#maybe villain reader

[thatgirlyourejected]

BNHA (Male lead has yet too be chosen) x Quirkless reader

Chapter 0

It is hinted that reader and izuku were friends

She was alone, truly alone. She thought she had it all, a friend like her; quirkless. She was wrong, her only friend in the whole world, had developed a quirk, got into the prestigious U.A. Academy, and he never looked back, not so much as a glance in her direction. Yes… she truly is, alone.

He made new friends, he no longer texted her in the dead of night, no longer said hi when they passed each other in the streets. She felt invisible. Maybe that would have been better, maybe if she had a quirk he’d still be with her, but she knew she was naïve to think like that.

She tried calling him but he never answered, she left a voicemail, but he never called back.

She came to the conclusion on her own, she’d been cast aside.

She had no family, and now she was sure she had no friends. The one friend that she had was her everything, her world, had discarded her like an old toy for something shiny and new. She was happy for him, but deep down she felt bitter.

Her new school was nothing short of a living hell, as soon as her quirk status was revealed, she was thrown to the dogs, the girls were merciless, the boys were horny bastards that tried to use her like a practice doll… but she escaped, she struggled hard and hid, because that’s all she could do. If she was kicked out of this school no other school would take her. By the end of each school day she walked home battered and bruised.

At least where she worked, they didn’t care about quirks, sure it was shady but it paid well, so long as she never blabbed about the dealing that go down after dark. They often patched her up after school, but they didn’t inquire about it, and that’s something she’s grateful for. Her co-bartender was a pleasant man to be around, his wispy form made him seem very mysterious. His son or at least she assumes is his son, often brings her to play games in the back during breaks. While he acted childish, she had to admit he was good looking.

I don’t know if I should expand on this.

Also posted on Ao3 under “She Truly felt alone”

[moodyvoid]

You’re taking selfies with everyone in the league and you go up to your leader, Shigaraki, fully expecting him to refuse. However, as you aim your phone camera, he leans closer to you and gives a genuine soft smile.

Then he’s like “Send me that.” 🥺🩷

[anime-villian-irl]

"id let the world burn for you"

"I'd kill for you"

"id die for you"

"I'd sacrifice the world for you"

BORING!

Yawn snore snore. Honk shoo honk shoo.

I got twelve other guys ready to that for me. You already do that. You already destroy the world I would just happen to be there while you did.

The real question is.

Would you save the world for me?

Would you put aside your hatred for humanity and put my love for it Infront? Would you save the world because I love the world? Would you stop killing because I hate killing? Would you find a way to live because I want you alive?

Death and destruction are easy as hell. Do you know how fucking easy it is to kill someone? To blow up a building? Shure security is in the way but if it wasn't there it would be easy as hell.

You'd do the basics Shure. But would you do the hard thing and save the world because I asked you to?

Would you push aside your hatred of everyone but me because I asked you to nicely?

Would you?

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 3]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 3)

ie. Detention begins, and the topic of Winter Break plans comes into question.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

The first detention went about as well as you could have hoped.

You sorted paperwork, mindlessly graded the very same pop quizzes that had nearly given Deuce an aneurism just that morning, and shined all the stupid glassware that was needed to make all the stupid potions. It was grueling. And to think—you’d been doing this shit for fun not a month ago. What had been wrong with you?

“Maybe it was the Stockholm Syndrome,” you muttered irritably under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing, sir,” you grumbled, and went back to organizing all of your tormentor’s seemingly endless collection of bits and bobs.

Professor Crewel looked over at you, his face twisted up like he wanted to say something. But after a moment of awkward silence, he just ducked his head back down to his paperwork and carried on without saying a thing.

The next afternoon didn’t look like it was shaping up to be much better. You shined, he scribbled, and you wished for nothing more than the sweet release of death. The quiet was disconcerting. Say what you will about all the time you’d spent holed up in this office before The Incident, but ‘silence’ had never been an issue. Even Crewel’s snide little barbs would be better than this—this nothingness.

‘You’re not even worth insulting anymore,’ your brain supplied helpfully. ‘Wow. Isn’t that a trip?’

“Are you almost finished?”

You startled a bit. It was the first full sentence he’d spoken to you all day. You glanced pointedly from him, to the walls upon walls of vials, and then back.

“No, sir.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, like this entire situation was just all sorts of unpleasant for him. And not like, you know, he’d been the one to lock you into the school equivalent of prison labor for the next four weeks.

He closed the ledger he was working on with a pointed snap and stood from his chair with a grand swirl of his fur coat.

“You can be finished for the day,” he said, leaning forward to rifle around in the top drawer of his desk. “It’s already late, and you should start making your way back to your dorm before it gets too dark.”

You fought and won against the intense to desire to roll your eyes. The path back to Ramshackle was no easier to traverse in the black of night than it was in the bright light of the afternoon. And besides, it’s not like you were particularly worried about anything happening to you out there. The monsters at this school prowled its halls no matter the time of day. If anything, nighttime meant less potentially murderous magicians out on the loose. No one but you was stupid enough to try and go toe-to-toe with a wandering Tsunotarou.

“And take these with you.”

You startled once more as something was pressed into your hands. It was a familiar box—sleek and artfully colored with matte backgrounds and swirls of golden lettering etched across its face. These were the fancy cookies.

Thankfully, the spite in your belly was enough to gobble up whatever lingering love you had for the treats. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when you passed them back to Professor Crewel with a tight smile.

“Thank you,” you said, pointedly reaching into your own backpack to procure a nearly wrapped pouch of Annie’s homemade pastries. “But I’m all set.”

His dark eyes lingered on your stash of chocolate chip cookies in a way that made you think he was going to demand you throw them away, and maybe start ranting hypocritically about the dangers of bringing food of any kind into an alchemical lab. His jaw ticked and you had the distinct impression that he was grinding his teeth.

Instead, Professor Crewel just sighed and returned the treats to his desk drawer.

“Of course,” he huffed, looking a bit dejected, and collapsed back into his chair without his usual elegance. Huh. Maybe you’d just foiled his plans to try and poison you or something. “Good evening, Prefect.”

The next afternoon, he did not mention the cookies. However, on your way out the door at the end of the night, you noticed that he’d placed the box near the coatrack—not quite on top of your belongings, but close enough.  

And then it was there again the night after that.

And then again, and again.

.

.

“How’s the internment going?”

You heard a dull thwack and some angry shushing. Mister Rogerson’s laughter was muffled through the phone’s speaker, and you had a feeling that Annie had just tried to beat him with her shoe.

“It’s alright,” you snickered into your hand. “Prison is prison.”

“You know,” Mister Rogerson huffed. “I still say all of this is horribly unfair.”

You shrugged, and then remembered he couldn’t very well see that through a phone call, and sighed. “It could be worse.”

“Could it?” he asked, a clear frown in his voice.

You dutifully did not mention anything about Overblots and just sighed again. “I mean, probably.”

There was a bit of a scuffle on the other end and you heard little snippets of Annie’s kind trill. There was more laughter. It sounded warm—cozy. You glanced around at the grey, soot-stained walls of Ramshackle and tried not to feel sorry for yourself. Grim rolled over in his sleep and burrowed into your hip with a contented little mewl, which did help a bit.

“Annie wants to know if you got her care package,” Mister Rogerson said after a moment, sounding a bit like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. “And if you’ve thought at all about our offer to host you over the winter holidays.”

“I did, thank you,” you smiled. “It was all delicious.”

“And the break?” he asked after a moment.

“Crowley sent me some angry letter about taking care of the fairies that live in the kitchen stoves,” you said. “So I’ll have to see about that.”

“Just keep it in mind,” Mister Rogerson pressed, a bit of concern slipping into his otherwise laidback drawl. “Please?”

“Okay,” you smiled, feeling like you’d managed to steal a bit of that bubbly glow of theirs and tuck it away tight enough that even the chilly shadows of your new home wouldn’t be able to taint it. “I will.”

.

.

“Take care of the fairies in the boiler?”

“Yes,” said Crowley, with deadpan sincerity.

The other members of the staff looked on in silence—a lovely range of ‘fed up’ to ‘outright contempt’ twisting their faces.

“Well I thought it was an excellent idea,” he huffed, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest.

“No wonder this child hates you,” Trein hissed under his breath and worked his fingers into his temples like maybe if he drilled hard enough he could kill the Crowley-Induced-Migraine before it began.

The Old Crow gasped.

“How dare you—”

“And you,” Trein interrupted, turning on Crewel with a sneer. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish with any of this, Divus? An entire month’s worth of disciplinary action for one infarction? I thought you were better than, well,” a pointed glower at the raving Headmaster who was nearly collapsed in tears before them, “that.”

Crewel’s lips curled into a bitter snarl, but the aging historian before him was far from cowed.

“That’s none of your concern,” he snapped. “This is a matter between the Prefect and I, and their willful disobedience when it comes to following the rules of this institution.”

“Is that so,” Trein hummed, arching a brow in obvious skepticism. “But then again, what would I know anything about raising unruly children? I only have two lovely, successful, daughters of my own. Remind me, when was the last time you allotted even an ounce of affection to anything that wasn’t one of your purebred mongrels? Or your own ego?”

Crewel stepped forward with a scowl that was more a restrained baring of teeth.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” he sneered.

“Say what you will,” Mozus Trein tutted, and glared down his nose at the pair of them—Crewel with his poorly cloaked rage and Crowley who still refused to stop wailing about the injustices of it all. “But both of my children will be coming home for the holidays. Voluntarily.”

“Oooh,” Sam trilled, uncurling himself from the shadows for the first time all afternoon. “Get ‘em, Mozus.”

.

.

You ended up staying at Ramshackle over the break, if only because you couldn’t tell at this point if ‘oven fairies’ were a real thing, and if they were and they did starve, you’d feel absolutely terrible. Your rap sheet in this word was already a mile long—you didn’t need to add homicide to the list.

And then, of course, you ended up being kidnapped by Jamil and his smooth-talking self not a day in, so your act of goodwill really was all for naught.

You paced around your luxurious little guestroom cell, phone in hand. There wasn’t a lot of charge left on it, but you definitely had enough to make a call or two. Mister Rogerson would come help you, you knew he would. But… the problem was that you were kind of becoming a Blot expert at this point, and from the looks of things, Jamil Viper was about to go apeshit and melt into Enraged Ink Monster Number Four. Sure, the guy may have kidnapped you. But he also made great curry, and really didn’t seem that bad underneath it all. Just... quiet. And fed up with living a life of forced servitude and mediocrity. Which, y’know, totally fair.

You paced and paced.

“They have to be reported to the proper authorities,” Mister Rogerson had said. “And dealt with accordingly.”

“They’d be taken away?” you’d whispered.

“I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can.”

You grit your teeth and called Ace and Deuce instead.

They were immediately no help at all and Jamil ended up Overblotting anyways.

“Y’know,” Grim grouched, shivering into your side after Evil Jamil had yeeted you off into The Unknown and Freezing Corners of Sandy Hell. “You really should start charging for these things. We could probably make a lot of money or something.”

“That’s a great idea,” Azul nodded along, and you wanted to beat the shit out of them both.

In the end, you saved the day. As usual.

Jamil was de-inked. He was still a miserable wad of repressed hatred, but at least he was being open about it now. Everyone was alive. Azul promised to only bill you his usual rate for assistance rather than the holiday upcharge. Kalim held a feast, as per usual. And Ace and Deuce showed up at the tail end of it all, which was incredibly sweet of them and also on track with their usual brand of stupidity.

Everything had turned out great!

Except…

“How was your break?” Mister Rogerson asked. “We missed you over here!”

“It was great,” you lied, images of black tar running from narrowed eyes and the suffocating sensation of dark magic flooding your throat. “It was great.”

.

.

You walked into detention on Monday afternoon feeling like shit warmed over. And looking like it too, you would guess, seeing the way Crewel’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead.

You stayed silent throughout the whole thing, quietly sorting bottles and blends, and trying to keep your mind off the fact that you had very nearly died. Again. You could feel Crewel’s eyes on you throughout the entire ordeal, tracking you in a way that reminded you of someone watching a car crash that they just couldn’t quite force themselves to look away from.

“Prefect,” he called as your were half-way through shrugging on your coat at the end of the evening.

“Yes, sir?” you sighed, not even bothering to look up from the floor.

He was silent for one moment, two, three.

“…Get some rest tonight,” he ordered. It sounded like a cop out—like he’d wanted to say something else but hadn’t had the words for it.

You sighed again, bone deep and weary. “Yes, sir.”

.

.

You did not, in fact, rest that night. A horrible cocktail of nightmares tugged at your brain from dusk ‘til dawn, and you woke up feeling worse than you had when you’d gone to sleep.

You barely forced yourself to go to detention, and only because you knew it would only get worse if you tried to skip out. However, when the door to Crewel’s office creaked open, you were not met by a head of neatly dyed black-and-white hair, but a yowling mass of flying fur and limbs that immediately sent you sprawling to the floor.

Jasper and Badun yelped and cried in the ways that all excited dogs cry, and laved your face with so many kisses you couldn’t have counted them even if you tried. Your hands went into their soft scruffs on instinct, and you had to fight valiantly not to burst into tears.

There was a hand at your back then, urging you towards the comfy, plush, chair that you’d once called yours. You plopped gracelessly against the opulent cushions, and the pair of delighted dogs quickly bounded up to join you—squishing their too-large bodies into your lap and across the armrests. The duo buried their noses into your shoulder, your hip, any nook and cranny they could reach. And you felt warm for the first time since the holidays.

When you woke up later (hours? Days? You couldn’t tell), you and Jasper and Badun were all still bundled together in that chair—the three of you tucked in gently beneath the soft furs of a very familiar black and white coat.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[fairylibe]

where i’m meant to be.

1312 words. fluff. features: elbert greetia × gn! reader, alfons sylvatica, roger barel, victor (minor).

꒰ summary ꒱ elbert returns to crown castle after a week-long mission on a cruise, and all he wants is to be with you.

“the cruise is a round trip, but once you board, you will be on for the next week.”

elbert quietly listened to victor list the details of the mission he, alfons, and roger were assigned to go to, as though he were reading through a list of bullet points on a document.

“your mission is to confirm the illicit drug activities that have been reported there, and pass judgment as necessary.” with that, victor gave the three men before him a smile that was genuine, and yet somehow elusive in nature. “may you give into the darkness of your wicked hearts.”

when they exited the room, alfons let out a sigh, his lips curling into a small, wry smile. “it would seem you and i have a penchant for getting missions out in the sea.”

elbert closed his eyes, opting not to say much in response.

roger, seeing elbert’s solemn expression and the way he stayed silent, narrowed his eyes. “by the looks, you’ve got less than pleasant experiences on a ship.”

“…it’s fine. it’s just my first experience on a ship was…” elbert paused, searching for the right word to use.

before he could pin down such a word, though, alfons finished his statement. “it was so hapless, all we can do is laugh heartily when we think back on it. enough of that, though, we must prepare for this lovely cruise trip.”

“lovely, huh…”

elbert closed his eyes, ruminating on that single word alfons had uttered in sarcastic passing.

the trip would have been more “lovely,” even when they were boarding the cruise for a mission, if (y/n) was there by his side.

on the cruise, the full moon, serenely still in the sky, only observed the crimson happenings below.

“w-who are you guys?!”

when roger opened the door (by kicking it down, as “knocking wouldn’t have gotten them to open the door like that”) to a certain room hidden in the vip sector, 

alfons followed roger inside, releasing a dramatic sigh. “must you make such a violent show? i was hardly aware you did not know something very handy called a doorknob exists.”

“haha, well, politeness isn’t exactly in my dictionary when we’re dealing with bastards like these.” his glasses seemed to gleam slightly as he turned toward the group, who had all stood up from their seats by now, frozen on the spot with some pointing guns toward the crown members’ general direction, but fully prepared to book it. “besides, if you called that violent, god knows what you’d call the scene that’s about to unfold here.”

“i can only pray this doesn’t turn into a bloody mess, but more times than not, prayers are only empty words.”

when roger handled the right side and alfons the left, elbert swiftly navigated through the chaos of the crowd, pinning his ocean-blue eyes on the target — a man in an eyepatch and a scar across his cheek.

amid the chaos, he was sneaking away toward what elbert presumed was the exit.

“don’t run away.” elbert’s voice was soft, yet deep and firm at the same time.

the man jumped and turned around before he stood there, his one visible eye widening, as though enraptured at seeing something new and refreshing for the first time. it was an expression elbert detested, and yet had unfortunately grown accustomed to from his time living in the greetia manor.

please… look at me with any other eyes but those.

finally, as though the effects of a spell elbert had unconsciously casted was ebbing away, the man turned around once again to run.

“only those with no brain would stay here of their own will!”

he closed his eyes, murmured a small “i see…” and then stepped forward himself, his toes touching the man’s shadow.

only when screams and cries broke out from the room did the haunting silence fall.

a week had at last passed, and elbert was very much looking forward to return back to crown castle… of course, he couldn’t say he was the most fond of being out in the sea in general (although he favored the sight of it), and not only that…

“…to think a large whale had come out of the water, soaking elbie from the top of his head to the tips of his toes! the woe, indeed.” alfons made a dramatic show of crying.

“you got soaked from head to toe, too, al,” elbert pointed out, a small smile on his face.

“that is very true — i must applaud your proficient deduction skills.”

“you two better take a shower,” roger said, his voice laced with worry, “unless you’re looking to get sick.”

“i would very much not mind getting sick; would that not mean less physical labor?”

more than the stress of the mission, though, there was one person he so dearly missed. someone he needed to see.

right this moment.

“…i will be retiring to my room.” elbert nodded his head as a parting gesture before he turned on his heels.

there, when he opened the door, he saw (y/n) lying in a fetal position on his bed, their eyes closed and chest moving up and down rhythmically; they were fast asleep. elbert slowly approached the bed, as though he were walking toward a treasure.

“(y/n)…” his voice came out in an almost hoarse whisper. it felt as though he hadn’t said their name in years, so he repeated it over and over again, like a broken record. “(y/n), (y/n), (y/n)…”

he wanted to engrave the sound of their name on his lips within him, and he wanted to whisper it over and over.

seeing them sound asleep like this, they looked just like a statue of a deity, and drawn to them, he leaned in to plant a kiss on their forehead, their skin feeling warm against his lips.

“mn…”

it was then they stirred, their closed eyes twitching, but seemingly not awake yet.

“…i have returned, (y/n).”

his voice was soft as he watched their eyes flutter open, the color still cloudy from lethargy.

“lord elbert…?”

how he loved the way their lips sounded his name out in a drowsy whisper.

(y/n) slowly sat up, rubbing their eyes. the entire time, elbert was drawn to their slow movements, his deep ocean blue eyes reflecting them, and only them.

“i missed you,” elbert said, “a week was too long… much too long.”

even a day is too long.

(y/n) slowly reached out toward elbert’s cheek, their fingertips hesitant as they brushed against his porcelain skin. it was as though they were checking to see if he was real.

but then their eyes widened.

“wh—you’re soaking wet!”

“yes… it happened during the mission.”

“are you not cold? i can bring a towel.”

elbert shook his head.

“i want you,” he stated, his voice seeming to deepen a notch, “just you.”

(y/n)’s cheeks seemed to darken, and elbert couldn’t help but smile fondly at that.

“i-if that is enough, then…”

(y/n) wrapped their arms around elbert, pulling him into their chest. being filled with the warmth of the embrace, he closed his eyes, burying his face in their chest, taking in their scent, the shape of their body... everything.

until i drown in you.

(y/n)’s fingers made their way to elbert’s hair, combing through his wet, blond locks.

it was silent, but it was a comforting silence.

“…welcome home, lord elbert.”

to hear their whisper was like a dream — one he never wanted to end. if only the night could stay eternal, the moon stuck at its peak in the dark sky that was spotted with flickering crystals.

“mn.” elbert smiled, albeit unbeknownst to (y/n), “i’m back, (y/n).”

back home, in the place he was meant to be.

fin.

꒰ tag list . ꒱ @drachonia @weepinglycoris @letter-from-afar @candiedcoffeedrops @.comment to be added or removed!

꒰ dedication . ꒱ @aquagirl1978 @pistachiofiasco

[amy-the-god]

Light (Shan yu x reader)

So... um, hi, I'm not known for writing and I'm actually more known for drawing :/ but I think we should give more love to Disney villains- So I came here to write this, I just love shan yu and everything :³ but anyway, Sorry for any grammar errors,I'm Brazilian and I'm using the translator on my keyboard so yeah.. kisses from Brazil 😚

• nobody pov •

" At the beginning of it all, it was just darkness, Darkness took over hearts and filled people with fear. But then, the light appeared, the brightest of all, brought to us by our creator, But on one condition, that we would have this light as long as we take care of the root she gave us, We thought it would be an easy task, but the human heart is so selfish, that while we were enjoying the light, the root died more and more every day,And the goddess returned, our creator, she took the light, the hope, the happiness, everything, as punishment for our selfishness we would no longer have anything of what we so desired,But then, when all was lost... the root bore fruit, That as soon as it was opened, it brought a small piece of the much-desired light and hope... it brought a baby, and that baby would be the only and last spark of light in our world fallen into despair "

And the book closes, the little girl sitting in front of her father pouting.

"Is it over??.. and what happened to the baby??"

The father laughs softly and gets up, taking the little girl in his arms, carrying her up the stairs in the unfinished palace.

"the baby grew up and became a little girl, an adventurous, happy... and kind little girl"

He says gently poking the tip of the little girl's nose, making her laugh softly and hug her plush closer,When the old emperor enters the room and puts the girl to bed,Covering her as she looks at the ceiling thoughtfully before looking back at him.

" daddy? "

" yes my dear? "

"When I grow up... do you think I'll be a good empress?"

The emperor runs his hand through his beard, thinking about his daughter's question, when he laughs softly and nods, stroking her hair.

"but of course... you will be a great empress, the best China has ever seen"

He says kissing the girl softly on the forehead before getting up, Heading towards the door before looking at her

"Sleep well little light.. "

And he leaves the girl's room, closing the door before walking away

• ____. Pov •

I wait for my father's footsteps to disappear, before smiling and getting up running to my window and looking down, Waiting anxiously before my eyes light up as it finally happens: the floating lights, Lanterns that my people light every night at this time, my father always said that it is a tribute to me, a little special treat that only I had, My smile getting bigger as I see the sky light up with lanterns

" one day, I will be Empress... the best they can have "

I whisper closing my eyes with a little smile, And when I open them I let out a scream, seeing a man in my window looking at me in silence, when I tilt my head gently to the side and he imitates my movement, making me smile and laugh softly, When I wave and he waves too, before pulling something from behind his back making my eyes light up.

" a floating light.. "

And the man looks at me, before extending it to me

"it's for you... little light"

I hesitate, before reaching out to take the flashlight from his hands,When I let out a little scream when being lifted off the ground

"release the lantern, but throw it up, otherwise it will fall"

The man says calmly, when I do what he said, laughing and clapping when I see the lantern float with the others, when I look at the man holding me

"What's your name sir???"

I see the man think a little, as if he was thinking about whether or not he could say his name, when he looks at me again.

"shan yu, you can call me shan yu"

And my smile gets bigger, when I extend my hand to him

"my name is ____.! It's a pleasure to meet you shan yu!"

And he stays silent before taking my hand gently

"The pleasure is all mine, little light"

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

TIME SKIP --------------------------------------

• nobody's pov •

Years later, every night, at the same time the young girl went to the window to watch the lights, She would meet Shan Yu, every day, every month, every year, Until one day he started coming less and less... until he didn't come anymore, The young girl only noticed how much she missed him once he disappeared, and noticed how her heart cried for him, broke every time he Didn't come, And the lights that were once so bright became opaque, dim... until they no longer had their shine, just as she no longer had the hope of seeing him, But as the years passed, as the moons descended and rose to the sky, as she grew, so did China, and her spirit, She forgot that one day she had even met Shan Yu, having associated him with just an imaginary friend who would never come back because she grew up, she associated him with a simple part of her head, And that was her problem...

One day she was preparing to take over her father's throne, to become the empress of China, but on the night of that day, she was hidden so as not to run into danger, "the Huns attacked" they said, "for your safety you will stay inside the castle" they said, But it was like locking a light in a sieve, it would always find a way to shine, And that's what she did, even with her father's warnings, she ran away from the palace, she wanted to be free, and if she couldn't be empress now then she would have her freedom

The people didn't stop her, after all, they loved how bright and radiant she looked when mingling with them, When happy she always seemed to help her people, how innocent she was in saying that the great wall was unnecessary, But she couldn't do much about it.

• ____. POV •

I sneak up on the palace wall, below my bedroom window, Climbing up the rope that I always leave to go out and go in again, Falling into my room and quickly taking off my cloak as I get up to start getting ready to accompany my father

"quickly, quickly, quickly.. "

I whisper to myself, fixing my hair and spinning in front of the mirror, smiling at my reflection,When I leave my room and quickly go down the stairs, stopping when I see General Li leaving, when I go to my father

"Daddy? What was General Li doing here?"

"The Huns have invaded the north side of the wall. Your coronation will be prolonged again"

And I stay silent before sighing, sitting next to him

"Again... like the last ten times"

I say looking down, the lights of the flames growing dim before my father puts his hand on my shoulder.

"It's for your safety, for now the target is me, and if you are crowned empress while they are still out there, then their focus will return to you, and I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you.. "

I sigh before smiling softly, the lights coming back to shine again

"I understand my father.. and I'm grateful to you for that.. "

And we both smiled, my sisters entering the room minutes later

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

TIME SKIP

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

• Yet ____. POV •

I sit in front of my dressing table in silence, undoing my hairstyle, the lantern lights shining outside and softly illuminating my room, But I didn't care about them as much as I used to, memories of a previous crush make me laugh quietly

" I was ridiculous.. falling in love with an imaginary friend.. I always laugh when I remember that.. "

I whisper to myself with a smile, but my smile falls when a shadow covers the lights coming from outside, When I turn around, and my heart drops, my eyes widen, and the lights outside get absurdly brighter when I see who it was...

". . .shan yu?"

And said man smiles at me, holding a flashlight just like he did when we first met.

" Hello.. My light.. "

UF- I finally finished it.. and I honestly started out wanting to do something cute, but then I thought; " why not make a yandere??" Anyway, I'm going to do a part two soon so... kisses from Brazil 😚

[danwhobrowses]

Okay yeah I wasn't ever gonna be contained with just one post so, Callowmoore stuff that's on rotisserie in my brain from ep.94

Long and deep looks at each other and a hug right off the bat!

When asked by Laudna if they were okay in ep. 91, Ashton deflected with 'say that again?' and 'are any of us?', but when Fearne asks they give a genuine answer and then also ask her how she's feeling, because she's been quiet and they care

Ashton, despite hurting when they're touched and exhausted so the chronic pain is as intense as the first time, still wanting to cuddle with Fearne - and feeling at ease when they do

And like, the way they were trying to articulate it implies that they've wanted to ask for quite some time, but the timing has been off or situations have gotten in the way, and they don't want to wait any longer

But also they don't ask if they can cuddle they ask if Fearne wants to; they want to, but they ask Fearne if she doesn't want to sleep alone, because her comfort is as important or more important than their own

Fearne given her past experiences with people of course thinks they mean the other kind of company, which she notes she does want (so that's not off the table) but asks if they could just cuddle - to which Ashton doesn't entirely deny either, but notes that they're tired and in a lot of pain right now so they too was asking for the same

Also the fact that Fearne, who has been in a threesome inside a corrupted haunted wood, will later flirt with a dark echo of herself, and spooned with a ghost pirate captain, got so flustered about asking Ashton that she just wants to cuddle

Despite the awkwardness they still just laugh and joke together through it, they're awkward but it's in a sweet way

All of Ashton's immediate action the second they realised Fearne was missing - similar to how they wanted to find her after the shard incident but this time in a position where they could take action - no nonsense, no pissing contest with Chetney about her scent being on their bed, "Find. Them. Now."

And then still being soft after seeing Fearne again, because all that matters right now is that she's still here. And another post I saw said it better but, Ashton never seeks to change or 'correct' parts of who Fearne is; she can still follow cute animals just next time bring a buddy along (which given how they were in bed together would imply meaning them), they love her for her, fae and all, they just want her to be safe

Not entirely ep. 94 but given how on 91 Ashton pointed out that they needed to sleep and 'figure out who they wanted to be', and then here ask Fearne to be there beside them so they could have someone to wake up to, it to me at least says a lot about what Ashton has already decided; and how despite both of them having dealt with grief and anger and helplessness by bottling it up, hiding away, and shouldering it alone, this time they both wanted to just feel at ease with each other

[hella1975]

would you like to talk about how bad the mha ending was hella

as much as i would love to give like. a comprehensive response i genuinely dont think i can get my words together just yet without it being a constant unintelligble stream of 'AND ANOTHER THING-' and bc it's become quite torn in the fandom on if the chapter was good or bad i want like. an actual coherent response here. so i will reblog this if/when i can word it but know IM NOT FUCKING HAPPY

[toaspireintodarkness]

"Welcome to the freakshow."

League of Villains x reader?

⚠️TW: Blood, vomiting, neglect/abuse, implication of murder ⚠️

I have no idea what this is-- I had this idea and it just-- yeah.

SLAM.

You could hardly breathe. Blood was all over your hands, splattered all over your clothes as if you were a painter just getting done with a masterpiece. But what you had done was far from a masterpiece. You hadn't meant to. It had just happened���

Oh, face it, you had meant to.

You couldn't take the way they treated you. You couldn't take the way you were treated as if you were an abomination to human kind. It wasn't your fault you were brought into this world. It was their fault. You didn't ask for this life. Ha, you were better without it! It was a living nightmare that never ended. A maze you were stuck in, always turning to the monsters lurking in the shadows.

But now you were the monster.

You were in some strange place, a warehouse that hadn't been used in a decade or more. Dust bunnies lined up in armies, waiting to attack and you wouldn't be surprised if there were spiders and God only knew what else was in here. There was a smell, one that conflicted your nostrils. It tickled your nose, freeing it from the metallic and morbid smell of the crimson staining your body. Cigarettes were one thing, but the faint smell of cup ramen was making your stomach churn in ways it should not. You staggered for a moment, leaning against a palete of old bulk products. You rested your forehead on your arm, your throat tightening as a burning sensation crept up your throat.

"Who the hell is there?"

The voice was low and rough. If a corpse had a voice, that's what it would be. You couldn't answer though. Not without emptying your guts everywhere. 'Oh god, what have I done,' was the only thing running through your head. You should've just ran away. You didn't really need to end their lives, did you? Did they really deserve it?

"Crazy, go check it out."

"Why am I—"

Suddenly, everything it was blurred out as the only thing you could hear was the sound of your own vomit pouring out like a waterfall. Only difference was that it was not pretty and serene. You hadn't even noticed that an ash blond girl, she couldn't be no older than seventeen, was staring rather curiously. Her piercing yellow eyes were dancing over your vulnerable form, her lips curling into a smile as she took in the sight of all the blood.

"Is that your own, or someone else's? Did you kill someone? Oh, look at your hands! You killed someone!"

You killed someone.

You killed... them.

You emptied more out of your stomach, choking back on it. "S-sto–" You gasped for a breath of air. Mucus had filled your nose. You had no choice. It was the matter of survival. The matter of your sanity—or did you even have sanity anymore?

"Toga, I asked what the fuck is..." The rough voice had trailed off before staring at you as well. To him... you looked pathetic. You had blindly found one of the most wanted villain groups while running from whatever the hell it was. He gave a sigh an stepped closer, avoiding stepping into your vomit. His hand grabbed the back of your head, jerking it back so you had to look up at him.

He had darkened turquoise eyes that were small in comparison to his eyes, lacking any light at all. His skin was split by deep purple burn scars that was hanging on by staples that so desperately needed changing. His black hair spiked in every which direction, but it didn't look as though it had gel. The right side of his nose had three piercings, and his lobes were pierced along with the top outer part of his ears.

Now, he did look like he would be a monster lurking in the dark.

"How did you find us?" It was a simple question. You should've been able to answer, but your throat was still sore from emptying your stomach. You still couldn't breath properly.

"I don't think they meant to!" A man wearing a black and grey mask piped up, peeping around the palete. He then pointed an accusing finger at you. "They're a double agent!"

"Shut up!" The burnt man narrowed his eyes at you. His eyes were scanning yours, and while he expected something to be underlying the fear and guilt, he found nothing. However, that didn't mean you were to be trusted. His grip on you slackened. "You need to breath. You'll asphyxiate at this point." You shook your head, and you tried to calm down. You would get to a certain point before what you had done flashed back before your eyes and you were back to gagging.

"I think this was their first kill," Toga gushed. "I remember my first kill. It tasted so–"

"Not helping, Crazy!" Dabi had to skitter back upon bodily fluids leaving your mouth to avoid it getting on him. He sure as hell didn't want to get covered in vomit. He bent over, though cautious of the disgusting liquid that layer the floor. "Listen to me. Whatever reason that you had to do it, you had to do it. It was you, or them–hey! Listen to me!" Dabi grabbed your shoulders, pushing you against the palet and holding you up. "Society will run over you. You did what you had to. You stood up for yourself. You defended yourself. Sometimes we gotta do things that we don't wanna do to survive. It's how our fucked up society works."

You had stopped leaking tears and the nausea had slowly faded, leaving nothing but the raw feeling over your body. You mustered the smallest nod. You still didn't speak—you didn't trust yourself to. Dabi released you, taking a step back. He even checked his shoe to see if he had stepped in one of your puddles, and thankfully, he hadn't. "So you were just running away and found us. Fucking coincidence," he breathed the last part.

"I think it's great! They could be one of us, dont'cha think, Dabi?" Toga reached forward and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to her. You tried to be mindful of not stepping in your own mess as you were pulled into a tight side hug. "Look at'em! They're so cute! Especially covered in all of that blood, it really makes you stand out," Toga gushed. "Do you wanna join the League? You'll fit in great!"

"They'll fit in great alright," Dabi remarked. "Shigaraki will have them dusted the minute he finds out that they can't kill without having a breakdown." Toga's grip tightened.

"But it was their first time! You can't tell me that your first wasn't emotional!" Dabi's stoic gaze said it all. "We can help desensitize them."

"You're annoyingly persistent." Dabi's gaze went back to you. "What do you think about heroes?" The way that 'heroes' fell off of his tongue was icy. It was sour as if he had taste of something bitter on his tongue.

What did you think of heroes?...

You looked down at first. The blood had dried and stained your hands. Over the years... heroes had a chance to help you. All of your teachers did. Your friends had the chance to help, even. The one store keeper on the end of the street who always gave you a discount out of pity. Your neighbors who heard everything that went on, because walls were paper thin.

Dabi was right. You had stood up for yourself. For once in your life, you had stood up for yourself. You had gained your long deserved freedom. You were free as a bird... and despite the crimson substance on you... you couldn't help but to feel relief. You felt happy. You even let out a bittersweet laugh, raising your eyes to meet theirs.

"They've never done anything for me... so why should I care about them? All they care about... is themselves." Dabi had the smallest smirk form, though it only lasted for a brief second as Toga did a small dance and cheered before latching onto you again.

"We're gonna get along just fine!" Dabi started to turn, taking a step away before looking back over his shoulder.

"Welcome to the freakshow."

[aka-indulgence]

📓(for the thought about but never written asks please!)

I have a lot of ideas of “Outcode steals you from Sans”, and rn one of them is an angsty one. You have an unrequited crush on Sans, and the classic case of “Sans is having Emotional Constipation”, pushing you away and unintentionally hurting you, and during an emotional vulnerable moment for you, Nightmare appears, saying he can take the pain away and give you something better…

And it’s a villain “I’m stealing her to be my bride” and you get in over your head and given Nightmare more than you knew you were willing to while Sans goes “aw fuck my gf was stolen!!!!”

… The issue is I wouldn’t know how to end it because I don’t want Sans or Nightmare to be sad by the end because I don’t think they’d be willing to share after the whole Debacle kdfjglhtr

[slashingdisneypasta]

Cruella De Vil x AFAB!Assistant!Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: You find out what your dumbass co-worker has been doing to further her career- you decide to take a leaf outta that book.

Warnings: Smuty. Employer/Employee. References to pussy eating. Unedited.

Imagine walking up to Cruella De Vil's office to hand in some of the designers' works for her to review, all enclosed in a pretty leather-bound folder with straps to tie it closed, and when you approach the door you hear...

Well. Noises.

Immediately your eyes widen, like, oh fuck is that?-

Moaning!??

And what the h e l l is that... wet sound??

The door is ajar. Casey, Cruella's other assistant, was always sloppy about things like that- you did not understand why that whiny little bint got all the good tasks. Going to fancy parties and shows with the Mega Bitch while you stayed in the office doing paperwork. Going through the designs with the Mega Bitch while you got them coffee and dinner orders-- even though she s u c k s at her job!! You are objectively way better, you have the eye just like Cruella does and the confidence to speak up to her. All the designs that Cruella ends up picking, you pointed out. All the outfits Cruella wears so successfully to those events and shows?? YOU PUT THEM TOGETHER!-

... But now, peaking and seeing what's inside the Mega Bitches office- you finally get why.

Your mouth falls open, seeing Casey on her knees under the huge folder Cruella's flipping through- and between her legs. The moans are from her, Casey, and the wet noises??

Those are coming directly from your bosses cunt.

... God. Damn., you think, eyes wide and partly outraged.

If that's what it takes you certainly could've fucken done that!! And better, too. If Casey licked pussy as bad as she did everything else but where a skirt, you knew you could do it better.

Holy shit-

~

The next day you get yourself totally worked up in the bathroom during your break, right before Casey's; ever-so-slowly rubbing your clit between your folds, over your underwear. You got your pussy unbelievably drippy- and you did it thinkinh about the Mega Bitch, your horrible boss, Cruella. Who woulda thought?

Then you slipped off your stockings, sent Casey for her break, grabbed the designs you forgot to hand in yesterday due to the boiling hot career outrage (and, alright, lust- ) with shaky hands, and headed confidently (Determindly) to Cruella's office.

Knock knock, "Ma'am? I have those designs."

She doesnt even look up from her paperwork, speaking surprisingly coherently around the cigerette stick tucked between her molars. "Mhm, you know where they should go Y/N. Hurry up and put them there and get out- I need a coffee. Now."

"Right." Awkwardly, you set them down in the organiser tub labelled designs. When you don't leave after that, instead hovering at her desk (nervous, and unbearably horny), Cruella rolls her eyes, groans, and straightens up with an irritated gait.

"?? Coffee?? Now?? Where bloodywell is it!?" She snaps, such a familiar tone to you. Hopefully that will change, after this, you think with an eye roll.

With that thought, enough to push you forward, you carefully rest your hands on the desk; Leaning down and speaking lowly to the woman. "... Look. I saw what you had Little Miss Short Skirt doing in here, yesterday."

If you expected Cruella to be surprised, ashamed, or flustered in any sense, you were wrong. Good thing you weren't expecting that. Not out of her- you've been her assistant long enough to k n o w the bitch. In the face of your revelation, Cruella just raises an undaunted eyebrow. "... so?"

"I think you and I both know I'd, uh, how should I put this?... perform that particular task, better." Feeling the heat still throbbing inside your underwear, you go on. "And- and I want to."

"... you do?" Cruella sounds deadpanned and uncertain; disbelieving. After a second, she rolls her eyes and goes on, looking back down at her work. You're losing her. "Y/N, I thought you were a serious girl. You took your career seriously. I know that, and so-- that's how I've been treating you. You have potential, don't squander it."

She thinks you have potential?!! She wouldn't say it if she didn't believe it, so- Then how bloody come she's been giving you all the g r u n t work!????-

You know what? Whatever. Keep calm, keep going.

"I won't. I would never." You admit. It's true- you wouldn't do anything to jeopardise your future (Fashion is everything to you and you will make it in the industry.), but you would do anything to make it. "... that's why I'm doing this."

Then you slip down to your knees on the floor, creeping under the table and between the older womans thighs.

It's funny, you've known her so well for so long (as her assistant) it feels half natural to be doing this finally. Like it was building up to this, your lips on her glistening cunt; Your tongue inside her.

It's evident she feels the same, because its no time before her clawed fingers dig into your hair, scraping against your scalp, dragging you deeper against her pussy.

[ivoryghostyy]

the villain fell in love...

you're the war hero of the empire

the common folk chatter about you in the bustling streets, and the bards sing of your adventures

nobles whisper behind their hands, free of the crimson blood and guilt that stains your own

you've won the war, but at what cost?

the lifeless eyes of your comrades still prick your skin. screams haunt your dreams, their bloody hands clawing into your scarred flesh

the empire sees you as a pawn. your title is a glorified cage, and the land you are gifted is far from a reward—the walls have eyes

so, pray tell, how did this sly genius find his way into your room?

…and if it takes another war to get you, well,

nothing compares to a rose stained with blood.

[yum-grass]

Oh btw I finished mag200 in a really mentally unstable place (I was vary end coded, suicidal with a fear of dying, growing up, going nowhere in life etc) and so listening to Jonah pleading for his life just to get struck down anyway (mixed with me not being able to pick up on social cues and not realizing that Jonah was a manipulator(and to be honest i still don’t see it re-listening which is worrying for my future lol))) made me feel like really bad for him because like yeah I’d probably do that to (and I might be doing it now I am a vary bad person) if it meant not dyeing and being wholly consumed in safeness

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 4]

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 4)

ie. So the saying goes, 'nothing gold can stay.' Or, the Prefect is facing yet another Overblot and it drags some unpleasant dilemmas to the surface.

A/N: I have been fighting this for a solid hour now, and Tumblr is just being an absolute nightmare and not letting me add any more tags without crashing/refusing to save the post, so if you got kicked off the list, my sincerest apologies

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

There was a curt knock on Mozus Trein’s door.

The aging professor fought the inelegant urge to drop his head into his hands. After taking a moment to silently curse every other damned member of faculty at this college, he schooled his expression into a vague attempt at neutrality and cleared his throat.

“Enter.”

Divus Crewel and his ridiculous ensemble strutted into Trein’s office, and the historian barely bit back a sneer. He and the other professor had never gotten on at the best of times. Perhaps they would tolerate one another for the occasional game of chess, but the other man’s opinions on more or less everything (especially dogs. Ugh.) rankled something unpleasant in Trein’s chest. Call him old fashioned, but intentionally sharpening oneself into something miserable, and cold, and alone all in the name of maintaining an appearance of sophistication was something he would never respect.

Lucius growled from his place by the windowsill, and Crewel very noticeably fought to keep himself from raising his hackles in return. The black-and-white monstrosity leant forward and placed a bottle of red whine on Trein’s desk with a clack.

“What is it now?” Mozus frowned.

Divus didn’t bother to sit in the chair opposite him. He never did. He paced along one of the bookcases for a moment, trailing his crimson gloves along the leather spines.

“More of the same, I suspect,” he finally huffed.

Trein sighed and rifled around in his desk drawers to unearth his chest set. Not the good one—the one with hand-carved, stone, pieces that his daughters had given him for his birthday two years ago. This set wasn’t terribly ugly, and it did the job well enough. Plus, the worn colors lining the board always made something in Crewel’s jaw tick.

“Well,” he grumbled, setting the pieces into place and reaching for the wine. Divus Crewel was entirely unpleasant, but at the end of the day, Mozus had never been one to deny a willing student. And oh if there wasn’t so much that this egomaniacal alchemist still needed to learn. “Get on with it then.”

.

.

A part of you was sort of expecting to see one of those ‘WELCOME HOME, CHEATER’ banners nailed to the Rogersons’ front porch.

Which, firstly, come on. It’s not like you maybe vaguely starting to not loathe your time spent with Crewel with every fiber of your being was a crime. And you were still miserable and mad. Stupid, no good, stuck up, no-dad-being, emotionally unavailable—ahem. Excuse you. But you had eaten a few of those fancy cookies. And you were certain that Poe and Perdy would smell Jasper and Badun’s cuddles a mile away. And as much as you rationalized it forwards and backwards that you weren’t wrong, a part of you still felt… traitorous.

Secondly, the Rogersons were genuinely nice people. And you should have known at this point that they of all the adults in your life would hardly judge your for accepting any scraps of kindness being offered to you. (Unlike a certain Old Crow with whom you were well acquainted.)

All that being said, you were still a bit hesitant when you knocked on their front door that evening. Nevertheless, you were met you with a wave of enthusiastic greetings (plus a knitted set of gloves and a hat), as they ushered you back out the door with the promise of new and interesting things.

“We thought it’d be a nice change of pace,” Mister Rogerson explained. He and Annie were holding hands as you all walked down their quaint street, tucked up neatly in one of the roomy pockets of his overcoat. “And you didn’t get to come with us over the Holidays either.”

“There isn’t much else to do on Sage Island for most of year,” Annie said. “But the Winter Festival is always really lovely.”

The Winter Festival was like something out of a story book—all toned in watercolors and lit with a golden warmth that didn’t really seem feasible when the weather was otherwise so frigid. Magic, probably. Everything wonderous here was always magic. The air smelled honey-sweet, and you could feel the rising heat from dozens of outdoor ovens warming your cheeks.

“It’s busiest over the holiday period,” Annie explained merrily, reaching out to adjust the new hat on your head. “But most of the stalls stay open a few weeks later.”

“You missed all the rides unfortunately,” Mister Rogerson continued, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “But if you’re still around next year, we’ll make sure to bring you when everything’s in full swing.”

There was a decent sized crowd filtering sluggishly through the faire, happy to meander about with their Styrofoam mugs of cocoa and browse the displays. There were more people your age milling about than you would have expected (as nice as this all was, it definitely seemed more like an ideal outing for a retirement home than anyone young enough to still have their original hip bones). Mostly you recognized the clean, crisp, white jackets of the RSA uniform, but occasionally there was a splotch of a more familiar black ensemble darting about amongst them.

“Have you ever had a fritter before?” Mister Rogerson called from his place by a stall that smelled like Heaven compressed into a cubic-meter.

“Not since I’ve been here,” you practically drooled, feeling very much like one of those cartoon characters who could merrily float through the air after the tantalizing scent of baked sweets.

“Do you want the sugar sprinkled? The caramel drizzle?” A laugh then, quick and bright, as he caught sight of the lovestruck (and ravenous) look on your face. “Both?” he offered indulgently.  

There was another laugh then—raucous and loud. And a familiar face darted by with a mouth stuffed full of way too many festively frosted donuts.

“Hey! You get back here!” someone shouted, enraged and shaking their fist. “Free samples’ doesn’t mean a free for all! Did you hear me?! I said get back here!”

But Ruggie Bucchi just kept on running, his fluffy ears perked atop his head and his steel-grey eyes thinned with obvious amusement. He rushed past, and you met gazes just quickly enough to catch a smirk and a wink before he was off and around a corner—surely vanished into areas unknown to enjoy his haul.

You laughed into your gloves and turned back to your escorts for the evening with a beam, ready to suggest maybe just buying out the rest of the stall. Ruggie would love it. He’d probably even help you manage Leona’s tantrums without grumbling for at least, like, a week.

But they weren’t smiling.

The grin on your own lips slowly slipped back down into a flat line, and you fought the urge to fidget. Like somehow you’d done something wrong. Annie just sighed and shook her head. Mister Rogerson pinched at the bridge of his nose with a huff—the picture of a properly disappointed teacher.

“Well, can’t say anyone would expect Night Raven students to not be a handful.”

Something curdled a little in your tummy, and you tamped down the urge to immediately and aggressively rise to Ruggie’s defense. They were only free samples! And he loved donuts! And he never really had much money for anything of his own anyways! And they were free! And!—And…

“Ruggie doesn’t have anybody to buy him donuts,” you said at last, when the vendor handed you your own little paper bag overflowing with fritters.

Annie and Mister Rogerson looked at you curiously, clearly a bit lost, and you huffed.

“Ruggie,” you repeated. “The guy from earlier. With—with the samples.”

You could feel your shoulders hunch, defensive. And you didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like—they weren’t going to be mad at you or anything. And Ruggie was your friend. It didn’t seem right to let them just assume the worst of him.

“Oh,” Annie hummed, face softening. “Of course, sweetheart. But maybe he could ask first next time, okay? We’d be happy to treat any of your friends.”

You nodded and nibbled at your fritter. It was warm and crispy, perfectly fried and with a sugar crust that melted on your tongue like the sweetest kiss. It was delicious, really it was. But still somehow not quite as good as you’d thought it’d be.

.

.

When you arrived back to Ramshackle that evening, there was wallpaper on the walls.

You squinted at it suspiciously and tapped one of the glued-down edges with your finger. It didn’t vanish or eat you, so maybe it wasn’t an illusion. But why on Earth would anyone bother to try and give this place a facelift—

The front door burst open and Crowley blew in like a hurricane.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” he boomed. “There’s no one else I trust at this school quite like I trust you, oh wonderful and best of all Prefects! So I’m making you the lead producer for our VDC performance!”

You gaped, too familiarized with this nonsense to be as horrified as you probably ought to be.

“What’s a VDC?” you asked.

“That’s a great question!” Crowley beamed. “But first, let me introduce you to your new roommates!”

When the House Warden of Pomefiore and his entourage walked through your rickety front door, you felt something familiar, and awful, and inky swoop in your stomach.

“This building should be condemned,” Vil Schoenheit sniffed with all the grace of someone who definitely probably had a lot of underlying issues that were about to become your very real problem.

Crowley scuttled forward cheerfully to pin a tag labeled ‘MANAGER’ to your uniform jacket.

“Look how far you’ve come!” he sniffled, wiping dramatically at his gaping, soulless, eyes. “I’M SO PROUD!”

“…You can just put your bags over there,” you mumbled, so far past functioning on autopilot you may as well just ask Idia to turn your brain into an AI and get it over with it.

Epel dropped his suitcase near the living room’s rug and immediately the ancient floorboards opened up like the maw of some ravenous beast to swallow them whole. The group of you watched with varying degrees of distaste as his luggage plummeted to the basement, or… whatever existed below the crumbling wood. You’d never checked.

“I have the upmost faith in you!” Crowley chirped before jetting back out the door as quickly as he’d come.

.

“You did what?!” Crewel snapped.

“What!” Crowley whined. “Isn’t giving your child more responsibilities a sign of trust?! An act of faith between parent and spawn?! DOES THIS NOT SHOW HOW MUCH I VALUE THEIR COMPETENCE?!”

“No,” Trein groaned, burying his head in his hands.

.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Vil said, with all the cheer of someone undergoing a root canal. “I have nothing but well-wishes for Neige Leblanche and his many, worthy, successes.”

Buzz buzz went Ace’s phone as another of Neige’s advertisements lit the screen.

Drip drip went the heavy, black, magic curling around Vil Schoenheit’s soul.  

You fought the urge to put your head through the wall.

.

.

The next evening came, as did another bottle of too-expensive wine.

Trein swirled the crimson liquid miserably in his glass.

“Do you know that I chastised the Prefect once? For calling Crowley incompetent?”

Divus sounded worn in a way that he most likely had no right to be, but progress was progress Trein supposed. The alchemist snorted sardonically into his own glass. Normally the wine was a bribe for the elder professor alone, but tonight it was a truce to be shared in bleak solidarity.

“Time makes fools of us all,” Trein hummed.

“What is he even thinking?” Crewel seethed. “As if the Prefect isn’t under enough stress as it is. What exactly does he think these stunts will accomplish?”

“I don’t think he’s thinking very much at all, to be perfectly honest with you,” Trein grumbled. “But then again, making impulsive decisions in the name of parental affection is far from a novel concept.”

Divus scoffed. “Ah, yes. Because that’s what the runt needs. A mockup of fatherhood bearing down their neck at every turn. It’s like he’s not even bothering to actually try.”

“Someone ought to be,” Mozus said, pointed. (And it certainly wasn’t going to be him. He had two, lovely, wonderful daughters to fill his heart. There wasn’t much room left for anything else.)

Crewel glowered at him miserably and sighed in a drawn-out sort of way that was not dissimilar to someone taking a too-long drag from a cigarette.

“It’s not something that fits with…” he hesitated, as if trying to chew over the words into something palatable. “I have no desire to give up everything that I’ve ever wanted to see in myself, to give up everything I’ve worked for, just to mold myself into some—some glorified babysitter.”  Something stuck unpleasantly in his throat and he had to clear it twice before continuing. “Especially for someone who may very well be leaving this world forever in a few months as it is.”

The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously through the silence. Each little second fell in a heavy clunk. clunk. clunk. that echoed around the room with all the gentility of a gong. After a long moment, Trein sighed into his glass.

“Being a parent is not about sacrificing your own sense of self in order to cater to your child,” he huffed. “It is about being there to nurture the development of their own.”

Crewel pointedly averted his gaze to one of the ugly, cat-centric, paintings on the wall.

“And perhaps for you a handful of months may not be sufficient,” the older man continued, swirling his wine. “But I’m sure for the Prefect, it would make all the difference in the world.”

.

.

Detention continued, despite your stacking ‘managerial responsibilities.’

Thankfully, it had mostly turned into you sitting in Crewel’s office while you sorted through whatever paperwork you were expected to file and complete. Sometimes a good chunk of the pages would disappear from your ‘in progress’ pile and reappear—perfectly completely and in order—at the end of the evening. You were dead set on never addressing it ever, because if you did he might stop. And he was probably the only reason you were managing to get any of it done on time at all.

Even with Professor Crewel’s help, you were still slow today. And as the night crawled to a close, you found yourself staring at a stack of blank pages without a thought to go with them. The only thing swimming in your head was murky tar and the cloying taste of black magic that came with it.  

“Is there something you want to discuss?” Crewel called from his desk across the room. “You seem distracted.”

“I can’t,” you grumbled, something wobbling in your jaw. “Not to the people I want to talk about it with at least.”

Something shuttered slipped across his expression, and he nodded and went back to his own work. You stared at him for another moment, debating.

“What do you if—” you froze and hurriedly looked back down to the pen in your hands.

“If…?” Crewel pressed.

You sighed. “You know, sometimes you care about people, yeah? And maybe they’re not always perfect, but you still care. But then…” You chewed at your lip. “I don’t know. Can people still be good if they do bad things sometimes? Like, if you’d disagree with them completely, but they see it as right anyways?”

‘They’d be taken away?’

‘I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can. Does that make sense?’

You thought of Riddle, and Leona, and Azul, and Jamil. And now Vil. You grit your teeth so hard they started to ache.

Professor Crewel looked a bit startled, and you couldn’t really blame him. It was the most you’d spoken to him in weeks.

“I suppose that would depend on you,” he said after a moment. “And if that ‘disagreement’ was big enough to change how you viewed them entirely.”

“I don’t know…” you frowned. It certainly felt like something big. But...

“Well, what have you done about it?”

You blinked. “What?”

He waved his hand at you, and that pointer of his snapped across his palm. “Have you told this person that what they’ve said bothered you?”

“…well, no,” you mumbled.

“Then that’s what you need to do first,” he said, firm. “You won’t have an answer to anything you’re fretting about until you can face that at least.”

“And then what?”

Professor Crewel hesitated then, his mouth working as if he couldn’t really decide what he wanted to say. Or maybe like he was thinking over his words very, very, carefully.

“Do they know that they’ve done wrong by you?” he asked at last, not quite as sharp as before. “And—more importantly—if they know they’ve upset you, are they trying to make it right?”

You had a sudden feeling that he wasn’t really talking about your question anymore. The words settled heavily in your gut, but not in a way that was entirely unpleasant. More like the comfort after eating a full meal rather than the all-encompassing dread that so often took residence there instead. You thought of fancy cookies, and dogs, and cozy coats that were warmer and softer than the best blankets you’d ever used.

“Right,” you said after a moment, and glanced away with a secretive sort of smile. “I guess that would be the most important bit.”

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[racke7]

Sooo... I got bored and started trying to make crossovers happen again.

And basically, I've realized how very close BNHA and Worm are to each other, as far as settings are concerned.

Like, there are underlying differences in the world-building, but:

Powers appeared from an unknown source

Heroes and Villains are a thing

Powers are very unique, but tend to be "thematic" in families

In my opinion, the biggest differences between the settings are:

BNHA takes place in Japan, Worm in the USA

Scion is a well-known "all the powers"-cape, AFO is an unknown "all the powers"-cape

Worm has Endbringers

And... that's pretty much it.

Which lead me to think about "BNHA with Endbringers" and... it sure does fuck with the setting a LOT.

[pr0cyon-lotor]

I want to put Kim Dokja and Shen Yuan in a terrarium and study them like a science experiment

Idk I just think they'd be silly interacting

I mean two (not so secretly sweet and caring) guys with protagonist husbands