#in this fic we all hate audrey

[i-like-anything-water]

the skies and the pits of hell: how far I fell

It was the time for the wedding.

Chloé was tapping her foot impatiently and glancing at the time on her watch. It's not that big of a deal, she thinks. It doesn't matter what time she comes. What matters is she will.

There's some rustling behind her and a gasp, and Chloé steels herself to face her. She felt her mouth go dry and her heart pound. She gripped the leather gloves in her hand tightly, feeling as if she would stumble and kneel any moment.

She was never a fan of begging, maybe because she never got what she wanted when she did.

Marinette whispers something to Alya and Chloé was ready to stand her ground should the reporter decided to throw her out. But Alya merely nodded and glanced at her briefly before walking outside but not before Chloé could catch her expression.

Sympathy. Chloé fucking hated it.

Marinette walks up to her slowly, as if afraid Chloé would bolt the moment she came too close. Oh, if only she could.

"Chloé.... I'm so glad you came," it was a lie and they both knew it. Chloé chuckled humorlessly, the pricks in her heart becoming more evident.

"You look beautiful," it was a truth, and Chloé believed it with every fiber of her being.

Marinette looked shocked and a small smile graced her features, "Thank you. You look... amazing. Leather really suits you."

It's their old banter, the one thing they can pick up no matter how long it's been. But Chloé doesn't feel like bantering, doesn't feel the need to hide. For this time, no matter how small and rare, she'd be herself.

Devoted, intoxicated and deeply in love with the woman before her.

"I came to say goodbye," she starts and Marinette moves to interrupt her, "I know, bad timing but my flight leaves soon and I...I don't have much time." I don't have much time before my resolve crumbles, and I've always been weak when it comes to you.

I'm just here to say...thank you. And I'm sorry. And I wish I would have done better, choose better and I-" she gulps, breathing suddenly hard, "I wish I stood up to my mother earlier."

Marinette crosses the distance between them and arms envelope her in a hug and Chloé crumbles. A sob makes its way out of her, her whole frame shaking. Marinette lets her own tears fall as they stayed like that.

Everything comes to an end, and Chloé knows theirs is just right around the corner. With the strength left to push the smaller woman away, she gave her a smile. The smile she gave people before she teared them apart, the smile she gave the paparazzi when she finally come out, the smile she gave her friends when they asked if she's okay after being publicly disowned by her own mother-

the smile she wore whenever she pushed Marinette just a little farther.

She straightens up and it takes everything in her body to move, "Well, this has been lovely. I'll b-be going now. Goodbye, Dupain-Cheng."

She starts to move quickly when Marinette grabs her hand, stopping her.

"I knew..."

Chloé could feel her heart break all over again.

"I knew your mother was cruel. I knew she wanted you to stay away from me - from Sabrina and the rest of our friends. I knew you never wanted what anything happened. I knew, Chloé, that's why I stayed - that's why I'm still here."

Chloé inhales deeply, praying to whatever Kwami was pitying her to help her make it through the day.

"I know," she smiles but it never reached her heart, "That's why I pushed you away. Because I knew I could never give you the heaven and the stars, when all my life I've only had the deepest parts of hell."

She gently lets go of their hands and she smiles, one last try. It still doesn't reach her eyes.

"Goodbye, Marinette." I have loved you deeply, my sky.

[buddiefix]

Fake Dating/Didn't Know They Were Dating Fic's (Part 1)

The following are some buddie fanfiction involving fake dating, or the characters realizing they've been partners all along.

What If I Fall In Love Backwards? by RedRidingStiles 

9-1-1 (TV)  

"I feel like we should go save him," Chimney said as he and Hen loaded their drunk and injured patient into the back of the ambulance (day drinking and balconies do not mix), nodding his head towards the small swarm of college girls surrounding a highly uncomfortable Buck. "And by we I mean you, Eddie." "Yeah I got this," Eddie reassured, cupping one hand around his mouth before shouting, "Hey Buckley!" "What's up, Hot Stuff?" Buck called back, his eyes holding crystal blue relief as they met Eddie's across the lawn. Eddie tried to bite back his amused smile but didn't succeed when his next words had Buck grinning like a complete fool. "You. Me. Tonight. Wear something pretty." "Edmundo Diaz, are you trying to ask me out on a date?"

 —or—

five Times Buck and Eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time Christopher helps

Language: English Words: 9,879 Chapters: 1/1

baby, say you'll always keep me by hattalove

9-1-1 (TV)  

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and the darkness behind his eyelids takes on a white edge. “Be good. Nice to be married,” he yanks on Buck’s t-shirt, “best friend.” Finally, Buck takes a breath that sounds off somehow, but he laughs too, and that sounds normal, Eddie thinks. A normal laugh. “Sure, Eds,” he says, and there’s his hand in Eddie’s hair again, a puff of breath on the crown of Eddie’s head like Buck leaned in to press a kiss there and then stopped, but why would he stop—“I’ll marry you if you remind me tomorrow.”

—or—

The one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing.

Language: English Words: 8,251 Chapters: 1/1

I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) by morganofthefairies 

9-1-1 (TV)  

“You should just move in,” Eddie said one night.  They were already laying in bed, Buck’s face half-buried in his pillow. “Where would I sleep, Eddie,” Buck deadpanned, sleep heavy in his voice. “Here,” Eddie said, not entirely sure how Buck missed that part.  “The same place you’ve been sleeping.” Bobby raised an eyebrow when Buck updated his address on all of the necessary paperwork, but Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what the big deal was.

—or—

The story of how Buck and Eddie went about their relationship in entirely the wrong order.

Language: English Words: 7,206 Chapters: 1/1

we could follow the sparks, i’ll drive by markofalover

9-1-1 (TV)  

“Oh! You must be Mr. Diaz!” someone says from behind him, and Buck spins around clumsily, all long legs, to find a woman with a Miss Perez tag stuck to her blouse. She’s smiling politely, white teeth against red lips, and it takes just a second too long to process what she says.

—or—

everyone thinks Buck is the other Mr. Diaz.

Language: English Words: 6,539 Chapters: 1/1

i'd never let you fall and break your heart by autistic_nightfury

9-1-1 (TV)  

Four times Buck and Eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together.

Language: English Words: 5,808 Chapters: 1/1

Say Cheese by S_lycopersicum

9-1-1 (TV)  

"Um... anything left to get?" "Snacks for that girl who has diabetes. Amy, Audrey, uh..." "Abby." "Pfff... I'd remember if she was called Abby," Buck half-heard Eddie say, but his focus was on the other end of the grocery store aisle, where at 11pm at night his ex-girlfriend Abby Clark was carefully assessing two different brands of provolone.

Language: English Words: 4,927 Chapters: 1/1

of bake sales and overdue realizations by brewrosemilk

9-1-1 (TV)  

Eddie doesn’t notice it until it becomes a thing that happens even when it’s just him and Buck, without Chris anywhere near them - but even then, he doesn’t find it strange, or give it much thought. Buck is the one who starts ending their phone calls with a quick ‘love you’ but it doesn't take long before Eddie does the same, often beating him to it. It’s never a big deal - most of the time it’s something along the lines of;

‘Hey, can you grab some milk on your way over? We’re out.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, I got it.’ ‘Great, love you.’ ‘Love you.’

Before long, they’re even doing it in texts.

Language: English Words: 4,823 Chapters: 1/1

the secrets we keep (the ones that spill out) by sparegarbage

9-1-1 (TV)  

The 118 is a close-knit family. It’s not surprising given how much time they spend together: endless hours at the firehouse, barbecues on the weekends, the occasional night at the bar. They’re a family, yes... but Buck and Eddie don’t have to tell them everything. They’re allowed their secrets, really, and it’s not… weird. Really, it’s not. It’s just that sometimes the 118 asks too many questions, and sometimes there’s just no good (or clear or logical) way to explain. Exhibit A: How Buck ended up in Eddie’s bed during a sleepover (and how he’s been sleeping there most nights since).

—Or—

Buck and Eddie comfort each other with cuddles, hugs, and kisses (platonically—or so they think).

Language: English Words: 4,624 Chapters: 1/1

With(out) A First Date by firstdegreefangirl

9-1-1 (TV)  

Buck and Eddie become boyfriends. Six months later, they start dating.

Language: English Words: 10,282 Chapters: 13/13

it's always been you by coupe_de_foudre

9-1-1 (TV)  

“What do I normally get from there?” Eddie asks him, chin settled back onto his shoulder. “The kung pao chicken.” he answers almost instantaneously, having all of Eddie’s usual take-out orders memorised by now. It comes in handy for when they need to get food in quick whilst navigating work and Christopher. It’s not weird. He, unfortunately, misses the odd look that Maddie sends him. As well as the way that Hen hides a snicker behind a cough.

Language: English Words: 8,700 Chapters: 6/6

(Friendly reminder I do not own any of the works listed in this post, and all can be located on archiveofoureown.org)

[leclsrc]

we need need neeed a charles variant of the media naranja fic :( just a multiple lives au even just a drabble or a headcanon auds audrey big a please only u do this shit justice

bec this has been rotting and i needed to practice writing :)

divine sense – cl16

Charles is always led back to you. title from this

“Your mole is nice,” he says, cutting himself off and thinking a bit more on his words. “It sits just there, on the corner of your eye.”

“Really? God.” You poke at it, rub over it even if it sits relatively flat and unassuming and a bit tiny. “I’ve always hated it. People mistake it for leftover eyeliner or mascara all the time, and it’s—whatever.”

“It’s pretty.” His gaze could light you on fire and water it down all at once. “It’s one of the first things I noticed about you. Granted, I thought it was a, uh, how you say? Mascara, yes, that flicked off your eye a bit, but now it’s just there. I like it.”

A slow smile creeps its way onto your lips and you bite it back, to no avail. “Thank you.”

“It’s the reason why you look so familiar to me.” My mole? You ask, your head turning to the side a bit. He nods. “I don’t know why, either. I mean, clearly we didn’t know each other then. But something about you—you’ve always felt familiar, I think.”

“I have?” 

The trees are greener in the spring, but they’re thin still, not yet too thick with leaves that will fade into orange and die and fall. It’s perfect, Charles thinks, because then the sun filters perfectly through the green of them and shines through the blinds and onto your face, smiling tenderly and warm and waiting. Your eyelashes cast a shadow across the rest of your face and he could stare forever.

“You have.”

—

“Did you get mascara on your eye?”

“What? Oh. Fuck, no. This—it’s a mole.” You turn quickly to the mirror. “I know, it looks a bit like it, yeah.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” 

“It’s all good. So, Charles, right?” You reread the application sheet and stretch a hand forward to shake his. “My new roommate… taking up Architecture.”

“Yep.” He smiles proudly, the emblem of your university front and centre on his sweatshirt. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but have I met you before? You just look a little familiar. Mole and all.”

“Oh.” Instinctively, you reach up to touch the area on which it sits. “I don’t think so, sorry. Um, but in my Lit class, we did have a discussion about how… like… moles are places where you were kissed in your past life.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” You smile up at him. The fall breeze filters through the open living room window, blowing tendrils of hair over your face that you’re quick to brush away. “Granted, I don’t know who would want to kiss an area like this.”

“You don’t?”

And maybe you’re a bit loopy from the drive, or hungry from waking up early, or maybe not at all. Maybe Charles the college roommate is messing with you, or maybe pulling a prank, or maybe not at all. The sunset today is beginning to tint the room and his pretty face a muted orange and you could stare forever.

“I don’t.”

—

Your first time in Italy is marked by a series of ugly firsts: first catcall, mistranslation, scam, blistered heel. But you make it, despite it all, to your foster family’s farm estate, all old vine-caked buildings and stables and lemon trees. You spot somebody poking their head out of the upstairs window but the mop of hair disappears just as quickly.

The door is answered by Pascale—the one you’d been corresponding with prior to today. With her is her husband, Hervé, and two sons, one of whom is somewhere in the house getting your room tidy, she says apologetically. You’re quick to quell her apology, sated by the ice water and bowl of fruit (Hervé says something about picking them all out himself; Arthur, the younger one, pulls you aside with a boyish smile and says it was actually him.)

“Lorenzo is off at university for summer classes,” Pascale explains when she’s putting the second spoonful of pasta on your plate. “So I am stuck with Arthur here, and Charles. He’s about your age, yes? Twenty-two in October.”

Charles descends into the kitchen talking in rapid Italian to his mom, that only tapers off when he sees you at the table. You smile, dopey, raising a careful hand to wave.

He stares. 

“Vieni a sederti,” Pascale says, pointing to the empty seat beside you. Shyly, he takes a seat and fills up his glass with water—then yours. 

“Oh,” you say. “Thank you.” Your gaze travels to him, and find he’s already looking—at the corner of your eye.

“It’s a mole,” you clarify with a quiet, pretty laugh. “Are you excited to take me around? Pascale says you’re my tour guide.”

“Sure, sure.” He laughs. “Where do you want to go?”

Hervé has played some Italian music on his vinyl, so it’s what scratchily plays through the dining area, accompanied by the scent of garlic and lemon and olive from the trees outside, blowing a gentle breeze through the archway of the house.

You turn away from his green eyes to answer one of Arthur’s questions, peppering chili flakes over your aglio olio to twirl and deposit into your mouth. One red flake stays on your lip and he imagines swiping it off with his thumb. Your eyes meet his again, gaze amused and gentle and Charles could stare forever.

“Anywhere, really.”

—

“Oh, honey,” you whine playfully, letting your husband crowd you against the counter of your kitchen, peppering kisses all over your face. “Missed me that much?”

“You know I did.” He parts from you, and even if he's taller his gaze seems to convey looking up at you, adoration and love crowding his green eyes. A hand caresses your jaw, cheek; his thumb rubs over the corner of your eye. The blank skin there, unmarked, unblemished.

He kisses it. His favorite spot. “I woke up this morning thinking about you,” he says fondly.

“About how I left you in charge of changing Mila while I slept in?” You tease lowly, forehead pressed to his.

“About how in love I am with you,” he says honestly. Your heart pulses. It was never a whirlwind of love for either of you. It was slow, warm, familiar. Hey, you.

Despite that, he means it, you know he does, he’s never failed to show just how much. When he wakes up early to change Mila, or when he takes charge of the stove when you’re sleepy. When he lets you walk him around the winding avenues of Manhattan to get cookies or a good coffee or a better beer. When he watches you sing karaoke tipsily, Billy Joel or The Smiths. The way he memorizes every part of you, the way he knows you. Any and all of the love Charles ever had and ever felt always answered to you. 

Lips meet the corner of your eye again. “You know that? I love you. You changed me. You know that, right?”

You could stay forever, in the dusk of the city, questions suspended in the air to be lovingly answered in the lifetimes to follow. They will come, though. You can stay for now—you’ve done your waiting for a love like this.

You smile. “Right.”

[m3nt4llyr4v3d]

Lila and Chloe Aren’t People

And that’s why their writing bothers me immensely.

Neither of them have any real interests, wants, or desires outside of being terrible. With the horrible adults (with the exception of Audrey), they have other things going on in their lives, other wants, other desires, other feelings. We don’t get that with Chloe and Lila.

Sure, Lila’s past is “mysterious” and “speculative”, but I feel like we should know at least one real thing about her if she’s going to be the next villain? The next big bad? That one theory about her lying for attention because her mother is busy all the time based on the one face she made? Even if it was considered a flimsy theory, it was something to hold onto, but nope. This teenager has multiple identities, multiple families, and has been keeping this charade up for how long? And yet despite this seemingly big revelation, and despite her supposedly being the villain for the next few seasons (I’m assuming), we don’t know anything about her desires or even what she gets out of lying and living with 3 separate families. Her only goal is destroying Ladybug and Marinette cause they called her out on her lies, and seemingly nothing else. I’d hate to say this, but even the saltiest Miraculous fics I’ve read delved into her character and mindset as to why she acts like this at the very least. It’s been 5 seasons and we know jackshit, and yet she’s the big bad, and somehow we’re supposed to invest in it.

Chloe, I’d argue, did at least have wants and desires (still regulated to bully personality, but at least she wanted to change that and wanted to be someone Ladybug could count on), but beyond Season 3? She stopped being a person with anything else going on, she just exists to torture Marinette and Marinette specifically. Why? The why doesn’t matter apparently, and people explaining it away with jealousy would have a point if Chloe was allowed to have any depth whatsoever. But you’re supposed to sit there boo whenever she’s on screen and not think too hard about it. Remember when Chloe and Adrien were childhood friends? And despite the writers saying that Chloe was only friends with Adrien cause he’s rich (??? that explanation rings hollow for me I might explain later), they put a big emphasis on Chloe trying to be nicer for him cause their friendship was on the line in Despair Bear? And Chloe being upset that Adrien didn’t show up to school in Origins? And yet them being friends is barely explored in any capacity for either of their characters whatsoever? Yeah me neither

(btw, did you know that Chloe took dance for a few years? Yep, blink and you’ll miss it line from her, doesn’t matter whatsoever, cause this is a hate sink and having bad characters actually be characters with other stuff going on in their lives is reserved for the terrible adults. Also she’s coming back in s6??? Why?? What’s the point???)

[amethxxt]

What are brutally honest thoughts on:

Harriet Hook

Li Shang Jr(ignore his name)

Herkie

Aziz

Claudine Frollo

I'm not sure about brutally honest lol but I'll do my best:

HARRIET HOOK

• I don't think you guys understand how much I love Harriet. She's one of my most favorite Descendants characters to write about.

• Based on the few things we know about her from the books, she already seems awesome. Sometimes, I have to remind myself that my headcanons are not canon lol but I have many about her.

• What bothers me the most about Harriet is not her fault at all. I get so mad that they have created Harriet, Harry and CJ, and altright refuse to have them coexist. I would love to see all three Hook siblings together, but noooo, Disney hates fun.

• I can't remember if they mention her having her own crew, but to me, she does and it's one of the most respected gangs on the Isle. No one dares messing with Captain Harriet.

• She dances with Anthony Tremaine in the books and they're a couple. I'm not sorry, I make the rules and they are canon to me.

• To be honest, I could make a whole list of my headcanons about Harriet, I'm just not doing it now because there's more characters to talk about.

LI SHANG JR

• I wish we had seen more of him, maybe have him and Lonnie interact - then again, I don't think it would be possible for them to include all the characters I want in the movies.

• Again, I hate his name, just to make it clear. Also, just made some headcanons about him and Lonnie here.

• It would be nice to have him interacting with Jay and Carlos in D1 after they joined the Tourney team, maybe giving them pep talks instead of the coach and help them feel like they belong there.

HERKIE

• If Disney doesn't stop giving Descendants characters such terrible names, I swear-

• Again, since he's part of the Tourney team, it would be cool to see the boys interacting with him. Since Herkie's really strong, he could show Jay strenght doesn't have to equal agression.

• I also have a few headcanons about him that I'd be willing to share someday. Herkie's also a minor character in my fic about Audrey.

AZIZ

• My poor boy, getting cut from the first movie...

• Seriously, I would've loved to see him! They cut his character and didn't even have him appear in the other movies or Wicked World.

• He was also supposed to be in the Tourney team, why does Disney hate them lol So yeah, it would've been really nice to see all of these boys hanging out. Since Mal mentions Jay getting "victory pizza with the team", I wish we had gotten to see that.

• Despite D1 being the movie that I think was able to work the Core Four individually the best, I still think we could've seen a bit more of how the boys were doing in Auradon.

CLAUDINE FROLLO

• This character... Oh, I adore her. Like I said on my other post, I don't remember much from the books, but I know she was part of the Anti-Heroes Club.

• I always say I wish Descendants could be darker, and Claudine is one of the main reasons why. The daughter of Claude Frollo? The girl is a walking bundle of trauma. There are some og characters that I can see growing to be good parents, but Frollo? No, call child services.

• I don't really like that Claudine is mentioned to be the person ringing the bell at Dragon Hall in the books, mainly because I don't think Frollo would raise her to be a copy of Quasimodo.

• Still, I like that she's part of the Anti-Heroes Club, and I imagine her as very strong girl who would be extremely determine not to become like her father.

I would love to talk about my headcanons for some of these characters, so just send an ask if that's something you'd like to see!

[starryredpandawrites]

Idk if it ever will be relevant or not, well technically we’ve been over this in the fic if I remember right already (it’s been a while since I reread it rip and it’s to hot rn for me to double check) bur like… there WERE other “Audrey’s” before Audrey. “Little miss perfect” was just the lucky survivor

I don’t remember if I was ever confirmed in the books or games if Joey ever directly killed someone before dark revival, but that game sure clarifies that.

Being disabled or not did not stop Joey from being cannonicly and explicitly a child murderer :)

Joey hates not having his impossible standards met and we never met them in the cycle. He was alone while he made her then he had the ink machine in his apartment all by himself and no one to keep him in check. Memory Joey not specifying what happened to them REALLY dose not help that notion

Cus we see non of them in the cycle, and its pretty much confirmed that Audrey’s “other siblings” isn’t Hidie she’s just a deeply traumatized woman in the archives- belive the same happens to Porter to. They may transfer powers to one another, don’t mean they are related besides all being victims of the ink machine

I was originally gonna ask something but I forgot what to ask while writing I may be a moron

- little demon spawn

Hellooo frie-HEY, HEY do NOT even THINK of calling yourself a moron, we foster positivity, self-confidence, and self-love on this blog ❤️❤️❤️

Anywho, I haven't decided if I'm going to go any further with Audrey's predecessors or not, I'll leave that up to future me.

Personally, I tend to believe the worst in Joey so I think he did murder a bunch of little ink girls on his path to making Audrey, I just don't know if I want to deal with all that angst in my fic. I probably won't unless I get a really cool idea that would somehow incorporate all that, and by that I mean a really cool scene, like idk all of Audrey's "sisters" coming out of the woodworks to haunt and/or possibly help her.

I did briefly consider implying all the feminine lost ones were Joey's previous attempts at making her (since there weren't any in the first game) but there's no evidence of that in the game and Heidi disproves that anyway.

Side note, I headcannon that Heidi is the secretary in Big Steve's note but that's just a personal theory

I JUST REMEMBERED SOMETHING

I'll see if I still have that draft somewhere but in Audrey's "firefider" flashback I was going to have Joey pick up a knife like he was considering using it on Audrey because she dared suggest she pursue another career other than animation. I ended up cutting it because I thought it was too edgy and wanted to leave his relationship with her more ambiguous.

If you ever remember what you wanted to ask, I'll be here. It might take me a while but I promise I'll get to it eventually 😘

[seriouslysam8]

I’m 5’10 and I hate it! I can’t wear heels because all the guys I’ve dated feel insecure when I’m taller than them. We can’t do this to Maia! You realize this means you need to pair her with Ron or one of the twins, right? Let’s pair her with Fred since we love Demelza and Angelina. We don’t know Audrey too well so meh we can sacrifices her and that husband of hers. Don’t worry about the age difference, they can date when she’s out of Hogwarts. Let Sirius worry about it, and have Remus tell Sirius he told him he wasn’t a big deal when he was dating Tonks so why does it matter now?? Sirius telling Maia he doesn’t approve of Fred is the first time Harry and Sirius have a big fight, because Harry always has Maia’s back. Now Sirius is even more upset with Fred because the thinks it’s his fault all of his kids and wife are upset with him. When Fred comes over for dinner he goes on about the Marauders Map and how they were all geniuses and Sirius is so annoyed because he loves the kid but wants to hate him so much. This is lowkey me trying to convince you not to kill Fred lol.

Just please kill Percy for the love of god. There’s too many fics of every other Weasley dying but no one is killing off the little git.

I’m pretty sure in canon the twins are short and stocky, not tall like the Phelps twins.

But Maia is like so beautifully tall, like all the other Blacks. She can totally just wear flats. (Wear flats, girl!! No need to kill your feet in heels!)

But I don’t know. It would be kind of funny for Harry to date Ron’s sister and Ron to date Harry’s sister. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 But I do adore Romelza.

EDIT: I am a short girl. I wish I could wear flats without looking like I’m 12. Heels kill. 😭😭😭

[mobirights]

MOBI DEAD GAY WIZARDS (not really but still) RANTTTT

I have major writers block, so for anyone who cares, I'm gonna talk (rant) about the Descendants movies/books while I write a chapter for my Descendants AU jegulus fanfic (the children are innocent linked here).

We DO NOT talk enough about how in the first Descendants book (don't talk to me about how canon or non-canon those books are, they ARE to ME, OKAY?) Ben and Mal had dreams about each other before the VK's got brought to Auradon??? like WHAAAAT. It adds SO MUCH to their relationship and those layers WILL be included in my fic. Like it makes so much sense???

Cause, like, even though we love Ben and Mal, we can all collectively agree that it was crazy how he just left Audrey, right? Like love potion, I know, I know. But my girl had every right to be upset because her boyfriend doesn't even break up with her, but just declares his love to the new girl who is a VILLAIN KID, through SONG, during a sports game where AUDREY was cheering for him??? And was low-key being weird (flirty, awe-struck?) with Mal from the second they met??? Like. Queen of Mean was so valid (and personally one of my fav songs).

BUTTTT if we think about it with the knowledge that he was DREAMING about Mal months prior, it makes so much sense. When he first met Mal when the vk's came to Auradon, that was the moment it clicked for him who he'd been dreaming about and he was down bad from there. I still think the whole love potion fiasco was unfair to Audrey, especially after Ben jumped in the enchanted lake and realized he was under a spell AND I refuse to believe that the scene at the end of Descendants 3 was the only conversation Ben and Mal had with Audrey about it. Like that apology wasn't even a real apology??? I head-canon that they had a much deeper conversation where they THOROUGHLY apologized to Audrey, her to them, and they ate strawberries and lived happily ever after friendship. But anyways.

It makes so much sense. Even though I hate what Ben did to Audrey, we also find out in the books that he had been questioning their relationship before he even met Mal or considered bringing the VK's to Auradon. He had been questioning EVERYTHING about his life in Auradon. (so James Potter coded of him honestly) Like we learn so much in the books and it's fucking crazy (I could make whole other post about THAT btw).

AHHHH. Like guys you don't understand, that children's book has me in a CHOKEHOLD because of... everything?? Like ugh.

But back to the dreams. That's so destiny, fate, soulmates coded of Ben and Mal. How did they dream about each other? THEY NEVER MET. We learn from Ben that he feels trapped in Auradon. Bro barely even leaves his castle??? Like at all??? (The United States of Auradon is an insane place when you think about it after reading the book) SOULMATES. IT'S THE ONLY EXPLANATION. He couldn't stop thinking about her after the dream. And at the end of the book, surprise surprise, he gets his idea to bring the VK's to Auradon after thinking about her. Like, of course he's doing it out of the goodness of his heart and because he wants change in Auradon, BUTTT.

It's also because of Mal.

He was thinking about her before he had the idea, thinking about how she is a poor unfortunate child trapped on the Isle. LIKE the way he stared out at the Isle before he made his proclamation (very much included and expanded upon in my fic) is so yearning, longing, 'I need you now, but I don't know you yet' core like- GUYS. you don't UNDERSTAND. They're everything to me. Soulmates, I tell you, SOULMATES.

The Descendants series has been all I can think about since starting this fic. Primary school me is having the time of his life because he too was obsessed with it. He didn't understand the NUANCES back then, though. I do. And I'm gonna share with it with the masses.

Everyone read the Isle of the Lost books by Melissa de la Cruz because so far it's so good! I'm only on the first one, but I love it. The writing style is amazing and also hilarious, and one thing you guys should know about me is that writing style means EVERYTHING to me. It's unfortunate because I've missed out on really good fanfics and normal novels because I just couldn't stand the writing style. But alas.

Expect more rants because talking about it inspires me to write and, as we've already established, I like to talk A LOT.

[dani-luminae]

Also I forgot to ask but: choose violence: 3, 4, 7, 9, 10, 14, 16 and 21.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Uh probably either that one post about Chloe being as awful as Chad. Alternatively, this one take I saw that was like "Audrey cheated on Ben first because she kissed Chad before Ben ever said the relationship was over!"

Honey, if "just sang a love song to a girl who's not his girlfriend" wasn't a clear indication that the relationship was solidly over, I don't know what is.

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

Well if we're talking about that one person who was posting pictures of me (as a minor!) in the Descendants tag, that last straw was when they were outright ableist, so...

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

"Starboy" from Wish. Ignoring that he was supposed to literally be her grandfather returned to earth!!!!!!!!! People really can't stand that Asha could be her own protagonist without a romance. Besides, you want a romance? Dahlia's right there! Simon is right there and there's plenty of tropes that can be applied to his "magically controlled to hurt my friends" situation!

9. worst part of canon

Everything about Beast's character in Descendants. Folks he's literally the last person who should have been an option for the "oh he just decided to drag all the villains back from the dead and imprison them" idea. He's the one prince who had a character arc about not being cruel and unkind!

If I had to chose I would pick Prince Florian for that b*llshit. We know nothing about him as an actual character with personality and given how many people love to go the whole "eew he kissed a fourteen year old!!!!! WTF" route...

10. worst part of fanon

Wish rewrites that are literally just "the movie but Starboy exists and he and Asha have a romance! Also ignore how Asha's conveniently lightwashed"

I keep seeing a Wish rewrite reposted to Pinterest from Instagram called "Alicia and the Kingdom of Starlight"

WHO TF IS ALICIA?

That's not a rewrite at that point. That's just a plain OC.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

I don't... read fics enough to really answer this. I read my own fics, my mutuals fics (you and @descendantofthesparrow) and that's... about it.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Is "Starboy" still an option?

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

The Isle of the Lost. I think there's so much more potential to be shown in Auradon instead with the Isle kids adjusting to freedom instead of D2 trying constantly to go "oh but remember you were an Isle kid!!!! That'll never change!!!!!" (and then D3 forgets it altogether).

Also Wonderland. What was the fucking point with Wonderland. They couldn't afford the sets for the Isle of the Lost and Auradon Prep again so they just had to change course?

[meteor752]

What are your favorite Descendants ships then?

Loving all of this activity in my inbox, okay

Descendants truly brings out the multishipper within me, because I’m on for basically anything here

So this will be a long list

Harry X Ben

Harry X Jay

Harry X Carlos

Harry X Uma X Gil

Harry is my favorite

Ben X Carlos

Ben X Gil

Ben X Evie

Evie X Mal

Evie X Uma

Mal X Uma

Evie X Mal X Uma

Uma X Harriet

Mal X Jane

Jane X Freddie

Lonnie X Jane

Jay X Lonnie

Lonnie X Gil

Dizzy X Celia

Doug X Chad (Ish)

Audrey X The full extent of the law put that girl in jail please

And as for the new movie

Morgie X James

And that’s it

Queen of Hearts and Cinderella def did have like, exes vibe, but as teens they were just kinda boring

And I know we all ship Red and Blue and like yeah I see it, but Blue honestly deserves better okay Red was so fucking mean to her my god

Also I know Blue isn’t her name but I genuinely don’t remember what it was and I don’t care enough to look it up. I think it was like Cleo or smt

Also I don’t hate Mal X Ben or Carlos X Jane, I just think the first one got kinda boring after the first movie, and the latter just never had any real time to fully develop. The same can not be said about Evie X Doug, as a genuinely don’t like that ship, mainly because Doug is the worst character in Descendants

Also, since I have you all here, I will use this opportunity to preach about Ben X Gil, because they have like less than 30 fics on ao3 and most of them are like one shot things or background stuff

Guys Ben X Gil is so funny, holy shit. Like they would work together as a couple, “What’s better than one sweet boy, two sweet boy” ass ship dynamic, but also like imagine meeting the parents. Imagine thanksgiving dinners. My god guys the potential for comedy here

Also Gil deserves more love just in general

[emo-subvision-boy]

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the REAL Tobias Forge (just kidding, I doubt he’ll ever find this blog) - Audrey

Audrey’s Written Works:

coming soon…

Eva’s Written Works:

Stockholm Syndrome: part 1, part 2, and part 3

Ethan’s Written Works:

coming soon…

ᯓᡣ𐭩 We will share other Tobias Forge works written on A03:

The Witch Ghoulette

Spiders

'*•.¸♡ Can I Sleep At Yours? '*•.¸♡

Professor Forge

The Tour Bus

Restraint

[quokkafoxtrot]

First fill for the Spotify wrapped fic meme 🎉

Mid-80s NY. Hustler!Eddie.

“Step right up! Anyone can do it! Anyone can win!”

“It’s a scam, Steve,” Robin says, narrowing her eyes as she watches Steve bite his lip and stare at the man on the street corner shuffling cards from place to place. “Nobody can actually win those things. They cheat.”

“I bet I can come out on top,” Steve says with a wink and jogs across the street.

Robin huffs a sigh and follows, muttering about not wanting to eat lentils for a week when he loses all his cash.

“We have a discerning gentleman stepping up right now,” the hustler says, warm brown eyes twinkling as he looks Steve up and down. His long brown curls shake around his shoulders, hanging over a multitude of patches and buttons on a ratty, sleeveless, denim jacket. “You know the rules, you’re looking for a lady,” he continues, holding up the cards and showing the queen of hearts between the eight of clubs and the three of diamonds. “See the lady, follow the lady, find the lady. It’s so simple, my aunt’s schnauzer could do it. Only ten bucks to find the lady.”

Steve slaps ten dollars on the rickety table with a grin. “I’ve got this in the bag.”

“A confident one,” the man grins and spreads the cards face down in front of him. “He’s got the guts but will he get the glory? Follow my hands see where it lands.”

Steve looks down at the man’s hands as he flips the cards around at speed, rings glinting in the afternoon sunlight, patter falling from his lips like he was born to spin tales.

“She’s here, she’s there, she’s on the L, the R, she’s in Jamaica, Rockaway Bay, treat her right you could find her tonight.” The guy’s hands are a blur as they move the cards around and around until finally they slow and stop, but Steve stopped looking at those a while ago. “It’s 10pm, do you know where your queens are?”

The guy looks up and finds Steve already looking at him. Steve reaches out a hand and taps a card at random making the guy’s forehead furrow.

“Ooh, I’m sorry,” he says with an exaggerated pout of consolation. “Your princess is in another castle.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says, leaning in and cutting the guy off before he can continue his patter. “I was looking for a king.”

“You- Wuh-“ His jaw drops as he stares at Steve glancing briefly at Robin as she slaps a hand over her face, hiding her eyes.

“Damnit, Munson. What have I told you about hustling from my stoop?” A man grumbles, bell jingling as he pushes open the door to the nearby bodega and stares him down.

“Show’s over, folks! Later, Hop!” The hustler shakes himself out of it, collapsing the table in one swift motion and shoving it under his arm as he backs away, grinning at Steve. “I’m Eddie.”

“You’re dead meat if I catch you again,” Hop says around a plume of cigar smoke.

Eddie laughs and jogs across the street, dodging cars in the slow moving traffic. He turns and bounces on the balls of his feet yelling: “What’s your name?”

“Steve!” He calls back, shifting away from where Hop is watching with tired eyes.

“L’Amour tonight, Steve!” He turns and runs down the street, doing an endearing little fist pump before he turns the corner and disappears from view.

“I hate that that worked out for you,” Robin deadpans beside him. “Well, apart from the fact that you just spent ten dollars to get a date.”

“Date? I didn’t get a date,” Steve says, turning back to Robin and shuffling away from the narrow-eyed gaze of Hop.

“L’Amour is a club, dingus. It’s-“

“Oh… Oh! I thought he was just saying he loved the line.” He slings an arm around her shoulder, jostling her as they walk away. “You’re coming with me, right? I’ll do the dishes for a month. Two months. And I’ll remember to water Audrey.”

Robin sighs, patting his hand and linking their fingers together. “I can’t believe I’m going to Brooklyn for you.”

[ala-baguette]

It's the most loneliest time of the year

Busy trying to finish KwtL and trying to stop myself from getting sidetracked with what has become an annual tradition of writing an angsty Christmas fic. So here's a throw-back to last year's instead. Summary: Four Christmases in which Percy Weasley was alone. And one in which he very much was not. Relationships: Percy/Audrey Rating: T | Words: 5.5k | Read it here or on AO3

Christmas, 1994

As he descended the stairs, Percy’s ears were met with a cacophony of clanking pots and pans from the kitchen.  A mouth-watering aroma wafted up to meet his nostrils.  Oh, dear.  Mum.  We talked about this.  He straightened his dress robes as he brusquely took the last few steps down and turned the corner into the kitchen.

As he predicted, every flat surface was covered in food.  A dozen mince pies were still left after Mum had sent off the majority of the batch to the rest of the family yesterday, and all week she had been baking biscuits and tarts and cakes.  Now, dish-by-dish, Christmas dinner was making its way out of the oven.  Percy’s eyes followed a plate of Yorkshire puddings as it flew across the kitchen and over to the dining table.  It came to rest beside a large chicken surrounded by roast potatoes, parsnips, and Brussels. Mum pocketed her wand after conducting the Yorkshire pudding dance and turned back to resume stirring a gravy at the hob.  Dad smiled at Percy as he entered, then went back to setting the table.  Percy immediately took note of three place settings arranged at one end of the long wooden table.  Why do they never listen to me?

“Mother,” Percy said with a sigh.  “This is too much food for just you and Dad.  I told you not to go overboard; I can’t stay for dinner, remember?  Mr Crouch is counting on me to make sure everything is prepared at Hogwarts.” 

“Well, I thought, you know…  Just in case you changed your mind.”  Then clearly not able to resist reopening their previous argument, Mum chided, “Surely you can have a small bite before you go.”  She waved her spoon at him like a naughty child.  “The Yule Ball doesn’t start until eight o’clock!”

“Yes, I know.  But I want to get there early!” Percy ground out for what felt like the hundredth time.  “There’s so much to prepare and so many people to organise.  Someone needs to make sure everything is getting done—tables to set up and the band and the decorations.  Merlin knows we can’t count on Ludo Bagman for help.”

“I’m sure the House-elves will have all that taken care of.  Really, Percy.”

“There’ll be a feast at the ball, Mother!” he reminded her.  “I really don’t need to eat twice.  I told you this.  I have to go.”

“Come now, Percy,” said Dad, passing a gravy boat to Mum to fill.  “Go easy on us.  This is the first time your mother and I have been alone for Christmas evening since before Bill was born!  Can’t blame us for feeling a bit lonely.”  Dad was smiling at him in that way Percy hated so much.  That patronising smile that said he saw something Percy didn’t.  Which was complete rubbish, of course.  Quite the opposite, in fact!

Why couldn’t they understand that this was important!  He, Percy, was Mr Crouch’s personal assistant, and this was one of his first real tests.  Everything had to go smoothly tonight.  Percy was representing Mr Crouch and nothing could tarnish the reputation of his boss or his department.

Or maybe Dad did understand.  Maybe that was the problem.  Maybe he was jealous that in the first six months of his career, Percy was already becoming more important at the Ministry than Dad ever would.

But Percy could hardly say such thoughts aloud. 

Percy sighed irritably.  The nerve Dad had to go for that guilt trip.  It was hardly his fault that Ginny, Ron, and the twins had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the Yule Ball.  Hardly his fault that Charlie had said he couldn’t justify the expense of travelling back when he’d already visited twice this year.  Hardly his fault that they had uncovered some big new tomb in Egypt, and Bill had needed to cancel his trip home to work on breaking down the curses protecting it.  Why did everything always fall to Percy?  Why was it always his job to keep this family together?

But Mum and Dad were both looking at him expectantly.  And he had to admit that it was rather sad to see them standing there with so many empty chairs around the dining table.  And the Yorkshire pudding did admittedly smell divine.

Percy reached up and smoothed back his hair.  “Ten minutes,” he said in compromise at last.  Honestly, it was really quite magnanimous of him, Percy thought.  “One piece of chicken.  One Yorkshire.  A little gravy.  Then I have to go.”

Mum beamed and rushed to kiss him on the cheek.  Dad smiled approvingly.  Percy took his seat, and Mum began piling far more than just one piece of chicken, one Yorkshire, and a little gravy onto his plate.  Percy swallowed his complaint.  None of them would ever truly appreciate how much he did for this family.

Christmas, 1995

His flat was tiny.  One room.  That was it.  He’d managed to squeeze a bed in one corner awkwardly butted up against the kitchenette.  A desk that doubled as a dining table sat opposite.  Percy suspected the bathroom had once been a cupboard before the crumbling walk-up had been repurposed into ‘chique industrial’ flats.  Hermes had adopted the top of the bookcase as his perch, nestling himself into the hollow between some exposed piping.  He was currently shredding a newspaper for recreation, a repetitive shhhrup echoing in the quiet of the room. 

Outside was anything but quiet.  The honking of Muggle cars and the rumbling of busses and the yelling of merchants was a constant roar outside the single pane window.  But the constancy made it easy enough to ignore.

Percy pushed his glasses up his nose as he scratched out a line on the parchment at his desk.  He scribbled a correction in the margin, then read it through again.  Shhhrup.  He glanced up at Hermes and let out an irritated breath.  Then went back to his work.

Yes, it was Christmas.  Yes, he could have taken the day off.  But he really wanted to finish this report for the office.  As Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic, it was, after all, his job to stay on top of these things.  The Minister was counting on him to keep his administration running smoothly.  With all the wild rumours and accusations the Ministry had to contend with lately… Well, it was all keeping Percy very busy, and he didn’t want to fall any further behind.  He definitely didn’t need any more distractions. 

Against his better judgment, Percy’s eyes strayed from the document he was working on to a letter lying crumpled on the far corner of the desk.  He could still make out the closing line from where it lay:

              Love from your brother,              Bill

Percy felt his lip pull up in a sneer.  Love.  How could any of them claim ‘love’ for him.  They had turned their back on him—the whole family had.  Turned their back on Percy.  Turned their back on the Ministry.  Turned their back on their country!  They had gone off to join some foolish rebellion, and Percy had been left behind as the sole voice of reason.

‘Rebellion’ was the word Percy used when he was feeling generous.  ‘Treason’ was perhaps the more accurate word. 

Percy had spent the last six months distancing himself from his family.  It was just a matter of time before Dumbledore and Potter and everyone associated with them was brought down, and Percy would have nothing to do with it!

But now Bill had the nerve to write to him of father’s injuries.  To encourage him to visit Dad at St Mungo’s and ‘mend fences’.  To say that surely Percy should be ‘able to see how important family is in times like these’. 

How dare he lecture him?  When his father had literally been caught dangerously wounded in the Ministry with some utterly codswollop cover-story about an escaped beast that had been previously confiscated by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?  How thick did they think the Ministry was?  Did they really think that the Ministry didn’t know that Dad had been up to something shady for Dumbledore?  Just because they couldn’t prove it, didn’t mean they didn’t know.

And Percy was just supposed to forgive and forget, just because Dad was injured?  Shouldn’t it mean the opposite?  Shouldn’t something like this be a wake-up call to his family that they had no place getting mixed up in Dumbledore’s insurrection?  Shouldn’t they be the ones coming to him to tell him how wrong they’d been?  To ‘mend fences,’ as Bill had put it?

Shhhrup.

Percy dropped his quill to the desk and a splotch of ink marred his report for the office.  “Do you mind?” he growled at Hermes.  “I’m trying to work here.”

Hermes met his gaze.  The owl cocked his head, blinked once at Percy, then his talons gripped another strip of newspaper deliberately.  Shhhrup.

A growl escaped Percy’s chest.  “You know what?  Here.  If you’re going to do that, why not shred something worth shredding.”  His fist crumpled around Bill’s letter, and he chucked it up on top of the bookcase.  Hermes hopped to dodge the projectile and ruffled his feathers indignantly.

Percy opened his mouth to say something more, but he was cut off by a tap tap tap on the window.  He spun around.  Then was immediately annoyed with himself at the burst of hope and joy he’d felt at the sound.  He paused for a moment, staring at the dark shape on the window ledge outside the glass.  With a sharp release of his breath, he marched over and wrenched the window open.

Errol tumbled in and onto the desk.  The ancient owl was gasping for breath, slumped against the lumpy parcel he’d been carrying.  Percy merely stood there and stared down at him.  A concerned trill came from atop the bookcase.

Percy’s face felt stony as he stared at Errol for a moment.  Then his gaze flitted to the brown paper-wrapped package.  It was lumpy and soft, and Percy had no doubts as to what it contained.  He knew without looking that it would be mustard yellow, because it always was.  Knew there would be not a single dropped stitch.  Knew how it would feel, how it would smell.  He looked back to the owl.

“What are you doing here?”  Errol blinked open tired eyes to look at him questioningly.  “I told her I don’t want anything to do with any of them.”  But Percy’s fingers twitched as a traitorous part of his heart longed to tear open the paper and run his hands across the thick soft wool.  Longed to breathe in the scent of his mother, of his home.  The urge only served to make him angrier. 

“Take it back.”  Hermes let out a warning hiss from atop the bookcase, but Percy ignored him.  “Take it back this instant,” he snapped at Errol.  Errol looked up at Hermes as though begging for help.  The old owl was still slumped and panting and looking utterly exhausted. 

Hermes fluttered down to land next to Errol and glowered up at Percy.  “What?  It’s not my fault they sent him on a long flight to carry a package they knew I didn’t want!” he snapped at Hermes.  Then he turned back to Errol who had still made no move to leave.  “Well?  What are you still doing here?  Go on.  Get out of here!  And take this with you.  Go!”  Hermes snapped his beak angrily at Percy, then turned to nuzzle encouragingly at Errol.  Grasping the parcel in his own talons and nudging Errol toward the window, Hermes spared Percy one last disgusted look before he spread his wings and took flight with the package in tow.  Errol followed tiredly after.

“Fine.  Side with them.  See if I care,” he called out the window after Hermes.  But Percy stood at the open window for a long time after watching them disappear into the night. 

The breeze coming through the window was bitingly cold, but he barely felt it.  He stared after the two owls long lost to the darkness.  Dimly he registered that they were flying northeast, which was not the direction of the Burrow, but he refused to allow himself to wonder why.  It didn’t matter.  Whatever his family was up to, it was none of his concern.  They had made that quite clear.  They had chosen their side.  And so had he.

Slamming the window shut, he turned and marched into the kitchenette.  He bent to retrieve his dinner from the larder, kicking the cupboard door shut after.  He banged the dinner down on the counter and glared down at the packaging.

Mrs Misley’s Magical Meals for One TURKEY ROAST *Tap your wand here and enjoy a warm delicious meal in seconds!

Percy proceeded to prod it so hard with his wand, the packaging ignited.  “Aguamenti!” he yelped, smothering the flames in water.  He let out a long sigh as what appeared to be half frozen turkey soup leaked from the charred packaging.  Cursing under his breath, he scooped the sodden cardboard and some mush that he suspected was supposed to be mashed potatoes into the rubbish bin.  He returned to his desk to finish his report. 

Christmas, 1996

“Weasley.  We’re going,” the Minister snapped through the open kitchen door.  Potter had just swept in from the garden and was returning to his seat at the table with the attitude of a petulant child.  Scrimgeour was clearly in no better mood; he had not even bothered to come in to say goodbye to the family.  The pretence was done with, then.  Thank God.  Just in time.  Because Percy couldn’t have stood a single minute more of it. 

Percy stormed through the back door and slammed it behind him, cutting off his mother’s cry of “Percy, wait!”   He followed Scrimgeour across the garden, the frozen earth crunching angrily under his feet.  Not slowing his speed, he removed his glasses and shook them hard to dislodge the bits of mashed parsnip splattered across them.  He brushed another chunk from his hair impatiently before redonning his specs.

Ahead of him, the Minister was walking faster than Percy would have thought possible with his bad leg and walking stick.  He seemed as eager to be gone as Percy.  Things had clearly not gone well with Potter.  So it had all been for nothing.  Can’t you see they’re using you, Percy?

Percy wanted to hit something.  Fury was bubbling in his chest.  All of this had been to give the Minister an in with Harry Potter.  And Percy had gone along with it.  He’d swallowed his pride and gone along with it because it was his duty.  Because he had trusted that it was in the best interest of the Ministry of Magic.  But it had all been for nothing.  Potter was the most stubborn, pig-headed—

“Dumbledore’s man, through-and-through,” Scrimgeour grumbled under his breath followed by a frustrated growl in the back of his throat.  He shook his head and kept walking, pushing his way through the garden gate.

They were all stubborn.  The whole family was being utterly infuriating.  Why they couldn’t recognise their duty to ally with the Ministry… Why they insisted on sticking to Dumbledore’s secretive agenda when clearly, they were all on the same side… Percy just could not understand them.  None of them.

And yet… Percy had walked into the kitchen a little bit ago.  And he’d smelled the turkey and stuffing.  And he could see the tree covered in fairy lights and Ginny’s paperchains hanging from the rafters in the next room.  And he had seen Mum’s famous Christmas pudding waiting on the counter for dessert.  And he had seen everybody wearing their Weasley jumpers.  And he’d felt Mum hug him, felt her tears on his shoulder, smelled her lemon soap and bergamot scent.  And, just for a fraction of a moment, he had felt like a small child coming down to Christmas dinner.  And he’d had to avert his eyes to keep from wanting it.  Missing it.

Of course the row that started the minute Potter and Scrimgeour had left the room had been very quick to cure him of those thoughts.  Barely had the Minister and Potter left the room before Dad had accosted Percy, demanding to know what Scrimgeour wanted with Potter.  Dad’s voice was still ringing in his ears.  We’re not fools Percy, and neither are you!  Surely you can see what’s happening here.  Surely you can see that he’s just trying to get to Harry.  Can’t you see they’re using you, Percy? Percy felt his teeth grinding together.  What did Dad know of duty. 

Percy followed Scrimgeour through the gate and swung it shut behind him.  The click of the latch echoed in the quiet stillness of the country lane leading into Ottery St. Catchpole.  He looked to Scrimgeour who was now stationary, staring out across the frosted hills and shaking his head with a sour look on his face.  Percy shoved his hands in the pockets of his cloak and waited.  Waited for the Minister to declare the next move.  Waited for his next instruction.  Waited to do his duty to the Ministry of Magic.

But the Minister merely stood there.

It was a full minute later before Scrimgeour seemed to abruptly remember that Percy was there.  He glanced over and looked Percy up and down for brief moment.  He didn’t particularly seem to like what he saw.  “See you at the office,” the Minister growled.  And without so much as a ‘Happy Christmas’, he Disapparated with a pop.

Percy stood on the deserted lane for a long while.  It had grown dark and the cold bit through his cloak.  He glanced back toward the Burrow.  He could just make out the brightly lit kitchen window through the snow-laden vegetation.  The shadows of people moved within the square of warm yellow light.  Then he turned to stare down the road toward the spot where Scrimgeour’s footprints in the snow disappeared.  Beyond stretched a colourless landscape of snowy hills, pastures bordered by low stone walls and scrubby hedges.  Wind ruffled his hair and tugged at his cloak.

Percy spared one last glance toward the Burrow before he too Disapparated.

Christmas, 1997

The rumble of the Muggle street below was the only sound as Percy sat with his elbows propped on his desk, his hands clasped together.  Even Hermes was quiet tonight.  The owl was staring at the window as though expecting something. 

Percy too glanced to the window.  But there was nothing there.  Just as there had been nothing there the last time he’d checked. 

The night stretched on, and still nothing came.  No owl.  No letter.  No soft lumpy package.

Had Mum finally given up on Percy and not made him a jumper this year?  Had something happened to Errol?  Had something happened to his parents?  Would he even hear about it if it had?

Percy reached up to pull off his glasses.  There was a clatter as he dropped them next to his rapidly cooling and hardly touched tray of Mrs Misley’s Magical Meals for One.

And he buried his face in his hands and wept.

Christmas, 1998

We are so late.  The bathroom door was shamelessly open.  Percy had a clear line of sight from where he sat on the foot of the bed.  He chewed a thumb nail as he watched her getting ready, his knee bouncing up and down restlessly.  She kept saying she was almost ready, but her sparkling emerald green dress was still spread on the bed next to him awaiting its wearer more patiently than was Percy.

He cocked his head as Audrey leaned across the bathroom vanity to check her lipstick in the mirror.  It gave Percy a rather pleasant view of her backside, clad only in knickers and sheer stockings.  Her eyes caught his in the reflection and she winked, a small smile curving up her newly red painted lips.  Percy thought she looked rather smug as she turned her attention to her hair.

“You look great.  You don’t have to put so much effort in.  They’re going to love you,” he assured her.

“I know,” she replied, turning around to look at him directly as she ran her brush through straight dark hair.  “Everybody loves me.  I just feel like looking pretty.”

“I’m just saying, no one else is going to be particularly dressed up.  We’re not really that kind of family.”

“Sometimes, I want to dress up for me, you know?”  She laid the brush down on the vanity and gave her reflection one final look over.  “It’s not always about dressing up for other people.”  She smiled at herself, then marched into the bedroom and picked up the dress, stepping into the skirts.

Percy chewed his lip as he watched her.  “Okay.  I’m just saying that if you didn’t want—”

“Oh, my God!” Audrey straightened, and she turned to look at him as though she’d just realised something.  There was a moment’s pause as she studied him, the dress bunched around her hips as though she’d quite forgotten what she was doing.  Percy tried not to stare at her lace-clad breasts.

“What?” Percy asked, startled by her sudden outburst.

Audrey didn’t speak for a moment.  She shimmied her arms into the sleeves, eyeing him with a sudden frown on her face as she did so.  Still with her eyes on him, she reached around to zip up the back.  Percy made to stand to help her, but she just shook her head and did it herself, arching her back to reach the top.  But never once did her eyes stray from his face.  “You’re nervous!” she accused him.

“What?  I’m not—”

“You are!  You’re completely terrified!  You think they’re going to hate me!”

“I don’t think they’re going to hate you.”  He pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Yes, you do!  You’ve been dragging your feet about introducing me to your parents for weeks!  You don’t think I’m going to fit in with your family!”

“It’s not that…”

“Then what?” she demanded, but she had a teasing smile on her red lips.

“They’re going to love you,” he said weakly.

“You said that already,” Audrey insisted.  She was refusing to let him off the hook.  “Fess up.  You’re ashamed of me.”  Her broad grin acknowledged that no man in his right mind could ever be ashamed of her and she knew it.

“You’re going to fit in great with my family,” Percy assured her, shifting uncomfortably.  He found his gaze traveling to his shoes.  “You’re… you’re going to fit in better than I do,” he added in a mumble.

He glanced up at her just in time to see her teasing smile faulter.  “Percy…” she said gently. 

Percy looked away again, leaning his elbows on his knees.  He felt the bed beside him sag as she sat next to him and felt her eyes on the back of his neck.  Then a gentle hand he didn’t deserve caressed the hair back from his forehead.

“It’s not you I’m ashamed of,” he managed softly.  “It’s me.”  She was so quiet, he had to turn to see if her face would show what she thought of that.  But she was merely gazing at him sombrely, her expression inviting him to go on.  “You’ve only ever seen me at work or among friends.  But my family…” Percy bit his lip and stared at the ceiling as he tried to consider the words.  “I’ve done terrible things.  Said terrible things.  I turned my back on them.  For three years, I did everything I could to distance myself from them.  But if I had just done what I should… Maybe I could have helped…  Maybe I could have stopped… Maybe he’d…”  Maybe he’d still be alive.  But Percy couldn’t say those words aloud.  Not even to Audrey.  Especially not to Audrey. 

“Anyway.  Family gatherings… They can be… hard.  Everybody pretending like none of it ever happened.”

Audrey took a moment before she answered.  “Has it occurred to you,” she said at last.  “That maybe they’re not pretending?  That maybe they’ve just moved on?  Forgiven you?  And that maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?” 

Percy glanced at her, and she was gazing at him.  He saw no doubt in her eyes.  She merely seemed as though she were waiting for him to cotton onto something that was terribly obvious to her.

“How could they possibly forgive me for something like that?” he asked her.  And he looked into her eyes, desperate for them to hold an answer to a question he had asked himself a hundred thousand times, but never uttered aloud before this moment.

Audrey just smiled as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.  “Because they love you, you tosser.”

Percy felt a huff of disbelief escape his chest, and he turned away, shaking his head.  “You don’t even know them.”

“I don’t have to.  I know that you love them.  And I know that I love you.  And I have excellent taste, so obviously they agree with me.”

He looked at her sidelong.  And the grin on her face was enough to break through the gloom.  He laughed in spite of himself.  Reaching up, he cupped her cheek in his hand and her smile shifted from mischievous to affectionate.  They simply gazed at each other for a long moment, smiling like idiots. 

“I love you too,” Percy said at last.

“Well, good,” Audrey shrugged.  “Because it would be really inconvenient if I loved you and you didn’t love me ba—”

But Percy cut off whatever wisecrack she might have had in store for him next by pulling her face close and kissing her hard on the mouth.  He felt her grin against his mouth before submitting, and her lips softened against his. 

Percy had kissed her a thousand times and would kiss her a thousand times again, and still he would not have gotten over the thrill at feeling her lips against his.  The way they always moved and parted in time with his as though to a well-choreographed dance he couldn’t remember learning.  The way they made his heart pound and his stomach clench. The way they made him feel like the most important man in the world and the humblest, all at the same time.

Loosing himself in the feeling, Percy buried his hands in her silky hair and felt hers running up his back.  He deepened the kiss contentedly, but she pulled back slightly, and he felt rather than saw her smile.  “I thought you said we were going to be late,” she whispered against his lips.  “I know how you hate being late.”

Percy groaned.  He did hate being late.  Audrey laughed softly, pecking him lightly on the lips before pulling back fully.  They allowed themselves one moment more to simply look into the other’s eyes.  Audrey’s gaze darted down to his lips and a funny smile tugged at her cheek.  Percy thought she was considering kissing him again, but she stood up determinedly.  “Give me a minute to fix the damage you’ve done to my hair and makeup.  Then we can go.”

Percy threw his head back and drew in a deep steadying breath as she disappeared into the bathroom again.

They arrived at the garden gate to the Burrow hand-in-hand.  Percy felt Audrey give his hand a gentle squeeze before they walked up the garden path.  The door was flung open before they could knock.

“Oh, Percy, thank goodness!” Mum flung herself on him, hugging him tightly there on the front stoop.  “I was getting worried!  You’re never late.”  She pulled back and looked him over as though assuring herself that he was alive and whole. 

“Sorry, Mum—” Percy began.  But before he could get another word out, she caught sight of Audrey standing just behind him. 

“Oh, and you must be Audrey!  At last!  We’ve been telling Percy to bring you for weeks and weeks!”  Percy found himself pushed aside as she dove to hug Audrey.  But somehow he didn’t mind one bit.  Audrey smiled at him from over Mum’s shoulder. 

“Oh, you’re so pretty!” Mum said, patting her own hair back as she took Audrey in up and down.  “Come in!  It’s freezing out here!  I’ve knitted you a jumper.  I so hope it fits; Percy wasn’t much help when I asked your size.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Audrey laughed, shooting Percy a mischievous grin.  “Men are so useless at that sort of thing, aren’t they?”  The pair of women walked into the house arm-in-arm in happy excited conversation as though they’d known each other for years, and Percy followed behind.

There was a rush of movement and sound through the crowded kitchen as they entered.  Calls of ‘Hello’ and ‘Happy Christmas’ echoed in the cramped space.  Percy found himself separated from Audrey as Dad came up to hug him and Charlie slapped him on the back and George poured him a drink. 

His head felt like it was floating in all the noise and conversation.  Before he could respond to one person, another was greeting him.  Percy craned his head to check in on how Audrey was getting on;  he saw her shaking hands with Harry and, to her credit, she did not appear painfully starstruck like most people were when meeting him. 

Drinks and half-eaten appetisers were claiming spots at the table, but few people were seated yet.  Percy couldn’t help it as his gaze travelled to a particular empty chair at the table.  He was sure it wasn’t empty by coincidence.  No one wanted to sit in that particular spot.

“Hey!  Looking good, Audrey!” called Bill across the room, cutting into an unpleasant reverie.  Percy turned back to look over to Audrey himself.  She had slipped on her first of what was sure to be many Weasley jumpers and was grinning at him from across the room.  The lumpy olive-green wool far from complimented her sparkly emerald dress, but she wore it with so much confidence, the runway models were sure to be adopting the style by next season.  A small cheer went up around the room and Audrey’s grin widened.    “Percy, dear!  Come and get yours,” Mum called, and Percy picked his way through the throng to them.  As Mum turned to collect another jumper from under the tree, Percy felt his arm wrap around Audrey’s waist.  She squeezed him back.

As he’d known it would be, the soft wool was a mustard yellow.  As he’d known it would, it had not a single dropped stitch.  As he’d known it would, it smelled of lemon soap and bergamot.  “Thanks, Mum,” he said softly, kissing her on the cheek.

“Alright, come along, all of you!” said Mum, waving him off, though she had a touch of a blush on her cheeks.  She began shepherding them all toward the dining table.  “It’s dinner time!” she called to the room at large.  Another cheer and some laughter as the group migrated toward the table.

Percy followed suit, but he paused to look around the room.  For a moment, he just stood there, clutching his Weasley jumper to his chest.  He looked around the table as his family took their seats, all chatting amongst themselves, all laughing and smiling and relaxed.  Their faces were brightly lit by the candles on the dining table.  And before them was a spread of all of his favourite foods.  And Ginny’s paperchains were hanging artfully from the rafters.  And the fire was crackling merrily.  And everything was perfect. 

And yet everything was wrong. 

Percy felt his feet faulter.  They seemed unable to make the final few steps to the table.  His breath was coming fast and shallow.  He felt as though he were caught midway through Apparition.  As though a tight rubber band was compressing his chest.  He didn’t belong here.  He didn’t belong in this warm and loving house, surrounded by warm and loving people.  He didn’t deserve it.  How could it be that he was here and someone else was not.  When it had been Percy who had had squandered their last chance to ever again have them all together in this room.

“Er, Perce,” said George as he pulled out a chair across from him.  Percy blinked several times as he tried to clear his head enough to really take him in.  George gestured to his lips.  “Trying out a new shade?  I think red clashes with your hair a bit.”

Percy merely continued to blinked at him bemusedly for a moment.  Then he felt heat flood to his face, and his hand shot up to scrub at his lips.  Several snickers sounded around the table.  He glanced apologetically to Audrey only to find her grinning at him in a way that reminded him uncannily of Fred.  He sighed.  His glare was made rather less effective by the traitorous smile tugging at his lips.  “You didn’t tell me on purpose.”

Audrey shrugged.  “I thought the shade suited you quite well.”

The kitchen was filled with laughter and the screeching of chairs on the floor as everybody took their seats.  George was still sniggering and Dad was smiling fondly at him and Mum was piling food onto his plate and Audrey was beaming at him.  As fast as it had come, the rubber band around his chest was gone.  When he at last sat down, he felt he was exactly where he belonged.

And when Audrey sat herself in the empty seat beside him— the one seat everyone had been avoiding— no one seemed to mind at all. 

Least of all Percy.

[invisible-pink-toast]

was going through my files and found some unfinished old fics from maybeequeen week back in 2022! i'm going to work on finishing a couple of them but probably will never complete this one, still it's just a little snapshot into chloe's life and her relationships. it was for the birthday prompt:

On Chloe’s 11th birthday, the best part of the day was supposed to be that her mother had promised to be there. Audrey was in London doing some fashion critic thing with British Vogue. Normally the flight over from New York was too long, but the flight from London to Paris was only an hour.

But around lunchtime, Chloe got a voicemail from her mother’s assistant, saying that Audrey was busy with a fashion show, but she wished Chloe a happy 10th birthday. Chloe had curled up on her bed, holding Mr Cuddly as tight as she could, as she tried not to cry. Her mother hated crying. 

In the evening, Andre Bourgeois threw Chloe a party. It was very fancy and sophisticated and Chloe felt very grown up. Unfortunately most of the people who’d been invited where her father’s friends, business associates, political sponsors. And given that it was an eleven-year-olds birthday, all of their wives and husbands and partners and children were invited too. A family event.  ‘We should never waste an opportunity to network, sweetheart.’ Her father had said, fixing his cufflinks, as a stylist did Chloe’s hair. It’s not like the other kids from school would have wanted to come anyway. At least Sabrina, Adrien and Felix were going to be there. 

When the party started, Chloe went around with her father and smiled and introduced herself. She answered the polite and uninteresting questions, gracefully accepted birthday wishes and clenched her teeth as her cheeks got pinched by women who had apparently known her since she was a baby, even though she was sure she’d never seen them before.

Sabrina arrived and Chloe showed off her new dress and new jewelry and told Sabrina all about her new presents, as Sabrina gasped and admired and begged to borrow things. But the real best part of the day was the surprise Chloe got was when the Agreste’s showed up. 

She’s in the middle of falsely smiling at one of the hotel board members when hands grab her around the middle from behind. She yelps, but is only pulled into a hug by a laughing Adrien. 

‘Happy birthday, Chlo!’ He yells in her ear, and then she’s laughing too. A real one, not the simpering little giggle she’s been putting on all night. She turns in his arms and hugs him back. 

‘Adrikins! You came!’ 

‘Of course! But you’ll never believe who else did…’ He says mysteriously, before grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd. 

Aunt Emilie has been awfully sick. She’s been sick for a long time now, but whenever Chloe would ask about it, her godmother would wave away her concerns and say she was fine. Chloe still doesn’t know what she’s sick with. Over the last few years, Emilie’s only gotten worse. She has terrible coughing fits, bouts of confusion or anger that come out of nowhere, and terrible spells that Uncle Gabe calls “episodes”. Chloe has never seen one of the episodes, but Adrien told her they were awful, and made him so scared that he couldn’t get them out of his head.

Several months ago, Emilie took time off of work so she could stay at home, to try to rest to get better. Chloe thought that was a good idea, when she was sick she got to stay home and eat as many sweet things as she ordered, at it always made her feel better. Adrien stopped going out as much, staying at home to keep his mother company. At first Chloe would go over all the time to see them. But as the months passed, Emilie didn’t seem to be getting better. So Uncle Gabe said his wife needed proper rest, and that Chloe should give her the space to do so. Chloe started shortening her visits, then decreasing her visits - first to twice a week, then once a week, then every fortnight - always under her godfather’s watchful and disapproving gaze. Her last visit got cancelled because Emilie needed a visit from the doctor, so Chloe hasn’t seen her for almost a month. 

So when Adrien pulls Chloe through the crowd, she’s expecting to see someone like Jagged Stone or the President. Instead she sees Uncle Gabe, frowning like he always does nowadays, but beside him, grinning without a care in the world, is her Aunt Emilie. 

Chloe gasps and races forwards (in a very undignified way) and throws her arms around Emilie. 

‘Careful, Chloe!’ Gabriel snaps, steadying Emilie with his hand, but Emilie shushes him and wraps her arms tightly around the birthday girl. 

‘I didn’t think you could come?!’ Chloe says, her face still buried in her aunt’s jacket. Emilie runs a hand over Chloe’s fancy hairdo. 

‘Well, I couldn’t miss your 11th birthday now, could I?’ Emilie says, tucking a strand of Chloe’s hair back into place, and Chloe smiles up at her. ‘It’s a very important occasion. Happy birthday, dear.’ 

‘Yes, happy birthday.’ Gabriel echoes. 

Chloe sniffs, and steps back, remembering herself and smoothing out her skirt. ‘Thank you for coming.’ She says politely, but she’s still smiling brightly. That’s when she gets a good look at her aunt. She’s very pale, supporting most of her weight on her cane, and she’s wearing a winter coat even though it’s September. But her smile is just the same as ever, so Chloe puts it out of her mind, and eagerly shows off her party and her presents to her new guests. 

[mrs-lockley]

wip wednesday - sabrina au

author's note: to motivate myself and keep myself accountable, i'll be participating in wip wednesday! here's a snippet of my current wip. the au is based on the 1954 movie sabrina, starring audrey hepburn and humphrey bogart. there is no moon knight in this au. the reader is best friends with steven and has an unrequited crush on marc. the fic will progress into a jake-centered pairing. pairing: platonic!steven grant x southeast asian fem!reader, marc spector x southeast asian fem!reader tagging: @soft-girl-musings @musing-magpie @writefightandflightclub @venting402, thank you so much for your supporting me along this journey!

“That’s amazing!” You told him. The two of you were cross-legged on the floor as you poured him another cup of tea. “I just know the kids are going to love having you as a tour guide in the King Tut exhibit at the Smithsonian.”

Your best friend beamed, a soft red dusting his smiling cheeks. “You think so? I start on Monday. I’m so nervous! I don’t want to mess it up or bore them with all the details, but you know how much I love Ancient Egypt.”

“You’re going to do great. You make history sound so fascinating and entertaining.” You smiled reassuringly at him. “I missed hearing all your schpeals while I was in Singapore.”

“Well, that just means I have to do some more research for you to get you up to speed,” Steven countered, and the two of you laughed. “I’m so happy that you’re back and that I get to meet with you again. We missed you so much.”

Once again, your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Marc missing you. But you quickly dismissed the thought as soon as it came— you and Marc were friends beforehand, after all. You already spent two years away from him, surely you should have gotten a grip over your unrequited crush on a man who had no romantic feelings for you whatsoever. 

Your face must have fallen. Before you caught yourself, you found Steven’s brown eyes washing over you with concern. “You know, love, Marc told me he missed you too. I know you didn’t keep in touch with him frequently like you did with me. Are you doing okay?”

You swallowed hard as the other shoe dropped. As much as you hated to admit, it was true. Compared to the handwritten letters and postcards you sent Steven, your communication with Marc paled in comparison. You reasoned with yourself that the distance would do you good, and the only times you shared any correspondence with him were through some texts and pictures you sent via email. Like Marc, you did not have much social media, and you preferred to keep your private life private. But in the texts you both shared, they were straight-forward. You knew Marc was not fond of communicating through texts, and it was difficult to keep track of when he fronted with the time differences between New York and Singapore. So naturally, he fell through the cracks. 

It’s been a few weeks since you saw Marc, and the last time you spoke with him was when he took you home after picking you up at the airport. You weren’t avoiding him per se, but you also did not trust yourself around him. One look at him, and all the feelings you tried to repress would suddenly rush to the surface. 

“Does he know?” You asked, your voice quiet and hesitant. “About my feelings for him?”

You watched as Steven’s eyes softened. Whether your best friend was telling the truth, or telling you what you needed to hear to avoid hurting you, you weren’t sure. 

“No, he doesn’t.”

[unchataparis]

I gotta say, one of my most hated salt trope is when Gabriel or Audrey prefer Marinette over Adrien and Chloé. They see Marinette as the better child/the more talented/the more deserving and the entire fic's plot revolve around Adrien/Chloé's realisation and concluding devastation over that fact. :/

Salt has a questionable status in this fandom, as it does in most fandoms, but as I've come to unpleasantly realise, most people who are writing salt are, in fact, not twelve or thirteen year olds but full grown adult with jobs, career, even children of their own.

Sometimes, I see posts that are so overwhelmingly filled with hatred for certain characters, it's shocking to realise that you guys aren't being ironic, you're being for real. Your opinion is yours to have, and all of your emotions and feelings are valid. It's always good to be passionate rather than bland. I'm sure that if we were to meet on the streets, no one would be this zealous over their opinion of a children's cartoon show. But I feel like some of you are so sucked into this imaginary, badly-written, fan service-orientated world, you've forgotten your common sense and dedicated effort that this show does not deserve into defending your favourite, mistreated characters.

This show isn't well-written. It has questionable plots and characters. Thomas Astruc is a dubious man. These are all facts that no one is arguing against. But even with all these truths in the air, it still doesn't justify the sheer amount of unregulated hatred reserved for certain characters.

I'm speaking to the 'I live for salt' girlies who churns out Marinette Deserves Better wips on the daily. The people who are swearing at each other on the Internet over whether or not Chloé is a good person and deserves to be redeemed. I'm talking about those who accuse Lovesquare shippers of enabling toxic relationship and misogyny.

What are you talking about?

I don't think any of you truly believe that Miraculous is bad for children or that it's upholding the patriarchy, you're simply grasping onto whimsical straws of social justice in order to advance your own egocentric agenda.

Fandoms are meant to be a safe place to discuss your interests and find like-minded friends who aren't available in your local area. Not a feedback loop of aggrandising, disproportionate speculation.

If you hate the show so much, you're not even watching it anymore and following other people's social media AUs instead – nothing wrong with that, but you do realise that means you have no idea what you're talking about, right? If the show is so terrible and you don't even care about XXX or YYY, why not just leave? Place your time and effort into something that wouldn't make you so angry and dissatisfied?

I've been watching Miraculous for about six years now, and this show has a lot of impact on my artistic and internal psyche and it means a lot to me and I can see both the good and the faults in it. But at the end of the day, the characters of Miraculous are literally just characters. They're not real, they don't have opinions of their own, and they do what they do at the behest of the people writing them. You can't let yourself be consumed by their fictional plights.

Take this statement with a grain of salt and know that there is fluctuations to the fact of it, there are always exceptions, but: fandom arguments are ultimately pointless. There's better, more worthwhile things to do. There's always going to be annoying, infuriating people, you don't want to add yourself to the mix. Think about it, what's your endgame? That everyone will apologise to you and admit that you were right and follow all your opinions? That the writers of the show will change the story and rewrite everything according to your suggestions and 'corrections'? You're bitterly giving all your energy to something that will never reward you.