#they're canon your honour!!

[velidewrites]

Cassian: *reading a newspaper* Headline: BREAKING: The Night Court's spymaster and Eris Vanserra reportedly spotted in gay bar Cassian: Okay? "Fork spotted in kitchen?" Come on now

[14dayswithyou]

Wait that spicy videos ask tho? 😳 can i be shameless in ur inbox for a lil…

100% consensual obvs but UMM—

Angel cockwarming [REDACTED] while he's working and he knows they're getting impatient. But instead of giving them what they want he pulls up one of the more… intimate recordings on another monitor to keep them distracted with, sound on and everything. 

Still going about his business, but occasionally taunting them, whispering in their ear and holding their chin to make sure they watch themselves getting fucked silly in the video.

"You make the most desperate face here."

"This is my favorite part."

"Imagine how amazing that’ll feel if y’just be good and keep waiting, Angel.”

hehehe >:3c

✦゜ANSWERED: CRYINGGGGG NOT THEIR 📯🦵 ASS HAVING THE ENTIRE VIDEO MEMORISED..... T_T /pos

Lots of NSFW under the cut!!

"Y'make the most lewd sound here... Listen." >>>> As he makes you look at the video while pulling you flush against his hips. Probably tries to see if he can recreate that sound as well while he has you sitting nice and snug in his lap.

"Look at how good y'look on my cock. You were practically droolin', angel. You must really like bein' stuffed full, huh?" Cue his smug ass looking down to see if you're making the exact same expression. If not, then they're immediately rocking their hips and gently sucking at the base of your neck.

"My personal cocksleeve always does such a good job. But Y'already know that, don't you? 'Course you do, 'can feel you squeezing around me right now. Y'feel amazing... Fuck." While his warm breath fans over your ear — but other than that, he's barely paying attention to you >:(

Won't let you cum until the video's finished playing and they've got you whining and breathless on his length. Bonus points if you can't stop yourself from rutting/grinding against them.

If you consent, [REDACTED] would probably pull up his webcam and record this session as well while he's typing away on his computer.

Tells you to be patient and sit still while they work, but they're literally not typing?? He's just casually running his hands up and down your thighs?

Some obscure program has been idling on their desktop for the past hour, yet [REDACTED] hasn't moved from his spot against your neck — not has his hands left your chest and aching sex.

Probably makes the excuse of "staying inside you so that his cum doesn't leak out"......... T_T Then hits you with da "You did so well for me, so I'll let you pick. D'ya wanna be full of my cock? Or my cum?"

[shhwsper]

i love one-sided tropes.

[aeturnum-mendacacium]

I love to think that Bruce and tim are in cahoots all the time cause your honour they literally might be one of the smartest people on this earth and you tell me they wouldn't be able to understand each other? Like they both fit eachother so well because tim was the one who stayed with him through the tough times and the only one who believed he was ALIVE when he was presumed dead, like you tell me how that wouldn't have changed Bruce's brain chemistry

And the fact that Bruce allowed tim to barge into his already fucked up life even though he wasn't willing at first but warmed up because they understand eachother, and cause Bruce was the one who wouldn't call his theories impractical like the others did no matter how weird they sounded cause he understood how he felt, and cause he was the one to actually discuss with him even if it was 3 am and they were both tired cause they were just like that

Cause he would expect him in the silent nights and sit in the balcony with him to listen, and he was the one to make 2 cups of hot chocolate or coffee depending on how long he wanted to stay awake, and sit with him in the dark and speak with hushed voices because they didn't want to wake anybody up

Because it was Bruce he hoped to find in the middle of the night when he snuck out of his room barefoot and it was tim who would still agree with him if groups ever split apart, and he had the trust in tim to be against him if he did something which was wrong.

Because it was tim and Bruce who would always come back together anyways after a fight

And because tim was the only one who would still trust in him when nobody did and Bruce was the only was to listen to him and believe in him when the world didn't

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 2: Swan Lake (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

The next night, Lucanis finds himself arranging a few plates on the dining table ahead of Rook’s planned arrival. He arranges, then rearranges, doubts what he made, or if it was weird thing to do in general. But he remembers his conversation with Neve from earlier in the day, and that seems to hold his nerves steady for the time being.

He had walked into her office-room with a question. And Neve, unsurprisingly, knew exactly what that question was before he even got to her front door. She was a damn good detective, he had to give her that.

“Planning something special for Rook?” she asked coyly.

“You know her better than I do” He admitted, scratching the side of his beard. “She’s … helping me. I want to do something nice for her”

“Is that all?” Neve quirked a brow and leaned back in her chair. An errant wisp floated by her hair, which she quickly swatted away gently.

Lucanis frowned. “Yes. That is all. Just tell me what I should make for her”

Neve crossed her arms, “Information rarely comes free in Minrathous”

“We’re not in Minrathous” he pointed out.

“You can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl” she said wistfully, closing her eyes and grinning.

Lucanis groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fine, what do you want”

“Fried fish for dinner tomorrow night”

“I was going to make Paella tomorrow night”

“Well, now you’re making fried fish” Neve quipped.

“Mierda, alright. But I’m also making vegetables” He pointed at her, “You people need to get better eating habits”

Neve grinned and steepled her fingers together, then leaned forward on her desk. “Make the churros again. You might not have noticed her sneaking an extra one or… five, during dinner, but I certainly did. She wouldn’t stop talking about them the day after you made them”

“Churros” He repeated thoughtfully, as he rubbed his beard. He could do that. He should still have some ingredients left over from the first time he made them last week.

Rook likes sweet things. Smells like sweet things. Spite echoed in his head. He ignored that.

“Thank you, Neve” He gave her a curt nod before he turned to leave. “There will be fresh coffee in the dining hall in a few minutes if you’ve a mind for a real cup of it.” He called over his shoulder.

Lucanis left to her chuckling behind him and closed the door to her office. He had spent the rest of the day gathering supplies, and later in the evening when he was certain the team was asleep, he began preparing. The routine of baking and cooking was as calming as sharpening his longsword on a whetstone. Slow, methodical, rhythmic. But unlike sharpening his swords and knives, the end product was something that could bring joy, rather than misery and death. He tries to hang on to that.

When he finishes the churros, he decides that’s not enough. He makes a chocolate sauce to go with the churros. But maybe she prefers caramel? He should have asked Neve. So, he makes a caramel sauce as well. Then, he wants to see if she’ll like cioccolata calda and starts preparing that. It’s fairly late in the evening when he finishes the croissants he wasn’t planning on baking.

No sign of Rook yet.

He’s not sure when he started pacing with his second cup of coffee in hand.

She had accompanied Bellara to Arlathan – something about Veil Jumpers going missing deep in the forest. He shouldn’t worry. He’s seen Rook fight, she’s more than capable. But she does have a certain recklessness to her way of fighting. No - he doesn’t need to worry. He isn’t worrying.

He continues pacing. Then, he’s once again finding flaws with his arrangement of the desserts on the table. Would she find this strange? Too much? Off-putting, and not in a charming way but an unsettling way? Was there even a way to be charmingly off-putting?

He's pacing again.

“Am I interrupting something?”

He stops in his tracks.

Her voice has caught him off guard two nights in a row. That is a problem.

“Rook” He says stupidly.

“Hi” She waves meekly, and limps into the dining hall with a groan. She’s dragging her left foot on the ground. “Sorry I’m late – ran into trouble in Arlathan.”

He takes a few tentative steps closer. He wants to extend his hand, but some unknown force keeps it to his side, his entire body wound tighter than Harding’s bowstring.

If his body won’t move, his mouth will have to pay the balance.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

Rook winces and draws closer to the large wooden table.

“Rage demon” she answers, pulling out a chair by the fireplace “And I’m happy to report it lived up to its name! It wasn’t very happy to see us”

He pulls out a chair beside her. She turns to him and laughs bitterly, “Have you ever been burned and stabbed on a job? Because I found out what that feels like today, and it’s kind of awful. Thankfully Bellara was able to patch me up”

Lucanis looks down at her left leg. Whatever injury she sustained is covered by her pants, but he can surmise from the way she’s shifting nearly all her weight onto the other leg it must have been bad.

“You leave your left flank wide open when you fight” he says, absent-mindedly. And immediately wishes he hadn’t.

“What?”

Mierda.

“You have a habit of leaving your left flank open.” He says quickly, then looks into the fire. Anywhere but her confused face. “Something I’ve noticed on the field.”

He feels her staring. He’s said something he shouldn’t have said. He doesn’t know how to right it other than by offering her food as a distraction. Lucanis turns to his handiwork and reaches for the bowl of churros, all but thrusting it in front of her.

“Churro?” He asks hopefully.

If Rook is taken aback by the odd exchange, she has the manners not to say anything. She blinks twice and looks down at the dessert.

“You made this for me?” She tilts her head.

Lucanis rubs the back of his neck.

“I … yes” He sets the bowl back on the table after she gingerly takes one in her hand. He wonders if they’re as soft to touch as they appear. “I thought dessert might pair well with your stories”

Rook chuckles, and leans in closer “It’s a good thought”

Smells like Blood and Ashes and Brimstone, Spite’s anger reverberates through his chest. She’s supposed to smell like sweet things.

For once he’s grateful for the demon’s interjection as it keeps him from staring at her while she eats the churro. And licks the cinnamon sugar from her lips. He shouldn’t be paying attention to this.

“Mmm” she sighs, an expression of serene delight passing over her features. His chest tightens.

Rook grins, oblivious to the effect she has on him, “These are dangerous you know- you can’t keep making them for me or it’ll be all I’ll eat”

Lucanis sighs and pushes the chocolate and caramel sauces towards her. “You and Neve are peas in a pod evidently.”

Rook squeals in delight and wastes no time dipping the dessert into the chocolate sauce.

She prefers chocolate.

“So” He starts, awkwardly shifting in his seat, “What tale will you tell tonight?”

He pretends not to notice her wiping a smear of chocolate sauce from the corner of her lip with her finger.

“Oh, right” She reaches into her side pocket and pulls out the small journal. Rook flips through its pages, humming thoughtfully. She lands on a page near the end of the journal before stopping.

“This might be a good one.” Rook snaps the journal shut and places on the table beside her. “Have you ever heard the tale of Swan Lake?”

Even if he had, he would say no. If she wants to tell him a story, he won’t sway her.

“The original story is from Nevarra, but it was adapted into an Orlesian ballet some time ago” Rook continues, not giving him a chance to answer before barreling ahead with her explanation. “Apparently it was one of Emperor Judicael’s favourites. He liked it so much he had the ballet house play it nearly every night, and producers of the other ballet’s threatened to quit en masse. It was so bad, the play was actually banned in Orlais for about fifty years because of that whole debacle. Caused quite the scandal”

“Must be a good ballet” He remarks, before getting up from his seat. “Wait here for a moment, Rook”

Rook nods and reaches for another churro, “Sure”.

Lucanis returns with two steaming cups and passes one to Rook. She takes it gratefully and lifts the warm beverage to her nose. “Mmm! What is this? Smell’s divine”

“Cioccolata Calda. An Antivan specialty”

“Is it coffee?”

“Try it”

Rook does as she’s told and takes a curious sip. Her eyes widen and her lips split into a large smile. “That is amazing. I think I have a new favourite drink”

“They make it better at Café Pietra, but this will do for tonight” Lucanis sits back down and takes a sip of his own cup. It’s a little too sweet for him, but the look on her face assures him it was a good call. “If we find ourselves in Treviso again, we can –“

“I like the way you make things” Rook says quietly, gripping her cup a bit tighter. She’s looking down at her cup, and it’s probably for the better. He is certain the tips of his ears are a furious shade of red.

“Thank you” He whispers, after a few moments of quiet pass between the two. “That’s… very kind of you to say”

“You’re welcome” She replies, crossing her legs in her seat like she did yesterday. She looks like she wants to say something else, but a quick shake of her head and a clap of her hands brings her focus back to the reason she came here.

“Okay, umm, let’s see here” Rook’s gentle features twist in concentration.

Her hands begin glowing with that familiar blue light, and as she raises her arms and gives a flourish with her left hand.

A castle once again fills the empty space between their chairs. This one has a central dome surrounded by four gilded towers with pointed roofs – different in style and architecture from the one yesterday, but no less impressive.

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a handsome and gentle prince by the name of Siegfried”

The castle ripples out of existence, and in its place, is the form of a young man with short, cropped hair, a broad chest, and a large bow on his back.

“Prince Siegfried was one of the most accomplished hunters in the kingdom. It was said he could hit any mark, no matter the distance. His aim would always be true. Some versions of the story mention his crossbow being enchanted, others chalk it up to pure skill. Either way, he’s a good shot” Rook grins and makes the figure of the Prince aim an arrow right at Lucanis’ chest with a crook of her finger.

Lucanis raises an eyebrow and holds his hands up in mock defense, “Tell the Prince he should stick to animals – I might be above his paygrade”

Rook bursts out into laughter and as her concentration breaks for a moment, the image of the Prince flickers in and out of existence.

“Sorry, carry on.” Lucanis smiles as she rights herself in her seat and places her hands back into position.

“Yes – where was I?” Rook flicks her wrist, and the Prince is back in view. This time, he’s joined by another figure. A tall woman, dressed in a long, flowing dress with an ornate crown on her head, comes to stand next to him.

“His mother, the Dowager Queen, comes to inform him of an upcoming ball that will be held at the royal palace. ‘At this ball, my son, you will choose a royal bride. For I am late in my years and wish to see grandchildren in these palace halls before I depart’” As before, the Queen’s mouth moves in rhythm with Rook’s words – like magical ventriloquism.

Rook waves her hand and the Queen disappears. The form of the prince cradles his head in his hands.

“The Prince is despondent at this news. He wanted to marry for love, not political power. Surely, he has a right to his own heart, at least?” The Prince sinks to his knees and stays like that for a few moments.

Another flourish from Rook, and a new figure appears. Shorter, portlier than the Prince, but with kinder features.

“His friend Benno sees how upset he is, and wonders how he can help cheer up the Prince”

Both figures disappear as Rook pauses to take a sip of her hot chocolate. He tries to ignore Spite’s impatient rippling at the edges of his consciousness.

Siegfried and Benno return soon thereafter.

“Benno looks out the window, and happens to see a flock of swans flying outside”

Rook waves the swans into existence, and they flit around Siegfried and Benno in circles before disappearing. The figure of Benno tugs on the prince’s shoulder sleeve.

“‘Your highness, a hunt!’ he exclaims, pointing out the window” The figure of the prince straightens, his interest piqued by the animals.

“Benno gathers a few other men from the castle, and along with the prince, they all ride out to the forest to hunt the swans”

The scene changes to Benno, Siegfried, and three other men riding horseback through a dense forest canopy. He will always be in awe of the imagery she’s able to bring to life with her magic. Never in a hundred years would he have thought of using magic in this way. Then again, Rook is anything but a typical mage, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

“At some point, Prince Siegfried becomes separated from the group”

One by one, Benno and the other men disappear, until only the prince remains, trotting horseback through the air on the spot.

“He comes to the lakeside clearing and finds the flock of swans.” The swans reappear, now floating on the edge of an invisible lake. The figure of the Prince draws his crossbow and pulls an arrow from the quiver. As he nocks the arrow, one of the swans transforms into a beautiful young woman. She has a long plait of hair spilling over her left shoulder. She’s wearing what Lucanis assumes, from its puffy construction, a ballet dress. The skirts are feathered, and feathers even fall from the dress, winking out of existence moments later.

He leans in closer to observe the finer details.

“You have quite the imagination, Rook” Lucanis smiles at her.

She returns it in kind and brushes a stray curl behind her ear. She looks shy, almost, and like she’s avoiding looking at him. “Some say over-active”

“I think it’s just right” He pulls back and takes a sip of his own hot chocolate.

“Thanks…” She whispers, drawing her legs closer together. When she sees her figures flickering again, Rook’s brows bunch together and the blue light in her hands grows brighter.

“The … ah … the Prince was so transfixed by her beauty and grace, he had to know more about her”

The figure of the prince begins moving closer to the woman, but the woman begins to back away.

“But she was frightened, for she did not know this man, and feared the crossbow in his hands”

“‘Wait!’ The prince calls just before she leaves his sight” The prince holds out his hand and tosses his crossbow to the ground. Well, the air. “‘Please stay, I’ve not a mind to hurt you. Won’t you tell me who you are?’”

The young woman stops and rests her hand on her chest.

“‘My name is Odette, and I cannot leave this place’”

“Why?” Lucanis is leaning forward, practically on the edge of his seat.

Rook leans in closer. Too close. Close enough to reach out and touch. Her large, doe-like green eyes, framed under long and wispy eyelashes, feel like they’re burning themselves into his soul.

Chocolate and cinnamon. Spite shrieks gleefully, and he wants to draw back. His heart throbs loudly in his ears, almost drowning out the demon. Almost.

“The prince had the same question” She winks and returns to her previous spot before he has the chance to pull away first.

“Odette explains she’s been placed under a curse by a powerful, but wicked mage. His name was Von Rothbart, and he was obsessed with Odette.”  

The prince disappears and is replaced by a taller man with hair tied behind his back and sharp, hawk-like features. He was dressed in a finely tailored doublet, with a side-cape hanging by a large broach affixed to the right shoulder. A faint red light shines from the broach.

“He kidnapped her from her home and used her blood to bind her soul to the gem in his broach. ‘Marry me’, he asks her every night. Every night she refuses. Every morning thereafter, she turns into a swan. And every night, she is called back to Swan Lake and turns back into a human. Such had been her fate for the last five years. It’s a powerful spell, born of ancient magic – but not an invulnerable one.”

Rook arced her hand over Odette, who’s form morphed from human to swan to human again with every back-and-forth motion of her palm.

He doesn’t have the words, none that will meaningfully add to the conversation at least, to describe how he feels about the way she uses her magic. Amazing, incredible, inventive all seem inadequate.

“There was one way to break Rothbart’s spell. A man would need to profess his love for her and remain faithful to that vow forevermore”

The figure of the prince kneels down on one knee, evidently ready to profess that love immediately.

Lucanis is resting his elbow on his knee, and his chin rests in his hand. His cup of hot chocolate rests forgotten by his side, as do the churros and croissants. He is certain she doesn’t realize how captivating she – her stories, are.

But they are interrupted by Rothbart, suddenly appearing beside Odette. He grabs her roughly by the arm and holds her beside him.

The prince stands with righteous anger. He has an arrow pointed at the figure of Rothbart.

“‘I shall slay this wicked mage, and free you from his grasp’” Siegfried declared”.

As the prince was about to loose the arrow, Lucanis is surprised to see Odette step in front of Rothbart, her arms spread wide in defense. The prince lowers his bow hesitantly.

A low growl escapes his throat, his eyes flash an angry violet “Why would she do that?” Lucanis’ voice is drowned by the deep and unnatural timbres of the demon, echoing together in a discordant symphony.

“Spite” Rook says calmly, like one would address a misbehaving child. “May I have Lucanis back so we can finish the story? You’ll find out why in a moment”

Lucanis’ face contorts with frustration. His violet eyes burn bright with anger, “Want. To know”

“You will, soon. Now bring Lucanis back”

Lucanis – well, Spite, growls again. When the demon refuses to relent, Rook hesitantly touches his forearm and frowns. “Please?”

The violet in his eyes dims, and Lucanis shakes his head. It was rare for Spite to surge to the forefront so quickly.

He couldn’t understand why the princess would protect someone who hurt her.

Lucanis takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

“Are you alright?” Rook asks quietly. The figures are long gone now, dissipated by the distraction that was Spite.

He realizes she’s still touching his forearm. Warm, and calming. Gentle. They both look down and she quickly pulls away. He feels the withdrawal of her warmth like gust of cold settling on his skin.

“Yes, I’m fine – don’t worry” He gestures to her, “Please, continue with your story”

Rook still looks hesitant, like she doesn’t quite believe him. He wouldn’t either, he supposed. He needs her to continue the story. Needs to distract himself from the feeling of her soft fingers lingering on his skin, like a brand.

She relents and her hands glow blue again.

The three figures of Siegfried, Odette, and Rothbart return.

“Odette explains that her life is tied to Von Rothbart. If he dies, then the spell imprisoning her can never be broken”

The figure of Rothbart retreats into a deeper part of the forest she’s conjured.

Odette and Siegfried share an embrace.

“’Come to the royal ball in three days’ time. There, I will profess my love to you in front of the entire court’ Says the Prince, resolved to defy his mother and marry her instead of a princess.”

The figure of Odette nods and disappears soon after.

“What they don’t know is that Rothbart heard the entire exchange, and he had a plan to make sure Odette could never escape him” Rook frowned.

The prince disappears next, and they are back with Rothbart and another young woman. This one slender and petite, with the same sharp features as the man next to her.

“Rothbart had a plan. He would use magic to disguise himself” Rook waved a hand and Rothbart morphed into the dress and appearance of an unassuming peasant. “And his daughter, Odile” She waved her hand again, and the young woman became an identical copy of Odette – but her dress, was glowing with an ominous black light.

“There’s no way that’ll work” Lucanis throws his arms up and leans back in his chair. “He has to know that Rothbart won’t just let her waltz into the ball”

Rook merely shrugs, “You’ll have to wait and see”

Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. “Continue”

Rook laughs, “Alright, alright”

Odile and Rothbart disappear. They are replaced by a grand ballroom floor, with guests dressed in all sorts of finery decorating the dance floor like little spinning jewels.

At the top of a grand staircase sees Benno, Siegfried, and the Queen gathered together.

“Siegfried anxiously awaits the arrival of Odette” Rook explains, before waving her hand and bringing to life the disguised figures of Rothbart and Odile-as-Odette.

“Overcome with joy when he sees her, he immediately asks her to dance”

The two come together, and the rest of the ballroom disappears. They twirl about the ballroom in an elegant pas-de-deux.

“At the end of the dance, Odile asks him one simple question”

The pair part, and the prince drops to one knee in front of her.

“’Do you love me, and only me?’”

Lucanis watches intently as the figure of the prince bows his head in front of the pretender.

Sadness washes over Rook’s face. “The Prince, none the wiser, proclaims his love to the entire court ‘Of course I love you’ – but it wasn’t enough. Rothbart, masquerading as the girl’s father, asks him to make a binding vow in front of the Queen. Siegfried, thinking nothing of it, does so immediately”

Rook waves her hand and the figures of Rothbart and Odile return to their original forms. Suddenly, the real Odette, in her pure white dress, is inside the ballroom. She crumples to the floor as she witnesses the Prince profess his love for Odile.

“Odette, heartbroken, flees the ball and returns to the lakeside clearing. The prince follows after her, distraught at what he’s done.”

The two figures stand in front of each other on the lake.

“Odette eventually forgives him, realizing that he was under Rothbart’s spell just as much as she was. But the damage was done. His actions consigned her to live as a swan forevermore”

Lucanis frowned, unable to see a path to a happy ending. But Rook was full of surprises, maybe her stories were as well.

“Odette and the Prince resolved to leave this world together, rather than be bound by Rothbart’s magic”

The figures of Siegfried and Odette walk towards the lake, hand in hand. They slowly sink together under the willowy depths.

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

A moment later, they both disappear under the water.

The figure of Rothbart returns into view. The red light of the broach on his shoulder flickers in and out, before dying out completely. Rothbart collapses to the ground and remains still.

“It’s true that Odette’s life was bound to Rothbart’s – but the magic worked both ways. Rothbart’s life was also tied to hers. And when she left this world of her own will, he left it against his”

A moment later, Rothbart disappears and in his place are two ghostly swans, flying in circles together.

“The spirits of Siegfried and Odette are reunited in the Fade, until they decide to pass on together”

With a final flick of her wrist, the birds disappear, and there is nothing but empty space between him and Rook again.

“The End”

Lucanis exhaled.

“Not the most cheerful ending” He remarks, taking another sip of hot chocolate.

“What was it you said about that one brew at Café Pietra? Bitter and sweet - like a kiss goodbye?” Rook nods and absent-mindedly chews on another churro. “That’s how I think about this ending. Not every story has an overtly happy one”

He’s dumbfounded she even remembers that throwaway comment.

“I still don’t understand how the prince doesn’t question Odette appearing at the ball. With a father she hasn’t seen in five years, supposedly” He wants to change the subject. Away from kisses, goodbye or otherwise.

Rook shrugs, “That’s a question for the author- though he’s likely about four hundred year’s dead.” A light twinkles in her eyes, “Maybe we can find him here, in the Fade, and ask his spirit!”

Lucanis laughs, “Now there’s an idea”

“I’m full of them. Some better than others” Rook grins sheepishly. She begins massaging the side of her left leg.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, following her gaze down.

“Nothing – it’s just starting to ache a bit” Rook winces. “That demon got me good”

“Let me see” Lucanis drops to his knee in front of her. “If that’s alright”

Rook removes her hand and drops her gaze to look at him.

“Oh – it’s fine, Lucanis, really. I’ll bug Bellara about it in the morn- “

“It’s better if you bug me about it now. It might get worse over the course of the night”

He gestures to her pant leg, “May I?” He asks again.

Rook bites her lip, before relenting. “Sure… go ahead” she answers softly and lifts her leg so he can support it in his right hand.

He clicks his tongue when he sees the damage under her dressing. The lateral portion of her lower leg is covered with an irritated and inflamed superficial burn. Three parallel gash marks, likely closed thanks to Bellara’s healing magic, create tracts of bright crimson skin. She hisses when he gently presses on the skin of her leg.

“I have something for this. Wait here” He carefully lowers her leg and returns a moment later with a small jar from the pantry.

“Embrium and Elfroot paste, good for burns and skin irritation. It’ll also prevent infection. Apply it twice a day” He sets the jar on the table beside her. “Let me know if that gets worse”

Rook grins, “I didn’t know I was getting a doctor and an assassin in my contract”

Lucanis chuckles, “Any Crow worth their salt knows how to close a wound just as well as they can open one. Consider it on the house”

“Is the all the cooking on the house too?” Rook slowly stands up, and they’re only a few inches away from each other now.

Lucanis nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I think it has to be, with the way you people eat”

“Hey! I’m not that bad” She places her hands on her hips and frowns. “I eat vegetables … sometimes”

“I’ve seen you pick out the eggplant in every dish”

“Okay, I don’t like one vegetable”

She shakes her head and gathers a few churros and croissants onto a plate. Rook sticks a croissant in her mouth, and speaks around it, “Just for that, I’m eating nothing but these for the next two days”

“You’re going to miss Paella night” He deadpans.

Rook swallows and places another croissant defiantly on her plate.

“Three nights”

Lucanis sighs. At least she seems to like the food.

Rook’s laughter fills the dining hall. “On that note – I should get some sleep. I hope Spite doesn’t give you too much trouble for the rest of the night”

“He won’t” Lucanis doesn’t know that but says it to give her some reassurance. “Good night, Rook”

“Madeleina”

“What?”

“My name … it’s Madeleina. You can call me that if you want” She smiles widely. “Rook is fine too, though”

“Madeleina” He repeated softly. He smiled, and for the first time all night, he feels like he can keep her gaze. Their eyes meet, and it feels like an entirely new conversation is happening between them. “It suits you”

Rook toys with an errant curl and smiles. “Thank you”

“I – umm… I should get going. Goodnight, Lucanis” she adds quickly.

She quickly rights herself and for good measure, steals one more churro from the bowl. Madeleina then turns and begins hobbling out of the dining hall, leaving Lucanis and Spite to mull the feeling of her new name over in his mind.

He would have to thank Neve for her advice.

[sonik-kun]

Why are Jiang Cheng antis unable to accept JC's canon positive traits whilst completely denying all of Wei Wuxian's canon negatives? Lmao.

WWX is canonically reckless. In his first life, he made stupid decisions and made enemies on his own which even he acknowledges.

JC did correctly predict WWX's downfall. He warns him about walking the crooked path, and WWX just laughs and shrugs him off.

JC also correctly predicted that if he stood with the Wen, the rest of the world would turn against WWX, and JC wouldn't be able to protect him.

The whole thing about JC is that he is pragmatic. He is politically savvy, and he is very perceptive. We see this in the Wen indoctrination camp also, when JC warns WWX not to draw attention to himself or anger the Wen. We all know that he does draw attention to himself (even if doing so saved the lives of all the sect heirs at the camp) and not long after, the Jiang were targeted next after the Lans, with the Wens determined to shame WWX for his "insolence."

We also see that JC is more socially aware of the political situation. He is street smart and a realist. WWX, on the other hand, was more of an optimist, believing he can save everyone, even political enemies, and somehow, no one would bat an eye.

Now, no one is saying that WWX is wrong to speak out against the injustices of the world. On the contrary. Everyone in this fandom is very much on his side and agrees with him because he is correct to call them out and challenge the sect leaders. But that doesn't mean his methods were right, nor were they considerate. They were still reckless and still endangered many lives. His decisions often only thought about the short term and never the long term.

You also seem to forget that his DC also made him rather reckless and irritational. JC didn't only warn him of this, but LWJ, too. His actions via the use of DC lead to the deaths of JZX and JYL, not to mention the many disciples that were present at Nightless City.

WWX's actions, although pure and noble, put JC into a very difficult situation, and ultimately, they took away the last immediate family JC had left (JYL). That is a fact. It's not even a fanon headcannon. I don't know why I'm seeing antis insisting that we're completely ass pulling all of this. It's literally there in the book.

To conclude, no one is making up JC's canon good traits. You just refuse to see them because you're blinded by WWX's protagonist halo. So much so that you can't even see his own canonical flaws. Talk about hypocritical, much?

Also, no. MXTX doesn't care what JC fans think or even what JC antis think. She's moved on from this story years ago. It hardly crosses her mind anymore. (Even then, she was baffled by the hate JC got and claimed that he isn't a bad person. It's there in the interviews if you want to read them, straight from the authors mouth!). But sure. Pop off. Keep on justifying being vile, nasty haters. Let's see where that gets you. 👋

[lackadaisicallizard]

Smart

A ravenrock microfic (peter x benjy)

“My mind is blank.” Peter’s head is in his hands, his tone defeated. 

“Come on babe, you know this one,” Benjy replies, his voice as calm and patient as ever. It’s a little infuriating how collected he is sometimes.

“When will I ever need to know the properties of a boomslang in my day to day life?” 

Benjy chuckles. “If you ever get bitten by one, you might change your tune.” 

Peter cocks an eyebrow at his amused boyfriend. “I’m never going to be stupid enough to get bitten by one.” 

“Didn’t you say James did when he was a kid once?” 

“Exactly.” 

Benjy laughs again, shaking his head. “I love you.” 

Peter hums. “Will you still love me if I fail this potions essay?” 

“You’re not going to fail the potions essay! You’ve got the best tutor in the school.” 

Peter’s lips curl up into a smirk. “Oh yeah, and when does he show up then?” 

“Oh fuck you, Pettigrew.” 

The smirk widens. “Is that an offer?” 

Benjy rolls his eyes but leans in all the same, waiting for Peter to meet him halfway before pressing their lips together. It starts as a slow kiss because even if they are tucked away in the corner, they’re still in the school library. 

Then one of Peter’s hands finds Benjy’s cheek and he feels a hand on his knee as the Ravenclaw moves in even closer. Peter can’t help but smile into the kiss, the warmth of the moment contrasting with the coolness of the library. As their kiss deepens, Peter’s fingers gently trace the outline of the other boy’s jaw, and the faintest gasp escapes Benjy’s lips as Peter’s fingers find the nape of his neck, weaving his fingers into soft brown hair and holding him there. 

Time seems to slow, and the awareness of their surroundings fades away, leaving only this moment. Only Benjy. 

Always Benjy. 

Driving him crazy with his beautiful face and even more beautiful brain. 

God, he wishes he could just live inside the brain of Benjy Fenwick, even just for a day. Just to see inside the mind of someone truly beautiful and witty and just good. 

Peter knows he doesn’t deserve him, but he’s far too selfish to give him up now. 

Because even if he can’t live inside Benjy’s mind, Benjy lives in his. He always will. 

They pull apart then, their breathing a little ragged, their heart rates slightly more elevated than they were a few minutes ago. 

“Can we ditch the studying yet?” Peter asks, already knowing the answer. 

Benjy smiles as he leans back in his chair, his eyes still very much sparkling as they stay on Peter’s face. “Not a chance, Pettigrew.”

It was worth a shot. 

“What if I told you that boomslang skin is used in both polyjuice and beautification potions?” 

Benjy blinks at him. “Did you know that the whole time?” 

Peter puts on his best innocent expression. “Maybe.” 

“Then why on Earth did you pretend you didn’t?” 

“Because when I don’t know things you tell me the answers, and I love when you tell me things.”

“Really?”

Peter nods. “Seriously. I could hear you go on about shrivelfigs for hours. Your mind is ridiculously sexy.”  

Benjy is quiet for a good ten seconds then as he stares at his boyfriend with a stunned expression. Peter is just starting to worry about the silence when Benjy stands up and holds out his hand. Peter takes it, bewildered, as he also stands and follows the other boy’s lead through the library. 

Peter finds his voice as they pass through the door. “Um, Benjy, where are we going?” 

“Back to your dorm.” Benjy’s tone is firm. 

“What about the studying?” Peter asks the question but has no intention on stopping the current unexpected chain of events. 

“We’ll get back to that later.”

“Is this because I called your brain sexy?” 

“Partly, yes.” 

“And the other part?” 

Benjy stops them then. They’re at the base of the stairs to Gryffindor tower. “What is a Chizpurfle carapace used for?”

Peter furrows his brow. “Um, what?” 

“Just answer the question, Pettigrew.” 

“Um, they’re often used in antidotes to common poisons, but they’re quite hard to break open so they’re often fed to venomous tentaculas first.” 

Benjy takes an audible breath at that, eyes widening slightly. “And Horklump juice?” 

“It’s used in the making of various magical ointments. Benjy, what is this-“ 

His question is cut off as he finds himself pushed up against the castle wall, Benjy’s mouth finding his once again. They kiss for an extended moment before coming up for air, Peter using the break to ask a question. 

“Not that I’m complaining about this in the slightest, but are you telling me that me knowing the properties of potions ingredients is turning you on right now?” 

Benjy shrugs. “Yeah, kind of. Is that a problem?” 

Peter smiles, noting the lightly flushed skin only inches away from his own. Benjy’s lips have been kissed a darker shade of pink and his usually neat hair is slightly disheveled. 

“Nope. Not a problem at all.” 

“Good.” Another chaste kiss. “Just one thing.” 

“Yes?” Peter doesn’t even need to know what it is that he wants, he would give Benjy absolutely anything. 

“Don’t hide how smart you are from me. Ever.” 

Peter smiles. “Oh you want a little competition, huh?” 

Benjy snorts. “I wouldn’t go that far, Pettigrew.” 

“Are you underestimating me, Fenwick?” 

A smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

And he knows in that moment that he means it, because people underestimate Peter all the time. He’s used to it. He often prefers it, even. 

But with Benjy- well he’s finally met his match. 

Because Benjy sees him. Not his friends, not his pranks, not Wormtail or Pete, but him. 

Peter Pettigrew.

Whose world is slowly beginning to revolve around a wonderful, kind, blue-eyed, pink-cheeked, brown-haired boy. And as they stand there, wrapped in the moment of each other, Peter is nothing but grateful for the boy who sees him for who he truly is.

[lilracoonindisguise]

More art by JaroInThePit

[2manyfandoms2count]

Message in a Bottle

Happy Valentine's Day! I'm a little late to the @theerasfestlovesquareversion party, but here's my submission ❤ Special thanks to @miabrown007 for beta-ing!

Happy reading!

Read on AO3

---

Marinette sat at her desk, one foot tucked under her, thoughtfully clicking her pen as she tried to organise a message. 

Her thoughts, which went a thousand miles an hour on a slow day, had come to a freeze about twenty four hours prior, when she’d seen – and heard – Adrien’s lips pronounce three little words she’d only ever dreamed of hearing from him. It was just her luck that they were tuned out by warning beep s, and followed by the Startrain doors clicking shut, as in slow motion, without her being able to do anything to stop them.

A part of her had screamed, urging her to chase after the moving vehicle, but her body had remained standing still on the platform, completely and utterly stunned. 

She still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten back to her parents’ bakery. How she’d gotten to bed, fallen asleep.

All she knew, as she’d awoken in the morning, was that she knew something she didn’t before, and felt a sense of clarity regarding what she needed to do – but that was when her mind had woken up, too. 

And thus the calm before the storm had ended, her mind suddenly swept by a force faster than the wind, dispersing any coherence in her head, scattering words like autumn leaves, before they even got a chance to associate with each other. 

She slammed her head on the table, hoping it would help reset her brain; unfortunately it only brought on a throbbing pain. She winced as she rubbed the budding bump on her forehead.

“Screw it,” she mumbled, finally putting her pen to paper. 

Dear Adrien, 

My feelings since you’ve left have been all over the place, but it’s kind of frightening how happy the three little words you said as the doors of the Startrain closed, made me. They’ve been all I’ve been able to think about (which you know better than anyone might not be the best thing right now – but in a good way! I wouldn’t want you to take them back for the world. Unless you want to. Which would definitely not be a problem, of course. Although maybe just a little. But I’d get over it, I promise).  

Marinette’s hand hovered over the page. She was rambling – which could be fine when she talked, but felt pretty stupid to her in written form. This wasn’t her diary. She couldn’t afford to have a stream of consciousness run on her page; maybe Adrien would read it, and think she was crazy, rip up the letter, throw it in the fire, and she’d never, ever, hear from him again. And then what?

If anything, the reason he’d gone to London in the first place, to get away from the press following Hawkmoth’s (his father’s!) defeat, so he could focus on the latter’s upcoming trial, was enough to justify a clear and concise message. She didn’t want to burden him with her feelings when he surely had infinitely more serious things to think about. 

“Marinette, it can be just a first draft, you know.” Tikki’s soothing words snapped her out of her spiral. 

She looked up at the small divinity, who smiled encouragingly. She nodded, then turned her attention back to her words, biting the end of her pen as she reread them.

Little did she know that Adrien, a small body of water away, was doing exactly the same thing…

—

Dear Marinette,

I’m so sorry I panicked. I didn’t mean to say I like you . Partly, because it’s a little embarrassing that I blurted it out like that – but mostly, because I like you doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about you. I just saw you, your freckles (the ones I thought I knew like the back of my hand – but that couldn’t be true now, could it? Else I would’ve realised who you were sooner), your smile, and the way you looked at me, and suddenly I got cold feet, and that was the extent of what my tangled brain could produce. 

Adrien spun in Félix’s desk chair, assessing what he’d written thus far. It was a good start, he supposed. His life had been turned upside down by the cataclysmic revelation that Hawkmoth was, in fact, his father, and arguably even more so by the fact that Ladybug was Marinette – he was allowed a certain amount of disorganisation. 

Although he’d obviously been surprised by the former fact, he had to admit that, retrospectively, it did make sense. He even felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner – or, rather, for figuring it out back when Hawkmoth’s powers were still fairly limited, and the damage done (both physical and psychological) was only a fraction of what would happen next, but being too much in denial of the kind of person his father was, and therefore falling for his tricks. 

But his father had grown cockier with his powers, sloppier. His desperation sent him in a slow, downward spiral, hijacking his every thought, eating away at him until one day, he’d stumbled out of what Adrien would later discover was his lair, straight into his atelier, holding his head in his hands – still clad in the purple suit that made most of Paris tremble.

Adrien had stood frozen in the doorway, at first not comprehending what he was seeing. Then, as his father – Paris’ most wanted villain – finally noticed him, the cogs in his brain had whirred again, and he’d made a dash for his room, knowing fully well what he needed to do.

Plagg had to go. Whatever happened next, he couldn’t end up in his father’s hands. 

He’d sent his best friend and his ring away just before the iron curtains had come down on his room’s windows. Just before the tears came streaming down his cheeks, as he cowered in a wardrobe, completely and utterly alone.

Until Marinette’s rescue mission, that is. 

Her being Ladybug, had come as both a complete surprise and an obvious conclusion to a mystery he’d done his best not to uncover since the day he’d first met his Lady. Adrien had obviously dreamed of figuring out who hid under his partner’s spotted mask, daring to ask every so often on the off chance that maybe she’d reconsidered her stance on the matter. But never, in his wildest dreams, had he ever made the conscious link between the two girls who brightened up his life. 

(Not that he remembered, anyway.)

Her plan had been so ingenious that he hadn’t clocked what was going on at first. He’d heard his father go on a rampage around the mansion in his search for him, half begging Adrien to listen to his explanations, half threatening him; and then there was silence as the doorbell cut through his words, and echoed through the house, once. Twice, insistent.

The silence was loud for a second, followed by footsteps running down the hallway. Gabriel opening the door. Voices, cordial at first, although Adrien couldn’t quite make the words out. He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, what Marinette had said, but somehow, she’d been invited in.

“Adrien?” His father’s tone was completely normal as he’d knocked on his door. “Adrien, your friend Marinette is here to see you. She saw the security system go off and came to check if everything was alright.” 

“I know how you feel about closed spaces,” Marinette had chimed in. Adrien had slowly crawled out of his hiding spot and made his way towards his room’s door, frowning, trying to remember when he’d told her about his fear. “It’s almost as bad as one of our friend’s fear of running out of cheese,” she’d added as he’d opened the door, turned towards Gabriel.

Adrien had stared at her blankly.

“Another one of our friends is worse about sweets, though,” Marinette had continued seemingly breezily, but Adrien had noticed the insistant glance she’d thrown him. “You should see her in January, she can’t get enough galette.”

Gabriel had chuckled politely, his shoulders tenser than usual, tearing Adrien’s focus off of Marinette’s words. “Well, as you can see, Adrien is very well, no need to worry. Now, if you don’t mind, I have an important matter to discuss with my son.”

Adrien had felt his blood run cold as his father’s fingers dug into his shoulder, which, from Marinette’s perspective, he assumed probably looked like a recreation of the painting looming over the grand staircase.

“Oh, of course, I’ll probably leave you to it, then,” Marinette had looked down, and fidgeted with her ring. 

Adrien had been torn between screaming out for her to make a run for it, to get as far as she could from the mansion and his father, somewhere safe, and begging her to take him with her. But something about her gesture had caught his attention.

Marinette didn’t wear a ring. And this wasn’t an Alliance ring, which he’d seen spread among his peers like wildfire. They didn’t have a common friend who loved galette. Or camembert.

The only person he knew who loved camembert was… 

He’d caught Marinette’s eyes, hoping she could read the question in his eyes. The way she’d nodded back, very slowly, led him to think she had. 

Swiftly, he’d turned around before his father could move, and grabbed the brooch he’d suspected lay beneath his scarf, tossing it to Marinette (Ladybug!), who’d caught it just as she called for her transformation. She’d grabbed his hand before jumping over the balustrade, almost dislocating his shoulder in the process (a small price to pay to get away, really). 

Adrien had heard his father swear after them, his footsteps rushing down, but he didn’t get very far. Ladybug opened the mansion’s door, and what seemed to be the entire Parisian police force rushed in, tackling him to the ground.

Just thinking about it again gave Adrien palpitations. He took a deep breath and got out of the chair, deciding to take a small break from writing. He owed Marinette so much.

—

Anyway, I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I haven’t had any news from you, and I feel like I’m going crazy. Realistically, I know that I like you, combined with our double… friendship, I guess?, must mean that I’m not just any friend to you, but I can’t help but wonder why you’re so silent. I guess I haven’t really been in touch either, even before your departure, but there’s just been so much going on with the trial… I don’t want to bother you, but you should know I’m here if you ever need to talk. Kwami, I wish we could talk right now. Even if I like the idea of sending you a letter, since there’s less chance of things getting lost in nerves.

Because I love you, Adrien. I’ve been trying to tell you for so long, but it never felt like it was the right time nor place to say it. I think I know why, now.

Marinette put her pen down and rubbed her face with her hands. The more she thought about it, the more everything made sense. All this time, she’d felt as if she’d been missing a piece of a puzzle, which threw all her confessions slightly off kilter – as it turned out, her feeling had been justified. 

What a shame the moment everything fell down like pieces into place had to be when Adrien had to leave. 

She shook her head. It was only temporary. She sat back in her chair with a sigh, looking out of her window. It was getting late; Notre Dame’s façade was illuminated, casting a comforting glow in the night. She wondered if Adrien’s view was as pretty as hers, and what he was up to. She didn’t dare bet he was thinking about her, but she hoped he did.

Do what you will with this information, she scribbled under her confession, sighing. I’m here if you need to talk, about anything you want. The weather, the upcoming trial, how you’re doing in London, how annoying I can imagine Félix being, what everyone in the class is up to, physics… You name it! I just really want to hear your voice again, especially your laugh.

You deserve to laugh, Adrien. So, so much. And I hope this letter brings at least a smile to your lips.

—

“Kid, you should be careful where you put your letters, I almost used it as a napkin for my extra mature pont l’évêque ,” Plagg yawned. 

“It wouldn’t matter much if you did,” Adrien sighed.

“Yes, I read it, you’re not sure you’ll send it, blablabla,” Plagg mimicked, holding up the piece of paper. 

“Hey! That was supposed to be private!” Adrien snatched it from his flippers with a huff. 

“It would be a shame, you know. It’s just the kind of thing Pigtails would love to receive.” Plagg shrugged. 

“You think?” Adrien asked, his voice suddenly hopeful.

“Trust me, Adrien, I know. ” 

Adrien couldn’t help the wide smile that spread on his lips at the thought. He went through his latest addition to the letter. 

You know, I feel like my neurons are a little less scrambled now, but Aunt Amélie is keeping me busy on this side of the Channel (I’m really discovering London, though, which is nice – I’d never been to Brixton, Camden or Hampstead Heath, but they’re great places to explore! I’d like to take you there someday, if you’ll allow me), and on the rare occasions I can sit down, which is generally late at night, I have to try and focus to go through the mess we’re going to be faced with. To tell you the truth, I much prefer sitting here writing to you, even though I don’t even know if I’ll ever even send you this letter. 

I keep thinking about the next time I’ll see you. I really want to run back to Paris, to you; I almost did, back on the train. I’m sure there would’ve been a way to stop it in its tracks, but in a way, I’m glad I didn’t. Even if there’s nothing I would’ve liked more than staying with you, putting a little distance between me and my father was quite welcome. If only there’d been a way for you to be with me… 

Sometimes, I think about calling you, but I’m always afraid that it’ll be a bad time, what with the UK being an hour behind you and all.  

He picked up his pen and added:

I hope you’re okay and that you know that I miss you and our hangouts, both in school and on the rooftops. I can’t wait to see you again, my Lady, whatever the circumstances. A small part of me hopes that it’ll be before the trial, or that we’ll get to be alone together for a bit afterwards. You and me against the world, and everything. 

(And maybe some of your dad’s chouquettes.) 

Lots of love, and hope to hear from you soon, 

Your Adrien

“There,” Adrien announced to no one in particular as he sealed his envelope. “I really hope you’re right, Plagg.” 

—

Anyway. I won’t hold you up any longer, but I just thought you should know how I feel. I’ll see you at the trial, at the latest – please don’t love London so much that you won’t come back… 

Forever yours, 

Marinette

Marinette dotted the i in her signature with a heart, and decided against re-reading the whole letter. Instead, she took out an envelope, neatly folded the page in three, and slid it inside. She wrote out Adrien’s name on the front of it, along with the Fathoms’ address, stuck a stamp at the top, and indicated her return address at the back. 

Then, she picked up her bag, and prepared to go to Alya’s. She’d post the letter on her way there; it would distract her from the wait that inevitably came with snail mail. 

She hoped her letter wouldn’t get drowned in the mass of mail Adrien surely received. 

Now, all she had to do was wait.

—

A week later, coming back from school, Marinette found a letter on her desk, and recognised the address’ calligraphy instantly. She all but tore the envelope open, her heart rate accelerating and a smile spreading wider and wider on her lips as her eyes progressed through the message. 

The date at the top told her that Adrien had written to her before reading her letter, but one thing was for sure: they were on the same page.

She placed the sheet back on her desk when she was done, feeling giddier than ever, and reached for her phone – it started ringing in her hands, Adrien’s face lighting up the screen. She almost dropped it in surprise.

“Hi,” Adrien’s voice breathed on the other end of the line.

“Hi,” she repeated, feeling herself blush. “How are–”

“I got your letter,” he blurted quickly, cutting her off. 

“I got yours, too.” She gently ran her fingers down the paper on her desk.

“Good, good.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Hey, I know this is a strange request, but would you mind going up to your balcony for a second?” he blurted quickly, cutting her off.

“Um, okay.” Marinette frowned a little, but still made her way up. Maybe it was a question of connection.

She swiftly pulled herself out of her skylight, and froze. 

Her balcony was covered in red roses: they were entangled in the wrought-iron, stood in vases on the floor, in a petal path leading straight to… Astrochat, sheepishly holding a single red rose. He hung up the phone.

“I love you too, Marinette,” he said. 

Tears welled up in Marinette’s eyes as she threw herself into his arms, hugging him as tightly as she could. 

“Don’t worry about me not coming back, I’ll always stay,” he whispered in her hair. 

Marinette looked up at him, feeling like her heart might burst out of her chest. 

“Glad to hear that, silly cat,” she said with a smile, standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist while his other hand softly cupped her face as he deepened the kiss. Fireworks erupted in Marinette’s stomach. She wished time would stand still to let her savour this moment forever. 

Although her wish wasn’t granted, knowing that Adrien returned her feelings and would come back to her did make their parting a little easier. 

“You know, I don’t know what the future holds for us, my Lady,” Astrochat said as he was about to leave, gently taking her hands in his, “but one thing I do know is, if you’ll allow it, I’m never letting go of you, of us. Not if I can help it.” He brought her hands to his lips, his eyes boring into hers.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Marinette answered, pink dusting her cheeks. 

“I bet you will.” He winked. “See you soon, my love.” 

He kissed her again, gently, longingly, and then slid his visor shut and took off. 

Marinette wistfully watched him fly away, her chin propped up on her arms, leaning on her bannister. 

She truly was the lucky one.

[cynameru]

would you guys still love me if i made an oc x canon of my current favourite game

[cherrylight]

hello everyone. do you want to see my tua self insert whose lore is so confusing and discombobulated because of time (i also have too many ideas for her lore wise so it's okay i guess). i'm being brave, because you are seeing her and i'm indecisive.

look at my darling. i love you. (i like the one on the left a lot i'm sorry)

picrew

[cheemken]

Me reading up more Drayton angst: Sicko going yes... YES...

I'm loving how it's accepted that Drayton def has some kind of trauma from Opelucid. Like GameFreak was really onto something to put the kid from that city into the Polar Biome. Def agree with anons that say him being in there is a form of exposure therapy so he can get over this 'stupid fear' faster

Now I'm just thinking like, imagine he's sick. Down with a bad fever or something. He feels like the sort to not tell people that he's unwell, and with his rep, not seeing him has people chalking it up as him slacking somewhere. So he's just in his room in bed, shivering profusely cause his temp is high but he just feels so cold. It's like there's ice in his veins, it's like that day when it's so cold that he's not sure when he'll feel warm again

Just picturing him delirious, muttering about how it's so cold, so so cold. Nothing he does can warm himself up. Just teary eyed cause he feels awful and cold and he doesn't want to be alone. He wants Iris or his grandpa or his parents. Just anyone to hug him and give him warmth

Maybe his friends worry when they haven't seen him anywhere. Crispin goes to check up on him and he's worried when no one's answering even when he hears the ringing on Drayton's Rotomphone from inside. Maybe one of Drayton's mons got out of their Pokeball cause they heard it, someone who can help their Trainer. The door opens and Crispin sees the huddling, pathetic mess on the bed

Then just caretaking cause Drayton deserves it after all that. He learns that his friends do worry, and that there are people here that care. Maybe Iris finds out somewhere and comes to call him an idiot before hugging him for not telling her he was sick. Just good feels after all that and Drayton doesn't feel cold anymore.

Oughghgh your honour,,, them,,,🥺🥺

That's canon in my heart please imagine chxmbxk imagine Crispin realizing Drayton is sick and makes him all his fave warm meals, makes him soup, and just stays there w him until Drayton feels better

But y'know it would be cute tho while watching over him and taking care of him, Crispin likes,, rambles abt this show he and Kieran watches, and while Drayton doesn't look too interested bc he's sick, he's actually there listening to every word; knowing Crispin's fave characs and episodes and all that, and Crispin even told him that when he gets better, maybe they can watch it together too

And yeah, soon enough, Drayton finally fell asleep, feeling less colder now, especially w his Torchic and Crispin's own Blaziken, the room feels warmer now too. And Crispin's there sitting besides his bed, insisting that he at least stay until either Drayden or Iris comes back home. Drayton was all "sure whatever" but like, y'know, Dray's actually really grateful that someone's there w him and taking care of him, not calling him a slacker when he's clearly sick

And Crispin's there vibing y'know, happy that at least Drayton is getting the rest he needs. But it's also dope if he's there till night where Iris finally came home, and that's how Iris finally get to thank Crispin personally for watching over her brother. She's like going on how she really thought the students didn't like Drayton and he didn't have much friends, she was scared he'd end up like her when she was younger, but when Drayton started to mention Crispin to her and it made her happy and relieved y'know that he really has friends of his own, it really just took a while for people to understand him

But also Dray waking up to see Iris and Crispin talking and he's suddenly lively again bc ofc, maybe Iris is telling Crispin random embarrassing stories abt him hahaha

Anyways yeah your honour this is def canon, I'm not taking criticism lmfao

[summer-chi1d]

Sirius: Come on. I wasn’t that drunk last night

James: You were flirting with Remus

Sirius: so? He’s my boyfriend. I can flirt with him.

Peter: You asked him if he was single

James: And then locked your self in the bathroom and started crying because he told you he wasn’t.

[usfp-the-blog]

new pfp! this picrew was made by the amazingly talented @elena-illustration! i have commissioned art of Iris, which i have yet to post, but i have nothing of Orion, or of the two together, so i look forward to getting more art done made for the two! here's a link to their picrew if you want to try it out!

[lordsireno]

Oh you thought Forgus (Arrk?) shipping hours were over? Think again! Now they're in colour! (I'm writing a sequel to the shipping fic so obvs I can't stop thinking of them)

[juthemagicalclown]

some times i start repeatedly seeing on tumblr/tiktok fanarts/edits of two characters i've never seen before from a series i've never heard of and i obv start shipping them because it just feels right. but then i'm scared of actually starting the series because what if fans just made the ship out of nothing and they barely get any interaction? what if i'll be disappointed?

but then i remember idgaf and that if i want them to be together then i will simply believe so.

this being said, i'll go watch link click bye