#fantasy heroes where all your paintings come true

[rosecolouredmind]

Hidden Charm

Slytherin!Jungkook x Slytherin!Reader

slight!Jaehyun x Reader

-🐍🐍🐍-

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook is a notorious name in the halls of Hogwarts. Pureblooded, talented, and somewhat cold, he is a textbook definition of everything it means to be Slytherin. At least, the Slytherin stereotype. The unfazed, unapproachable, and unobtainable aura the male exudes was the holy trinity that attracted the eyes of many, enemies and admirers alike. When your every move and interaction is judged and scrutinized, it's not exactly hard to attempt to cut off the root of the problem. And as far as Jeon Jungkook is concerned, the entirety of humanity is nothing more than a mere nuisance. His greatest wish is to disappear.

You were sorted into Slytherin house before the hat had even touched your head. A feat, the headmaster claimed, only ever once repeated by the pale-haired heir of one of the most infamous, long-storied Pureblood wizarding families in history. Half-blooded and fairly quiet, it didn’t take long for the initial novel interest in you to die down and be replaced with scorn instead. You found yourself largely ignored by your housemates; never bullied, but not quite seen as belonging. You had always preferred your own thoughts and logic to the whimsies of others, but the more-than-passing notion that you had made no meaningful connections throughout your life began to plague your heart more and more. In this life, you wanted nothing more than to be seen.

So when two people, with opposite lifestyles and goals but exceedingly firm beliefs cross paths, why, instead of setting off nasty explosions, were sparks flying magnificently instead?

-🐍-

Honestly, you were very surprised when the sorting hat called out your house with no hesitation.

If you’d asked your father, he’d no doubt say he bled red and gold without a second thought. As a way of bonding with you, he’d share stories of the theatrics and misadventures he and his friends had gotten up to during his time wandering the halls of Hogwarts. He spoke of Quidditch, of friendly ghosts, of beautiful paintings who told them their stories. He spoke of the bravery of red, the goodness of yellow, and the genius of blue.

He spoke with such pride when he looked into your mother’s eyes and swore up and down she’d have been the first to be sorted into any of the three.

He spoke the romance of his youth into a fantasy in your mind, where the courageous were the most dashing heroes to be gracing these four walls. But when he spoke, well…He never mentioned green at all.

You didn’t understand.

Slytherin? Was there something wrong with you?

It’s one thing to be sorted into Slytherin, but another thing to lean so overwhelmingly in that direction that it made you question your own character. You knew stereotypes were just that -- stereotypes, but Slytherins weren’t exactly known for exuding kindness and civility, and you don’t consider yourself a cruel girl. But the sorting hat has proven on several occasions that it absolutely abhors being doubted, so, amongst the stares and whispers, you sucked it up and found your place amongst the snakes you presumed you’d have been warned about had your father even bothered to mention them. And unfortunately, it didn’t take very long for your dreaded prediction to come true.

You were a pariah in your own House.

Not one to bully, you never really participated in the House rivalry Slytherin had going on with the rest of Hogwarts. Rather, you promptly acknowledged that your housemates were pretty similar to you; very prideful and self-assured, so opposing viewpoints weren’t looked upon favorably. You understood them, because they reminded you of yourself. As a matter of fact, the only difference was that your mother had always taught you to learn from those you didn’t agree with so that you could better understand them, though it didn’t mean you had to agree. This common sentiment so often cited in the muggle world was lost on the pureblooded heirs of Slytherin, it seemed. And this glaring at-odds way of approaching dissidents compared to your housemates came from the most muggle thing about you -- your mother.

As a muggle thrust into the wizarding world rather unceremoniously, your mother never could reconcile the sheer divisiveness of the Wizarding Community compared to the Muggle World, where everyone was essentially forced to live amongst and tolerate those with differing views. She quickly learned that the wizarding world was what the muggle world could become if expressing such violent, intolerant sentiments were expressly allowed - thus she promptly raised you as a muggle until the age of 12.

Your father had always been in and out of your life before then, your parents’ relationship in a weird state of limbo that you were entirely sure was your mother’s paranoid doing.

But you -- you were daring, and bold, and opinionated in thought -- a carbon copy of your father. His likeness, his passion, his honesty -- you received it all from him, and it scared her. She was afraid his mere magical existence would influence you, even though your very existence had proven how much hers had influenced him. The countless letters he’d written begging for a chance to live as a family culminated in him willing to give up the entirety of the wizarding world for you two -- the love story of the century, restricted to being known in full only to a select few…Or so you thought.

“Wasn’t her father besodden with a muggle?”

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“A blood traitor’s half-blood spawn in the (L/N) family -- how preposterous!”

Such words had become a common occurrence, and after a while you became numb to the ridicule. You refused to grovel to the ignorant, of course.

But your fantasy Hogwarts life had been ruined, and you spent your days alone with only your own mind for company.

You expected nothing different for your sixth year.

Up to this point, you couldn’t help but wish more and more for a bit of the so-called friendship everyone else took for granted in their day-to-day lives.

You wanted to share your feelings, you wanted to laugh with someone, you wanted a shoulder to cry on. You wanted to become something more than a flower on the wall one would pick at to feel more beautiful, more than a forever-enclosed bud amongst blossoms.

But you were never given that chance, because as strong as your desires were, your pride, values and stubbornness that you got from your father held strong… and reflected unapologetically in just how you were raised by your mother.

And so another year began, bound to be the same.

-🐍-

As an avid reader, you’d like to confidently say that the library was your safe space. All the interesting knowledge you could find was readily available, and the temptation of forbidden texts would always lurk in your heart as well. But surprisingly, you soon came to loathe how populated it could be, and instead found yourself searching for quieter grounds.

Following countless times of getting lost in Hogwarts’ entrapping corridors, you’d promptly made up your mind that it’d be nothing short of justified to sue the historic school for child endangerment. Blood pressure high and mood now sour, you decided to make your way to the school grounds instead.

Angrily stomping along, you weren’t exactly paying attention to your surroundings. So when a whip-like branch suddenly smacked you dead in the face, the sheer volume of the screech that left your lips was enough to startle your attacker as well, the limb that had wrapped itself around your waist rapidly loosening.

Gaining your bearings, you belatedly realize that you had been ferociously attacked by the Whomping Willow.

A bloody tree had just bitch-slapped you into next Wednesday, and then had the gall to act surprised by your reaction.

Hurriedly putting some distance between you and the tree, the massive volume of expletives leaving your lips were enough to make the singular soul who witnessed the entire interaction turn red in embarrassment.

Jeon Jungkook had been minding his business, snugly nestled amongst the branches of a nearby willow tree that wasn’t violent enough to catch a murder charge. He’d found this spot his second year, after realizing that the students rarely got close to even the surrounding areas of the Whomping Willow, too afraid of the possibility of what he was currently witnessing.

His tree was close, but far enough that his presence never triggered an adverse reaction from the perverted deciduous nearby. Any wandering students quickly cleared the area once they realized where they were, so he’d never had to deal with anyone else disturbing his peace.

That is, until now.

As he watched you curse the tree in about a thousand different ways, he noted the Slytherin scarf secured tightly around your neck. He scanned his memories for something familiar, but failed to find your face amongst them. He wasn’t exactly social amongst those of his own year, so this didn’t surprise him.

What did surprise him was when, still cursing, you yanked your wand from your robes and furiously started throwing spells at the Whomping Willow. After watching a few of them hit, he realized that the spells weren’t violent in nature, per se, doing nothing but splattering bright pigments of color against its bark. Reds, oranges, and pinks soon dyed the trunk of the willow, making for an interesting sight.

But, while technically harmless, the influx of attacks did nothing short of enraging it.

The tree’ limbs were violently flailing about as it desperately tried to reach you, who taunted it from a safe distance. Your face was the picture of immense smugness and glee, eyebrows dancing and feet moving about.

“Do you know how much that fucking hurt? You bloody menace, I’m going to come here every single fucking night and paint you in the colors of misery and humiliation! It felt as if my head twisted around my neck -- bloody hell, should I really sue this godforsaken school? Should I just kill this thing? Should I march up to the headmaster with all your pathetic little branches in my arms? Only you can get violent, is that it? You’re lucky you’re getting off with just paint, I should have shaved a few layers of bark off of you to teach you a lesson --” you ranted, hexes flowing freely from your wand even as you talked.

At some point, just the bark hadn’t been enough for you, and you started zapping entire branches an obnoxious shade of blue.

As he watched the spectacle in front of him, a fucking tree going absolutely batshit and a girl with more than just a little crazy in her eyes, for the first time this year, Jungkook lost it.

He laughed so loudly it startled you right out of your hateful monologue, and you whipped your head around to the source of the noise.

That proved to be a dire mistake as your neck froze up in protest, the earlier smack from that stupid tree doing more than a little damage. You fell to your knees rather dramatically, scowling up at the boy in the non-threatening tree he was perched in.

Your face was full of blame as you clutched at your aching neck, and the ridiculousness of the situation only made him laugh harder.

It took several moments for Jungkook to calm himself down, and by that point you’d made yourself comfortable on the same spot you fell at. You had toppled onto your back at some point, staring begrudgingly up at the sky. Noting the lack of laughter in the background now, you carefully inclined your head up again, Jungkook’s upside down countenance coming into view a few feet away from you.

“Are you done laughing at my pain?” you harrumphed.

“You seemed to be handling it pretty well earlier,” he responded cheekily. You felt your face grow warm, choosing to roll your eyes. You made a show of procuring your precious book from your robes, before promptly beginning to leaf through it.

“Are you always so aggressive?”

He didn’t know why he was even talking to you, but you made such a lasting impression on him at this point that it made him curious.There’s little in the way of interest for him nowadays, so to his surprise he found himself drawn to your exceedingly chaotic energy.

You ignored his inquiry as you continued to read, so he took the chance to study your appearance. You were by no means unpleasant to look at, and despite your disheveled appearance he couldn’t help but stare a little. The fact that you were so stubbornly pretending as if he didn’t exist and wasn’t blocking your sunlight was impressive really, and made him snicker a little. The marvels of your face were in full force as your habit of narrating what you read bled through. The pretty pink of your lips formed words he wished to know, telling a story he began quite curiously wishing he was a part of. It wasn’t until the noise of the Whomping Willow still raging in the background rang through again before he snapped out of his daze. Looking back at the tree in embarrassment, he collected himself before turning back to you with a devilish grin.

“Are you insane?” he continued.

The stupid question made you flinch, and you carefully turned towards him again. Were you insane? You didn’t think so. Your stinging cheek and aching neck proved otherwise. By the way, why is he even talking to you? You couldn’t remember ever even having a conversation with this boy, yet he accuses you of being insane?

At this point, you already recognized who he was. The infamous Jeon Jungkook was right here in front of you, suspiciously antagonizing you. You don’t really know how to react. Your lips pursed and your eyes narrow, an expression that rang faint warning bells in Jungkook’s mind.

Sighing, you shook your head and pointed at him in accusation.

“No, you’re insane. How could you watch a young lady such as myself be attacked by such a violent creature without doing anything to help? Isn’t that dereliction of duty as a fellow student? Are all boys these days as pathetic as you?”

Completely caught off guard at the unexpected attack, he gaped at you. He didn’t even know you, yet you so easily accused him of dereliction of -- of -- what duty, exactly?

Did you just twist the entire situation into being his fault? His fault? And did you just call him pathetic?

Pathetic?

Him?

“Are you actually out of your mind?” he choked out, eyes bulging.

Jungook had never been called pathetic in his life, the word making his eyebrows furrow and his neck tense. You had to have been the most absurd person he’d ever met; there was no possible way to wrap his mind around how such an offensive girl with so many large screws loose was sorted into his house.

He jumped down from the tree, making his way towards where you sat. You had begun ignoring him again, going back to your book. He caught a glimpse of the name on the cover as you did so, The Count of Monte Cristo. He’d never heard of such a book before, but he’d also never heard of such a person as you, so of course your tastes would be eccentric as well.

You had leaves on your head from when the tree smacked you, he clocked in amusement. The book you held looked worn and well-loved, the pages wrinkling under your fingertips. You had pretty fingers, he also noted. The look in your eyes had seemed to finally calm down as you peacefully sat while you read, completely ignoring the Whomping Willow and its still ongoing tantrum.

The entire scene before him didn’t seem the slightest bit real, and Jungkook wondered in passing if it was part of your norm to say and do outrageous things without blinking.

“If one has indulged in the greatest revenge story of all time, then one must treat revenge not as insanity, but as a duty,” you said suddenly. He looked at you as if you had two heads, not knowing what to make of you or how to respond…

“Are you talking about you and the bloody tree?” he finally squawked out incredulously.

“Sit down, you’re blocking the sunlight,” you snapped impatiently. For whatever reason, Jungkook did as he was told, seating himself next to you.

This was his first genuine interaction he’s had with someone since his hyungs all graduated, and though out of character, he realized he wanted it to last a bit longer.

Just a little bit.

He still thought you were crazy.

“So you’re saying torturing the Whomping Willow isn’t insane -- it’s just your duty?” he asked incredulously.

“If I feel wronged, I see it justified to want to correct who wronged me.”

“With torture?”

“Did I actually harm it though? It nearly snapped my neck, I’d still be in the right if I did even more.”

“But...you won’t.”

You give him a wry smile, vaguely annoyed that you can’t enjoy your book, but also somewhat enjoying the company.

Even if he was mildly insulting.

“I’m going to come here regularly from now on to put it in its place,” you sniff. After all, it was only fair to vent your frustrations a little more, right? Your emotions had been too pent up recently, this event being the catalyst to a complete meltdown.

You were embarrassed for someone to have witnessed said meltdown, but it’s far too late for regrets.

Jeon Jungkook smelled like mint, wood, and oranges, an odd combination, but not one you could say you disliked. He talked in a pout, like the entire world just existed in order to make him unhappy. So when the corners of his mouth lifted as he snickered at your response, you smiled as well.

You fully realized how insane you look, but you’re used to others judging you anyway.

“You’re something else,” he finally responds, shaking his head.

“No, I’m (Y/N),” you roll your eyes. After a beat of silence, you both snigger at the dumb statement.

And for a while, you two continued to sit there in silence, Jungkook picking at the grass as you read. It was nice, too nice. Your heartbeat gradually started to quicken as you became more self-conscious and hyperaware; you were entirely unused to spending time with someone your age in any way, shape, or form. Jungkook seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowing again as he nicked until the ground around him was bald. You took the time to study his features, everything about him being summed up in one word: pretty. He was just pretty, prettier than you, you thought. The reasons this pretty boy was gracing you with his presence were still lost on you, but you didn’t mind it for the meantime.

“If you were curious,” you started. Why? You didn’t know. For fuck’s sake, you were nervous.

“If you did read the greatest revenge story of all time, you’d understand why revenge is a duty to yourself and to the world.”

There you go again, with your matter-of-fact way of communicating, Jungkook thought.

You don’t speak as someone expressing an opinion, but as someone communicating a fact. Jungkook found that the odd things that came out of your mouth were made to seem as nothing but logical and just - the truth not just as you believed it to be, but as it was. It made him want to understand you, the girl who fought the Whomping Willow, in more detail.

Even now, he didn’t know why he kept talking to you. Well, he did -- he found you interesting. That was the problem.

The only people Jungkook spoke to past necessity were his six hyungs -- who had now all graduated and left him behind. The fact that he was now sitting with someone, a girl no less, and having an actual conversation was frustratingly perplexing. You, (Y/N), smelled like vanilla and smoke, a combination so odd it made his head spin. So When you yet again say something completely outrageous as if it’s the greatest truth ever known, and as his senses began to pick up nothing but that cursed vanilla, Jungkook decided he’d had enough of being high off you.

“No thanks,” he replied, rising to his feet. He didn’t know what to expect in response, but it wasn’t you shoving the book into his hands before you bounded off, and definitely not before you flicked one last hex at that tree.

He clutched the book in his hands as he watched you walk away, finally coming to a conclusion about you.

You were definitely insane.

-🐍-

You quietly ate your dinner in the Great Hall, the chatter of your housemates a welcome distraction from thinking too hard about the events of your day. But foolishly enough, your mind still wandered to the pretty boy every now and then. You were vaguely aware that he sat somewhere amongst your housemates at this table, but you were too stubborn to look around for him. You knew you made quite the impression, but with the rumors you’d heard about Jeon Jungkook, you weren’t even sure if he’d acknowledge even knowing who you were at this point. And now that you’d given him your favorite book, you wanted nothing more than to head to the library to find new reading material. You decided to hasten your dinner, but unfortunately for you, the headmaster had other plans in mind.

Apparently, plans for your utter demise.

“Good evening students,”

Dumbledore had said beforehand that there was something he needed to discuss with the student body, a fact that you’d forgotten until now. You mentally groaned as you turned toward the old man, your escape plan flying out the window.

“It has come to my attention that the Whomping Willow has been vandalized,” he continued. You immediately stiffen, caught off guard. The other students begin whispering, mentions of the now colorful, volatile tree being thrown around. You wanted to literally die on the spot, more uncomfortable than you’d been when you realized that Jeon Jungkook had been watching you.

It was one thing to be the center of attention, but another to be the center of attention with everyone still not knowing who you are. The notion made you uncomfortable, and just reminded you of the fact that you had no one here close enough to recognize you to begin with.

Well, except for that person.

You suppose you should be happy that no one knew it was you, that way you can avoid trouble, but your heart felt heavy instead. You felt like a ghost in what was supposed to be your home for seven years...not that the ghosts here were the type you wanted to be particularly acquainted with.

You still remember the time Moaning Myrtle suggested you die alongside her so that at least you wouldn’t feel lonely...

You had stayed up the entire night that time researching how to successfully murder a ghost.

“Though I understand the willow can be a bit violent, vandalizing it in such a way shall not be tolerated. Please refrain from doing such acts in the future. If you must, avoid the area. If such a thing is repeated, harsh discipline will follow. I trust you students will all behave accordingly.”

You thought your ears were playing tricks on you, but the murmurs of your classmates around you confirmed it. The uncontrollable giggling you thought you heard was coming from Jeon Jungkook himself, sat all the way at the far corner of the Slytherin table. A wide smile had broken the ever-present pout on his face, his head tilted down as he tried to control himself.

Suddenly looking up, he makes eye contact with your horrified countenance, and under the stares of shock and curiosity of his housemates, he throws his head back and guffaws.

You shoot up out of your seat and rush out of the Hall, past Jungkook who only laughed harder. How one singular person could make your heart beat this fast and make being seen, your greatest wish, feel this uncomfortable was beyond you. But you were sure of one thing:

That stupid tree attacked you, you were (technically) reprimanded for your revenge, and now you were being laughed at by the sole witness. The embarrassment was enough to make you shiver.

Yeah, you were definitely going to sue this fucking school.

*

He doesn’t think he’s ever been more entertained by another person in his life. Or, at least not recently. Jungkook found himself genuinely questioning the stability of your emotions and thought process as he watched you storm out of the Great Hall. He was so focused on you and your antics that he didn’t notice all the eyes watching him after his outburst for quite a while.

“Jungkook, did something funny happen? I’d like to know too,” the girl sitting next to him finally questioned, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. Jungkook smoothly shifted his body away from her, ignoring the invasive question. His thoughts were still on you, and how ridiculous your expression was. He’d been observing you from the very start of Dumbledore’s speech, and as the man went on, Jungkook found himself more and more amused at the annoyed, indignant look on your face. You, this girl he’d never even noticed before, had suddenly become so distracting that he even began to forget himself.

So distracting that, tipped over by the mortification on your face once the two of you finally made eye contact, he couldn’t help but explode into incredulous, tickled laughter. So distracting that he completely forgot that he, Jeon Jungkook, behaving in such a way was a distraction in of itself and would draw unwanted attention.

And as he finally calmed down and began to finish his dinner amongst the stares, the distraction that was you still plagued his mind even after he had long since left the Great Hall and wandered down the castle corridors. He should have gone farther and down several flights of the magical staircases to get to the Dungeons, but a glimpse of something to his left, outside of one of the windows, caught his attention.

Curiously approaching, a grin soon etched itself across his mouth as the far-off sight of the bespeckled Whomping Willow came into view. The tree was shaking it’s pink-and-orange leaves in anger, still triggered beyond belief at the day’s events.

Jungkook softly sniggered to himself, the sight giving him recall of yet another reminder of yours -- the book you’d left with him. He felt around his robes for a bit before finally grasping it, pulling it out under the soft glow of the moonlight through the windowpane.

The pages of the book were well-worn, a nod to how often those pretty fingers of yours leafed through its pages, he begrudgingly noticed.

The Count of Monte Cristo, as it was titled, promised a tale of grand revenge of the utmost satisfaction, according to the synopsis. Your neurotic insistence on living your life by said book’s principles came to mind, and for the first time in his life Jungkook became fascinated by something made by muggles.

Just as light reading material, he promised himself, tucking the book away safely before continuing his journey.

-🐍-

Jungkook didn’t expect to see you again, or at least not in any real capacity, but when Professor Flitwick was accidentally bitten by one of his numerous venomous plants, Professor Slughorn insisted that he was up to snuff and could take over the duties of both he and Flitwick, thus leading to the merger between the two classrooms.

Now this began a multitude of problems, the first being that Jungkook tended to avoid Slughorn like the plague. Slughorn’s love of geniuses led him to approach Jungkook when they crossed paths in Diagon Alley the summer before his third year. After refusing to take his class in a rather rude manner, Jungkook became the subject of Slughorn’s petty ire, the man insisting to anyone who’d listen how arrogant and questionable of a character he was.

Feud aside, Jungkook absolutely loathed the man, the stories of favoritism and incompetence leading him to view the glory-obsessed man as little more than an eyesore. He’d managed dodging him for three years now, but it seems his luck has finally run out.

The second cause of his problems was none other than the entirety of Gryffindor house itself, or at least the ones who’d managed to be coming along with Slughorn in this merger. Gryffindors were yet another thing he avoided like the plague, their brash, competitive nature often causing them to make bets on who could finally beat him or… who could finally get him.

At least the Hufflepuffs of Flitwick’s class were too shy or polite to actually try anything, but the frequent glances and loud whispers and red scarves reminded him that those days were over. At the very least, Slughorn’s class had also been a mixture with more Slytherins, and those of his house generally left him to his own devices for the most part.

Or so Jungkook thought, until he looks up and sees you bounding toward him in all your glory. No one had actually mustered up the courage to claim partnership with him just yet, the seat beside him in his new classroom currently empty. No, they were too busy daring each other into it or incessantly giggling. It had been all of thirty seconds since he sat his seat before he suddenly found you in his space.

His senses once again filled with vanilla and smoke, his eyes wide as he stared you down.

You were in this class? What were you doing? Why did you come to him?

“Is this seat taken?” You cut off his thought process smoothly, swiftly pulling the chair from out under the table. You looked more put together than when he last saw you, if that was saying anything. Jungkook couldn’t help but think back to the brutal, confident energy you exuded as the filthiest of words flew out of your mouth, the image of you and your wild eyes etched into his mind.

The confidence was still there, but the wildfire seemed to have been replaced with something cooler, more calculative, as you sat beside him.

Jungkook had properly interacted with you all of one time and couldn’t get you out of his mind since, but now that you were sitting in front of him, approaching him first, anything he’d ever thought to have said had flown right out the window.

“You have something of mine. It’s been about a month, I assume you’re all done up, yeah?” You broke the silence again, reaching your hand out expectantly.

“What?” he said dumbly.

Your brows raise, and he swore to God he never felt so dumb under someone else’s gaze before. Holding your stare for a few moments, Jungkook swore he’d never been more red after he finally realized you were referring to your book.

“Oh, yeah. I have it, just not here.” he replied. He watched you as you let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair.

He honestly still couldn’t get past the fact that you actually sat next to him.

“Are you going to stay there?” he said uncomfortably, clocking the fact that half the class was watching their interaction with interest. You seemed to treat the jealous scowls of the others as air, making yourself comfortable as you began pulling out your textbook.

“Where else am I going to go?” you drawled, gesturing to the rest of the classroom. It seems indeed as if everyone else had already found their seats amidst your conversation, but that didn’t stop those who were listening in.

“I’ll switch with you,” piped up a Gryffindor girl rather snidely. She looked vaguely familiar, but as the girl gave him a flirty smile Jungkook found it hard to even recall her name.

Her seatmate giggled as she jabbed her in the side, clearly at least partially the cause of her friend’s boldness.

He rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to you. But your attention was still on the girl, who had already gotten up and began gathering her books.

“Sit back down, Crumpet, before I hex you into oblivion.” you sneered.

“I’d like to see you try,” the girl snapped, promptly dropping her books onto your side of the table. Her hand reached for her wand, but yours was faster.

Before anyone could react, you’d charmed her books right as Slughorn walked into the classroom, pomp and circumstance and an annoyingly familiar narcissistic energy arriving with him.

Jungkook fought back the urge to roll his eyes again, still admittedly embroiled in the conflict between you and the Gryffindor girl. He could once again see a sliver of that same girl he saw that day in the current you, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to see how this played out.

He couldn’t help but to snicker when he saw what you did to Crumpet’s books, but it seemed the Professor, who’s eyes were now zeroed in on the three of you as Crumpet was still standing, was not as amused.

“Why now -- what are you doing still standing? And who brought food into my classroom?” Slughorn looked outright offended, his hands making their way to his hips in a comical fashion.

Before anyone could say anything else, you smiled sweetly at the man before piping up,

“They’re Amanda’s, sir. Her signature, of course. She made them as a gift for you in appreciation for taking on the difficulties of managing two classes,” you exclaim, ignoring the other girl’s venomous stare.

“Ah! Well thank you, Miss Crumpet,” Slughorn lit up.

“The notion is very well appreciated. Now, if you may please take your seat.”

“O-Of course, Professor! It was my pleasure.” the Gryffindor stuttered out in panic.

The teacher proceeded to observe as Amanda defeatedly made her way back to her original seat, and all the way until she sat down. He watched, and continued to watch, before his brows finally began to furrow.

“Miss Crumpet, where are your books?” Slughorn finally questioned. After a full minute of Amanda failing to find an answer, Slughorn’s hands once again found their way to his hips, and Jungkook’s nostrils couldn’t help but flare as he looked from Slughorn to you, who silently watched your work with blatant fascination.

“Well now, this won’t do. I hope you don’t think I will favor you because of your gift,” Slughorn said unhappily. If there was one thing the man hated more than being rejected, it was being made to look bad. And if Slughorn arbitrarily decided as such, you could go from a hero right back to zero in his eyes.

Jungkook rolled his eyes for the upteenth time that day.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ms. Crumpet. Gifts will not allow you to escape punishment, children,” Slughorn loudly proclaimed, waving his finger around.

Amanda’s face had turned beet red, before she gathered her things in a hurry as the rest of the class looked on in silence. And just when he thought it was over, you proved that the portrait of the Fat Lady still had some wind in those pipes, and Jungkook nearly died.

“Don’t forget your crumpets,” you trill. You looked the picture of smug as the rest of the class looked at you in abject horror, determined not to cross you in this lifetime. Your reaction was petty, vindictive, and all the more frustrating, confusing, and technically harmless that Jungkook remembered. He was sure his own face was a similar shade to Amanda’s from holding in his laughter for so long.

“I’m going to kill you!” Amanda finally screeched, lunging.

“Stupe--”

“Expelliarmus,” Once again, your hand was quicker, disarming the girl before she could complete her threat.

At this point, Slughorn looked as red as the rest of you, his hands clenched into little fists as he started wheezing out a response to Amanda’s outburst.

“How dare you! Out this instant! The audacity -- to attack another student in front of me! The disrespect! I don’t want you back for the rest of the school year!”

The girl turned ashen, not saying another word as she hurried out of the classroom. Her friend tried to speak up for her, to no avail --

“Miss Crumpet can get her credit through thorough personal study instead. She shall still take her exams like the rest of you. If she cannot respect me or my classroom then she is no longer welcome,” Slughorn harrumphed, and that was that.

That was that, and the grin that stretched across Jungkook’s face mirrored yours as he -- along with the rest of your classroom -- decided that you were, indeed, insane.

-🐍-

You really didn’t mean to cause any trouble at first.

You weren’t exactly nice, so the other Houses were wary of you. You did happen to draw the line at bullying for no reason, so in turn your own House hated you. You were simply true to your own emotions, and little-miss-crumpet triggered your annoyance frighteningly so that day.

If there was one thing you hated, it was to be interrupted.

Following Crumpet’s dramatic exit, Slughorn was quite irritable afterwards. You in all your grace decided to quit while you were ahead, electing to stay quiet the rest of the class.

You could hear the occasional whisper of your classmates about your actions, but you honestly couldn’t care less. You were a friend to exactly zero of them, so you cared even less what they thought of you. For you, that ship sailed a long time ago. Nevertheless, you were still slightly uncomfortable over the frequent looks Jungkook would toss your way throughout the lesson.

Did he want you to actually switch with her? Does he not want to be your partner?

You were so used to being treated with disdain by your peers that you found it difficult to spot any other intentions -- for better or worse. This has saved you a lot of bullshit dealing with some of the two-faced snakes of your House, but definitely didn’t help you to spot genuine interactions and intentions throughout the years. You’ve finally decided to resign yourself to the fact that you’d be alone during your stay at Hogwarts, so you couldn’t understand why exactly Jungkook’s reaction bothered you so much.

Given how riled up you’d already made Slughorn via the Crumpet girl, talking during the class would have been unwise, but Jungkook’s constant staring made you unsettled and paranoid. You had no idea what the boy was thinking, and from what you’ve gathered about how unsocial he is, maybe you really did piss him off by acting too friendly.

You were hyper aware of his presence all the way until the class ended. With every stolen glance, you noticed a bit more about him. His bangs had been swept above his forehead, a single strand hanging stubbornly as he concentrated on his book. Jungkook had the tendency to silently narrate as he read, a quirk that he shared with you. The sight made you smile, and you noticed his plump bottom lip often rolled between his teeth.

He would fiddle with the pages as he read, silver rings glistening on his pale fingers. You wondered how they contrasted with your own, then further wondered if you’d finally lost it.

The thought abruptly ended your reverie.

The two of you sat in silence until the class cleared out, not knowing what to say. You gathered your books without another word from either you or Jungkook, who just quietly watched you from his seat.

Biting your own lip, you spun around and began marching to the door before you felt a squish as your foot slipped out from under you and you fell unceremoniously on your back. Your feet had damn near gone over your head, the pain registering a few moments later. The groan that left your body was ungodly, your mind disoriented and eyes blatantly confused. Your robes had also flown over your head in your fall, and in a tizzy you hurried to right yourself and fix your clothes. Jungkook watched you in your disheveled state with wide eyes, a look of his you’ve come to grow very familiar with.

You take a moment to stare down at the offending cause of your tumble - a golden crumpet, fallen to the floor during the escapade from earlier.

You look at the crumpet, then at Jungkook, who looked at the crumpet, then at you.

You watch his face slowly begin to morph before you shoot up and zoom out the door, a peal of loud laughter following your back.

As your earlier triumphant high faded into intense embarrassment -- a crumpet! Of all things! You had one vindictive, petty, definitely not harmless thought on your mind --

That a muggle lawyer should be able to wipe the floor with a magical one, you supposed. Taking a cue from your father’s distant cousins, the Malfoys, you were sure you’d get the doors of this blasted place shuttered in no time.

-🐍-

You’d be lying if you said you saw it coming. It was one summer. One summer you gave to Jung Jaehyun in exchange for your heart.

You in all your teenage romanticism and delirium reckoned he was the love of your life, in all his brown haired and honey eyed glory. You’d kept those memories under lock and key for years now, determined to never think about the boy again, let alone see him.

So when Jaehyun emerged into the Great Hall with an arm slung around Jungkook’s shoulders, part of you wondered if you’d finally gone as crazy as people claimed.

This was the same boy who swept you off your feet with copious amounts of charm enough to sway even McGonagall, the same boy who suddenly left and never spoke to you again.

When you looked at him then, you saw stars in his eyes. When you look at him now, he seems like a complete fucking devil in disguise.

You watch with thinly veiled disgust as the two sat at the far end of the table, chatting away. A red scarf was wrapped securely around Jaehyun’s neck, causing you to scoff at the irony.

Coward, you thought. The two ignored the looks being sent their way, too engrossed with their own conversation to notice anything else. This was the first time you’d seen Jungkook happy (outside when he was laughing at you), and you felt somewhat unnerved. You wished to see him smile a bit more often, as nice as it was. His ring adorned fingers were flitting about in the air as he animated whatever tale he was spinning for Jaehyun, the most expressive you’d ever seen him. Jungkook really was pretty, his chiseled jawline nicely complementing the softer features of his face. You’d long gotten used to the sound of his laugh, but right now, for some reason, you felt a discomfort at the sight of it being caused by Jaehyun of all people.

You honestly didn’t know which of the two it was directed toward.

You wanted to watch Jungkook in this rare state for a bit longer, but it seems as if Jaehyun finally noticed the holes you were burning into the sides of their faces. His head abruptly turned to level his gaze with yours.

It seemed as if time had stopped for a moment, rendering you the only two in the room. You watched the recognition light up behind his eyes, his face softening into something else -- a smile, but something more. You couldn’t quite figure it out before the boy started gesturing towards you, calling your name loudly.

“(Y/N)!”

You locked eyes with Jungkook first, who looked back at you with shock. Then you face Jaehyun, who was already making his way toward you.

Jaehyun, the supposed… love of your life?

You turned on your heels and ran away.

-🐍🐍🐍-

That’s it for part 1! This will probably be a 3 part mini series. I know it was fairly long and I probably should have split this one into two parts but I hope you all enjoyed it! Please comment and reblog :) anyone who’d like to join the tag list drop a comment as well!

[nnnyxie]

BAE I‘M ABT TO ABSOLUTELY GO OFFFFFFG

So Fan!Izu is also plaguing my mind… Fan!izu x Artist!reader?? Imagine??? It starts in maybe middleschool…Izu discovers Readers Art account full of All might and they connect over their shared love for him…this friendship thing continues for a few years but they loose contact when reader deletes their art blog seemingly out of nowhere…so then there‘s a time skip until he’s a pro and Reader has a rather successful gallery of exclusively hero paintings…feeling themselves drawn to Deku (crazyyy imagine that) and painting him all the time…an especially big painting of Deku alongside Allmight is being displayed by them right now..clearly visible through a huge window in the front of the building

So now the fun part

Izu is on Patrol, or even better in a heavy fight, he swings by while doing god knows what and spots the painting and suddenly the world stops, he recognized this style…everything comes clashing back on him, the late nights of talking and making up theories about all might and all the intimate conversations they shared…how they opened up to eachother and everything, while he is distracted the villain gets in a nasty hit

Reader being the hero fanatic they are has been following the fight hidden inside (has no idea that Izu is their ex online friend situating thing) conveniently possesses a healing quirk and quickly rushes outside..maybe recovery girls grand child or something (YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS GOINGGG???) but their quirk works a little ✨different✨so they have to kiss him specifically on the lips and as soon as their eyes meet they just pause and stare, both their eyes widening

But they have no time to process this- as there is still a villain going about their shenanigans so reader Just smashes their lips together and Izu goes to fight and win and bam reunion

I be writing whole fics in your Requests I don’t even know what to do with myself😭

I’m sorry🫶🏻

#𖢥 izuku anon

IZU ANONNNN I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE YOU!!!!

this is such a beautiful idea!! i want to eat you!!! /pos

you were fairly small in the art community back in middle school— which resulted in little to no commissions.

but— there was this one boy who absolutely ADORED all of your all might fan art!! after you finished one drawing for him, he’d commission another.

you had to let him know that he’s allowed to basically buy in bulk— plus the bulk prices wouldn’t tear up his wallet!! though— he was always happy to pay you extra. he insisted, even.

with all of these interactions, it led to a friendship!! you would talk about all might’s recent battles, general interests, school, etc. of course, you never brought up quirks. you felt that there was no reason to! plus yours was…….. interesting, to say the least.

the friendship started at the beginning of middle school and lasted until the end of it.. before you just,,, disappeared.

and you went years without talking— years without the video chats and voice memos. years without the hero conspiracy theories. years without late night embarrassing stories. just— years without each other.

he didn’t know why you left and it hurt him. he mourned for years over the loss of your friendship. why didn’t you tell him you were leaving? why didn’t you try to contact him again? what happened? were you hurt? did you… die? he cried over this.

and he had fantasies of meeting you again one day. he made up scenarios of him saving you from danger— or of him just randomly running into you while he was patrolling during his work studies. or you just finding him. he’d fall asleep to these, hoping that they’d come true.

one lucky (sort of?) day, izuku was thrown through your gallery— glass shards flew everywhere.

for a moment, you paused. everything disappeared and it was as if only he existed. “izuku?” you whispered. his previously closed eyes shot open.

he looked at you— he looked— surprised? hurt? happy? confused? it was like he was going through the five stages of greif except— instead of greif it’s whatever the hell that’s going on between you two.

izuku rushed to get up but, he couldn’t— he could hardly sit up. he was bleeding an awful lot.

“don’t get up! you’re hurt!” you kneeled and pushed him to lay down. “where have you— what?” he held his injury, there was a large piece of steel in his side. “i said don’t get up! you have a damn piece of steel in your side izu!” you panicked— should you take it out and heal him? but that would— oh god that would be embarrassing. but, it’d save him… maybe you should just suck it up and do it?

“bite on this.” you reached for the silk painting next to you and shoved it in his mouth. his eyes widened, realizing what you were about to do. you pulled the steel out of him and watched the blood nearly gush out—

you leaned close to him, were you really going to do this? i mean— it’s part of your quirk so, it shouldn’t be weird, right? and, even so, it’s just a kiss. a kiss on the lips. a kiss that would definitely make an already weird situation,,, weirder… but, it’s to help— so you just suck it up.

“i’m sorry,” you took the silk from his mouth and kissed him— the kiss was longer than what your quirk called for… but, extra measures??? yeah……..

his injury healed quick, thankfully. there was still fighting outside. the villain’s yells caught izuku’s attention. realizing that he was, in fact, still taking down a bad guy with his partners. “i’m going to be back. don’t disappear again. please?” you nodded.

and just like he said— he was back. it was past dark now, your window was able to be restored by a sidekick with a reversal quirk. he was happy to see that. “hi,” was all izuku said when he walked through the door. he looked both anxious and excited. “hi,” you breathed out, this was kind of scary.

he looked around your gallery while making his way towards you. there were various portraits of himself. ranging from traditional, digital, abstract, realism, mosaic, and silk. he was both flattered and impressed.

he reached you and stared. taking in the fact that you were actually here.

“why did you leave?” izuku asked after a long silence.

“well it’s not like i wanted to… art was just something my parents didn’t want me to do… and they took it all away, i guess.” he frowned a bit, how could a parent not support their child’s ambitions? it appalled him that they didn’t.

“did you try finding me again?” he asked. he remembers the countless hours he spent searching for you. “i did and— i was able to find you.” “then why didn’t you reach out?” his face, his expression— it was gut wrenching. “i thought you would’ve hated me so i just… didn’t.” he looked bewildered. as if you just said something so heinous and unforgiving. “i wouldn’t— i wouldn’t have hated you,” izuku’s eyes were watery. “i’m sorry, izu.” he shook his head no, “i understand, okay? you don’t need to apologize.” he sniffled.

the tension was nearly suffocating— you didn’t know how to respond. i mean— what do you say to that?

izuku noticed the obvious anxiety you had.

“so uhm… deku is a cool hero, from what i’ve heard,” he joked. then you remembered the multiple pieces you had of him— you wanted to die.

“oh god,” you groaned in embarrassment and covered your face. izuku smiled and uncovered your face, “your art is really amazing.” was he trying to kill you? like— his smile?? he’s so pretty??? how can a guy be so pretty?? genuinely, he’s so much prettier in real life than in pictures— it’s ridiculous.

“uhm how about we catch up? maybe over uhm dinner tomorrow?” izuku asked, his face was flushed red— again, he’s ridiculously pretty. “i’d love that.”

[catgirlscout]

Johnshi Week 2024 | Day 3 | DnD Headcanons

Since the prompt for day 3 of #johnshiweek2024 by @johnshidaily was DnD Au, I thought I'd share some headcanons for Johnny and Kenshi.

You can also read them and chapter 2 on my Ao3!

Johnny would definitely go all out. He would make up a whole intricate backstory, act out his role, and put on a full cosplay for every session. His dice match his character, and he even bought and painted a miniature himself.

I can imagine that he would also love to be the DM and create his own little TTRPG campaigns. He loves improvising and gives each side character a distinct voice. Everyone always gets super intense during fights, and he feels very proud of himself for being able to pull his friends into the scene. If they would struggle making a character sheet, he would help them and throw in some prompts.

Back in school, he used to be a real nerd about DnD. He still has all of the books. This is really where his love for screenwriting comes from.

As for his character, he is really diverse. He loves to make new ones and figure out every little detail about them. In a game with the MK1 cast, I think he’d be either a Paladin or a Bard. I’d personally choose Paladin over Fighter in his case, because he wants to fight for the right cause and be a knight of the people. And if he’s playing as a Bard, he’s definitely gonna try to romance everything and anything!

He loves playing as any race that isn’t fully human for the fantasy experience. Non-human species have a special place in his heart. So, his choices would probably be Halfling, Orc, or Dragonborn. Perhaps even Elf, but he would probably stray away from your typical perfect, never-aging Elf, even though he’s fancy like that. But he prefers the whole underdog, having to train hard to become the hero storyline. Twist villains or morally gray characters are also totally his thing.

Kenshi, on the other hand, never had time for games in his youth due to growing up with the Yakuza breathing down his family’s neck. But of course he let his best friend Johnny talk him into it. He’s pretty new to DnD and doesn’t quite get the rules yet, but once he’s in the zone, he really gets sucked into the world-building, exploring everything there is and leaving no stone unturned and chest unopened. It’s become his escape from reality in a way, at least for a little while.

His character would probably be pretty true to himself, and he would make choices based on what he would do in real life. Of course he always fights with a sword, preferably an old family blade that wields some type of magic. He doesn’t roleplay so much, although he begins talking very epically when he’s making important decisions. From that point on, his character goes through a lot of development.

For class, Johnny advised him to go with Warlock, but Rogue would also be a good alternative. Race-wise, he would most definitely go with Tiefling, as that is closest to what he feels like, and the fiendish ancestral origins fit best with his actual background. When given the option, Kenshi also always chooses to lose his eyesight one way or another, if he doesn’t start out blind. Both Liu Kang and Johnny have continuously told him he doesn’t need to, but he does it anyway. The self-insert is real!

[sixminutestoriesblog]

nao-name

I'm going to get a bit philosophical. Researching today's topic dropped me through an ice sheet I hadn't realize was thin and things went a bit deep. I still think its worth writing though, so here we go.

In the beginning of all things, God said “let there Be”, named a thing and it was.  From His words all life and everything that would spin outward from that came into existence.  One of the first things He told His newly created humans to do was to name all the life they found living around them.

Whether you take it as myth, metaphor or fact, I think its telling that the people writing down that specific creation story considered naming a thing enough to bring it into existence.  There is something buried deep inside humanity that considers being able to True Name a thing powerful.  Controlling.  Summoning.  From the beginning of the world to Rumpelstiltskin's fairy tale to modern urban fantasy where a hero has to learn the demon's name to banish it, humanity is fascinated with the power naming something imparts.  We name our pets, our cars, give our friends nicknames and, sometimes, we even rename ourselves.  

Take a mental trip backward with me.  Let’s go to the very beginning of language.  Once upon a time, there were - well, perhaps not humans, perhaps not yet, but there were people.  There were people who had learned to articulate sounds into the vastness of the wilderness.  Sounds that didn’t just warn of danger or rejoice over finding fresh water or call the group together.  Sounds that, sung and trilled and coughed and grunted from mouth to mouth, had started to share ideas that went beyond survival, sounds that needed to grow in complexity to match the minds they were coming from.  It wasn’t enough to say “the cave is safe” anymore.  It became “the cave is dry” and then, perhaps, “the cave will fit all of us” and then, in time “the cave is home”.  And eventually it wasn’t ‘the cave’ anymore; it was ‘home’.  

'Let’s go home.'

And ‘home’ meant something different than simply ‘the cave’ even though it was the cave that was being referred to when home was mentioned.  Words, perhaps for the first time, had caught an emotion and turned it into a solid thing.  Home.  Something you only felt to start but that you had made solid when you had called a specific place that word.  In a way, you had taken what wasn’t known and had made it real simply by giving it a name.  Now, when you said ‘home’ everyone in the group knew what you meant and felt what that meaning was in their own hearts.  That was power, enclosing something hereto unknown in the shell of a word, where it could now be understood and passed from person to person, mouth to mouth. Tamed and given a place in the framework of daily life.

These people, creating language, must have felt that power, that awe, each time a new name was given to something, bringing it into their collective conscious, sharing what it was, binding the unknown into the known with the magic of a spoken word, the new tumble of sounds.  Making it safe and also real for all of them.  Snatching it from the dangerous world around them and turning it into something they could hold with their tongues and contain with their mouths. The spoken words were acts of creation and definition.

‘That cluster of stars is The Snake.’

‘In the summer, we will go to the Red Caves and paint your hand on the wall to lay next to mine.’

‘The creature that killed your son is called Bear.’

Because, yes, sometimes, naming a thing tames it.

Sometimes, though, naming a thing just gives your fear a face.

And so, whoever they were, these first people, still learning to name things, they also developed what modern linguistics call ‘noa-names’.  Because if names had the power to create a thing, you had to be very careful what you spoke into existence.  It was too dangerous to say the name ‘Bear’ because a bear might be nearby and feel the power of his name calling to him.  To say a thing was to call it up in everyone’s mind and how far was that from calling it up in reality?  So you didn’t say ‘bear’.  

You said ‘brown’.

And everyone knew what you really meant but you hadn’t said the word itself.  You hadn’t spoken the power of the word.  You’d slid around it sideways, created the image in everyone’s mind but not let the sounds out into the air where anyone - anything -   might hear them and decide to answer.  (There’s a more in-depth post that floats around tumblr about the word ‘bear’ but I can’t find it at the moment).  The point was, people learned to say things without saying them because, at the core and heart of who we are, we know that the sounds that leave our mouths mean something.

It wasn’t a bear.  It was a brown.

It wasn’t a wolf.  It was a stranger.

It wasn’t an elf or fairy.  It was the ‘Fair Folk’ or the ‘Good Neighbors’.

It wasn’t Satan.  It was ‘Old Scratch’ or ‘The Gentleman in Black’.  (In the case of Blues songs like “The Devil’s a Busy Man”, the ‘devil’ mentioned is a nao-name itself, used for very real and immediate reasons.)

It’s not Macbeth.  It’s ‘the Scottish play’.

It's not death. It's 'taking the bus' and 'passing away'.

'Stick and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me' we teach our children - but we all know its a coping technique, not the truth. We all know, somewhere at the beginning of us, that words, written or spoken, carry weight beyond a simple sound. More languages than history can remember have echoed in this world's past, creating and calling down through time. It's become so common that we've grown careless about it, forgetting the magic of being able to name a thing, the power it invokes with each written or spoken syllable. Modern day media spin doctors ply their trade like snake oil sellers of the past, influencing the masses who don't even think about what the words they're accepting as true are creating out of reality.

So, today, just for a little while, why don't we all find the sounds that give us the very human magic we all take for granted and take it back, just a little, for ourselves and our world. Let us, once again, create something real and true and warm and kind when we open our mouths and speak to someone. The magic may be old and worn and faded from those first sounds of so long ago - but its still there, if we pay close enough attention.

A gentle word can still, sometimes, at exactly the right moment, in the exact right tone, change a person's life. Why not start today?

Why not start now?

[ofmermaidstories]

hello, darling mermsy!! i’m back, yet again, with another brainrot proposal for you — but this time for our blasty boy!

we’ve heard of dekules, but are we ready for bakushang? shangkugo? (basically just katsuki as li shang, i’m realising only now that there’s no easy way to merge their names together <//3) they’re both tall, dark, brooding, but are soft and caring if you get through to them deep enough. our courageous, troublemaking Y/N and the newly appointed captain of the emperor’s army, bakugo katsuki! what a perfect match!!

i believe this isn’t by any means an original idea!! i know andy has a fic about this (it’s absolutely incredible, melted my brain just three chapters in) if u haven’t already read it!!! just wanted to get your take on this if u haven’t already done one yet, bc i recently rewatched the 1998 mulan and had the lightbulb to word vomit about this to you!!!

hansy!!! my love!!! i’m sorry, i meant to slip into your inbox to wish you well/ask how your exams went—are you free from the perils of schoolwork, yet??? you’re so clever, i bet you did well. 🥺🍀

but okay let’s play, LOL. War Paint was one of the very first BNHA x Reader fics I ever read so I will always be fiercely loyal to it!!! Saying that, and I mean this with nothing but absolute love Andy, DONT @ ME, but reading War Paint gave me less Mulan vibes and more Song of the Lionness ones.

(Simplifying it—really simplifying it—a girl pretends to be her twin brother so she can train as a knight! There’s lots of magic and even some romance and Tamora Pierce has been one of my favourite authors since I was a kid!)

I think it has to do with the fact that War Paint is focused on barrack/training/castle life and the subplot with the thief—whereas when I think of Mulan, I think of war.

Mulan is one of my favourite 🅱️isney movies!!! I first saw it when my primary school had a fundraiser—they set up a projector and screened Mulan and I very distinctly remember being overwhelmingly excited as the opening credits started (I nearly choked on my red twists/twizzlers) and my Dad telling me I had to be quiet LOL. If I had to make a graphic showcasing all the fundamental pieces of media to both my personality and who I became as a person, Mulan would be centre of it. 🥹

(PSA: true to your heart is a bop and has been in my liked songs on spotty ever since i’ve had an account!)

Tbh, I’d never seriously tackle a Mulan-inspired fic just out of respect for Andie Trousers Multipled by Several, but if I did, I would absolutely play hard into the war angle LOL. Maybe even indulge in some war crimes!!! You know that scene where they finally make it to the village in the pass and it’s been burnt to the ground? Yeah. Yeah. 😌 I think we can ramp that up. Have our Reader and Captain Bakugou & Co engage in some Revenge War Crimes. People are bastards in wars already, without feeling justified about it. I was literally just watching a documentary the other week about some Aussie soldier who’s facing trial (has faced trial?) for being an absolute cunt—one of his lighter cruelties involved him shooting a family’s tied-up dog as he searched their home, so take that, take the power people feel like they have when you give them a weapon and a uniform, and then put them in front of a massacred village and see what happens next. 🔪

And idk id guess there’d be a romance in there somewhere too. 💀💀💀💀 tbh im more interested in the war tho LOL. (BECAUSE!!!! LISTEN!!! i like a challenge!!!!!!!! And I think trying to fic-ify an AU that dovetails closely to the (🅱️isney) Mulan tale brings up a lot of interesting questions when it comes to world-building, and like what you need to avoid/honour, especially if you’re borrowing from an actual, real world culture for it. The Mulan legend is Chinese, for starters—and My Hero has a Japanese cast written by a Japanese man. So, okay, maybe to simplify things for ourselves we Fantasy-AU it—but then do we eurocentric the world around them, to play it safe? Is that less playing it safe and more whitewashing? My Hero being Japanese informs the canon characters, which are traits that spill over into our fanon. Traits that we love! So is it a disservice to them to strip them of it, just so we can play War? Does this stripping make it worse when we bring in atrocities like slain villagers, and revenge acts? Do we honour canon by letting them keep their Quirks? How badly does that ramp up things then???? Like, idk, I could literally bang on about this for hours (and have, in the group chat LMAO im sorry besties 😭))

This is literally too much overthinking for your ask, Hansy, I’m sorry. 😭 ITS IMPORTANT THO. Because the world around them informs our characters!!!! So pretending we sort all that out, now we have our upstart, hot-as-shit Captain Bakugou, who has idolised General Toshinori for years now—and he’s out to prove he can train the best of them!!! Except he’s working with like, farm boys! Gutter-rats, given the choice of this or execution! Maybe there’s a cohort of like, genuine scrappers, but Captain Baku here has deliberately been given the bottom of the conscript list: this is a test. And I!! Personally!!! Think that should make him an utter bastard when dealing with our Reader!!! I think in canon, Bakugou is like, learning that people need more than to be told “u suck, do better” so I like to believe Captain Bakugou would try—maybe he and his lil friends learnt hard in a trial by fire when they were kids, during the First War—so he’s earnt this leadership role. But he’s used to fighting with peers! Peers that knew what they were doing! And now he has to oversee the training of like, the most inept civilians he’s ever witnessed! I think we could justify him losing his cool—specifically with our Reader. 😌

A Reader who doesn’t take it!!! I’ve always liked that in 🅱️isney’s Mulan, she does it for her father. So I’d give that same motivation to our Reader—a tomboy who’s always been better at giving the village boys a run for their money in their little games, who’s always wanted to go and play with them when they roughhouse. Maybe to make things more interesting, we introduce a fiancé—one of those same village boys! They grow up together, have an arranged match. Maybe he’s genuinely kind, in love with Reader whereas Reader’s just kinda like, ho-hum—but then the War pt. 2 rolls in, and he’s swept off in the first round of conscription (so that there’s no one left to volunteer in Reader’s place for her dad, in the next round!).

Oh. You know what? We could ramp up that massacred village scene by making his platoon or whatever they’re called the ones that were stationed there—so Reader finds fiancé’s helmet!!!!! And then she’s all like, omg, 😧. And then she could tie it to her saddlebags and eventually bring it home to his folks. 🥺

(Reader and Bakugou could prop themselves up in their grief, maybe? Because I know in the film the stationed army is overseen by Li Shang’s father, right? So maybe in this version it’s like, idk, Jeanist or Edgeshot or something. Maybe Endeavour? Less because I think Bakugou would be cut up about it, and more because that means we could throw Todoroki in there as well, like, presumed dead (and then he’s NOT because I know Andy would have my head if I killed off her Special Angel Man in a fic!!!), but then that means in the meantime that Bakugou can mourn one of his besties (and they are besties!!!)).

I don’t want a dumbass Bakugou, either, so I think we’d have to follow Andy’s lead and have our Captain clue in early-on that Reader has been lying about their identity. And Bakugou just admires tenacity so he’s less like omg my gendernorms are being called into question and more like FUCK why won’t this useless extra get better at FIGHTING??? That could also maybe make any romantic moments kinda interesting—Reader could have this whole internal thing of, oh my God, he doesn’t know the truth, I’m terrible, is he going to be embarrassed when he finds out??? And then you have the actual reveal—someone else making the discovery, and wanting Reader executed for it, and then Bakugou’s refusal to do so is less a begrudging “you saved my life, and now my debt is paid” and more a silent confession of his feelings!!!!

I just—there’s so much you could do!! There’s so much you could do with all of that!!! Urk!!!! I wanna rip into it with my TEETH. I just—aJFDLKSFJLKSDFJLdmfhfskdmhj.

[crowdsourcedloner]

unhinged cecil rambling time, caster edition fanfest cant come soon enough

in no particular order (and regular text size) heres my thoughts/ideas/babbles about the next caster job/what i think would be neat for a caster job/apparently astro thoughts?

one really nice thing about caster jobs is the weapon can be anything so i hope it wont be just. a stick. or something. or another goddamn sword like come on square give me a mace or a bell or a fancy schmancy focus or magical tattoos or prayer beads or... idk just go wild! be unique! the world is your oyster and i wanna go shucking!

similar vein, i wonder if it'll have a raise... red mage's damage has (relatively) suffered for having easy access to verraise and magick barrier (a genuinely great defensive cooldown), and summoner's damage is likewise lesser for having a raise of it's own compared to black mage... would they add another "selfish" caster? or would they leave black mage as the "selfish" caster, like they did with the "selfish" samurai?

...also, how mobile will it be? endgame fights are decently interesting to plan movement for on black mage and red mage, so i hope they don't just make it a sparkly phys ranged...

green mage is already very hinted at (re: the earring krile picks up at the end of current patch) but, since it's previous iteration as a debuff job probably wouldn't work well in current ffxiv, it'll probably be more green-themed than anything. so... what's green themed? just the color? plants? would plants/nature be distinct enough from conjurer and white mage? would it be like sage where it's just a name reference? will krile become green mage and the player job be something entirely different? who knows! its baseless speculation hours!

(for the record i kinda hope it's just gonna be krile's job if it does come true, the idea of being a green mage doesn't really inspire any interest from me... but maybe its just a lame name and it'll look sick in game and i'll change my mind lmao)

an illusion based caster could be neat as hell imo - it could be a cool take on a pictomancer, it just fights with 'drawn' glamours that explode? we already have examples of creatures like the ink tiger in Rokkon (though that could arguably just be a fancy carbuncle?) and we have ink mages (though they're effectively arcanists) in the Heroes Gauntlet dungeon that could serve as inspiration, though you could run into problems with another book caster... maybe a paintbrush weapon? would it be big enough? an illusion job could really go wild with particle effects too... just imagine a big sketchy lb3 with paint splatters and lots of color!

time mage! clocks! dots! gimme a dot job square you cowards! ...but i'll be the first to admit this idea is the least likely, just bc of how burst focused this game is in general... dot jobs dont like when things go untargetable (so every ulti and several savages and extremes and dungeon bosses and trash mobs dying) so it'd be such a pain to balance... probably not worth the headache and better to play a different game for that power fantasy tbh

on that note, the astro rework - i'm very interested to see where it goes. i love astro's aesthetics and can play it pretty well, but playing it for any longer than a lockout absolutely murders my hands/wrists (even after i've moved keybinds multiple times it's a recurring problem) so i'm curious if they'll aim for a faster pace again. astro's current kit is undeniably strong as hell, but it's so clunky and irritating at times (fuck astrodyne, all my homies hate astrodyne) i wonder what they'll prune from it. change cards to aoe cards, perhaps? remove the seal mechanic? go back to time mage ideas? go harder into heal-over-time effects versus white mage's strong burst heals? would that even be viable? we'll need to wait for the media tour for actual info on this, unfortunately - job action trailers aren't great at piecing together what heals actually do. should see some neat animations at least.

[alteredstatesstuff]

A Whimsical Journey into the World of Drop Shipping

Welcome, my curious adventurers, to a fantastical journey into the land of drop shipping! Today, we embark on a quest to uncover 15 secret sources for drop shipping products that will make your online store shine brighter than a rainbow-colored unicorn. Get ready for a whimsical adventure filled with laughter, surprises, and a touch of satire. Let's dive in!

Granny's Attic: Imagine stumbling upon Granny's attic, a magical treasure trove of forgotten goodies. Explore vintage items, unique collectibles, and quirky knick-knacks that will add a sprinkle of charm to your online store. Granny's attic is like a time machine that transports your customers to a bygone era.

Farmer Fred's Fields: Join Farmer Fred on his enchanting farm, where he cultivates a variety of organic products. From farm-fresh fruits and vegetables to homemade jams and artisanal cheeses, Farmer Fred's Fields offer a wholesome touch to your drop shipping store. It's like having a farmer's market at your fingertips.

Fairy Godmother's Closet: Enter the realm of Fairy Godmother's Closet, where dreams come true. Here, you'll find elegant dresses, dashing suits, and sparkling accessories fit for a royal ball. These magical fashion items will make your customers feel like Cinderella or Prince Charming.

Pirate Pete's Plunder: Ahoy, mateys! Join Pirate Pete on his seafaring adventures and discover hidden treasures from the seven seas. From pirate-themed apparel and accessories to nautical home decor, Pirate Pete's Plunder will bring a touch of adventure and whimsy to your store. Arr, your customers will be saying "Shiver me timbers!" in no time.

Professor Gizmo's Workshop: Step into Professor Gizmo's Workshop, where imagination and innovation collide. This wondrous place is filled with quirky gadgets, gizmos, and ingenious inventions. From futuristic tech accessories to mind-boggling toys, Professor Gizmo's Workshop will delight customers of all ages.

Fairyland Florals: Transport your customers to a magical garden with Fairyland Florals. Delicate fairy-inspired flowers, vibrant succulents, and enchanting terrariums will transform any space into a whimsical paradise. It's like bringing a touch of fairy dust to your drop shipping store.

Sir Barks-a-Lot's Pet Emporium: Attention, pet lovers! Sir Barks-a-Lot's Pet Emporium is where your furry friends' dreams come true. From stylish pet accessories to gourmet treats and pampering products, this emporium will make tails wag and cats purr with joy.

Galactic Goodies: Embark on an interstellar journey with Galactic Goodies, a cosmic collection of space-themed products. From starry night lamps and galaxy-inspired jewelry to astronaut-themed apparel, Galactic Goodies will ignite your customers' passion for the great unknown.

Captain Cupcake's Confectionery: Satisfy your customers' sweet tooth with Captain Cupcake's Confectionery. This delectable destination offers a mouthwatering assortment of gourmet cupcakes, cookies, and sugary delights. Prepare for a sugar rush like no other!

Magical Makeup World: Enter the realm of Magical Makeup World, where beauty meets fantasy. Unleash your inner unicorn with iridescent highlighters, mystical eyeshadow palettes, and whimsical makeup brushes. It's like painting a rainbow on your customers' faces.

Wonderland Whimsies: Fall down the rabbit hole into Wonderland Whimsies, a land of enchantment and peculiar delights. From whimsical home decor and tea sets to quirky accessories inspired by Alice's adventures, this wonderland will bring a touch of magic to your store.

Superhero Supply Co.: Calling all superheroes! Equip your customers with superpowers from Superhero Supply Co. Discover capes, masks, gadgets, and other hero essentials to help your customers save the day. It's like turning your customers into real-life superheroes.

Astral Accessories: Elevate your customers' style to new celestial heights with Astral Accessories. Moon-shaped earrings, galaxy-themed scarves, and constellation-inspired jewelry will make them feel like they're wearing a piece of the universe.

Dinosaur Land: Roar into action with Dinosaur Land, where prehistoric creatures come to life. From dinosaur-themed clothing and toys to fossil replicas and educational resources, Dinosaur Land will captivate the imagination of young paleontologists and dino enthusiasts.

Fantasy Feast: End your journey with a delightful banquet at Fantasy Feast. From whimsical tea parties to enchanted picnics, this source offers magical tableware, fairy-inspired food, and mythical drinkware. It's like indulging in a feast fit for kings and queens of fairy tales.

Conclusion: Congratulations, fellow adventurers! You've discovered 15 extraordinary sources for drop shipping products, where imagination meets reality and satire dances hand in hand with humor. Now it's your turn to bring these fantastical items to your online store and captivate the hearts of your customers. Embrace the magic, have fun, and watch your drop shipping empire thrive. Happy selling in the whimsical world of drop shipping!

[primatechnosynthpop]

The broken promise of a broken swordsman

It was a sunny day in the kingdom of Tokyo—maybe a little too sunny for such an important day, when a noble hero and his trusted companion were about to embark on a potentially dangerous mission. Rain would have been more dramatic, or at least some dark clouds. When was there ever an epic tale that began on such a nice, sunny day? It was always a dark and stormy night (as clichéd as it may have been), not a bright and cheerful morning.

At least there was a bit of thematically appropriate shade in the forest where Hiro and Ando were doing a bit of training before embarking on what would be their first proper quest. The last-minute training session had been Ando's idea—a few of his spells still needed a fair bit of work. Hiro, who was currently sitting on a tree stump watching his friend try and fail repeatedly to cast a Thunderbolt spell, swung his stubby gnomish legs back and forth impatiently. It was early in the day, so it wasn't like they had to worry about getting anywhere before sundown, but Hiro still wanted them to get out there as soon as possible. It was just a simple escort mission, anyway—they could handle it!

Besides, Hiro realized, he'd seen Ando cast Thunderbolt successfully plenty of times before. Why was he performing so poorly now all of a sudden?

Hopping off the tree stump, Hiro made his way over to where his friend was charging up another spell. Red sparks of electricity were starting to gather at the end of his wand, but they fizzled out as quickly as they formed. Ando's tail lashed in frustration, but he furrowed his brow and kept on trying.

"Can we go soon?" Hiro asked for probably about the twelfth time that morning. "Our client is going to be departing soon, and if we're not ready by then, they'll find somebody else to escort them. And I really want to go on this mission," he added with a little pout.

"Soon, soon... just let me try one more time to get this spell right," Ando said, also definitely not for the first time that day. "If we get attacked on the way and I'm not able to defend the client—"

"...Then I'll protect the both of you," Hiro reminded him, shifting his weight to draw attention to the katana strapped to his back. Since the sword was fashioned to be held by a human or similar-sized creature—in fact, it was rumoured to have once been used by the legendary elven warrior Takezo Kensei—the weapon in question was a little unwieldly in Hiro's hands, but he was a skilled enough fighter to put it to good use. "That's what I became a protection fighter for, remember? To make sure you stay safe if your spells fail!"

Ando sighed, but a smile crept onto his face nonetheless. "Yeah, and I became a wizard so that I could stop you from rushing into combat alone," he recalled. He leaned down to ruffle Hiro's hair, which prompted Hiro's ears to perk up like those of a dog being petted. Hiro's cheeks coloured at the involuntary reaction. He figured elves must have had it even worse, since their ears were about twice as long and pointed as those of a gnome.

"Seriously, though," Hiro said, lowering Ando's hand from his head and giving it a reaffirming squeeze. "You know I'll always protect you, right?"

It was his job as a protection fighter and the so-called "tank" of the "team" which consisted of only the two of them, but more so than that, it was the right thing to do. The two of them had been together since childhood, and Ando had always been such an integral part of Hiro's life that Hiro couldn't even imagine life without him. Because of that, he had to keep Ando safe whenever they got into a dangerous situation—losing him was something too awful to even think about.

-FIVE YEARS LATER-

A flurry of arrows filled the sky overhead as the ragtag gang of battle-hardened adventurers ran for cover in the thick of the woods. Those with dull eyes may not have been able to make them out against the blackness of the night, as they all donned black and dark gray garments to blend in. While their attackers, who were perched up in the trees and each armed with bows and a plentiful supply of arrows, focused on the group running below them, they failed to notice the diminutive figure approaching from behind, leaping from tree to tree with their blade at the ready. The archers wore silver-blue cloaks emblazoned with the crest of the Petrelli clan—most of them probably thought that the ruler of the land truly was the half-elven warlock Nathan Petrelli.

As he crept up behind one of these clueless men clad in the colours of a long-gone kingdom, the sword-bearing figure almost wanted to laugh at the sheer idiocy of it all. Nathan had been slain long ago; if these fools knew the true identity of the man they swore allegiance to, they'd have despised him as much as any of these "terrorists" they were now firing at.

Well, whatever these goons knew or didn't know about their precious king, the only thing that mattered was that they were on the enemy side. Without hesitation, the swordsman brought his blade down on the nearest archer, killing him before he could see what hit him. As the first slumped over lifelessly, one of his companions jerked her head up in alarm and glanced around frantically, scanning the trees for someone she'd never find. He was already gone, reappearing behind a cluster of three other archers who he made equally quick work of.

Now he'd gotten the attention of the whole lot. Good, he thought with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Exactly according to plan. Picking off a few archers provided a distraction which would buy his allies time to get away, and he didn't have to worry about getting caught.

After all, Hiro was a hard gnome to catch.

Back on the ground, the magical barrier which had been protecting the group fizzled out. No sooner had the protection dropped than a well-aimed arrow found its mark in the back of a young halfling girl. She stumbled but kept running until a second arrow hit her in the back of the head. The halfling tumbled to the ground, where she clearly wouldn't be getting up from again. In the lead of the group, a half-elf with hair that hung over his eyes glanced over his shoulder with a grimace and stopped running for a second. He looked like he wanted to go back for the dead halfling, but an orc woman with long blonde hair grabbed his wrist and tugged him along.

"Peter, c'mon," she growled when the half-elf resisted. "You know she'll be fine."

"...Right." Swallowing and steadying his gaze ahead of him, Peter held out a tattered, bloodstained bible and shouted, "I cast Shield of Faith!"

A moment later, the shield which had been protecting the group returned, just as a spectral figure rose from the fallen halfling's body. The figure, clad in a robe resembling a high school cheerleader's outfit, shook its head as though to let down its spectral hair.

"All right," Claire said, her skull-like features stretching into a grin. "Now that that's over with, I may as well get a couple hits in."

Rising through a sea of arrows which passed through her lich form like she was mist, Claire grabbed a dagger off her dead physical body and prepared to throw it at the nearest attacker. Her lich form crackled with bolts of bright red electricity. At the sight of the red lightning—though he'd seen it many times before—Hiro suppressed a shudder. It was so reminiscent of the spells he used to cast... No. Hiro shook his head, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword. This was no time to get sentimental about the past. He had to focus on getting himself and his compatriots out of the literal and proverbial woods alive—or, in Claire's case, undead.

However, when she threw her dagger, her target—a dragonborn man who it was hard to believe had once been a paladin—caught the dagger in the air. His eyes narrowed into slits and he tilted his head in concentration, tightening his grip around the long wooden staff in his right hand. A moment later, he spun around to where Hiro was preparing to strike again. Hiro brought his sword down, but the dragonborn blocked it with his staff and pushed him back a couple centimetres.

The dragonborn (what was the name again—Parkman?) bared his fangs. "You know I don't want to do this, Hiro," he said. "They're forcing me to work for them. They'll kill my mate and offspring if I don't."

"None of us have a choice," Hiro told him. "You have no more excuse than the rest of us."

Drawing his blade back, he slashed Matt across the leg and lifted his blade to the dragonborn's throat. However, before he could make the kill, a bright white beam shot up from the ground, knocking Hiro's blade out of his hand. Hiro glanced down to find that the caster was none other than the drow alchemist Mohinder, who was holding out his wand with a trembling hand.

"I—I'm sorry," Mohinder said when Hiro fixed him with an incredulous glare. "Just... please let that one live, will you? I..."

Hissing, Matt retreated into the canopy; Mohinder sighed and turned to rejoin the pack of renegades. They were nearly out of the archers' range now, and if the shield of faith held up for just a minute longer, they'd be home safe.

Unfortunately, Peter's spell was wavering again. The cleric's brow furrowed in concentration and effort, hand hovering over the pages of his bible, as he ran. By his side, the orc—Niki—was caught in the shoulder by a stray arrow that found its way through a gap in the shield. Roaring, Niki ripped the arrow out of her shoulder and snapped it in two, picking up the pace of her already impressive charge. When Peter continued to slow down, she circled back, grabbed him in a sort of clumsy bridal carry, and kept running forward, taking up the lead of the group.

"Th—thanks," Peter huffed. Placing his hand on Niki's shoulder where the arrow had hit her, he asked, "D...do you want me to heal that?"

"It can wait," Niki said, shrugging off Peter's hand. "Look, I can almost see the edge of the woods from here."

The edge of the woods in question was a very sudden transition from twisting, ancient oaks to a few younger trees—all of them, of course, from five years ago or less—mixed with the charred remains of other old trees. From then it was still all ash; ash as far as the eye could see save for the memorial up on the hill where the royalty and nobility of New York had once resided. Well, that wasn't entirely true—they were starting to rebuild New York City now, starting what had once been the kingdom’s most prosperous city over from scratch. Hiro didn't see the point to any of it. No matter how many buildings and streets were reconstructed, it wouldn't bring back any of the lives that had been lost.

It certainly wouldn't bring back that particular person, who Hiro tried so hard not to think about for fear that he'd break down crying, but who kept slipping back into his thoughts anyway. Every time Hiro met a tiefling, he froze up for just a second, his breath catching in his throat—to say nothing of if the tiefling in question happened to be a wizard. It was stupid to keep fooling himself like that, he knew. No matter how many tiefling wizards he crossed paths with, none of them were Ando. It would never, could never be Ando.

*

Once he had taken care of a few more archers for good measure—the fewer left to report back to the king (who wasn't really Nathan) the better—Hiro joined up with his fellow renegades in their stronghold: a cave at the edges of the ruins of New York City where a bard named Isaac had once lived. There, his companions were recuperating from their narrow escape and discussing what to do next.

"We've got to go back into the forest and collect my body," Claire was saying, glancing down at her lich form disdainfully. "If Nathan's men get ahold of it, who knows what they'll do."

"Not Nathan's men," Peter reminded her. "We don't know who the king really is yet, but it's not my brother."

"Whoever the ruler is, if we can all agree it's not Nathan, we should try to kill him," Niki said. "I can sneak into the palace as a servant and win his affections, and then assassinate him when he lets his guard down."

Peter, who was currently dressing the arrow wound Niki had sustained on her shoulder, bit his lip and gave his head a slight shake. "I couldn't put you at risk like that," he said. "Besides, the nobility knows who we are—you know that."

"We do need to kill him," Hiro affirmed. "But it won't be easy."

(He didn't want to admit it here, but he had tried a couple times himself to singlehandedly kill the man masquerading as Nathan Petrelli. He'd been met with an onslaught of spells that he'd barely been able to dodge, even with his Teleport spell.)

"You're right; I do know." Sighing, Niki drew her knees up to her chest and leaned her head back against the cave wall. The wall glistened with moisture, reflecting Niki's image back at her; the reflection did not move any differently from herself. "I just want him dead so badly—I want everyone who was responsible for this dead."

"You know who I want dead?" Claire put in. "Not me, that's freaking who! I am so sick of getting killed all the time!"

In the corner of the cave, a human man by the name of Noah Bennet let out a long sigh. He took off his pair of horn-rimmed glasses, which were enchanted to give the wearer Truesight, to rub his temples, before sliding them back on.

"None of us enjoy it," he said. "I can't tell you how much I hate seeing you as a lich. I’m just glad you are one so I don’t have to permanently lose you.”

Just then, Mohinder stepped out from a tunnel which led down to his father's underground laboratory. He'd dug the tunnel out himself to give himself easy access to the lab when he needed to use his alchemy for something. "Good news, Claire," he said, wiping his hands off on his lab coat. "Your new body will be ready in just under a fortnight."

"How many extra bodies for me have you got on the go?" Peter asked—he was a lich as well, and he and his niece both died on such a regular basis that Mohinder was constantly being forced to clone new bodies for them.

"None at the moment," Mohinder admitted. "But I still have a sample of your DNA that I can use left over from the last time."

As he watched from his cross-legged perch on a jutting rock shelf, Hiro harrumphed slightly at Mohinder's nonchalance. They all owed a lot to the alchemist, so it was best not to get on his bad side—if a bad side was even something he had—but Hiro couldn't quell his annoyance at Mohinder for letting Matt get away. He knew they'd been close once, so it was perfectly understandable that it would be difficult, but it hadn't even been the first time. Really, Mohinder was the only one in their group who hadn't suffered any great losses since the destruction of New York, so many moons ago.

Some of us, Hiro thought with a pang of envy, have lost everything. He thought again of his old travelling companion; of bright red sparks crackling at the ends of slender, clawed fingertips. He knew it wasn't healthy to be so lost in the past, but... Massaging his temples, Hiro sighed and slumped down a bit. He just couldn't let go, not now, not ever. He had promised Ando, on the day of their first mission, to protect him. He had failed. Every unlawful action he took now, every life he took without thought, seemed to pale in comparison to that grave wrongdoing.

"Excuse me," he spoke up, hopping off his ledge. "I'd like to be alone for a bit, if you don't mind."

"Oh, go ahead," Peter said with an understanding nod. He was really the only member of the group who really tried to be "close" with any of the others; it was something that everyone else could appreciate, even if it sometimes seemed like an act he put on to seem more like his former self. "I think we can all use a bit of rest after that raid."

At least the raid had been successful this time, he didn't say, but it was a thought that hung heavy in the room enough for anyone to know he was thinking it. There had been so many raids before which had ended only in misery with no gain to show for it. This time, they had successfully located Sylar's phylactery—an old snowglobe—although the dark mage himself remained in hiding. Destroying it would be another question, but for now nobody wanted anything other than to relax for as long as they could before somebody inevitably came after them.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Hiro squeezed his eyes shut and cast Blink. When he reopened his eyes, the world was monochrome, and he knew he'd just gone invisible to everyone else on his particular plane of existence. This was what he meant when he said he wanted to be alone, even though his Teleport spell could take him anywhere. Being truly isolated was a dangerous move for an infamous outlaw—not that he prided himself in that status; no, his past self would have been positively ashamed and he knew it. However, the fact remained that every individual with extraordinary abilities had a price on their collective heads, and there were more wanted posters tacked up in taverns and on trees of Hiro than of anyone else. The safest way to be alone with his thoughts for a while was to simply go to another plane, and while that may have been pitiable to some, it couldn't have been further from the saddest thing about his existence.

Hiro paced back and forth along the innermost wall of the cave, passing through the black-and-white outlines of his compatriots as though they were all spectral. The floor of the cave was littered with yellowed pages of music notes. Some of them had lyrics—lyrics which spoke of now all-too-familiar events. His lip curled at the sight of a yellowed scrap of parchment with a couple passages which carried with them memories of a lighter time:

"On a quest/ With his best friend/ And they won't rest/ And it won't end/ They know they can't turn away from this fight!

It's how they roll/ But soon things go/ Out of control/ But still they know/ They're always gonna be alright!"

It was an insipid little ditty that had kept his spirits up on the road when the going had gotten tough, and he really had believed that last line. There was magic in a bard's song, and Hiro had known that, even back in the days when he'd been nothing more than a protection fighter with no clue how to cast a spell. Hell, the only reason he was a spellcaster now was because he'd inherited an old wand which was still in good condition—that he'd kept in good condition, because he had to keep it in good condition, because it was all he had left of its former user.

While he paced the far wall of the cave, obscured by shadows even though he'd already be invisible to those outside his plane, he could have sworn he heard footsteps coming from outside. Maybe he'd just been imagining it, but—no, he could hear voices now, which meant that either he was finally losing his grip on reality or he wasn't alone. Ears pricking in alarm, Hiro placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and kept it at the ready. He didn't think that any of the king's men could use Blink, but it wasn't impossible, and if someone had found him... Well, if that was the case, then that person would shortly reappear on the prime material plane as a dead body.

However, when he drew his blade and stepped out of the shadows to face the potential threat, he did not find people clad in silver-blue robes, with their own weapons drawn and at the ready. Instead, what he saw were two men clad in well-kempt adventuring gear—too well-kempt for somebody living in these parts. They each looked to be—at least in human terms—in their twenties. They were slightly obscured by the murk of the cave, and they looked so incredibly out-of-place that it took Hiro a moment to recognize them even when he stepped into the light. When he did, all three of them froze in place, exchanging glances of shock and astonishment.

One of them, who had gone far more overboard on the adventuring gear, was a gnome carrying a sword strapped to his back. Save for a few nicks and a bit of lost sheen, it was the exact same sword that Hiro held now. His hair hung over his pointed ears, which were flattened against his head as he clung at the leg of his companion—a tiefling, whose wizard hat had two holes on either side to accommodate for his long red horns.

They were faces which Hiro had not been expecting to see again in his lifetime, and for seeing them now, he wasn't sure whether to bless the gods or curse whatever demon was responsible for this.

"You," he hissed, tightening his grip on his katana as he stared down his former self.

The target of his icy stare returned the gaze with wide, disbelieving eyes. "...Me?"

[merakiui]

A Leaf Swept up in an Autumnal Breeze

yandere!kaedehara kazuha x (gender neutral) reader art credit - Tourou_7 on twt cw: yandere, unhealthy/obsessive behaviors, slight nsfw implications/thoughts, alcohol consumption, intoxication, spoilers for kazuha’s character story + inazuma lore note - i decided to write something short for kazuha as i analyze what we know so far of his character. hopefully the characterization isn’t too off! please enjoy nonetheless! orz

The moonlight casts its thin rays upon the calm, motionless sea. In the distance, fish surface and their movements are captured in the ripples that expand in the water, a minor blip in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the dark night. As if a god has taken a brush to the sky, utilizing its inky vastness as a canvas, the stars have been drawn in small specks—winking down at those who sleep underneath a blanket of natural light.

And you are caught up in the glorious shimmer, grinning widely as Beidou wraps her arm around you, pulling you against her as if the two of you have known each other for years. In reality, it’s only been a few months since you were discovered on her ship: a hidden stowaway with your Vision clutched in your hands and raw resolve etched into your body in the form of bruises and old scars. You’re a fighter and yet you also ran from something. Kazuha can’t quite tell what it is you’ve escaped. Whether it’s another person, a group of people, or even an entire nation, he’s certain it’s worthy of the risks that come with fleeing.

Your Vision shines brightly, a stark contrast to the dark color scheme of your clothes. He tries to place a nation to your outfit and comes up empty, his thoughts returning to Inazuma as though it’s the only place he can think of. And he supposes that’s true. The situation in Inazuma has clouded his mind with its strange fog, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of his brain. Though he can dwell upon the past and the mistakes that led up to the downfall of a precious friend, he knows there is no use for such somber reflections during a happy celebration. Life moves on, as the common saying goes, and he cannot allow himself to remain trapped in the past.

During moments such as these, where he relives the horrible memory in vivid detail, you are a sweet balm that soothes the sting of loss. Even when you’re struggling to stand, face hot from the intoxication of good drinks in even better company, you’re a wondrous presence who chases away his doubts and worries.

Unknowingly, you cast a temporary shroud over those matters and he’s put at ease the minute you extend your arm in his direction.

“Kazuha! Come over here. Let’s dance!”

A hiccup interrupts your jovial giggle and Beidou chuckles before throwing her head back to drink what’s left in her flask. The aura of her ship is beyond lively. Men and women alike celebrate another successful week with drinks, harrowing tales of past heroes, and broken ballads sang in drunken tones. He can’t help the smile that sprouts on his lips. You’re such an outgoing person, always wanting to include him in your daily activities. And though he politely declines whenever you offer him alcohol, he has wondered what the appeal could possibly be.

Perhaps it’s the idea of losing your sensibility for one night, ignoring all reason for the sake of spending pleasurable moments in the confines of a warm bed, wrapped snugly in a lover’s embrace. Such instances are lost to intoxicating pleasure—buried under a hazy recollection come morning. But you haven’t done that sort of thing. Kazuha would know. He listens in while you’re relaxing—while you’re bathing and going about life on the ship without a care in the world—and his head runs wild with all sorts of fantasies. Fantasies he never would have imagined had he not met you.

To think you were just a mere stowaway, a trespasser who had snuck onto the ship and hid in the darkest corner, obscured by crates and chests. And he had pulled those crates aside in search of a few ingredients and his eyes met yours and you held your finger to your lips—a silent urge to keep quiet—and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a special meeting between two, which will remain locked away in his heart for all of eternity. A memory he regards with warm fondness. After much negotiation and a disarming conversation, you were soon welcomed with open arms as Beidou practically offered you to join her crew. You had nowhere else to go—no one else to see or protect—and so you agreed. And Kazuha felt a relief he hasn’t felt in a while, the sort of emotion that stems from almost losing something important.

The pure relief that comes and goes once he realizes you’re a missing piece in the puzzle of his life.

“You’ll trip,” he warns, pushing off from the side of the ship and walking over to you and Beidou. “It wouldn’t be wise to dance in your inebriated state. Surely you’re aware of this, no?”

“I can hold my alcohol.” Your wavering glare doesn’t reach him. “Don’t... Don’t think otherwise or else I’ll—ah!”

The majority of Beidou’s weight burdens your shoulders and you nearly almost crumble.

“You—“ she searches for a means to steady herself— “worry too much,” the captain adds, nodding in agreement to an unspoken statement. “It’ll be okay! Live a little while you’re still young.”

Kazuha sighs and easily slips between the two of you, hooking his arm around Beidou’s waist as he guides her to a barrel. The scent of alcohol kisses the air, clinging to your clothes and breath like an oversaturated perfume. Once she’s sat down, now fully determined to get the last few drops from out of the flask, the rōnin turns to you. He’s caught by surprise when your hands grasp his, your eager expression stabbing his heart with a dozen pins. He’s rooted to the floorboards, unable to look away when your face is dangerously close to his.

“You heard the captain,” you tease in a slurred voice. “Live a little.”

And he does. Or he thinks he does. Having traveled with Beidou, this is the current life he’s come to know and appreciate. But is it truly living if he feels unfulfilled in the process? To find a means for bringing back the familiar glow in a lonely Vision. To secure peace of mind and put his rowdy thoughts to rest. To one day return to the nation he was forced to flee, with you in tow. Are all of these things necessary in order to fill the gaping void in his damaged heart? Kazuha wonders if you also came from Inazuma. Perhaps you wouldn’t be so surprised to see the scenery if he were to take you there. Not now, of course. Sometime in the future, if such a future holds a changed Inazuma.

“I’m going to warn you now,” he mumbles, his fingers ghosting over your waist, “I’m not what one would call a dancer of skillful grace.”

“I don’t think that’s true, dear Kazuha.”

He blinks once and then releases a short laugh at the endearing term. “If you say so.”

“Enough talk.” You huff and pull him into your chest and he feels as though he could stay locked in this position for millennia. “Dance with me before...” A stilted pause as you nearly forget your sentence. “Before I turn in for the night. That’s it.”

Or before you get sick, he thinks, not so cheerful about the inevitable mess. But he’ll tolerate it because you’ve tolerated him. You never pry into his past, nor do you force him to answer personal questions regarding Inazuma and the Raiden Shogun. If you ever notice the way he lingers near your quarters, you don’t say a word. And if you hear his subdued moans as his hand moves in time with a picturesque fantasy of your nude form pressed against his, you keep your mouth shut. You are everything he could ever want and like the very ideal the Raiden Shogun wishes to uphold he wants to pursue an eternity with you.

Your movements are far from the precision you normally have when moving about the ship and it’s a very odd dance. Yet you spin him and he follows your unusual lead like an animal with tunnel vision. For a taut moment, the background noise melts away into obscurity and the two of you are the only people in existence. He stares at your face the entire time, ignoring the way your sandals crush his feet or the instances where he unintentionally returns the gesture. It’s certainly an awkward sort of waltz, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And in this moment where no one else matters, he sees your radiance in the glow of the moon. You truly are worthy of the sun and the stars beyond and should you verbalize an outlandish wish of that nature he has no choice but to follow through.

Like a leaf swept up in an autumnal breeze, reminiscent of a ronin who lacks a place in the world, Kazuha allows himself to be carried on by the winds that rustle the sails and tangle through your hair, painting you in a backdrop that’s heaven handcrafted by the pickiest god. And where you have your wits, a lively Vision, and your confidence, he only has his blade, a dull Vision, and an inkling of hope. But that’s really all he requires.

[beels-burger-babe]

All is Fair in Dice and War

***Soooo, @bagelsinatoaster I love this request. However, you didn't specify which board game and as I am a huge nerd I decided to take some creative liberties and combine this with another idea I've been meaning to write which is: MC introducing the demon bros to Dungeons and Dragons. I certainly had fun with this and I hope you like it!*** Summary: Leviathan's world is flipped upside down when MC tells him there is a game that basically allows him to be the Lord of Shadows in real life!! He demands that his brothers join him as MC introduces them all to the chaotic shit show that is Dungeons & Dragons. For once, it was a peaceful day in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer was lounging in the living room with a cursed record playing softly in the background. For once, Satan had willingly joined him and was sitting by the fireplace, thumbing through a book on the human world. Belphie had been passed out on the couch when he arrived and was still laying there with an impressive puddle of drool collecting near his mouth. Even Asmodeus and Beel had joined in, with Asmodeus gently humming to himself as he painted his nails and Beelzebub happily munching on a snack as he enjoyed the sight of his family getting along. Yes. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful, and Lucifer didn't even have any traces of his regular migraine. But of course, nothing good lasts forever. Everyone jumped as the door slammed open and a wide-eyed Leviathan dragged you into the room. The two you very closely followed by Mammon loudly complaining. "Oi! You're gonna hurt them! Cut it out, Levi!" Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, momentarily mourning the peace that he had just barely begun to enjoy, and closed his book. "Leviathan, let MC go. What are you freaking out about this time?" Lucifer regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. Levi looked at it with the expression he only ever got when his limited edition Ruri-Chan merch arrived; his eyes were wide and glittering with excitement while his face bore a grin so large that Lucifer was surprised it didn't rip his skin. The third-born was practically vibrating as he let go of your wrist and pushed you forward. "Tell them! Tell them about the game!"

You laughed at Levi's excitement and casually rubbed your wrist. "I was just telling Leviathan about a game that we play in the human world called Dungeons and Dragons-" "You get to make a fantasy world that everyone plays in, and everyone makes characters. You can be a wizard and cast spells against a huge monster! Or a war hero fighter that has been betrayed by his brother! Or a noble knight who is looking for his lost kingdom! And the best part is that it's real!" Levi interrupted, nearly jumping in place as stars danced in his eyes. You put your hands out towards him to try and calm him a bit. "Well, not entirely real. It is played in person, but it's a role play tabletop game, meaning it mostly relies on the players' imagination. That is unless you have thousands of dollars to spend on 3D maps and figurines of your characters." Levi's eyes grew even wider, if possible, as he started shaking his hands up and down. "I CAN HAVE A FIGURINE OF A CHARACTER THAT I MADE?! GAAAAAAAAAHH!" A pillow flew across the room and hit Levi square in the face as a now awake Belphegor glared at him. "Will. You. Shut. Up?" the Avatar of Sloth hissed as a dark dangerous aura grew around him. Beel gently patted his twin's head in hopes of calming him. Leviathan pouted as he noticed no one else seemed to be getting excited about it. "C-Come on guys! This isn't even a video game! It's a thing that we can all do together and personalize it to be something that everyone will like. It'll be fun! Right MC?" You nodded as you gently tossed Belphie's pillow back over to him. "Yeah. I love D&D. I played it all the time in the human world. There's action, suspense, and even romance if you really wanted it," a couple of the brothers perked up at that. "I could put together a one-shot for you guys to try it out if you'd like? I'll help you make your characters, and we can all get together for an evening and play it sometime in a couple weeks." The room went quiet as everyone thought it over. Most of them had no interest in the game itself, but if it was organized by you... "I'm in," Beel decided with a nod. "I think it will be fun. All of us trying something new; it could be neat." Satan casually flipped a page in his book, "The creative aspect of it is definitely appealing. We'd be the masters of our own fate, and that most certainly piques my interest." Asmodeus smirked as he put the cap on his nail polish. "And you said it could be whatever we want? My, one might say that this game could help our wildest fantasies come true~" he made sure to wink at you as he giggled. Belphie, who had only just got back his pillow, scrunched up his face in disgust and launched it at Asmo. "Don't make this weird Asmo," he looked over at you and shrugged, "So long as you do all the work in putting together the character thing, sure. Why not?" Mammon looked over at you from the corner of his eye. "Ya mean to tell me, that you can make it so I'm some awesome, rich, and powerful prince?" Asmo scoffed as he pushed the pillow off his lap. "Please Mammon, even the world of make-believe has its limitations." Mammon blushed as he growled at his brother. You just chuckled and teasingly elbowed his side. "Don't listen to him, Mammon. There is a set amount of how much money you start out with depending on your class and background, but I'm sure we can find something that will make you happy." The second-born blushed even more as he grumbled quietly under his breath. Lucifer tilted his head in thought. "I suppose that if everyone else is playing, naturally I must as well," he stood and began to make his way to his office. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with MC." The next two weeks were spent planning and carefully figuring out the details of the one-shot and the characters that everyone was going to play. Levi was, of course, the first one who came to you to build his character. The two of you spent hours going through the Player's Handbook and sourcebooks to find the perfect build to recreate the Lord of Shadows. In the end, you put

together a human fighter that you gave a couple magic items to make Levi's vision really come to life. It seemed basic, but for the Lord of Shadows, it was perfect. The moment the two of you finished, Levi dove to his computer and ordered a custom-made mini that looked exactly like his character. Satan was genuinely interested in the game, especially after he learned about all the lore and rules behind the different classes and races. You had just been chilling in your room one day when the door burst open. Satan stood there with wide eyes holding a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters. "MC, why didn't you tell me there are cat people?!" You chuckled, knowing exactly where this was going. "They're called tabaxi, but yeah, they're basically cat people. Would you like to play as one?" He scoffed and snapped the book shut. "Is that even a question? Of course, I'm playing as one." After some discussion and bouncing back and forth between classes a couple of times, Satan settled on a tabaxi druid; that way he not only looked like a cat, but he could speak to them as well. After a few days of you spending time with his brothers focusing on getting their characters ready, Mammon came to you wanting the coolest, most epic character ever. At first, it was clear that he wasn't fully invested in the process, but as he saw the customizable options and all the cool stuff that his character could have, you got his attention. You ended up designing a golden teifling rogue (you tried to tell Mammon that teifling usually wasn't yellow, but he gave you such a sad look that you couldn't say no) that was decked out with piercings and gems all over its horns and tail. He tried to act like he wasn't that excited about it, but one day during class you caught him doodling what looked like a stick figure version of the character on his sheet with a big smile on his face. Asmodeus came in shortly after Mammon finished,

insisting on having the most charming and beautiful character there was. You tapped your chin at the request. "I mean, stereotypically bards are extremely charming and...well seductive...almost too seductive. But that's only thei-" Asmo had hearts in his eyes before you could even finish. "That's what I want to be!" You sighed and made a mental note not to include any dragons in the session as you marked Asmo down to be an elven bard and helped him create his character sheet. You hadn't heard anything from Lucifer for nearly that entire first week, until one day as you were lounging in the living room, he walked in holding a stack of resource books. "Ah, MC. I've been looking for you. I wanted to inform you that I will be playing a half-elf multiclassing as a paladin and hex-blade warlock." You blinked at him as he put all the books down in front of you. "O-Oh. Would you like help putting together your character sheet?" He just grinned and began to make his way out of the room once more. "I've already done it. I must admit that this was quite a bit more interesting than I thought it would be," and with that he was gone, leaving you to try and figure out what had just happened. With only a few days left until the one-shot, you had to go find the twins and get them to make their characters. Beel apologized like crazy for you having to track him in down in order to get his character made. The poor guy was in the middle of peak Fangol season and had completely forgotten. Once the two of you sat down in the kitchen with an empty character sheet in one hand and snacks in the other, Beel gave you his full attention. He put a lot of thought in his character and wanted to make it really good since he appreciated that you were doing something that they could all do as a family. He bashfully decided to play a halfling. Not only did the little creatures share his love for food, but he thought it would be neat to try being small for once. His class was also a surprise. After carefully flipping through all of the class options, he had eventually settled on a cleric. "They're the healers, right? This way I can help the others if someone gets hurt." You gave him a huge hug then and there. Belphegore, on the other hand, was not so easy to work with. "Belphie, come on. Just flip through the book and choose something!" He groaned into his pillow and rolled onto his side to glare at you. "I told you I would play if you did all the work for me. Me flipping through a book is work. It's not happening." After an entire hour of trying to get him to cooperate, you gave up. In retaliation you made his character a goblin barbarian, just to drive in the fact of how much of a brat he was acting like.

Finally, the day came for you all to play the one-shot, and much like you expected, it was complete and utter chaos. You had tried to maintain some structure and keep everyone on track, but it was hopeless. Levi and Satan were taking the game seriously and, Diavolo bless them, were the only reason their party was making any progress. Mammon was trying to pick-pocket every non-player character that they met while Asmo distracted them by flirting. This worked great for them until Mammon got caught and would've died from the resulting injuries if it wasn't for Beel. Speaking of Beel, the poor fella was trying his best to do well in the game but kept getting confused by all the rules and different stats and modifiers. Belphegor spent most of his time, trying to explain it to his twin, but in the end, Beel accidentally ate his dice and Belphie passed out on his shoulder. And then there was Lucifer. He had been mostly quiet the entire game. Surprisingly, he let Levi and Satan take the charge in any investigations and puzzle-based interactions, but he did so with a smirk. You had a funny feeling in your stomach that he was up to something, and you were right. It was the final boss. Satan and Levi were on the edge of their seats, having worked so hard to get the party to this point. You smiled, knowing that one of the best parts of D&D was finally taking down the big bad. In this case, you had prepared a beholder for them to fight. It would be no easy task. The fight should have required them to work together in an epic battle of wits, magic and melee attacks. Only, when everyone rolled initiative, Lucifer went first. The eldest smiled as his eyes sparked menacingly. "For my bonus action, I'd like to use my hex blade's curse on it, which allows me to add my plus four proficiency bonus to all damage, and makes any rolls of nineteen or twenty critical hits. I will then use my long sword with divine smite at third level to attack him and attack him again using my extra attack," barely giving you time to process what he said, Lucifer rolled his dice twice. "And that would be a nineteen and a natural twenty, meaning they're both criticals due to the curse. That should hit, yes?" "Wha-" You could only watch as Lucifer, now with twice the amount of damage due to his critical rolls pulled out a disgusting number of dice and rolled them all. And of course, with his luck, they all rolled high. "So that's 90 points of damage plus the extra damage from the curse and the bonus from my duelist ability per attack, brings this 102 points," he smugly perched his chin on top of his hands as the table gaped at him. You gulped and looked down at the beholder's character sheet, "Y-You just took o-over half of his hit points in one round..." His grin widened at the information, "What, like it's hard?" You never got the chance to finish the game, as Satan burst into his demon form and pounced on Lucifer, the eldest laughing like a mad man, while Levi tore up his character sheet in a fit of jealous rage. Levi never asked to play with everyone again after that. ***This was just so self-indulgent and I just- I loved it. It combined two of my favourite things and I have never been happier. This was more crack than fluff, but either way, it was fun and I hope you nerds out there enjoyed it 🥰 Thanks again for the request @bagelsinatoaster!*** Taglist: @mimik248 @roseytoesy @ester-is-here

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[xiaonesis]

ash to ash, dust to stardust

Genshin Impact || Albedo x Reader [Arrow One]

Summary:

The people talk of the Moon Thief as if they are an entity of legend, born of shadows and the empty unknown; a silhouette at your back and a whisper on the hair of your neck, a ghost that sails unseen through walls and sight.

A phantom.

None of it matters to Albedo because he knows it is silly. These unfounded rumors, flash news, and idle gossip are but the jarring crusts and clouded crystals that shroud the truth that the Moon Thief is nothing but a human.A solid person who can be caught.

“Another one?”

“A clean job. No fingerprints, no traces. Nothing. Like a ghost came and went.”

“Wasn't it supposed to be unbreachable?”

“Well, it was.” A pause. “Until now.”

“How many thefts does this make?”

“Does it matter? The police aren’t going to be able to stop this one either.”

“The police are useless.”

“I hear this time they’re bringing in the specialists. The best of the best. The cream of the crop! Guess the bigshots up there are finally getting serious about catching the Moon Thief.”

“What are ya’ talkin’ about you twit?”

“You didn’t hear? They’re handing the case to–”

-----

Albedo surveys the museum hall, the heels of his shoes clicking on marble floors that are polished so well he can see the star that adorns his neck twinkling back at him.

Rows of precious artifacts, exquisite jewelries, and grand paintings line the length of the wide hall, displaying to all who travel from near and far to come see them but a glimpse of their value and history through protective casings.

Yet none of these compare to the highlight of the museum’s collection.

The Necklace of Vega.

A masterwork necklace, featuring a 69.13 vivid amber diamond that dangles from a string of white diamonds and precious gems. It is said that once upon a time, the necklace decorated the neck of a celestial maiden, a gift from her mortal lover, Altair.

It’s all silly to Albedo, of course. How did Altair, supposedly a plain blacksmith, come by such a precious gem in the first place? Still, people love stories; grand tales of romance and adventure where the hero and his companions overcome all adversaries, be it a great evil or preordained fate.

None of that matters to Albedo. What matters most to him are truths: indisputable facts, hard numbers, and veritable results. Everything else is earth and stone riddled with impurities that serve to hide the brilliant truth at its core.

The people talk of the Moon Thief as if they are an entity of legend, born of shadows and the empty unknown; a silhouette at your back and a whisper on the hair of your neck, a ghost that sails unseen through walls and sight.

A phantom.

None of it matters to Albedo because he knows it is silly. These unfounded rumors, flash news, and idle gossip are but the jarring crusts and clouded crystals that shroud the truth that the Moon Thief is nothing but a human.

A solid person who can be caught.

Albedo picks up the arrow that lies on the plush cushion where an indent, much too heavy for an arrow, is still fresh. The shaft of the arrow, crafted from exquisite Yumemiru wood, glints with an impish smirk in the moonlight. Its fletching of white weathers glow with silverlight, illuminating the crescent moon carved into the nock.

The trademark of the Moon Thief.

A calling card. An arrow, in this particular case.

With each successful theft, this deceivingly light arrow made of dreams and elegant wood that has spawned countless merchandise and fueled the fantasies of the masses is left behind. It is a mocking smile that greets its victim at night’s end, real as a true arrow to the heart that their most prized possession is gone.

The Moon Thief has danced around authorities long enough that they’re finally bringing in the Knights of Favonius’ Captain of the Investigation Team, Albedo, into play. In other words, they have antagonized enough important people that they’re now considered a threat; to the upper class anyways.

In all honesty, this entire thing is a vexing thorn in his side that cuts into his valuable time for research. The best thing Albedo can and will do is to catch the Moon Thief as fast as possible, so that he may return to matters that actually interest him and worthy of his attention. He prefers not to spend too much time on a petty criminal running high on the fervor imaginations of the public.

Footsteps approach from behind and Albedo addresses them without turning.

“Sucrose, make sure the perimeters are properly secured. Have her receive the floor plans from the museum director whilst you–” he begins instructing his assistant, Sucrose, and her assistant but stops when he finally looks to see that only Sucrose is there.

You, her assistant, are not.

“Ah, Mr.Albedo, sorry, she’s not here right now but I can do it!”

You’re not here yet? The call was given out at least half an hour ago. “Where is she?”

“She said she’s running late but will be arriving soon…traffic, I think.”

Albedo sighs imperceptibly. He’s not entirely sure why they hired you as Sucrose's assistant sometimes but that is a problem for another day.

Right now, he has a thief to catch.

[scaip]

When villainesses take the lead

We are the generation that grew up watching shows such as Digimon, Inuyasha and The Vision of Escaflowne. There is something attractive about works that involve journeys to other worlds with fantastical settings and exciting adventures. Let’s say, you have your normal fantastical plot: a common person falls into another world. There, they may develop or discover the possession of magical powers, live lots of magical occurrences and even may end up finding love! Magic Knight Rayearth, SAO and Zero no Tsukaima come to my mind, among others.

What’s so interesting about this type of fictional works? We receive the chance to explore themes of our interest, fulfil personal fantasies and escape from our common lives (the real world is already complicated on its own). This article shows how Escapism has its value.

There is a very interesting paradigm going on on Asiatic media concerning travels to other worlds. In fact, according to TV Tropes, this type of fictional work is called Isekai in Japanese media and it’s treated as a genre of its own. And yet, nowadays I find a very interesting twist in this type of media, a twist that makes things very entertaining.

The names of the works I’m talking about sound cliché and melodramatic: ‘My Next Live as a Villainess’, ‘Death is the Only Ending for the Villainess’, ‘The Villainess Lives Twice’, ‘The Villainess reverses the hourglass’. Others are more indirect, such as ‘The Abandoned Empress’ and ‘Your Throne’. Most are told from the point of view of females who have a traditional antagonist role.

I’ve always enjoyed ironic consumption, and these titles worked as magnets to me. What I ended up finding was a refreshing surprise: common women who fell into fantastical worlds made from the plots of novels and games they consumed in their free time, or more traditional ‘villainesses’ who travelled back in time to fix what was wrong in their first lives. In the first case, we would see normal girls who found themselves inside the bodies of ‘villainous’ characters and desperately trying to avoid their bad endings by the use of their knowledge of the plots while commenting on clichés and traditional tropes. In the second case, we see female characters who more or less identify with their ‘villainous’ role and try to change their bad outcomes while learning about themselves and what drove them to make their bad choices.

What do these types of works have in common? They are genre deconstructions. According to TV Tropes, deconstructions happen when a fictional work takes its elements apart and shows how certain elements would work in real life, by contrasting them to ‘real situations’ or parodying them. Sarcastic main characters help, too.

There is a very interesting trend among Asian Media (mainly works made by Korean authors, but there are Japanese too) concerning the deconstruction of traditional stories directed to the female public.

Why is this expression of the isekai genre so interesting?

First, because most stories deal with settings of historical fantasy, where we can indulge ourselves with beautiful Period dresses, gorgeous mansions and attractive love interests. One can’t help but remember the works of Jane Austen or the Brontë Sisters.

Second, because the twists of these works feel refreshing. We consider other points of view. We see why villains become what they become. We get to learn new plot points. Deconstructions give an interesting dose of realism and pragmatism to stories. They are refreshing because they give new angles to an old genre and we can identify with the situations.

But let’s not forget: the focus of this essay is villainesses. We get to see the story from the point of view of female characters who don’t portray themselves as good people and some even feel content with their roles.

Raised in a world where women receive lots of double standards, being pressured from young ages to be proper and good and yet receiving worse punishments than guys for doing the same things like them as a result of unrealistic expectations, along with some unhealthy extremes of social justice culture, where we are oddly pressured to change ourselves and learn from our mistakes yet we are not allowed to fully grow from them, it isn’t hard to identify with villainesses. After all, it is unavoidable to find ourselves as the villains of someone else’s life events. We are not perfect people and we fuck up sometimes. Especially when we are young.

So, why are villainesses so interesting? Because they fuck up, too. These characters don’t try to be saintly good girls and they acknowledge their situations. There is an interesting dose of cynicism underlying these works, in some, it’s more open than in others, such as ‘Your Throne’. Some female leads are noble demons who try to not drag third parties into their schemes, like Medea Belial in the work I previously mentioned. Others define themselves as villainess yet behave as anti-heroines are their worst, such as Aria Roscente in ‘The Villaines Reverses the Hourglass’. And others are heroes who still place themselves in the roles of villains, like Catarina Claes in ‘My Next Life as a Villainess!’’.

What do these three have in common? The leads also have internalized in themselves some moral standards about good and evil.

I don’t think it is surprising to find these types of works during the current fourth wave of Feminism we are living in. Terms such as internalized misogyny, double standards and deconstruction are concepts I learned these past years thanks to social media. So, why do I believe these types of Isekai novels that focus on villainesses are so relevant? Because we see other females’ points of view, we understand their positions and sometimes get to see that the true villains are other characters. Most of the villainesses of these works are, in fact, women with terrible social reputations who behave as anti-heroines at their worst.

There is a reason why the social settings of these stories are during past times. The authors of these works are deconstructing tropes from both old and new media. They are giving voices to Other Characters and show them in a realistic light, they write about flawed women who try to survive in a world full of unrealistic expectations, and that is true for both past and actual times.

It isn't hard for me to recall works such as Northanger Abbey or Jane Eyre. There are reasons why Period novels are still relevant these days, but that it’s not the topic I want to address in this essay. Here is this interesting article that analyses the success of Jane Austen works, while this note from the Guardian does the same for the Brontë sisters. Of course, experts and critics would get annoyed at me for putting Jane Austen and the Brontë Sisters on the same page, but please, bear with me: I’m talking about fictional works that deal with abuse, machismo, dysfunctional families and difficult childhoods, subjects still relevant to today. So, what’s so interesting about recalling these themes? It’s the way some Asian authors knew how to retake these stories, added some fantastical elements and still deconstructed others, providing us with a refreshing result.

Most of the isekai works I mentioned above are told from the point of view of young girls who are isolated for their social positions, because they come from other worlds and know that their ‘new bodies’ are doomed to die and more.

Imagine being reincarnated as the pretty daughter of a noble family and yet... you find yourself hated and isolated from others, in a situation you cannot control. And you can be murdered in cold blood if you don’t make the right choices. These works make it very clear some situations are ugly and dangerous. They are not painted in a romantic light. And the main characters acknowledge it.

Naturally, there are aspects we could criticize of these works. For example, the main leads usually are white thin ladies in gorgeous period dresses, who despite their issues still benefit from privileged backgrounds. And few of these works address LGTBQ+ representation, as most of the endgames are attractive male leads.

But then, this is not about pitting people against each other. It’s about acknowledging a new paradigm in story-telling, one that subverts and parodies plots.

Change is brought over by small steps. And I think we are going on a good path.

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

Update (July 22nd): I see this post is reaching some people. If you feel like it, what about buying me a coffee?

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

Fourteen things I noted about CR2E106 “A Fog Lifted”

Nice rap, Sam ! I hope someone did a "Every time the cast of CR referenced or quoted or sang Hamilton" video and it contained that ad.

Oh, even though the combat ended and the monster killed, I love that the volcano and the hot water is still a huge threat and forces the group to think of creative way to get out of here alive WITH loot.

Caleb turned into a shark in a dead-end tunnel. Matt checking live if sharks can swim backwards (they can't) has the same energy that time Aimee Carrero broke Aabria and the game by suggesting to flip the alligator on its back to render it docile.

Beau went up the upside-down waterfall again, to exit the cavern, and mostly for the fun of it. The rest of the party, after spending 30 minutes to elaborate plans to ride the waterfall or utilize a boat to block the stream, just walk out of here via a hole Jester created with her magic paint. Doors !!!! The true enemy, once again.

Yasha, lying, but like visibly lying : "Oh, what's that over there ??! Look !!" Everybody, who all have above 10 passive insight : *just stare right at her*

The scene where Yasha tests her wings, white and redeemed, that really fly, and use them to catch Beau from mid-air is ROMANTIC AS HELL, come on !!! I'm sure there's tons of fanart from that and I want to see it all !!!!

Favorite reactions from the cast : Travis saying "Shut the fuck up" in disbelief to Matt describing Yasha taking off, Laura singing🎵 Can you feel the love tonight🎶, Sam's smirk as he's responding "Yeah you do" to Beau saying she holds on to Yasha when they're taking off, Liam making the 'Now KISS !!' meme with his hands, Matt just dying with laughter when his wife roleplays the most disaster lesbian conversation I've ever heard.

"Sprinkle has killed more people than Marius" is a true and verified fact

Ah yes, the tried-and-true classic : testing a new weapon by attacking your team mate (who consents). Beau's new staff is amazing, because it allows her to attack at a distance !

Love that Jester is asking herself (and Fjord !) questions about morality of lying to other people about the status of a god, if that prevents them to have a real connection. Also, about death & stuff. Questions that Fjord does not have the answer to ! Nor does anyone, really, but it's good that she asks them. I feel like ever since Artagan revealed himself, she has been holding a lot of pressure in, and it's good that she's talking to her friends.

The Mighty Nein are really gonna convert this island into their resort island, huh. Good for them. I mean, what is D&D for, if not planning your fantasy retirement on an island that has an upside-down waterfall, good weather, nice people, already built houses, and fucking dinosaurs ??

Jester, about the Traveler : "...He's probably kind of vain." Liam, very quietly : "Probably thinks this song is about him." I SEE YOU LIAM (and I edited for the link to this amazing song !)

Keyleth's mom, about the offer or a sip of whiskey : "No, thank you. My family doesn't drink." Meanwhile, in Emon, Keyleth is going day-drinking at least 3 times a month, and getting shitfaced with Grog with the Sandkheg's Hide.

"The V.O. community should be compensated. Unsung heroes, really." SAM

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head,  every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his  silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a  fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He  thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the  very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset.  He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment  many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut, dirty talking.

A/N:  This chapter is shameless smut, you are warned. Minors do not interact. go and read a book or something.

Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.As always, let me know what you think!

________________________________________________

Chapter 14 / Chapter 15

Lovers ever run before the clock.

Overhaul really is just an uptight pretentious asshole, but Tomura lets his insulting remarks slide, trying his utter best not to snap.

He was supposed to be in a good mood today, but by the time Chronostasis puts the gun against his white locks, he swears that he will do anything in his power to completely ruin Shie Hassakai for this mess, already struggling to keep his temper at bay.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

He’s never one to get distracted but it is difficult to stay focus when he cannot erase the feeling of her thighs caging his hips, her words rumbling inside his brain like a prayer for him to come back and take what’s already his.

It enrages him far more than he would like to admit, but he can’t go back if he gets killed, can’t he?

Luckily for them, Tomura kinda lacks that self-preservation impulse at the face of danger, so he stays there completely stoic and delightfully petty between Chisaki and the gun. The thought of her crying because he got his pretty brains scattered all over the Shie Hassakai immaculate floor makes him realize that he has yet another reason to hate Overhaul.

Really, what’s the matter with these people? they just keep adding points to their list, but sure, he will work with what he has (as always) by sending Toga and Twice into their ranks to gain some reliability after Chisaki told him about this ridiculous plan of curing society of quirks like it’s an illness.

And he thought que was an extremist.

It’s a dumb concept, really. People decide to be assholes, to be heroes, villains and such. There is a choice in excluding those like him from society meanwhile hero violence is idolized. But quirks? People don’t get to choose. Shit just happens. You can develop a cute little nice quirk that allows you to make bubbles or something ridiculous like, dunno, destroying everything you touch; but people can help it, it’s just the way it is. Nobody asks for it. Not even Overhaul, not even him.

And, even when Tomura can understand what Overhaul is saying about society being unfair based on quirks, his plan still sounds pretty nonsensical to him, who wants to destroy everything with his own hands, after all is that why he was born with such deadly weapon at the reach of his fingers. It would be nothing short but hypocritical and, despite the irony, he likes to think of himself as an honest person. His goal clashes directly with Overhaul’s, so no, he will keep the league interests to himself and for now will trust Toga and Twice to do what they do best without rising any suspicion about what he’s up to. Chisaki is more stupid tan he looks if he thinks Tomura will make blind eye to the audacity of his challenge and his continuous lack of propriety.

Oh, poor Overhaul. He doesn’t know it yet, but he already lost.

In the meantime, he’ll keep himself busy on more important and exciting matters. Hating Overhaul is something he can use as a motivation for more than just inner monologue, because you see, Tomura has a revenge to plan and a truck to steal.

_____________

 Things are different next time he sees you. Something primal and strange born from a sick sense of belonging that fills your interactions after the night you slept together, soothing his temper and bitterness into something warmer and far more intense that pulls and twist and burns to be close to each other.

It's been four days since they left the apartment to prepare the backhand against Overhaul and Tomura is sure that by that hour tomorrow Overhaul will have failed, leaving him as the great winner of his sensei’s title. (Not that he ever needed to prove it, but if Overhaul wanted to pick a fight, he would not be the one to deny his wishes.)

Tonight, however, has nothing to do with all that, not when he’s finally back.

You’ve been waiting for his return by the window, searching for his frame in every shadow, a mug of chocolate warming your hands as the soup simmered over the stove. A warm meal made for him every night in case he decided to return, guessing he would be hungry and cold, wondering if it isn’t too much (but you care for him, so you do it anyway).

A supposition that turned out to be true, but Tomura had another solution in mind.

He’s a starving dog all hunger and demand, a wild vicious thing that looks at you feral and maddened, dripping with want and something far scarier that you don’t dare to name (but you do know, don’t you?).

You are no better than him, not when your fingers had traced patterns with his name across your body, spelling dreams and fantasies from your lips, remembering the way his fingers filled you and you wonder if he touched himself thinking about you too. The answer comes rather messy the moment his jagged mouth whimpers how much he missed you between whispers and moans that to you sound like poetry.

And he takes and takes and takes with deaf hands and sharp teeth, leaving bruises with the shape of his fingertips burned all over you as he bites and scratch and pull-out whimpers and pants from your mouth that echoes the frantic tune of his heart slamming against his ribs because he missed you so much it was painful.  

So, he had kissed you feverish, stomping you against the wall desperate and needing for your attention until you had pull him by the neck of his shirt to drag him into the bedroom, his brain completely forgetting about Overhaul’s existence the moment you push him to the edge of the mattress to sit in his lap, pulling the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, too focused in the heat prints your hands leave on his pale shoulders as something roars inside of his chest urging him to imprint his existence on your skin and possess the being that lives inside your bones.

Tomura paints a plethora of purple kisses over your neck and chest as a mark of his touch and your belonging. Something dark and twisted reverbing inside his ribs, inside his brain.

Mine; his mind repeats over and over again until he’s dizzied from the words, drunk in touch as your hands slither all over his sides, his chest and shoulders. His eyes marveling in the way skin holds together every angle of your flesh and the parts where your bones show from inside of your figure when he finally takes off your dress.

So soft, so beautiful and all his.

His kisses become raw and sharp and painful like the electric bond that ties you together by the ribs, all roughness and need, bruising lips and sinking teeth. Your moans and pants mixing now and then with some pained yelps and hisses of his name to call out on his harshness, but he chooses to make deaf ears to your pleas, too busy trying to gorge on your taste.

His teeth sink on your skin leaving marks like crescent moons that he kisses after you cry, pleasure and need pooling between your thighs, a tightness that burn inside your belly as you tangle your fingers in his hair, thinking briefly between the fog of your thoughts that it has grown, that it looks painfully beautiful on him like a crown of silver and moonlight.

Soon enough your legs lock around his bony hips, the choir of soft mewls and pants has become something far more animal; cries filling the room with each touch. White underwear remaining as the last barrier to your skin, leaving a wet stain over the fabric of his jeans.  

The room turns unbearable warm as your kisses become more slopy and open, letting him take your mouth just how he likes it as he registers the way the skin of your torso presses against his bare chest, your warmth spreading over, suffocating him.

Hooking a finger on your bra cup, Tomura pulls down and reveals the flesh hidden under the layers of lace, deciding already that this is his favorite image of you. Covered in love marks, wet and underwear ruined, your bra tucked under the curb of your breast. Something obscene and desperate about it, more crude than mere nakedness and it’s exactly how he likes it.

It looks lewd, it looks nasty. It looks like everything he wants to make of you, so he tightens his hold on your waist, making your back curve a little up to latch his mouth to your breast, sucking hard enough to draw a loud moan from your lips as you dig your nails on the muscle of his arms, delight shooting through your spine.

“Ow…fuck…” you pant with each pull of his mouth, and he chuckles darkly against your chest, amused and smug because he has you and he knows it, a sinister part of him (the vengeful scary one that wants to kill and maim and destroy) screaming that you belong to him from now on, that you’ll never leave, that he’ll never let you.

Mine, and mine alone he thinks and the thought sounds jarring and loud inside his head as he leaves bruises all over the skin that surround the buds of your chest, making you gasp over his lap.

“What? Wanna say something?” Tomura teases watching your expression, your eyes going wide the moment he slides your panties to the side and press his fingers inside you without warning.

“T-oh…Tomura…fuck…ow” you try to articulate but the words come out as blurred whispers.

“No bickering now?”

“Oh god…Tomura…please” you cry trembling, mouth watering with every touch of his palm over your nerve.

“Please what.”

You hide your face on the crook of his neck to bite him hard enough to make him bark an excited laugh, rejoicing in the fact that you are marking him too, before hooking his fingers inside you to make you moan loudly; hips moving automatically as one of your hands reach the hem of his pants and unbuttons his jeans to touch him back.

“I want you inside.”

He lets out a pretty hiss the moment your fist close around his length, caressing him tentatively until finding a pace, giving you a little victory over his rough teasing.

“I wanna tear you apart” he growls reaching deep inside of you, a wolf like grin slicing across his face baring his sharp teeth “you are a mess. All wet and begging for me to fuck you.”

“Tomura…”

“Fuck…you are so wet, all for me…my good girl, my good girl.” The words pour out of his mouth in feverish tone as his other hand clear the hair off your face before catching your lips on his again.

“Tomura, please…”

He snaps, turning you onto the mattress to climb over your body, throwing his jeans to the floor before leaning between your thighs as his hardness brushes over your clothed center. His patience has run thin though, so he yanks the panties by one side, closing all five fingers over the piece of fabric that flews to the floor before transforming into dust.

He lines up with your center, feeling the intimate touch before thrusting deep into you, ripping out a high moan that makes your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving scratching marks all over his pale skin in an attempt to steady yourself as your walls burn with the stretching.

No, he isn’t gentle this time, he just can’t bring himself to be soft when he feels like the awful infatuation he’s been harboring inside is about to tear his ribs open, pouring out for everyone to see the bloody mess you’ve made of his heart. So, he thrust hard like punishing you for it, snaping his hips fast and deep into you, trying to leave a bruise mark inside as well as one of his hands tangles between your hair, pulling and making you scream to the rhythm of your creaking bed.

He bottoms out the moment his arm hooks under your knee, as you tangle your other leg over his waist, giving him deepest access into you, his tip planting kisses against your cervix, rough friction and raw closeness sending you over the edge because he’s fucking you hard, making sure your screaming can be heard from the hall of the building.

It's brutal, yet you give him everything he wants and more because you like it like this, you like it because is him. The warmth of his body covering yours and you wonder if he can feel it too.

The terrific need of holding onto his body, his wicked smile, his bruised heart. The horror of your attachment to a person like him and what this represents, at the brim of ruining your life for love…

Love.

You are so in love with him.

“Look at me” he demands pulling your hair, a feral snarl across his sharp face darkening his features before kissing you hard, his tongue filling your mouth in lewd motion. “Fuck, you are so tight…I wanna split you in half.” His voice is a coarse and maddened sound against your lips, so close and intimate it’s scary because he’s sinking so deep it feels like he’s trying to rearrange your insides and his words do nothing but intensify the heat.

“Fuck…Tomura…it hurst…you’re so rough…so rough” You manage to blurt out, eyes boring into his.

“And you love it, don’t you?” he snarls tightening the grip on your hair. “You like how it feels…like I’m gonna split your pretty cunt in two. Huh? Say it, say it…”

“Fuck…yes…yes”

“Yes what.” He barks in a particularly harsh thrust that makes you scream like a wildling.

“I love it…fuck…like that…I love it…I love it.”

“You are mine…you hear me?” he prays over your mouth half ordering, half begging for you to go down with it and say that yes, that you’ll never leave him, that you’ll stay with him “All mine to fuck, mine, mine, mine, MINE!” he growls with every thrust as the bed slams hard against the wall until you are a babbling incoherent mess.

His brutal pace and words get you quiet soon, too much to even make a sound and hardly even allowing you to breathe, too concentrated in the feeling of his length and him smashing into your ending wall as the overwhelming touch of his hips and his abdomen on yours burns your skin.

The brush of his hair and ragged breathing fanning over your cheek is the only compass of time while the tightness in your belly threatens to snap the moment your teary eyes meet his, mouth on mouth without even kiss, but you smile to him, your warm hand caressing softly the skin of his jaw as he tears into you, feeling incapable of telling him what the voice of your mind has been playing over and over again.

I’m in love with you.

Like sensing your thoughts, his hands abandon your hair. Four trembling fingers cuddling your cheek, carefully and almost scared before closing his eyes, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispers sweet words of praise only for you to keep, still forcing himself in and out of you. His mouth watering to the sight of your bouncing breast still trapped by your bra.

“ow…I’m gonna..Tomura…I’m gonna…”

The snap of his hips become erratic when finally you come undone on him, eyes rolling back and a cry that tears your throat open when your walls clench around his hardness making him moan as he keeps thrusting in and out, reaching his own end soon after; his hand closing tightly into a fist over the mattress as he grunts with his face hidden on the crook of your neck, filling you warm and slick until he goes soft inside of you.

Tomura pulls out and rests his head on your chest, his heart hammering against your belly, still trying to catch his breath; his fingers tracing mindless patterns over the shape of your waist, as your hands slide between the tangled locks of silver, lips laying little pecks over his crown.

Time slows down, minutes passing and quiet settles, he notices.

Quiet inside of him.

This is all he wanted from the moment he crossed the umbral of your door months ago. The insufferable itch silenced by the calming thump of your heart, fluttering softly behind the gate of your ribs and he wonders if maybe you’d have a room by your core where he could lay his bones to finally rest for a minute from all the rage and hate that burdens him.

Maybe you do have one, hidden and unspoken, a mirror of the one you occupy in the graveyard of his chest where he holds you beautiful and bright and…everything he doesn’t get to hate.

Yeah, he thinks you do. After all, he’s lying in your arms, isn’t it? You had caressed his face and marked his neck and back, all teeth and nails, to then crown him with a wreath of kisses, your body soft and still under his weight, while your hands brush carefully through his scalp.

He knows the feeling, he’s not stupid…but he doesn’t get to speak its name yet.

Is not that bad, after all. Being attached to you and the lullaby of your heartbeat could make him better, smarter, stronger. You could be another reason to fight and destroy. After all, in a society as rotten as this one, you’ll never be allowed to walk by his side if not by putting a bounty on your head too.

What the media would say about you? Would they catalog you as an S class villain? since your quirk is as deadly as it gets, you would be feared and hated. You can practically kill by just looking at someone and he’s not even sure if you really need to look to your target, after all.

And yet you are the kindest person he knows. If someone of the hero commission knew about this, you’d be hunted down despite your service as a doctor, despite your resolution to help whoever needs it, despite caring for those rotten and downthrown. And since you are critical of the system, you’d be reduced to just another animal to put down. Just like him.

Tomura swears he’ll decay every single person on the world before let that happen.

“Tomura…”

He rises his head to look at you, a question drawn across his face.

“Can you…move a little? My bra is killing me.”

“Ow…sorry about that.” He apologizes, curious eyes over the mark that the elastic has left over your skin as he sits by your side.

“Can you help me? I can’t reach the clip…”

“Sure…”  

You bend over to give him better access to your back, feeling his fingers brush over your skin carefully, before liberating you from the elastic straps incrusted on your flesh.

Tomura leans forward, placing soft kisses between your shoulder blades, letting his forehead rest over your spine and the touch is so sweet that it makes you wonder if maybe he does feel the same as you.

You get your answer when his hand moves forward to cup your breast, middle finger carefully up, as the other slides down between your thighs, making you sigh, feeling his hardness brushing your hip.

He nuzzles against your cheek, until you turn to kiss him deeply, warmth pooling between your legs again as his fingers play lazy between your slick entrance and the bundle of nerves. This time though, you take your chance and turn over, sitting on top before taking his wrist to lay kisses over the soft skin of his pulse.

Your quirk flares alive and before Tomura gets to catch on your intentions, his hands stand secured high against the headboard.

“What the…ow fuck!” He moans the moment your hand close over his length, pumping until he’s losing his breath, a ragged laugh scaping his jagged lips “fuck…you are an evil woman.”

“I should be proud if you say so.”

You accommodate over him, lowering until he fills you, pushing his previous release deeper into you.

Your pacing is torturingly slow and intense, soft moans and sweet whispers between languid kissed. Tomura watches hypnotized how your hips ride over the place you two connect, his crimson eyes half lidded as he lets you take him, before finally releasing your hold.

He touches you carefully this time, palming over the curve of your hipbone and your belly, index finger up as he wonders how deep is he, trying to feel himself from the outside, before pushing down to sink deeper into you, hitting the fragile spot where he makes you cry.

“I like you like this…” he speaks softly, looking you up from behind his eyelashes as you ride him slowly.

“How” your word is a whisper against his lips.

“Bare…” he rasps, his voice luring you into his embrace, spilling sweet nothing into his ear as he mumbles over and over again.

“My good girl…you are so good for me…”

This time you reach your peak softly. A sweet thing that fills you gently; walls fluttering around his oversensitive length while you keep rocking him until he stuffs you again, finally both falling back into the mattress side to side, already drifting into sleep, both tired and content.

A light touch catches your attention before falling unconscious. Tomura´s pinky hooks on yours as a silent plea, so you spill a peck over his shoulder before resting your temple on it, a sweet gesture that makes his heart tremble with fear and excitement for all the right reasons.

So, he does what he wants, sliding his arm under your neck and moving your head to rest on his chest. Over his heart he lays a fist for you to grip gently by the wrist before finally crowning you with soft kisses as the steady beat of his heart lulls you to dream.

Chapter 16 (soon)

[innuendostudios]

Thoughts on... some funny games

[no spoilers to speak of]

Thoughts on Lair of the Clockwork God

The wisdom of the gaming cognoscenti insists that comedy is hard to do in video games. Having grown up with Monkey Island and Zork, I've never found this convincing. But one true thing is this: it's hard to write about comedic games. The ineffability of humor is hard enough to describe in less-interactive media; I can't even explain to my partner why Gretchen saying "I met January Jones once!" on You're the Worst busted me up, and they were sitting right next to me when she said it. Throw in the "you had to be there" nature of the player's active participation and I lose myself in a cornfield. The thing I found hilarious might come a beat to early for you, or not at all, or not be funny in text like it is in gameplay.

Why did I like Lair of the Clockwork God? It made me laugh.

The premise and particulars are a lot of "that could go either way." Ben and Dan - stars of Ben There, Dan That and Time Gentleman, Please! - have returned. Ben is still an adventure game star, but Dan has adopted platforming mechanics in an attempt to get with the times. So playing the game involves switching back and forth between a character who can leap across canyons but can't pick up items or talk to people, and one who can combine inventory but can't climb over a 3-pixel rock.

Does that sound potentially funny? Potentially grating? Yes to both!

The plot centers around our heroes trying to save the world from several simultaneous apocalypses and having to teach human emotions to a supercomputer in order to do so. (Don't ask.) These means, rather like Ben There, Dan That, traipsing through a number of fantasy worlds (read: computer simulations) until the correct emotion is provoked. This requires cross-genre cooperation: finding ways to get Ben to areas only Dan can access, getting Dan new power ups by combining objects in Ben's inventory (an act Dan insists on calling "crafting").

The best bits are at these intersections, when Dan's platforming is the puzzliest and Ben's puzzles take advantage of Dan's skills. Periodically the game gives you a Dan-centric platforming gauntlet the controls are NOT precise nor pleasant enough for, or a Ben-only moon logic puzzle that leaves you googling the walkthrough.

But I liked it! A lot. The genre-hopping seems to have invigorated the developers, Ben Ward and Dan Marshall. I discussed my favorite joke in Ben There, Dan That (in what is probably the least popular video I've ever made that wasn't asking for money), but was also dismayed that the game was never that clever again. But this one is, several times over! Progression here involves cheating your way to a better respawn zone, goofing around in game menus, exploiting "glitches," exiting out and loading up entirely other games. There is a lot of poking and prodding at what a game of this nature can or should be.

But, honestly? The only real selling point is... it was funny. The humor is as anarchic and metatextual as in previous titles, but it feels good-natured in a way BT,DT didn't. And there are, here and there, little bits of meat on its bones - the characters wondering if, as a couple thirtysomething white guys, the world hasn't left them behind, no longer comfortable with the juvenile humor of their youth but not really understanding the youth of today, but having not yet fully escaped the mentalities they used to hold. (There's an unspoken humor to Dan's idea of "modern" gameplay being 2D platforming mechanics, especially at a time when adventure games are significantly more popular than on his last outing; this is a good joke whether or not it's intentional.)

Also: this game contains the most poignant urinating-on-a-grave puzzle in gaming history, and you may quote me on that.

Having finished it months ago, I can't even remember what all the gags were that tickled me at the time. Comedy fades from memory faster than drama or frustration. Mostly I just remember having a good time.

Thoughts on The Darkside Detective

Here's a hook: sometime after the mayhem ends in Ghostbusters, The Exorcist, Evil Dead 2, or some other paranormal blockbuster that you watched over and over in the 90's until the VHS wore out, some overworked detective has to come into your town and piece together what the hell happened.

This is his story.

It's a good gag, and the devs wring every drop from it. Existing in a world where these things are commonplace and you have to fit them into some notion of "police procedure" is just funny. Like, it's one thing to have a running gag where you keep observing the moon in outdoor scenes, commenting, with increasing hostility, that its behavior is suspicious (it has been present at multiple crime scenes); it's a slightly different thing when, given the things you've encountered, the moon being the Big Bad is actually somewhat possible.

The game is divided into six main cases and three bonus DLC missions (which come included in the base game now, and the third of which is the proper ending/setup for the sequel). You are the cop tasked to deal with The Other Side - and, when The Other Side bleeds into our own world, its cops have to deal with you. You have a sidekick with a mental maturity of about 6, which I guess makes you the straight man. (You have to grade on a curve to find a straight man in this game.) And you solve tasks like rounding up escaped gremlins or finding an AWOL lake monster all juxtaposed with mundane problems like inter-office squabbles and having not bought your Christmas presents early enough. It's (pleasantly) lo-res and sparsely isolated, so the dialogue and premise do most of the work, but they are ably up to the task.

The gameplay... not so much. I'm an adventure game lifer, so I can put up with a lot of nonsense. It's mostly straightforward inventory puzzles and occasional minigames. Most of the puzzles are fine enough. As the cases progress, things get more involved, and the DLCs especially involve some awful moon logic. And the minigames are not above using that same jumping peg puzzle you've solved in a dozen other games already. So gameplay ranges from serviceable to irritating, but it mostly exists to string together funny lines and silly images. (Christmas mall elves being secretly in service to Krampus - that's the kind of thing we're talking about here.) You won't feel much guilt for opening up a walkthrough; the puzzles aren't why you're here.

The sequel has just been released, and both games are cheap, so check them out if you feel like smiling.

Thoughts on The Procession to Calvary

It's rare for a game to be hilarious to look at.

The Procession to Calvary takes its name from the Bruegel painting. It also takes all it's graphics from Renaissance oil paintings, and the designer delights in making famously rendered heroes and religious icons steal, stab, fart, and swear.

A strong Terry-Gilliam-with-After-Effects vibe is what we're describing.

You play as a lady knight from a war that's just ended, which sucks for you because, in this age of peace, you're no longer authorized to kill. And killing's, like, you're whole thing. But the one person your new, pacifist king wouldn't stop you from killing is the warlord you just deposed, who fled to the South. So you embark on a nonsensical journey to seek out the one human on Earth you are authorized to kill, because killing is just The. Best. Ever.

Of the three games we're discussing, this is the most overtly cheeky, and, at times, the most scatological. I could've done with a bit less scatology, if I'm being honest, but the cheekiness is very winning. As with Lair of the Clockwork God, a lot of jokes could go either way - a field of people being tortured and a woman on a blanket selling commemorative torture merch could be painfully try-hard. But something about the victims being seemingly everyone ever crucified or broken on the wheel in a famous painting, and having them writhe on their crosses in a way that is both gruesome and goofy, and having a cacophonous soundtrack of their screams and moans that you will now imagine every time you look at one of those elegantly elegiac paintings from now on... it works. That the music score is being played by an extremely jaunty piper who dances behind you just out of sword's reach as you traverse the field pushes it over the top.

Oh, and the puzzles, while never hair-pullingly obtuse, will leave you stumped at times. Push past that to get the proper ending, but, if you're sick of trying, you can, at any point, just start stabbing your way through problems. Which, again: it takes a very deft touch to make "protagonist resorts to violence" actually funny rather than lazy and obvious. And maybe, in another game, the perfect timing of every animation, the clever quips, the careful contrast of cathedrals and high-society music halls with gleeful sword-swinging wouldn't be enough. But something about it being frickin' Renaissance paintings carries it the last mile.

This is probably the basest game of the three, but it's also the one that made me giggle the most. Having a BFA that required several art history classes may have something to do with it. But check this thing out.