes of Paris. 

[starwarsmum]

And so begins Maribat BioFamily September! Thanks to @maribat-calendar-events for the prompt list! Posted on ao3

Day 1 Long Lost Sibling

Tim was having a bad day. He had woken up to news of a French supervillain that had apparently escaped notice of the Justice League and some, also unknown, French superheroes had defeated him. He was furious that he hadn't even heard a word about it, and was taking his bad mood out on the batcomputer.

“Timbo, what's happening?” Jason asked as he sauntered into the cave. Tim growled something unintelligible and Jason gave a once over of the screen. “Oh shit, is that about the French superheroes? Man, did you read up on the Ladyblog website? It was a hell of a traumatising read, I don't think I could think up some of that stuff even if Scarecrow were lending a hand.”

“How did we miss it?” Tim wailed, slumping at the keyboard. “I thought I knew so much about Paris, I was searching for MDC for so long, but how did I miss an entire supervillain?”

“Boys, time to suit up,” Bruce said, sweeping into the cave and grabbing his own suit. When they didn't immediately start moving, he gave them a stern look and explained, “The Justice League are greeting the French Superheroes Ladybug and Chat Noir. Now that they aren't afraid of people with legitimate powers of being akumatised, they're asking for help with the recovery of Paris’ citizens.”

In a flurry of activity, Tim and Jason were dressed and headed to the Zeta tube. Tim felt underprepared - he normally had a full view of the situation, from multiple angles, but he had scarcely had time to start looking into Hawkmoth's motivations. He had skimmed some basic background, which told him that Gabriel Agreste had lost his wife a few years ago, but that was all he had managed.

When Ladybug and Chat Noir arrived with Wonder Woman, Tim felt horror rise up in him. How were they so young? Sure, he and the other Robins had started young - hell, younger usually -  but they'd all had a mentor, and it was clear from the fights broadcast that that was not the case here.

Batman had made it clear that only he, his two Reds, Wonder Woman and Superman were allowed to be present during this first meeting. He had grumbled that it was unfortunate that Robin and Superboy were at school and couldn't be there, as having people of a similar age could help them feel more at ease.

“Welcome to the Watchtower, Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Superman said gently, offering a hand to the former. He gave a yelp when she said ‘Spots off’ and standing in her place was a girl with black hair, blue eyes and a weary expression. Chat Noir followed her lead and turned into a familiar boy with blond hair and a stricken expression across his face.

“Hi, I'm Marinette, and this is my partner Adrien Agreste. Yes, I said Agreste,” she said, eyeing them as though daring them to say something. Tim immediately admired the steely note in her voice, likely learned from being a teenager in the frontline of a war against an emotional terrorist.

She launched into an explanation of what they had been enduring over the past year, and Tim felt a mixture of horror and pity at what they had been through. When she finished, silence spread through the room and Chat Noir finally spoke up.

“So you can see why we want help,” he said quietly, showing none of the cocky self-assuredness he was known for. “If just for some therapy, m'lady and I need somebody to talk to. And I'm going to need someone to vouch for my character without revealing my identity to the hordes of angry people that want blood for what they've been through because of Hawkm- my dad.”

“Also, my parents are at their wits’ ends, I've been targeted in my civilian identity for the past six months and they want me out of the country for a couple of weeks while the trial goes through,” Marinette admitted. “They were hoping to send me to America since I was adopted from there, but they don't have any details of my birth family. It was a closed adoption and my birth parents were very clear that they didn't have the means to take care of me.”

“Well, we can help see if there's a direction we can point you in,” Batman said, stepping forward to place a comforting hand on both kids’ shoulders. “And I have contacts in America who can look after you if you do want to stay there for a while. They have the funds to house you for an indefinite period, should it come to that."

After that was a flurry of activity, Marinette giving a blood sample and Chat Noir being set up with a therapist and advocate for trials. Tim and Jason were left in charge of making sure Marinette made it home safely, after which Tim decided he was going to do everything in his power to help the pair.

_ _ _

“I don't believe it!” The shout tore out of him, horror and disbelief making him feel a little nauseous. But he had run the test several times and it showed a familial relationship between Marinette and one of the prominent families in Gotham. He had thought it strange that she just so happened to have the markers of a Wayne adoption, but would never have guessed this result.

“Tt, what is it, Drake?” Damian said, appearing behind him and scanning the information quickly. His eyebrows rose and practically disappeared into his hair. “Well, that is…interesting. I suppose congratulations are in order. It appears you are an actual older brother to someone.”

[jawsinsdisguise]

JAWSIN, THE DISGUISING TOON

Who's the toon who can be the most?

Jawsin!

Shows have plenty of budget, but they hardly have enough to keep creating toons left and right - which is why this toon was created! Jawsin's the solution to budget cuts, as he's the best at disguises and his entire room is full of costumes to transform him into whatever is needed that day. There are several episodes that have one-time antagonists, only for said antagonist to be revealed as Jawsin at the end of said episode. Some say it's left Jawsin without a sense of self - never knowing who he is really is. Hardly anyone sees him without a costume - Jawsin makes it that way, as there is plenty of nervousness that follows if he isn't disguised. A shark appears to be his favorite suit.

ABILITY 1

Face Swap - Active

In Game Description :

"This toon can become a Twisted present on the floor and become unnoticeable to their eyes. However, other toons will also see Jawsin as a Twisted. Jawsin can also mimic toons present on the floor."

...He can also take the stats of said toons and twisteds, using their ability once before the disguise is discarded. If a toon gets too close to Jawsin while he is disguised, they can also bring him out of his disguise. The same does not happen for Twisteds unless Jawsin is extracting or picking up/using items while disguised. A Twisted disguise will make Twisteds ignore him; but a toon disguise will only leave Jawsin vulnerable. If Jawsin is discovered while wearing a Twisted disguise, it will be like if a toon was being pursued, music starting and all, but since Jawsin is the one in disguise, nothing will happen if the toon chooses.

ABILITY 2

Identity Crisis - Passive

In Game Description :

"After a disguise is discarded, Jawsin is left without a costume. Conscious of his appearance, this toon must find his shark costume around the floor before doing anything else."

...A literal description, Jawsin will be unable to extract or pick up/use items when he doesn't have a costume on. If close to a fellow toon, he will suffer slowness in this state from his own anxiety. Below is his appearance without his shark costume.

TRINKET

The Shark-Tooth Necklace

"A necklace worn often by Jawsin while in his favorite shark costume."

Grants 10% extra extracting speed, and grants an overall bonus of 10% while in a blackout.

Twisted Jawsin

That's all I have in terms of game functionality! Time for some actual character traits / headcanons / extra info, if you care for it.

Jawsin is pronounced "Jason" but with an added W behind it and the o turned into an i. I did it for the sake of the pun.

Jawsin is purely a he/him male - even if he disguises himself as a female toon, it will be less believable as he wiil get a sense of dysphoria when inside the costume. It's why the episodes that Jawsin is featured in consists of antagonists that are either male or genderless. Jawsin's gender is one of the only remaining parts of his identity he can latch onto.

Suffers from panic/anxiety attacks outside of costumes and acting. Acting is what keeps him away from the negativity plaguing him.

Jawsin's favorite color is blue, so his speech will be colored as such.

Jawsin's costumes will often move all lifelike when he wears them, but it's mainly an illusion.

He's short - probably amongst the shortest toons.

Has learned to walk on stilts!

Jawsin has a room that's the size of a storage closet - because that's where he keeps all of his costumes. He will often sleep on top of them as he has no furniture in there.

Jawsin values his own life little outside of acting, so when the show was being canceled - he was probably the most crushed, but one of his last episodes would be the other toons helping Jawsin find his individuality, but the plot was scrapped in favor of the main character toons getting more screentime.

Because of this, Jawsin still has yet to value his individuality.

Susceptible to bullying, one of Shrimpo's easiest targets.

Stutters plenty when not focused on a specific role - his voice is scratchy and quiet normally.

More could be added, but this is all for Jawsin as of now!

[faneliansficaloh]

A Lifetime of Happiness

(Ch 1) (Ch 2) (Ch 3) (Ch 4) (Ch 5) (Ch 6) (Ch 7) (Ch 8) (Ch 9) (Ch 10)

This is Chapter 11

Notes

----------

26 December 1817

Dear Penelope,

I am afraid that temperate weather, although good for one’s spirits in general, does not make for the spirit we generally associate with the Christmas season. It doesn’t feel right to have the need for open windows so the breeze can cool one off. We should be wearing our heavy winter coats and gloves. At least our cook has been kind enough to learn to bake a perfect plum pie. That woman can bake anything to perfection, she is a treasure.

We were served fish as the main course for Christmas eve dinner at Lord Thornton’s if you can believe it. Here the celebration for Christmas commences in earnest on the eve of it and reaches its apex at midnight. There were celebrations with fireworks going off at that time, which made it impossible for the children to remain in bed, in turn making them almost unbearably ill humoured through Christmas day. How is that even possible?

Mr. Finch has communicated the good news that your sister Phillipa is with child again. I wonder if the poor man has had a night of sleep in the last two years, I admire his dedication to his family but even in his letters he sounds like he could use a nap, be kind to him.

Amy wants to know what Abby’s favourite colour is, and to please tell her that hers is still yellow. Ollie, surprising no one has declared his to be blue. I have to applaud their constancy.

We all send our love to both of you.

Yours, Colin.

1815 – The First dance.

Her mother had been preoccupied as of late with getting her sisters to produce an heir for the Featherington title. It seemed there was a chance that if any of her daughters could birth a boy, the Featherington title would go to that child, somehow. Penelope did not care enough about that to give it much thought. She needed to concentrate on getting a husband. Primarily because she needed to forget about Colin for good, and secondarily because this Featherington title business had put her into the precarious possibility of having to live at the mercy of one of her sisters, not that living her life to support her mother in her older years was a thrilling prospect either.

She could not withstand that. She needed to be able to have her own home, hopefully a kind husband that would let her be on her own so she could continue to write, and maybe even her own children to shower with affection.

It had been easy to get her mother’s approval to go to the modiste on her own and pick her own garments, as it had been her own suggestion that she should get whatever she felt she needed to succeed. Genevive was simply thrilled at the prospect of having the opportunity to use her full talents to dress Penelope.

“Miss Penelope, I have been praying for this since you first made your debut. I have been so mortified letting you go out on those dreadful colours and such dowdy cuts your mother kept pushing for, but she is --”

“She is a force of nature, is she not?” she nodded knowingly.

“Oh, I am truly sorry, but she is the most difficult of all my clientele!”

“There is no need to apologize, I’ve lived with the woman all of my life. I think she means well, but she was not blessed with your eye for fashion. I am fully in your hands now, Madame. What do you recommend?”

Genevive smiled like she had been given a precious gift, eyeing her greedily.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun, miss Penelope. We will make you shine!” Genevieve would make the most of this opportunity – Penelope was truly a blank page that she could work and make true art from – and it didn’t hurt that she had a full purse.

“Just – No yellows, please”

“Oh, no, not at all my dear”

And so, as Penelope entered Lady Danbury’s ballroom for the first ball of the season of 1815, she could feel the nervousness of revealing a new identity to the world. She had been overcome at seeing herself so changed when trying on this new dress. Genevive had picked the most gorgeous dark green shot silk and adjusted the cut of the dress to highlight her figure in an attractive way, which she had never been fully able to do before. Penelope had asked Rae to get rid of the ringlets in her hair and opted for softer waves instead.

She had felt very confident at home but now that she was exposed to the eyes of the ton, it was nerve wracking. She realized her ugly yellow dresses had served her as a kind of armour that, at least in her mind, made it so other people would look away without a second glance. But now people were staring and lingering, eyes were perusing her with interest, not immediately bored and cast away.

She gathered the courage to descend the steps as she caught Eloise’s smiling at her from the crowd, so with newfound resolution, she made her way on her own to the middle of the room, near the dance floor.

“Oh, Penelope looks lovely” Marina said, prompting Colin to turn around and look for her.

He had to swallow with some difficulty before responding “She does, that colour suits her very well. But why is no one with her?”

“She’s hardly a debutante now, Colin, I don’t think many introductions are required. And we’re surrounded by family everywhere shall the need arise”

He then saw men had approached her, which was probably why Eloise had delayed on her attempt to join her, the coward. Penelope had her back to him so he couldn’t see if she was happy or uncomfortable. People kept distracting him, expecting him to participate in conversation and he thought it best to do so, lest his staring became too obvious. He had a mind to go to her when he looked again and saw the men had left her alone, but Francesca was now with her, which was good. Next time he looked, Eloise finally joined them, but very soon a man took Francesca away for a dance so it was just the two of them now. He could put his mind at ease now, he knew Eloise would not leave her alone.

“Pen! You’ve made quite a stir! I see your friendship with Madame DelaCroix is paying off, that is a smashing dress.”

“She really outdid herself, didn’t she? But I was not prepared for all the staring, and I have botched every attempt at conversing with the gentlemen that approached me. It was beyond embarrassing”

“I’m afraid I cannot be much help there, Pen, I am not exactly known for my graceful demeanour. And being the scandalous woman that I am, I cannot help you attract suitors. In fact, are you sure you don’t mind being seen with me? I might be more of a deterrent”

“I don’t think anyone cares about your scandal by now, El. The lack of approaching suitors, not that you truly lament it, is because we are well known by now and the men are all too busy examining the newcomers.”

“All I can say is that you should not care so much what they think. If they do not understand you, then good riddance! You wouldn’t want to marry someone like that, anyway, I hope. But enough about men. Should we go get some refreshments? I saw an attractive selection of cold treats over the winter section, of all locations.”

“Where would you have them be?” She was amused at her nitpicking.

“Wouldn’t summer make more sense? If it were truly winter, would you care for lemon ice?”

“I suppose not, but I could go for one right now”

It was when they were looking at the cold treats that Lady Danbury called their names, making them turn back immediately, caught completely off guard.

“Good evening! Miss Penelope Featherington, Miss Eloise Bridgerton, allow me to introduce Lord Debling” She gestured towards the tall blond man that accompanied her. They both curtsied.

“Good evening!” both said in unison.

“I hope you are all enjoying yourselves”

“Of course, Lady Danbury, it is a truly splendid night!” Penelope answered with a tinge of nervousness fraying her voice.

“Very much, yes” Eloise was doing her best to control her instinct to flee.

“Lord Debling is finally joining us in London after a rather long hiatus. When was the last time you graced us with your presence, my Lord?”

His voice had a warm quality to it, but his tone was mirthful “I believe it was eight years ago, Lady Danbury. It has been very kind of you to still consider me worthy of an invitation.”

“As long as it doesn’t take you another decade to come back” The old woman teased.

“I cannot make any promises” There was a little spark in his clear blue eyes.

“Maybe someone else can persuade you, then” He chuckled softly, through closed lips that were surrounded by a full beard, which gave him an air of of solemnity, even when he was clearly amused.“Miss Bridgerton, would you be so kind as to accompany me? There is something I need to discuss with you” Penelope felt a rush of panic invading her. She would be left on her own with him.

“Beg your pardon?” Eloise, who had been fidgeting with her curricle quickly raised her eyes to look at Lady Danbury, completely taken by surprise.

“Come with me” Lady Danbury extended a hand to her, impatiently, giving her a significant look. Eloise was instantly relieved, even though she felt bad at abandoning Penelope like that.

“If you’ll excuse me, duty calls, apparently. Pleasure to meet you, Lord Debling” Once they were behind his back, Eloise turned around quickly and gestured to Penelope “I’m sorry!” and raising her fists encouragingly she gave her a pursed smile before walking away with Lady Danbury.

“Are you very close with Lady Danbury, my Lord?” Said Penelope, nervously, and regretting not having something more interesting to begin a conversation.

“Not really close, no. But she is held in very high regard in many circles, some of which we do have in common”

“Eight years seems like a rather long time to miss one of her famous events” It was very evident to her that he had not been keeping up with fashion. His attire seemed slightly behind the times, which was betrayed by the ruffles in the cuff of his shirt sleeves, as did his full beard. But he held himself confidently, so it was intriguing to her if he didn’t notice or just didn’t care about being fashionable at all.

“It is indeed a long time. I had just come back from Cambridge and my late father insisted at the time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! About your father, not-- not about having to come here-- or about Cambridge, of course!” She laughed nervously and was starting to feel flustered, fearing that she might begin to fumble her words even further. Then a thought occurred to her. This man had not been around to witness her social failures in the last two years. He hadn’t seen her in her citrus, oddly shaped dresses. To him she had always been this version of herself. He didn’t know her, and it was as Eloise had said – if he didn’t like her, then what was truly lost?

“Thank you, it’s been a long time since his passing.” He shrugged almost imperceptibly.

“If the last time you were here was only at the behest of your father, what brings you back after this long?” He looked at her with a furrowed brow and then smiled

“I am assessing what London’s society has to offer”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ah! Well, as you can see” Said Penelope resolutely and to her own astonishment, completely in control of herself, as she turned to openly face the room and gesture sweepingly with her hand “We have a little of everything. Marriage eager mamas and their beautiful young charges, discerning gentlemen conversing about very important matters to be sure, music, dancing and surely you won’t find a more wonderful array of food and refreshments anywhere in the world.” A genial smile adorned her face.

“Hmm, truly, so many wonders! Anything you would recommend particularly?” He raised a brow, questioningly.

“If you are not hungry or thirsty, you should try dancing. Unless you’d rather join the musicians?” He laughed softly, clearly very amused.

“I’m afraid I did not bring my violin with me, so, would you do me the honour?”

She took the arm he was offering “Why, of course!”. She could not believe herself. She felt the rush that was usually reserved for the times she had haggled with merchants and printers for Whistledown, and she realized where her bout of confidence had come from.

As they positioned themselves for the dance she asked him, with genuine curiosity “Do you really play the violin, my Lord?”

“I do” He said as they started the quadrille.

Earlier, Colin had noted Anthony and Kate were dancing away, unbothered by anything around them, so evidently in love with each other, it was hard to imagine his brother had been intent on marrying her sister instead. He was happy for them, that they had been able to rectify their mistakes and enjoy their happiness together. Francesca was also dancing now, although she did not look as blessedly happy. Lady Featherington was talking with Lady Cowper and her friends, Phillipa and Prudence were with their husbands picking food... and Eloise was coming his way arm in arm with Lady Danbury herself, so that meant that unless Benedict… no, Benedict was talking to Fife. There was an unknown man talking with Penelope on the far side of the ballroom.

“Thank you for walking with me, Miss Bridgerton. I shall leave you in the company of your family” Colin was clearly not paying attention so she addressed him directly “Is everything alright, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Oh, yes quite alright” he said, startled.

“He’s probably just wondering who that gentleman is, talking to Miss Featherington” Said Marina with what seemed to be an amused smile.

“Oh, yes. That would be Lord Debling, I just introduced them.” She seemed rather pleased with herself

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I heard he is looking to take a wife this season” Violet’s enthusiasm was incredibly offensive to Colin.

“He is, he has told me so himself. I think Miss Featherington would be a very good match. He’s of a scientific mind, rather reserved, but he has a quick wit and a good head on his shoulders. He does have a peculiar interest in nature, but nothing objectionable”

“He’s rather handsome, too” Marina interjected

“What a paragon of virtue!” Said Colin, sardonically.

“Not as handsome as you, of course, my dear husband” He forced a smile at her sarcasm.

“Oh, they’re going to the dance floor!” Violet was as excited as if it were Eloise dancing with the man. Colin looked for Lady Featherington and she also seemed delighted, but he could swear even she wasn’t as excited as his own mother.

Eloise was puzzled by all the excitement surrounding this man’s interest in Penelope. She would have been utterly disgusted but the truth was she was also invested, as she knew marriage was something Penelope wanted, as much as she could not understand it.

“Well, we shall see if Penelope even likes the man before sending out the wedding invitations, shall we?” was all she could say.

Colin had never liked his sister so much as he did in that moment. “Finally, some sense!”

“Heavens, of course!” Violet chuckled.

“You’ll have to excuse me, I need to go back to our Queen now. Please enjoy yourselves!” and then in not-quite-secret asked Violet “Let me know how it goes” Lady Danbury then retired from the group.

“We must go home now” Colin said, looking at his watch “I have to be at the ministry early tomorrow” He and Marina said their goodbyes and left. As they reached the top of the stairs, Colin fought the urge to look back at the dance floor, but he could not help himself. Penelope was smiling, she looked radiant, happy. He made haste and left, Marina following him closely, not missing out on his behaviour.

“Eloise, since Penelope might not be as available to you this season, you might want to expand your circle of friends a little? I’m sure the other young ladies also have something to offer”

“Must I, mother?” Eloise had not had much luck so far, making conversation with other young women in the ton. Most of them seemed to be entirely focused on marriage and what she considered to be trivial endeavours or accomplishments that she saw with disdain. But – she thought – what if Penelope kept getting asked to dance and suddenly did not have time for her? She would be stuck hovering around her siblings and her mother. And her siblings were not reliable company either. Francesca was also intent in marrying and already, on her very first ball, had been dancing or surrounded by men practically since they got there. Benedict was hiding away most of the time, he would not stick around her since she was an attention magnet for their mother. Anthony was besotted with his new wife – who she liked very much but who was just as besotted with her brother, and Colin came in a bundle with his wife these days as well, but she did not like Marina at all.

“Please make an effort at least?”

“Very well. I will go take a turn about to see if I catch a friend or two, then”

As she was walking to a group of ladies, she noticed the dance had ended and Penelope was now free, so she corrected course, but was still able to catch the voice of Cressida Cowper as she passed by her.

“Yes, well the dress might be beautiful, it is only a shame it is wasted on her. He must have taken pity on her”

Eloise stopped and looked at her. It was evident as the group of ladies were looking at Penelope, that she was referring to her, so she turned back entirely to confront her.

“Do you really feel that threatened by Penelope, Cressida, that you have to resort to talking about her this cruelly? It is no wonder you have no real friends” Cressida gave her an incredulous offended, sweeping look as the other ladies fled away from the scene. “See? No one is willing to stand for you”

“Oh, because you’re surrounded by friends? There is a reason why only Penelope hovers around you”

“Of course, because I’m a delight!” She then turned back around to go to Penelope but she could still hear what Cressida added

“More likely your brothers” Eloise just kept walking away.

Cressida might not be considered clever in an intellectual level by anyone who had met her, but she always knew how to hurt people. It was an instinct very well honed, Eloise thought. They hardly ever exchanged words but here she had still managed to touch a sensitive fibre. Ever since Penelope had revealed to her that she was Whistledown, Eloise had wondered why she had felt the need to conceal it from her so called best friend. Did Penelope not consider her a true, reliable friend? Maybe she just saw her as a means to spend time with Colin? Wasn’t it odd that neither of them had any other friends outside her own family? But that wasn’t true, Eloise knew Penelope had a friendship with Madam DelaCroix now.

“So, how did it go?” She asked Penelope as soon as she reached her.

“Were you talking to Cressida?” She was intrigued.

“Pay no attention to that. Tell me”

“I did enjoy dancing, even though I was very nervous, I managed not to step on him. You will be proud to know that I followed your advise and tried not to care what he would think of me too much.”

“Oh, good!” She was genuinely glad.

“I was surprised Lady Danbury went to the trouble for me”

“She was rather invested, let me tell you. Everyone in our group was talking about you and Lord Debling”

“Is there really nothing more interesting going on?” she scrunched her nose.

“It seems we all find you very interesting tonight, Pen. Lady Whistledown will have to talk about your success, for once”

“Eloise!”

“She has to be kind to you for once! And not the pitiful type of kindness either”

Penelope gave her an admonishing look but then smiled. “Oh, alright, but it cannot be all self-serving, either.” She had to accept that she was doing rather well that night, all things considered.

“I am a very good friend, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are! Now it can’t all be about me, so we better move around”

Cressida could eat a lemon and choke on it, Eloise thought, with a smug smile on her face.

***

Marina had grown suspicious of Colin’s sullen behaviour but she waited until they were back in their home on Doughty street to say something, using the ride home to consider if she should say anything at all.

They were walking towards the stairs, Colin following behind her, when she finally asked him “For that you dragged me out tonight? Why did you even want to go if we were to leave so soon?”

“Lady Danbury is a very powerful woman, Marina, we should be in her good graces. And I did not drag you, you could have stayed if you wanted.”

She stopped suddenly, just at the bottom of the staircase, turning around and causing him to halt suddenly, almost crashing into her. She was blocking his way and put her hands on his chest, looking up at his eyes, lips half parted, teasing, perhaps offering a kiss.

He was taken aback “What are you doing?”

“I thought perhaps you would like to come with me into my room tonight” She reached out to touch his face but he recoiled, removing her hands with his.

“It’s too late.” He motioned with his hand for her to move “I’m going to sleep, good night.”

“Good night” she utttered coldly, worry in her face.

That night neither of them could sleep thinking of Penelope. Marina fearing she would lose everything to her and Colin thinking how he had always taken her presence for granted and was now in danger of losing her forever.

Chapter 12

[whumpbug]

Okay okay, I have to ask

What is the #1 WORST injury Archie has ever sustained? Was it before or after Simon became his personal nurse? How did he survive? If Simon was there, how scared was he? How scared was 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦?

oh god. this is such a good question.....i had to think about this one a LOT but i finally got an idea for the situation. i'm gonna say this was after simon was archie's personal nurse and when they were already a bit more comfortable with eachother and very close

i might write this as a fic one day tbh but i fear my medical knowledge isnt THAT good to describe the injury in the detail i would want.

slightly long post under the cut!!!

cw: very slightly graphic description of a gunshot wound and blood

✮⋆˙

the worst part about it was that it wasn't even by some notorious criminal or drug lord. it was just a random mugger.

archie had been patrolling late at night when he saw a woman getting mugged while she was walking home alone.

the guy didn't look too experienced. he looked a little young and panicked, and archie figured he would try to talk him down before throwing any punches

he kept the guys attention on him, and consquently, the gun pointed at him as well. was it a little reckless? sure, but he just didn't want to put the woman in danger.

he was almost certain the guy was too scared to actually shoot.

he was doing his best to keep both the mugger and the woman calm, and he had almost fully deescalated the situation when the woman's panic reached its peak, and she suddenly jerked out of the guys grasp and started RUNNING.

the mugger got so startled that he pulled the trigger. practically point-blank into archie's chest.

he took off running as well, throwing the gun down and booking it to try and Not get arrested.

and that left archie, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his chest, staggering to conceal himself in an alleyway.

he knew something was wrong. he felt dizzy and out of breath and his entire body was shaking and he just. i feel like his intuition knew it was more serious that a simple little gunshot wound. he knew that if he didn't get help fast, he was going to die. and he was terrified.

he called simon.

simon rushed over, of course, quite literally shaking because archie only ever called simon to the field in the middle of the night when things were bad.

he had never driven so fast in his life.

when he arrived, archie was slumped over, hands clutching at the wound, and he was gasping for air.

this was. abnormal.

usual symptoms for blood loss were things like confusion, lethargy, weak and shallow breathing, but gasping? blue-tinged skin? Not Normal.

just one look at where the wound was and simon knew what likely had happened.

archie's lung was collapsing.

this was the first, and only time simon ever broke the no hospital rule.

archie is very strict on the no hopsital rule unless he can change into civilian clothing first because he really does NOT want his identity revealed. simon hates this rule, but he respects it because 1) there hasn't really been a situation he hasn't been able to handle yet and 2) archie was so very adamant and simon had never seen him so serious about something

but in this moment, simon did not care about the damn rule or his identity or anything. he just needed archie to be okay. so to the hopsital they went. if you thought simon was driving fast before, think again.

this is also one of the first times simon was crying while panicking. usually, he panicked a bit, steadied himself, dealt with the situation, then could deal with his emotions later.

but this time, he couldn't keep from sobbing as he drove archie to the hospital because he's a med student. he knows death. he knows the look people get in their eyes when they know they aren't going to make it and seeing that in archie's eyes? simon fought sobs the entire drive to the hospital.

luckily, the doctors didn't ask too many questions as it was an emergency, and treated archie right away.

archie ended up needing to stay for 2 days. they had to place a chest tube to help the air escape from his pleural cavity, and he was out of it for a lot of it. simon stayed by his side the entire time, holding his hand for dear life and gently shushing and reassuring him when the sight of the literal tube in his chest started freaking him out.

simon didn't get a wink of sleep. he stayed up, even when archie was asleep, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. he tried not to think how close he came to losing him. i definitely think simon gained a few gray hairs that day.

but archie was also equally as terrified. nothing is worse than the feeling of your lungs literally getting smaller with every single breath you take. archie was so sure he was going to die, so when he woke up in a hospital bed with his favorite person by his side? the relief was dizzying.

so yeah! archie is fine guys. CLEARLY. he has the little scar from the tube and the Trauma, but ended up otherwise unscathed.

✮⋆˙

this was so sad to answer but also. so very fun to emotional whump these guys yet again. TECHNICALLY this might not even be archie's worst injury because i have a vague idea for him in the FAR future but its still so vague so thats why i didn't include it. i hope this answer will suffice!!! thank you so much anon!!!

[bluelockhalloweek]

Blue Lock Halloweek 2023 Prompts are here—can’t wait to see what y’all create!

👻 Reblog with your favorites prompts & share with your Blue Lock crew!

👻 Find the event on Twitter @/BllkHalloweek

👻 See below for more info, typed-out prompts, & prompt examples if you need clarification or inspiration

👻 Feel free to mix and match, and take prompts as literally or as tangentially as you want!

👻 Work doesn’t have to be specifically Fall / Halloween themed as long as it fits a prompt. (If you’re writing a superhero fic for “Mask,” don’t feel like you have to stick a 🎃 in a corner unless you want to.)

👻 Work can be as lighthearted, scary, or spicy as you want as long as you follow the updated guidelines!

👻 Thank you to everyone who submitted prompts, & credit to the anons who suggested The Witching Hour & Mischief Night! A lot of suggestions were already on my longer list or were very similar, or might be better saved for next year. If your favorite isn't on the list, the “Free Prompt” finale is your day!

👻 Find event Archive of Our Own here!

👻 The event is on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3, so share your contribution on all three!

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Blue Lock Halloweek (+ 2!): October 23 - October 31, 2023

Monday 23: Pumpkin spice + Do you believe in magic?

Tuesday 24: Masks + Heartbeat

Wednesday 25: Things that go bump in the night + Festival

Thursday 26: Firelight + Dark Waters

Friday 27: Paranoia + The Witching Hour

Saturday 28: Monster’s Ball + Hunter’s Moon (actual full moon date & name!)

Sunday 29: Angels & Demons + Castle

Monday 30: Spirit + Movie / Mischief Night (actual night)

Tuesday 31 🎃: Sweet Tooth / Sucker + Free Prompt!

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Now for Prompt Examples + Explanations 

I’ve had people ask for prompt examples in past events I’ve hosted and this event is open to any language, so here you go! These are the quick brainstorming notes (now expanded with links & definitions) I took while narrowing down the list to be sure the final prompts were unique enough / without toooo much overlap, and covered enough areas. Only some of maaaany interpretations—go wild!

Your host is a fic-writer with ADHD, so…you’ve been warned.

Day 1: 

Pumpkin Spice: Cozy Autumn vibes. Putting up Halloween decorations, carving Jack-o-lanterns, coffee / tea shop, pumpkin patch, scented candles, baking, fall sangria, sweaters and beanies and flannels, momijigari (Autumn Hanami 🌸, basically) / admiring gorgeous fall foliage, fresh hot apple cider in an orchard. Itoshi Bros and their love of turtle/mock-neck sweaters. Pumpkin Farmer Aiku and Karasu scarecrow!

Do you believe in magic?: Revealing their magical powers for the first time. Crystal ball, tarot. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, etc. AU. Non-literal magic in relationships (feeling understood, chemistry, humor matching up perfectly, etc). Wands, spells, magical objects, magical creatures, etc.. Making a wish. Alexis "The Magician" Ness.

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Day 2:

Masks: Costumes, super heroes, putting up a front, acting like something you’re not, classic masked Halloween meet-cute, secret / concealed identities, spies, ninja and samurai and assassins (Karasu and Otoyaaa!) Niko hiding his eyes / face.

Heartbeat: Racing heart from excitement, fright, romance, spice. No heartbeat like undead, zombie or vampire, etc.. Skip a beat, beat faster, beat slower (calm and comfort). Chigiri on the run from zombies, zombie Lorenzo!

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Day 3: 

Things that go bump in the night: unexplained (scary or otherwise) noises in the night, whispers or voices, ghosts and other supernatural entities, haunted house / place, anything scary, …spicy. Spooky Owl outside Rin’s window. 

Festival: String lights illuminating festival stalls, costumes, traditional attire (Aryu looking stylish!), food and drink, games, Isagi devouring fried fair food. Fall Music festival. Mid-Autumn Festival (with all the pretty lanterns and mooncakes 🥮), Harvest / Fall Fests in general. Bobbing for apples, caramel / candy apples, carnival rides and games, Ferris wheel. Oktoberfest; Kaiser and/or any Bastard München player in Lederhosen—please, I’m begging!! Fun house / haunted house. Day of the Dead festivities. 

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Day 4:

Firelight: Cauldrons, brewing potions. Candles, rituals, bonfires. Autumn camping trip, s’mores, spooky firelight shadows outside the tent, got lost on a hiking trip & have to make a fire to keep warm! Torches, candles, lanterns lighting the way in a definitely not-haunted place. Hell, your favorite circle (Dante’s Inferno) 😈

Dark Waters: merpeople, sirens, sea monsters, kraken, pirates (Kurona and Raichi, Bachira 🐬!), sharks, shipwreck, ghost ships, stranded on a deserted island, haunted lakes, lake spirits, Autumn fishing trip, swamp monsters, bogs and marshes, willowisps, alligators, snakes. Loch Ness Monster

(Fire and water, light and dark)

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Day 5:

Paranoia: Fear and suspicion, feeling like someone’s watching and you just can’t shake it (...Ego and his cameras), feeling like you’re losing your mind, etc.. Doesn’t have to be all bad! Maybe there was a misunderstanding before a fun surprise. 

The Witching hour: Wiki / dictionary. Depending on whom you ask, the hour is either midnight or 3am - 4am. Supernatural entities / practitioners of dark arts are the most active and powerful. These entities might feel compelled / drawn out into the world. Magic and danger, inexplicable happenings! Humans ought to be at home and safely tucked in bed at this late hour, or else... Fun fact, the Orionid meteor shower peaks juuust before this event starts (in my hemisphere, at least) but continue until November, and the best time to view meteor showers is generally around the witching hour (after midnight / 3-4am). Can also mean the time in which people get up to no good or questionable stuff. 

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Day 6:

Monster’s Ball: Monsters, creatures. Bachiraaa. Halloween party, masquerade, nightlife (going out in costume—or not—to bars and clubs). Reo buying a round. Literal ⚽ ball (Lil Isagi trick-or-treating in Noa’s kit), Halloween Practice (like in high school or college when your coach let you have a fun practice in costume before a holiday—absolute chaos and so fun!). Whatever chaos and debauchery y’all can imagine. Just follow the event guidelines and tag accordingly! Green eyed monster (jealousy), Cinderella’s Ball (Sae and Shidou!)

Hunter’s Moon: The date of the actual full Hunter’s Moon—lucky us! Sometimes called the Blood Moon. Full moon, werewolves, moonlight, on the hunt or being hunted, spells and rituals, Tsukimi / moon viewing + Tsukimi dango 🎑, moon myths and gods. Celestial things, Kurona and Isagi planetary hotline / astronauts, aliens.

(Monster vs Hunter day, ha)

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Day 7:

Angels and Demons: Demon and priest, hell, listening to the angel or the devil on your shoulder (making a questionable decision because it’s tempting), devilish fun or spells, sin, temptation, a deal with the devil. Ohhh, Sae and Shidou, your night has come! 😈

Castle: fairytales, knights, vampires, dungeons, Royalty (King Barou, Emperor Kaiser!). Also super Sae and Shidou.

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Day 8: 

Spirit: ghosts, haunted houses, GhostBusters, spirit entities like yokai, Ghost Adventures. Gagamaru as a friendly Yokai! Shaman. Possession, possessed or cursed objects. JJK. Ouija board game! Monk Igaguri. 

Movie Night: Watching a scary (or not scary) movie, series, anime, etc. So many movie/show Alternate Universes. Sendou living his Hollywood dreams. Barbie please!!! Nagi nodding off halfway through. The guys as a character from their favorite movie listed in the Egoist Bible.

Mischief Night: Wiki page. The night before Halloween for hijinks, pranks, scaring each other! Toilet papering Ego’s house. Can be more sinister, too. 

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Day 9: Halloween!

Sweet tooth / sucker: Trick-or-Treating, candy corn, so much candy, caramel corn, vampires or anything with fangs, bite, ‘sucker’ like 🍭 or vampires, or…

Free day / AU (alternate universe) Palooza!: 

Whatever Halloween stuff you want that doesn’t quite fit a prompt! Just listing some of the things I would draw (if I could) or write (if i had time):

Video game au for Hiori! Pokemon! Ego as a gangly cowboy, ⚽️ bolo tie and all. Barou as the "Cowardly" Lion in the Wizard of Oz. And finally, artists, if you're reading this, please, please consider Noel Noa (of the 🇫🇷 French National 🥖 Team!!) dressed as Bonjour Man from Life Lessons with Uramichi Onii-san (clip, manga cap). Please Omg. This image has literally been haunting me since starting this event and the manga/anime (even the dub!) is soooo funny. And technically, Bonjour Man is a cursed spirit sooo 👻

Okay, that's it. Hope y'all have fun. Please reblog and spread the word 🧡🖤

[canichangemyblogname]

I watched all eight episodes of season 1 of Blue Eye Samurai over the weekend. I then went browsing because I wanted to read some online reviews of the show to see what people were thinking of it and also because I wanted to interact with gifs and art, as the series is visually stunning.

Yet, in my search for opinions on the show, I came across several points I'd like to address in my own words:

Mizu’s history and identity are revealed piece-by-piece and the “peaches” scene with Mizu and Ringo at the lake is intended to be a major character reveal. I think it’s weird that some viewers got angry over other viewers intentionally not gendering Mizu until that reveal, rather than immediately jumping to gender the character as the other characters in the show do. The creators intentionally left Mizu’s gender and sexuality ambiguous (and quite literally wrote in lines to lead audiences to question both) to challenge the viewer’s gut assumption that this lone wolf samurai is a man. That intentional ambiguity will lead to wide and ambiguous interpretations of where Mizu fits in, if Mizu fits in at all. But don't just take my word for this:

Re: above. I also think it’s weird that some viewers got upset over other viewers continuing to acknowledge that Mizu has a very complicated relationship with her gender, even after that reveal. Canonically, she has a very complicated relationship with her identity. The character is intended to represent liminality in identity, where she’s often between identities in a world of forced binaries that aren’t (widely) socially recognized as binaries. But, again, don’t just take my word for this:

Mizu is both white and Japanese, but she is also not white and not Japanese simultaneously (too white to be Japanese and too Japanese to be white). She’s a woman and a man. She’s a man who’s a woman. She’s also a woman who’s not a woman (yet also not quite a man). But she’s also a woman; the creators said so. Mizu was raised as a boy and grew into a man, yet she was born a girl, and boyhood was imposed upon her. She’s a woman when she’s a man, a man when she’s a man, and a woman when she’s a woman.

Additionally, Mizu straddles the line between human and demon. She’s a human in the sense she’s mortal but a demon in the sense she’s not. She's human yet otherworldly. She's fallible yet greatness. She's both the ronin and the bride, the samurai and the onryō. In short, it’s complicated, and that’s the point. Ignoring that ignores a large part of her internal character struggle and development.

Mizu is intended to represent an “other,” someone who stands outside her society in every way and goes to lengths to hide this “otherness” to get by. Gender is a mask; a tool. She either hides behind a wide-brimmed hat, glasses, and laconic anger, or she hides behind makeup, her dress, and a frown. She fits in nowhere, no matter the identity she assumes. Mizu lives in a very different time period within a very different sociocultural & political system where the concept of gender and the language surrounding it is unlike what we are familiar with in our every-day lives. But, again, don’t just take my word for this:

It’s also weird that some viewers have gotten upset over the fact women and queer people (and especially queer women) see themselves in Mizu. Given her complicated relationship with identity under the patriarchy and colonial violence, I think Mizu is a great character for cis-het women and queer folks alike to relate to. Her character is also great for how she breaks the mold on the role of a biracial character in narratives about identity (she’s not some great bridge who will unite everyone). It does not hurt anyone that gender-fluid and nonbinary people see themselves in Mizu's identity and struggle with identity. It does not hurt anyone that lesbians see themselves in the way Mizu expresses her gender. It does not hurt anyone that trans men see themselves in Mizu's relationship with manhood or that trans women can see themselves in Mizu when Mama forces her to be a boy. It's also really cool that cis-het women see themselves in Mizu's struggles to find herself. Those upset over these things are missing critical aspects of Mizu's character and are no different from the other characters in the story. The only time Mizu is herself is when she’s just Mizu (“…her gender was Mizu”), and many of the other characters are unwilling to accept "just Mizu." Accepting her means accepting the complicatedness of her gender.

Being a woman under the patriarchy is complicated and gives women a complicated relationship with their gender and identity. It is dangerous to be a woman. Women face violence for being women. Being someone who challenges sex-prescribed norms and roles under patriarchy also gives someone a complicated relationship with their identity. It is dangerous to usurp gender norms and roles (then combine that with being a woman...). People who challenge the strict boxes they're assigned face violence for existing, too. Being a racial or ethnic minority in a racially homogeneous political system additionally gives someone a complicated relationship with their identity. It is dangerous to be an ethnic minority when the political system is reproduced on your exclusion and otherness. They, too, face violence for the circumstances of their birth. All of these things are true. None of them take away from the other.

Mizu is young-- in her early 20s-- and she has been hurt in deeply affecting ways. She's angry because she's been hurt in so many different ways. She's been hurt by gender violence, like "mama's" misogyny and the situation of her birth (her mother's rape and her near murder as a child), not to mention the violent and dehumanizing treatment of the women around her. She's been hurt by racial violence, like the way she has been tormented and abused since childhood for the way she looks (with people twice trying to kill her for this before adulthood). She's been hurt by state-sanctioned violence as she faces off against the opium, flesh, and black market traders working with white men in contravention of the Shogun's very policies, yet with sanction from the Shogun. She's been hurt by colonial violence, like the circumstances of her birth and the flood of human trafficking and weapons and drug trafficking in her country. She's had men break her bones and knock her down before, but only Fowler sexually differentiated her based on bone density and fracture.

Mizu also straddles the line between victim and murderer.

It seems like Mizu finding her 'feminine' and coming to terms with her 'female side' may be a part of her future character development. Women who feel caged by modern patriarchal systems and alienated from their bodies due to the patriarchy will see themselves in Mizu. They understand a desire for freedom that the narrow archetypes of the patriarchy do not afford them as women, and they see their anger and their desire for freedom in Mizu. This, especially considering that Mizu's development was driven by one of the creators' own experiences with womanhood:

No, Mizu does not pass as a man because she "hates women" or because she hates herself as a woman or being a woman. There are actual on-screen depictions of Mizu's misogyny, like her interactions with Akemi, and dressing like a man is not an instance of this. Mizu shows no discomfort with being a woman or being seen as a woman, especially when she intends to pass herself as and present as a woman. Mizu also shows the women in the series more grace and consideration than any man in the show, in whatever capacity available to her socially and politically, without revealing herself; many of the women have remarked that she is quite unlike other men, and she's okay with that, too.

When she lives on the farm with Mama and Mikio, Mizu shows no discomfort once she acclimates to the new life. But people take this as conclusive evidence of the "only time" she was happy. She was not. This life was also a dance, a performance. The story of her being both the ronin and the onryō revealed to the audience that this lifestyle also requires her to wear a mask and dance, just as the bride does. This mask is makeup, a wedding dress, and submission, and this performance is her gender as a wife. She still understands that she cannot fully be herself and only begins to express happiness and shed her reservation when she believes she is finally safe to be herself. Only to be betrayed. Being a man is her safety, and it is familiar. Being a boy protected her from the white men as a child, and it might protect her heart now.

Mizu shows no discomfort with being known as a woman, except when it potentially threatens her goals (see Ringo and the "peaches" scene). She also shows no discomfort with being known as, seen as, or referred to as a man. As an adult, she seems okay- even familiar- with people assuming she's a man and placing her into the role of a man. Yet, being born a girl who has boyhood violently imposed upon her (she did not choose what mama did to her) is also an incredibly important part of her lived experience. Being forced into boyhood, but growing into a man anyway became part of who she is. But, being a man isn’t just a part of who she became; it’s also expedient for her goals because men and women are ontologically different in her world and the system she lives under.

She's both because she's neither, because- ontologically- she fits nowhere. When other characters point out how "unlike" a man she is, she just shrugs it off, but not in a "well, yeah, because I'm NOT a man" sort of way, but in an "I'm unlike anyone, period," sort of way. She also does not seem offended by Madam Kaji saying that Mizu’s more man than any who have walked through her door.

(Mizu doesn’t even see herself as human, let alone a woman, as so defined by her society. And knowing that creators have stated her future arc is about coming into her “feminine era” or energy, I am actually scared that this show might fall into the trope of “domesticating”/“taming” the independent woman, complete with an allegory that her anger and lack of human-ness [in Mizu’s mind] is a result of a woman having too much “masculine energy” or being masculine in contravention of womanness.)

Some also seem to forget that once Mama and Mikio are dead, no one knows who she is or where she came from. They do not have her background, and they do not know about the bounty on her (who levied the bounty and why has not yet been explained). After their deaths, she could have gone free and started anew somehow. But in that moment, she chose to go back to life as a man and chose to pursue revenge for the circumstances of her birth. Going forward, this identity is no longer imposed upon her by Mama, or a result of erroneous conclusions from local kids and Master Eiji; it was because she wanted people to see her as a man and she was familiar with navigating her world, and thus her future, as a man. And it was because she was angry, too, and only men can act on their anger.

I do think it important to note that Mizu really began to allow herself to be vulnerable and open as a woman, until she was betrayed. The question I've been rattling around is: is this because she began to feel safe for the first time in her life, or is this part of how she sees women ontologically? Because she immediately returns to being a man and emotionally hard following her betrayal. But, she does seem willing to confide in Master Eiji, seek his advice, and convey her anxieties to him.

Being a man also confines Mizu to strict social boxes, and passing herself as a man is also dangerous.

Mizu doesn't suddenly get to do everything and anything she wants because she passes as a man. She has to consider her safety and the danger of her sex being "found out." She must also consider what will draw unnecessary attention to her and distract her from her goals. Many viewers, for example, were indignant that she did not offer to chaperone the mother and daughter and, instead, left them to the cold, only to drop some money at their feet later. The indignity fails consider that while she could bribe herself inside while passing as a man, she could not bribe in two strangers. Mizu is a strange man to that woman and does not necessarily have the social position to advocate for the mother and daughter. She also must consider that causing small social stirs would distract from her goals and draw certain attention to her. Mizu is also on a dangerous and violent quest.

Edo Japan was governed by strict class, age, and gender rules. Those rules applied to men as well as women. Mizu is still expected to act within these strict rules when she's a man. Being a man might allow her to pursue revenge, but she's still expected to put herself forward as a man, and that means following all the specific rules that apply to her class as a samurai, an artisan (or artist), and a man. That wide-brimmed hat, those orange-tinted glasses, and her laconic tendencies are also part of a performance. Being a boy is the first mask she wore and dance she performed, and she was originally (and tragically) forced into it.

Challenging the normative identities of her society does not guarantee her safety. She has limitations because of her "otherness," and the transgression of sex-prescribed roles has often landed people in hot water as opposed to saving them from boiling. Mizu is passing herself off as a man every day of her life at great risk to her. If her sex is "found out" on a larger scale, society won’t resort to or just start treating her as a woman. There are far worse fates than being perceived as a woman, and hers would not simply be a tsk-tsk, slap on the wrist; now you have to wear makeup. Let's not treat being a woman-- even with all the pressures, standards, fears, and risks that come with existing as a woman-- as the worst consequence for being ‘found out’ for transgressing normative identity.

The violence Mizu would face upon being "found out" won’t only be a consequence of being a "girl." Consider not just the fact she is female and “cross-dressing” (outside of theater), but also that she is a racial minority.

I also feel like many cis-het people either ignore or just cannot see the queerness in challenging gender roles (and thus also in stories that revolve around a subversion of sex-prescribed gender). They may not know how queerness-- or "otherness"-- leads to challenging strict social stratifications and binaries nor how challenging them is seen by the larger society as queer ("strange," "suspicious," "unconventional," even "dishonorable," and "fraudulent"), even when "queerness" (as in LGBTQ+) was not yet a concept as we understand it today.

Gender and sexuality- and the language we use to communicate who we are- varies greatly across time and culture. Edo Japan was governed by strict rules on what hairstyles, clothes, and weapons could be worn by which gender, age, and social group, and this was often enshrined in law. There were specific rules about who could have sex with whom and how. These values and rules were distinctly Japanese and would not incorporate Western influences until the late 1800s. Class was one of the most consequential features to define a person's fate in feudal Japan, and gender was quite stratified. This does not mean it's inappropriate for genderqueer people to see themselves in Mizu, nor does this mean that gender-variant identities didn’t exist in Edo Japan.

People in the past did not use the same language we do today to refer to themselves. Example: Alexander The Great did not call himself a "bisexual." We all understand this. However, there is a very weird trend of people using these differences in language and cultures across time to deny aspects of a historical person's life that societies today consider taboo, whether these aspects were considered taboo during that historical time period or not. Same example: people on Twitter complaining that Netflix "made" Alexander The Great "gay," and after people push back and point out that the man did, in fact, love and fuck men, hitting back with "homosexuality wasn't even a word back then" or "modern identity didn't exist back then." Sure, that word did not exist in 300s BCE Macedonia, but that doesn't mean the man didn't love men, nor does that mean that we can't recognize that he'd be considered "queer" by today's standards and language.

Genderqueer, as a word and as the concept is understood today, did not exist in feudal Japan, but the people did and feudal Japan had its own terms and concepts that referred to gender variance. But while the show takes place in Edo Japan, it is a modern adult animation series made by a French studio and two Americans (nationality). Mizu is additionally a fictional character, not a historical figure. She was not created in a vacuum. She was created in the 21st century and co-written by a man who got his start writing for Sex in the City and hails from a country that is in the midst of a giant moral panic about genderqueer/gender-variant people and gender non-conforming people.

This series was created by two Americans (nationality) for an American company. In some parts of that country, there are laws on the book strictly defining the bounds of men and women and dictating what clothes men and women could be prosecuted for wearing. Changes in language and identity over time mean that we can recognize that if Mizu lived in modern Texas, the law would consider her a drag performer, and modern political movements in the show creators' home country would include her under the queer umbrella.

So, yeah, there will also be genderqueer people who see themselves in Mizu, and there will be genderqueer fans who are firm about Mizu being queer to them and in their “headcanons.” The scene setting being Edo Japan, does not negate the modern ideas that influence the show. "Nonbinary didn't exist in Edo Japan" completely ignores that this show was created to explore the liminality of modern racial, gender, class, and normative identities. One of the creators was literally inspired by her own relationship with her biracial identity.

Ultimately, the fact Mizu, at this point in her journey, chooses to present and pass as a man and the fact her presented gender affects relationship dynamics with other characters (see: Taigen) gives this story a queer undertone. And this may have been largely unintentional: "She’s a girl, and he’s a guy, so, of course, they get together," < ignoring how said guy thinks she’s a guy and that she intentionally passes herself as a guy. Audiences ARE going to interpret this as queer because WE don’t live in Edo-era Japan. And I feel like people forget that Mizu can be a woman and the story can still have queer undertones to it at the same time.

[jordanstark007]

Chapter One

Alex Cabot x Amelia Chase

(Satire - but not really)

Right buckle up dickheads cause this is about to be a mind fuck of an experience. And it’s going to be great.

Trigger Warnings:

~ Foul Language (I’m British and my characters reflect that)

~ References of Sexual Assault

~ Justifying bad actions

~ Slight Stalker behaviours

~ I can fix her mentality

~ Sexual Content and references

~ Inappropriate use of a badge

~ Changing Canon majorly

Starts Season 3 ish

Part 1 / ?

Alex doesn’t remember at what point she started receiving the cards, nor the flowers.

There was always a note, small messages of congratulations but never anything that hinted toward the person culpable for their prescience.

It was a mystery, wrapped in an anomaly, wrapped in an enigma.

The first note had been a few days following the trial involving the female serial killer that had killed herself in the middle of the trial. ~ Not the outcome you wanted, good luck next time.

She’d originally thought maybe one of SVU was responsible but upon investigation she found that wasn’t the case, although the squad had been seriously suspicious of the note and the flowers attached.

The next had been a few weeks later after the murderous stepmother case, it had been a successful outcome, the stepmother had been charged with murder and statutory rape. The flowers were different this time Hydrangea’s that were a wonderful mix of pink, blue and purple.

~ You got her, congratulations councillor.

The handwriting was different this time cursive rather than block capitals as it previously had been. And the squad narrowed their eyes at the sight of the bouquet on her desk, but they let it slide, remaining vigilant of anyone paying a little too much attention to their favourite ADA.

The next time it was peony’s in a lovely shade of dusky pink, the note slightly more forthcoming.

~ Crazy bitch at that nursing home, a job well done councillor.

At that point the squad had begun their own investigation, the difficulty was a different person called each shop and it was a different florist on each of the three occasion’s. But somehow this person had access to Alex’s most notable cases with SVU, and none of them appreciated their undo and perhaps heinous obsession, with her.

Tulip’s after that,

~ Some crazy bastard killing his wife and an innocent woman because he couldn’t get his rocks off, one of many reasons I prefer women, congratulations Alexandra.

Carnations,

~ A pedophile ring, I can’t imagine the paperwork you’re drowning in, councillor. Well done Alexandra.

Hyacinths,

~ Some creep with an obsession with dolls, and obvious mommy issues, honestly murderers are getting boring and repetitive, surely they can come up with something more imaginative than mommy didn’t love me. Congratulations Alexandra

She’d snorted at that one, SVU however didn’t find it funny, that was the sixth note and bouquet in as many months and they were growing increasingly uncomfortable with the seriously large amount of attention Alex had garnered from this person.

Although they couldn’t prove it, it was one person, different handwriting, different florists and different customers meant that they had no proof that there was any one singular person responsible for her sudden influx of floral arrangements, but they were determined to try.

6 months of flowers and the squad had decided enough was enough, it took them another two months to find out who exactly was responsible, which lead to another two bouquets and notes that left the squad twisting.

When they did finally reveal the persons identity the file was slammed onto her desk with Liv and Elliot grinning like idiots as they delivered it.

To them it was as if they’d solved world hunger or achieved world peace.

Rationally Alex knew that Amelia was acting a stalker; irrationally she liked the fact that Amelia was obsessed with her.

She payed someone to sit in court and take notes regarding the various cases she tried of which were then mailed to her in prison.

Amelia would then make a call to another person on her payroll of whom she would relay the note she wanted on the card to say, who would then arrange for them to be delivered.

How Amelia Chase expected to keep it up until she got out Alex had no idea, until she looked at her financials. Billions, Amelia Chase wasn’t just rich, she was a billionaire and the monthly flower deliveries weren’t even going to put a dent in her very comfortable lifestyle and account balances.

It was then she decided she needed to visit her in prison. She needed to know why Amelia had taken such an interest in her.

Unsurprisingly she found she was already on Amelia’s visitation list, in fact she was one of four people on the list. One name in particular stuck out Cassandra Novak, Casey. Her recently assigned second chair, but that was a conversation for another time.

When she saw Amelia, the woman was almost entirely unchanged, hair was still neatly pulled back into a ponytail, porcelain skin unblemished. Other than the orange jumpsuit no one would have suspected she was an inmate.

“I assume you’ve been getting the flowers?” Alex nodded a piercing gaze directed towards the woman,

“I did I’ll admit you had SVU in a tailspin for a few months.” Amelia nodded,

“But not you?” Alex shook her head,

“No, they were nice flowers.” A deep chuckle echoed from the convict,

“I’d hope so I left very thorough instructions that they were to be expensive, you seemed like a woman with expensive taste.” Alex didn’t dignify the statement with a response,

“Why me? There’s hundreds of other lawyers in New York.” Amelia shrugged,

“They didn’t convict me, you did, besides you intrigue me Alexandra.” Alex’s knees would have buckled if she wasn’t sat, the husky voice paired with her salty tone, had a heat creeping up her neck.

“Alright, my turn Casey Novak.” Alex didn’t even need to finish her question before Amelia nodded,

“She’s my twin sister, I’m older by ten minutes.” Alex hummed in acknowledgment,

“She’s only visited you twice, why?” Amelia scowled,

“First time was just after my conviction and the last time was to tell me she’d been transferred from white collar to SVU, and that she knew I’d been bending the truth of my conviction. She told me that she was glad, that she was no longer a Chase, and she didn’t want to see again until I atoned and attempted to apologise for what I did, in any capacity that the victim was willing to indulge.”

“And did you? Atone for what you did?” Amelia chuckled,

“I made a call, got him a part in a film being produced my Steven Spielberg, and I sent the animal shelter a nice million. And reluctantly I sent a letter apologising, he got it, but I don’t know what he did with it, that’s up to him. As for the atonement, I’m a recovered catholic so God for all intensive purposes can suck it.” Alex reluctantly giggled lightly at her last comment,

“Casey’s catholic, God I never would have placed that.” Amelia merely shrugged,

“She’s a recovering catholic, she started getting over the trauma of cult life when she met her wife, Enzo Novak and according to our parents that’s when she turned her back on God, well that’s what our mother says at least, our father simply doesn’t talk about it.” Alex simply stared at the inmate her husky voice alluring as she listened to Amelia.

“You didn’t answer my question about the flowers.” Amelia cocked a brow,

“Do you want me to stop.” And God did Alex nearly buckle, but she made no movement other than standing to go to the cell door, Amelia watched with a tantalising smirk,

“I’ll send roses next time.”

[quads4days]

Ethan's Christmas Wish

Merry Christmas, Everyone! May your holidays be filling as you enjoy this Christmas Tale! 🎄

Chapter 1: The Unlikely Santa

In the quaint town of Pine Ridge, nestled between snow-capped mountains and sprawling evergreen forests, the local mall buzzed with the onset of the festive season. Amidst the flurry of decorations and holiday cheer, an unlikely figure stood out.

Ethan Turner, a junior at the state university, was the embodiment of a collegiate athlete. His towering frame, a solid six feet two inches, was chiselled to perfection, a result of countless hours at the gym and on the football field. Broad shoulders tapered into a sculpted torso, each muscle defined as if carved from marble. His arms, the pride of his physique, were the stuff of legends on campus – powerful and imposing. With jet-black hair cropped close to his head and piercing blue eyes that contrasted starkly with his tanned skin, Ethan was often the centre of attention, albeit reluctantly. He had taken on the job of playing Santa at the mall for the holiday season, a decision driven more by financial need than desire. The idea of concealing his athletic form under the bulky, red velvet suit of Santa Claus seemed almost comical. He couldn’t be more different from the traditional, jolly old man in red. His friends had laughed when he told them, unable to picture the buff jock as the iconic bringer of Christmas joy.

As he stood in the staff room, staring at the Santa suit hanging on the door, a sense of irony washed over him. The suit, with its ample padding and fake white beard, was a far cry from his usual attire of fitted tees and athletic shorts. Ethan ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had when contemplating the absurdity of life’s twists.

Taking a deep breath, he began to don the costume. The fabric enveloped his muscular frame, hiding the physique he worked so hard to maintain. As he looked in the mirror, he barely recognised himself. Gone was the intimidating athlete, replaced by a cheerful, round-bellied Santa.  Little did he know, this role would challenge him in ways he never expected, pushing the boundaries of his identity and forcing him to confront aspects of himself he never knew existed. As he adjusted the beard on his chiselled jaw, Ethan Turner, the campus Adonis, stepped out to embrace his role as Santa, unwittingly stepping into a journey of transformation that would redefine his very being.

Chapter 2: The Feast and Reflection

The final echoes of holiday cheer faded as Ethan concluded his shift at the Pine Ridge Mall. He trudged towards the staff room, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. The Santa suit, a farce of merriment, felt more like a shackle by the end of his gruelling 12-hour shift. Inside the dimly lit staff room, Ethan began the process of shedding his Santa persona. The suit, which had engulfed his athletic frame, fell away piece by piece, revealing the stark contrast of his true self. As the layers peeled off, Ethan stood in front of the full-length mirror, pausing to take in his reflection.

His body, a sculpture of discipline and effort, was toned to near perfection. Broad shoulders rolled into well-defined pecs and a flat, muscular abdomen. His biceps, sculpted and prominent, flexed unintentionally as he ran a hand through his hair. In the mirror, Ethan saw not Santa but a young man in his prime, a stark juxtaposition to the character he played in the festively decorated halls of the mall. The rumble of his stomach broke his contemplative reverie. Realising he had hardly eaten all day, Ethan made his way to the food court, now quiet and nearly empty as the mall neared closing time. The aroma of various cuisines intermingled in the air, tempting his heightened hunger. He ordered copiously - a burger here, a slice of pizza there, followed by a serving of Chinese noodles.

Sitting alone at a table, Ethan devoured the feast before him. Each bite was a blend of flavour and relief, a stark contrast to the forced joviality of his Santa role. The food court, with its lingering festive decorations, was both a dining hall and a stage for his solitary banquet. After his meal, feeling sated yet physically drained, Ethan returned home. The quiet of his apartment was a welcome change from the constant din of the mall. As a treat to himself, he indulged in a few Christmas cookies, the sweet richness a perfect end to the day. The cookies, homemade and delicious, were a small yet significant rebellion against the strict diet of his athlete's regimen. Lying in bed, the events of the day replayed in his mind - the smiles of children, the weight of the suit, his reflection in the mirror, and the surprising satisfaction of his indulgent dinner. Drifting off to sleep, Ethan pleasured himself; his muscles tensed—he managed to climax, finding himself in a liminal space, caught between the persona of Santa and the reality of his own existence, ready to face another day in the red suit.

Chapter 3: Dreams of a Festive Transformation

As the mantle of sleep enveloped Ethan, his mind wandered into the realm of dreams. A Christmas dreamscape unfolded before him, more vivid and enchanting than any reality he'd known. He found himself in an ethereal workshop, bathed in a warm, golden glow that seemed to emanate from the very walls. The workshop was bustling with activity but not with the usual toy-making frenzy one might expect. Instead, it was filled with elves, each more striking than the last, their shirtless forms adorned with sparkling body glitter that caught the light with every graceful movement. They were the epitome of festive charm and allure, moving with a fluidity that was almost hypnotic.

Among them, an elf named Chris stood out. A playful glint in his eye accentuated his chiselled features, and his well-defined abs shimmered under the workshop’s golden light. He approached Ethan with a confident stride, his presence commanding yet warm.

"You're quite the unit, Ethan," Chris said, his voice rich and melodic. "It's our honour to assist you in becoming the biggest and best Santa Claus, full of Christmas cheer." Ethan, taken aback by the dream’s vividness, looked down at himself. He was still clad in the red suit, but it felt different in this dreamscape – less like a costume and more a part of his identity. The fabric seemed to hug his form, accentuating a physique that felt both familiar and strangely altered.

The elves moved around him in a dance of festive preparation, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of holiday spirit. Ethan was drawn into their rhythm, feeling an inexplicable connection to their mission. Chris led him through the workshop, showing him the magic of Christmas. They passed rows of candy canes, mountains of glittering ornaments, and beautifully wrapped gifts. With each step, Ethan felt a growing sense of belonging, as if he were meant to be part of this mystical world. Inevitably, Chris and Ethan found themselves alone; it was only a matter of time before Ethan’s muscular arms were embracing Chris as the dream turned passionate. Just as Ethan managed to unbuckle Chris’ elf attire,  the dream began to fade, Chris's voice echoed, "Embrace your new role, Ethan. Let the spirit of Christmas guide you, I’ll be in touch soon.”

Ethan awoke to the dim light of dawn, the remnants of the dream lingering in his mind. The vivid images of the workshop, the glittering elves, and his transformed reflection stayed with him as he lay naked in bed, pondering the surreal experience and what it might signify for his journey ahead.

Chapter 4: Embracing Christmas

The chill of the winter evening nipped at Ethan's skin as he collapsed into bed, utterly spent from another day of donning the Santa suit. The fabric had chafed against his skin, a constant reminder of the facade he maintained. In the solitude of his room, he shed his clothes, seeking the comfort of his bed in nothing but his skin, a stark contrast to the layers he bore all day. As sleep claimed him, he was once again transported to the Christmas wonderland of his dreams. The world was a tapestry of twinkling lights, shimmering snow, and an air of enchantment that could only belong to a place beyond reality.

Chris, the elf who had become a familiar presence in these dreams, greeted Ethan with a warm, inviting smile. His shirtless form seemed to radiate a festive glow, his muscles glistening under the soft, ethereal light of the wonderland. In his hand, he held a cookie, intricately decorated and emitting a mouth-watering aroma.

"Welcome back, Ethan," Chris's voice was as comforting as a crackling fireplace. "I thought you might enjoy this."

Ethan accepted the cookie, the rich taste exploding on his tongue as he took a bite. It was like tasting Christmas itself – a blend of spices, sweetness, and warmth. As they strolled through the wonderland, Chris's question hung in the air like a delicate snowflake. "Are you ready to embrace being Santa, Ethan?"

Ethan, with a mouthful of cookie, looked perplexed. Chris," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "why am I here? Why do you keep asking me to grow into Santa?"

Chris looked into Ethan's eyes, his own reflecting a depth of ancient wisdom. "Ethan," he said, his voice soft yet resonant, "Santa Claus is more than a person; he's a spirit, an embodiment of Christmas joy and generosity. But he can't carry this essence alone. Each year, we choose someone to share in this spirit, to help spread the joy and magic of Christmas. This year, I chose you., Ethan, personally chosen to be part of this legacy."

Ethan absorbed the words, a myriad of emotions swirling within him. "But why me?" he asked, a mix of honour and disbelief colouring his tone.

"You have a heart that resonates with the true spirit of Christmas," Chris explained. "Your transformation isn't just physical. You're becoming a vessel of the Christmas spirit, a partner to Santa in bringing joy to the world."

Ethan paused, the weight of the revelation settling upon him. He had started this journey reluctantly, seeing it as a role to be played. However, he was part of a timeless tradition, a continuum of joy and giving that stretched far beyond himself. Ethan's brow furrowed in confusion. 

"And what's in it for me?" he asked half-jokingly.

Chris's smile broadened. "After Christmas, you can have us change you into the physique of your dreams."

Ethan chuckled, playing along, half expecting to wake from this vivid dream. "Fine, then I want quads the size of a grown man's torso, thick muscular quads that turn heads.”

With a flick of Chris' fingers and a smirk on his face, Ethan felt a sudden, overwhelming sensation. His quads began to swell, the muscles expanding with a supernatural rapidity. They grew more massive, so large that his thighs were forced apart, straining under their newfound bulk. Ethan stumbled, unprepared for the shift in his balance. He fell, a mix of shock and awe on his face, as he looked at his disproportionately muscular legs that continued to thicken. He tried to step forward, and his massive quads made him fall backwards. Chris hurried to his side, helping him to his feet. "You see, Ethan, dreams do come true here."

Ethan, still reeling from the transformation, nodded warily. “Alright, I'm in," he agreed, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.  Chris's smile was triumphant. He placed a hand on Ethan’s stomach, and a tingle coursed through Ethan’s abs, and with that, Ethan was jolted awake. He lay in his bed, his heart pounding, the surreal dream still vivid in his mind. He touched his thighs, half-expecting to feel the exaggerated muscles from his dream. But they were the same as they had always been, strong yet human. The dream left Ethan with a sense of foreboding and excitement. As he lay there, contemplating the dream's meaning, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this Christmas was going to be unlike any other.

Chapter 5: A Magical Transformation

As the days passed, Ethan's life settled into a peculiar rhythm. The role of Santa Claus at the mall was exhausting, yet he couldn't deny the sense of fulfilment it brought him. The smiles of children, the festive atmosphere it all added a warmth to his life that he hadn't expected. However, with this new role came an insatiable hunger, one that seemed to grow with each passing day. Ethan found himself gravitating towards the food court during every break, devouring meal after meal as if he could never be sated. Pizza, burgers, fries – no amount of food seemed enough. By the end of the third day, his concern grew; this hunger was unlike anything he had experienced before. That night, as he collapsed into bed, a pizza box still open beside him, he drifted into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he found himself back in the enchanting Christmas wonderland, a realm that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Chris, the enigmatic elf from his previous dreams, was there to greet him. "Welcome back, Ethan," Chris said, his voice echoing with a warmth that filled the air. He approached Ethan and gently touched his stomach. "I see your hunger is growing. That's good. You're embracing your potential." Ethan, caught in the surreal beauty of the dream, nodded. "It's like I can't stop eating," he admitted, a mix of wonder and concern in his voice. Chris smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Christmas is only twenty days away. I want to help you grow into your role, to become the Santa you're destined to be."

Ethan felt a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. "How?" he asked. In response, Chris waved his hand, and a lavish feast appeared before them. Tables groaned under the weight of festive dishes, each more tantalising than the last. "Eat, Ethan. Let the magic of Christmas fill you." Ethan began to eat, and to his astonishment, he found that he could not get full. Plate after plate, the food seemed to vanish, and with each bite, he felt his body responding. He looked down in shock as his midsection began to round out, softening and expanding. Even more shocking was the raging hard-on Ethan found himself harbouring. Chris continued to encourage him, gently pushing more delicacies his way. Ethan, caught in the whirlwind of the magical feast, surrendered to the experience. As the dream continued, Ethan's transformation became more pronounced. His once athletic body softened, rounding out with the magic of the feast. As Chris's hand gently brushed against Ethan’s expanding midsection, the juxtaposition was clear. Where Chris remained toned and firm and defined, Ethan was becoming softer, rounder. It was a physical manifestation of two worlds colliding. 

Ethan lay back, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the feast he had consumed. His body, especially his midsection, had transformed significantly. What was once a toned and athletic stomach had now become a soft, bloated spare tire, rising and falling with each of his laboured breaths. The sensation was a mix of discomfort and an odd sense of satisfaction, marking the journey he had embarked upon. Sensing Ethan's discomfort, Chris placed his hands gently on Ethan's expanded stomach. His touch was soothing, offering a comforting pressure that helped alleviate the tightness. At this moment, with Chris's caring gestures, the sharp contrast between Ethan's burgeoning form and Chris's lithe figure became a source of reassurance. Chris’ presence and the gentle rhythm of his hands on Ethan's belly brought a sense of calm, easing the physical strain of Ethan's indulgence.

Chapter 6: The Transformation

In the cool, pre-dawn light of Pine Ridge, Ethan awoke with the lingering images of his dream still vivid in his mind. He found himself facing a new reality. As he tried to rise from bed, he felt a weight he hadn't before. His midsection, now noticeably softer, pushed him back. Lying there, Ethan was filled with a sense of wonder and curiosity. His hard-on remained, and as Ethan pleasured himself, his new gut wobbled, and he blew a load harder than he ever had before.

Arriving at the mall, Ethan entered the staff room to don the familiar red suit of Santa Claus. However, today was different. As he slipped into the costume, he realised that the usual padding wasn't necessary. The suit, which had once hung loose on his athletic frame, now hugged his gut in a way it never had before. Standing before the mirror, Ethan took a moment to absorb his reflection. His physique, once the epitome of fitness, had undergone an undeniable transformation. His abdomen, previously adorned with chiselled abs, now sported a noticeable paunch. He grabbed at his newfound softness, his fingers sinking into the flesh. It was a surreal experience, feeling the weight and give of his midsection, a stark contrast to the hard muscle that used to be.

His thighs, once powerful and lean, had thickened, rubbing together as he moved. Even his chest, which had always been firm and sculpted, now had a subtle softness to it, the contours less defined. Ethan shook his head in disbelief, trying to reconcile this reflection with the image of himself that he had always known. Throughout his shift, Ethan's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He pushed himself to interact with the children and their families, the role of Santa now feeling more real than ever. But underneath the jovial exterior, Ethan was preoccupied with his physical changes and the dream that seemed to be becoming a reality.

Determined to embrace this transformation and make Chris proud, Ethan found himself visiting the food court during every break. He devoured meal after meal, his appetite seemingly insatiable. With each bite, he could almost hear Chris’s encouraging words, urging him to let go and embrace his new role. As the day drew to a close, Ethan felt both exhaustion and a strange sense of fulfilment. The mirror in the staff room now reflected a different man – one who was slowly but surely stepping into a new identity, one bite at a time. The journey was far from over, but Ethan was committed to seeing where this path would lead, driven by the mysterious promise of his dreams and the transformation they foretold.

Chapter 7: Embracing the Transformation

Ethan found himself once again enveloped in the dreamlike world that had become his nightly escape. The surroundings were draped in the soft, ethereal glow of Christmas magic, with snow gently falling outside the frosted windows of a quaint, cozy cabin. Inside, the warmth of the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a comforting light over Ethan and Chris. Chris, with his ever-present elfin grace, listened intently as Ethan recounted his day's work as Santa, his voice tinged with both fatigue and a growing sense of wonder. Ethan lay reclined, his head resting comfortably in Chris's lap, feeling a sense of peace he hadn't known before. Chris' hand, delicate yet assured, held a freshly baked cookie, bringing it to Ethan's lips.  As Ethan savoured the cookie, Chris's other hand gently rubbed his fattened stomach, which had grown noticeably rounder over the past few days. The sensation was new and strange to Ethan, yet there was a certain comfort in the softness that had begun to envelop his once rigidly toned frame.

In a moment of surprising boldness, Ethan looked up at Chris, his eyes reflecting the fire's gentle flicker. "I want to embrace this change," he said, his voice low but resolute. "Help me grow even larger." Chris's eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and something more profound. "As you wish, Ethan," he replied, his voice echoing the magic of the winter wonderland that surrounded them. Chris smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "it's time for you to try Santa's special eggnog." With a flourish, Chris produced a large, ornate jug filled with a creamy, rich liquid that seemed to shimmer with a light of its own. Ethan, already feeling the weight of his indulgence, hesitated for a moment. But the allure of the magical world he was becoming a part of was too strong to resist. As Ethan drank the eggnog, he felt a warm sensation spreading through him. It was as though each sip was filling him with the essence of Christmas itself. The thick, sweet liquid coated his throat, and with each gulp, he could feel his body responding. It was as if he was inflating, his frame expanding softly but persistently under the fabric of his dream-self's clothes.

With each sip, Ethan felt a gentle expansion, starting from his core and radiating outward. It was as if the very essence of the holiday season was filling him, softening his once rigid and athletic build into something more akin to the legendary figure of Santa Claus himself. His abdomen, previously toned and firm, began to round and soften, gradually losing the definition of muscle in a slow, mesmerising change. This transformation was not abrupt but gradual, like a slow and steady filling that was both visible and palpable. Ethan's arms and legs, once the epitome of strength and discipline, began to take on a fuller, softer appearance. The fabric of his dream-self's clothes stretched a little more with each passing moment, accommodating his changing form. The most notable change was in his chest and midsection. His pecs, previously sculpted and prominent, were now becoming enveloped in a layer of softness. As Ethan attempted to rise, shifting onto his hands and knees, he found himself pausing to gather his bearings amidst the bewildering transformation he was experiencing. The weight and feel of his body were so different now, profoundly unfamiliar. As he steadied himself, preparing to stand, he felt a distinct sensation – his stomach, rounder and softer than it had ever been, made contact with the ground; a golden glow seemed to intensify around him, casting a radiant aura upon his now oversized form. 

Chris, with an enigmatic smile, beckoned other elves to join them, each bearing a glistening pitcher of creamy eggnog. The liquid flowed in a continuous stream, cascading into a colossal goblet before pouring into Ethan's eagerly awaiting lips. Hours passed, yet time in this dreamscape felt elastic, stretching on as Ethan continued to imbibe the rich, frothy concoction. With each gulp, he could feel his body growing heavier, his belly expanding like a living, breathing balloon. The sensation was overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and discomfort, as the eggnog seemed to infuse him with the essence of Christmas itself. Chris observed with fascination as Ethan's transformation unfolded before his eyes. His once-toned body had become an undulating sea of flesh, rippling with each gulp. The contours of muscle gave way to soft, pliable curves that swelled relentlessly. His limbs, once lithe and agile, were now ponderous and laden with the weight of indulgence. Chris couldn't help but notice how Ethan's skin, stretched taut over his expanding girth, took on a luminous quality as if it held the very radiance of the holiday season. Ethan's moans of pleasure mingled with the chorus of the workshop, where the other elves continued their joyful preparations. The goblet's contents seemed endless, and as the scale approached a staggering 300 kilograms, Ethan's laughter filled the air, a deep and hearty sound that resonated with the essence of Santa Claus himself.

Ethan's transformation was nothing short of extraordinary. The relentless flow of eggnog continued to feed his insatiable appetite for Christmas spirit, and his body responded in kind. His gut surged forward like an unstoppable force, expanding with a voracious appetite of its own. It hung heavily between his legs, creating a pendulous mass that now eclipsed even his knees. His once-defined pecs had long lost their athletic form, now transformed into enormous, fat-laden breasts that jiggled with every movement. They pressed against his burgeoning belly, a cascade of soft, supple flesh that defied gravity. The voluptuous curves of a Santa-in-training now supplanted the power and strength that had once defined his physique. Ethan's limbs, once agile and muscular, had become unwieldy masses of plumpness. His arms, which had once lifted weights and carried him through athletic feats, were now flabby appendages that swayed with each ponderous step. His thighs, once powerful pillars of strength, had ballooned into colossal columns of adipose, encasing his lower body in layers of luscious fat. The transformation was relentless, and Ethan's very identity seemed to blur with each passing moment. The former athlete was now becoming a living embodiment of indulgence, a blob of holiday merriment. His laughter, once vibrant and athletic, now had a deeper, more resonant quality, echoing the spirit of Santa Claus himself.

As Ethan's body continued to swell, the once-joyful atmosphere in the workshop began to take on an air of urgency. The other elves, their faces flushed with excitement, pushed him harder to drink more eggnog. What had started as an exhilarating journey into holiday indulgence now began to fill Ethan with apprehension. He could feel his mobility diminishing as the layers of fat encased him, rendering his once-athletic physique immobile and cumbersome. Just when Ethan thought he couldn't take another sip, Chris stepped forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. With a flick of his wrist and a whispered incantation, Chris's magic surged through the workshop. Ethan's eyes widened in realisation as he felt the transformation intensify. His body expanded at an alarming rate, his flesh seemingly inflating with each passing moment. Ethan's joy quickly turned to apprehension as his body swelled uncontrollably, he was growing large, taller even as his body accommodated the influx of fat. Encasing him like a living cocoon, growing fatter and fatter with each heartbeat, Ethan was positively giant.  Chris watched with a knowing smile as Ethan's form expanded, his eyes filled with a mix of pleasure and desire. The once-svelte elf had orchestrated this dramatic change, and he reveled in the sight of Ethan becoming a living embodiment of holiday indulgence. With each passing moment, Ethan grew larger and rounder, his body encased in layers of plush, creamy fat. 

Chris, driven by desire and curiosity, climbed up the treacherous terrain of Ethan's expanding body. The ocean of fat seemed endless, and every step was a thrilling challenge. His fingers sank into the soft, yielding flesh as he ascended, and he couldn't help but revel in the intoxicating sensations. Finally, Chris reached Ethan's grotesquely swollen breasts, their immense size a testament to the extent of his transformation. Chris settled there, gazing down at the mesmerising scene below. With a playful smirk, he produced a plate of cookies, each bite laden with dark magic that fuelled Ethan's insatiable appetite. Ethan, moaning in a mix of pleasure and excitement, devoured the cookies with a ravenous hunger that only grew with each bite. With every morsel, his body expanded further, his skin stretching and straining to accommodate the rapid growth. The sensation was a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation, and both Ethan and Chris were eager to see just how far this transformation could go. 

Chapter 8: Ethan’s Christmas Wish

As the clock struck midnight, the workshop fell into an eerie silence, signalling the arrival of Christmas Eve. All the bustling elves froze in their tracks, their work suddenly halted. It was a moment of anticipation, a pause in the enchantment that had enveloped the workshop. Ethan, now an inconceivable mass of gluttony, lay somewhere within the colossal ball of lard that Chris perched upon. He was indistinguishable from the ethereal mound, a stark contrast to the fit man he had once been. The transformation had reached its zenith, and he was now a living monument to indulgence. The elves, lined up in a solemn row, seemed to shimmer with a mystical energy. Their eyes sparkled with anticipation, and a sense of wonder filled the air. It was as if the very essence of Christmas magic had descended upon the workshop.

With the workshop bustling and the enchantment of Christmas Eve filling the air, Chris turned to Ethan, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "It's time, Ethan," he said, his voice a melodic whisper. "Make your wish, and let the magic of Christmas do the rest." Ethan, now an inconceivable mass of gluttony, found his voice amidst the sea of lard that enveloped him. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and made his wish. Ethan, lost in the sea of his own excess, suddenly felt a surge of ecstasy wash over him. He sensed himself floating downward, his essence flowing like a river into the waiting elves below. It was a sensation beyond words, a union with the very spirit of Christmas itself. As he wished, the elves around them began to change. Once shirtless Adonis-like figures, their bodies rippling with muscular definition, they now underwent a remarkable transformation as they absorbed Ethan’s Christmas Spirit. Their skin took on a soft, velvety quality, and their chiselled physiques gave way to plump, rounded forms. The transformation was a mesmerising dance of indulgence as each elf swelled with newfound curves and delightful softness. The elves' bodies grew fatter and fatter, their once-athletic builds now obscured beneath layers of lush, creamy fat. They seemed to revel in their newfound indulgence, their eyes sparkling with delight as they became living embodiments of holiday cheer. As the elves absorbed the essence of Ethan's wish, he felt himself growing smaller, the excess fat that had encased him flowing outward and into the waiting elves. He watched in amazement as they absorbed his transformation, their bodies expanding even further as they embraced the joy of holiday excess.

Chris's skin took on a glossy sheen as it stretched to accommodate his expanding girth. His chest, once flat and toned, blossomed into a pair of plump, soft mounds that strained against the fabric of his shirt. The shirt itself groaned under the strain, buttons threatening to pop as they struggled to contain the burgeoning expanse of his belly. His arms, which had once possessed a graceful, athletic elegance, became thick, flabby appendages laden with layers of luxurious fat. They swayed with every movement, a testament to the rapid transformation overtaking him. Chris's legs, once lean and agile, now thickened with luscious padding, and his thighs brushed against each other as he shifted his weight. His once-narrow waist expanded into a generous, round midsection, a sphere of holiday excess that defied imagination. His face, though still recognisable, had taken on a rosy flush, and his cheeks swelled with the delightful plumpness of holiday cheer. Even his ears seemed to have grown rounder, nestled beneath a layer of soft, inviting flesh. As the transformation continued, Chris seemed to revel in his newfound form, his eyes twinkling with the delight of holiday indulgence. He laughed heartily, a deep and joyous sound that resonated with the spirit of Christmas.

Ethan marvelled at the enchanting sight before him. Chris, once a svelte and confident elf, had become a living embodiment of holiday excess, his frame inflating with the very essence of the season. The workshop shimmered with the magic of their shared transformation, and as the clock ticked closer to the midnight hour, they prepared for the festivities that awaited on this most magical of Christmas Eve. Ethan found himself lying on his back in the workshop, exhausted from the transformation. A fattened Chris came into his vision; he leant down and kissed Ethan on the lips/

“Thank you.” He said, “You’ve given us more cheer than we could have wished for; this Christmas is going to be a magical one.” Ethan kissed him back before his eyes opened, and his Christmas dream ended.

Chapter 9: Christmas Morning

Christmas morning had arrived, and as Ethan stirred from his slumber, he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and anticipation. The vivid memories of the enchanting dream and the remarkable transformation lingered in his mind. He sat up in bed, and as he looked down at himself, his jaw dropped in awe.

His once-bloated, rotund form had been replaced by a physique that defied imagination. He was now a hulking titan, his muscles sculpted and defined in a way that rivalled the mightiest of warriors. Each bulging muscle seemed carved from granite, and his sheer size was awe-inspiring.

Ethan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hopped up, unbalanced by the sheer bulk of his newfound titan muscles. As he made his way to the kitchen, he quickly realised that his expanded frame posed unexpected challenges. When he reached the bedroom door, he found himself wedged in, his massive shoulders and chest too wide to pass through. With a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, Ethan ducked under the doorway, the muscles of his back and legs rippling with power as he maneuvered through the narrow space. He finally emerged into the kitchen, where he spotted a plate of cookies on the table.

Ethan couldn't help but grin as he approached. He picked up a note, and there, in elegant handwriting, were the words: "See you again next year. Chris."

A smile spread across Ethan's face as he realised that the enchanting adventure he had embarked upon had indeed not only been a dream. It had been a journey of holiday magic, indulgence, and transformation, and he knew that he would carry the spirit of Christmas with him throughout the year waiting until next Christmas where he hoped he’d be asked to don his Santa suit again.