#maybe rebellion isn’t always the best option

[sagittato]

The Author

I happen to know a story

A Man

A something from the infinite

He had a passion for stories

For love

So He spoke a world with His might

Poked holes in the dark night

He made sure no matter where

There was light

There was life

He knitted some characters based from His own

They had a purpose to fulfill

Before their journey home

He had the maps

He knew the enemies

He knew the solutions

He knew how their road goes

But these characters with stories

They wrote their own

So until they read their stories

And asked the Author if they’re on track

They could never see

The unseen monsters that will attack

They would drag the Author’s beloved characters

To a pit of gnashing and groaning

And when they are there

They are unable to turn back

[dragonwitch77]

Tiny

Chapter 7: What's The Name

Moving stuff around was the easy part.

Organizing things was the hard part.

Limited space and few items to really work with was much harder than he had imagined it would be. Bittergiggle had to keep in mind how he wanted his little hideout to be.

Mostly, an area for his work and joke planning. Space where he can put the two clones where they wouldn’t be in the way. And a place where the kid would go.

Those all should have been simple right?

Wrong.

The hideout was small, with very limited space thanks to the three tanks that took up most of the room. Two of which still had unfinished clones in them. And as he came to find out, the two clones outside the tanks couldn’t stand to be near one another.

Arguing and insults were a constant thing between the two, and Bittergigle was getting tired of slapping them to make them shut up all the time. So they were kept far apart from each other in their usual places.

Which left the kid’s area and his workplace with far less space to work with.

The frown on half of Bittergiggle’s face deepened as he stared at the space. It wasn’t… great. It was only a simple desk with a small area for the kid on the ground. And that wasn’t much.

It didn’t feel fair to the kid to have such a little space. No matter how much he rearranged it, the space didn’t improve. It was still small, and Bittergiggle wasn’t sure if the space would ever get bigger. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to share for now until he figured something out.

He stared down at the tiny jester against his chest. She had been kept busy staring at everything in the room, though Bittergiggle made sure she didn’t see the two clones in the tanks. Somehow he felt seeing a headless and an eyeless lookalike clones wouldn’t be too good of an idea. Even they unnerved him sometimes.

The best he could do was to tape up cloths around the tanks to block them from view. He’ll deal with them later… probably.

Now the jester really had no clue what to do now.

His small hideout had barely changed aside from his space having a few of the kid’s items. He’ll deal with those later. Now all he had to worry about was… well, trying to figure out what to do next.

Pulling the kid out of the sling, Bittergiggle stared at her. He had no clue of what to do now. He guessed he should be parenting her, but what exactly did that mean? Syringeon always came to mind when he tried to think of what parenting was, but quickly dismissed using the surgeon as a perfect example.

The only other parents he knew of were the queen and Sir Dadadoo. The queen had hardly been anywhere near her children due to their aggression, but Dadadoo had been quite tentative to them. The Naughty Ones listened to him.

But how did he do it? Bittergiggle had stayed far away from the Naughty Ones when one nearly bit his head off. And he never really spoke to his old friend much before the failed rebellion. He… he didn’t feel comfortable talking to Dadadoo. Not when he changed so much.

So that set him back to square one.

What was he supposed to do now?

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Top-half spoke up, startling Bittergiggle.

“W… what?”

“You’re usually more talkative than this. Always spewing out new jokes or ideas on how to reach the queen. Instead, you’ve been staring at the kid for a long time.”

“Oh.” Bittergiggle ducked his gaze down to the ground. “Well I… I don’t really know what to do. I never planned on having a kid. And sending her back isn’t an option. And… And there’s… no one to turn to for help.”

It dawned on Bittergiggle as he said these words.

There was no one to help him. Everyone he knew either hated him or wanted him dead. On top of being banished and his goal to make the queen laugh, Bittergiggle couldn’t expect anyone to just drop what they were doing and help him raise a kid.

Syringeon obviously wouldn’t help him. The guy would more likely laugh in his face before kicking him out.

Toadster would never help a criminal. Even if they were old friends, Bittergiggle couldn’t imagine the sheriff wanting to help someone like him. If anything, he’d lock up both Bittergiggle and the kid for good measure, and that wasn’t something Bittergiggle wanted for the kid.

Queen Bouncelia might be a little bit more lenient if she knew he had a kid, but there was still the problem with the sheriff, and Bittergiggle wasn’t sure if she would even grant the kid mercy when he wasn’t even sure if she would grant him any.

Maybe she would think that she was just as bad as him and order Toadster to lock her away, or have Syringeon deal with her, or have the humans get their hands on her, or she might–

Bittergiggle shook his head. He didn’t not want to spiral on what ifs. The kid was fine with him… probably. He just… needed to figure things out.

“So what’s her name?” Top-half spoke up, gaining his attention again. “Does she even have a name?”

“No? I… I haven’t even thought about it–”

“Dude! You GOTTA give her a name! Or at least something to call her!”

“A name would be nice.” Big head spoke up suddenly. “Something sweet and kind. Like Lolly.”

“Lolly? As in Lollipop?”

“No, just Lolly. Maybe Amanda. Or Rosemary.”

“That’s dumb. You should name her something cool! Like Leo! Or, Asher! Or maybe Levi!”

“Those are all boy names.”

“So? They’re cool! Anyone would want to name their kid Leo!”

“If they were a boy! She’s a girl! She should be named something that’s fitting for a girl!”

“Fitting for a girl? You want to name her after a piece of candy!”

“It’s better than naming her a pile of ash.”

“Asher is a good name! Lolly is a stupid name!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

The pair were arguing again, leaving Bittergiggle to stand there and stare at the kid.

They were right. In a way. The kid needed a name. He was getting pretty tired of just referring her to as a mini-jester or tiny. She needed a name. One that would fit and stand out.

Syringeon was pretty good at naming his kids, so it shouldn’t be too difficult for him to come up with something.

He didn’t want to name her Lolly. Or Leo. Or Amanda. Or Asher. Or Rosemary. Or even Levi. He wanted his kid to have a name that really stuck out.

He always liked names with S. One of the many reasons why he liked referring to Toadster as sheriff was because of the S. And because it was the polite thing to do. Maybe it was because his genome came from a snake. He had wanted to name his hand Sir Serenity Serpent Samuel Simmons The Seventh, and would have if he hadn’t lost at the game with the sheriff.

Staring long and hard at the kid, he tried to think up a few names. All had an S, and none of them seemed to fit her quite right. He was starting to give up when something finally popped up in his head.

He turned the name over and over in his head, the half grin on his face growing as he came to like the sound of it.

“Her name should be Mirna!”

“No, Axel!”

“No, Hana!”

“No, Nico!”

“No, Rena–”

“Scylla.”

The arguing came to a stop.

“… What?”

“What?”

Bittergiggle grinned, holding up the tiny jester. “Scylla. Her name will be Scylla.”

“… you want to name your kid Silla?” Top-half gave him a look. “What? You want to make it sound like a joke? Because you’re a jokester?”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Big head said. “Maybe you should pick a different name. One that’s nice and–”

“I’ve picked.” Bittergiggle smiled at the kid, her amethyst and sapphire eyes staring at him curiously. “And her name is Scylla.”

“Worst. Name. Ever.” Top-half huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not calling her that. You need to pick a different name!”

“Or we can pick one for you.” Big head offered, but Bittergiggle shook his head.

“Nope. I’ve picked and that’s the name she’s going by. Scylla.” He smiled at the kid. At Scylla.

Scylla. That was the best name for her.

<Previous/Next>

[virianhaven]

virian hcs please

( excited noises 💬 )

♡ virian headcanons ! ♡

Violet thought having a crush on varian was kinda stupid on her part. she didn’t think he was the type to do relationships, but more so the “married only to his work” type. so she was completely astounded that her feelings were even reciprocated at all

They have very different baking habits. varian is all about precision, following the recipes and instructions to a T so things come out perfectly with the right consistencies and textures, while violet will rebel a bit against the recipes and add more of certain ingredients to get it to her personal liking. this baking rebellion can include overcooking or undercooking just a bit as well. there’s lots of frantic backseat driving from varian, while violet nonchalantly explains why the recipe is “better” with her adjustments.

They’re gossip buddies, they spill tea together while drinking hot chocolate in science beakers

They had a brief debate that varian would grow to be taller than violet, counting on quirin’s tall genes. but both of violet’s parents are on the tall side, so she knows she has a higher chance and is confident varian will always remain shorter than her. ( she likes it that way lol )

I imagine varian’s hands get cramped up a lot when he works ( mostly with inventing stuff ), so violet does thorough hand massages when she sees him, as well as guiding him through little hand and finger stretches

They both like to talk, and therefore will simultaneously have something to say at times. when they recognize this, it’s a constant back and forth of “you first” and “no no you go first”. they’ll both accept the turn to speak and end up speaking at the same time again, which just results in them laughing and possibly forgetting what they needed to say in the first place

Varian collects any merchandise that’s made for the incredibles family ( mostly violet’s ), and has a little place for them much like with Eugene

They both get really irritated when things aren’t working out for them, and usually try their best to calm each other down in those events. sometimes a project isn’t going the way it should and varian will lose his mind when he can’t figure out how to get it back on track, even with the blueprints in front of him. violet will take this as a sign of burnout and do one of a few things ( or all, it depends on what works and what doesn’t ):

- Back hugs, followed by swaying from side to side or just straight up breaking into a silly little dance with him in her arms. an attempt to make him laugh or smile at least

- Taking him on a walk. letting him talk, yell, swing at the air, whatever he needs to do. maybe they stop at a few places on the way

- Hold his hand, intertwine their fingers, breathing in and out, guiding his eyes away from the currently annoying project

- The more destructive option, encouraging him to make something explosive at his chemical station. no thinking, just pouring and mixing and letting it rip.

They’re both pretty prone to mental drainage, at which point they don’t really exchange many words at first, it’s just flopping down somewhere comfy and cuddling. sometimes they’re too tired to even get into a cuddling position and will just pile like a couple of pancakes

They both autonomously start playing with each other’s hair if the opportunity is there

[chaosrealm]

1: My Light [Reiko x Aella]

Description: Reiko must leave to tame Onaga, but Aella has her worries. || Words: 801 || Warnings: None (Let me know if I need to tag anything!)

Mount Tsaagan. For generations, stories were told to the children of Outworld about the Dragon King allegedly being held captive within. Of course, these were nothing but stories to scare them into behaving, right? Aella had believed the same for her entire life: these were but fictional stories to keep children in line - similar to what Earthrealmers called the “Boogeyman.” General Shao insisted that instead of the fictitious Boogeyman, Onaga was very much real… and alive. He was imprisoned because the realms people feared his power was so immense that it could lead to the world's end.

That’s when the General suggested to Reiko that it may be possible to tame him, that someone formidable might be able to accomplish this task. Aella sat in on this conversation, as her opinion was always valued in their war campaign. She felt her heart sink when Reiko agreed to the General’s orders without question. Surely he realizes this is a suicide mission? That there is a possibility that they would never see each other again? 

The general’s voice boomed, snapping her out of her worried trance, “Your thoughts, Aella?” 

“It seems to be our only option,” She clears her throat, fearing her voice could crack, “Recruiting hasn’t exactly been a success…” 

“So it is agreed upon,” The general pushed his chair out and stood straight, Reiko and Aella quickly following suit. “Reiko will ascend Mount Tsaagan and tame Onaga, his departure will be at first light. Aella, you are to stay here and tend to our wounded, as you have been.” 

“Yes, sir.” Aella and Reiko say in unison before leaving the General’s tent to seek out their own. 

No, sir. You are sending the only man I love on a suicide mission, there must be another way.

The thoughts pounded in her head like the drums that played at the Sun Do festival. As she lay next to her lover, his body shed all of its armor, tracing his features as if to memorize them. Although his eyes remained closed at her gentle touch, he could still sense the silent tension in the room. 

“If you have something to say, my light.. say it.” He spoke, hands coming up to hold hers upon his cheeks.

The tears began to well up in Aella’s eyes, but she did her best to keep her composure, not letting even one sob escape her lips. God, he knew me so damn well. 

“We may never see each other again, Reiko.” she whispered, “Onaga is no ordinary foe, and you may die within that damned mountain.” 

Reiko’s eyes finally opened to meet his lover's already watery ones, “It is a risk we must take, Aella. You said yourself that recruiting isn’t going well. What other choice do we have?” 

Aella sighs, resting her forehead against his, “There is no other choice, but-” 

Aella removes her hands from his face, instead wrapping her arms around his neck. Reiko’s arms envelop her waist. He pulls her closer to him until they are skin against skin - heart against heart. 

“You do not need to worry about me. I will return to you.” 

Aella hides her face in his neck, unable to keep her composure any longer she finally lets her tears flow. She clutches onto him for dear life, going so far as to wrap her legs around him. 

“Shhh…” He coos, placing a kiss on her head. 

The night passes, and Reiko eventually falls asleep stroking Aella’s hair to keep her calm, if anything it just keeps her wide awake. Eyes still wide open, she watched as the tent walls flowed in the slight breeze. Aella’s mind still races with what should have been - the child that was taken from them should have grown into a mighty warrior, and this rebellion should have ended with a glorious victory, but those things were behind them now. Her eyes finally fluttered to a close, and for a moment she thought maybe sleep would finally sweep her away from reality for a while. But then she heard birds chirping. 

Reiko immediately awoke, untangling himself from Aella and the blankets around them. He promptly stood from the bed and began putting on his armor for the trip ahead. Aella wilted into the bed, her head now uncomfortably on a pillow instead of her lover's chest. Once Reiko had finished preparing, he took a deep breath and turned to behold his love once more, sitting down lightly on the edge of the bed. 

As his thumb stroked her cheek, it stirred the blazing fire within him. The same fire that desired to not only ascend Mount Tsaagan but to be successful in taming the Dragon King. With that, he kissed her forehead one last time and whispered, “I will return to you, my light.” 

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically) 

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

--

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone. 

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it. 

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness. 

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.” 

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?” 

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them. 

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look. 

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features. 

“It might rain tonight.” 

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction. 

“You distracted me on purpose.” 

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing. 

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.” 

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth. 

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.” 

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?” 

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?” 

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.” 

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.” 

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.” 

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door. 

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force. 

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.” 

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--” 

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.” 

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse. 

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion. 

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.” 

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz. 

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.” 

He turns his head slightly. “You should.” 

“Too bad.” 

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.” 

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.” 

“A look?” 

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.” 

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?” 

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.” 

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.” 

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.” 

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came. 

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.” 

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off. 

“Like what?” 

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.” 

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?” 

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.” 

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.” 

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--” 

“Your upbringing makes sense--” 

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--” 

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.” 

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.” 

And then I keep reading. 

--

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag 

[h2bakugou]

hello! May I please have a Dabi x fem reader in the lov who likes to draw? I think she finds his scars and stuff to be a work of art in itself and is like (oh heck I gotta sketch this). He glances at what she’s drawing and she gets all flustered! Maybe he even takes his shirt off at one point which can lead to some other things~ (I like smut but if you think fluff fits the prompt better that’s alright with me!) Thank you and I love your writing!

a/n: hii! of course love! this is super sweet omg i love dabi, i feel like i dont capture his character very well but imma try like hell😩😩this is probably ooc for him but it’s sappy and i love it

summary: dabi’s hard to read, but that doesn’t stop you from sketching him. you find beauty in his flaws, entranced by his scars, so much so that dabi can’t help but be interested in you.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, sappy romance bc i love this man, some spicy themes, one mention of a slight(possible? idrk what counts) manga spoiler (e.g. dabi’s past/history) (manga spoilers in tags!!)

wordcount: 2k

;cut due to suggestive themes;

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

It’s never been a really big secret that you liked drawing. But when it comes to working for the league, specifically, the League of Villains, your line of work doesn’t allow for very much downtime unless you’re in the midst of planning some sort of attack or rebellion.

Whether or not the league keeps hopping from rendezvous spot to rendezvous spot isn’t up to you, but you never fail to get a little used to the eerily calming silence that falls upon the league during the first twenty-four hours of the new four walls that seem to keep you safe for the time being.

With a barely sharpened pencil in your hand, a small drawing pad in the other, you’re staring at Dabi as you sketch him.

It started as a bit of a joke, maybe just teasing him since he liked to tease you about being into him since you were the only one he was really super close, if you could call being the first one he spoke to every time he saw you or the one you sought out to be paired up with during missions, ‘super close.’

But now, it was something you enjoyed.

Dabi was one among the very interesting members of the league. Something about his scars just seemed to entrance you. Pulling you in further and further down a rabbit hole of questions that you had but never let leave past your lips.

It felt wrong to ask, not that it was a bad thing to be curious, but because Dabi was just so mysterious. No one knew anything about him, or about who he was, his past, even his real name was a mystery. 

It felt wrong to disturb the unnerving peace that was Dabi. The resting expression on his features balancing on a thin cable between anger and poor personal resilience.

Dabi’s scars were the highlight of your sketches, always standing out. What the others may have thought to be ugly, or unattractive, you thought were beautiful, and emotional.

There was a story behind them, one you wanted to know, one you wanted to uncover and read, page by page, line by line, and word for word, discovering just how truly deep Dabi’s past was. But only Dabi could show you that, only Dabi could open that book for you. And you were willing to wait. You’d wait an eternity if you had too.

His rough raven hair is messy and strewn about as you scribble down his facial features, the groggy lighting making it just a tad difficult to see as you lead the pencil over the warm white paper littered with graphite covered fingerprints.

His arms are positioned on a counter, the art work resembling how he was sitting sloped against the kitchen table, elbows pressed against the dark mahogany wood, hands resting by his mouth as his cerulean eyes peer off at the cracked cement wall in front of him, occasionally glancing back at you.

The other members of the league were scattered about but it didn’t bother you. Toga asked you a couple of questions, wondering what you were doing, if you were excited about the new plans and such.

You replied quietly as to not disturb the peace.

But soon some of the members left, going off to go eat or find something to do. And soon you were among the few left behind, along with Dabi, Shigaraki and Mr. Compress.

Having almost finally finished your current sketch, you were stopped by a pair of hands picking up your drawing pad. Rough and calloused fingers drew your pad away and your attention away.

“Hey I’m not finished.” You glanced up at Dabi. Dabi just admired the talent poured into the sketch. Dabi couldn’t wrap his head around why you drew him so often, but he didn’t mind. It was kind of touching in a way.

“Is that really what I look like?” Dabi joked, handing you back your sketch pad.

“You have looked in a mirror once before, right?” You titled your head to the side, adding a bit more detail to his scars as you began to draw again. 

“A few times. But I’d rather look at you, doll.” Dabi’s hands reached down again, this time pulling at your hands. Leading you out of the room where the other two members sat, finding a way to entertain themselves, Dabi lead you up some stairs in questionable condition.

Picking a random room, he sat down on the rickety bed and waited for you to sit down.

“Why’s that?” You tease, returning to drawing, looking up at him every few seconds to reference. And to admire him.

“You’re easy on the eyes, beautiful and-”

“Are you saying you’re not beautiful, Dabi?” You stopped him, not pausing to look at him.

“I’m not beautiful, I’m gorgeous.” Dabi chuckled, shaking his head jokingly as he laid back against the bed, his head dangling off the opposite end.

“You are.” You confirm. Finally finishing up your sketch. You get up and walk over to him, handing him the finished sketch. 

“You add so much detail to my scars. They’re just scars.” The tips of Dabi’s ears flush as heat floods to his face. He’s flustered but he won’t admit it. He can’t understand why you think he’s so beautiful.

You don’t speak. For the first time, you’re speechless. You sit down beside Dabi, and now that he’s sitting up, he faces you.

You reach your hands out and gently lift one of his arms, holding one of his hands in your own. You run your fingers across the scarred flesh, gently caressing his skin. 

His hands are cold compared to your warm fingers. He’s getting chills all down his spine as you touch him. It’s not meant to be anything out of the ordinary, but he’s still shocked that he’s letting you touch him.

“Your scars are beautiful. I’m sure there’s a story, something about them that might make you hate them, but I love them, and I think they make you that much more beautiful. You are a masterpiece, every scar a carefully calculated brushstroke on a beautiful canvas.” Your words finally come out, overflowing with love. You can’t sit quietly anymore.

“Dabi you are beautiful.” Your eyes lock with his, and you can tell he’s unsure of what to do. 

Dabi no longer felt he had the ability to cry, but if he’d let himself, he would’ve done it in that moment. Being so open and vulnerable around you just happened. It came too easily, and he hated it, but he loved you.

Pulling his arm away form your warm touch, he tossed his jacket off and to the side before tearing his shirt away from his body, allowing you to see his chest, and more of his scar covered skin.

Sitting quietly with a faint blush on your cheeks, you couldn’t look away. trying to avoid staring directly at his toned chest and his nipples, you raised your hand and allowed your fingers to sink down across his sternum.

Soon your fingers were met with his abs, which the heat on your face noticed far too well. 

“Say it again.” Dabi mumbled. You lifted your head to look into his eyes again, your hand still resting against his chest.

“You are beautiful-” The moment the words left your lips, Dabi’s own lips were pressed against yours. Kissing you roughly, more than he intended too, his hands mangled into yours, pushing your arms over your head.

His heart was pounding and it felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest onto yours. Pulling away for a few seconds, Dabi’s hair covered his eyes as he looked down, finding interest in the collar of your shirt.

“I want you.” Dabi’s words were simple, but they didn’t have to be complex. You knew what he meant, and you knew what he wanted. You wanted it too. A chance to see him in a different light, with deeper meaning.

A chance to connect with him, one on one. 

“Then take me.” Your fingers intertwined with his, your arms still resting above your head. It didn’t take long for his lips to magnetize back to yours, sticking to them like glue.

When Dabi thought about sex, he didn’t come anywhere close to making love. There wasn’t that sort of option when it came to him. He didn’t think he was at all capable of love, let alone a relationship that was going to have any sort of emotional connection strong enough to make him feel stable.

But you, you were so vastly different from anyone he’d ever fucked. So different from an excuse to get his dick wet, to get his mind off of league business or heaven forbid, his past.

But you, you were what he needed, what he wanted. It was far from therapy, but it’d work. Having you around was like a drug, addicting, and he’d be going through withdrawals if he couldn’t have you.

Feeling you, touching you, fucking you, kissing you, it was fuel to his fire. He was damaged goods, broken and shattered, impossible to put together, but you were doing your best, working on the smallest parts, exercising precautions, and opening your heart to him.

Hearing his name in the form of your moans as he rutted into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips drove him wild, much like the way your hands tangled into his hair, forcing his head into your chest where he kissed and sucked on your skin, leaving marks.

Your moans and his own grunts of pleasure were spewing from the locked room. Dabi didn’t care if the others heard, he was enjoying the moment.

Every part of it. Every part of you, every part of your body, your words, your love. And before he knew, Dabi was at his highest, his face flush against your naked chest, breathing heavily as he inhaled your scent.

Still inside you, he didn’t move, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. It was in this moment, if Dabi allowed himself to cry, he would’ve cried a second time. He was so infatuated with you, so attached.

“I love you.” Your words scared him, causing his cerulean eyes to peak at you through locks of his noir hair.

“That’s stupid.” Dabi kissed your sternum, kissing up your chest, stopping at your neck to leave a little mark, only to meet at your lips in the end.

“How?” You ask softly, your hands massaging his scalp as his lips hover over yours.

“I can’t explain it, it just is.” Dabi frowned, trying to understand what your eyes were saying as they clouded with emotion.

“Love is complex, and I think that maybe you’ve never really had good experiences with it. If you’d let me, I could show you just how beautiful it can be.” You offer, a small smile on your lips.

“If you feel the need-”

“I do. I love you, and I want you to know love.” You kissed his forehead. Dabi eventually pulled out, not minding the mess, he’d clean up later. 

“I want you to know why I love you.” You whispered, hugging him closer to you.

“Why I love your scars, your hands, your strength, the rasp in your voice, all of it. I love.” Dabi’s arms are strung over your waist as he lays, face nuzzled in your neck. It’s a bit of a stretch for him, and he feels out of place, but it’s oddly comfortable.

The next couple of times you draw Dabi, you ask to see him shirtless again. And with every new sketch, there’s something new to be learned, for Dabi. He’s learning about love, and loving you. 

He finds that you still draw him incredibly cute, and though he won’t admit it, he loves when you draw him. He’ll pose for you if you ever ask, and you always tease him a little about how it was like he was born to be a model.

It’s a long road ahead of you, but it’s one you’re willing to take, to show Dabi just how important love is.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[fridayfirefly]

Things Found in the Tampon Aisle

Read Things Found in the Tampon Aisle on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 2 - First Time

It was Dick's first time in the tampon aisle, and he was entirely lost. Cass had sent him to the store to buy chocolate and tampons, but he left his phone at home, which was the reason that he was standing in the middle of the tampon aisle, staring blankly at the wall of tampon boxes, with no clue in the world what kind to buy.

A girl pushing a cart walked down the aisle towards him, typing away at her phone. She was his age, probably also in college, and also probably with some knowledge of how tampons worked.

"Excuse me," Dick ventured.

She looked up at him, her stormy blue eyes focusing on him. "Yes?" Her accent was just slightly French, enough that Dick knew that she wasn't a native English speaker, but not enough that he could pinpoint exactly where she came from.

"My sister sent me to the store to buy tampons, but I left my phone at home and so I can't ask her what kind she wants. I thought I could just wing it but there are just way too many options. I was just wondering, would you have any idea...?"

The girl gave him a bemused look. "I wouldn't happen to know her exact tampon preference, but your best bet would probably be..." She scanned the wall for a moment before grabbing a box and handing it to him. "These."

"Thanks. I was worried that I'd buy something completely wrong, and I'd have to come all the way back to the store to get ones that would work."

"No problem."

"Question number two: why are there so many different types of tampons? How many different versions does a woman need?"

The girl shrugged, still smiling. "Every vagina is different. Different vaginas need different menstrual products."

"Okay, thank you for answering my weird and mildly invasive questions. Question number three: why are they so expensive, if they're a necessity?"

"Ugh. Don't get me started. It's so stupid, how expensive they are, especially since getting your period isn't a choice." Her face brightened up for a moment. "I just realized that we haven't even introduced ourselves yet. I'm Marinette."

"Dick, short for Richard. Or, if you're my brothers, it's short for 'quit being such a dick'."

Marinette laughed. "Your brothers sound interesting. How many do you have?"

Dick sighed. "Three. I love them, but they drive me crazy sometimes."

"I never had any siblings, but I had some crazy friends in high school. We would sneak out at night and roam the city - it's a miracle none of us got killed."

"So you have a dangerous side."

"I wouldn't call it a dangerous side," Marinette giggled. "It was just a little bit of teenage rebellion."

"How about I walk with you while you finish your shopping, and you can tell me more about your teenage rebellion antics."

Marinette smiled at him as they started to walk down the aisles. "Okay, so in middle school, I had this really tight group of friends. We hung out all the time. The only problem was that Adrien's Dad was kind of a bastard, so we had to be sneaky with our fun. That led to us sneaking out every night to mess around in the streets of Paris under the cover of darkness."

"That seems a little dangerous for middle schoolers."

Marinette laughed at Dick's comment. "Just you wait, it gets worse. When we were fourteen, Adrien got really into parkour, so we had the brilliant idea to practice parkour on the rooftops at night. I rolled my ankle three or four times and bruised a few ribs, but I came out of the experience mostly unscathed, with a newfound appreciation for the balconies of Paris."

Dick's eyes widened as she told her story. "I must admit, I expected something a little tamer. Like sneaking out to drink in the park, not parkour on the rooftops." Marinette's story sounded a lot like the kind of thing that his family would do, and that was really saying something.

Marinette blushed, grabbing a box of farfalle pasta off the shelf.  "We were thirteen and thought we were invincible. It was fun while it lasted. All I get out of it now is that I use it as my icebreaker when I have to tell people about myself. People are always impressed by extreme parkour."

"I'll bet." Dick and Marinette got to the checkout line. With his two purchases - tampons and dark chocolate - Dick went first.

Then went Marinette, with her cart full of groceries. One the cashier finished bagging them and Marinette finished paying, she glanced over the receipt. "Oh, I think you forgot to scan the milk." She handed the receipt over for the cashier to check, then paid for her milk, all the while the cashier thanked her.

"It's no problem," Marinette assured the cashier.

Dick was surprised. Most people got excited when the checkout clerk forgot to scan something, but Marinette instead checked herself to make sure she had paid for everything.

Once Marinette and Dick made it out the doors of the grocery store, Marinette turned to him. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Dick."

Dick saw his opportunity and took it. "Could I give you my number, and we could maybe meet up sometime?"

"Sure." Marinette smiled as she wrote her number down on the back of Dick's receipt. "I just moved into a new apartment last week, so I'm a little busy right now, but we should definitely meet up again."

"See you soon," said Dick as she went her separate way. He wasn't going to forget Marinette any time soon. Athletic, trained in jumping from rooftop to rooftop, strong moral compass - Marinette fit all the boxes of a bat. She even had the black hair and blue eyes that his family was known for. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to tell Bruce that he's adopting another daughter.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[heart-stomper]

Unspoken Trust, Unspoken Fears

Gathering my thoughts on Sasha and Marcy’s dynamic before S3 proves me wrong shows us what’s going on with these two.

It’s time to look at The Dinner and Battle of the Bands, and then use it as a guide to read the room in True Colors.

No worries! You just gotta speak their language. - Sasha, Reunion

Or in this case, know when to stay quiet. 

Sasha gets really really frustrated this episode. Like, so bad, that if that Volcakeno didn’t erupt, she might have been the one to end the friendship. Even Marcy and Grime couldn’t calm her down. But that’s the thing, before this point, they were the only ones to get through to Sasha without provoking her.

Grime keeps Sasha in line; she rolls her eyes and is clearly annoyed every time she has to hold herself back, but her willingness to keep it cool shows she ultimately agrees with Grime’s plan and sees it as the best path to success.  When Marcy chimes in, it’s with a helpful answer to Sasha’s question. She reminds Sasha of why they stopped Doing Thing by explaining how their plan failed. She avoids judging Sasha for it, and frames it as the repercussions of their actions, as a group. Marcy is on Sasha’s side, so Sasha doesn’t put up any defenses. When Sasha decides to avoid arguing with Anne however, it isn’t for Anne. It’s for the plan, for her and Grime.

Marcy has enough faith in Sasha to believe she’d never want to purposefully hurt Anne, but is careful about broaching the subject. Sasha feels attacked very easily, and will quickly trivialize or downplay things if she feels the other person is being unreasonable or doesn’t ‘get’ her.

And that is the only time Marcy speaks up besides The Big Argument. She only jumps into actual conflicts if things get too heated. Otherwise, she just lets Sasha do her thing, and lets Anne argue with Sasha... sort of.

This isn’t collaboration. It’s a hostile takeover. Why do things always have to be your way?

Now, for the bait and switch. Let’s talk about Marcy’s behavior in Day at the Aquarium and New Wartwood, and Sasha’s in Toadcatcher and Barrel’s Warhammer… while tying it all back to Battle of Bands!

You didn’t tell me you were writing a song! Let’s do it! I mean, if that’s okay with you, Sasha.

In A Day at the Aquarium, Marcy’s first instinct to Anne saying she’s going back with the Plantars is to make a plan. To show that it isn’t actually what will benefit Anne’s Goals. She doesn’t even consider opening up as an option, and avoids saying anything that could cause conflict. New Wartwood, Marcy tries to chat with the citizens of Wartwood and get to know them. But when that doesn’t work, she decides that impressing them with her knowledge and usefulness is bound to make them like her. It has to.

It does seem simpler.

Trying to win people over by claiming a plan is of mutual interest and necessary, carefully choosing which words to use, viewing relationships as a puzzle to be solved… this isn’t the sort of thing Marcy needs to do to get along with someone like Anne. It’s how Marcy copes with Sasha. Sasha lashes out and belittles bad ideas. Sasha has to be convinced the plan benefits her, suits her. Vulnerability and love aren’t enough to make her care, so Marcy does what she can to prove she’s worth being around. She might even sometimes wonder if Sasha actually likes her, or just likes what she can do for her. She rather not find out.

Whenever she’s afraid of people not liking her, or is worried that she’ll lose them, she dives right into those bad habits. She can give her opinions, but they aren’t supposed to get in the way of what Sasha wants. She’s supposed to say “That’s amazing! What do you think Sash’?” not “Let’s do it!”

Listen. There’s another reason why I’ve been training so hard. To protect the one person I know I can count on right now. You. You’re right, I already lost one friend. I’m not about to lose another. - Sasha, Toadcatcher

In Toadcatcher, there’s that scene, where Sasha looks at the BFF picture and the wind cuts off Anne for a second so it’s just her and Marcy. This is where Sasha is at. Anne might have rebelled, but when Sasha reunites with Marcy? Oh, she’ll show Anne, one way or another. They’ll get her back (like, joining the team or revenge wise, depending on Sasha’s mood.)

Listen here you buffoon! What’s it gonna take to prove that you should follow us? - Barrel’s Warhammer

Aaaand Sasha freaks out royally when she learns the two are alone together and doing just fine. On some level, she fears Anne and Marcy “getting along without her” because it means they might decide they don’t actually need her to make plans; that she isn’t necessary to have fun. In the The Sleepover to End All Sleepovers, we see that isn’t as big a catastrophe as Sasha seems to think it’d be. As time goes on, the girls do gain a healthier relationship to their feelings about Sasha, but that doesn’t mean they’d want her gone even if they don’t need her there. But Sasha doesn’t know that, she doesn’t even consider it till reuniting in The Third Temple. All she knows for now, is that she can be a bit... much... so if she isn’t in control, if her way isn’t “the best”, why would Marcy put up with her either? 

Listen. If things get too wild out here, just give me a signal and I’ll call the whole thing off. 

 For sure, teach it to us Anne. 

Every Sasha plan starts with an empty reassurance. So much of Sasha’s dialogue follows a pattern where she says stuff like “we’ll call it off” (she did not call it off) and “for sure, I don’t mind” (she did mind) that it could be it’s own game. Sasha talks the talk, until it gets in the way of what she wants.

Sorry guys, but we’re way to close to bail. I am not going back empty-handed.

It’s good. I just have a few tiny notes that I think could make it even better. ... Boom! Fiixed it! 

If they just follow her lead and let her fix it, everything will work out. They should believe in her and trust her. After all...

That’s not true! Besides, we did it. ... You’re not actually gonna throw this all away are you?

I just wanted all of us to succeed. I was just being a good friend. Why couldn’t they see that?

It all worked out, right? Percy and Braddock made it out okay even if she didn’t follow through on her promise. They won, she’s reliable. But of course, Sasha lost something more important than their belief in her abilities, she lost their trust. In Battle of the Bands however, Sasha recognizes that Anne and Marcy don’t want to follow her ambitions and will be pushed away by them just like Percy and Braddock were. So she takes it upon herself to end things, accepting that she’s lost.

Sorry it took so long.

Except this time, she manages to realize that maybe “what she wants” is to be there for her friends. Sasha’s finally had the space to relax and really think about what she wants, at least a little. This isn’t a real battle after all. Doing things her way all the time isn’t as important as she thought. Maybe she should trust in her friends more. A change of pace isn’t “wrong”, just different. It’s fun.

Sorry we lost, Sash’.

Just like Percy and Braddock, Marcy knows Sasha is capable. She understands that Sasha just wants the team to succeed. That’s why she apologizes when Grime beats them in the competition. She wants Sasha to know she appreciates what she did, but keeps it a bit indirect. She gets Sasha probably didn’t want to push them away. Marcy tried to catch herself and back Sasha up, but when Sasha had her argument with Anne, she stayed quiet. She couldn’t bring herself to go against Anne. 

That was ultimately for the best, as Sasha learned a valuable lesson. Except... She’s in too deep with the rebellion to back out now. This is the episode she’d spill the truth and give up on the whole thing, except... Grime. A part of her knows leaving would make Grime her enemy. She can’t risk that. So, she keeps going with the plan. She decides she’ll somehow win it all back. Because the thing she’s actually most afraid of, is losing another friend. 

Sorry things got a little crazy back there. You guys good? ... Sheesh, don’t be a sore loser. Look, I’m gonna stay here and get this toad regime off the ground, but I can totally send you two home if you want. Or, you can stick around and give me a hand! So what’d’ya say?

Sasha’s final offer; the last chance she’s giving the girls to stop acting weird and go back to being her obedient friends who do what she wants. Sasha lost at Toad Tower, but now she’s won. So Anne should go back to normal, she’s supposed to, like some unspoken “rule”.

And Marcy is supposed fall back in line too. The offer and apology are just as much a plea directed at her. Sasha’s trying to be generous, in her own awkward way. She has bit her tongue so far. She’s thrown a temper tantrum or two, but she hasn’t been this forward in asking Marcy for help till now. She wants Marcy to say that everything’s okay. Make it clear she doesn’t think she’s the bad guy, and that she forgives her and wants to be there for her. That they’re on the same page again. She wants Marcy to help make Anne look overly dramatic and silly for making such a big deal of all this. Sure, if Anne figures that out by herself, that’d be great, but if Marcy could just speak up.

But she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.

Marcy’s too busy worrying about Anne’s reaction. Knowing that she’ll be upset about this. She doesn’t dare side with Sasha, and is disappointed and betrayed that she actually did something like this. Marcy already has her own secret plans, so when she finally tries to calm things down, all she can give is a non-descript “we can still fix this”. And then, she’s once again shocked when she sees Sasha threaten Anne and the Plantars. Seeing Sasha act so willing to actually hurt people rather than just push them around... it finally hits her just how serious “tried to kill them” was. And of course, losing Anne or being sent home with her would completely mess up her own plans.

Sasha’s isn’t a vulnerable person. She’ll go on about loving her friends if it makes her look good, but she actively avoids doing anything that could be seen as “weak”. She wouldn’t dare ask Marcy to drop Anne and choose her. If Marcy isn’t speaking up, she can take the hint. She still isn’t on her side, and so she gets sent to the dungeon along with the rest of them.

Marcy accepts that Sasha has become an obstacle, but a part of her still hopes the three of them can work through all this. If they do things her way, nobody has to get hurt. She'll figure out a way hold everything together, fix everything, like always.

And then Andrias betrays her.

Yeah, what plan?

Sasha stops talking once she realizes what’s going on. Quietly fuming as Marcy explains herself. The music box, the suggestion to take it back to Andrias... that wasn’t Marcy being the sweet, supportive friend who Sasha thought she could always rely on, who believed in her... that was Marcy using her. It was never going to become their plan; Marcy never trusted her and was actively working against her. Sasha lost Anne, and she never had a chance at getting Marcy back, either. 

Sasha smacks Marcy away when she desperately tries to justify herself. She doesn’t want to hear it anymore. She’s furious that Marcy thinks they could be friends after something like this, after she’s manipulated them and claimed it was for their sakes. This whole time, her goal had been avoiding the move with her parents. And coming here has only torn them apart even worse.

Marcy reaches out to both girls. And when Sasha rejects her, she clings to Anne, hoping at least she’ll find it in her to forgive her. That she’ll understand she cares about them even if she messed up. Marcy knows they’d probably never pick her over their families or ambitions, so she told herself this place offered those things too. Made them all better people. But as she says her excuses out loud, she can’t find a single one that feels right. She was just afraid of losing them, and now, she’s managed to hurt them on top of that. 

But the thing is. After all that. Despite how betrayed and hurt and angry Sasha was, she looks like this:

Sasha realizes this must be exactly how Anne felt about her betrayal. It isn’t just an abstract “hurt” or “bad thing” anymore. She can also sympathize with how Marcy feels and why she did it, at least a little. She can’t imagine being able to forgive this, and yet... when she looks to Anne with that apologetic look, she isn’t just hoping Anne will forgive her. She’s also asking for permission to forgive Marcy. Pleading that they all still have a chance to move past this together.

[theeslytherinslut]

12 Grimmauld Place (3/?)

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Remus Lupin x readers brother 

Word Count: 2,072

Warnings: angst, language

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 

It was the only room you’d seen thus far that didn’t have peeling layers of dark-colored paints, ranging from deep emeralds to smoky greys and jet blacks. Instead, it was painted likely the lightest shade of grey Sirius could convince his mother to agree to, but looking around, that was probably the only thing she would’ve approved of in this room. 

Laughing to yourself quietly, you had a stark, strangely sad realization: this was still a teenager's room. Scantily clad Muggle women postered the walls draped across expensive-looking cars, Gryffindor apparel was strewn everywhere possible, what looked to be a Quidditch banner hung from the ceiling, and various Honeydukes wrappings littered the floor. A large, expensive, very elaborately made chair stood in the corner of the room, buried underneath layers of dark clothing. 

“Sorry, probably should’ve cleaned up...wasn’t exactly expecting company though, not that you’re a bother! Merlin, it’s lovely to have someone so love--so...it’s nice to have someone else here.” Sirius finished, as red as the scarlet robes hanging from his canopy bed as he stuttered his way through his explanation. 

“This is...this is incredible,” you said, moving through the room to find a picture of Sirius and James with their arms thrown across each other's shoulders, laughing jovially as Remus shook his finger at them in the distance. Chuckling to yourself, you continued to look at the handful of old pictures that littered his dresser. 

Another picture nearby showed Sirius sneaking up on James as he very clearly flirted with Lily, her face lighting up with laughter as James jumped up in fright. 

“He was always so easy when Lily was around...” Sirius trailed off, smiling sadly at the photos before you. Looking to the other corner of the mirror, you saw three more photos shoved into the cracks. 

The first was a picture of the group of them lounged around the Great Lake; you’d guessed Peter was behind the camera because only the four of them smiled up at you. James’ head lay in Lily’s lap, hers rested on Sirius’ shoulder, who waved up cheerily at you. As Lily sat up to meet James halfway for a quick kiss, Sirius stretched out his arm and pulled in a sheepish looking Remus, ruffling the top of his head affectionately. You smiled at the sight of your brother with his friends. The happiness that radiated from this picture was intoxicating, you never wanted to look away. 

The next was of them in what must’ve been the Gryffindor common room. Being a Slytherin, you’d never seen the inside of anyone else’s common rooms. Large, comfy furniture was placed strategically around the room, drapings of what you’d assumed to be scarlet and gold draped the walls, an inviting fire dominated the center of the room. 

This picture was another of the group of them, but this time a frightened-looking James and a smirking Sirius were evidently getting scolded fiercely by Lily. You laughed upon seeing Remus standing behind Lily in a sort of gesture of good faith but seemingly offered no words to his insolent friends. 

“Hexed a fourth year Slytherin,” he explained, you turned to glare playfully at him, and he smiled, “The git tried to stick gum in my hair! I think there might’ve been an incident with myself and a girlfriend of his, though...Anyway, James caught him just before and...well, he was with Madam Pomfrey for a few days, I think. Lily gave us a right good telling off for that one, came close to Minnie’s scoldings,” Sirius sighed wistfully, likely reliving the day in his head.  

“Wait...” you trailed off upon seeing the last. 

The third picture was in the Great Hall; though many people were in the picture, the center focus seemed to be a group of Slytherin girls standing in the entryway. There, in the center of the photograph, laughing heartily, was you. Your Y/H/C hair was seemingly shining underneath what was likely a very sunny day, your teeth gleaming as you laughed at something someone had said. 

“Is that..?” you turned around, looking to find him sheepishly smirking at his feet. 

“Yes, I believe it is,” he said. A smile was on his face, but he was scrutinizing yours. “I think I nicked it off Remus at some point.”  

“Why?” you shook your head. Surely Sirius Black hadn’t been fawning over you as well? Surely you hadn’t wasted all these years apart because neither one of you had the bollocks. “You could’ve had anybody...” 

“Well, I could--and did,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not proud of my whorish boyhood--though it only seems fair having given my recent dating history, funnily enough, a dementor's kiss is not a hot thing.” he broke off when you let out a rip of laughter. “But all that is behind me. I can still hear James suggesting I settle down with a nice girl instead of working my way through the female half of our year. Remus gave up on that idea long ago, I think.”

His smile turned sad at the mention of his friend, and your eyes fell back to the picture of the two of them being scolded by Lily. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” you said honestly. “The last half of your life...it must’ve been awful. Losing your best mate, your brother essentially, and then being blamed and imprisoned in fucking Azkaban for a decade for it.” 

Sirius didn’t answer, merely looked darkly at the floor. You took your cue to steer the conversation in another direction. Tightening your towel around you, you cleared your throat. 

“So, this nice girl James wanted you to find, any luck thus far? Do I know her?” you asked, lightening the mood. 

“What do you think? This decrepit house isn’t exactly overflowing with options. Unless you count portraits of past, insane, family members, then I’m swimming!” he laughed, skirting around an answer.

“Nothing like a little pureblood incest,” you laughed in return. A draft of cold air blanketed the room, and you shivered. “So, er, I didn’t exactly have time to pack a bag on my way out; you don’t by chance have any clothes you wouldn’t mind me using, do you?” 

“Oh, right! Sorry, it’s absolutely freezing in this drafty old house.” Sirius commented, gesturing to your goosebump covered arms. He turned and clapped his hands, flying to his closet. 

“Well, I’ve got a bunch of my old school clothes in here...Seems dear old Mum had at least half a heart. This stuff might fit you a tad better,” he murmured, running his hands along the swinging clothes in his old closet. After a moment, he let out a barking laugh. “Here!” 

He threw you a maroon hoodie, and you gave him a look, knowing he was teasing you about the housing. Opening the balled up fabric, you smiled despite yourself seeing the front. It was a Gryffindor Quidditch sweatshirt. You grinned giddily as you turned it around and saw Sirius’ last name splayed across the back, complete with his number. What you wouldn’t have given to wear this years ago...

“Did you need pants, too?” Sirius asked, an odd look on his face as you smiled down at his sweatshirt. 

“Oh, no. That’s okay. This looks like it should cover everything--I’m a hot sleeper.” you explained sheepishly.

Turning, you padded softly over to the adjoining bathroom and clicked the door shut. 

What a turn of events. Standing in Sirius Black’s bathroom, you took stock of the night. 

You’d been attacked and almost killed by Fenrir Greyback, only just managing to escape what would have been a horrid death--or worse. After being mended by Madam Pomfrey, Sirius Black was to continue nursing you back to health. Sirius Black, your greatest childhood crush, and the way your heart hammered in your chest even now told you it might not be all the way extinguished. Never once did you think you’d see where he lived, let alone be undressing in his bedroom. 

And his bedroom...what a time capsule it was. It made you feel like you were in school again, hoping to catch him in the hallways between classes, always peering through the stacks of books as he and James teased Remus during his studies. And further, it seemed all that time you hadn’t been the only one watching. Sirius Black had been watching you almost as much as you had him in your school years. Evident in that hidden in his bedroom was a photo of you, a photo you didn’t know he snuck. A photo surrounded by the greatest hits of his school years, surrounded by those he considered family. 

Trying not to let it all go to your head, you groaned when you slipped the sweatshirt over your head. Though the pain in your body wanted to bring you back to reality, the full, uninhibited scent of Sirius sent you reeling once more. A sickly sweet, smoky scent was the most noticeable. Tobacco, maybe? Suddenly, the image of a young Sirius lounged beneath a tree on the skirts of the Great Lake was brought to mind, smoke rolling from his mouth as he brought his hand down from his lips. Of course, another inherently muggle form of rebellion, a double whammy to his family. 

Something woodsy lingered underneath, as if the hoodie had been swaying in the breeze of some forgotten forest for the last twelve years instead of shut up in this abandoned house. Head swimming, you gingerly stepped out into the bedroom before you got lost in your thoughts. 

“So, er, about the bed situa...” Sirius said, trailing off as he turned around to see you leaning against his doorway, sweatshirt draped to the tops of your thighs.

“Sorry, shit, I can put something else on if you want...don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I mean, we’ve known each other all this time--sort of, anyway. I must be like a sister to you...this is probably super weird. I’ll just fetch a pair of pants,” you nervously rambled. Sirius’ face had not changed since he saw you, and you were beginning to feel incredibly anxious about it all. 

“No, no. Seriously, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sirius said, his old playful smile playing on his lips. Rolling your eyes, you damned the blush creeping up your cheeks. 

“Here, I found you these," Sirius said, tossing you a pair of thick brown socks.  "I remember hearing you whine about your hands being cold all the time, figured the same might apply to your toes in an old drafty house like this.” 

“You remember?” you asked him. 

“Yes, well, I overheard you whining about it a time or two, and Remus was always mentioning you whining about being cold...I just remembered, that’s all.” Sirius said, his tone becoming oddly choppy. 

“Well, you’re right. My toes were positively popsicles, but I didn’t want to be a complainer or anything, though...” you trailed off, pulling the thick socks onto your ice-cold feet. 

“Ah yes, get attacked by a murderous werewolf, blast yourself into a wall, shatter a few bones, but lest you complain!” Sirius teased you, smiling once more. 

In the next second of silence that occurred, your stomach rumbled loudly, and you smiled sheepishly. 

“Bastard got me right in the middle of making dinner,” you explained. 

“Well, come on then. I’ll have Kreacher fix us something; what would you like?” Sirius asked, seemingly happy that he could help. 

“What’s he good at?” you shrugged, hungry for anything. Winking at you, Sirius barked for Kreacher as he led you down into the kitchen. 

“Yes, Master?” Kreacher croaked, bowing so lowly his nose brushed against the dusty floor. 

“Fix us some herb dumpling stew, won’t you? And some of those delicious little mince pies you make.” Sirius said, and at once, the elf nodded and stepped over to the stove. 

“And some apple pie?” you asked hopefully as you sank into the seat across from Sirius at the long kitchen table. 

“Whatever she asks, Kreacher,” Sirius commanded, smiling fondly at your excited state. 

“Of course, Master...Kreacher gladly serves those pure of blood...gladly...whatever she asks..” he agreed in his funny speech patterns. 

While Kreacher was cooking, Sirius reckoned it was time to alert Remus and the rest of the Order, and you couldn’t find a reason to disagree.Sighing, you watched him disappear to retrieve Remus.   

[flowerflamestars]

I'm in a very angry-with-the-IC-and-Rhys-in-particular mood, and since I'm just rereading Daylight I was wondering, what is going through Rhysand's mind throughout the events of Daylight? Because it's basically his entire life CRUMBLING around him and I'd love to see the mental gymnastics he does to fit it all into his "I'm the good guy, actually" narrative. Or just his general reaction.

this is a FABULOUS question, thank you!

Daylight! Rhys is, in my opinion, the closest to a canonical (pre-acosf) character representation that I go for. He's so SO fucked up, and sublimating and burying all that trauma has, of course, failed, and it's all manifesting, in all these different directions.

To understand the level on which Rhys is losing his shit, it's important to go back to the very beginning: Rhysand, to Rhysand, is always, always the hero of the story. The down on his luck knight with truth in his heart. The struggling, just man.

He CANNOT seeing beyond himself for even a second. He casts himself in the most important role, as the only person whose personal consequences exist.

His mother, at probable great risk, takes him to Illyria to be trained- the precious, first-born, godly son of Night. To learn to fight- to learn, presumably, her culture- to see what that culture is reduced to, a harshness he will on day have the power to change. Rhys had to be, at some point, a great hope for Not High Fae denizens of the Court.

What does Rhysie learn? Illyria is harsh. Illyria is bad. Backwards and cruel.

He hates his father for...presumably, the crime of being a pretty traditional High Lord? Rhys hates the cruelties! the Court of Nightmares! the broken system!

So what does Rhys do when he has power? he fires everyone. He doesn't like them, he doesn't like whatever they did under his father...so instead of hiring new people, he removes himself entirely from a potential role in changing/mitigating those policies. See also: the Court of Nightmares, cowed occasionally, but not in any way governed by Rhys.

But he's the hero! He's destroyed the oppression! His Court of Just his Bros is made of women and Illyrians!

(Rhys removed the terribleness from his direct experience...because only his experiences matter)

So, Rhys in his head: the struggle, the hero, the man just trying to do it right.

Which brings us to Daylight....and Feyre. I know we can attribute the way the characters stop even remotely being sympathetic between acomaf and...everything else...to poor writing, but I also think there's some (maybe accidental but PERFECT) character work there: in acomaf, pre-acknowledged bond, Feyre is an important possession/ally- she's on the same level as the other members of the Court of Dreams, if the jewel of the collection, a high point in the story Rhys tells himself: HE saved the HERO OF PRYTHIAN

(which...let's not even touch on the fact that the deal he makes in acotar is CREEPY and he can only justify it later. she wasn't someone he wanted to work with in acotar- she was a vulnerable, hot young woman he fully took advantage of)

And then they're mates.

And then, slowly but surely, Feyre's personhood disappears. For two reasons: 1) Feyre is on a pedestal so sky-high it blots out everything. Good, pure, true hero Feyre whose adoration Rhysand needs like air. the happy end of his story, the prize and the salvation, the one who sees him.

and 2) ultimately, to Rhys, Feyre is an extension of him. A symbol: his happiness, his peace, his endless power, what he fought to keep.

She's his whole anchor staying sane, which isn't great, considering...ya know, everything. But the Story is Over. They are Happy.

Except- except- nothing is over. Post fifty straight years of torture, a freefall into war and fuckery, teen marriage and literal death, the consequences for all those things AND THE SHIT RHYS WAS PULLING LONG BEFORE AMARANTHA TURNED HIM INTO A CHEW TOY, are still present.

But now, he has something to protect. His golden future. His puppy Mate.

Because Feyre's safety is the safety of his power and vice versa. Anything he does is justifiable because the loss of Feyre is Not an Option. She is Happy. They Are Happy.

It bleeds into everything- and then it intensifies, because this is the breaking point.

The Az/Lucien thing and Feyre incredibly hurtful blindness? No Rhys isn't going to interfere- Az is so private anyway- if Feyre believes its a romantic bond, Feyre is right, she knows her sister, not that it matters because Elain is totally out of her mind.

Sending Cassian to Illyria? Illyria is a backwards shithole right? They're fierce fighters and that's what Rhys values them for- as the hammer of his power- and nothing else? why would there be anything else? Look at them fighting and hurting each other.

Nesta runs and Cassian is left throwing himself in battles actively trying to die and Rhys? Rhys is totally smug. A problem that hurt Feyre and his brother is GONE.

But it's not gone. Az isn't talking to anyone- and Rhys thinks this probably means Lucien is probably, finally fucking him- but even Feyre understands that Azriel knows where Nesta is. When this is proved (when Elain surfaces and they have the very fun kitchen fight) Rhys isn't happy- but he understands. Azriel has always felt responsible for broken things.

But thats not his job, it's Rhysands job, and Rhys has already made that tough choice for the safety of his own: Nesta has no place here. When she resurfaces inevitably, broke and wanting something, Rhys will stop her before she gets close enough to upset (hurt) Feyre. It's his job.

Cassian goes missing, and Rhysand sets upon what will become his eventual move: Illyria's value is strength. (a martial strength that belongs to RHYS). But they think they can take from him? They can destroy their own best chance? (Rhys recognizes Cassian's value to Illyria even while, you know, ordering him to slaughter Illyrians) They would threaten his power? hurt his family?

Rhys will not allow a world to exist where Feyre can be hurt.

If Illyria can't be controlled, Illyria will be put down, like the rabid creatures they are. (They were always backwards, Rhys thinks. Freeing my mother was the one good thing my father ever did)

But Cassian lives.

Rhys asks Azriel if he's been cursed. Az laughs in his face.

And Cassian is a terrible enemy to have. The strategies the loyalists are using? His, filtered through Rhys. The magical contingencies? Cassian and Az, trying to prevent bloodshed.

Feyre thinks, for a long time, that maybe the rebels have Nesta. What else could compel Cassian to even care? these people keep trying to kill him. they want to kill Rhys. the brothers suffered in the frozen mud at the hands of these monsters, what is Cassian doing?

And then the massacre happens.

And Feyre sick to her stomach, cries when she hears. Rhysand thinks about a little hazel eyed boy who'd never had a bed, a present, who'd been nothing until Rhysand plucked him up- a little boy who'd grown into a dangerous man, who'd just killed every person who ever contributed to his pain. Rhys thinks, knowing he'll have to punish Cassian for this, that it's over.

The camp lords are dead, it has to be over.

(Azriel hears and understands- because he knows damn well Cassian was something before Rhysand, and after despite him. That beneath those repeatedly broken ribs is a heart that was once so big so save him, grown strong enough now to save everyone who was like them: forgotten, abandoned, used.)

It's not over. The mountains are burning. Banners fly on northern wind in a language long dead. They're singing, the spies say, they call him dawn. Loyal-heart-as-dawn.

It's Cassians name. Not that Rhys, who never knew more than a few vile insults in the language of his mother's ancient, proud people, understood it then.

Rhysand, the long-suffering hero of his own story, has been betrayed.

He can risk no more- it's time to end this madness. It's Feyre's idea to use Elain- it's Feyre who is left crying, a betrayal Rhysand will never forget- when Elain, who they've given everything, Elain, perhaps just as broken and wretched as her eldest sister, refuses to help keep Feyre safe.

(Elain refuses to participate in what she sees as genocide, but as we've established, what consequences exist? the ones Rhys feels right in front of his face)

Azriel, Elain, and Lucien run.

Of course, if both Feyre's sisters are capable of betraying her, of course, both of Rhysand's brothers would as well. They are one in the same, aren't they? Marked by destiny, by fate for this hard and terrible work- of course it hurts. Of course- but Rhysand will stop it from hurting Feyre any more.

There's one force in the world that can stand in truth against Illyria. The Darkbringers- their ancestral, ancient conquers.

(Yes, I do think Rhys knows the shitty, shitty history of his court! He just doesn't care! He didn't do it. He's different. He's in Velaris with the common people. He has wings. He's not his father.)

(He is, in fact, far worse)

When he thinks of it, it seems perfect. Illyria will be destroyed- a loss, but a safe one. Keir, will, almost certainly, also be destroyed or at least critically weakened.

Rhysand will stand alone, the man who was willing to do anything for peace. He will rule over an emptied playing field, secure in a world where Feyre is safe.

The Hewn City empties, the armies march- Rhysand holds tight Feyre's hand, says nothing about the fact that nothing, nothing, will stop Keir from killing anyone in front of him when battle starts, and reaches once more for Cassian's mind.

His brother, his friend, his loyal right hand- he begs him to come back. To come home. That they can put down this rebellion and in his love for Cassian everything can go back to how it is meant to be, all of them together.

It does not occur to him to address the hundreds dead. The system he was complicit in and responsible for that ground a culture to dust and ash- what matters is brother against brother should never have turned, and Rhys, in his kindness, will offer Cassian this last chance for honor.

Rhys doesn't want Cassian to die- he wants Cassian by his side- but he will drown the world in blood before he'll lose his crown and hope and Feyre.

And when Cassian dies, falling to the earth in Rhysand's arms, Rhys thinks of penance.

A circle closed.

But of course- Cassian wakes. Death is not done with her right hand anymore than the contract between Lordship and land in immutable. Cassian brought the magic back, brought Illyria back.

Rhys is fighting for something personal- Cassian is fighting for a whole world and future, with everything in himself.

When the new border is drawn, Rhys doesn't despair- sure he's shaking, he's covered in Cassian's blood, his twelve thousand year old walls are smoking and the whole world smells like fucking Nesta Archeron- he's been the victim of curses before.

He won't let it keep him down. He'll be fine. He has Feyre, they're safe. Illyria is going to implode- and maybe, maybe, he'll save some of those that remain when the violence is too much, when they need a real High Lord.

They'll come home. Just like Feyre's sisters will. Rhysand's brothers. They fought for peace and Velaris has it- it is their home.

It's what they fought for, the happy ending, and it's all worth it.

It has to be worth it.

[yandere-daydreams]

Pleaseee do anything to do with Izuku and his huge amounts of strength. Like we know hes powerful asf I just want to hear about how this man will get a bit impatient and he uses 1% of his power and you get blown across the room- you finally realize that Izuku is holding back, and he could snap your neck if he really wanted to.

He’s too strong for his own good, isn’t he? And it’d only get worse when he’s a Pro, with the skill set proper hero and none of the self-restraint, especially when it comes to keeping his Darling in line. His methods aren’t exactly encouraging, but if he’s lucky, you’ll be too busy nursing a dozen broken bones to act out.

Title: Strength.

TW: Graphic Violence, Mentions of Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, and Delusional Mindsets.

~

In his defense, Izuku had never claimed to be a gentle lover.

He wasn’t violent, either, not when you first got together, not when he was still a stuttering, blushing mess who could barely hold your hand without having to hide his face in your shoulder or make up an excuse to let go a little too early. For weeks, every touch was tentative, every kiss preluded by a flurry of nervous questions. By the time he finally calmed down and swallowed his nerves, you’d begun to wonder how he managed to fight villains without asking if they were ‘alright’ every fight minutes. He’d been afraid of hurting you, back then… or, you guess he’d never really been afraid. He’d been aware that he could, and that’d made him anxious, it’d made him hesitant. But, hesitance was a thing that wore off, with experience, and Izuku was good at adjusting. He was adaptive, and you were too relieved your boyfriend could finally put his arm around your waist to notice just how tight his grip could be, from time to time.

That was your mistake, you guess. You should’ve been more attentive.

You should’ve started paying attention when he started leaving bruises.

But, it was too late to regret that now. Izuku wasn’t your boyfriend, anymore, he was your captor, and you weren’t his playful, fragile partner, you were his stubborn, breakable captive, with too much will of your own and not nearly enough love for him. He hadn’t really accepted it, not yet, but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t since the moment he came home, exhausted and irritated and touchy, and since you’d been as reluctant to let him near you as you always were. Every window was locked, the front door serving as the host to half a dozen different deadbolts, but running was second-nature, by now, as was doing anything and everything you could to keep his fingertips from digging into your sides, to keep that monster away from you, even you knew it’d be useless, in the end. 

But, there were things you could to do draw out the process, and that was why you were currently in a half-empty cabinet, your knees pulled into your chest and your back pressed against something hard and uneven and jagged. Hiding wasn’t preferable, but you only had so many options, and it was so, so much better than the alternative.

Izuku was never happy with your small shows of rebellion, but today, he seemed more disgruntled than he usually was. Even from across the apartment, you could hear him, his incoherent mumbling filling what little empty space there might’ve been, making it hard to think, making it hard to breathe, making it impossible not to wince when a door slammed or one of his steps was heavier than it should’ve been. You could hear him looking for you, but his search was half-hearted, at best, and he seemed to be caught between the urge to find you quickly, and the temptation to huff and mutter and stomp until you came out on your own, your head bowed and an apology already playing on your tongue. You didn’t know if he liked to feel strong, but you knew he loved it when you felt weak. Weak enough to let him act like your faultless, innocent, valiant hero, anyway.

“Baby,” He called out, finally choosing to be a little more proactive with his attempts to threaten you into submission. “C’mon, (Y/n), you know I didn’t mean to scare you. I was frustrated, I didn’t want to grab you, but you were trying to get away from me, and it’s been such a long day, and…” He trailed off, a heavy sigh following a moment of silence. “You know I’d never hurt you, right? Not unless you forced my hand. I spend all day fighting people who want me dead, I wouldn’t have a reason to make you hate me, too.”

He wouldn’t have a reason to. He doesn’t want to. Not he won’t, not he couldn’t, just that if he did, you’d be the one to blame. He could go one for hours, like that, trying to convince you that this was for your own good, that if there was a better solution, he’d stop at nothing to find it, but you were still the one being kept prisoner in your own home while he was free to do as he pleased, in the outside world. And, if you tried to reason with him, if you tried to explain that you could keep yourself safe from more than just domestic trivialities and boredom, it’d be his hand around your throat, and your lungs would be the ones left to scream. You couldn’t say he wanted to, but he certainly didn’t need to. He’d just rather listen to you gasping for air than speaking your mind, apparently.

“I know you can hear me, angel.” His voice was colder, now, more collected but no less hostile than it had been. You could hear his footsteps getting closer, growing louder as he moved onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. Reflexively, you curled into yourself, doing your best to limit what little sound your breathing created, but if he knew where you were hiding, he didn’t feel the need to put you out of your misery quickly, only going on in that smooth, empathetic tone he was so fond of. “There’s really no reason to be this stubborn. I love you, and you love me, and if you’d just see things from my perspective, you’d know why having someone warm and welcoming to come home to is so important to me.”

There was a slight pause. You stopped breathing completely as he took a step towards your chosen sanctuary.

“Or, maybe you wouldn’t,” He admitted. “You haven’t tried very hard to understand me, not since we moved in together.” Since he kidnapped you. Since you woke up, handcuffed to someone else’s bed while Izuku tried to explain why this was necessary. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t love me at all, anymore.”

Another step. Something came to rest on the counter above you with a quiet thud.

“Honestly, I’m starting to think you’re too much of a brat to know what’s good for you.”

With that, he brought his fist down on the countertop, and you hardly had time to think before you were flinching back, elbow colliding with the cabinet wall and making the smallest, hollowest noise. So minor and so quiet that, for a moment, you thought Izuku might've missed it.

But, he hadn’t.

Izuku was always so observant, when it came to you.

In the space between one second and another, the cabinet door was thrown open, something hot and crushing latching on to your ankle, dragging you out of your hiding place and out onto the freezing, unforgiving floor, putting out on display for your oh-so-dedicated assailant. Izuku’s expression was neutral, devoid of everything but a narrowed gaze and thin, pursed lips, but his vice-grip was more than enough to express his anger, so tight, so oppressive, it felt like your bones might cave in underneath it, collapse into little more than dust and fragments and helplessness. It was awful. It was painful. Already, tears were building up in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision, making the man above you into little more than a muddled image of tan skin dark eyes and ugly, ugly delusions.

And then, he squeezed.

His free hand came up, his palm pressing against your mouth and stifling your scream, but that did little to soften to blow, to stop something in your ankle from cracking as pressure turned into force, and force turned into fire, racing from your heel to your knee as you tried to kick, tried to writhe, tried to do anything that might lessen the pain. It was pointless. Izuku’s grip was stead-fast, keeping you grounded and forcing you to reach out, instead, your fingers soon tangled in his hair as you pulled at his scalp and pushed at his chest, an effort that only made you feel childish, that only made you feel weak. Yelling wasn’t an option, not when it was all you could do to bite your sobs into whimpers and bury your face in his shirt as you began to cry in earnest, pain and fear turning into something dark and desperate, even if his touch had never done anything to comfort you.

Still, Izuku tried. He didn’t pull you up, didn’t move to help you, but he wrapped an arm around your midriff as you lost the will to struggle and rubbed soft, delicate circles into your side, a gesture you didn’t doubt there’d be bruises for, tomorrow. “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” He started, the words whispered against the crook of your neck. “It’s just…”

There was a light, almost inaudible chuckle. 

You wondered if you’d be able to claw his eyes out before he broke your hands.

“Accidents happen, right?”

[nose-bandaid]

the moon told me so ☾~

Wonwoo x (gender neutral) Reader | soulmate AU angst | 4.5k words

synopsis: in a world where you and your soulmate share a special marking that appears on one’s body at the age of 18 or later. you were wonwoo’s, but wonwoo was no one’s, and you were the fool who didn’t say a word about it. alternatively:

you are in love with jeon wonwoo, but jeon wonwoo isn’t ready to love yet.

a/n: i uh, feel kinda shy posting this lmao but i hope you enjoy:))

sequel: the little flower on your wrist and the epilogue: kairosclerosis

=====

“When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell who?”

Seungkwan sighed and gave you a knowing look. “Wonwoo, who else would I be talking about?”

“I don’t have anything I need to say to him.” You muttered into the warm knitted scarf wrapped around your neck. The snow fell gently around you in large clumps — the kids on your street were sure to be delighted when they wake up to that. It wouldn’t be long before you started seeing snowmen pop up one by one, all with little carrots and hats decorating them, giving them life. However, to you, the snow only added to the weight in your heart. The peaceful, yet lonely atmosphere made you want to curl back into your bed and sleep your sadness away. And then you could hope that maybe when you woke up, all of your problems would be solved.

Yes, that sounded like a much better option, compared to standing around in the cold weather, waiting for a late taxi. But you promised him that you would show up today. As much as you didn’t want to, you weren’t one to break the promises you made. Promises were meant to be kept.

And so, you woke up at a horrid 4 am today and dressed yourself with the best outfit your sluggish mind could think of. All to make sure that you were at the airport on time, just for him.

“Y/n... this might be your last chance. I mean, this is already terribly last minute for you to do so, but we also have no idea when he’ll come back.” Seungkwan’s voice softened when he noticed your stressed demeanour.

“Listen, I know, okay? I’ll tell him today, I’ve been preparing what to say for the past week. I just... I just need to get myself together, that’s all.” The words spilled out of your mouth as you tried to get him to stop nagging.

Before you could get a response, the taxi pulled up in front of you, and you busied yourself with getting a seat in the back while Seungkwan relayed the destination to the driver. He then took a seat in the passenger’s side, leaving you alone in the back with the little present you brought with you by your side.

The whole car ride was silent, minus the soft music that played from the radio — some kind of ambient jazz that only made the atmosphere even more awkward. You fidgeted with the bracelet dangling on your wrist and looked out the window, the yellow beads clinking against each other to add some noise to the silence. The buildings passed by with a blur, and every so often you would come across a location that prompted a treasured memory in you.

The mall that you and Wonwoo would visit almost everyday during middle school. Your parents weren’t the fondest of the idea that you guys were going there so often, but you went either way. There was ice cream to be eaten, game demos to be played, outfits (that you could definitely not afford) to try on, and snacks to be bought.

The arcade that you so daringly visited when you were supposed to be in class. It was Mingyu who had suggested the idea, as a joke, but everyone started getting on board with it and soon you were roped into the adventure too. None of you guys were really the type to skip school, the thought just never visited your mind, and you had other things to worry about. On that day though, you decided to let yourself be just the slightest bit free, and with a little convincing, you got Wonwoo of all people, to come along too.

That day was a blast, the thrill of rebellion, the refreshing taste of freedom, even the stuffiness of the arcade was bearable — your uniform was far too warm for the environment. Miraculously, there was no big punishment for your absence when you returned, just a light scolding, and that simply heightened the excitement of the day. You never pulled such an act ever again, but you most definitely held that memory dear to your heart. Because on that day, Wonwoo’s smiles were almost a thousand times brighter than usual.

Your eyes flickered between the trees that trickled their way into your view, and they steadily grew in numbers to paint a forest in front of you. Though their leaves were barren and their branches were heavy with snow, all you could think of were the lush green forests that surrounded the cottage you visited almost a year ago. The one that you and your friends rented out, the one that housed some of the happiest moments in your life, the one that echoed some of the loudest laughs ever, the one that kept you warm under the cool night, as you snuggled into each other’s arms.

The one that witnessed your life fall apart.

-----

You remembered that dreary day, when Wonwoo pulled you aside from the others and into a little alcove in the forest nearby, a nervous look painted on his face. Your friend group had decided to spend the warm weekend at the cottage to celebrate Wonwoo’s birthday and new soulmate mark. They all insisted that it was tradition to host an all-out celebration for the occasion, despite the boy’s refusals. If they celebrated for the others, they had to celebrate for him as well. 

You were all about to head to the beach for a swim before barbecuing some dinner, the weather was a comfortable mix of the warm sun and the cool breeze. It should’ve been perfect.

Let’s put an emphasis on should’ve.

When you finished changing, before you could catch up to the others who were already dunking themselves into the frigid water, laughter getting lost in the vast forest, Wonwoo stopped you at the front door with a gentle grip on your arm. From the looks of it, he’d been waiting for you for a while.

“Hey y/n... could we talk for a minute?”

And that question brought you to a wooden bench in a small clearing, hidden away from the others’ sight. The sunlight filtered through the leaves above, casting a delicate pattern around you. The air of uneasiness between you two was so contrasting to the mood a few moments ago, that you were immediately filled with worry. The last time you saw Wonwoo, he was laughing his head off with Mingyu and Seokmin over a stupid dad joke that someone made. Now, there was no trace of that former carefree personality.

“Wonwoo what’s up? Is something wrong?”

He bit his lip, clearly deep in thought. “You know how I’m supposed to be getting my mark tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that’s why we all came here to celebrate right? Is it too much for you? I can tell the others to cool off on the partying, I know they can be overwhelming.”

“No it’s not that, I don’t mind it. It’s just... I’m honestly not so sure about this whole soulmate thing.” His voice was small and his shoulder tensed as he awaited your response.

“Like, you’re worried about the mark not showing up tomorrow?”

“No, I’m worried that I won’t be able to love my soulmate the way I’m supposed to.” He clarified, a bit firmer now.

Your heart stopped.

“Well,” You you pursed your lips as your mind raced to gather the best way to respond. “You could always just tell them right? That you’re not ready for a relationship, I’m sure they would understand.”

“But what if I’m never ready?” His confidence had suddenly disappeared, and you could feel that he was getting panicky, so you rested a gentle hand on his thigh to calm him down. “That feels so unfair to them. Like I’m going against fate.”

You swallowed back the emotions building up in your throat. You were hoping for the already low chance that he would be your soulmate, that maybe the stars would be in your favour and offer you an easy happy ending of some sort. After all these years together, you felt that there was almost no way that you couldn’t be paired together in some way. But now, even if you were soulmates, Wonwoo had just denied the only possibility for you to get together. Romantically, at least. Which was unfortunately, what you’ve been hoping for all this time.

“You could always just be friends right? There’s some people out there who just decide to be friends and there’s nothing wrong with that. Soulmates aren’t always about romantic love.” It was the best you could offer. You were fine with pushing back your feelings for him if it meant that he’ll be happy with his decision. The last thing you wanted to do was force your love onto him. 

“Yeah but do you really know anyone who’s done that? Y/n, everyone around us started dating their soulmate the moment they found them. They’re going to come to me with that mindset and I’m going to have to shut them down.” He paused. “The person that they’ve been searching for all their lives will be shutting them down. Don’t you think that’s harsh on my part? That I should just suck it up and get together with them?”

“Wonwoo, I can’t speak up on behalf of your soulmate,” You choked back the pitiful laugh building up in your throat. “but if they’re supposed to be the perfect match for you, I think they would try their best to understand your feelings, because you deserve to be matched with one of the kindest people in the world.”

He didn’t take his gaze off the pebbles his shoes prodded at, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“With that said, let’s just enjoy today, and all the other days to come as we wait for your soulmate. And when they come along, we’ll take things one step at a time, and work through the problem as it plays along. Worrying about it beforehand isn’t going to do you any good, don’t you agree? That’s what you told me before right?”

Wonwoo slowly nodded and slipped his hands back onto his lap. “You’re right, I’m worrying too much about something that hasn’t happened to me yet. What if I don’t even get my mark this year? I won’t be able to totally forget the problem, but I’ll try my best to put it aside for now.” He smiled softly to himself, and you patted his shoulder.

“That’s the spirit! So you wanna go back to the others and go for a swim? If you’re up to it?”

“Yeah, I think that would be nice. Thanks for listening, y/n.” He got up from the bench and offered you a hand which you gratefully took. Silence settled between you too as you made your way out of the forest and back to the beach. The others were quick to notice you and began eagerly calling for you guys to jump in. Before you gave in to their persistent requests, you paused for a moment and started talking again.

“Oh, and Wonwoo?”

He stopped a few steps ahead of you and turned around. “Yeah?” He looked much lighter than he did a few moments ago, but for some reason, your heart broke a little at his happiness.

You gave him a downcast smile, and if he sensed the dismal tone in your voice, he didn’t say anything about it. “Just know that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to love your soulmate platonically. I have a good feeling they’ll understand.”

Maybe you had gotten a bit ahead of yourself that day by assuming that you were going to be soulmates. No matter how much you felt that connection in your heart, Wonwoo himself never showed any signs of feeling it too. This whole thinking-that-he-was-your-soulmate-before-it-was-even-confirmed thing could’ve just been your mind being a mix of delusional and hopeful. But you said what you said, and it’s not like he noticed any of your hints anyways.

And it’s not like he ever will notice.

------

The next day, you woke up with a tight arm wrapped around your waist and the sun shining on your face. If it was any other day, you would’ve simply closed your eyes and fallen back asleep without caring so much about what time it was, but thankfully you had enough sense in you to remember the date.

July 17th.

Lifting your head fully off the pillow, you followed the arm hugging you to find Chan, buried underneath a soft blanket, still snoring away. Nudging him lightly, he stirred and moved his arm to rub his eyes, freeing you.

“Morning, Chan.” You poked his nose.

He let out a few incoherent mumbles before opening his eyes and looking at you. “What?”

“It’s Wonwoo’s birthday we gotta wake up and get the others.”

“Can’t we do that in a few minutes?” He whined, and tried to return to his pillow, but you were quicker, and pulled him into a sitting position.

“No we can’t, silly, we have things to do before he wakes up.” After a little bit of bickering between you two, you finally managed to convince him to get up and he left to go take a shower. You let out a quiet sigh. One down.

Turning to the couch nearby you looked at Jun who was still sleeping soundly.

11 more to go...

By the time everyone woke up and the celebration kicked off, it was already late morning and you all settled on ordering some pizza for lunch and a couple of the boys left to pick up the food (being located in a remote cottage made it a little difficult for a pizza guy to come here out of the blue). As you waited for the food, everyone went about and did their own things to kill the time, and you found Wonwoo sitting alone on the porch. Joining him, you gave him a playful punch on the shoulder and smirked.

“Hey there, birthday boy.” 

He returned the smile with little enthusiasm and you could tell a lot was on his mind.

“Everything good? You’re not worrying about your soulmate are you?” You asked.

Wonwoo averted his eyes from your gaze. “I’m just thinking about it a little bit.”

“So...” You tried your best to play it cool. “I guess what we’re all wondering is whether you’ve gotten your mark or not?” 

You could’ve just dropped the topic and not asked him, more for your own good than his, because you would surely lose it if you spent another minute thinking about your soulmate. On the other hand, it would’ve been a little selfish if you chose to completely ignore the whole getting your mark on your birthday thing, but let’s be honest — what were you going to do after seeing it? Some things are better left unknown, and yet, you asked him anyways.

He hesitated for a moment before rolling up the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing. The sun was bright outside and the humidity was definitely at a high, he must’ve been absolutely melting in that outfit, but now you knew why he dressed so conservatively today. “Yeah, I did.”

He angled himself towards you and you stared at the moon crescent just below his wrist. In place of the stars usually found in the sky, small flowers were scattered here and there. It was a beautiful, yet simple design. 

Unconsciously you crossed your legs and rubbed your ankle, where the exact same design sat, hidden underneath the socks you always wore.

“That design really suits you.”

It was all you could choke out without giving anything away. No matter how hard you tried, nothing could stop the rush of emotions building up in your throat. You wanted to scream out loud, you wanted to cry out to Wonwoo, because what the hell did you do to deserve this fate? Out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be you? You were losing it. 

And so you fled. Like the fool you were, you fled.

Giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder, you excused yourself and went straight back into the cottage and into the bedroom. You didn’t leave until Chan came in and asked if you were alright and to that, you spilled everything. You didn’t care about Wonwoo’s secret at that point, because you just needed to have someone to confide with. Someone to understand you.

Though some of the story was quite a shock to him, especially considering the fact that you’ve been keeping your soulmate mark hidden from all of them, Chan listened to you with all seriousness. In the middle of your rambling, Seungkwan also walked in to see what was taking you so long. The tears on your cheek probably weren’t the best thing for him to see, but deep down, you were happy to have another person to talk to. And as you did, he looked at you with empathetic, almost pitiful eyes.

It was terrible, but still relieving.

You promised each other to keep your secret between the three of you. The others didn’t need any extra drama in their lives, and besides, they weren’t supposed to be aware of Wonwoo’s secret until he decided to tell them himself.

You spent the rest of the vacation distancing yourself from him, and instead, you stuck by Chan and Seungkwan’s sides, and they made sure to take care of you, which was something you’ll forever be grateful for. Whenever Wonwoo made his way towards you, one of them would create some sort of distraction or pipe up a new conversation to drag you away from the man in question. Eventually, he seemed to get the message that you didn’t want to be around him and didn’t try to approach you for the rest of the time there. 

You felt bad. So bad for ignoring him. It was his birthday for God’s sake, and you — his best friend — were ignoring him on his birthday.

It wasn’t his fault. It totally wasn’t his fault for not wanting to be in a relationship. Just like how it wasn’t really your fault for falling head over heels for him. For loving the wrong person. But it happened against your will, and now you have to deal with the consequences of your actions. 

If you had said just one more word to him on that day, would things have turned out differently? Maybe you would’ve gotten together? Maybe you would’ve come to terms as just friends?

Maybe, at least, you wouldn’t have drifted.

-----

“Happy birthday y/n.”

Wonwoo slid a neatly wrapped present across the table and you ripped it open without much hesitation, too excited to see what was inside. 

It was the sweater you’ve always wanted, a soft royal purple that was decorated with constellations along the sleeves and a moon on its chest pocket. Honestly, you were interested in the sweater because it reminded you of a certain someone, and you wanted to wear it because it made you think of him. You hadn’t told him about it though, and you silently wondered how he found out.

“This doesn’t make up for anything though.” You muttered childishly and took a sip of the cool drink in front of you. You were referring to the news he dropped on you just moments before giving you the gift.

He nervously adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry. Even I’m unhappy about moving across the world, but at the same time... y/n... this is my dream.”

You sighed and put down the drink. “I know. I’m just upset that we won’t be able to see each other for who knows how long.” You paused to think for a moment. “How long are you going to be gone for anyways?”

“At least 4 years.” He said in a small voice. “4 years for school and if I can get myself a job...” He let out a sigh in defeat.

“I don’t really know how long I’ll be there for.”

“Wow.” You breathed out. “So like I’ll really have to say goodbye then, right?”

“There’s still time, it’ll take a few months for everything to be planned and settled so don’t worry. But let’s just ignore that for now,” He swatted his hand int he air as if it would get rid of the gloomy mood settling over the table. “So much for a birthday gift right? I’m sorry for bringing this up today of all days, but I thought you deserved to know.” He smiled sadly.

“It’s fine. I appreciate you telling me right away.” You fiddled with the tag of the sweater in your hands. Ah, what the heck. Ripping off the tag entirely, you slipped the sweater on top of the clothes you were currently wearing. It was comfy, albeit a little bit stuffy with all the layers you had on, but you didn’t mind. “Thank you for the sweater by the way, I really like it, how did you know?”

“I had to do a little bit of digging to find that out.” He laughed. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been really close to Chan recently so I asked him if he knew anything about what you wanted for your birthday.”

“Ah.” 

You couldn’t tell if he was hinting something about being jealous of your friendship with Chan, or if he was simply stating what he saw. You also didn’t bother to ask. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes.

After your time at the cottage, things had fallen a little awkward between you two. You didn’t ignore him outright, you still had your usual conversations from time to time, but it was clear that at one point, you fell from best friends to practically acquaintances. Which probably was the opposite of what both of you wanted. While things have slowly been getting better overtime, the awkwardness between you two was still unbearable.

“Also...” He started tentatively.

“Mhm?”

“I was wondering if you got your mark?”

Right. He still doesn’t know. No one knew really, your own mark was still a secret kept between you, Chan, and Seungkwan. And you were planning to keep it what way, especially now that you knew that Wonwoo was literally going to disappear entirely from your life sometime soon. You knew it was a bit of a stretch to assume that. With all the technology that existed in the world, obviously you’d still be able to connect, even if there was a time difference. And surely Wonwoo would visit you guys once in a while. because he wouldn’t completely forget about you... right?

As much as you hated to admit it, no matter how hard the two of you tried, you were bound to lose each other someday. The man you loved, and still love, so dearly, will ambitiously pursue his dreams on the other side of the world while you, the lover, will miss your only chance to set things right.

You were being given another opportunity to tell him about your mark. Life was being kind enough to let you make up for your mistake at the cottage. And yet, you still looked into the eyes of your soulmate, and lied through your teeth, plastering on that same polite smile you’ve used over and over again, whenever someone asked you about your mark.

“No, not yet.” 

“Oh,” His eyes darted away from yours. “I’m sorry for asking.”

“No, no, it’s alright. I guess I’m just one of those rare cases, maybe I’ll finally get it next year.” You gave him a sad smile, which really wasn’t too hard to muster.

“You’ll find your soulmate soon, y/n. Don’t worry about it.” He gave you a reassuring smile and put his hand on top of the one you had on the table.

Yeah, I won’t worry about it.

=====

The taxi jerked to a stop and you gazed into the windows of the busy airport. All kinds of people were bustling about, carrying their luggages, making frantic phone calls, corralling their kids, reuniting with loved ones. The door in front of you opened, and Seungkwan held out a hand to help you up.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

You took his hand and he gently held onto you the entire time he guided you through the winding hallways. People brushed against your shoulder but you were too focused on your racing heart to bother with an apology. When you saw Wonwoo along with a few others in the distance, your fingers nervously tightened their grip on the small gift bag in your hands.

You weren’t ready to see him yet.

There wasn’t enough time for you to create some sort of plan B, because plan A was really starting to sound stupid to you now. When Seungkwan nudged you to go say your goodbyes, you hesitantly shuffled up to him, opting to stare at his sneakers instead of his face. You felt kind of pathetic, to be honest.

“Here, this is for you.” You placed the small box into his hands and gingerly clasped it before finally letting go. He opened it and pulled out a bracelet, its intricate pattern matched the one on your wrist, except his beads were painted a deep navy blue and white. 

“A bracelet?” He questioned as he slipped it onto his wrist, the small bell attached chimed along with its movement. It fit him perfectly. “Thanks y/n, you didn’t have to.”

“How could I not give you something before you go?” You countered.

“Hey, why are you acting like I’m leaving for good or something?” He joked lightly and ruffled your hair, which was rare coming from him. Usually it was the other boys who did that to you, but it’s not like you were going to refuse it. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Well that was a blatant lie. Though neither of you knew when he would be back, it was guaranteed that he would be gone for at least a few years. And if he ended up getting a job there, you might as well kiss goodbye to any chance of seeing him until you can manage your own work life. Maybe one day, you would be able to gather enough money to pay him a visit.

“I just want to make sure you have something to remember me by.” You answered softly, still refusing to look in his eyes. “In case we don’t get to see each other again.”

In case we drift apart like we already have.

“I’ll make sure to stay in contact, I promise.”

You opened your mouth to reply as the first tear dripped onto your cheeks.

I’m your soulmate Wonwoo. Since day one, I’ve always been in love with you, so please come home soon and we can figure things out. I can wait for you.

That’s what you were supposed to say. Your mind screamed at you to say the words you so diligently rehearsed all morning, but instead you asked him in a shaky voice. “Do you think you’re going to meet your soulmate there?” 

He must’ve mistook the regret in your voice as sadness over his departure, because he didn’t question your tone.

“I just might meet them, y/n.” You hated the way he sounded hopeful saying that. And then you proceeded to hate yourself for thinking that way. 

“I really thought my soulmate would be someone here, but I guess not. The world works in funny ways.” He laughed a little, and it just added to the awkwardness between you two. 

But it’s me, I’m your soulmate Wonwoo, do you not feel it too? 

“I also still don’t know if I’m ready to do anything romantically yet.“ He added.

You simply nodded and looked straight into his eyes, vision was blurry with tears, but you still gave him the warmest smile you could possibly muster.

As of today, you’ve finally made your decision. If you were going to say goodbye to him like this, you were also going to say goodbye to the feelings you had for him. You’ll learn to move on. Like any other problem you’ve faced in life, you’ll eventually move on. And if you were going to say goodbye to him like this, you wanted to at least send him off with the best version of you.

He’d always told you he liked your smile.

“I see, well, I won’t keep you any longer and say goodbye then, Wonwoo.” You squeezed his hand firmly for the last time.

He returned the smile. “Goodbye, y/n. We’ll meet again soon.”

[recreancyrpg]

WELCOME TO RECREANCY, NICKY!

You have been accepted for the role of ELLIOT VANITY!

The shelter of his family name and his sister's protection allowed Elliot to be brave without ever having to be tested…at least until now. Now that he's in the Order of the Phoenix, where the stakes are so much higher than a scandal at a dinner party or a sneer in the street from one's social superior, will his bravery last? It's easy to scoff at society's norms when no one is paying attention to make you back up your words with actions, and that's the only sort of scoffing that Elliot has engaged in before. The only sort of rebellion. He has the confidence of an untried youth, and a person can go far on that sort of courage—but far enough to win a war?

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Nicky (she/her)

AGE: 30+

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL:  Moderate. Certainly I will more than meet the minimal requirements every week, and most weeks I expect to post multiple responses on most days, although there will be some days when I don’t post at all; I am more available later in the week than I am in the beginning (and regrettably, not available much at all most Saturdays until the evening, but as I understand that is most people’s best rp day I am perfectly willing to jump into events late and play catch-up after).

ANYTHING ELSE: Squicks: death of cats.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Elliot Alphard Vanity

AGE: 23

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: pronouns: he/him. sexuality: panromantic homosexual. gender: it's complicated.

Elliot has never thought about being anything other than a boy, because as far as he knew growing-up there were only two options and he knew he certainly wasn't a girl. Ergo, there was only one choice left, so he shrugged and went with it. And he's fine with the results, really. Being a wizard isn't hard for him. He's never really leaned-in on what it means to "be" a man, though—and he always quite enjoyed being dressed-up in ruffles and ribbons and mum's old dress robes for his sisters' tea parties and doll balls and garden fashion shows. Had he had better representation of diverse genders, Elliot might not actually be his parents' only son-and-heir—or maybe he would, but with the comforting flourish of cross-dressing and drag and general fluidity to blunt the sharper edges of masculinity when they chafe him. Perhaps that's part of why he's never felt like that role of son-and-heir really fits him. But it's the role he was given, and so he'll fulfill those family obligations…eventually. (He does sort of miss when he was little and his sisters treated him like their own personal living dress-up doll, though. That was the closest he ever came to getting to explore gender presentation outside the binary, and while he was too young at the time to really appreciate and understand the freedom of being himself without being him-self, he did revel in the experience even then. Perhaps he'll have the chance to come more into his own with the Order—or perhaps he's spent so long carving a space for himself out of the box that his parents placed him in when he was born that he no longer knows how to look beyond its confines to find the Elliot he might have been outside it. Or maybe he's fine with the box, and just wants to dress it up a bit more. We'll see. It's definitely something I'd be interested in exploring with him, should the opportunity arise.) As for romance, Elliot has flirted and will doubtless continue to flirt with people regardless of their gender, and he finds both male and female aesthetics attractive, but he appreciates the male form for its carnal attributes more. (In truth, his favorite aesthetic would be one that lies between the classical wixen standards of masculine and feminine, but that's not something he's encountered much of in his life so far.) He enjoys admiring women and flirting with or even dating them, but it's men who make his pulse quicken when the clothing comes off. Which isn't to say he doesn't fall in love with women, because he does; gender has no impact on Elliot's affections. He feels quite positively towards the idea of women in his bed, too. He has no complaints about how much fun it is to take a woman to bed. But while he can, and has, loved women, it's men he mostly lusts for. He considers this perfectly normal, and it was always all to the good in the past because Elliot comes from a school of thought that says it's best for young men to fool-around with other young men, because that way there's less chance of leading them on; less chance of promises—spoken or presumed—that a boy, or more importantly his family, may not want to keep later. Family comes paramount, of course, Elliot was taught that from an early age. That means that regardless of his inclinations or preferences, he knows that someday he will find a proper witch to wed. He knows his duty, even if he's in no rush to rush into it. But with any luck, the witch he falls in love with will be as pragmatic as most pure-blood spouses and will not only allow dalliance but will genuinely enjoy the company of Elliot's other lover(s). Preferably she will have her own extramarital entertainments, too, so that everybody's equally happy whether apart or together. Isn't that the sort of understanding that a proper relationship is built on, after all?

BLOOD STATUS: pure-blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: none.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

On the surface, Elliot seems like nothing more or less than an ordinary bloke, and most people tend to overlook him for that very reason. He's nothing special, nothing significant. He leans into that assumption, happy to pass unremarked and thus unrestrained by society. He knows how to smile at the right jokes, nod to the right people, mouth the right platitudes and pleasantries. And if those empty, obligatory smiles never quite reach his eyes…well, who's going to be looking closely enough at simple, ordinary Elliot Vanity to notice? He's earnest and sincere but not (overly) naive. He understands how the world works; that's exactly why he's always taken care to hold himself a little bit apart from it. Elliot doesn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but he's always preferred omission to outright deception. Better to not be noticed in the first place than to have a spin a lie to cover for yourself, isn't it? Not that he can't lie when he needs to, or has any moral objection to deception for a good cause—not in the least! But when you're a quiet and unpreposing lad with a habit of going overlooked, you have a front row seat to watch all the tenuous stacks of lies built by your more active social peers crinkle and crumble around them when the little details don't quite add up. Elliot thus learned early that it was easier to simply avoid having to spin a lie; then you don't need to worry about keeping it up later. He can be charming when he wants (or needs) to be, of course; he's not a bore. (His parents would never have stood for that.) He's perfectly amiable, perfectly pleasant. But his charm is a quieter, plainer sort than the ostentatious displays put on by most of his peers, so no one really tends to think of him as charming—which means no one tends to suspect they've been charmed by him, either. Elliot is subtle, but he can be sly when he wants to be, too. He's not flashy about that, either, and he doesn't feel the need to boast about his successes when he fools someone, which enables him to keep fooling people later. Ego tends to be most people's undoing, Elliot thinks; that's part of why he's always tried hard not to let himself develop much of one. He hasn't quite succeeded as much as he likes to think. He is, after all, the son of privilege and fortune and elegance, and in a society that puts a great deal of value on the weight of not just bloodline and lineage but the patrilineal descent of a family name, he is the only son. Elliot Vanity was always going to be a sheltered, spoiled boy to a certain extent and maybe a little more than that, even. Having an older sister who paved the way so well—who strove to be so perfect that everyone who looked at him after seeing her would assume that he'd tried and succeeded just the same—helped, but also hindered, because it meant Elliot never had to try even at that. He could simply exist, and be content. With nothing to strive against, he never bothered to learn how to strive for either. Like his sisters, Elliot is a victim of his family's expectations and complacency alike. He wasn't told "don't be smart," like Emma was; it's fine for a son to be smart, as long as he doesn't go so far as to become a swot. (Reading is fine; hiding in his room when there's a party going on in order to read wasn't.) He wasn't told to mind his tongue; he learned that lesson on his own, after seeing what happened to those who didn't. He was told to be charming and pleasant and jovial, told to be someone that people would like to be around. He learned, instead, to be someone unobjectionable—which is much like being liked, only smaller. He never learned to temper his flaws, only to smother them. To suppress rather than improve. The shelter of his family name and his sister's protection allowed Elliot to be brave without ever having to be tested…at least until now. Now that he's in the Order of the Phoenix, where the stakes are so much higher than a scandal at a dinner party or a sneer in the street from one's social superior, will his bravery last? It's easy to scoff at society's norms when no one is paying attention to make you back up your words with actions, and that's the only sort of scoffing that Elliot has engaged in before. The only sort of rebellion. He has the confidence of an untried youth, and a person can go far on that sort of courage—but far enough to win a war? Only time will tell…

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: See more family details here.

Elliot loves his family. That's why he's here, even though he knows he can't tell any of them about his joining the Order of the Phoenix because they would never understand—well, at least he didn't think so. But it turns out that Emma understood better than he would have ever thought; turns out she was here before him. That's his sister: always leading the way for the rest of them, even when her siblings don't always notice or appreciate how hard it has to be. Elliot notices more than Evelyn, though. Well, he's older, he should. Evelyn still has a year left at Hogwarts, she's practically a child. Not that Elliot doesn't dote on his baby sister, because he does—but it's his big sister, the one he's only a year away from in age, that he was always closest to. Eugenia is fine as far as mothers go, Ignatius died so long ago that Elliot remembers him with fond distance, and Evelyn is the baby of the family, the precious younger sibling to be protected and guided. Emma was the other half of Elliot's childhood—at least until Hogwarts pulled them apart for a year, a gap that they somehow never managed to close. A gap that, maybe, now he finally can… Elliot's father died when he was seven. Maybe that was partly why he was so quick to acquiesce to his mother's insistence that there was a right way to be a son-and-heir: he was trying to make-up for the fact that he didn't have a father whose lead he could follow. Trying to make mum proud of him in Ignatius's stead. Maybe that's also why he was so quick to give-up on that plan and decide to wear that expectation as a thin coat to conceal himself behind rather than as an actual identity. Or maybe that was because of Emma: he saw how she embraced the role that their mother laid-out for her, saw how she diminished herself to become "the perfect daughter" and he decided that it was better to hide than shrink. Or maybe Emma sacrificing herself on the altar of those expectations just freed Elliot up enough that he could get away with not following her lead into that void. He was never a hero—heroism is for fools or those with something to prove, and Elliot was never either—but he wasn't a doormat, either. He didn't stick his neck out for other people, but he did have a knack for quietly diverting the attentions of bullies (or of his more boisterous housemates) when they were bothering someone. Not always, of course; sometimes a subtle comment wasn't enough to deflect unwanted interest; sometimes he was more interested in seeing what would happen next than putting a stop to it. But Elliot has never understood the appeal of picking on the underdog—of punching down. Isn't it more funny, more witty, more satisfying to poke the people on the top of the ladder? Yes, that does tend to be him a lot of the time given his position so near the top echelons of pure-blood society, but Elliot's never had any trouble taking a joke. And he certainly believes you shouldn't start something if you can't take it in your turn, so he's especially merciless to those who can't handle themselves when a situation reverses and puts the shoe on the other foot. Maybe that's why he ended-up quietly befriending the very sort of people whom his mum always told him he should look down on. Maybe that's why he wasn't insulated enough by his privilege to fail to see how much of that privilege was built on lies. (Doesn't mean he's necessarily deconstructed all of it, but at least he's caught-on to the artificiality of it all.) Maybe that's why he eventually ended up in the Order of the Phoenix when so many of the wix he'd grown-up with had their eyes turned towards the Dark Lord.

OCCUPATION:

Elliot's occupation is "son and heir" and everything else is just a hobby.That said, he did indeed have a "hobby" of a job for a few years there—insisting to his mother that understanding business would be useful once he inherited the family fortune and was thus responsible for the management thereof; she had to agree with the logic of this point, although she probably didn't expect him to choose a joke shop, of all places, as the means for learning those lessons. Elliot isn't what people think of when they think of a Zonko's employee, either: he's too quiet, too calm. He'd rather curl up in a corner with a book than bounce around the room telling jokes and pulling pranks. But he does like excitement; he just prefers standing well back from the splash-zone and observing from a distance, which made a joke shop—where he sells the products, and thus gets to hear the stories about their use—an ideal diversion for his time. Of course, now that he has a new "hobby" in the form of the Order of the Phoenix, Elliot has decided there's no reason to keep spending time at Zonko's, so he resigns only a week after his induction, much to his mum’s relief—although that relief would be short-lived indeed if she ever found out why he quit.

LIVING SITUATION:

Elliot lives at home in the family estate in Wiltshire. Between the floo and Apparition, it's not too inconvenient—but perhaps once he joins the Order, his sister Emma might invite him to join her in her London flat? After all, they both have to keep the same secrets, so it only makes sense for them to share lodgings outside their parents' gaze—and it's not like they need to keep those secrets from each other, is it?

ORDER OF THE PHOENIX:

Elliot's most obvious use is his very lack of obviousness: as someone who can move among the societal ranks from which many of the Death Eaters are drawn practically unobserved, Elliot is a useful source of information. Of course, other members of the Order are far more enmeshed in said ranks—but Elliot is distinguished from many of them by the fact that (although neither he nor most anyone else knows this) he actually is loyal to the Order, for one, and for another he's so much less noticeable than they are. People are used to seeing Elliot Vanity lurking around the edges of their parties without noticing him; can he sidle in a little closer and see what he can learn without getting spotted and killed? Maybe. Maybe it's worth trying. (Maybe he should snog Lucius Malfoy. The man's a little old for him, but undeniably gorgeous, and Malfoy would certainly be interested—and he certainly knows things, is privy to knowledge, that would help the Order. Elliot could totally flirt with him, or others like him, to get a little closer to information that could help save lives. It's not like it would be a sacrifice. Well, it would be in some cases—the Lestrange brothers, for instance, and not just because one of them dated his sister once; and getting too close to Crabbe’s dead-eyed stare already makes his skin crawl.) But surely he can be more than just another set of ears. For once, he'd like to do more than just observe. He's only just joined the Order of the Phoenix, and he's excited to be here. Excited to be part of something that matters. He just needs to prove—to them and to him, and to Emma—that he belongs, that he's valuable, that he's someone worth noticing instead of overlooking, for once. For once, he wants to be. (While he's a brand new addition to the Order, and thus likely to have to A: be trained and B: prove himself, I think that he'll actually prove to be good in a fight because while it will take him a bit to stop flinching and second-guessing himself in a duel, he's extremely observant and astute at gauging other people, which will help him adapt to and even anticipate his enemy's attacks. Anything that requires an eye for detail is something that Elliot would be helpful with, probably. He might even be useful as an assistant on strategy issues, because while he lacks the experience to necessarily be able to make good proactive suggestions for the Order, said keen-eye is likely to be handy for assessing the strategy of their enemies or targets. An unwillingness to risk others—at least at first—will hold him back there, but Elliot is likely to learn how to see the "bright, clear line" from A to B very quickly and once he grows a thick enough skin to understand that sometimes one has to be ruthless, he'll be able to apply those observations in a helpful way I think.)

RELATIONSHIPS:

His non-Order, pre-Order relationships are surprisingly unchanged by his new allegiance. Elliot has always been the sort of person whose friends take him for granted, assuming he'll be there; assuming he won't object; assuming he'll stay the same. And in large part, they're right and always have been. He's the back-up friend, the one who never gets called first for a gathering but is never unwelcome there, either. For the most part, Elliot likes it that way. Sometimes—sometimes—he wonders wistfully what it would be like to be somebody's first choice, somebody's favorite…but then he thinks about how much effort that would be, and decides he's happy with the way things are, actually. Especially now. Joining the Order would put strain on closer bonds with some of those old friends, but if Elliot Vanity can't make a party—well, the party just goes on without him, and no one will really notice if he's not there. Conversely, if he does show-up, no one is going to question it. No one ever does.

(Obviously all of the following is subject to change upon plotting with players!) Emma Vanity — he always loved his big sister, of course; they were so close in age that when they were small, it was almost more like having a twin than anything else. But then Emma left for Hogwarts and left Elliot behind, and suddenly everything seemed to change. Suddenly Emma had responsibilities that Elliot didn't; suddenly she wasn't just his sister but his older sister, always just a little bit wiser and more experienced. Always just a little bit more. And then…well, it wasn't that she ever became less, of course, but she never quite seemed to be as much of what she'd once been, before. She was still Emma but she was just…well, Emma. Always did what she was supposed to, never caused a fuss, never spoke out of turn, was never ever anything less than perfect. Elliot still loved her, he just didn't think about her much. Took her for granted, assumed she would always be just what she was and no more, no less, ever. Then he came to the Order and found her already here, and it was like someone had blown the blinders away and showed him a whole new sister. Just as he had always allowed the world to overlook him, he had somehow overlooked her. Incredible. He can't wait to get to know her true self now, finally, for the first time since they were small. How wonderful. Nicky Edgecombe — it's probably a good thing they weren't in the same year. Having Nicky in his classes would have been bad for both Elliot's grades and for his reputation of…well…not having a reputation. The problem with Nicky is that she's always been not just enthusiastic, but welcoming—sometimes whether the other party wants to be welcomed or not. Seeing Elliot sitting smirking on the sidelines like that told most of their housemates that he wasn't interesting enough to be worth reaching out to; for Nicky, that just put him in a convenient place from which to be dragged in to things. Elliot rarely protested; part of going with the flow means…well…going with the flow. And Nicky was always fun, if sometimes exhausting and almost always baffling. Elliot knows he can't keep up with her, and honestly doesn't really want to—but he has no objections to running alongside sometimes to catch the show up-closer. He's honestly not even surprised to find her here in the Order of the Phoenix. Where else would someone with such an explosive personality end up? Edgar Bones — for about ten minutes after realizing that his sister definitely has a huge crush on this kid, Elliot is going to be extremely distrustful of Edgar Bones. Then he's going to actually meet him, and probably very quickly decide that no, actually, his big sister has excellent taste in men, in fact, who would have figured? John Dawlish — Elliot doesn't exactly have a crush but…okay, it's a crush. So what? John is forthright and trustworthy and reliable and fair and strong and so so hot. Frankly the surprising thing is that more people don't have a crush on him, Elliot thinks, and he's not ashamed who knows it. He'd rather that John not hear about it from somebody else first, though, so he tries to keep said crush on the down-low for now…but he's not above mooning over the bloke in conversation with people he trusts not to blab, either. Andromeda Tonks — She was the cautionary tale, one that the Vanity family told almost like a fable to scare the children (not so young anymore, when Andromeda left, but there had been other stories before hers along the same theme; hers was simply the most current and the most shocking, because she wasn't just any pure-blood witch she was a Black). Elliot spent his whole youth assuming she must be miserable and lonely and mired in regret, when he bothered to think about her at all—which was more often than it might have been, given how many hushed whispers made reference to her sad fate—but now that he's met her, he realizes those assumptions were utterly wrong. Andromeda is happy. She might not have "everything she ever wanted" (presumably she would have wanted her new family and her old, together; Elliot certainly wouldn't want to give-up his parents or siblings in trade for a lover and child) but she's happy enough. Happier than anyone in the world she left behind would ever admit. Which makes Andromeda just one more piece of proof that so much of what his parents—his whole society—tried to teach him, to base his whole life on, is bullshit. That's in keeping with what Elliot has already observed, yes, but it's also a whole new level of that observation. Because this is Andromeda Black…happy. He's fascinated. And elated for her, of course. But also captivated by her existence, by her reality. By the reality of her. Maybe it's not the most comfortable thing, to be regarded with such unabashed wide-eyed wonder…but it's got to at least be flattering too, right? Right? Ted Tonks — the man who muddied Andromeda Black, who was somehow so enchanting that he lured one of the perfect sisters from the Noble House of Black to be not so toujours in her purity after all. Ted fascinates Elliot in an almost anthropological way: why this wizard, rather than any other? How? Was Tonks the first chink in the family's armor, the first crack that severed first Andromeda and then Sirius from that heretofore impregnable family tree? The scandal of him will live in infamy for generations! And yet, he seems so…normal? Elliot is captivated, but not in the way that Andromeda must have been. He's fascinated by the very ordinariness of Ted Tonks. He's nothing like the man that Elliot pictured before, when he heard the salacious stories and gossip about Andromeda's flight and fall. He's kind and honest and strong and genuine—all qualities that Elliot admires, of course. (And handsome, too. Definitely can't forget that.) But he's also just a man. How did someone so…grounded pull Andromeda Black down from her perch so far above the rest of them? It's incredible. Which makes Ted incredible simply for that feat alone…even if he doesn't look it. Daisy Hookum — He can't say he understands her (how crazy do you have to be to even contemplate the idea of giving up magic voluntarily?) but he understands where she's coming from. Sure, Elliot is quieter—less obsessive—in how he studies things, but he does like to learn and understand new things. People, mainly. That's a large part of why he watches the world the way he does: he's interested. The way Daisy goes through the world, so loud and bubbly and engaged with things, is anathema to him—but he understands why she does it, at least. He admires her for it, even if he shies away from the cacophony of her process; respects her for the urge they share to understand what's alien to them both. Alastor Moody — Elliot definitely. doesn't. have. a. crush. That would be weird! Alastor is so old. He's practically old enough to be Elliot's dad! Well, not quite. (Er, technically…?) But close. Close enough that it would be weird. (Probably.) Anyway, it doesn't matter if Alastor looks kind of a little hot despite being so old, because Elliot does not have a crush. He's just…impressed. By Alastor's competence. And efficiency. And alertness. And leadership. He's a very impressive man, and Elliot recognizes that. That's all. That's all, Emma! James Potter — on one hand, Elliot feels like he owes James (and the other three boys who formed Potter's little cohort) a debt. After all, with them around, it was easy to go overlooked due to always being overshadowed. Whatever Elliot did, whenever he did it, there was always somebody else in Gryffindor Tower doing something bigger, louder, and messier. And they were so good at it, too. They blazed like bonfires, those boys. Especially Potter. Beautiful, irrepressible James Potter. It was hard to look away from the blaze of him, sometimes. On the other hand…Merlin's teeth but they were noisy. Obnoxious, too. And Elliot didn't really fancy the way they tended to flock. Maybe it's because he was always a loner, but he didn't like their habit of outnumbering their prey before they picked a fight. Not that they picked on him much (it often seemed like they picked on everyone a little, because that's what boisterous boys like that were supposed to do, but it was never targeted enough that Elliot thought they were picking on him on purpose) but it was a matter of principle: he didn't like bullies. Not that he ever said much to them in opposition, either, so it's not like he could take a moral stance on the issue. But they made him nervous, those loud, happy, popular, wonderful boys. They seemed to have everything so easy, and to never quite understand how easy it was. Especially James. Especially James. Hearing that Potter was dead…well, it had shaken Elliot a little. Back at Hogwarts James had seemed like the kind of boy who would never die—but on the other hand, if he was going to die, burning out fast and early was fitting. Except he didn't, and now Elliot isn't quite sure what to make of James or his friends. They aren't the two-dimensional caricatures he remembers from Gryffindor Tower; aren't the happy, cheerful, perfectly united, skating-through-life-unscathed icons he always thought they were. They're people, with all the flaws and problems that that entails. Potter and his crew weren't ever Elliot's heroes, by any means, and yet…well, the fact that he didn't worship at their altar doesn't mean he didn't idolize them a little. They might not have been his heroes, but heroes they clearly always were. And now Elliot has met them up close as people, and the illusion is shattered. He supposes he ought to be pleased by that…but mostly, he just feels sad. Wila Travers — he was in the same year as her little sister. They didn't overlap a lot, with Sarai in Hufflepuff and Elliot in Gryffindor, but they shared some classes. And of course they attended the same sorts of social events. So he knew her, and he grieved when she died. Finding out that that didn't happen in the accidental way he had been led to believe…well, that was a shock. Sobering. Finding her sister here, fighting tooth and nail to avenge her…Elliot can understand that. He'd do the same thing for Emma or Evelyn, after all. He's not quite sure exactly how to act around Wila sometimes, because yes he knew her sister but they weren't super close so what's the appropriate way to show that he's sad without seeming ghoulish or exploitative or pretentiously overdone…? Certainly he doesn't dislike Wila! He thinks she's (intimidatingly) clever and (terrifyingly) beautiful. Being around her just feels awkward, because of circumstances that don't really have anything to do with being around her. Regulus Black — the newest addition to the Order before Elliot, yes, but because Regulus was there before him, Elliot will for quite a while at least have no idea that Regulus is such a new addition, nor will he had any reasons to distrust him the way so many others do (not any understanding of why they don't trust Regulus more). Elliot's initial assumption will be that Regulus faked his death years ago to help the Order somehow, and until that's corrected he'll be extremely confused why someone who has given so much to the cause isn't being treated with more respect and acceptance by the rest of their allies. Even after the truth manages to fight its way through Elliot's garbled presumptions and misunderstandings, he'll still lack the innate distrust that so many in the Order feel towards Regulus Black. After all, he's here just his sister is; Regulus is here just like his brother is. Both pure-blood heirs and younger siblings simultaneously, both grew-up closer to the world of their enemies than their allies, both chose to take a stand for right instead of sitting back in the safety of their privilege… Why, they're practically echoes of each other! Why wouldn't he trust—and appreciate—Regulus and his perspective?

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: 

Anything with chemistry. Elliot is very open to relationships of both romantic and casual natures, and while he's rather sweet in the expression of his affections he's not overly sappy either. He can definitely approach things in a pragmatic sense, and he's never experienced much in the way of jealousy. Of course, he's never really fallen in love before, either, for all that he's had several dalliances. So I'm really up for taking him wherever the dash (or Karli's sixth-sense) leads!

INTERPERSONAL STRUGGLES:

One of the hardest things for Elliot is going to be the way his optimism grates against the (justifiably) more cynical outlook of many of the Order members who have been here longer. He's only just joined this war, and he's still full of vim and vigor—a feckless youth who thinks he can change the world for the better just by hoping hard enough. Many of the people he's now fighting beside know from experience that it takes a lot more than just hope to rewrite the rules of the world, and no amount of optimism will stop a Killing Curse in its fatal tracks. But Elliot doesn't know that yet, and there's bound to be some strife between him and those who have learned that particular lesson the hard way. He also comes from a life of privilege and comfort and a strata of society that says he's not only safe from this war, but from the perspective of many their enemy is actually fighting for him. That's bound to rub some people the wrong way, especially those who have so much more to lose in this fight than he does. To some, Elliot's easy-going attitude is probably going to come across as indifference or even callousness due to that; to others, he may always be somewhat distrusted because he doesn't actually have a dog in this fight. The fact that he grew-up in a world that flung words like mudblood around as common slang likely won't help him endear himself to anyone, because while he knows it's not a good word, there's no guarantee it won't slip-out sometime when he's not paying attention. Which isn't to say that Elliot himself hasn't protested when others say it, or things like it; he has. But not often. Most of the time he keeps his head down and rolls his eyes where nobody can see him—and that's not exactly using his privilege in a proactive way, is it? Elliot might mean well—and he does. But good intentions only go so far. How far is a good question, especially for someone who has spent most of his life as a deliberate wallflower. He's used to being a bystander on purpose, and now he's in a war. An active, purposeful participant. Sure, it's a secret vigilante group—but while the Order doesn't go around advertising their identities, they certainly aren't standing on any sidelines. Acting instead of watching is going to be an adjustment for Elliot—and for anyone who knew him before this, and very likely might doubt just how much good he's going to do them. And then of course there's the fact that his beloved sister is working for the enemy… What will happen when that comes out? Will people leap to the conclusion that if Emma's a traitor, he must be one too? If he finds out the truth before the Order as a whole does, how will he balance his loyalty to the cause against the weight of his sister's secret? If he doesn't find out early, how will he balance his memories of a sister who would do anything for him and Evelyn against the reality of one who betrayed him? Elliot is an earnest, trusting young man. What happens when the person who matters the most to him shatters that?

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? This is what we do to each other, Karli. This is what we do. It's our lot in life. We were made to suffer.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL):

 I'd love to eventually see something happen that either outs Emma as a spy, or causes her to feel like she has to confess her status as a double agent to her brother…or possibly even something that results in Elliot getting hurt (or even killed?) badly enough that he has to drop out of the fight, leaving Emma to shoulder the burden for both of them. Vanity Sibling Angst for the win!

More specifically, I was thinking it might be fun for the recent disastrous deception of the Death Eaters (nice unintentional alliteration there, wasn't it?) to be the impetus for Elliot's joining the Order. There's a little too much destruction—too much attention—to be brushed under the rug, and it's more than just a single home or business being visited by murder underneath a Dark Mark. This is something that Elliot (along with a great many other magical people) are going to notice. Perhaps he actually comes to the site of one of the incidents and tells whoever he finds there that he wants to help—no, not just in this one moment, but long term, please!—or maybe he somehow figures out the identity of someone who was there at one of them (a blurred photograph in the Daily Prophet that he recognizes from school or some social overlap?) and comes to speak to them individually afterwards, asking to join? I don't have anything specific in mind (other than that I don’t want it to be Emma he finds/recognizes, because I think it will be more fun for both of them if he’s brought to the Order and then they see each other), but this event does seem a good excuse for how he gets in touch with the Order, at least.

ANYTHING ELSE?

[shrinkthisviolet]

☕️ the media's need to ~always~ redeem an antagonist

Ohh boy, buckle up, and let’s get into it.

So generally, with redemptions, they can be done in three ways: dying for romantic love, dying for platonic love, or a grueling journey in which the antagonist earns their redemption.

Option 2 is done well with Darth Vader, who dies protecting his son. Notably, the narrative never excuses his actions or lets him do so–Luke offers him Option 3, and he refuses. Granted, he’s on the verge of death, and maybe he wouldn’t live long enough to actually fulfill Option 3, but let me tell you something about Anakin Skywalker. He doesn’t care about the odds. If he wants something, he will take it, screw the consequences or the odds of survival. It’s how he fell to the Dark Side in the first place. The choice to die here, to reject Option 3, to not burden the Rebellion with his presence...it’s a testament to how much he’s grown. He isn’t a hero, but he isn’t quite a villain at this point anymore. It’s why the Force allows him to be a Ghost.

Option 1 can be done well, possibly, but I’ve only seen poor examples, myself. A certain other Star Wars villain comes to mind, but I’ll just leave it at that–I think it’s self-explanatory.

Option 3 is done very well in Johnny Lawrence imo. His crimes are not comparable to Vader’s, but he too is an antagonist. In the first Karate Kid movie, he bullied Daniel LaRusso, beat him up a bunch, and maintained a warped perception of the whole thing (perhaps as a subconscious way to avoid responsibility. Emphasis on subconscious–it’s a very human thing to absolve ourselves of guilt, this does not inherently make him a bad person. His actions in KK1 are cruel, but the justification is a human thing to do). The narrative even calls him out for this via a character in S3, and it’s not just a headcanon that his story to Miguel in S1 about Daniel was heavily biased.

By the time of Cobra Kai, we see that Johnny’s fallen on hard times, and even throughout the series, we see him unlearning the Cobra Kai rhetoric that he’s known all his life. He reconciles with Daniel over and over, and each subsequent time goes better than the last–it’s progress, slow but sure. We don’t see an apology from him to Daniel, but we can believe that it will happen, either on- or offscreen (preferably onscreen, Cobra Kai writers!).

It also helps that Johnny isn’t the main villain (and neither is Daniel, so I better not see any replies or reblogs of this calling him that). That “honor” goes to John Kreese, the man who started it all. But my thoughts on this show could go on forever, and I’m trying to avoid spoiling too much, so feel free to send another ask if you’re curious about my thoughts on the show or any of its characters!

Now, the crux of the matter: I think media should invest in not redeeming its villains/antagonists. Because yes, it can be done well (see Vader and Johnny), but it can also be done poorly. And I can think of three candidates who are much better as unabashed villains: Azula, Yzma, and Loki.

Azula...is complicated. She’s a 14-year-old abuse victim, but she also committed numerous atrocities in the name of her country and was toxic to her two best friends (yes, both of them. Mai wouldn’t have chosen Azula over her brother if she wasn’t afraid of Azula). Could she be redeemed? Of course, she’s 14 (tho I will leave my thoughts on that at “Option 3 or nothing at all”). Does she need to be? No, she doesn’t. Her contrast with Zuko, and her contrast with Katara, means that narratively, she’s most powerful as an antagonist.

Yzma and Loki are purely agents of chaos. Giving them a backstory is one thing, but excusing their actions? Hot take, but I find the Loki in his new show much more compelling than the one we got in Infinity War. I know that Loki was mind-controlled in Avengers, but even if we excuse all of his actions, he just...doesn’t suit the hero role imo. If anything, he’s an anti-hero. The Avengers would bore him quickly if he were on their team, and honestly, that’s for the best. Just let him be villainous! Same for Yzma.

TL;DR: Villain/antagonist redemptions can be done well if done carefully, but they aren’t mandatory. In fact, I’d argue that an unabashedly evil villain/antagonist is much more compelling.

Send me “☕️” and a topic and I’ll talk about it!

[katnissmellarkkk]

Alrightttt, I’m on a roll so we’re going onto chappy five 🥳🥳🥳😎😎

I know the movies made the Capitol — re: basically only Effie and maybe Caesar — have those ridiculous made up accents but .... I actually feel like the description of the Capitol accent in the book is supposed to be like the Kardashians or Paris Hilton’s voice. 🤷🏼‍♀️

“Why do these people speak in such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they're asking a question? Odd vowels, clipped words, and always a hiss on the letter s. no wonder it's impossible not to mimic them.” Like this is a pretty good description of how Kim Kardashian and her sisters talk. And Suzzy C did say she was inspired by the juxtaposition between war news footage and ridiculous reality television shows so... I think my theory of the Capitol all talking like they’re on the Real Housewives of LA is pretty valid.

Just imagine Paris Hilton as Effie and Nicole Richie as one of her preps

Lolololol this whole section of waxing is reminding me to go get my legs waxed 😭😭😭 straight up calling me out here, Suzanne

I like how Katniss says her stylist “apparently has no interest in seeing her until the prep team has addressed obvious problems.” Like you can tell from her narration she was expecting to feel the same was about Cinna that she does about Effie and her prep team.

The “gritty loam that takes off dirt and three layers of skin” is probably just a strong exfoliator 😭😭😭 my girl knows nothing about quality skincare 🤧🤧 someone build a Panem Sephora

She mentioned them waxing her underarms.... girl, did you have hairy armpits before this? Idk why this revelation is new to me

“Grease her down!” Just sounds wrong 😅😅😅😅 I need to stop being annoying omg I’m like a twelve year old

Hmm it’s funny to me that Katniss refers to Octavia as plump. You’d think in a place like the Capitol body image and weight would be very important. Unless it’s like back in the old, old days when being overweight was a sign of wealth. Which would make more sense so this was an unnecessary thought process curtesy of Samantha

Katniss faking a smile and thanking her prep team shows she does know how to play the game and fake it better than she says.

So ... okay, hear me out, I’m not trying to get over the top or make this into something it’s not but ... the whole stylists / Cinna coming into the room and staring at her naked is a little weird. Especially considering Cinna isn’t Lenny Kravitz who’s like a bit older than her but actually like a twenty-something year old dude.

But okay, here’s the thing I was getting at ... Cinna’s one of the best people in this series and you can’t deny that. Even if you find him boring, he’s still one of Katniss’ closest people. Also he’s probably gay. But like ... what about the other stylists? I don’t wanna be that person who makes everything more than it is, but like, this scene just sounds like a perfect opportunity for some Capitol creep to assault a teenager idk I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill just ignore Samantha okay.

That’s nice that he complimented her mama though 🥰🥰🥰

So Katniss calls District Twelve the least desirable district but ... doesn’t District Eleven suck too? Like she also later says District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest but doesn’t she also say Rue is worse off than her and Prim? Make up your mind, Suz.

Cinna claims he asked for District Twelve but did he really get an option? 😅 If it’s his first year and Katniss claims the newbies get them anyway 🤷🏼‍♀️ Samantha is once again, reading too much into this.

Awww, Katniss is thinking about how long it would take for her to assemble this fancy meal at home 🤧🤧🤧 it would take her days and the Capitol just has the necessary resources at their disposal and they just takes it for granted. And yes, I’m aware this is supposed to be calling all us readers out who take so much for granted I know. We’re the Capitol.

“How would I spend the hours I now commit to combing the woods for sustenance if it were so easy to come by?” It’s honestly so sad but so vital to her character that Katniss has zero hobbies or real free time. Her life is about surviving. She doesn’t get to live or enjoy very much of her time. She dedicates everything to keeping Prim — and her mother — alive, sacrificing everything a teenage girl should be doing. Sacrificing even the things the other girls in her world get to do. She mentions the merchant girls and the Seam girls who are more experienced romantically and sexually and socially than her. Because she doesn’t get to be a kid or innocent or even happy, in order to focus on her and her family’s survival. And the things she does enjoy, like spending time with Gale or dancing with Prim (mentioned in Mockingjay) she downplays in case they’re taken away, because nothing good is secure in her eyes. 🥺🥺🥺

Okay but what did Katniss’ facial expression give away that Cinna knew exactly what she was thinking? Or is she just less emotionless than she and Haymitch both claim? Ironically I think they’re the only people who call her emotionless which can easily be chalked up to their self-hate and terrible self-esteems.

Katniss is so afraid they’re gonna make her be naked for the parade 😭. Honestly though they’re children that’s so creepy that they’re even allowed to make 15/16/17 year olds be naked in a parade. I mean I know they kill kids every year but isn’t there like child pornography laws in Panem? 😭

“You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?” Is so foreshadowing 😭😂😅😎 Caesar Flickerman’s voice “Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!”

Honestly though Cinna is smart to make Katniss recognizable in the arena by leaving her with simple makeup. I know and the sky is blue we all know this already beating the dead horses until the farmer comes home.

“It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.” It’s true though 😅😅😅😭😭 he was always a rebel. I actually think he may have asked for District Twelve after Katniss volunteered, because he saw the potential in her. Poor Peeta. Baby, I’m rooting you for even if no one else is.

Also I always found it a bit .... curious? That Peeta had a female stylist and Katniss had a male one? Not just because of the required nudity, you’d just think men would do better as a boy’s stylist and a woman would make a better girl’s stylist. So yes, my whole Cinna was interested in District Twelve because Katniss seemed like a good symbol for a rebellion idea seems very plausible.

I know I know I know I read wayyy too much into this stuff sometimes a cigarette 🚬 is just a cigarette 🚬

Katniss being relieved when Peeta shows up 😭😭😭 because even if she won’t admit it and even if she won’t let herself trust him, she still sees him unconsciously and completely against her will as a comfort because they’re in this thing together in a way, even if they’re supposed to try and kill each other

And honestly, it’s such a like... relatable feeling? To feel alone and nervous and uptight and then someone who you recognize — even if you maybe aren’t even friends with but you at least know — shows up and you just instantly feel less alone. I’m totally looking at this through shipper goggles and I’m not even ashamed you all knew who’s blogging you were reading ight? 😂🤣🤷🏼‍♀️

“He should know about fire, being a baker's son and all.” And he’s gonna learn a lot more about it when he falls in love — for real, falls in love, not a childhood infatuation — with the girl on fire. 🥰🥰🥰

But also, I love this particular line on a reread because it totally is an indicator towards their future. Like Peeta knows about fire, he’s experienced with how to handle it, and later on, he becomes the only person who truly comes to understand Katniss, who represents fire, in a way that no one else could ever imagine.

Hmmm, Katniss’ point of view here, talking about how Portia and Peeta’s team seem all giddy and air-headed and it’s only Cinna who seems reserved makes me rethink my previous imaginings of Peeta’s stylist. Maybe she’s just a Capitolite idiot and nothing like Cinna. And my baby got a raw deal here then too. Good thing Haymitch loves him more. Just kidding 😅😅😅

But also I wanna know why Cinna is hesitant to accept congratulations for his and Portia’s idea? Wasn’t he at least lowkey excited about it when he pitched it a page ago?

Their horses are coal black 🐴 😅. I like that they went the whole nine yards with the theme. Nothing but the best for the kids on Death Row.

Aww Katniss asking Peeta what he thinks about being set on fire is so sweet and pure for some reason. I just find their commodore here cute ok

“I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine” this is literally their first friend type of interaction and it’s so pure y’all leave me be I’m emotional for them

🙃 Also lowkey reminds me of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Everyone look away ok I’m sorry

Peeta’s shady/annoyed Haymitch comment and Katniss’ joke at his expense 🤣🤣😂🤣😂😂🥲🥲☺️🥲🥲 they’re bonding it’s so presh

“And suddenly we're both laughing.” I hope they laugh a lot together post-canon 🥲🥲🥲. If they can make the other laugh during their terrible circumstances, then they can make the other laugh anywhere. 🤧 Except in Thirteen because he’s hijacked and she’s certifiable and they’re both so used and abused and 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay I have to say, Suzanne Collins really builds up a lot for certain events and then just like grazes over the actual action of said event? Like she builds towards the tribute parade but then kind of rushes through off the actual event itself? It’s a common theme in her writing. And I don’t like it at all ngl.

Oh wait she doesn’t actually rush the parade events the paragraph before just looked like she was about to I jumped the gun 🤣😂🤭 but what I said is still completely true for many events in these books sorry not sorry

I’m definitely reading too much into it but the fact that District One — the favorite of the Capitol — gets snow white horses and District Twelve gets coal black horsies kind of ... seems to imply something .... 🤭

Cinna just lets out a sigh of relief “it worked” like ... way to fill your tributes with hope, dude. “Yeah, you’re totally safe, don’t be scared-OH THANK GOD THAT WORKED I wasn’t actually sure you wouldn’t blow up.” But actually this answers my previous inquiry about why he seemed hesitant I guess he wasn’t even sure this wouldn’t burn them up that’s nice 🤭🙃

It’s a literal trial by fire *cue drum hit* 🥁 aww, I just cracked myself up 😭

“Then he gently tucks a hand under my chin. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!" This is caught halfway between being very Capitol-y and very father-brotherly and idk which way to take it but it’s kind of cute 🤭

“For the first time, I look at him and realize that ablaze with the fake flames, he is dazzling.” This is such a significant line because Katniss isn’t saying Peeta is technically good looking (like when Haymitch said they were decently attractive) or someone else thinks he’s good looking (i.e Gale, her mother and lowkey Finnick) but she’s saying she herself thinks he’s attractive. Girl, your crush is showing.

"I think he said for us to hold hands," says Peeta.” I’m sure Cinna actually did say that but this just seems like a very good opportunity for Peeta to hold the hand of the girl he has a massive crush on. 😭😭😭

Okay Cinna gave a thumbs up so he actually was saying that but can you imagine Peeta’s excitement right now?

I mean, yeahhhh, there’s the certain death looming over him too but like live in the moment, babe. 🥰😘🤗👌🏻

I like that Katniss says the crowd is at first like 😳😳😳 before they start cheering like they’re thinking “what are these backwoods, hillbilly kids doing this year?”

“At first, I'm frozen, but then I catch sight of us on a large television screen and am floored by how breathtaking we look. In the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminates our faces” okay they both have to be pretty naturally attractive people objectively, because you illuminate my face without much makeup and no one is gonna be cheering.

“Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you! I hear Cinna's voice in my head. I lift my chin a bit higher, put on my most winning smile, and wave with my free hand.” I wonder what the true difference is for Katniss between Cinna and Effie saying this to her? Maybe it’s that Effie is just outright mean to her sometimes whereas Cinna shows her nothing but kindness from the start and expresses sympathy and understanding? It’s probably that he’s already earning her trust versus Effie who’s just cruel I’m not over her comments on the train ok

“I'm glad now I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady, solid as a rock.” Right from the start, Katniss refers to Peeta as solid and steady. Idk, I feel like this is something that the movies really misses along the way. Katniss wasn’t always strong or confident at all and Peeta, at least publicly, exuded those qualities pretty well. Samantha’s complaining again ™️ 💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

Also this is just outright foreshadowing how Peeta will eventually become her rock. Or that he will be soon painted a rock ... pick and choose which way you wanna go with this. 🤷🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️😅🤣

“As I gain confidence, I actually blow a few kisses to the crowd.” Okay, see I feel like Peeta really gives Katniss confidence in herself. If he’d been there in District Thirteen and they’d done propos together, she probably would have been a thousand times better.

But also this makes me think Katniss actually has it in her to be a charismatic, confident, alluring celebrity. She just chooses not to. 🤗🤗🤗

But this also reminds me of “She has no idea the effect she can have” okay imma move on and stop focusing on every little detail

I say that every chapter 🤧😅

“The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can't suppress my excitement.” Say whatever you want, Katniss is still such a girl underneath it all. She gets excited over people liking her and cheering her on. And I know it’s because it increases her chances of getting sponsors but still

Honestly Peeta trying to showcase Katniss and let her take the spotlight is so selfless and indicative of his ultimate plan to help her win but also ... I can see how Katniss would believe it’s too good to be true and he’s messing with her. That he’s just playing the game to earn her trust, get her guard down and manipulate her later.

See, Peeta is actually framed at the start like the typical, standard YA love interest turned villain. In majority of YA books, at this point the boy is kind and sweet and helpful to the girl until she trusts him completely and then he turns on her and uses everything she gave him to destroy her. But the difference is, Katniss refuses to truly trust him and she is guessing his game incorrectly at every step. And then it’s revealed that it was never a game and he truly isn’t messing with her and everything he’s done that’s seem too good to be true and not even remotely plausible has actually been genuine and heartfelt and that, my friends, is why Peeta is above all other YA love interests. Because Everlark is actually the foil to many of the cliches. That was a long speech over some incoherent thoughts I’m so sorry if you suffered through that.

“It's not until we enter the City Circle that I realize I must have completely stopped the circulation in Peeta's hand. That's how tightly I've been holding it.” Awww he is her rock 😭🤧🥺

"No, don't let go of me," he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. "Please. I might fall out of this thing." Okay this part is so cute and so blatantly setting Peeta up as her main love interest omg 😅 this isn’t the least bit subtle or disguised. But first off, the fact that Katniss is also Peeta’s stability here too 😭😭😭 and second of all, she takes time to notice his blue eyes against the firelight? She was attracted to him from the very start, y’all. That’s indisputable. 👌🏻😎🤧

“It's not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other.” I agree with you, baby, it’s not fair at all. But you two take care of that situation nicely. Or not. Y’all do start a dang war. 🤭🤭🙃🙃

It’s rather ... ironic that it’s District Twelve’s chariot of them all that is pulled up and stopped directly in front of President Snow’s mansion. I know it’s a book, certain details like this are definitively contrived, I know get over it. 🤦🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️

So uh. Snow is a small thin man? Why do I suddenly imagine Danny Devito as Snow 😅😅😅😅🤣🤣🤣🤣 y’all know he’d kill the role

“The darker it becomes, the more difficult it is to take your eyes off our flickering.” Okay, this is such a great line and it’s so significant to the rest of the series? The fact that Katniss — and Peeta, let’s not forget our boy — became symbols of the revolution. Like this line is deep if you think about it. The worse things in Panem got, the more the civilians looked towards Katniss and Peeta for hope 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰🥰

Omg now after Songbirds and Snakes, we know the national anthem. I’m sorry, babies, that you have to endure that I’ll get you out of there 🙉🙉🙉

I feel like in part, the Capitol camera crew — Cressida, Pollux .... Pollux’s brother... is that you here???? — put so much attention on District Twelve because it would create some resentment and competition between them and the careers 🤭🤗

“I notice a lot of the other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, which confirms what I've suspected, we've literally outshone them all.” Insert Gretchen Wieners “I can’t help that I’m popular!” 😅😅😅😅😅

“I realize I'm still glued to Peeta and force my stiff fingers to open. We both massage our hands.” — they were hanging on so tight 😭😭😭😭

“Thanks for keeping hold of me.” He’s so sweet ☺️☺️☺️ I love him even if he’s kind of an idiot sometimes but so is Katniss so let’s not point fingers

“I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. [...] And then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness” Omg I know Katniss views this as him trying to manipulate her but the fact that he’s actually just admitting the way he’s felt for years is so 😭😭😭😭 if only you’d spit it out sooner, Bready

“he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.” She literally has a crush on her fellow tribute and her first line of defense is to decide he out to get her for making her feel this way 🤣😭🙃

“The more likable he is, the more deadly he is.” The more my crush grows, the more deadly he becomes. I know I’m reading this with shipper goggles but guess what? I’m unashamed. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ who feels guilty for reading this book with an Everlark bias not this girl right here 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

“I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.” Okay first off, she says cheek here but according to a chapter ago, she claimed the mark was on his jaw... so in other words, she’s incredibly short. If a medium height guy has a bruise on his jaw and she has to stand on her tip toe to reach it... well... hashtag LittleKatniss

And second off.... can you even imagine how Peeta must feel. He genuinely complimented her here, the girl he has had a crush on forever, and she responds by kissing his cheek. He was probably really happy at this moment. And also this probably played further into his buying into her false display in the arena. That here we have her clutching his hand, smiling and laughing with him and kissing his cheek. Idk what I was trying to say necessarily but I made myself sad wow way to go me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤧🤧🤧

Anyways! Those are my very over the top and too detailed thoughts! Hope you enjoyed if you read this! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳😎😎😎😎😎😎😎🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[prophetparadox]

DMC OC Week Day 1: Introduction

(I made this image in a picrew, so it’s not totally accurate to her design but it’s the best I could do with limited options)

It’s officially midnight so fuck it, time to make my first post for this prompt week! I may have just gotten into this series, but I do have an OC and since I plan on writing a fic soon I figured participating in @dmc-oc-week​ was a good way to start! So it’s time to meet my girl Kay! So I’ve filled out an infographic for her, and wrote up a little drabble to go along with this, get ready to learn more about her as the week goes on! Though if you read my stuff on AO3, you’ve probably already seen her a little bit, but let’s get this ball rolling!

Name: Kay [Real Name REDACTED]

Age: Mid-20’s (24-26) (as of DMC5)

DoB: September 26th

Race/Species: Human, mostly...

Height: 5’6”/167 cm

Weight: 117 lbs.

Appearance: Kay has medium length brown hair that goes just above her chest, her left eye is brown but no one knows what her right eye looks like as it’s covered by a dark purple eyepatch and hidden further by her hair covering her right eye. She wears a purple sleeveless top, black capris, a gray hoodie that is usually tied around her waist, light gray boots, and fingerless fishnet gloves.

Personality: Kay is a cheerful albeit socially awkward girl, but she has a stubborn side and isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind. Emotion wise, she wears her heart on her sleeve and isn’t good at hiding how she feels unless she bottles it up. She tends to be optimistic, but there might be something darker lying deeper... She’s very affectionate towards the people she cares about. That being said, Kay is also rather secretive. She doesn’t open up about her past, being vague and only bringing up as little as possible. It’d take a lot of trust for her to open up about such things. Due to being around Dante for so long, she’s developed a bit of a sarcastic attitude.

Quick Facts/Abilities: Kay primarily wields her axe Fenrir, a Devil Arm, in battle, but she does have firearms training courtesy of Lady and carries around a pistol. Despite her right eye being covered up and hidden, she doesn’t seem to be handicapped by this and behaves as if it weren’t hidden at all. She has a good sense of intuition, being able to know if someone is trustworthy or has demonic power. 

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

It was always strange when the office was quiet. If it wasn’t a song blasting from the jukebox filling the space with noise, it was the chattering of its employees. Even more rare was when the quiet wasn’t because the power had been shut off. But today seemed to be a rare moment where the power was on but not a sound could be heard. But in all honesty, that didn’t really bother the sole occupant of the office at the moment.

Sitting down on the couch with a book in hand was a young woman known simply as Kay. Without any “work” to do, she had time to finish yet another book she’d had on her long pile of things to read. And with the others still asleep, she could enjoy the peace of the lazy April morning. Though admittedly, she was having trouble focusing on the words. Perhaps it was too quiet? Or maybe it was because she hadn’t eaten breakfast yet? She wasn’t sure. All she knew is that the peace and quiet had quickly lost its appeal. Maybe Dante would wake up soon and then they could-

The phone on Dante’s desk began to ring, sounding louder than usual thanks to the deafening quiet. The sudden noise made her nearly fall off the couch. Quickly stuffing her bookmark into the novel, she leapt up from her seat and dashed for the phone. No one else was around to answer, and it might just be a job! She had to take this chance. She picked up the phone, holding on to the possibility that this would be big.

“Devil May Cry!” she answered, as she had many times before. She listened intently to the person on the other end, unable to hide the grin on her face when they gave the password. “Alright, I think we can help you. What’s the issue?” she asked, grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper so she could write down the details. This was perfect! She could take this job and-

“I’ll be taking that, thank you!” The voice behind her and the sudden stealing of the phone from her hands snapped her out of her good mood. She didn’t even have to guess who it was, she knew that voice all too well.

“Dante, what the hell?!” Kay shouted, turning to face her “boss”. From the looks of it, he’d just tumbled out of bed and was woken up by the phone ringing. He didn’t bother answering her, simply giving a cocky grin in response.

“Sorry about that, mind repeating what you said there?” he said, responding to the client on the phone. Dammit, he was gonna steal the job for himself! She seethed in silence as Dante attentively listened to the client. “Alright then, I’ll be there asap, we’ll discuss payment afterwards,” He put the phone back on the receiver and grabbed Rebellion. “Duty calls, Kay! You know the drill, hold down the fort while I’m gone!”

“Of course you won’t let me come with,” Kay sighed, sitting down in the chair already aware this would be a losing argument. But it was still worth a try, maybe he’d come around for once? “I don’t see why, this assignment isn’t that tricky.”

“Which is why you’re staying here. Besides, someone needs to hold off Lady and Trish if they come knocking! And if there’s anyone I trust the office with, it’s you.”

She knew that was meant to be a compliment, but she’d heard it too many times and was getting tired of it. “Come on, Dante, I’m not a kid! I can handle myself out there, you’ve seen it with your own eyes!” she argued.

“Sorry Kay, but my mind’s made up. This is a one man job, you wouldn’t be able to do much if you came. They’d all be dead before you could swing your axe,” He leaned down to tousle her hair, earning him a groan of annoyance from her. “I’m sorry, but I have my reasons. You’ll understand one of these days. Just trust me, would ya?”

There it was, the excuse he always pulled. He always had his reasons that he never explained and one day she’d totally understand it all. That was usually a sign the conversation was over. “Just go already.” she said with the wave of her hand at the door.

“I’ll make it up to you, kiddo. I’ll treat you to something when I get back!” he said as he walked towards the door, trying to make her feel better. It was hard when by treating her he meant they’d get pizza from a fancier joint than usual and she’d be the one stuck picking it up.

“I’m still not your kid, Dante! I’m a grown woman!” she called out as he made his way out the door. Once again, she was left alone in the office.

Kay stood up and made her way over to the kitchen, unable to ignore her hunger and resigned to eating alone. She was so tired of being left behind with no explanation. She’d been fighting demons long before she met Dante, but he just seemed content to make her watch the office and pick up pizzas or coffee. She was getting tired of this, she wanted to see some action again! Go out in the field and kick demon ass! But noooooo, she was stuck here.

Maybe one day she’d be able to head out there again, prove to Dante that she was just as capable as him or the girls, take down demons like she used to. But clearly that wasn’t today. But soon, something had to happen soon. They’d get a job so big that he couldn’t leave her behind and then he’d see! Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

But for some reason, she felt as if that hope would become reality soon enough. She could just be getting her hopes up, but she wanted to believe her intuition was right. If only she could see the future and know for certain… Until then, she’d just stay here and hope that someone would walk through the door or dial their number and change everything.