#notably very few people were cheering for him

[erikahenningsen]

Fulfilling my gay civic duty (booing the mayor of NYC at the pride parade)

[hadesisqueer]

One of the things I really disagree with is that benders in LoK are weaker than in ATLA.

Like, maybe normal benders kinda were. Peaceful times and all, average benders in LoK probably weren't as strong or trained as people who were forced to learn how to fight because there was a war going on.

Now, top benders, benders who actually take a role in the story? Not really.

We didn't actually see many Firebenders in LoK aside Mako, Iroh II, P'li and 88yo Zuko who we only saw fight once at the North Pole at night, at his weakest, okay. And well, Korra. Still, P'li was one of the rarest benders in the franchise. And Mako was a pretty talented Firebender, and Korra was about his level except the lightning generation thing. They're not Ozai or Iroh, okay, I'll give you that, but about Show Zuko level. And Iroh II was pretty good too.

We didn't see many Airbenders in ATLA, with the whole Aang being the last one thing. We know Gyatso was great we didn't actually see him bend (aside throwing pies or messing with Aang to cheer him up), nor any other airbenders aside other kids-- and also, all that was before ATLA, in flashbacks. Aang was a prodigy and very powerful. But in LoK, Tenzin wasn't a slouch either. Neither was Jinora, who was also a spiritual prodigy, or Zaheer, or even Kai, who was also pretty good considering the kid had only gotten airbending a few weeks ago. And Korra herself ended up becoming a pretty good airbender. Neither her or nearly all of the others were at Aang the Airbending Prodigy's level, okay, but all of them were good, most of all Tenzin. Tenzin was one of the strongest benders in the franchise overall, and tbh he was probably better than ATLA Aang (but probably not as good as Peak Aang).

The strongest Earthbenders in ATLA are Toph and King Bumi, and most of all Toph, I agree with saying that they are stronger than all the other Earthenders in LOK; the only ones who could keep up with them in terms of just earthbending are people like Yun or Jianzhu from Kuruk's and Kyoshi's Era, or, you know, Kyoshi herself as an adult. However, those are the two only Earthbenders who stick out more than LOK'S. The other talented Earthbenders in ATLA-- guys, come at me. Come at me, look me in the eye and tell me that you actually think Tyro or Haru could beat Lin, Su or Kuvira. Tell me that you actually think that any Dai Li agent of Aang's time could beat Bolin or Ghazan. C'mon, tell me, tell me that you actually believe that. Toph was the exception of ATLA, not the rule. Aside her and probably Bumi —and Lavabending and Metalbending could still give any of the others an advantage against him that gives them the ability to put up a good fight—, any Earthbender in LOK could probably beat any other Earthbender in ATLA without breaking a sweat.

And in terms of Waterbending it's not just that the Waterbenders in LOK are as strong as the ATLA ones, it's that most of them are stronger. The only notable Waterbenders in ATLA (the only ones if we're being honest, we didn't see many Waterbenders). Were Katara, Pakku, Hama and Aang. Aang was a weaker Waterbender than any of the previously mentioned ones, and Bloodbending inventor Hama got beat up by 14yo Katara. So, really, the strongest ones are Katara and Pakku. Now, Legend of Korra had, let's see *checks* Amon, Yakone, Unalaq, Tarrlok, Korra herself, Ming-Hua-- damn, even 'weaker' Waterbenders like Tonraq, Kya II, Eska or Desna are still pretty skilled. Most Waterbenders in LOK are insanely OP, and generally stronger than even the strongest at ATLA. For example, in terms of raw power —idk about skill, that's a different thing—, Amon beats people like Katara and Pakku easily; his raw power was, well, more powerful than Korra's, who has the biggest pure Waterbending feat in the franchise, and than Tarrlok's, who had more raw power than Korra, at least in Book 1. The guy was likely the most powerful non-Avatar bender in the franchise.

[floredaqueen]

billy and isa after a huge fight? 👀👀 (love, love, LOVVEEE your art and fics! keep up the great work, baby doll! you’re so fab :))

Hello, helloo!!♡

I love love LOOOOVVVEEE YOU!! And you're so lovely ♡♡ I hope I can do your ask justice (also sorry in advance if it takes me forever to finish but I hope you enjoyy♡>///< ♡♡

BLURB +18

TW: Deals w/Bullying, Heavy Profanity, Billy being a dickhead. Hurt w/Comfort The usual ♡

...

Isa and Billy don't really fight, especially since Isa is very conflict avoidant. She's getting better at that communication, but they rarely ever yell, scream, or say mean things to one another. If they ever did fight, it was probably during the first year they met; their senior year...

The first week of senior year for Isabela was like riding a bike. Easy A's all across the board. The Latina was already climbing the academic totem pole, and now, with all of her extracurriculars, she'd be moving faster and to new heights. She made time for other important tasks, not having much of it for boys or crushes.. that is until she heard about the new boy from Cali.

Rumors were already spreading, and he hasn't even been seen on campus anywhere yet. Just a few greetings on account to the popular girls at school, including her friend - and co-captain of the cheer squad- Nova James.

Still, though, to the intelligent Latina, it was all up to interpretation.. until she saw him strutting in with his denim on denim ensemble. His dirty blonde mullet perfectly quafted, and his ocean blue gaze stared down anyone, whether intentional or not. Her Hersheys chocolate gaze heavied one every perfect aspect he had to offer. His chilled chin was probably a dream to lovingly scratch, his very well-shaped hair, his piercing blue eyes that made her fold into herself, and his beautiful smile. He was all perfect.. too perfect.. which is why she wasn't surprised he turned out to be a complete asshole.

When they first crossed paths, he didn't even acknowledge her, the Cali boy bumping into her and only rolling his eyes in annoyance before brushing her off to the side. That when she knew he was a jerk, even if he was the most beautiful boy she's ever seen.

Later that day, she'd see him a few more times. He was notably in her calculus honors class, looking as confused as one who wasn't ready for this level of comprehension. Out of the corner of her wide eyes, Isabela could Billy trying to get someone's attention... and then he turns to her. He turns to her, whispering, "Hey,"s and "Excuse me,"s until he decides to get her attention by force.

The next thing the fresh-faced senorita knows is she's being hit on the side of the head with a balled up piece of notebook paper. She didn't believe it at first, still trying to process it right as he threw another. The second ball of paper clung to her hair as she turned around to face him, an annoyed expression on her face as she met his eyes.

As "taboo" as Isabela was to Billy, he had to admit that she wasn't half bad looking. In fact, she looked veey sweet with her pouting lip. Her eyes were so full and bright even theough her glasses, like a deer. He found it cute when she very clearly was getting nervous just by the look of him. He knew he could have that effect on people.

Billy smiled with teeth, his eyes setting on her filled out worksheet to note that she one hundred percent knew what she was doing. All of the questions filled out precisely by the slightly timid hispanic. A smart girl too? He knew it's be fun to make her lose her cool.

"What?" Isabela would whisper in annoyance, already wanting this interaction to be over. Of course, quite the opposite happened, Billy dragging on his words as if he was spelling it out for her. top!

"You mind helping me with this assignment? I'm a little lost," He asked, all with a toothy smile. Isa dead panned for a moment, letting herself express a bit of her annoyance with an eyebrow before turning to her own worksheet.

"Clearly," She muttered under her breath before handing him her notes. He looked over them and then stashed them in his notebook on the other side of her desk.

"The hell are you doing??"

"I'm gonna need this if I plan on passing any assignments for this week," Isabela huffed at his snark response as she tried to snatch his folder. Swiftly he moved his things, and her worksheet, away from her grasp.

"Give it back!" She whispered with an annoyed twitch with her upper lip. She even tried to grab at it, Billy quickly gripping her wrist only to throw her hand back in her direction.

"I don't hear that magic word, sweetness," With an eye roll and the crossing of her arms, Isa let it go, hoping she can get it back at least at the end of the day.

...

It'd be like that for the rest of the school year. Isa would be minding her business (and admiring Billy from afar) and the asshole in question would tease her and steal her work if he managed to get his hands on it. As annoying as it was it never got violent.. and it was pretty tame.. until one day.

Isa couldn't shake the feeling of so many eyes on her. She was able to hold her head high, but it felt near impossible today. When she did catch a few guys staring and snickering, she realized it was at her.. was there something on her face? In her hair..? What was their deal??

The hispanic scholar would soon find that out when she was approached by Tommy Hagan. The freckle covered guy was snickering as he walked over, crossing his sweater clad arms as he leaned against the locker beside hers.

"Wheeler, when were you gonna let me in on your dirty little secret..?" He jibed mischievously as Isa attempted to ignore him while retrieving her materials for her next class.

"What are you on about, Hagan..?" She turned to face him, her eyes rolling in response to his snarky grin. He casually shrugged his arms, not-so-subtly cornering her against the metal lockers while simultaneously spilling all of beans to her.

"Well, it seems that a hefty amount of my friends know what's under that pretty skirt of yours.. and I was wondering if I could get in on th-" Before Tommy could even finish his sentence, he was met with a hard slap against his face. It even has him stepping back a bit, giving Isabela ample time to hastily walk away from that conversation.

She knew for a fact he was spouting bullshit.. but it was strange that he had the balls to tell her, so who told him that? Who would even believe it? Whoever it was, she couldn't take for another second someone trying to shit on her perfect reputation and perception of who she really was.

By 6th period, things had only gotten worse, the overwhelmed Isabela finding herself hiding behind the abandoned bleachers that clung to the outskirts of the outdoor basketball court. She was calming herself down, attempting to get lost in one of her favorite Shakespeare fables, wondering if she'd ever find something as tantalizing as this culture phenomenon wrote about instead of having to deal with the likes of these jerks in this podink town..

One of her dainty, delicate hands wiped the tears developing in her eyes from the thought of all the mean and assuming words that were thrown her way today. Isa continued to keep her focus on the pages until she heard a snap of a twig.

The snap was caused by none other than the pretty boy she's been trying steadily to avoid, one of his calloused hands running through dirty blonde curls as the other flicked at his lighter to light the cigarette between his full lips.

She thought quickly.. too quick. She practically scattered as she jumped off the bleachers only to hide behind them on the other side as the rest of possey appeared beside him. The hung out beside on her side, too close to wear she kept herself as hidden as she could.

Their conversation went about as the latina thought it would, overhearing the socialites go on and on about on about their usual. Having or crashing parties, stealing booze from their parents' liquor cabinets, unprotected sex in the most obscene of places.. and girls.. but not just any girls. It was hurt they were joking about..

"Man, Isabela is so damn up tight," Tommy starts with a heavy huff. The side of his face was stilly slightly red from the hearty slap the latina previously gave him.

"The prude acts like she has a stick up her ass every time a guy walks up to her," He jibed, earning a soft giggle from Carol as they both relaxed against the brick wall.

"Only because she's never had dick in her life," She deduced, taking another hit of her tobacco stick.

"Yeah.. because she's boring," Billy finally snorts while crossing his denim covered arms. They both look at him with curious eyes, confused about his knowledge of the mouse that was way closer than they thought she was.

"I dont know about you, but I'm not getting a hardon for someone who's probably going to end up with cats because she doesn't know how to open her legs, "

The other takes, Isa's heard before. They were superficial and petty, especially coming from the two infamous idiots who's never worked for anything. But from Billy? Like an idiot, she thought he'd be above this, but his words hit right on her already racing heart.

"Good point," Tommy nodded, stomping out how own cig as Billy started.

"That's why I spread that rumor about her. Was trying to do her a favor. Maybe she'll actually get laid and get her first taste of dick.." The blonde said matter-of-factly as if she should be thanking him.

"Seems Billy has a soft spot for the prude," Carol would scoff teasingly, her face practically egging him on to prove her wrong. Billy, of course, denies her accusation.

"Nah. You won't ever see me going out with that bitch.."

All of those words.. those mean hurtful words. As much as she promised herself not to let it hurt her, Isa couldn't stop the constant stream of tears going down her cheeks. She tried to remain quiet, but a soft sniff of a breath gave her away.

"Who's there??" The alpha of the pack of wolves called out, his sharp blues finding sorrowful wide does eyes as Isa revealed herself to the group. They all sighed, embarrassed that she just happened to be there to listen to the conversation about her. With the tears still running down her glowing cheeks, they felt a little guilty. Not Billy, though. All Billy could think about was how pretty she looked when she cried. All sweet and innocent, even if they're hope was crushed.

"..you spread those rumors about me..?"

"C'mon, Wheeler- it was a j-"

"You're the reason why guys are following me??? Why everyone is calling me a slut, and how I simplemente no puedo guardarlo en mis pantalones cuando tÚ ERES EL VERDADERO PERRO,"

It was silent for a few seconds after that, the wind the only thing between them before Billy broke the airy stillness with a chuckle.

"You're just upset that I wouldn't waste my time on someone like you.. but," He lazily takes a heavy step forward in her direction.

"If you keep that up..." The way his eyes relaxed gave Isa pause, and then she could feel her body tense as he invaded her space. "..I might throw you a bone,"

Right then and there, she completely tensed, her hand swinging open palm to connect with his face for a hard slap. Neither of them had time to register it as the left side of Billy's face stung.

"You don't know what I could do for you," Isa's voice shook in a shaky whisper, stepping ever closer towards her bully.

"You thinking thay one would get a leg up just by being with you, when you can't even fathom how lucky you'd be to have me. To be with me..." Her sharp eyes stayed on Billy as he scoffed and kept his head held high, obviously not expecting the slightly menacing utterance of her words. For some reason, it was hard to keep a steady eye contact.. The braniac then tilted her head as her brows furrowed.

"..maybe, you wouldn't be so insecure.." was the last thing she said before she turned around and grabbed her things. Billy sucked his teeth, not even realizing that his nails were digging into his own palms.

He watched as everyone around him brushed it off as her being sensitive.. but he knew she was right. And that was something he hated about her. She was always. Fucking. Right.

...

Every other day after, Billy couldn't ignore the heavy weight in his chest. Best believe he tried, using all the usual tricks he had up his denim sleeve. But no matter how much drugs, girls, and bench pressing he did, he knew what he had to do to really get over.

Suddenly, after the usual attempt to mind melt at one of Tommy's parties, he found himself at the Wheeler residence. It was nicer than he anticipated, turning off the loud engine so as not to disturb anyone else.

Isabela was half asleep, cuddling her pillow in nothing but a tank top, mint colored undies, and sunflower socks she had recently bought from the mini market. So, when she heard -and soon saw- rocks being thrown at her window..

Begrudgingly, she got up, her footsteps as light as a feather. Billy annoyingly felt his body slightly perk uo at the sound of the front door unlocking, only to see Isa all tuckered out and peering up at him.

"Good, I got your attention.." He jibed, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets as his sharp blues took her in. Usually, Billy excelled at eye contact.. but this time around, his eyes roamed a lot more than he meant for them to.

Her curls were all messy, her nipples were poking out of her baby tee, and her bottom lip was pouted out. Fuck. Out of all the times to feel something for this girl, this was the worst time.

"What do you want, Hargrove?" She huffed, watching as he slightly awkwardly straightened up.

"I just wanted to.. uh.." He began to trail off, his eyes drifting down to her legs. Billy then only realized how he's never seen them before. They've been hidden by all the loose jeans and maxi skirts she'd wear.

He didn't expect them to be so.. toned. Every smooth curve was built with muscle even though she was known to be light on her feet. Not to mention her huge thighs.

"Yea- okay.." She rolled her eyes, going to close the door in his face only for Billy to swiftly propped his arm up against the hatch.

"I came here to... apologize" There was a long pause after that, the latina blinking a couple of times before parting her lips.

"Well, you're very bad at it," He scoffed, annoyed at her snarky remarks she'd conjure up from every word he spoke.

"Yeah, I've gathered that," He'd pause, letting the air between them fill the silence for a bit as he thought about what to say.

"You didn't deserve what I put you through. It wasn't right, and—" and as he continued to practally ramble, Billy became all the more aware of being under her scrutiny. He could feel her big brown, fatigued eyes studying his every word before her whole demeanor relax.

This.. this whole situation was weird. Why the hell did he feel like this? No girl has ever made him think twice about the words that would flawlessly flow from his kissable lips. And out of all the girls at Hawkins, it was some measly little book worm that had him fumbling.

Isa wasn't doing good either. She was starting to believe him, her mind running through his emotions as he spoke. Billy seemed sincere, but Latina refused to expose her sympathy. Her expression stayed neutral.

By the end of it, the silence between them returned and thickened, Billy cleared his throat before he crossed his strong arms.

"..As much as your apology is appreciated, I don't accept it..." She softly spoke, grabbing the edge of the hatch. As he tried to protest, he was met with a door being shut in his face.

♡♥︎♡...♥︎♡♥︎

[doeidawn]

☁︎ — see you next saturday

a night at the bar turns interesting when a masked stranger crosses your path. he's far from approachable, but something about him draws you in until you're coming to the bar every weekend just to see him. he's enigmatic and exciting—exactly what you needed to interrupt the monotony of life. 11.2k

⟢ pairing: ghost x f!reader

⟢ tags: MDNI/18+; author is american and apologizes in advance—this probably isn't how bars in the UK are, sorry; ghost is unnamed for 95% of the fic but it pays off; alcohol consumption (no one gets drunk, it's just some sipping); awkward first meeting; slow-burn??? idk sex doesn't happen til the very end; implied size difference; biker!ghost; semi-public sex; fingering; table sex; praise; unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it); oral sex [m receiving]; facial

Another excited cheer from the table behind you tells you that one of the football teams on screen has scored. Though you couldn’t care less about the game, you catch a glance at the television hung on the wall near the bar to watch the score rise. Aside from sipping on the same drink and watching people filter in and out all night, you didn’t have anything better to do, anyway.

A night out at the bar probably wasn’t the most efficient use of your time, or your money, but after a week of grueling work and the ever-increasing stress of life, it felt nice to ignore everything for a while. As long as you didn’t drink enough to hate yourself the next morning, who were you to deny yourself some fun? Well, as fun as watching drunk people mingle could be. A cheap local bar wouldn’t give way for much excitement.

You were almost thankful for that. The wrong kind of excitement only would’ve added to the weight on your shoulders. Yet, a part of you still yearned for something more than the monotony of asking the bartender for another round while your eyes scanned the crowds. Only two drinks in and already you were practically praying for an interesting face to look your way and add something that resembled anticipation to your life.

You set your glass down on the bartop with a sigh. Another cheer comes from your left, drawing your attention towards the table of patrons with their eyes glued to the television wearing their excited smiles. It’s only a momentary glance, but with your head turned in their direction, you notice the first interesting face you’ve seen all night.

Rather, it was the lack of his face that drew you in. Just a few seats down the bar stood a tall man, dressed head to toe in dark clothing, sliding an empty glass toward the bartender. Perhaps the most notable thing about him is how his hood sits on his head and a mask covers the bottom half of his face. Is that skull print on the fabric?

Whoever he was, he didn’t seem too keen on letting other people know. Part of you was surprised he was even allowed to be served. To say he looked suspicious would be putting it mildly. 

But there was something about him that caught your attention and wouldn’t let go. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the air of mystery that clung to him, or maybe it was your desperate need for excitement. At this point, you couldn’t quite tell what the reason was, but his presence was magnetic. 

His head turns slightly to look up at the television mounted near the bar. For a split second, you thought he had noticed you somehow. You don’t know why it affected you enough to make your heart leap into your throat, but it was enough to make you stop staring out of fear you’d come off rude.

Your leg bounces nervously on the barstool, itching to walk you over to him. But, Christ, you’ve been out of the game for a while, and you have to assume his…unique sense of attire was to wade off any unwanted conversation. What would you even say to a guy like that? Compliments aren’t easy when you can’t see any part of the man’s face. 

Your fingertips run over the edge of your glass and you can’t help but bring your eyes back over to him. Still focused on the game. 

“What’s with the mask?” The words leave your mouth before you can give them a second thought. You regret it almost immediately, hoping that maybe between the music and the surrounding conversations that he couldn’t hear you. 

There’s a slow turn of his head in your direction. His eyes meet yours, but instead of curiosity you find nothing but a piercing gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s hard to tell in the dim light of the bar, but you swear his gaze moves over you before he turns his attention to the bartender.

Bummer. Well, it was worth a shot…even if you think you’ll have to order another drink to prevent yourself from cringing on the memory later. 

You huff another sigh and swirl your drink, watching the liquid move in the glass. If nothing else, at least you got a good night of people-watching and paid enough attention to the game to know what your coworkers will talk about on Monday. The next sip burns your throat as you swallow. 

“Tactical advantage.” A baritone voice—suddenly very close to you—comes from your left and startles you, making you jump in your seat. 

Your eyes dart to the side, wide in panic, meeting a masked face looking down at you. You curse under your breath, unsure whether it’s appropriate to feel relieved.

“Pardon..?”

“You asked about the mask,” the man gestures vaguely towards his fabric-covered face as he moves to sit on the barstool next to you. The old material groans under his weight. “Tactical advantage.” 

You couldn’t help but continue to stare at him. You could tell he was a bigger guy from far away, but, Jesus, he was even bigger up close. Not just tall, but his shoulders were broad and his hands practically dwarfed the glass he was holding. He was, objectively, terrifying.

Yet, you couldn’t help but smile at his simple, concise words. “Yeah? And what advantage is that?”

“To hide my face.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt at comedy. “Well, I coulda guessed that.”

“You asked.” He looks over at you and instead of the piercing gaze from before, there’s something much warmer in his eyes. You wish you could see if he had a smug smile to accompany his words. 

“That I did.” You take another sip of your drink, hoping it’ll continue to keep your nerves settled. “So why d’you wanna hide your face?”

He’s silent for a moment, looking down at the bar as he folds his arms and leans against it. You faintly hear him sigh before he shrugs his shoulders. “No need to show it.”

“Gotta be hard to drink with a mask, no?”

“Not if you lift it up.”

“Or you could just…take it off.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“‘Cause then I’d get to see what you look like.”

His eyes—you make a mental note of the deep brown color they are—narrow at that. “Oh, I dunno if you want that.”

“I think I do.”

The stool beneath him creaks with his weight as he sits up, straightening his back and reminding you just how tall he is. His chest expands against his hoodie in another deep breath. “Determined, aren’t you?”

Another smile creeps its way onto your face. “C’mon, I’m curious.” You want to lean in, to tease him with your proximity, but you withhold yourself.

Those blond eyebrows that peek out from the rim of his balaclava raise slightly. His eyes move over you in a movement he doesn’t seem to bother being subtle about. Though the gesture makes your heart skip a beat, his silence is deafening.

“Alright, alright,” you concede, hands up in defeat. “I get it. No face.” He makes an affirmative sound at that.

“Smart girl.” He says it so fast, a one-off comment that told you to not bother pressing him for any more information, but something about it makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You have to look down at your drink when you feel your cheeks grow warm. Even though it was nearly gone, you certainly didn’t have enough liquid courage to flirt openly. You wanted to ask his name, to ask where he’s from—what if he lived close by?—but if he wasn’t even willing to show you his face at the bar, you knew the chances were slim. 

From the corner of your eye, you see him shift in his seat again. He digs in his pocket, pulls out his phone, and barely looks at it before he starts to stand. Was he leaving already? Why?

“Where you goin’?” You ask before you can really think about why you cared so much.

“M’needed elsewhere.” 

Blunt, simple, and vague. That seemed to be how he operated. 

“Oh, a popular guy, are you?”

“You could say that.” Your eyes follow him as he moves, but he doesn’t look your way when he stands. Christ, he was a big lad. 

“You didn’t even touch your drink.”

“It’s not mine.” He moves the full glass down the bar until it clinks against your own. It’s then you notice it’s the same color as your drink. Same glass, same serving. Did he really buy you a drink?

“Have a nice night.” You look back at him to see his eyes meeting yours. Maybe it was the last drink still swimming in your system, but you weren’t able to form the words to respond. “Get home safe, yeah?”

And with a nod of your head, he weaved his way through the room until he was out of your line of sight. Despite his size, he was easy to lose in the crowd. You turn back to the bartop and stare at the two glasses. The one on the left—the one he’d bought for you—was invitingly full.

You reach out, fingertips skimming the rim before you bring the glass to your lips. It was the same drink you always ordered when you went out—your favorite. Only somehow it tastes sweeter on your tongue this time.

You’ve never made it a habit to go out and drink. As stressful as life could get, it just wasn’t an outlet you ever turned towards. It was expensive as hell, and you weren’t stupid enough to ignore how much it sucked to be hungover. 

But despite that, you found yourself back in that same barstool when the weekend came around. And for the first time, it wasn’t because of the overpriced liquor.

Only a few sips into your first drink of the night and you were already looking around in hopes that you’d find a skull-patterned mask looking back at you. Desperately you tried to tune out the chatter of people around you, hoping you’d be able to pick out his voice. Maybe it was stupid. It was definitely wishful thinking. 

For all you knew, he wasn’t even in town anymore; you figured he probably wasn’t the type of guy to stick around one place for very long. And, hell, he left so abruptly last time, who’s to say he’d even want to see you again? You hated the tightness that built in your chest at the thought of that. 

Well, you might as well enjoy your drink since you’re here. You tried to pay attention to whatever sport was on the television this time, tried scrolling on your phone, but nothing held your attention. Every sip of your drink tempted you to house the entire bar. But you didn’t figure yourself that pathetic. Still, you were pathetic enough to keep looking over at the entrance, hoping you’d see that tall figure slinking through groups of people.

But you never do.

Fuck. It was stupid to hope anyway. You curse yourself under your breath, rubbing at your temples like it’ll help clear your head. With a huff and a sigh, you finish the last of your drink. It doesn’t taste as sweet as it did last time. You’re more disappointed than you wanted to allow yourself to be.

You decided rather quickly that you’d rather mope and feel sorry for yourself in the comfort of your own home. It wasn’t worth wasting money on another lonely drink.

There’s a chill breeze outside that cuts through you, making you shiver as soon as you walk out the door. You cross your arms, trying to preserve some body heat, as you make your way down the pavement. A still-lingering part of you doesn’t want to leave but your legs don’t stop carrying you further away.

You eventually come to a stop, leaning against a light post as you dig out your phone. Even though you’re supposed to be looking up the rideshare to get you back home, you can’t help but look around last time. You think yourself too desperate for your own good until you see a tall figure just a few steps away.

Standing next to a motorcycle that you can only assume is his, the hooded figure drops a cigarette to the ground, his boot grinding against the pavement to stomp it out. You thought it might be too good to be true, but then he turns just enough for you to see him pull that skull-patterned balaclava back over his mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice you—a fact you quickly want to remedy.

“Hey, big guy,” you call out to him, the nickname a subconscious one you immediately cringe at yourself for. Fucking ‘big guy’? Yeah, that’s not gonna go over well.

But it certainly gets his attention. His head turns in your direction, if only barely. He does a double-take before stopping in his tracks and staring back at you. You have to hope and pray that he doesn’t think you’re crazy as you walk over to him. Luckily, he didn’t move away from your advances. Instead, he turns towards you as if to welcome your approach, dark eyes raking over you in that same conspicuous motion.

It’s when you’re face-to-face with him—well, more like mask-to-face—that you realize you didn’t quite know what to say. You were too sober to be making a fool of yourself like this. After an awkward beat of silence of you taking in once more just how tall he was compared to you, you finally manage to conjure up something.

“I just wanted to say…thank you for buying me a drink the other night. I…I appreciated that.”

“Course.” You’d almost forgotten the gruff sound of his baritone voice. “You leavin’ already?”

You hesitate for a moment, a lie stewing on the tip of your tongue. No, no, I was just hanging out in the cold, what a coincidence, right? How much you wanted to spend time with a man you barely knew was almost pathetic. You resign the thought with a sigh. “Sorry, you’re too late. I already had all my fun.”

“What, waitin’ f’me?” 

You didn’t know if he was just confident or if he somehow truly knew that was what you were doing. Either way, it made you feel like he could see right through you, like he knew you found him interesting. “Maybe I was hopin’ you’d come by.” You bite your lip, gaze hitting the ground before looking back up at him. “You were the most entertaining thing at that bar.”

He takes in a deep breath at that. “M’sorry I missed it.” Yeah, me too. “Can you get yourself home?”

“Yeah. Well, a rideshare can.”

“How ‘bout I take you home?”

The suggestion makes your heart skip a beat, staring up at him, frozen and probably looking half-crazed. The rational part of your brain was sounding every possible alarm. Why would you ever trust a man you met in a bar who never takes off his mask to take you home unless you had a death wish? And yet the winning part of your brain was the one that was extremely curious about his implication.

“Ah, take a bloke I barely know back home? How drunk d’you think I am?”

He looks over you again in a beat of silence. “You aren’t. That’s why I’m askin’.” Knowing he didn’t want to take advantage of you eased some of the lingering anxiety in the back of your mind. But, as if he could sense that anxiety, he continued, “You don’t gotta let me in, I jus’ wanna make sure you’re safe. I’m cheaper than a rideshare, anyway.”

“Well, can’t beat that, I suppose.” You move around him to approach his parked motorcycle. You didn’t have to know much about bikes to realize it was a nice one. Sleek, but not flashy. Your fingers glide over the leather of the seat as you eye the streetlights reflecting off of the shiny black body. “I’ve never been on a bike. People say they’re dangerous.”

“They can be, if you don’t know what you’re doin’.” You hadn’t noticed how close he was—moving as silent as ever—hovering just behind you as he grabs the helmet strapped securely to the bike. Holding it out towards you, he gives you a nudge. “Here.”

You take the helmet, holding it carefully like you’re afraid to leave your fingerprints all over it. You could already tell it’d be too big, but the consideration was nice. “I trust you know what you’re doin’, then?”

“Most of the time.”

Well, wasn’t he quite the comedian.

You slot the helmet over your head with a roll of your eyes. As you guessed, it was certainly too big, tilting forward over your brow and obscuring your view. A bitterly sweet smell floods your senses as you clasp it in place; you can only assume it’s his sweat, mixed with a faint air of tobacco, embedded into the foam lining.

A heavy hand rests on the side of the helmet, holding it steady while he slides the visor up. His head tilts as those dark eyes of his greet you. “Bit big on you, innit?”

“Yeah, just a li’l.”

“How far we goin’?” You should have been a little hesitant before telling him your address, but you don’t even stutter. He spoke like he had to know, like ordering people around was what he did for a living. An affirmative hum comes from behind his mask as he slides the visor back down. “You’ll be alright.”

You struggle to balance both yourself and the helmet long enough to swing your leg over the seat. You were thankful that the helmet obscured your face to shield some of the embarrassment, at least. Then you feel that same heavy palm on the small of your back, trying to keep you steady, only to make your body tense up. The helmet swings lazily on your head as you finally straddle the seat.

Once you’re situated, after asking if you’re comfortable, he slides his hand off of you. He has no problem getting himself sat, taking up the front half of the seat as he slots in the space before you. He turns his head and, though you have to lift your head awkwardly to see him through the visor, you hear his voice say, “Hold on tight. Can’t have you fallin’ off.”

What, did he plan on speeding out of here? Hesitantly, your hands find purchase on his waist. It was gentle, barely enough pressure to feel his hoodie under your fingertips, let alone his body underneath.

You think you hear him scoff. “I’m sure you’re stronger than that.” His fingers wrap around your wrists, guiding your hands forward until they rest on his chest. The movement shortens the gap of space between your bodies as your arms hover awkwardly around him. “I promise you won’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re afraid of. C’mon, tighter than that.” You strengthen your hold, closing the distance between your chest and his back, practically hugging him. “Atta girl.”

Your face heats up at that, and you were thankful the helmet obscured the sheepish smile that had painted itself on your face. 

The engine suddenly roars to life, loud enough to surprise you. The power behind it vibrates through the leather seat and seeps easily through the padding of the helmet. Though his takeoff was as smooth as it could’ve been, it didn’t stop you from tightening your hold around his body. 

The cityscape passes by in a blur of vibrant lights and towering buildings. The hum of the motorcycle’s engine overpowers the surrounding cars, echoing off of the asphalt and thrumming a rhythmic hum during the ride. The already-cool night air bites at your skin as it whips past. 

Though you have no reason to, you find yourself gripping him tighter on every take-off after a stop. And despite the chill on your skin, you felt the heat rise to your face as you realized you could feel how rigid and tough he was under that hoodie. 

There was a thrill, you realized, that ran through you and made your heart race. Not only because you were on a bike for the first time, but because of how close you were to the man in front of you. Holding on tight to a stranger whose name you didn’t know so he could bring you home safely sounded like something out of a novel. The smell of him embedded in his helmet and filling your senses, your body close to absorb some of his heat, the pure generosity of even offering to drive you home: everything made you want to abandon all self-respect and invite him in when you arrived.

The internal battle you fought over that distracted you for the rest of the ride.

You could barely see out of the helmet without cocking your head awkwardly, but you could tell when the trip was nearing its end. A pit formed in your stomach—a part of you unwilling to let the ride end just yet. It wasn’t until he slowed down enough to pick out your building that you realized how difficult it was to see over his broad shoulders. With a point and a nudge in the right direction, you guided him to your stop.

He pulls the bike up to the pavement before parking it. The sounds of the neighborhood replace the monotonous hum of the engine as he turns it off. Your movements are hesitant as your hands slide off his body, something you quickly regret and hope he hadn’t noticed. He helps you off the bike just as he had helped you on, reminding you of his gentle touch, thankful yet again for the helmet obscuring your shy smile.

You don’t ignore the sense of disappointment you feel knowing that he has to leave. Just taking off the helmet was enough to make you miss him and ache for something more, even when he stood right by you on the pavement. You knew it was strange to feel close to a man you barely knew, but he gave you more comfort than most. He made you feel intrigued in a way no one else did. 

“So,” you start, dreading the awkward silence, “do I get to know the name of my chauffeur?”

He pauses for a moment of consideration. Your heart beats faster, something akin to excitement making you hope for an answer. Finally, he looks up from the pavement. “Maybe next time.”

Initially, you felt more disappointed than you wanted to allow yourself to be. Surely his name was the one thing he could give up? But then you find yourself clinging on to that phrase. Maybe next time…Did he expect a ‘next time’? Should you expect a ‘next time’?

As you walked up to your door, he didn’t follow, staying true to his words from earlier. He kept a respectable distance to not crowd you, as if he didn’t want to make you nervous. If only he knew everything about him made you overthink your every move.

There’s a beat of silence when you grab your keys. An invite inside sits on the tip of your tongue, fighting with the rational part of your brain, consequences be damned. But his voice beats you to the punch as he breaks another long and empty silence.

“So d’you go and drink every Saturday?”

Your fingers toy with the keys in your hand as you debate your answer. “No, I don’t,” you admit after a beat of silence.

He hums a deep sound that you can’t quite identify the emotion behind. “So just a coincidence, then?”

You don’t respond to that. Instead, while fighting your sheepish smile, you look back at him. 

“Thanks for takin’ me home.”

“‘Course.”

“Maybe next time you should drink with me.”

Your heart pounds in your chest when the words leave your mouth. Eagerness didn’t seem like such a shameful thing anymore. Not when you were sharing body heat with him just a few minutes ago. Not when he knew where you lived because he cared enough to make sure you were safe. Maybe it was too hopeful to expect him to want to see you again, but when your eyes meet his under the streetlight, you’re confident the hope isn’t unfounded.

His eyes rake over you in a slow one-over as he nods. His voice is low in that same charming gruff timbre when he responds, “I’ll see you next Saturday, then?”

Fighting off an over-excited smile proves to be the most difficult thing you’ve done in a while. You sigh, calming your racing heart. “If you’re on time.”

“It’s a date.”

It wasn’t actually a date.

Surely he couldn’t have meant it literally. Still, it was enough to have you barely managing a flustered goodbye before fumbling with your keys at the door. Even after you were in the comfort of your home your face felt hot, your body practically vibrating from adrenaline. All from a stranger. The faint sound of the revving engine of his motorcycle moments later only served to remind you of his voice, the warmth of his body, and—hopefully—the promise in his words. 

You had to remind yourself constantly, every time your mind wandered throughout the week, that you were hoping for too much. You were daydreaming about a face you hadn’t seen yet from a man whose name you didn’t even know. And, God, that made you feel more pathetic than ever.

It was just a night out, spending time together over a drink, nothing more. Maybe you could learn his name if he was feeling generous enough. But to hope for anything more—a follow-up or anything deeper than friendliness—was foolish. Still, your mind kept wandering back to his words. It’s a date. 

No, this wasn’t a date, you scold yourself in the mirror, shaking your head as if it’ll dismiss the thought faster. That was just a throwaway line, something to draw you in to make sure he’d see you tonight. Nothing more, nothing implied, nothing to hope for. You knew that by now, practically drilled it into your own head. 

So why did you spend way too long looking at yourself in the mirror, obsessing over every little detail you could nitpick? Why did you drudge through your entire closet to make sure you picked the “right outfit”? Why did you stress about what perfume to wear and what drink to order? It wasn’t a date after all. 

Right?

It was too late to fight yourself on it once your rideshare pulled up. The implication of his words was irrelevant at this point; your heart seems to beat quicker with every turn of the wheels that brings you closer to the bar. Despite the cool air making you regret choosing to wear a skirt, you felt hot and stuffy—just downright nervous. Christ, you nearly felt like you could throw up when you saw a familiar tall silhouette outside the bar. 

He was on time. And he was waiting for you.

Every insecurity you nitpicked before comes to the front of your mind the moment you step onto the pavement. You force the thoughts away with a sigh and, for the first time in your life, your steps towards the bar are hesitant. His eyes meet yours as you approach and you almost wish you could see his reaction under that mask. But the more you thought about it, maybe you were better off not knowing.

He straightens up, pushing himself off of the wall, looking down at you with a face obscured by shadows and fabric. “I was startin’ to think I came too early.”

It was a huge relief to see him here, waiting and willing to see you again. You couldn’t hide your smile if you tried. “Well, lucky for you, I like an eager man.”

His steps are confident as he makes his way towards the entrance. “That’s definitely one way to describe me.” You barely hear the sentence when he utters it, which only makes your heart beat faster. He pulls the door open, holding it for you to make your way in. 

The bar is as crowded as it is every Saturday. Plenty of people scattered around, watching whatever team was on the television this weekend, drunkenly shouting overtop of the music. It never fails to overwhelm you when you walk through the entrance. A hand rests on your back, grounding you and making you all too aware of your posture, slipping to your waist before guiding you through the bustle of people.

Your date—it still felt weird to call him that—guides you towards the bar, towards the backend where fewer people crowded the space. His presence was comforting despite his silence. Not to mention how perfectly his hand slotted against your waist, a thought that had you too nervous to bring attention to his sudden touchiness.

The stools squeak and groan as the two of you settle into your seats. The bar is anything but quiet, yet an awkward silence hangs in the air between you. Something told you he wasn’t the type to care about the awkwardness, but you were far too sober to not overthink every thought that popped into your head.

You clear your throat, hoping it’ll boost your confidence to speak. “I wasn’t actually sure you’d show,” you admit. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You weren’t sure how to respond. He raised a good point, one that spit in the face of your insecurities and anxiety. “I dunno…guess I worried I wasn’t exciting enough for you.”

“Well, you’re no mask-wearin’ bike rider.” He leans in your direction and nudges you with his elbow. “But I think you’re plenty excitin’.” You look up at his eyes just fast enough to catch his wink.

Flustered, you avert your eyes to the bartop as you laugh. “You don’t know me well enough, clearly.”

“I’d like to. That’s why I’m here.”

That brings your eyes back to his. You may not have been able to see his face, but those eyes told you everything about his sincerity. There shouldn’t have been any doubt left in your mind after that. The man admitted to having an interest in you—in getting to know you—and it surely set your heart on fire. 

“Well, that and to drink, I’m sure.” Your smile is an attempt to distract from the way you stare at him. It was like you had yourself convinced you could make out his features if you just studied him long enough. 

“Ah, that’s just a bonus.” He gestures for the bartender with a simple wave of his hand before fishing in his pocket for his wallet. 

“So what’s the drink of choice for a bloke like you?”

“Bourbon.”

You aren’t sure why that admission surprises you; of course a big guy like him would drink whiskey. Something about that fact makes you feel warm inside. You request one for yourself, an excuse to have something in common with him. 

Your eyes follow the bartender as they move, but your mind is far from the alcohol. Everything was going well—probably the best it could’ve gone meeting someone who could still classify as a stranger for the third time. But there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind, festering insecurity and uncertainty.

“Can I ask you something?” You almost surprise yourself with the lack of hesitance with which the question leaves your mouth.

“Shoot.”

“That night we met, when we spoke for the first time, you left awfully quick.” Your fingers tap against the bartop in an anxious rhythm. “What was that about?”

From the corner of your eye, you see him shrug. “Wasn’t my choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was work. It asks a lot of me sometimes.” Work calling at such a late hour was hard to believe, but the way he said it—a layer of exhaustion sullying his words—had you convinced. “Trust me, I would’ve preferred staying to talk to you.”

You believed that, too. 

“What do you do for work?”

He pauses, taking in a deep breath, like he’s thinking about how to phrase his response. You’ve started to learn how deliberate he was with his words. “A lot of dangerous shit.”

That definitely piques your attention. You hear the two glasses clink against the bartop, but you were more concerned with him than the alcohol. “Yeah? What kind of shit is that?” You didn’t have a lot of hope that he’d open up any more than that, but the curiosity ate at you. 

He reaches for one of the glasses, sighing as he moves. “The kind of shit that makes you want to drink to forget it.” He lifts the glass in your direction. “So let’s drink, yeah?”

Even if he didn’t completely open up, it was a sentiment you could sympathize with. You may not know exactly what he spent his time doing but you knew enough to hope he saw your company as comforting. You reach for the other glass and lift it until it clinks against his own. “Just don’t drink enough to forget me.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be forgettin’ you anytime soon.”

You smile at his sentiment, taking a sip of whiskey to wash away the anxiety-borne tension in your throat.

It’s done in a split second before you notice it, but he lifts the bottom of his balaclava over his mouth, resting the hem on his nose. It gives you a view of the blond scruff that dusts the sharp angle of his jaw, of those peach lips that look surprisingly soft as he raises his glass to take a drink. The way his mask sits makes you aware of the crook in the bridge of his nose—a sign of cartilage broken multiple times over. He’s rugged and rough underneath the soft cloth, far more attractive than anything you could’ve conjured up in your own mind. And that was without seeing his entire face. They were features that any other man could have, but he hid those features from the world for reasons you couldn’t fathom. Maybe that was what made him so alluring.

“You’re starin’.”

It takes a moment for his words to register in your head. You only realized he was speaking because you could actually see his mouth move. You scoff, brows furrowing as you finally blink for the first time in a while. “I wasn’t starin’.”

He grunts in response. You didn’t have to hear him speak to know he doesn’t believe you. Hell, you didn’t believe yourself. You roll your eyes at the sound, taking a sip of your drink and averting his intense gaze by catching a glimpse of the television behind the bar. You didn’t care one bit about the scores on the screen.

Especially when you suddenly felt the warmth of his hand on your thigh. There was no way he didn’t notice the way your muscles tense, flinching at the sudden contact. It’s indescribable the way it makes you feel. His rough and calloused touch barely underneath the hem of your skirt to feel the smooth and tender flesh of your thigh sends a jolt down your spine, a heat coursing through you that you haven’t felt in a while.

“You’re a terrible liar.” It isn’t lost on you the way his voice deepens when he whispers to you, leaning in close and quiet so he can make sure you hear him.

Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your face hot and your heart racing. “Piss off. The…bourbon’s just strong.” You force the words out in a half-hearted tumble as you bring the glass to your lips. 

His grip tightens ever-so-slightly, gently squeezing your thigh. Something about it tells you he doesn’t buy that lie either. “Ah, s’that what it is?” 

The sarcasm in his voice makes the whiskey burn as it slides down your throat. You take in a breath to try and combat the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. Squirming in the stool, you press your thighs together to quell some of the heat pulsing through your veins. Nerves and excitement battle for control over your body. 

“I didn’t take you for a touchy lad.” Your own voice quietens to a whisper, almost too nervous to acknowledge his bold move.

“Usually m’not.”

Setting your glass down, you’re almost disappointed to find the mask is settled back over his face when you finally make eye contact again. “Mm. You must like me, then?”

The question wasn’t really meant to have an answer, but he didn’t hesitate to give you one. “Was that not obvious before?”

“The confirmation is nice.” You force the words out before you can think too hard about his reply. 

He liked you. One of the most enigmatic, confusing, intriguing people you’ve ever met—who should’ve made you feel scared—actually liked you. It was relieving and exciting and terrifying all at once.

You look down to see his hand on your thigh. The sight is enough to turn excitement into something much stronger that pools in your core. You run your fingertips over his knuckles, the discolored skin telling you they’ve been wounded multiple times over. You didn’t have the guts to ask. The contact makes his grip tighten slightly, his thumb slowly brushing gentle strokes against your skin.

The whole thing had your mind running wild. You certainly didn’t have enough to drink to excuse the images that flashed in your mind. But seeing his hand on you—feeling his touch—in a way you could only describe as intimate had desire pumping through you. You don’t know how good a job you’re doing at hiding it, either, but you’re certain he can feel when you squeeze your thighs tightly together.

“So,” you start, clearing your throat as if to excuse the rampant thoughts in your head, “do I get to know your name yet?”

You look over to see his eyes lingering absentmindedly on the television. “Depends on how this night goes.”

Well, it wasn’t a ‘no’.

You scoff, feigning annoyance. “What, y’gonna wait until I’m too drunk to remember it?” Your hand moves to your glass, raising it in his direction before taking a sip.

“Oh, I’m not gonna let you get drunk.” He says it so matter-of-factly that you couldn’t argue if you wanted to. Then, his hand moves carefully, readjusting his grip until the plush fat on the inside of your thigh is squished between his fingers. “Can’t have any fun if you get yourself plastered.”

At least now you knew you had no chance of embarrassing yourself in a drunken stupor. But your mind was far more preoccupied with that word—fun. Sure, he could have meant it literally; maybe he planned on taking you somewhere more exciting than a cheap bar after this. You silently scolded yourself for being disappointed with that reality. 

“I suppose you’re right…” The words came out breathlessly into your glass. You didn’t know if he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. He seemed like the type of man to be dead set on whatever he was determined to do. You just hoped the ‘fun’ he had in mind was the same type that had your heart pounding whenever you thought about it.

His hand slides off you and—God help you—you almost whimper at the loss of contact. Your eyes follow his movement, watching him slide his mask up enough to take another drink. You didn’t think you could ever forget what he looked like. It was a sight you swore you could spend the whole night staring at, but you looked away before he had the chance to tease you about it.

“Y’know,” he says with a voice quiet enough that only you could hear, “if you need somethin’, you can just ask.”

Your eyes dart over to him with an unconscious, wide-eyed look of guilt and confusion. There was no doubt in your mind that you needed something from him, but you hadn’t intended that to be obvious. A bewildered “what?” is all you manage to force out while you try to convince your rapid heart to slow.

“If you need somethin’ from me, you can just ask me for it.” He speaks slowly this time, looking in your direction with brown eyes so dark it was like his pupils had blown wide. Fuck, did you look like that too? He sets his glass down with a sigh when you don’t respond with anything more than a confused scoff. He leans in close, so close you could feel his breath on your ear and a whiff of tobacco and musk in your nostrils. “You were practically humpin’ my hand.” You swear he growls the words. “That makes me think you need somethin’.”

That immediately shot down any hope you had that you were doing great at hiding your wandering thoughts. Excuse after excuse ran through your mind, trying to justify why his touch made you squirm. But…was there really any point in denying something he so clearly had picked up on? He read you like a goddamn book—not that you were difficult to read—and something about that only made the desire heavier. And, most importantly in your mind, there was no sign that he disliked it.

Your lips quiver as they part, hesitation making your mouth run dry. “Maybe…maybe I do need somethin’...” It feels like your heart has jumped in your throat. But it wasn’t nerves that made your skin run hot. “Are you…offerin’ me somethin’?”

He straightens in his seat and pulls the balaclava back over the lower half of his face. From the corner of your eye, you watch him tap his fingers against his glass. Just before you think he’s going to end the conversation there, you hear the rumble of his voice from behind the skull-patterned fabric. “There’s a storage room in the back hall, last door on the right. Hardly anyone goes back there.” His tone is almost conspiratorial. “If we go one at a time, less chance of being noticed. We could have some privacy there.” There’s a pause before he looks in your direction, not bothering to be subtle when his eyes move over you. “That’s what I’m offerin’.”

Holy shit.

There was no reason to think he was joking, but you still couldn’t believe it. You also couldn’t believe that you were so desperate that turning him down didn’t even cross your mind. “You’re serious? Here? In the bar?”

He shrugs like the thought is obvious. “Well, you said it yourself: can’t take a bloke you barely know back home.” He leans in again, eyes boring through you. “I promise I’m worth all the hassle.”

Somehow, you didn’t doubt him one bit. You play off the disbelief and hesitation with a scoff, shaking your head. “Yeah, you better be.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a moment. You wish you could hear his thoughts or see his face, get some inkling of an idea of what was running through his mind. 

Then he sits up straight, cocking his head in the direction of the back hallway. “Go on, then.”

Truthfully, his impatience had you relieved; at least now you wouldn’t have to be the one to initiate. But that didn’t mean you wanted to be the first to get caught sneaking around the back of the building. “Why am I goin’ first?”

“So I can make sure no one follows.”

“Is that your specialty?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You weren’t sure how to feel about that confession. Just how much sneaking around was a guy like him doing? “Go on.”

You’d marinate the thought later. With a sigh, you slide off of the barstool. Looking at him you find his eyes on the television screen once more. With no reassuring glance or even a flirtatious wink, you set your sights on the hallway in the back of the bar.

You’re relieved to find that no one was waiting in a line outside the bathrooms. At least that would make the sneaking around part a lot easier. You felt ridiculous, like a teenager trying to avoid their parents when they snuck out. But the promise of what could’ve been awaiting you was enough to will you to walk down the dim hallway.

There was a door towards the end of the hall, on the right side, just past the bathrooms. Just like he had said. You didn’t have time to wonder how he knew it was here, or how he knew it was a storage room. But sure enough, after slinking past the bathrooms and quickly pushing the door open, you were greeted with a room full of boxes, cleaning supplies, and old furniture. The smell of mildew made your nose crinkle as you stepped further inside.

It was then you realized he didn’t tell you how long to wait. Your thoughts spiraled from there; What if he flakes? What if an employee comes back here? Each second felt like an hour, your anxiety mounting with every moment you were alone in the stuffy room. You move to an old table shoved in the back corner. A thin layer of dust coats your finger when you run it along the trim.

Your heart jumps when you hear the door click. You were prepared to play the part of a drunken fool looking for the bathroom in case it was an employee, but you’re relieved to see the large figure you’d come to recognize slink through.

“Hey,” you call out to him, casually greeting him like you hadn’t snuck in here under the implications of sex.

His steps are slow as he moves towards you. “Hey.” That gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. The room feels smaller with every step he takes in your direction.

“So,” you sigh, “do you take all your dates to storage rooms?”

“Only the lucky ones.”

He stops just in front of you, closer than he’s ever stood before, making your breath catch in your throat as you look up at him. “Suppose I should feel lucky, then.” You don’t mean to sound breathless, but you weren’t too concerned with appearing composed.

“I’d hope so.”

“I will if you take off that mask.”

You think you hear something resembling a laugh from beneath that skull-patterned fabric. He tugs at the mask and, for a moment, you think he’s actually going to remove it. But the hem only moves to the bridge of his nose, taunting you by not revealing any part of himself he hadn’t already. You must look expectant, or disappointed, because he gives you an incredulous look in return. 

“What? You seemed plenty happy with this earlier,” he gestures towards the lower half of his face, earning an eye roll from you. He scoffs, leaning in and tilting his head to follow your gaze. “If I remember, you couldn’t stop starin’ at me.”

“Fuck off. I liked what I saw.” His teasing made your cheeks feel hot. That same heat thumps in your veins when your eyes meet his again. “...Still do.”

You barely feel the warmth of his fingertips as they graze your skin, tracing your jaw. He was gentle, exploratory, like he was waiting for your approval. When all he got from you was a sharp intake of breath, his thumb ran gently over your bottom lip. 

“So do I.”

You’d chastise yourself for leaning in if you were any more self-conscious. You’d blame the eagerness on the alcohol, or the way he seemed to pull you closer with his hand, but there was no denying the want stirring in the pit of your stomach. Nothing else mattered except making your lips meet. And when they do, all you find is gentle hesitance and the taste of whiskey. 

It was soft and careful, yet completely consuming. His lips were as soft as they looked and moved perfectly against your own. You couldn’t stop yourself from sighing into his mouth and inching your body closer, bringing your hand to his chest and feeling the soft fabric of his hoodie go taut as you curl your fingers into a fist. Afraid he’d move away if you didn’t, you kept your grasp firm and pulled him closer. 

He was the one to close the gap between your bodies. It was like he was waiting for that confirmation that you wanted this. His hands move to your waist as his groan vibrates against your lips. Gentle kisses slowly turn more desperate as both of you breathe heavily. The taste of cigarettes and alcohol is sickeningly sweet on your tongue.

Strong hands move down your body and over your hips. You half expected him to grope you and leave it at that. And while you would’ve been fine with it, you’re surprised when you feel his hands move down to your thighs to lift you off the ground. The sudden movement makes you yelp and gasp into his mouth, fingers clawing at his hoodie to keep you balanced while he haphazardly sets you on the edge of the dusty, wobbling table. 

It’s brash and hurried but it’s exciting. The type of exciting that makes you forget about the dust on the tabletop and the possibility someone could walk in. Nothing else mattered when his mouth was on you, trailing over your jaw with hot and wet kisses that took your breath away. 

“You’ll tell me if I’m too much, yeah?” The rough sound of his voice surprises you, grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations. 

You nod, running your hands over his shoulders to try and feel the rigidity under his clothes. “Y-yeah, course.”

“Good girl.”

A small kiss is planted on your neck before he pulls back enough to look you over. As your hands fall from his shoulders, he hastily rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie. Not only does the sight of sinewy muscle hidden underneath make your blood pound in your veins, but the intricate sleeve of tattoos on his left arm catches your attention. In any other scenario you’d ask him question after question about each line and symbol. But right now his hands are running up your thighs and under your skirt, the muscles in his arms flexing as he kneads the fat between his fingers. 

The way he groans at your softness makes you throb. He nudges your legs further apart—a movement you would have done on your own volition—and pushes your skirt up as he moves to hold your hips. You lean back on your hands and watch mesmerized as his eyes lock onto the sight between your legs. 

“Pretty pair,” he mutters as his thumbs rub circles against your hips. It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about your panties. “Makes me think you were hopin’ I’d see ‘em.”

Seems like it paid off to overthink every part of your outfit. “Maybe I was.”

“Yeah? Hopin’ I’d see how soppin’ wet they are?” His thumb moves inwards, running over your slit through the wet fabric. The fabric clings to your sensitive skin, proving his point, as does the way you whimper and buck your hips.

“Yeah, that too.”

His fingers hook into the strip of fabric covering your cunt, pulling the garment to the side with a forceful tug. And you swear, even in the dim light, his pupils dilate at the sight. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Two fingers drag through your slit, through that slick that told him just how much you wanted him. His fingertips are rough but his touch is gentle. You gasp when he finds your clit and toys with the swollen bud by circling it teasingly. His lips find yours again with bruising kisses that swallow your sounds as you pant into his mouth. His fingers spread you open, gliding over your cunt and teasing every inch, gathering your slick as he circles your entrance.

Even though he moves slowly, the stretch of his thick fingers is certainly more than you were expecting. You whine as they curl and pump in and out in a rhythm that makes your cunt flutter and squelch with each push. Your head falls back with a moan when he hits something deep inside that sends shockwaves through you. 

His mouth moves down to your now-exposed neck, marking your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” his voice vibrates against you. “This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

You hum a broken “mm-hmm”, unable to focus long enough to form a proper response. But it’s that confirmation that has him moving faster and harder until your hips are jerking forward to meet his movements. 

“Yeah, y’couldn’t sit still ‘cause you were achin’ for it.” His free hand cups your face, gently squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark with desire and something desperate that bores into you. “Just needed your pretty pussy fucked, huh?”

Your cunt flutters around his fingers at the praise, heat building in the pit of the stomach. Your pants turn into a moan as your breath catches in your throat. “Yes, I need it. I need it so fucking bad.”

His hand picks up speed as he coos a soft “I know, baby,” against your lips. His fingers curl and push just right, hitting every soft spot that makes your toes curl and your cunt tighten. One of your hands flies to his chest to claw at his hoodie as your body begins to tremble.

“Fuck,” you groan, barely able to get the words out, “d-don’t stop…”

“I won’t, love. Not ‘til you cum for me.”

For him. He wanted to see you fall apart under his touch and cling to him like he was the only thing in the world. You’ll care more about the sweetness of the thought when you aren’t stuffed full and moaning in the back of a bar. 

Whether it’s that thought or his touch or the heady mix of both, it’s not long before the muscles in your thighs go taut. Your breathing turns heavier as your moans and whines grow louder on each exhale. If it wasn’t for your subconscious fear of being caught and his need to feel your lips against his own you’re sure you would’ve screamed until the sound echoed off the walls. 

But even if your sounds were restrained, the sensations surely weren’t. That heat stirring in your core spilled over and your cunt clenched around his fingers until all you could hear was soft squelching as he pushed your slick cum back inside. Your thighs trembled and your chest heaved with the effort to catch your breath. It wasn’t until you could see straight against that you noticed the sweat along your brow and the ache in your back.

His fingers slid out, their girth just enough to leave you feeling loose. Before he could even take his hand off of you, his mouth was latching onto your neck for another set of rough and wet kisses.

“Turn around,” you barely hear his gruff instruction over the sound of your own breaths, “bend over.”

Still, you aren’t one to disappoint. You land on shaky legs after sliding off the table, using his sturdy form to balance yourself as you turn around. Your forearms rest against the table as you bend over the wobbling piece of furniture. 

You feel your skirt flip up, the fabric resting along your waist, before his large palms run over the swell of your ass. They’re warm and heavy and you can feel each callous as he kneads the fat in his grasp. He’s not rough, but it’s like he wants to savor the softness he finds.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” That was enough to make you twitch, but then he runs a finger over the cum-slick fabric of your panties. “Think you can do it again for me?”

You barely muster a nod and an “mm-hmm” before his fingers hook into your panties and pull them down to your knees. His impatience was only riling you up, especially when you felt him spread you apart and groan at the sight. 

“Christ, look at you…” you hear him mutter, the sound accompanied by the jangle of a belt buckle coming undone. 

You could practically feel his stare boring into you, branding your skin with his gaze. You think you hear him spit before a hand rests on your ass to knead your skin again. That hand moves to your hip, holding you firmly in place while the head of his cock glides along your slit and stops at your entrance. He isn’t even attempting to push in and it already has you whimpering. You can feel it—thick and warm and heavy—waiting to split you open. 

“Breathe for me, baby. Just relax.” His voice is soothing, deep and soaked in desire, and it makes your body obey without thought. 

A few deep breaths later and your mouth is falling open in a loud gasp as he pushes in. He moves slow, pausing every time you whine to mutter soft encouragement through clenched teeth. And while his voice was soothing, it didn’t exactly ease the stretch that had your cunt pulsing around him. Nothing had made you feel so full before.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the way he groans when he’s fully seated inside you. Both of his hands hold your hips tight as he mutters a curse under his breath. Slowly, he starts to move, pulling back only to push in deep. You swear he hits deeper every time, every push forcing the air out of your lungs in a desperate moan. 

“That’s it, you can take it.” His voice was somewhere between gruff and breathless, tense beneath clenched teeth and restrained moans. Your back arches and your hips push back to meet his movements halfway to encourage him to speed up his steady rhythm. “Oh, good fucking girl.”

All you can manage is broken strings of curses and moans. Between his constant praise and the fullness of his cock, you couldn’t think straight long enough to focus on anything except the pleasure shooting through your veins. If your nails were any sharper, you might’ve left claw marks on the table beneath you as you held on.

“Fuck me. H-Harder.” You knew you were being greedy, aching for more every time you accustomed to his pace. But you were still so sensitive from your recent climax; you knew it wouldn’t take much more to hit that high again, especially when his cock kissed that spot deep inside that made your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, you need it harder, baby?” He put up no argument as he moved his hands to your waist for a better grip. He pounded into you with a force that made your legs shake, his hips meeting your ass with an obnoxiously loud sound that you couldn’t care less if anyone heard. “Goddamn, this cunt’s perfect.”

Underneath your squeals and whines are his own moans and growls, each one making you clench around him just to draw another one out of him. Knowing he was as lost in pleasure as you were filled you with pride. 

His hands move up your body, snaking under your shirt, feeling you tense and tremble underneath him. Strong palms find and grope your chest, kneading you eagerly while he bends over you. His thrusts don’t cease even as his lips find your neck.

Soft bites and hot kisses only add to the sensations wracking pleasure on your body. You almost don’t hear him when he mutters against your skin, “Simon.”

“...Huh?”

“Simon.” He repeats, moving his mouth to your ear so there’s no doubt you’ll hear him. “Say it.”

“Si—fuck…Simon…” The name comes out in a moan, something he seems to enjoy judging by the receiving growl in your ear. 

“Atta girl. Now you know what to scream when you cum for me again.”

Your panting lips curl into something resembling a smile. Simon. You were too far gone to recognize the implication of trust behind his sudden openness, but you did know how sweet his name felt in your mouth. And, evidently, it wouldn’t take long for you to mutter it incoherently as your body begins to tense.

Heat and pleasure and everything warm builds in your core with each hit of his cock. He—Simon—mirrors your heavy breaths with his own. He must feel the way you tighten; his fingers dig into your skin so tight it’d probably hurt if your mind was less hazy.

“M’gonna cum—shit, you’re gonna make me cum, Simon.” Your eyes flutter shut, all your focus narrowed to the pleasure between your legs. 

“I know, love. Cum for me, let me feel you.”

His rough and steady pace makes the build-up all the more sweet. When your climax hits, it hits hard. White-hot pleasure shoots through you, making your hips twitch and your legs shake, a breathless cry that you try (and fail) to hold back ripping through the room. Your cunt pulses around his cock, sucking him deeper while he fucks you through the high with much gentler strokes. The obscenely wet sound is accompanied by his groans on every push. 

“Fuck, y’gonna make me cum squeezin’ me like that…”

That was enough to snap you out of your haze. Perhaps a much less restrained version of yourself would’ve let him finish inside you right then and there, but you’ll entertain the thought another time. Still trembling and panting, you force yourself to sit up. “Wait, wait. Pull out, hold on,” you urge, pushing him back with your hand.

He follows your movements, his hands sliding off of your body as he leans back. The emptiness that follows as his cock slips out of you leaves you feeling gaped in the best way possible. Your body aches, sore from the rough treatment and the wobbling table underneath you, as you stumble to your knees in front of Simon. Your eyes immediately land on his cock, a dumbfounded grin you’re sure looks ridiculous painting itself on your lips.

Fuckin’ hell…that was inside you?

It was every bit as impressive as it felt. Thick and heavy and so damn hard you could practically feel it throbbing with the need to cum. No wonder he needed to prep you, and no wonder you felt so stretched regardless. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?” Simon’s voice startles you, bringing your mind back to reality.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding it to your mouth as you lean in. Licking a slow, wet stripe along the underside makes him hiss and twitch against your tongue. You could taste yourself on him, your cum mixed with his musk, and the heady combination made your head spin.

Your eyes flicker up at him, at that mask still obscuring half of his face. “Dunno if I can take all of you,” you admit as your hand glides up and down his cock. “You’re a big lad.”

Simon curses and you watch his jaw tighten as his cock twitches in your hand. “Don’t worry about it. After the way you felt around me, I’m not gonna last long anyway.”

You flash him a smile—a cheeky one that, no doubt, showed how proud that made you feel—before closing your lips around the head of his cock. His musk hits your tongue and fills your nostrils and you can’t help but groan at the taste. The rest of his cock fits in your hand, throbbing under your palm while you stroke. 

“Christ, that’s good, sweetheart.” One of his hands lands on the back of your head. He doesn’t push you down or force more into your mouth, he just rests it there, watching you through heavy eyes. “Real fuckin’ nice…”

You swallow around him, taking more of him into your mouth. His hips buck involuntarily in a movement that makes you gag when the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat. He mutters an apology that you ignore, groaning around him as your head bobs and your tongue swirls.

“Fuck, I can’t…” Simon’s other hand flies down to his cock, replacing your grip as he wraps it around the base. “M’gonna cum, baby.”

The way he growls the words makes you hum, the sound vibrating through him. You give one last firm suck as your mouth slides off of him. “Cum on my face,” you utter before you can even catch your breath.

“Y-you sure? Your makeup—”

“M’not askin’, Simon.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He can barely get the words out as he strokes himself, fisting his cock with a lewdly wet sound thanks to your spit and cum coating his sensitive flesh.

You can hear his breath grow heavy, slowly turning to moans as his body tenses. All you can focus on is his face—what parts you can see—watching his mouth as he pants and seeing his brows furrow in pleasure. You think you’d give just about anything to see him like this without that mask on.

His hand stills on his cock just before he mutters a curse and spills onto your face. His cum lands in thick, warm globs across your skin, and you’re thankful he seems to have enough awareness to avoid your eyes. He taps his cock against your lips, spreading his cum just to revel in the sight. 

Simon’s growling breaths steady out as he comes down from the high. “You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he sighs, peach lips curling into a smile.

Your tongue darts out to clean your lips, tasting the unique saltiness that painted them. “You’re not too bad yourself. Simon.”

He offers you a hand and pulls you up to your feet. His thumb brushes against your cheek, collecting some of his spend before bringing it to your mouth. You gladly accept his digit into your mouth, moaning around it as you suck it clean. With a growl and a curse, he pulls you into a rough kiss.

“Next time,” he starts, still panting as his breathing steadies, “how about we go to your place? Then we can have a proper go at it.”

Your heart skips a beat. ‘Next time’…he wanted a ‘next time’... 

“As long as you’re a gentleman and drive me there.” You pat his chest before pulling back enough to readjust your clothing. There wasn’t much you could do about the smeared makeup and tousled hair, but you weren’t the only person in the bar who looked a little worse for wear. 

“Deal.” You can hear the shuffle as he refits his own clothes. Thankfully, the mask doesn’t come back down. “You fancy another drink?”

“Uh…m’not sure, why?”

“‘Cause if you don’t, I can take you home right now if you’d like.” You meet his eyes and he matches your smile with one of his own.

“Deal.”

[nymphbroadcast]

Scarabia x MC! Like Charlie Morningstar

⊹Synopsis ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆The Scarabia boys with an MC! or Yuu like Charlie Morningstar.

⊹Relationship ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆Fall in love / free of interpretation.

⊹Fem! MC/Yuu/Reader ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

⊹Clarifications: This scenario is based on my own analysis of Charlie in the series, adding some information to give more meaning to the story.

⊹Charlie's Analysis ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

• Charlie is a kind and generous person, despite her obvious royal status she does not take advantage of it and also finds it "mean" if she used her status to intimidate other people, she tends to be completely disinterested unless she is in a desperate or dangerous situation with their loved ones. Charlie is a sensitive, very artistic and dreamy person who enjoys musicals, plays, shows and entertaining movies. She is a firm believer in second chances and always strives to understand the tastes and hobbies of others even if they are not entirely to her taste. When she hurts someone else's feelings she tends to exaggerate the situation and blame herself excessively even if it's not a big deal and she tries to make up for her mistake. She is quite skilled when it comes to her supernatural abilities and immense power but curiously she doesn't usually brag about it. and notably prefers to be "simple" and act like a less powerful person. Returning to her emotional sensitivity, Charlie is usually a pacifist but will not hesitate to use her immense power to defend her loved ones even if that includes sacrificing herself or hurting her enemy (only hurting because she is incapable of killing) and intimidating anyone if it is necessary only because of her love for "her people" even if she knows that they would not do it for her, it is easy for her to connect with people thanks to her pure heart.

Kalim Al-Asim

☀️ (Charlie and Emily Interaction 2.0) Kalim is very similar to you, you may be a little less childish but you are both innocent rays of sunshine who like to make others happy.

☀️ Kalim usually drags you with him everywhere to show you things he thinks you will like and you are delighted to see his thousands of animals and all his family's treasures and all the legends that follow them.

☀️ YOU TWO ARE THE LIFE OF THE PARTY, since you are splendid in singing and entertainment activities and Kalim in the organization and planning of banquets and parties... THE DUO IS PERFECT!!! You complement his skills and even help Jamil get at least 5 minutes of rest!

☀️ We all know that Kalim can be a little messy, but on the contrary you have an ENTIRE ITINERARY ORGANIZED IN YOUR HEAD so you usually remind him of certain things he must do and appease many of his extravagant desires with kindness and before Jamil explodes. (Jamil thanks you)

☀️ Kalim realizes some time later that you use your sorcery skills for similar things to what he does! For example, you light light bulbs for Halloween decorations or create fireworks at larger celebrations, it is something that fascinates him because often you hardly use them for anything and he thinks they are very cool!

☀️ At first your little panic attacks surprise him, because he thought you were much more relaxed... Seeing your VERY few moments of pure anger, the poor thing is terrified to see you so angry and your powers almost destroying everything around... fortunately It hasn't happened more than twice and you've never hurt anyone.

☀️ Kalim sees that you are a cheerful and very kind and generous soul like him, you both definitely have certain ideas of "justice" and "redemption" in common.

☀️ The first time he participates in your trust exercises he can tell that you and Jamil were the people he would trust the most, you were too honest to tell him that and Jamil... Well it's Jamil.

☀️ Kalim is a little curious when you introduce him to your two butlers, they look like goats in his eyes but you correct him and tell him that this is just a more friendly and functional way of looking, when you decide to show. Kalim the true form of the goats... THEY ARE TWO HUGE INFERNAL DRAGONS??!!! He is excited and offers to fly with you on his magic carpet, now imagine how terrified all of Scarabia is to see two dragons flying with their dorm leader through the sky... (RIP Jamil viper)

☀️ So you and Kalim are nicknamed "The Sun and the Rainbow of Night Raven College" and you both take care of and cheer up others together!

Jamil Viper

🐍 Upon meeting you and seeing how naive you seemed he clearly takes advantage of this, using his unique magic on you seeing that you're never particularly as alert as you should be since you arrived at Twisted Wonderland.

🐍 He is surprised by those two goats that follow you and Grimm wherever you go and how they are so protective of you, you explain to him that they are your twin butlers and that your dad gave them to you to guarantee your safety and he doesn't know what to think... why a couple of little goats???

🐍 However, the times he interacts with you while you are not under his control, Jamil can see that in addition to being naive, you are too helpful and kind, offering to help him with his tasks and duties in Scarabia and with Kalim.

🐍 At the time of the Overblot and being sent to the farthest corner of Scarabia, you asked the Octavinelle boys and Kalim to "ride" your two little butlers. Their surprise was pleasant when both goats turned into... COLOSSAL INFERNAL DRAGONS... Floyd he's having fun and Azul is terrified... (I know it doesn't have much to do with Jamil but I had to add Razzle and Dazzle's transformation)

🐍 Also during his Overblot Jamil was able to see for the first time what your anger was like (unleashed by feeling betrayed and Jamil's horrible audacity in controlling Kalim, who fully trusted him) and your powerful chaotic witchcraft, fortunately you have a law of "Not hurting anyone" and you only dedicated yourself to tiring and stunning him until Octavinelle and Kalim's boys hit a final blow.

🐍 After that, Jamil thought that you would be willing to give him some kind of punishment with that powerful "magic" of yours, however his eyes widened when he saw how you extended your hand towards him and talked to him about a second chance.

🐍 From then on he has tried to be as formal as possible, both for your status and for your sensitive personality (He doesn't want to feel a couple of fireworks breaking his eardrums again).

🐍 Every time he discovers more facets of you, your cheerful, almost invasive personality sometimes reminds him of Kalim and he only torments himself thinking that he will have to take care of you too.

🐍 Luckily for him, you are much more responsible and calm than Kalim and you are often the one who gently convinces Kalim to stop his extravagant ideas and he thanks you (not out loud).

🐍 On the other hand, Jamil sometimes doesn't know what to think about you since you listen to him when he starts rambling about his childhood and his desire to be even better than Kalim... And you're also sane enough to remind him that it's not Kalim's fault that Jamil is forced to take care of him 24/7 and that in reality Kalim is just a spoiled child who is too innocent and a bit ignorant to realize that maybe he forgets to give Jamil some space and quiet.

🐍 YOU EVEN PROMISE THAT WHEN YOU ARE THE RULER OF YOUR HOUSEHOLD YOU WILL HELP HIM STOP BEING A SERVANT OF THE ASIM FAMILY. (I see Charlie capable of this, sorry)

🐍 He definitely takes on the role of your protector out of will, seeing that you are perhaps too pure to be there and be labeled with the "Villains".

🐍 You catch him off guard when you say with the purest of smiles and the most honest words that it doesn't bother you when people call you "Villain" because all of them, including him, are your people... they are your family...

🐍 In the end he appreciates your company and your firm beliefs, he strives to make you understand that sometimes you cannot give a second chance to certain people but you always show him the opposite, you become his refuge and a cloth for tears because you are so pure that he He knows that you will never take advantage of his weaknesses.

Nymph's Note:

Charlie is my favorite character from Hazbin Hotel, since this is my first writing I hope you will forgive my mistakes because English is not my native language, I hope you liked it... And I have been thinking about doing one of these for Malleus! As the SIMP No. 1 of Malleus, I feel like an MC! like Charlie would be the perfect Yuu to be the darling of the cute dragon boy!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

Remember to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Scarabia Dorm x MC! Like Charlie Morningstar Done! ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

Next...???

[rorysterr]

Can I get a matchup?(or we can do a trade and i can match you up with someone)

Little info

Personality: INFP

Im introverted as heck and am diagnosed with adhd(we're going to be looking into autism at some point although i wont beat allegations). My hyperfixations are many and few. Although im kind and open up to people.

Notable ones include:Evillious(to sum it up, vocaloids murdering eachother for 1000 years) and buddyfight(card fight game like yugioh). Obey me is high up but my parents dont yet know what the hell it is(and we are keeping it that way)

Height:5'0. Anyone who insults my height gets glares.

My hobbies include writing and drawing. I can also translate all the evillious songs(minus ones like white brick and that) into english from memory.

Im a girl whos into taller guys (like malleus from twisted wonderland) and will infodump like crazy any chance i get. So a guy who is a listener is very much something id like.

If I missed anything um.. Im sorry im new to matchups. But you can always send me an ask if you need anymore info for a matchup.

hi yes id love to give you a matchup!!:D

Your romantic matchup is…

Beelzebub!!

- this one might be unexpected but hear me out! i did the process of elimination to get this and i think Beel would suit you the best. satan was a runner up but i think he might be a bit too much of a tease and the feels weren’t there.

- So Beel perfectly fits your criteria. He’s tall (one of the tallest characters in the game) and he’s a listener. Beel is reserved and very observant. It’s not that he’s shy or anything, but I think hes the type that only speaks whenever he feels as though he has anything meaningful to say (or if it’s food related, but that’s because of his sin ofc). Because of this, I see Beel as a wonderful listener and I think he’d remember some of the things you tell him.

- Mammon was also lowkey a runner up but I think Mammon isn’t really a good listener and I don’t think he’d remember anything you tell him LMAO

- Anywho, I can see Beel being super drawn to you because of your kindness towards other people. I personally think that Beel’s type would be someone who’s kind and family oriented. You may not have said that you are family oriented so I can’t say you completely fit his criteria, but you’re kind and I can imagine you being caring towards his brothers. Beel himself is family oriented, which is why I say that I think he’d like someone who’s family oriented as well, but seeing how kind you are to his brothers would draw him towards you.

- I feel like he kinda just observed you though but didn’t really talk to you though, yk? Beel doesn’t strike me as someone who would approach people because he himself is also pretty introverted (which is also why I picked him for you).

- I feel like you either offered him food or maybe one of his brothers went missing and you two were looking for that brother together. Seeing how concerned you were for his brother made Beel start to open up to you more.

- You may be introverted but you’re the kind who doesn’t have trouble opening up to others, you just like your alone time! So I could see you starting the conversation and then Beel keeping it going.

- I think Beel would really trust you and whenever he feels down (about Belphie, Lilith, or just survivors guilt), I can see him coming to you. But I also feel like you’d cheer him up almost effortlessly. I can’t put my finger on it, but I just feel like you’re really good at cheering people up and making them smile LMAO

- also you do NOT need to worry about Beel making fun of your height because he basically towers over most of the other characters in the game so he’s kinda just used to being taller than people. I think he might even like your height just bc he can easily pick you up and carry you places and he likes that!

- I can see him making the move in this case just because I feel like you two would be friends for a long time and when he realizes that his feelings for you are more than platonic, he’ll waste no time.

- you can expect a lot of cuddles with this guy and a lot of hand holding. one of his love languages is physical touch and i feel like he’s the type who’s touchy without even realizing (if that even makes sense😭). Like he’ll just grab your hand and walk alongside you without even noticing bc it was kinda a subconscious thing of his.

- also expect him to take you out on dinner or lunch dates a lot!

- also kinda random but i think he’d find the fact that you can translate all the evilliois songs from memory so impressive LMAO (i did!!)

Runner Up… Mammon

Your platonic matchup is…

Leviathan!!

- So I think this might start off a bit rocky. I can imagine that you were super nice and sweet when you first met him but he’s not used to being met with kindness, so he just kept calling you a “normie.” This may have hurt your feelings at first or made you not go out of your way to talk to him so I think for a little while, it was awkward between you two.

- However, I think one day he approached you. I could see him hesitantly approaching you for help, maybe he needs help installing a game or he probably bought a game from the human world and as the only human in the House of Lamentation, you were his best bet. I feel like he’d insist that he didn’t need help but he read all the controls and he still didn’t understand bc Devildom games probs work differently, so he sucked up his embarrassment and went to you for help.

- I feel like you helped him with open arms for some reason. That or you just remained chill.

- And I think after you helped Levi install his game, he probs asked you to play with him because he has no one else to play with, let’s face it😭 You’re the only other person who can understand its controls and his brothers can barely play Devildom games (maybe Lucifer is an exception but that’s besides the point).

- I think he’d get really excited when he finds out you’re into other games and you too would just back and forth yap. I actually considered him an option for the romantic matchup but I feel like he’d become too much of a yapper when it comes to stuff he really likes and you did say you’d like a listener. I think he’d be a great friend to yap WITH more than a partner to yap to, yk?

- Anywho though, I feel like he’d really appreciate your kindness and I can see you cheering him up whenever he’s feeling extra insecure!

- I think he’s the type to invite you over to his room to play games with or he might even invite you to watch some anime with him.

[presidenthades]

Day 2 of HOTD adventures at New York Comic Con

As I mentioned in my Day 1 post, I did end up attending the HOTD panel today! It was live-streamed, so I won’t bother with a full recap because a lot of people have probably watched the recording. I’ll just list a few things I thought were highlights.

First of all, I just want to brag about my very excellent seat. I had a great view of the stage.

My personal highlights:

Before the panel began, an event host went around the room to get some sound bites from the audience. The most notable was a pair of women who cosplayed Rhaenys and Meleys. That’s right, someone cosplayed MELEYS. I wish I’d gotten photos, but believe me when I say the cosplays were amazing.

When Matt talked about how he’s attended many fan events, it made me think about how during his brief interactions for photos and autographs, he still made every fan feel seen and appreciated. I read online that Matt, who was scheduled to do Saturday autographs only until 7pm, stayed after 10pm to make sure everyone in line got their autographs. He probably is aware that his lines are generally really long, and he did his best to make the experience worth it even though he had limited time.

It was a CROWDED room, I think 4000 people? If Fabien seemed a little startled/awestruck at first, that’s why. He also seemed surprised (at the panel and during other fan interactions later) that people were genuinely happy to see him. I suspect this is due to some people letting their feelings about Criston seep into their real-life interactions with Fabien.

Cock jokes. 😂😂😂

The host asked Tom and Fabien if they became more comfortable going from Season 1 to Season 2. Not sure if the livestream caught it, but Tom let out an awkward giggle after that question. 👀

When the host asked Fabien how he would rate his job as Hand and then the question was tossed to the audience, the reception was indeed lackluster. Lots of people held up hands with just one or two fingers raised. Fabien seemed really sheepish about it, though Tom defended Criston’s character. It reminded me of a conversation I overheard while queuing before the panel. There was a group of friends in the queue, and one of them said she’d never seen HOTD and knew nothing about it. Her friends told her that if the panel asked any questions about Cole, “don’t cheer because we hate him.”

Matt and Fabien discussing Daemon and Criston’s homoerotic trysts/tension. 🔥

Tom’s spiel about how he can’t turn his back on Aegon as a character or else everyone else will turn their backs was interesting. Also about how digging into the reasons Aegon behaves the way he does is “an explanation not an excuse.” I think that’s a nuance which unfortunately some people disregard, and that leads to toxic interactions in the fandom.

Matt’s description of Viserys’s death instilling in Daemon “an odd level of psychosis and grief” was VERY interesting.

I can’t believe Matt forgot Milly’s name. 😂 And when Fabien recounted that he told her to join them at NYCC, Milly said “no fucking way.” 😂😂😂

I happened to get a photo when Tom announced he spilled water on his trousers and, in his own words, it looked like he pissed himself.

The way the actors talked AROUND their feelings about the script/writers was intriguing. 👀 I wonder if Matt will actually make requests of the writers…

When the host asked what other character the actors would like to play, Fabien had trouble thinking of an answer, so the host said, “You love your character so much!” Fabien IMMEDIATELY said, “Don’t put that out into the aether.” It seems like he doesn’t allow himself to publicly declare that he likes anything about his own character, because he knows how much vitriol that would generate. 🥺

Tom has never watched Lord of the Rings??? CANCEL HIM. (JK please don’t.)

When the host asked the actors what was the worst note a director had ever given them, Fabien said it would have to wait a few years after HOTD. So I am pretty sure his “worst note” was something during HOTD. 👀

Matt thinks chipmunks and mice are the same thing. 😭

When the panel ended, Matt and Tom left pretty quickly because their handlers were ushering them to their next event. Fabien lingered onstage to take a picture of the giant audience. People SWARMED to the stage, and Fabien was nice enough to sign one or two things that people were shoving up at him before he also had to leave.

I ended up having time to go to Fabien’s autograph session later that day. On the way, I saw that Matt’s line was ridiculously long again. Tom’s line was also huge, I think because he left early the day before, so people were all trying to get his autograph today.

When I arrived, Fabien was going on a break, so several of us early birds waited for him to come back. Fabien and Tom’s booths were next to each other, and we were able to see what Tom was doing. Tom seemed tired again but was still nice and friendly to all the fans. I’m 99% sure his girlfriend was sitting nearby. He definitely perked up when he paused to chat with her.

When Fabien came back from his break, fans in the lines for both actors started cheering for him. Tom also started cheering and clapping and going “whooooo!” It’s good to see that the HOTD cast really do like and have fun with each other. ❤️

Once it was my turn to get an autograph and selfie, I told Fabien that I enjoyed his performance at Rook’s Rest, and I named a few specific Cole moments (pre-battle speech, stumbling around afterwards looking traumatized). He seemed to really appreciate hearing that; I feel like he might get a lot of “I hate Criston but…” kind of comments.

My HOTD adventures today were more Fabien-centered, and I enjoyed it! From my brief interaction, I would say Fabien is friendly, sweet, and genuinely interested in fan interactions—although maybe a little nervous/scared about what people will say to his face.

TBH I’m tempted to write a Criston POV for my fic series. I got Fabien to autograph a print that his team provided, but it would’ve been nice to be able to have him autograph something more personal. I love it anyway!

Now I’m going to show off my GOT/HOTD merch!

Postcards:

Stained glass window cling print that looks gorgeous when it’s backlit:

Not GOT/HOTD-related, but I found out last minute that Naomi Novik, AKA Astolat, AKA one of the founders of AO3, was attending NYCC on Sunday to sign books. So I hightailed to that event. She signed my copy of her new book (including my AO3 username) and my Fanbinding pouch. 🥰 I told her how much I adore her writing and appreciate her contribution to fandom. She was lovely!!

That little squiggle she draws in the middle is a dragon doodle! For those who don’t know, Naomi’s first published book series was Temeraire, which is about the Napoleonic Wars but with dragons.

Later that day, I was shopping at a booth selling gorgeous headbands. Then I turned around, and there was Naomi again, shopping at the same booth!! She was off-duty doing her own thing, so I tried very hard to pretend I didn’t know who she was, even though I was fangirling inside. She really is a nerdy fan like the rest of us, enjoying her con experience. ❤️❤️❤️

Here’s one of the headbands I got:

All in all, a very successful and fun con! But now I desperately need to catch up on sleep and get back to my normal routine, so maybe I can resume writing. 🥲😴

[tsudigogo]

I saw Bob in Glengarry Glen Ross last night, ladiezzz...

I really enjoyed it! it's a fairly tight play (two sets, 1h45m, about half a dozen roles) with lots of rapid-fire and overlapping dialogue, as David Mamet tends to write. Very funny, but also very of the time in which it was written/set.

Bob was awesome, I genuinely see why he earned a Tony nomination. A lot of his Bob-isms were on display - the frequent and large hand gestures, the iconic yelling - but his performance was so different from his most notable dramatic roles. His character, Shelley Levine, is an insecure bullshit artist like Saul/Jimmy. But he has no core of love in him - he's aggressive and resentful, and he'll say anything to get you to do what he wants (frequently in rapid succession, making him come off as completely untrustworthy and insincere). He's also not very smart. So while he's deeply pathetic, in no way is he a sad little meow meow like Jimmy or even a fun asshole like Saul. He's just an awful loser desperately lying and cheating in order to survive. Bob not only sells all of this, but he's also (naturally) very funny while he does it. He's super dynamic and I'd like to think I was drawn to watching him not just because I'm a fan but because he had such command of the stage and such comfort inhabiting his character. He just keeps getting better and better as a dramatic actor and I feel so lucky I got to see him perform.

A few other notes:

- Bob and Kieran had great chemistry, I enjoyed their scenes together the most.

- Kieran does a really great piece of physical comedy that was probably the funniest part of the play.

- Michael was awesome, he's such a pro. In his first scene he's mostly just reacting to Bill Burr's character but he got big laughs from his delivery on lines that were only a single word long. He was totally dialed in the whole time and it ruled.

I'm sorry the photos of curtain call are so shit, people immediately stood up to give a standing ovation and I was trying to balance clapping/cheering with taking pics.

I didn't go to the stage door because I find meeting celebrities weird and have no idea what to say to them.

If any other bogs get a chance to go, I highly recommend it and I want to hear your thoughts!

[extraordinaryhistories]

#28 - 'Jamila' (non-album track, 1998)

If you love someone, write a song about them. It’s real easy! Pick up a guitar, buy a tape recorder, learn three chords, scrape your fingers over the strings a few times, and sing about how you feel. It matters not whether you have the voice of Pavarotti or of Florence Foster Jenkins – all that matters is the intent. People are mortal, but art will endure long after we pass on; to record and release a song for someone is to let them experience a sliver of eternity. And if you happen to be Sufjan Stevens, twenty-something Australians from the opposite side of the globe will analyse your song decades later.

‘Jamila’ is not the first song that Sufjan wrote about a named individual, and it will certainly not be the last. It is, however, a rare unearthed document of a period in Sufjan’s career where writing about named individuals was just about all he did. ‘Jamila’ was recorded around 1998, which was a transformative year for Sufjan: the final stretch of his time at Hope College coincided with a torrent of musical productivity. To channel that productivity into tangible, skill-based gains, he decided to restrict himself for weeks at a time to writing songs concerning very specific themes. Sufjan has left the overwhelming majority of his work from this era unreleased – understandably so, given how limited his means of recording were back in the four-track days – and as such we are only privy to two of these themes. One was serial killers. The other was, less helpfully, names. Names of family, names of friends, names of strangers who, in an alternate universe, might have been either.

Strike one for the ‘family’ subcategory. The name ‘Jamila’ is an anglicised rendering of Djamilah, one of Sufjan’s sisters. Even ignoring interviews and Tumblr posts, there is plenty of evidence to demonstrate the life-long closeness of the Stevens siblings; observe songs like ‘Sister’ and ‘Djohariah’, or hear their voices wheedle their way through your speakers on ‘Godzukie’. These songs – their tenderness, affections and candour – reveal everything about this difficult family dynamic that Stevens’ biography could, or more. In the face of endless transience and a mother (their mother) who would be in, and out, and in, and out, and in, and out of their lives, it is no wonder that they share between them a bond worthy of encasing in song. Sufjan loves, and loves loving, his sisters. Can you really blame him?

‘Jamila’, unearthed and released by Sufjan in 2013 for his sister’s birthday, is a very simple song. It is short – clocking in at a hair over two minutes – and betrays its shoddy four-track recording in nearly every second; once you notice those astringent slides up and down the strings every time Sufjan changes chords you will never be able to un-notice them. The melody is sunny and endlessly cheerful, its highlights coming in the moments where Sufjan deviates from the main phrase (especially that jazzy little run at 1:45, a carnally satisfying moment). The vocal inflections are hugely indebted to Sufjan’s influences, notably Elliott Smith, in their mixture of nasally highs and obscured whispers. And to underscore all of this, the recording begins with an extended false start that feels less like a deliberate ‘Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream’-esque artistic choice and more like a genuine inability to hit that first chord change on Sufjan’s one-and-only take of the song.

The thing about a song like this is that you would not have it any other way. ‘Jamila’ thrives in its clear-eyed earnestness. It is one of Sufjan’s most honest pieces of music, back in the days when his biggest artistic concerns were remembering chord shapes and figuring out whether ‘sister’ could rhyme with ‘missed her’. The total lack of pretention on display here lends itself so well to a simple, celebratory outpouring of familial love, a folk singer’s ode to one of his life’s greatest joys. Even the violent way that Sufjan rips those chords out of his guitar feels ripe with genuine enthusiasm. Messy, but about the truest possible representation of a young man’s love. Look here, Djamilah, see what I can do!

Neither do the lyrics hide much in the way of subtext. These are adorable couplets that capture real feelings. A couple lines are clouded by odd rhymes (‘Eleven, like heaven’ is a lyric that remains more or less indecipherable), but there is no need to interpret ‘My sister, I missed her / She's always a good friend of mine’ or ‘Write her a letter, a letter / To tell her that I am just fine’. Real affection, delivered sincerely. The song’s cutest moment, though, is ‘My sister, my sister / She'll keep me from liquor and crime’ – both because the notion of sibling-as-moral anchor is beautiful and pretty much the platonic ideal of sisterhood, but also because of the implication that ‘liquor and crime’ are the worst evils that Sufjan can imagine. Absolutely not beating the ‘flower child’ allegations there.

By the time Sufjan finally released ‘Jamila’ – post-Age of Adz, pre-Carrie and Lowell – his art had long since matured. Heartbreak, sex, illness and death had now crept their way into his songs, and his images and turns of phrase had become fractally nuanced. He had become a better writer. But I don’t think he could have put together a song like ‘Jamila’ in 2013 – not with that same sort of innocent love spilling out of every lyric. Growing up necessitates certain corners of the self fading away, and as such, I’m glad Sufjan thought to immortalise Djamilah in song at the moment he did. Youth isn’t always wasted on the young, you know.

[hotpinkrathian]

I know that the holidays are *technically* over, and I'm late posting this. But if anyone has any cheer leftover here's a Hallmark movie Kyalin fic

Kya stepped off the train, the tempered air pinching her nose. 

She looked at the crisp snow as it landed on her belongings with a certain fondness. 

The snow in RC was different than the snow at the poles, or the lack of snow in Ba Sing Se. 

It had an aura to it, which she attributed to the density of airbenders in the area. 

She pulled on her mitts, setting her bag down for a moment. 

She would regret it though, as almost instantaneously someone came up behind her, looping the handles of her purse around their arm and sprinting into a run. 

“Hey!” She shouted, running after them. She pulled her suitcase behind her, inevitably slowing her down.

The perpetrator was far ahead of her, clearly a skilled thief as they expertly maneuvered through the crowded station. 

“Someone stop them!” She shouted, but people simply watched her futile chase. 

She was about to give up, when a woman stepping onto the platform stuck out her arm, stopping the thief with a self-inflicted blow to the throat. 

Kya gasped as she went up to the stranger and the fallen perpetrator. 

“Oh my, thank you so much,” she said, wrapping the woman in a hug. 

The woman stiffened, but accepted it. 

When they pulled apart she picked up the bag by the straps, the thief wheezing on the ground. 

“I believe, based on circumstances, this is yours,” the woman said, handing it to her.

“It is, thank you so much. No one else stopped them and I guess my yelling didn't quite warrant the attention of security.” She said sarcastically, doing a quick check of her bag to make sure everything was there. 

“Yeah the security here is pretty terrible.” The woman agreed. Upon closer inspection, Kya was able to make out a few distinct features. 

She had porcelain skin with jet black hair. Her eyes were a very distinct shade of green, undoubtedly speaking to her earth nation heritage. 

But most notably were a set of paired scars, running from her cheekbones to the base of her face. The tissue was slightly raised, speaking to a rushed patch job, but relatively neutral in color. 

“Tell me about it. What a warm welcome back to the city, robbed as soon as I step onto the platform.” Kya said, brushing herself off and strapping her purse onto herself.

Past the other woman she was able to see a couple of guards coming up to them, a definite lack of pep in their step. 

“We'll take it from here- chief?” 

“Surprise.” The other woman said. Kya watched, trying to make sense of the interaction.

“We were just-”

“I know what you were doing, and it nearly cost this lovely woman her purse, and you three weeks of desk duty.” The officers looked at each other, defeated as they picked up the thief and began to carry him away. 

“You're the security,” Kya said, facepalming.

“Mm, close. Lin Beifong, Chief of Police. Please excuse my lack of uniform, I've just arrived from Zaofu.” 

Kya accepted the hand shake, still feeling a little embarrassed. 

“I feel like an idiot,” she told Chief Beifong. 

“Don't. We appreciate the feedback. Helps me decide who's cut out for field work.” 

“Well, I'm glad I could help.”

“What's your name, you know, for the incident report?” 

“Oh, uh Kya. Kya Cloud.”  Kya watched the gears turn in the police Chief's head as her name registered. There was no way someone of so much status hadn't heard her name before. 

She was the only daughter of Avatar Aang, after all. 

“Well, I reckon it's about time we met, Miss Cloud”.

“Just Kya is fine.”

“Right. Well, is there anything else I can do for you, maybe something that will increase your rating?” 

Kya laughed, pulling her things close to her.

“I think this will suffice,” Kya told her, “you can expect at least three elements from me.”

“I'll take it.” Chief Beifong stated. “I'll see you around, ‘just Kya’.” 

Kya bade her farewell, watching the woman go down the platform. 

She took a deep breath, suppressing her smile, and the butterflies in her stomach as she started the walk home. 

“I can't believe you almost got robbed!” Her mother said, hugging Kya again for good measure. 

“Mom, relax, it ended up okay. You know I could've taken him. If I had been prepared.” 

“Your lucky Lin was there.”

“No kidding. She was very efficient.” 

“She's excellent at her job. The best Police Chief the City has ever seen. Including its first.” 

“Who was the first?”

“Kya, I know I've told you.”

“And you know I'm forgetful. I'm a busy woman, mom.”

“Lin's own mother, one of my best friends, Toph Beifong.”

Memories came back as Kya pieced history together. No wonder Lin had come off familiar, she had been an essential person in Kya's early childhood. Kya was about fourteen when the Beifong's stopped hanging around. It seemed like a lifetime ago despite it being only twenty years. 

“Right, I remember now.” Kya said. 

Her mother didn't seem assured, but carried on with her preparation anyway. Her and Kya were currently decorating the temple for the holidays, making everything either sparkle, or shine. It would be the first Christmas with a baby in the family, and Kya's first time meeting the little one. 

She felt terrible she hadn't seen Jinora, but her career often had her on the road, and she hadn't gotten a chance to stop at Republic City in nearly eight months. 

She took some solace in knowing Jinora was only a month old, so there was still plenty of time for her to become the career-wine aunt. 

“When will Tenzin be by?” She asked.

“He told me he and Pema should be back tomorrow. They decided to break the trip from the air temple into one more day, to give them some time to sufficiently rest.” 

“So just you and me tonight then mum?”

“Actually I have to make a City council meeting. The last one before the holidays.”

“So just me?”

“Sorry dear. You're welcome to come, or you could go out. Spend a night on the town? It's Saturday so it should be alive. Not Friday night alive, but alive nonetheless.”

“Alright. Know any good spots?”

“Hmm, I've heard some friends talk about Rafters. It might be old for you though.”

“Gotta start somewhere. Maybe I can bring a plus one to Christmas,” Kya smirked. 

Katara shot her a glare, so Kya just laughed.

She supposed she was going out tonight.

Her mother was right about the crowd of Rafters being older. Kya didn't mind, it meant more people willing to buy her a drink. At this rate, she'd be plastered before the tides even changed directions. 

She sat at the bar, absorbing the chatter of the crowd. Sipping on a peppermint Mojito- tis’ the season. The TV was set to a pro-bending tournament, which she hadn't paid attention to.

Her attention was drawn to a boisterous chatter at the door. A group of people came in, laughing, and dressed uniformly. 

At the tail end of the group was a woman, in her thirties, porcelain skin, black chopped hair and a pair of scars on her cheek. 

The woman saw Kya, too, excusing herself from the others and coming up to her.

“Are you stalking me?” Lin asked, setting an elbow on the bar and leaning in.

“I could ask you the same.”

“Hah, I always come here on Saturday. Like clockwork.” 

Kya had an inkling her mother may have had some ulterior motives sending Kya here.

It was frustrating, but Kya had to applaud her mother's nonchalance. 

“Well you got me. Take me away, officer,” Kya said, holding out her wrists. 

Lin smiled, looking at the table of her colleagues, then back to Kya.

“Why don't we pretend you weren't drinking alone, and you come join us?”

“Saving me twice today? Someone is looking out for me.”

“Seems to me you're still owed a proper Republic City welcome.”

“Your rating just went up, Beifong.” 

Lin smiled, ushering Kya to their table. 

“Everyone, this is Kya Cloud.” Lin introduced. Kya watched the same gears turn in their heads as she had with Lin earlier. 

“She'd like to join us tonight, if that's alright.”

No one protested, and Kya slid into the booth next to Lin. 

She absorbed their stories, shopping recommendations, restaurant recommendations and tourism tips for RC. By midnight she had a comprehensive list of everything Republic City had to offer.

She had also had another Peppermint Mojito, a Gingerbread Martini, and a shared pitcher of Apple Cranberry Sangria. 

“Have a good night everyone!” Lin said, watching her coworkers leave. The two of them were left in the booth. 

“You didn't want to go with them?” Kya asked.

“No.”

“Why not? And don't say because I needed a walk home.”

“Hah, I'm wasted. As soon as I stand up I'm going to hit the floor. Didn't want them to see me like this.” 

Kya laughed, sliding out of the booth, offering her own dizzy hand to Lin, who took it. 

“You got cash?” Lin asked. 

“A bit, why?”

“Tip the bartender. I used all mine on the pitcher.” Kya pulled her cash out, leaving it on the table as the two of them headed outside for the sobering cold. They walked a ways, shivering slightly at the brisk air, before Lin pulled a cigarette from her pocket, using a lighter to ignite it. 

“You know those are terrible for you,” Kya told her.

“Yup,” Lin replied, handing it to her. Kya accepted  taking a puff before handing it back. 

“So, you're back for the holidays?” Lin asked her.

“Yeah, my brother had a baby. Figured it warranted a visit.”

“Really? Which brother?” 

“Tenzin, the younger one.” 

“Wow, I remember going to school with him. He always wanted a family, so that's good to hear.” 

“Yeah. A little girl, Jinora.” 

Lin nodded, taking another puff.

“And what about Bumi?”

“Still with the United Forces Navy. He's coming back in a couple days. His service will be over in… a couple years I think? Got a couple medals, and don't ask because I'm terrible at that stuff.”

Kya watched as Lin took another long, contemplative puff before handing the cig back to Kya. 

“And you?” Lin asked. 

Kya scoffed on her exhale, relishing the warmth of the smoke on her face.

“I move around a lot for work. I'm a doctor, wherever a patient needs me to be one. Just came from Ba Sing Se.”

“How's the patient?” 

“Dead.”

“Jeez, I'm sorry.” 

“Don't be,” Kya said, handing what little was left of the cigarette back to Lin, “she was old, she knew it was coming. I was there easing the pain.”

Lin seemed satisfied with that, and her cigarette had run out, so they kept walking. They were making their way towards the ferry, and as the alcohol wore off, Kya was starting to feel the real effects of the cold. 

“Can I ask you something?” Kya asked as they walked.

“I got them on duty. Apprehending a getaway driver for a triad.”

“Oh, uh, I'm sorry.” 

“Don't be, I haven't even told you the worst part.”

“Oh.”

“The driver was my sister.”

Sister. That was right, there were two Beifong children… Lin and…

“Suyin.” Kya stated. Lin seemed impressed, and nodded.

“She was young, dumb, and fell  in with the wrong crowd. We've… made up, sort of. I visit once a year, if just to see the kids.” 

“She has kids?

“Yup, four with one on the way.”

“Wow.” Kya said, unsure of what to make of that. She didn't even know what Suyin looked like anymore. It was hard to picture the toddler she once knew with five kids. 

They were coming up on the pier, and Kya was getting tired of seeing her frosty breath in front of her. 

“You don't have to come on the ferry,” Kya told her, “I get it's a hassle, really I'll be okay.”

“It won't affect the rating, will it?” Lin teased, sticking her hands in her coat. 

Kya laughed, shaking her head. 

“Of course not. Assuming I don't get mugged aboard.”

“Well, if you do, you know where to find me.”

Lin said. The Chief removed a single cold hand from her coat, offering Kya a handshake, which Kya accepted. 

They bade their farewells and Kya continued on to the ferry, opting to sit indoors and warm up. 

She had to wait ten minutes for the change of the hour before the boat departed, but the journey across was only twenty minutes. 

She used the time to reflect on her night, how it had immediately improved upon Lin’s arrival at the bar. She wished she had a better way to express her gratitude. 

When they docked she tipped the ferryman, and made for the warmth of the temple. 

As expected, her mom was already asleep. Kya went for the pitcher of water and poured herself a glass, hoping to curve the hangover she was going to have tomorrow. 

She made her way up the stairs, pausing at her mother's door, but moving on.

She laid in bed, her mind once again drifting to the events of the day, and how circumstances had guided her interactions with Chief Beifong twice. 

How many times before she could stop the coincidence excuse?

“Coming!” Kya said, walking to the door. The bell had gone off, and her mother's hands were full with bed sheets as she prepared for the prodigal son’s return. 

“hel- Lin?” 

“morning Kya,” the earthbender said, her arms crossed. 

“did I forget something or-” 

“Actually, I'm here for Katara. You don't mind if I borrow her for a moment, do you?”

Kya was caught off guard, and she was well aware of her processing delay crossing her slow response. 

“right, of course, come on in.”

“Katara?”

“Chief Beifong in the flesh! You aren't fed up with me and Kya yet?”

“fed up with you? Me? Never. I brought those papers you inquired about last night. I know you won't have another order of business till after the holidays, and it seems you have your hands full here, or you're about to, so I figured I'd bring them over early. Take your time, I just need them back before the hearing on the second.” 

“Absolutely it's no problem Lin, and thank you so much. I'm surprised you didn't send one of your ‘henchmen’”

“my ‘henchmen’ are far and few right now. No one wants to work over the holidays.”

“and you shouldn't either,” 

“heh, I've had my fun. I went to Zaofu last week. I just got back yesterday- when I ran into Kya actually.” 

Kya allowed herself to drift into the conversation at the mention of her name. 

“good for you! How are Su and the kids?”

Kya could see Lin bite her tongue, and she wanted to ask for the tea, but refrained in fear of coming on too strong. 

“as good as they'll ever be.” Lin replied after a thoughtful pause.

“and you?” Katara asked, surprising Kya by placing her hands on either side of Lin’s face.

“good as I’ll ever be.” Katara didn't seem convinced, but she released the earthbender. Lin looked at Kya, a shameful look on her face. Like a guilty puppy. 

“Why don't you come for dinner tonight?” Katara asked. 

“I shouldn't. Kya tells me you're getting the other thirds this afternoon. You've got a full house.”

“Really it's fine,” Kya interjected. “I mean, there's plenty of food, and you've been such a help.” Lin looked torn. Like her heart said yes but her head said no. 

Kya told herself she would accept either verdict. 

“Alright, but just for dinner. I refuse to disrupt your family anymore.” 

“Of course, we will see you tonight then, Lin.” 

Katara said. 

“I'll walk you out,” Kya offered. The door was only a few meters behind them, but Kya walked anyway. 

“Thanks,” Lin said, placing her nimble fingers on the doorknob.

“It's no problem, really.” Kya assured her. “Holidays, right? No one should be alone.” 

Lin nodded, her hands turning the knob slightly. 

“Right. Um, last night… you had fun, right?” Lin asked nervously.”

Kya looked at her, not in an inspection way, but in the most honest way she knew how. 

“Of course. My mom can't stop teasing me about it.” 

“We should do it again sometime,” Lin suggested, and Kya felt her heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, totally.” 

Lin's hand finished turning the knob. 

“I'll see you tonight, Kya.”

“See you tonight,” Kya replied, watching her step out into the snow, closing the door behind her. 

“You are an evil woman mother,” she said, shaking her head. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

“Mhmm, so you just sent me to the random cop bar last night?”

“It's the only bar I know about.” 

“Right and it happens to be a cop bar?”

“Lin's the only person in the city that I know goes to bars.”

“And inviting her over?”

“She's a friend Kya, we see each other all the time. I helped her with her… accident a while back. You get close in a situation like that.” 

Kya eyed her mother suspiciously but decided to let it slide.

She was onto Katara, but truthfully, she didn't mind. 

In fact, she was hoping things went well tonight, even if it meant her mother had to do a little meddling. 

Things were just as exciting as Kya had anticipated when her brothers arrived. They were both coming from different directions, but their arrival times appeared to be coordinated with Tenzin and company arriving fifteen minutes after Bumi. 

“How was your trip?” Katara asked, embracing her youngest in a hug.

“It was fantastic, mother.” 

“Mm, so we can expect baby number two in nine months?” Kya teased, earning herself a swat from Katara. 

“I prepared the rooms for you guys, washed your sheets and everything. Little Jinora's nursery is all ready for her upstairs.”

“Perfect, I think this one could use a nap, inside a real house, with an actual crib.” Pema stated, taking Jinora inside.

With all of them together the absence of their father was more noticeable. It had only been ten months since his passing, and the first holiday season without him. Kya could see the pained look in her mother's eye, but she knew that offering a hug would only make it worse.

At least they had a baby to help fill the void of Avatar Aang. 

Kya helped Bumi and Tenzin carry their belongings inside, like the good sister she was, while she thought about what it would mean for them to have a festive dinner without her dad.

Surely Bumi would take over the toast because he was the oldest? Or Tenzin because he was also an arrowhead? 

Either way she was off the hook, which meant she could focus on the chief. 

“Lin will be joining us tonight,” Katara told the boys.

“Lin? I haven't seen her in…well it has to be over a decade,” Bumi said. 

“How did you manage to convince Lin to join us?” Tenzin asked, looking up the stairs for his wife. 

“Oh you are too hard on her Tenzin. She was happy to come. Plus I owe her one for taking care of your sister.”

“You got arrested?” Bumi asked, directing his inquiry at Kya.

“Excuse me? I got robbed at the train station and she caught the guy. Why did you automatically assume I was the perpetrator?”

“It wouldn't be the first time,” Bumi stuck his tongue out and Kya wanted to slap him. 

“You got robbed? Kya are you okay?” Tenzin asked, and Kya nodded her head.

“Bumi, see how he was concerned for my well being? Yes Tenzin I am fine, I didn't even lose anything. The guy tried to make a run for it and Lin stuck her arm out and basically throat-punched the guy as he sprinted down the platform.”

“Badass,” Bumi commented, earning a glare from his brother and mother. 

“Anyway,” Katara interjected, “I invited her for dinner, it's bad enough she has to work this time of year. The least we can do is offer her a warm meal and some company.” 

“Didn't she make up with her sister?” Tenzin asked. 

“Yes, but she went last week to see them. As the Chief she's kind of expected to be here over the holidays.”

The others seemed convinced and Kya leaned into Bumi's ear.

“Plus, Lin is super hot now,” she said, earning a raised eyebrow from her older brother. 

She caught her mother's smirk, and Kya realized she may not have been as quiet as she'd thought. 

Dinner time came, and with it so did snow, and of course, Republic City Police Chief Lin Beifong. 

She came in, an impressive bottle of wine in her hand, and allowed Kya to take her coat. 

They exchanged small greetings before Kya led her to the dining room. In the better lighting Kya was able to make out more of her features and clothing. 

Her pants were gray Khaki's which she paired with a black turtleneck and a black and gold belt. 

Kya felt underdressed in her corduroys, but she took solace in knowing she was still more put together than either of her brothers. 

“Welcome Lin, please take a seat.” Katara greeted, gesturing to the chair next to her, in between Katara and Kya. 

“Thank you for having me everyone,” Lin said as she sat down.

“It's no problem dear. I owe you one for keeping Kya safe, and busy the other night.” 

Kya immediately blushed, sure of the insinuation her brother would read into. 

Sure enough Bumi smirked at her, and she forced herself to look away.

“Just doing my job, Katara. Tenzin, Pema, Katara tells me you just got back from the Eastern Air temple, how was it?”

“It was beautiful,” Tenzin told her.

“But no place for a newborn, the building is far too drafty. Trying to get Jinora to sleep when the wind is echoing throughout the entire place was a nightmare.” 

Kya chuckled a bit, satisfied with Pema's honesty. Tenzin had good intentions, but he was the kind of willfully naive type. 

He was optimistic, without the necessary caution. Something he'd learn as a father no doubt. 

“And Bumi, I've heard much word of you over the years, Rear Admiral.” 

Kya was aware of her brother's status in the Navy, but truthfully she had no idea what rankings meant. She remembered when he was made Lieutenant, and that was a good thing. “Rear” made it sound worse but “Admiral” sounded like a promotion. 

Lin was congratulating him, so Kya took it as an improvement. 

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” Bumi said, “I appreciate that Lin. Take notes, Kya.” 

Kya waved him off, plucking a piece of her meal onto a fork and stuffing her mouth. 

“Well Lin, we've heard the story from Kya, but we would love to hear your perception of what happened at the train station the other day.”

“Of course,” Lin said, placing her utensils gently on either side of her plate. 

“I'm getting off the train, I'd just come from a long, and I mean LONG week at Zaofu. I step into the republic city air, honestly I was looking forward to it. Then I hear this woman shouting, pulling a suitcase behind her, flailing her arms. And a man she's running behind and instinct kind of just kicked in. I stretched out my arm and he hit it. I will never forget the look on Kya's face though. Jaw agape, sweat coating her brow and her eyes shocked and relieved. Went through all of the emotions in a single moment.”

The table burst into laughter, and Kya did too. The whole thing seemed so silly and spontaneous now. 

“I owe you one, Lin,” Kya joked, “next time you need a bad guy apprehended and you're double booked let me know. Can't promise it'll be as clean as what you are used to, but it'll get done.”

“Mmm, it's very tempting Kya, don't make a promise you can't keep.” 

“I can keep it.”

“Wonderful to hear, you want to go to work for me tomorrow?” 

“Can't, holiday plans,” Kya grinned. The look on Lin's face was… confusing. 

Captivating, titillating, flirtatious. 

Uh oh. 

Kya was now well aware of the table watching their banter and she wanted to excuse herself but doing so would confirm what they were all thinking. 

She side eyed her brother's smirk and returned to her meal with a blush. 

Luckily her mother offered to get the dessert and the conversation continued to flow smoothly for the rest of the meal.

It was nearly 9:30 pm before they were wrapped up. After a glass of wine (or two) Lin was ready to leave so Kya offered to walk with her to the ferry. 

“You know,” Lin started, “you don't have to make excuses to come see me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, if you wanted to stop by the police station sometime you could say it's to follow up on the train station thief. Or you could say you wanted to see me.”

“And why would I say that?” Kya played along. 

“Because you wanted to ask me on a second date.” 

“Think you skipped a step there, Lin. The wine get to you? Or was it my gingersnaps?”

“On the contrary, Kya, I think it was you. My head hasn't been quite right since the day I saved your purse.” 

“Anything I can help with? I'm a healer after all.” 

“Probably. I have some free time Saturday at seven. We could go to  Zoryu's Palace at seven-thirty.”

“Why not seven?” Kya asked.

“I need time to pick you up.” Lin replied.

It was something about the nonchalance, yet the nervousness. All of the personality, but the withholding words that tempted Kya into saying yes.

One day, Lin would ask her why she agreed to get dinner with the Chief of Police and Kya would tell her it was because she wanted to say thanks, or that Lin's charismatic charm had won her over. 

But truthfully, Kya had known she met her match from the moment she saw her throat punch the thief at the train station. 

"It's a date."

[foxes-that-run]

NEVER GO OUT OF STYLE

Harry Styles Proclaimed His Enduring Love for Taylor Swift’s “22” During a Concert

Years after breaking up with Taylor Swift, Styles is (understandably) still quite a fan of the bop.

by Steph Eckardt March 22, 2018 W magazine (x)

Harry Styles Tour Opener at The Masonic Auditorium

Remember “22” by Taylor Swift, the seminal pop song released long before the singer declared herself dead and started out hanging in bathtubs full of millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds? Of course you do—the song was such an omnipresent bop at the time that chances are you know the words to at least the chorus. Still, it doesn’t seem to have been at the forefront of most people’s minds, since it came out in 2012, but those select few notably happen to include Harry Styles, who’s still publicly showcasing his love for the song years later.

While onstage as part of his Copenhagen tour this week, Styles decided to give a birthday shout-out to one of his fans. He then asked how old she was, and then tried to guess in an extremely strange, apparently self-aware voice of what fans would speculate from his making a reference to his ex: “22?” Apparently deciding to just go for it, he briefly launched into a verse from the single’s chorus: “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling…” (Though the crowd burst into cheers, his cover unfortunately abruptly ended after that.

This isn’t the first time Styles publicly expressed his approval of the song: He also threw his fans into a frenzy on his 22nd birthday back in 2016, again making a direct reference to it by tweeting simply, “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22.”

His love for the song may seem a bit awkward, given that he and Swift dated from October of 2012 to January of 2013, a relationship most memorably memorialized in the paparazzi photos documenting their extremely public walk in Central Park. Since then, Styles has been the much-rumored subject of at least three songs on her subsequent album, 1989, including the not so subtly named “Style.” None are particularly bitter about their subject, though Swift did seem to express some of her not-so-positive memories of their fling when she once performed “Out of the Woods,” telling the crowd that it was about a relationship in which “the number-one feeling” she felt was anxiety. “Because it felt very fragile, it felt very tentative. And it always felt like, ‘Okay, what’s the next roadblock? What’s the next thing that’s gonna deter this? How long do we have before this turns into just an awful mess and we break up? Is it a month? Is it three days?'”

That sounds difficult, but it’s also not the worst reason for a relationship to end. And while he professed to not knowing for sure whether they were about him, in 2017, Styles told Rolling Stone that he’s “well aware” that “Style” and “Out of the Woods” are considered to be about their relationship, and that he’s, in fact, glad she wrote them. “I write from my experiences; everyone does that. I’m lucky if everything [we went through] helped create those songs. That’s what hits your heart. That’s the stuff that’s hardest to say, and it’s the stuff I talk least about,” he said.

Whether they’re about him isn’t even his biggest concern about the songs: “The issue is, she’s so good, they’re bloody everywhere,” he added, even continuing his praise when pressed: “She doesn’t need me to tell her they’re great. They’re great songs…It’s the most amazing unspoken dialogue ever.” He even thanked Swift for writing them: “In writing songs about stuff like that, I like tipping a hat to the time together. You’re celebrating the fact it was powerful and made you feel something, rather than ‘this didn’t work out, and that’s bad.’ And if you run into that person, maybe it’s awkward, maybe you have to get drunk…but you shared something. Meeting someone new, sharing those experiences, it’s the best shit ever. So thank you.”

Getting back to the present, Thea, the birthday girl who prompted the homage, afterward tweeted about the experience to her 20 or so followers. She also retweeted an extremely strange mash-up her friend made replacing Swift’s “22” with Styles’ extremely oddly voiced one that is definitely worth the six-second watch—even, it seems, for Styles and Swift, too.

[scraftyisthebest]

Thinking about the Explorers and the relationships between different members in the group, and the characters of the individuals ones we've met so far.

There's clearly a dichotomy between them and the Rising Volt Tacklers about how the Rising Volt Tacklers are a close knit and supportive group of people who take good care of each other and that is their strength, while the Explorers...really don't.

The above image is a very basic showcase of what the closest connections seem to be, but to elaborate a bit.

I think there are a select few characters among this group who are probably the most redeemable and present the clearest foils to the kids of the RVT, namely Liko. Those being Amethio, Coral/Sango, and Sidian/Onyx.

Amethio and Coral in particular don't seem to be inherently evil per se, but in different ways they seem to have underlying insecurities and problems that show themselves a lot, especially in contrast to Liko. Especially in the recent episode where Liko and Coral had a baking showdown. Liko won because she had experience, and notably she had her friends Roy, Dot, and Murdock cheering her on. Meanwhile Coral was alone and had no support, and yet it's clear she was genuinely trying and seemed to want to be recognized as someone who can do something. Sidian doesn't seem to be a particularly bad guy either.

Within the groups Amethio is pretty close with his two grunt subordinates Zirc and Onia while Coral and Sidian are close with each other specifically. Those are the closest they have to friends in their own groups.

Hamber and Chalce (Agate) are probably the closest to being adult figures for certain members of the group. Hamber takes very special care of Amethio, while Chalce is specifically close with Sidian and Coral where she's the one giving them orders and now is posing as a teacher and working with them specifically.

That said, for whatever reason that we don't fully understand, it seems Hamber and Chalce aren't particularly good at being the proper parental figures Amethio, Coral, and Sidian seem to need. Liko, Roy, and Dot are with the RVT and have so far been looked after by a very supportive group of adults in Friede alongside his buddies Orla, Mollie, Murdock, and Ludlow, all of who care about each other and have been great parental figures to the kids throughout their time with them. Diana, Liko's grandmother, also has a good relationship with Liko, which is also a contrast since Diana and Hamber were once friends. Meanwhile Hamber and Chalce are also pretty detached from each other as are the members they care for, the Hamber+Amethio+his goons and Chalce+Coral+Sidian sub-groups don't really like each other very much for whatever reason.

Which definitely raises some interesting questions about the dichotomy and contrast that seems to be presenting itself. Hamber and Chalce are admittedly interesting in different ways as they're the closest to being like the RVT adults in that they are serving a guardian role for certain other members but evidently aren't the adult figures Amethio and Coral truly need, or the support network they seem to need.

---

And yeah, Spinel is there on the right all by himself. I think it's quite obvious what his deal is. He does not care about anyone else in the group. He openly dislikes Amethio and admits to using Coral, Sidian, and Chalce for his own self-gain. He only cares about himself, and he's setting up to be the traitor and a big bad himself who's sucking up to Gibeon for the time being, but fully intends to backstab the group and try to overthrow Gibeon once they all stop being useful to him. He's the most straightforward purely evil villain character like Hunter J from DP.

A long ass ramble but some interesting notes I felt were fun to speculate about.

[aleksanderscult]

Analyzing "Demon in the Wood" (book) - Part 2

(Part 1, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5 btw)

Merry Christmas Eve and here have this meta to depress you cheer you up! 🥳🎁🎄🎅💕

Even though like calls to like he still was afraid of the darkness as a child.

And he didn't sleep for two days because of that fear.

And he was curled beneath his blanket 🥺

His mother didn't stop to think or ask if he needed light and be didn't want to disappoint her by saying "Can you leave it here?".

He wanted to prove to her and to himself that he's brave and he fears nothing.

No home to stay, no people to connect with.

Just with his mother, adopting new names every now and then, faking his life. And he despises this so much.

And yet Baghra dared to say "hE hAd PlEntY oF tImE tO LeArN hoW to LiE".

Yeah because he was raised on your knees, Baghra.

"They did their best to hide their tracks"

They were trying to leave nothing behind. As a child the Darkling was allowed to leave no trace, no memories of him in others.

And that reminds me: "Someone to mourn me"

Someone to remember him.

Also, it's notable that names are an important part of the Darkling's life.

- Adopted innumerable names as a child

- Held his true name close to his heart

- Kept saying Alina's name

- Trusted Alina with his name

- Refused to call Mal by his name

And I believe it was something important for him too because names were actually a vital part of his survival from the time he was born.

(So for anyone who says that he gave Alina his name out of some kind of manipulation technique, needs to stop. There's no way a person like him to give his name that easily).

The way they're thinking and hoping two different things.

Baghra hopes to gain knowledge and experience and Eryk a home and stability.

Their priorities really show their needs and characters at this point of their lives.

The way the Little Palace had all these three things 🥲

The thought of him waking up and thinking "Wait. Which name I go by now?" is so depressing and stressful. Both for Eryk and the reader.

I wonder if he really called her "Mama" at this point of his life or just Baghra with her usual grace said "You will call me by my name".

From this: "To him, she was always Mama, Madraya".

To this: "I will not fight you", said the Darkling.

"Then strike me down"

"You know I won't" 🥲

When Grisha fear and mistrust their own kind then you know that the situation is fucked up.

Baghra is extra careful 'cause she always had trust issues and made her son mistrustful as well.

It's really a dog-eat-dog world where every man is for himself and very few Grisha have made safe camps (actually the word "safe" is a stretch). And even when they do, they only let powerful Grisha to live inside.

Also, the phrase "a second Ravka" is kind of chilling. Ravka back then was divided between otkazat'sya who lived in the open and Grisha who lived in the shadows. Two different worlds and the Darkling became the first person who united them for the first time.

"Fear is a powerful ally" - DitW.

"Do you fear me, Alina?.... Fear is a powerful ally. And loyal." - Siege and Storm.

I can only imagine how many times the Darkling saw people either run away from him or wanted to use him because of his power. I bet he desired for someone to accept him as he is. To look at his shadow summoning and see it as a gift, not a curse or tool.

"I've seen what you truly are. And I've never turned away. I never will" is a phrase that he probably wanted to hear from someone too.

Wait. "Like calls to like", right? So when Aleksander was afraid of the dark, does that mean he was afraid of his powers in a way? *cries*

"Be careful what you wish for!🎶"

He tries so hard to impress his mother and live up to her expectations. That shows a child that is raised by a strict parent who almost always shows disapproval and is never satisfied with his efforts. Those children then feel constantly like failures.

(are you sad yet, dear readers?🥲)

What people cannot understand, they fear it. The unknown. The strange.

Baghra has been a pariah not only because of her powers but also because of her sex. So she had to toughen up and "hone" her sharp tongue too in order to make it difficult for others to boss her around or cast her out.

Sometimes I sympathize with her (but most of the times not😒).

To be honest, I find this fear kind of one-sided. I mean, Alina's power was unique too. No one else had the power to manipulate the light. And yet people liked her and were fascinated. But with Aleksander people were afraid of his power (even before he was the "Darkling"). So they showed acceptance with the power of light but not with the darkness.

Double fucking standards.🙂

(Of course they accepted her more easily because she was the one destined to liberate them from the Fold but still. Even if the Fold didn't exist, people would still show great favor towards Alina and not Aleksander.)

[carrotcakewriting]

Chapter Two

Hogwarts, Hagrid and Encounter Number Two

Masterlist

August 1993

It had taken a few days for Liz to prepare for Hogwarts. She spent most of the time with butterflies in her stomach, trying desperately not to overthink everything.

Every time she felt like backing out and continuing her quiet unassuming life, she held little Harry's photo in her hand and tried to find some courage. Perhaps she needed to channel her inner Gryffindor.

That was their thing, right?

In the end, she had four boxes and a suitcase. Her entire life was packed away neatly, sitting on the floor in front of her. It was an odd feeling.

The box of things she'd rather not think about right now, sat at the bottom of the pile unsealed as it had been for many years.

Biscuit knew something was happening; he had been pacing back and forth, tail wagging all day, and now he sat obediently beside Liz who was standing nervously by the front door. Dumbledore had said that he would be there soon, but each minute seemed like forever.

When the knock on the door finally came, both she and Biscuit jumped out of their skin, each bang sounding like thunder.

Hesitant, she reached forward for the door, eyes widening as behind it was revealed to be a very very large man. In fact, he was so large that Liz couldn't actually see anything of his face except for a huge black bushy beard.

Liz let out a squeak while Biscuit took the opposite approach of a low growl.

"Um, Hello?" Liz spluttered, moving backwards into her boxes.

"O' Hello!" The man crouched and peered in through the door, "Sorry 'bout that, it's a bit small, not sure I'll fit." He gestured to the size of the door frame. "And who's this?" The man asked, reaching a hand down to pat Biscuit's head.

"Oh, right." Liz nodded, eyes wide. "Right… uh-huh. Sorry but um… who are you?"

"O'right, sorry. Rubeus Hagrid at yer service."

He offered a large hand to her, and she almost unconsciously took it, her hand disappearing into his firm but warm handshake, her whole body moving along with the motion.

"Wait…" She said, head cocking to the side, "I know that name. You're the one who got Harry on the night of… well… you know." She trailed off awkwardly.

"Yeah, that was me!" He had a sombre look about him as he said, "Terrible business that, terrible." He shook his head bushy beard flowing back and forth.

"Well, thank you Rubeus, from what Dumbledore had said at the time, you were the best person for the job." She gave him a small smile, suddenly unsure of what to say.

"Oh, jus' call me Hagrid, everyone else does," He waved a hand, "Speaking of Dumbledore," Hagrid continued with notably more cheer, "He sent me here to help with your things! He got caught up with some Ministry business, Sirius Black and all that. A murderer like that on the loose! Isn't bare thinking about!" Hagrid must have noticed Liz's grimace as he hastened to add, "O' Course, we don't know- I mean we do, but well, not your fault… Not that anyone thought you knew-"

"It's okay Hagrid," She held a hand up, eager for the conversation to stop. She felt like crawling under her bedsheets. Part of her had hoped people had forgotten she existed. Obviously not.

"I mean honestly, I'm sure most people don't even know about the connection between you and… well him."

Liz smiled sadly, but said nothing, practically begging for the ground to open up and swallow her.

"Anyways…" Hagrid cleared his throat, and pointed behind her, "That all you have?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, that's my life in boxes," She chuckled awkwardly, "I didn't really see a reason to keep much stuff over the years, with the constant moving around."

"I don' have much m'self if I'm honest, but I prefer it that way." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch, handing it to Liz. "Dumbledore asked me to give this to you, say's he will meet you soon."

Liz opened the bag and raised an eyebrow at what looked like dust contained within. Then the realisation hit her, "Floo powder."

"Exactly. You, uh… remember how to use it?"

The unsure look of Hagrid made her question herself and answered, "I just throw some into the fire and say where I want to go right?"

"Exactly that! Dumbledore sure knows how to pick the best of the bunch, you must be a very smart muggle!"

"Thanks, Hagrid," She tried not to laugh, tapping her fingers off of the pouch, "What about you though? If you can't, um…" She awkwardly gestured to his large form unable to fit in through the door.

Hagrid waved her off, "Oh I'll go around the back, less likely to draw attention that way." Hagrid winked at her and Liz bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. She was more than certain that he had already drawn attention to himself, simply by being well… huge. But Liz chose to keep this point to herself.

"Uh okay." Liz awkwardly picked up her suitcase, clutching it in one hand and the pouch in the other, "I'll leave my boxes in your capable hands then?" She said it almost like an unassured question, this whole endeavour starting to make her stomach come alive with nerves once more.

"And your furry friend 'ere too. I'll get him to Hogwarts okay, get him some food and see if I can scrounge up a bed for him, and a bowl if you like?"

"That would be great Hagrid, thank you. His name is Biscuit, by the way," Liz smiled genuinely, feeling comforted by the large man's friendly demeanour. Now all she had to worry about was whether or not everyone else would be the same.

"And I can introduce him to Fang! He's my own, an' not as fearsome as he sounds, a big coward of a dog he is."

Liz laughed quietly. She took a deep breath in through her nose then looked down at Biscuit, "Well then… I'll see you soon boy. Be good for Hagrid." Biscuit looked up at her, tail wagging, "Hagrid where do I um… tell the fireplace to take me?"

"Jus' Professor Dumbledore's office."

"Right. Thanks." Hesitating for a moment she said, "well, um, see you soon then." Liz walked into the living room as Hagrid shouted a goodbye after her.

Her palms were sweaty as she stopped in front of the unused fireplace. She swallowed hard.

Well, here goes. It had been a long time since she travelled by floo. It felt as though she was doing it for the first time all over again.

Liz set her suitcase on the floor and opened the pouch. Taking a handful of floo powder, Liz tossed it into the fireplace shouting "Professor Dumbledore's office- Hogwarts."

She flinched back, eyes wide as the green flames rose in front of her.

"Right. Okay. I can do this." Liz took a deep breath, lifted her suitcase and stared down the fire.

As she took a step forward, she closed her eyes tight, fear rising despite knowing it would be painless.

As the green flames licked her limbs, she felt a whirling, like she was spinning fast and being pulled down through a tight pipe. She clutched her elbows tightly to her side and held her breath, determined not to inhale any soot.

And then she was there. Liz shook her head free of dust and stood straighter as she took in the room, trying to rid herself of the sick feeling the brief trip had given her. She was quite thankful she had skipped breakfast.

Dumbledore's office looked much the same as it had the one other time she had been there. Liz smiled softly at the memories but quickly pushed them aside.

Now was not the time for nostalgia.

The air felt different here. Like magic.

As she wandered around the office taking in the bits and bobs, the curious moving portraits which made her jump when they spoke, the devices she couldn't name, the giant bird that cocked its head at her, she couldn't help it:

The excitement began filling her veins and suddenly she was a teenager again, running hand in hand through the halls of the castle with the man she loved. She had been filled with hope for the future.

What happened to that girl?

Liz took a seat in front of a large desk and set her case by her feet, eyes raking over the area, landing on the bird.

No -

The Phoenix.

It still watched her with interest, but Liz couldn't feel any wariness radiating from him. He seemed as smart as any human. He was beautiful. Feathers of red and gold sat perfectly along his body, which was as big and graceful as a swan.

"You must be Fawkes," Liz said, and the Phoenix almost seemed to bow at her in return. The gesture made her light up with child-like wonder, "Albus has told me a lot about you. Or at least, he has when I pestered him with questions. We don't have phoenixes in the muggle world. I do have a dog, Biscuit- that's his name I mean. He doesn't really like birds, he always chases them…but I promise not to let him chase you."

It was then that Liz realised she had been rambling to a bird, who merely blinked and fluttered his feathers.

Hmm… maybe she did need more human interaction if this is how easy it is for her to have a one-sided conversation with an animal.

"I'm just going to pretend you understood all that."

"Oh I can assure you, he did." Dumbledore closed the door behind him as he entered his office, eyes twinkling as he made his way over to Liz.

Dumbledore sat opposite Liz behind the desk, "Apologies I couldn't collect you myself, I only just returned from the ministry. Hagrid found you alright?"

"Oh yes, he is… hard to miss."

Dumbledore smiled knowingly, "If there is one thing you should be reassured by Elizabeth, it's that Hagrid will always be there if you need a friend. There is no one quite as loyal."

"I'll keep that in mind," She smiled softly picking at her nails. "Now that I'm here I almost don't know what to do with myself." "Well, this is the ideal time to arrive and get settled in. Most of the other professors are off enjoying their holidays elsewhere so the castle will be relatively quiet for the next week or so before they begin arriving for the new term."

"Oh… that's good."

Very good, Liz could only deal with one thing at a time and trying to adjust to her new home as well as meet a whole bunch of new people was not particularly appealing to her.

She twisted her mouth in thought, "...Will Remus also be arriving early?"

She waited in anticipation and Dumbledore cocked his head.

"No, no. He will be arriving at the beginning of the term with the students."

"Right, right." She nodded.

"It will all be okay Liz, you're not alone."

"I know," She nodded again, smiling down at her lap and watching her fingers twist around each other.

She could feel Dumbledore's thoughtful gaze on her and looked up when he spoke, "Why don't I show you to your lodgings?"

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you."

The walk to her new room wasn't long. Dumbledore rattled on about the school and classes, and Liz was finding it very hard to listen unable to take her eyes off of the grand surroundings.

It was even more impressive than she remembered. The warm summer light flooded through the large glass windows, a yellow glow giving the stone walls a comforting feeling. The ceilings were so tall and their footsteps echoed in her ears. She was in awe of just how old the place felt, the air of majesty that it exuded was immense and Liz couldn't quite believe she was going to live here.

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Her. A Muggle.

She peeked into each room she passed, feeling almost childlike glee at the small hints of magic that lay hidden behind the closed doors.

Liz almost barrelled into Dumbledore as he came to a stop.

"Oh, sorry." She said rather bashful.

He gave her a knowing look, "I'm beginning to think I shall leave you to enjoy yourself for a few days, and once Professor McGonagal returns from her holiday she can help you in preparing some lessons. "

"Oh right, yes," She laughed quietly, "Sorry, it's just so hard not to get distracted by all of this." She gestured to the ceiling above her.

"Ah," Said Dumbledore, nodding in agreement, "I agree, there is nowhere quite like Hogwarts. It continues to astound me in its beauty, even after all these years." Dumbledore hummed, then gestured to the door they had stopped in front of, "This is all yours. You will find all you will need inside, and I'm sure Hagrid will arrive with your things soon enough. He will leave it all in your quarters, just down there." He gestured down the hall, "Please make yourself at home, rearrange the rooms to your liking and you need only ask if there is anything you require." Dumbledore held out a set of keys to her.

Liz accepted them, nodding without thought, almost overwhelmed by his words. "Thank you."

Dumbledore smiled kindly and nodded once. Hands behind his back and humming a tune, Dumbledore wandered away, leaving Liz alone outside the wooden door, the mystery of what was lying behind it calling to her.

It was strange, the feeling she had at that moment. For many years no,w she hadn't settled in any one place, never allowed herself to properly have a home, make a place her own. And yet Dumbledore had handed her the opportunity for a new life all hidden behind this final barrier, and all she had to do was take the leap.

Liz clutched the handle of her suitcase and stepped toward the door. Trying the biggest key, she slipped it into the keyhole and turned it with a faint click.

She took a deep breath. And then clutched the door handle.

The door opened with a creak.

Before her, was a small room filled with shelves of various objects, seemingly broken and dusty, lit only by the light shining through the door behind her. Moving further in Liz realised they were old muggle objects as though it was some sort of showroom. It almost made her giggle to see that a dirty toaster was being displayed as though it was a prize piece of art. Though clearly, the place had fallen into a sort of disrepair. She jumped slightly as the candles on the walls came to life, a low golden glow illuminating the objects.

On the right wall, there was another door and after one more quick look around she headed over to it, trying the keys once more until she found the correct one. Behind this door lay a classroom, various tables and chairs stacked and pushed to the side, a blackboard in the middle of the room and a short set of stairs just in sight in the back left corner.

There were two small windows against the left wall, with the rest of the room being enclosed. It had the potential to be cosy, Liz decided. She walked over to a worn but sturdy desk which sat at the front of the room and ran her hand over the wood,

Over her desk.

The drawers and cupboards in the room were relatively empty, with only a few quills, parchment and random muggle objects littering the place.

After aquainting herself with the classroom, she wawlked back out the door and into the corridor. She walked down to where Dumbledore had gestured and behind the third door along was her living quarters. Small but light, there was a bed with sheets already on and blankets made up. Against the wall there was a single wardrobe and set of drawers for her clothes, and in the corner by a window which looked over the lake was a patchy, comfy armchair and an empty bookshelf.

Liz opened a window to air out the place, the sounds of chirping birds filling the space.

She sat on the bed, fingers gliding over the sheets.

It was so peaceful.

She flopped back onto the mattress, desperately trying to push down a smile, not wanting to get her hopes up that things could stay this good. They never did for her.

And for the first time in a long time, Liz truly felt at ease.

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

The place was dusty.

Liz very much doubted that anyone had been here since the end of the previous school year. After unpacking what little clothes she had, Liz got to work in the classroom, rearranging the desks and chairs into neat rows. She straightened the desk, brought the blackboard to the front and cleared out the drawers and cupboards.

She made a quick list of things she wanted to request from Dumbledore whenever she got up the courage and was eager to get her stuff from Hagrid, who was still yet to appear. She could really do with her little radio right now.

She hoped Biscuit was okay.

Liz took a better look around the showroom of muggle objects, making a mental note to ask if she had to keep what was on display.

Some of it looked pretty grim…

She was already coming up with ideas of what she could replace them with before reigning herself in. She didn't want to get ahead of herself.

Soon, Liz stood in the middle of the classroom, hands on her hips and observing what would soon be a room filled with her students. Where she would sit at the desk, marking work or writing on the blackboard as she taught about the ways of muggle life.

Her stomach exploded with nerves of both excitement and terror. Liz had long since given up on her pursuit of becoming a teacher, and now here she was, thrust back into that life a decade later.

Looking around the empty room, Liz tapped her foot. What to do? Perhaps she would go and look for Hagrid herself?

She needed to leave the silence, it was giving her too much room to think.

Liz left the room and went into one of the first-floor corridors. She felt almost out of place, like she was once again sneaking around somewhere she shouldn't be, going to get caught at any moment.

She began walking along the corridor back the way she had come with Dumbledore, towards a set of stairs which they had passed. Liz let her hand slide along the smooth marble bannister as she made her way down to the ground floor, eyes unable to stop roaming over every inch of what was before her.

She came into the entrance hall, as big as a house and so tall the ceiling felt a lifetime away. Huge Oak doors lay open opposite her, leading to the grounds outside, and to the side, another set of doors led into the relatively empty Great Hall. Against one wall, there were four giant hourglasses, each assigned a different gem which filled the top bulb of the glass to the brim - Rubies, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds. They were beautiful. Liz was unsure of what these were for other than relating to the school's houses in some way, given that the names were by their designated hourglass.

Liz turned to peek into the Great Hall when she almost collided with someone.

"Oh!" Liz stepped back in surprise, taking in the woman in front of her, "...Hello."

She didn't mean to stutter and stare, honestly. The woman was just so strange that she couldn't help it. Her eyes were bug-like thanks to the magnification of her glasses. She wore an ugly shawl draped around her shoulders and was decked out in bangles and beads.

She looked like a cheap fortune teller you would see at a fair.

Her huge eyes blinked at Liz, arms clutching food and a bottle of sherry to her chest protectively. "Who are you?" She demanded in a strangely mysterious tone.

"Uh- oh, I'm Liz. I'm the new Muggle-Studies teacher." Liz almost reached out to shake her hand out of politeness but the woman was giving her such an odd and wary look that she decided against it. "Do you also teach here?" She asked instead.

The woman drew herself up and declared in an all too dramatic way "Who sent you?! I will not share my secrets, no matter what you say!"

She hadn't listened to a word Liz had said.

"You can't fool me, imposter! I knew you were going to be coming, I saw it in my dreams three moons ago." She stomped past Liz heading toward the stairs, "It won't happen!" She declared and swooped away up the stairs, shawl flowing behind her as she disappeared around the corner.

"Wow." Liz said out loud, wishing there was anyone else around to have witnessed the interaction so she knew she hadn't imagined it. The smell of the woman's strong perfume lingered in the air, so strong it made Liz's nose wrinkle and she turned away from the Great Hall and decided to make the outdoors her next destination.

She breathed in the clear summer air and walked along the courtyards and gardens. She peeked into the greenhouses the insides teeming with life. Liz admired the owls which flew above her head through the sky as she made her way down to the lake, the blue shining in the sunlight.

Liz smiled in awe at the giant squid lazily swimming from one end to another.

She knew it was real. She hadn't dreamt it. Sometimes it felt like she invented the whole thing.

Finding a nice shady tree, Liz sat beneath it and enjoyed the serene scene before her; gentle lapping of water and birds chirping. The echos of past laughs which had filled the area filled her head, and as she looked out across the beautiful view, head leaning on her hands, Liz couldn't help the gentle smile of happier times, wishing, despite everything that had happened since, she could go back to that day and never leave.

—-

It turned out that someone as big as Hagrid had a relatively small hut for a home. It was the sight of Biscuit running around by the pumpkin patch that drew Liz's attention, though she was wary of approaching the dark forest that lay not far behind them.

She didn't like forests. Not anymore.

"I left all yer stuff in the classroom jus'," Hagrid said, pouring her a cup of tea." The door was open, so I was thinking you would be there."

Liz shuffled in the overly large armchair, sinking further into it, "Yes, sorry, I decided to take a walk and got side-tracked. Thank you," She accepted the huge mug (that she could barely hold in her hands) with a smile.

"O' don' apologise," Hagrid waved her off, dropping down into the chair opposite, his own mug in hand. "How do you like it? Hogwarts I mean."

"It's brilliant Hagrid," She said rather shyly, feeling like a child. She grinned into her tea, "I feel like I'm going to wake up from a dream at any moment."

Hagrid beamed at her delight. "And you're settling in okay? No problems with your room or-?"

"Oh no!" She waved a hand swallowing her tea, "it will all do me just fine, I'm not one to complain. I am rather nervous though… I've never taught at a school before," She looked up cautiously, waiting to see Hagrid's shock and dismay that Dumbledore would allow someone so underqualified to teach at a school such as Hogwarts. She stuttered on, "I mean- I did train… it was a long time ago, but- um…" She trailed off, biting the inside of her cheek.

Hagrid was beaming and leaned forward. Liz held her breath.

"I'll let you in on a secret then. It's my firs' time teaching this year too!"

Liz's eyes widened and she too leaned forward, "Really? What are you teaching?"

Hagrid looked rather proud when he announced, "Alongside being the Keeper of Keys for Hogwarts, I will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Dumbledore as'ed me himself!" Hagrid looked quite serious as he looked down, "An' I don't want to disappoint him. He put his trust in me. I can' let him down!"

Liz felt her chest lighten, "I know exactly what you mean Hagrid! So much responsibility! And he asked me! What is the man thinking!"

"We best not question it. I've never don' anything like this in me life!"

"I'm sure you'll be brilliant Hagrid. And at least we can help each other out since we're in the same boat and all."

"O' that would be great! Though, I'm not sure how much help I can be when it comes to Muggles…"

"Honestly, Hagrid, you not knowing anything is more helpful than you might think. It means I have someone to help me figure out what to teach young witches and wizards!"

"Well, then, I'm happy to be of service!"

And they sipped their tea together, chatting well into the evening.

It was the longest Liz had spoken to someone since she couldn't remember when, and she found to her surprise, once she pushed back the awkward shyness, she very much enjoyed it.

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

Summer 1975

Age 15

"Oi! Oi Prongs." Sirius hit the back of James's head with his palm.

"Ow!" James scowled rubbing a hand carefully along his head, "Watch it."

"I barely touched you."

"What do you want?" James went back to observing the back of the book he held in his hand, "Do you think Lily will like this?"

"Buying her books again are you?" Sirius asked dryly, eyes still watching the girl across the store whose nose was in a book, tongue poking out in concentration. She was mousey, lanky and ungraceful, hiding behind her fringe. It was definitely her, the girl who gave him that sweet thing.

"It's a book shop Sirius, a muggle bookshop, what the hell did you think I was going to get?"

"Won't lie to you mate, I stopped listening once you brought up Lily, it's sort of an unconscious thing I do now."

"Ha ha." James put the book down and walked to a different shelf. He stood with his hands on his hips, appraising the over-the-top Harlequin romance covers.

Sirius gave him an incredulous look and barked a laugh, "Don't think that's her kind of thing pal."

"Yes, well you're no help at all dickhead. I should have asked Remus to come."

Sirius baulked, "As if he has more romantic experience than me!" He gave James a winning toothy smile.

James rolled his eyes, walking away in frustration.

Sirius's eyes drew back to the girl who was now looking up high on one of the shelves.

"Prongs, who's that?" He nodded to the girl hand on James's shoulder. His friend barely looked over at who Sirius was referring to.

"Some Muggle girl I'd guess, how should I know?" He shrugged, "Oi where are you going?" He said as Sirius walked away from him and toward the girl.

Liz stood on her tiptoes reaching with all her might to the book just out of reach of her finger tips. Her cheeks were red and her brow furrowed in frustration. She should have just asked the person at the counter, but every time she went to step toward them nerves flared and she turned back to trying herself. After all she wouldn't want to bother anyone.

Clutching a book in one hand, her finger tips brushed against the edge of the book when a voice sounded close behind her.

"Need a hand?"

Spooked at the sudden intrusion in her peace Lizzy whipped around hand flying without thought and the book hit its mark right on her targets face.

"Ow!" The boy clutched his nose, "What the hell?" He whined.

"Oh God," Lizzy spluttered hand reaching forward, "I'm so sorry. I- well just… you scared me, I didn't mean-"

She trailed off looking down at her feet as another boy approached in hysterics, unable to stop the loud gauffing which drew many annoyed looks.

"Padfoot! What are you doing attacking young women!" The dark haired boy pushed his glasses up his nose and threw his arm over the injured one beside him, "I am so sorry young lady, my friend here is a bit deranged, can barely take him anywhere these days!"

"Shut up James!"

"I… I'm really sorry!" Lizzy continued to look down, cheeks burning.

"Hey it's fine!" Sirius said through gritted teeth, trying his best to not grimace, "I shouldn't have snuck up on you."

James titled his head eyes narrowing, "Lizzy?"

Lizzy looked up at her name, eyes widening slightly, "Oh… hello."

"Ah, I thought that was you! Haven't seen you in years."

"Well, you're always away to school, really." Lizzy shuffled giving an awkward smile.

"Wait, you two know each other?" Sirius asked quickly.

"Huh?" James looked around, "Oh yeah, she lives near us."

"Well," Lizzy said clutching her book to her chest, "not right near you, a few streets away. And we haven't really spoken since we were small." She felt so awkward.

"Yet you still remember me! I must be unforgettable." James flashed her a winning smile and Lizzy blushed looking away.

Sirius frowned, "You remember me too right?"

James and Lizzy gave him a confused look.

"Eh?"

Lizzy shook her head, "Sorry, I don't think we've met have… we…" She trailed off.

Then her cheeks exploded with heat.

It took her a minute to remember, it was a thirty second encounter at most and it ended with her running away, but now that she really took in the handsome boy before her, it was hard to forget that face, even if she only got a brief glimpse of it.

"Ha! See you do remember me!" Sirius looked quite pleased and James gave him an incredulous look.

"What are you talking about? How could you have met?"

"The day I arrived. If I remember correctly, you were staring at me." Sirius winked at Lizzy.

"Oh no… well yes I suppose I was, though I didn't mean to of course- It's just you looked pretty upset and I didn't know whether or not to…"

"I mean I wasn't that upset."

"You were kicking grass."

"You must be remembering someone else."

"Um…" Lizzy was very confused indeed. The boy in front of her now- whose name she still did not know- looked much more cocky and outgoing than he did before when he was brooding and snappy. She wasn't sure that she liked either version. "...Okay."

She really didn't want him to snap at her again.

Sirius frowned again. Usually, girls melt at the sight of a wink and a grin from him, but this one looked like she wanted to get as far away as possible.

"Hey, I wanted to thank-" Sirius was cut off as James pushed him away with a hand to the face.

"Anyways," James drawled on, and Sirius scowled at his head, "Forget about him. Lizzy, you're a girl and a … well normal."

"Uh, thanks I guess?"

"What I mean to say is, what kind of books do you like to read?"

"Why?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, "He wants to buy a girl a book. Pretty lame if you ask me." he said with a smirk.

Lizzy clutched the book tighter to her, brows furrowed, "I don't know, seems like a nice gift, to me."

James clapped his hands together, "See, I knew you could help me."

"Well… I don't know about that, people have different tastes." Liz shrugged.

"Well she's like beautiful and smart. Firey personality for sure but is also really kind. Though not to me, but I think she's beginning to like me."

Sirius watched him gush in disgust and Lizzy looked positivley awkward.

She kicked the ground, speaking before James could continue, "Well does she like Classics? Like Jane Austen?"

"Who?"

"Jane…Austen?" Liz felt confused by the blank looks the boys were giving her.

Sirius blinked and then said "I love Jane Aston."

"Austen…"

"Right, that's what I meant."

"What are you doing?" James muttered, but Sirius ignored him.

"Oh!" Lizzy blinked.

"You look surprised," Sirius smirked again.

"Well," Lizzy pushed some hair behind her ear, "You didn't seem the type to read those kinds of books." She said sheepishly, "what's your favourite?"

Sirius put his hands on his hips and dramatically blew out a breath, "So many good ones, I wouldn't know what to choose." He desperately scoured the shelves looking for the name.

"I suppose that's true. My favourite is Persuasion."

"Ah, good choice." Sirius nodded firmly as though he had a clue what she was talking about.

Lizzy gave him a soft genuine smile from under her fringe and Sirius blinked. Were his hands getting sweaty?

"Should I get her that one then?" James interupted, much to Sirius' annoyance.

"Hmm, how about Pride and Prejudice?" Lizzy wandered over to a different area of the shop and came back, book in hand. "Here you go." She held it out to James.

"Awk Liz, you really are the best." James put a hand to his heart dramatically drawing out a small giggle from Lizzy, who shook her head.

"My name is Sirius, by the way."

"Huh?" Liz glanced at James again.

"Sirius."

"Serious?"

James snorted trying to smother his laughter.

"No, Sirius. S."

"Oh, I see… That's…"

"Pretentious?" James offered.

Sirius pushed him away saying, "Noble."

"Right…" Liz shuffled, looking very much as though she was going to leave.

"Do you like flims?" Sirius blurted out.

"Sorry?"

"You know… flims?" Sirius said, ignoring James looking at him as though he had two heads.

Lizzy shook her head, giving James a look as if to say 'is your friend alright?' before continuing "No, sorry. Don't think I know what that is."

James snorted.

"Anyway…" Lizzy said, "I should go. Good luck with your gift." then she was gone before either boy could say a thing.

"FLIMS!" James cackled.

"That's what they are! Those things Muggles watch on those screens!"

"Those are FILM'S you idiot."

"Oh."

"Oof, how embarrassing for you."

"Shut up!"

"I swear Padfoot, I've never seen you so flustered. I like it, it's a nice change. And over a muggle girl no less! What are you turning into?"

"I hate you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Come help me figure out how to pay with Muggle money because I have no clue."

[cielgram]

The lights flicker on and off. The familiar buzzing of a lightbulb resounds on your ears as your eyes adjust to the light.

CIELGRAM - JACKALOPE'S "SECOND TRIAL COMMENCEMENT NOTICE" BEGINS NOW.

Good morning, Warden Key. I'm assuming you had a nice sleep? I would hope that's the case.

… Hm? A nightmare? I apologise about that. I suppose the first trial took a bit of a toll on you.

Speaking of which… Your awakening means the start of the second trial. Although… I guess I never really explained something crucial… … Now, now. Don't look at me like that. Even a few details escape my mind. I'll explain right away.

After the first trial… The prisoners were treated in accordance to whether they were FORGIVABLE or UNFORGIVABLE. That is to say, those found INNOCENT were given slightly more freedom. Look. You'll notice some of their restraints have loosened up. Conversely, those found GUILTY have been… Restrained, so to say. A harder existence, so they can atone for their sins and reflect more upon it. That being said… They have not really been… Excessively punished. At least by me personally. Their freedom of thought is still left intact. Unfortunately… This has caused a few things that… I wasn't really able to interfere in.

… None of them resulted in death, Key. You can stop looking at me like that.

Sigh… I guess a status report would be better. Very well.

Prisoner #O1: Ueno Kei.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, their ideas were affirmed.

Because their ideals were affirmed… They've found even more comfort in a bit of… Self expression. Dare I say, they've been finding themselves more comfortable on their own skin?

I would say it slightly attributes to #O6 also helping around… But we'll get to her later. That being said… #O1 has also become somewhat… Self-centered? Earnestly throwing away the opinions of others. I'd say good for them, if I didn't find that mentality somewhat unhealthy.

Prisoner #O2: Hanakawa Aya.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, her ideas were affirmed.

Much like #O1, Aya has become somewhat more expressive. Almost as if she has thrown caution to the wind. Well… More specifically… She seems far more cheerful. Almost as if she has returned to her idol persona. Although… She definitely seems more genuine than before? I'm… Unsure of what to make of this.

Prisoner #O3: Hoshino Shuu.

Your judgement was GUILTY, and thus, his ideas were denied.

Although… Saying his ideas were denied is a bit of a stretch? If anything… It seems more like he's doubled down on them. Feeling exceedingly nervous and trying to make sure he's becoming "better". It's gotten to a point where he'll often practice and… Injure himself, due to the restraints not allowing him to move as much. It's a sad spectacle.

Prisoner #O4: Minoharu Tentou.

Your judgement was GUILTY, and thus, it's ideas were denied.

#O4 has… Definitely become more hostile towards others. Although not as badly as #O9. …No. Rather, I'd say it's become spiteful? Cursing the prison's system rather than you as an individual. That being said, #O4 is one of the few that has become apprehensive towards #O6. To them, it appears camaraderie is just some sort of trick.

Prisoner #O5: Takahashi Minoru.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, his ideas were affirmed.

#O5's change… How do I explain it…

It seems like #O5 has… Become extremely complacent with MILGRAM. Almost to a scary degree. I don't really know how to word this correctly? But he's become far friendler and a massive people pleaser. Most notably, it seems like he's also established some sort of coodependency with #O6. Of course, #O6 has taken herself to try to help everyone… But #O5 seems the most attached to her. Speaking of which…

Prisoner #O6: Dokugamori Satsuki.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, her ideas were affirmed.

#O6 has decided to take her role as a "good girl" pretty seriously. Trying to be the prison's "moral support" or "healer" in a sense. Of course, she seems to be dismissive to those who reject her. That being said… I can't really make sure that's entirely the case. Well… At least she's kept people from extremely freaking out over #O8's attacks. … Huh? What do I mean? I'll talk about it in a bit. For now, let me continue with the status report.

Prisoner #O7: Mochizuki Hikaru.

Your judgement was GUILTY, and thus, their ideas were affirmed.

Sigh… I wish I could say their ideas were denied. But it looks like they were looking forward to this. I don't think I can understand them. That being said… #O7 seems… Awfully sturdy. Guess those supposed years of delinquency paid off.

#O7, though not as badly battered as #O3, has been shielding those who were guilty from #O8's attacks. That being said, they also didn't seem to attack back. Guess they feel like they're above hurting a child.

Prisoner #O8: Inaba Rika.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, her ideas were affirmed.

I assume I don't have to repeat what I said before, right? Childhood innocence can be terrifying if left unchecked.

#O8 has decided to take her role as a hero quite seriously. She even managed to get a metal pipe to use between trials.

Of those who you said were UNFORGIVABLE, #O8 attacked #O3, #O9, and #O7. As stated earlier, #O7 taking the vast majority of blows. It doesn't seem like she was… Fully content with it though. Maybe it's the fact she saw #O3 and #O7 as sources of comfort before. Or maybe it could also be attributed to #1O's intervention. Her feeling conflicted doesn't seem to change much however. She still seems willing to enact her so called "justice".

Prisoner #O9: Itsuki Umi.

Your judgement was GUILTY, and thus, his ideas were denied.

You might call it a much needed wake up call. He definitely has taken a knock off his pedestal, and treating others a bit more…. Equally. Best example of this is #1O. …That being said… I'd argue it might have felt like the change was quite abrupt for him. He's definitely become more… Defensive. Hostile. Like a small kicked dog. That's not to mention periods of time where he seems to…. Zone off. Even I am conflicted. I did not think someone could fall this low in the span of one trial.

Finally… Prisoner #1O: Yoru Makoto.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, her ideas were…. Hm.

I'm not sure whether to say they've been affirmed or denied. Dare I say… She's doing more of her own thing. Helping others in a different way. Most notably, she's been trying to calm down #O9 as best as she can, and even intervened every time #O8 was about to hit him. And yet… It feels as if she's given away her own free will. She's become more of a puppet than anything.

Thus, concludes the status report on the prisoners. As you can see… Just their veredicts were enough to drastically change things. Their relationships, their mindsets, and so on. Ah. Worry not. Fighting will not be allowed throughout the duration of the trials.

Haa… I can see this being quite troubling, however.

That being said… You have more plans on how to vote, right? MILGRAM allows for many reasons to vote someone INNOCENT or GUILTY as your basis. …Though…

It would be dissapointing to see you vote based on what's best for everyone. These people are first and foremost murderers after all. Even the smallest change can have massive ripple effects.

Just because you think someone could be more benefitial… That doesn't ensure that they'll actually be in the way you expect. Humans are complicated and unpredictable, after all.

Ahem… Withthis information in mind… I hope you can continue judging without too many problems.

Do not waver. We're counting on you, Key.

Let CIELGRAM: The Second Trial…

…Begin.

[lunayuu]

Seen In Shadows: Part 1

BNHA fanfic that I have yet to give a proper title, despite the fact I have not engaged with canon in ages - leave me alone the world is too interesting to not write about ok... ALSO go look at @written-in-the-clouds's work because they did completely inspire me to even start writing again - props to them!

more credit: divider made by @strangergraphics-archive, this post being where I got it from!

Ao3 Work Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | X

What's In Your Future?

Izumiwa Yori was a man who did not particularly like to get involved with people outside of his circle. A circle that was very small and contained mostly online friends (and clients). This was something he was starkly reminded of about himself as he promptly tuned out the noise around him via the thick headphones he usually kept around his neck. His middle school class was cheering about all going off to be heroes, something that Yori couldn’t exactly disagree with, even if he was planning on staying far away from the limelight (he’s never dealt well with too much attention, no matter the source).

He didn’t know the name of the guy that was currently being yelled at by the resident class disruptor, Bakugou. Something starting with a ‘Ma’, he was pretty sure. Thanks to the headphones covering his ears, he couldn’t actually hear what was being said, but of course, his Quirk just had to act up and inform him directly of what was going on.

Bakugou Katsuki is angry at Midoriya Izuku for wanting to apply for UA High’s hero course. Bakugou is only angry due to him feeling horridly inferior to Midoriya, and wanting to prove that he’s better than someone he views as “weak”. The teacher is content to ignore it due to the immense Quirkism within the school, something that has never been investigated by authorities as-

Oh, so that was his name. Yori had completely forgotten, Midoriya tended to fade into the background more often than not, and as such had completely passed by Yori’s radar. The only notable thing about him was that he was Quirkless, something that caused Yori to feel bad for the poor thing, not because he was Quirkless, it’s not like Yori was prejudiced against Quirkless people, but the abuse from people like Bakugou was something Yori saw to really weigh on him. He wished he could help Midoriya properly, but the most he could do was try to flag it with the teachers, but judging by how no adult was doing anything about Bakugou’s unlicensed Quirk use, much less his bullying and Quirkism, Yori doubted anything would really happen.

As he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, Yori’s thoughts stayed on Midoriya, he resolved to talk to him at some point this week, hopefully being friends with someone with a neutral-to-positive enough reputation would keep people like Bakugou from hounding the guy. His silence was, however, broken by a notification ringing in his ears through his headphones. Pulling out his phone in a way he automatically Knew was missed by the teacher (and any potential snitches in the class), he saw that there was numerous messages from one of his central clients, and someone he thought of as a quite good friend, in their shared server for Yori’s small collection of his friends. Unlocking his phone, he started reading what he missed from a good few hours prior.

-

vampire^v^ Today at 11:21 hii guys!!! ＼(≧▽≦)／ how is everyone???

LivingLies Today at 11:22 Doing well, work is as dull as ever, sadly.

iceboy Today at 11:22 Hello, all. I’m home sick from school today, ha.

vampire ^v^ Today at 11:22 ooooooh luckkyyyyy (￣＾￣) also rude

copycat Today at 11:23 still in class. good luck with work lies!

Erased Today at 11:24 focus on your education, cat.

vampire ^v^ Today at 11:24 laammeeee erased ⋋_⋌ let him talk!!!!

Erased Today at 11:25 no.

vampire ^v^ Today at 11:25 (⋋▂⋌)

-

Yori smiled down at his phone, content that his friends were also amicable with each other. He glanced at the other messages he had yet to read, deciding promptly to ignore the messages from his clients asking for more information, he could handle all of that when he went home and out of the public eye.

Yori pocketed his phone again and looked at the form that he felt would set his future in stone as whatever he wrote on the flimsy printer paper. He filled out a name that was not his on the top (he was still seen as she when not online under ‘Apollo’, he planned to rectify that in high school, whatever one he ended up in, but for now he could get by just fine, he was sure of it) and stared at the next prompt: ‘Quirk:’.

See, Yori was one of the surprisingly few people in Japan to technically have more than one Quirk. The reason behind it wasn’t too complex as, from what he knew (and he Knew a lot), Yori had the ‘luck’ to have a Quirk more linked to his immediate family that was, on a genetic level, expressed weaker than normal, and as such, a dominant Quirk gene from many, many generations ago that Yori was still mildly surprised about it even being in his genome appeared his phenotype to make up for the less active gene, something about incomplete dominance meaning that most family members on his mother’s side had something linked to Knowing things, but was overall weak enough that other Quirks completely overshadowed them.

The Ishikawa family had prided themselves on having Quirks based entirely around light for at least 3 generations now (this included his generation, the light based aspect of his family’s Quirks only came about from his father’s mother, but they still acted like it had been around for a lot longer). It was expected by this point that at least one family member would not have a light Quirk, but the opposite, some similarly latent gene signalling to invert the effects of the inherited Quirk, it something a younger Yori thought was cool as all hell. However, the only people in the family to have darkness based Quirks in the family had all passed, his grandfather and his uncle (both paternal in relation) were people he never got to meet properly outside of a few interactions that he was far too young to form lasting memories about. And as such didn’t have any real people around him to help him learn how to use the Quirk that made him the, no pun intended, black sheep of the family.

Yori shook his head, trying to get rid of the sinking feeling that he was lying (something that always made him feel a bit nauseous, a side effect that he blamed his non-shadowy Quirk for) and put down ‘ShadowStep’ on the form, writing in the next line under ‘Description of Quirk:’ that it allowed him to travel where he liked within an area of about 24km that was sufficiently dark. Pointedly leaving out the minor omniscience his other Quirk somehow gave him (Yori has wondered many times just how that Quirk functions, but for all the Knowledge it gave, the Quirk didn’t give him an answer.)

As for the central part of the form, he knew what he would put already. Thoughts drifting to the many, many clients he had received and forum posts made both by and about him over the years that he had been doling out information, he knew by now that it was a no-brainer. While being less well known it was still useful to apply for, even if it was so utterly down-low he Knew he would most likely be the only candidate, as it was something that played to all his strengths, something that would be immensely beneficial to not just him, but all those around him as well (while he couldn’t Know the future, he was pretty sure that he was right).

Yori wrote on the form: “UA Hero Course – Analysis Track”

(Trying not to pop up in any other fandom's tags is very important. to me. so umm awkward censoring go brrr)

I did completely steal the formatting of chat messages from Discordance, a [Archive] ft [Archive] Fandom fic that was written in 2020, and as such references current events from 2020 quite often - it's such a good fic though <3<3

And more [Archive] fandom stealing, the whole thing about ShadowStep (a) will be explored properly soon and (b) IS just stolen from Redeath, Cyäegha my beloved <3<3<3<3